“They also attacked from the north and south-east,” Corporal Wei said as the Scouts carried Juhkar’s unconscious form away. “Seized a good-sized portion of the wall near the north gate but the general led a countercharge that scraped them off good and proper.”
A flurry of shouts drew Vaelin’s gaze back to the wall. A regiment of soldiers were jabbing their spears into the air, shouting in feral triumph, boots stomping the Stahlhast bodies littering the battlements. Only one knot of attackers continued to fight on, a dark cluster of thrashing defiance amidst the tide of encroaching spearmen. One familiar figure in the centre of the melee slashed his sabre left and right with furious energy, seemingly indifferent to the certainty of death.
“Go with them,” Vaelin told Corporal Wei, nodding at the retreating Gifted.
With Ellese and Nortah following he climbed the stairs to the rampart, stepping over the mingled bodies of attacker and defender, pausing at the sight of Commander Deshai, lying dead with a sabre point thrust deep into his neck. The commander’s hands were wrapped around the neck of the Stahlhast who had killed him, the fingers gouged into the flesh.
“Pity,” Nortah said. “A capable fellow.”
An upsurge of shouts from the edge of the bastion drew Vaelin on, seeing the familiar figure now forced to one knee, the only surviving Stahlhast on the wall. Varnko’s armour sported a half-dozen crossbow bolts, and the stone beneath him was slick with blood. He still had enough life left to snarl at the soldiers as they closed in, spears levelled for the killing thrust.
“Stop!” Vaelin called out, striding forward and waving the soldiers back. “This man is my prisoner.”
They continued to stare at him, the bloodlust and rage of battle fading to leave a host of confused and besmirched faces. “Stop gawping!” Vaelin snapped. “See to the wounded.” He gestured to the surrounding bodies, most dead but some still clinging to life.
“I . . .” Varnko rasped as the soldiers withdrew, “am not . . . giving up my blade . . . whilst there’s still breath in me.”
Vaelin crouched at his side, reaching out to steady the Skeltir to prevent him toppling over. “I wouldn’t dream of taking it.”
Varnko hunched in pain, the tip of his sabre scraping on the stone as he tried to prop himself up. Vaelin caught him before he could fall, easing him against the nearest crenellation. “Sherin is here,” Vaelin told him. “She’ll heal you like she healed your boy.”
Varnko snorted, blood speckling his lips “My boy . . . has chosen . . . to hate me,” he said in a halting gasp. “Said I stole . . . his renown . . . by sparing him a death in battle.” He bared reddened teeth in a grin. “Ungrateful little . . . fucker, eh?”
“Ungrateful indeed. Come.” Vaelin beckoned Nortah closer, preparing to lift the Skeltir. “We’ll take you to her.”
“No!” Varnko pushed his hands away. “Don’t . . . sully my death.”
His gaze was fierce with resolve, but Vaelin could see a plea in it too. The Skeltir of the Ostra Skeld was begging to be allowed to die. “As you wish,” he said, waving Nortah back.
Varnko’s body slackened against the stone and he grunted with the effort of shifting his sabre to rest it across his knees. “This . . .” he said, tracing a finger along the many nicks and scratches of the blade’s curve, “was my father’s . . . He wasn’t Skeltir . . . died too young to make a challenge . . . But, I . . . it seems, lived too long.”
He cast his gaze over the bodies littering the rampart. “Oh, my Skeld. Look . . . at what he made of us. Once we were great . . . now no more than the fanatic army of a madman . . .”
“Why?” Vaelin asked. “Why did you follow him? You know he is no god.”
Varnko’s eyes grew dim as his head lolled towards the plain beyond the battlement. “The lure of the Golden Sea . . . is hard to resist. For all our feuds . . . the Stahlhast are bound together . . . with steel. And he promised . . . such renown. In that, at least . . . he didn’t lie.”
The Skeltir’s gaze slid back to Vaelin, eyes brightening as he summoned the last vestiges of strength. “My son . . . abased himself before that deceiver,” he