Shadow Queen - By Deborah Kalin Page 0,91
will see what civilisation means.’
‘It’s a wonder Ilthea takes an interest at all if we are so vile,’ I said.
His answering look bordered on contempt. ‘The vilest of creatures can nest above a gold mine. Or iron ore mines, as the case may be.’
I let the rebuke pass unremarked. If we’d used our resources better, perhaps it would never have come to this.
It was midday when Sidonius ordered the attack to begin with a nod which trumpeters turned into bugling cries, triggering the Iltheans to thump their spears into the ground and set up a rattling of shields.
From the Turholm, silence answered the challenge.
The onagers fired first. With a smack of wood against their stops, boulders hurtled through the blue sky. The machines kicked out when they fired, the force of their own blow almost too much for the wooden frame. Most of the stones fell short, but two shattered down over the wall, sending back screams and the shriek of tortured masonry from inside the city. The ballistae sent enormous arrows arcing after the stones, and these flew truer, all but one breaching the walls.
The Turholm would not long withstand these men, even without their earthen ramp.
‘Now, lady,’ Sidonius turned to me after yet another stone inflicted its damage inside the walls. ‘Where does the city draw its water?’
I wanted to prevaricate or delay or even deny outright any knowledge. The best I managed was vagueness. ‘There’s a well in the city, and a natural spring in the heart of the palace. And the river, of course.’
‘Drawn by hand?’ he demanded, the condescension in his tone stiffening my spine.
‘No,’ I snapped. ‘It’s siphoned off upstream, and run through pipes to a reservoir inside the walls. The rain water collects there as well. If you’re thinking to drive them to their knees through thirst –’
‘That’s exactly what I’m thinking,’ he interrupted. ‘I suggest you hold back on claiming I won’t succeed because, all things considered, you’ll look foolish when I do.’
I ached to shove my balled fist into his face. Instead I turned back to the city as the machines fired again: buckshot this time from the onagers, and stinging bolts from the scorpions.
‘Cutting off the water is a siege tactic. This,’ I said, indicating the army, the machines, the earthen ramp, ‘Isn’t a siege.’
‘I’m not interested in a protracted affair. You tell me all the drightens were present when you left, but that may well have changed by now. Even if it hasn’t, they’ll have summoned reinforcements, not to mention those demons of the northern plains. If Dieter’s not bluffing and they are riding to his aid, then I face the uncomfortable circumstance of being stuck between the walls and the oncoming hordes.’
I wanted to claim my mother’s kin wouldn’t support Dieter over me, but a mutter from Grandmother warned me not to dare it.
Again the machines fired, their missiles this time trailing yellow flame. At least one took root inside the walls and soon tongues of fire licked skyward as cries echoed faint and thin.
His enemy distracted, Sidonius signalled an officer to sound the next attack. Within minutes the Iltheans marched forward in step, helmets and interlocked shields providing little access for Turasi missiles. A rain of Ilthean arrows sang through the sky to provide extra cover.
Ravens above, would they be inside today?
‘There’s also the matter of Dieter’s creature,’ Sidonius continued.
It took an effort to drag my attention from the Turholm. ‘What of it?’
‘What’s to stop him concocting an army of the creatures? Given time, he could swell his ranks until he outnumbers me.’
An army of Clays? I shook my head, though my heart raced. ‘They need blood,’ I reasoned. ‘He’d deplete his strength at the expense of creating them.’
Sidonius glanced at me sidelong. ‘From what Achim tells me, they need only a drop. If it were me, I’d judge the price worth the return.’
Only a drop. I shuddered. How many drops did a glass vial hold? Even if Clay was dead, Dieter could send golem after golem hunting me, each of them given life by my blood, each of them tied to me.
‘I must attend to the battle, lady. You might prefer to retire to your tent,’ he added, his tone less an invitation than an order. ‘This won’t be decided today.’
With that he stalked off, summoning a team of men and giving them orders to find and stop the water supply pipes even as he left.
I watched him go with my heart in my throat. Perhaps