XXIV: May 784
At noon, 30 April 784, the Emperor crossed into Intror with an army numbering over ten thousand. He did not challenge Delyan, and instead hurried his force, with its Avar escort, to Vonnis across the plains east of the River Lavan. The Countess of Clane responded by retiring with her cataphracts and the riders of Farlain and Amari to the lowlands south of Angren. She joined her thanes and commanders at Tarnhold on the tenth day of May.
"My friends," she said, "at last, we are here, at the end of this long hard road." She looked around. There were the thanes, Hugo, nearly eighty-seven and finally showing a hint of his age; Sigrith, a little grey but still handy with the old broadsword; Rodrik, a gangly kid of twenty-nine; Agnes, starting to fill out to her father Horst's authoritative proportions; Archibard of Maklos, escaped from the first year of Vivian's reign, weathered but strong; and Wolrich of Skavin and Lamorak of Intror sitting behind the rest, smiling nervously in what they found to be exalted company. There were Sir Francis, grey at the temple but handsomer than ever; Prince Frenerac, hardly aged from his days as a suitor; his friend, the perfect knight Sir Tylon; Angeline Rain, tall and dignified and still quite beautiful; Purcell Colmack, with his deeply grooved face, wise eyes and bulb nose; Ellean Rain, looking more a teenager than almost a thirty-year-old; Lady Mirabel, her blue eyes as sharp as the pencil in her hand; Anne Atgate hiding in plain sight, with Edgar beside her, both armed with quills; and Sir William Willd, whom Vivian could not describe objectively. Then at the far right of Vivian's vista, by her side, there were two dense cores of power, warping her peripheral vision with their spiritual and emotional force. One was pure as white flame of starlight, but the other, the brighter one, was golden-red and overwhelmingly hot.
On the Countess's left stood Sir Rogier, in his twenty-fifth year as Minister of State. "My lady," he said, "we are glad indeed to be where we are." He turned to the rest. "My lords and ladies, all signs say that we are come to the great battle."
Sigrith smiled. "The signs always seem to say that."
"This time they mean it. The Emperor is here in Clane, as has not happened since--"
"Since he hid out in Vonnis for four years before claiming the throne," put in Vivian.
"The Emperor is in Clane," Sir Rogier went on, "with an army, for the first time since the wars of the Seventeenth Emperor, in the reigns of Counts Rodric and Raymond. Then it was the Alanni and the Rukh that he was fighting, but this time it's us."
"It's still us," said Sigrith. "Welcome to the moot. How many does he have?"
"Well, it's not the biggest army we've ever faced. It's the second-biggest, unless I've forgotten one of our many life-and-death struggles. They do rather blur after a while. But in answer to your question, this force consists of fifteen or sixteen thousand, depending on how many of the Vonnis garrison they leave behind; Sigrith and Francis and Purcell Colmack tell me that it takes at least a thousand to man the defenses of once-fair Vonnis in its current configuration. The most recent breakdown from Martin and Siglind is: seven thousand Imperial guards, three thousand knights of Farlain, Inzil and the Grand Duchy and three thousand Avars from Shadewind under Hakeen's vizier Baku. Add in two or three thousand of the occupiers of Vonnis, under Sir Mallon de Mayol, and one reportedly arrives at one of the aforementioned totals."
"And us?" asked the Countess. "How many do we have?"
"My lady," said Sir Francis, "we have seventeen hundred south of Angren, drawn from Delyan--the Cataphracts and the Farlainers under the Prince and some of the Delyan militia. The defense there was left quite thin, but it was hard to dissuade many of them from coming with us."
"I quite understand, and I'm sure Susan understands how they feel even better. No need to worry. I don't plan on anything more than a broken fragment of this imperial host ever making it back to Delyan--and if the Emperor wins, then our friends in Delyan will not be the only ones headed for the hills. Well, what other weapons are in our hands? My Thanes?"
"You have Tarnver's cataphracts," said Thane Hugo. "We also plan to send five hundred more infantry, including the mountaineers."
"Thank you, my Thane. You have been a rock to my father and me."
"My lady," said Thane Hugo, "I believe I was a good-sized pebble to your granddad as well."
"Two thousands from Siret are in the field already, under Sigfrinda," said Sigrith, "pressing Angren from the west. Sir Toby's two hundred knights joined us here two days ago, and they will soon camp with the Cataphracts."
"Selac," said Thane Rodrik, "has five hundred axemen with Sigfrinda and Frak Egonsson. Egon is here with five hundred more, and two hundred Acali longbows."
"Westdubbik," said Thane Agnes, "gives a thousand pikes and bows, in addition to the horse bows that ride with Lady Valerie and Sir Francis."
"Intror's troops," said Thane Lamorak, "are already counted, or cannot be. Some of the, ah, informal militia are harassing Imperial supply lines."
"I guess they're paying themselves through their work," said Vivian.
"They get the best of the wine," said Lamorak.
"And now, my long-lost Thanes?"
"We could not miss this," said Wolrich. "The province of Skavin sends three hundred swords and bows to serve their Countess."
"Three hundred from Skavin?"
"Well, you know, go big or go home, and we've been sitting at home for fifteen years."
"We thank the Sun for preserving you," said Vivian. "And what does Maklos send?"
"My lady," said Archibard, "and my lords, the province of Maklos, which never got to send anything to Countess Vivian before, has given me forty of its men, and a dozen of its young women, bearing spears and bows, and the Khan of the Avars has granted us safe-passage to fight for Clane at last."
"And this first time will be the last time," said Vivian, "for a long while, at any rate. You may keep your taxes for the foreseeable future. Clane will ask no more of you, until the tide of history ebbs again and we find ourselves back together."
"She's saying," Sir Rogier explained, "that, win or lose, you're on your own."
"Oh, we knew that," said Archibard. "We might not think such things, except that the Avars have decided they respect us. I fear that in my time we've become just another tribe of mountain people. But we couldn't miss the downfall of the actual Last Emperor, nor the entry of the Countess Vivian into Vonnis after all these years."
"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," said Vivian, "but I like the way you think. Lady Mirabel, what is the tally?"
"Five thousand and fifty infantry," said Lady Mirabel, "and nineteen hundreds of cavalry."
"My lady," said Prince Frenerac, "I can even out the odd fifty. This morning I received word that a hundred and fifty rebels from northern Amari have reached Nikolad and are hurrying on to join us. They honor my wife's memory, and call my son Othos their Duke."
"Then," said Mirabel, "it all comes to seven thousand and one hundred, who will fight under the Grey Cat against the Emperor."
"Once again the largest army ever fielded by a Count of Clane," said Sir Rogier, "and once again, outnumbered by at least two to one. Why does this no longer make me nervous?"
"It should," said Sir Francis. "The Elite weren't nervous and look what happened to them. I fear for my life, myself, but I know what I'm fighting for."
"Well," said Sir Rogier, "I think we all know the strategic objective--"
"Defeat the enemy and destroy the Empire forever," said Vivian.
"That sums it up rather neatly, my lady. But we ought to have a tactical objective, don't you think? I mean, where are we drawing the battle-lines? That alone decides many battles."
"And it's what has won us most of ours," said Vivian. "Well, if we could get them to attack Tarnhold or Nikolad, we'd be halfway to victory. But I can predict that the Big Guy wants a fight in the open. Has anyone noticed how nice the weather's been lately, by the way?"
"Yes, I have," said Sir Francis. "It reminds me of two years ago."
"Any chance of, say, snow?" asked Ellean.
"No, I don't think so," said Vivian. "No, I'm content this time to fight under skies of his choosing. But I think we'll fight at Angren."
"At Angren?" replied Sir Rogier quizzically. He thought about it a moment. "Sure. They have their forward supplies there, it's at least somewhat defensible, we've taken it from them before. Of course it'll be well-defended."
"We'll see what we can do about that," Vivian went on. "I think I remember someone saying that there were a little over two thousand there as of two nights ago. But it has to be Angren. That's where this all started."
"My lady," said Sir Rogier, "you're always saying mysterious things like that. All right, I'm getting nervous after all. Maybe that's why you do it. But Angren it is. As soon as possible, I'd say."
"And how soon is possible?" asked Vivian.
"My Countess," said Sigrith, "our highland axes could take it tomorrow, although we might have an easier time of it with the troops that could join us in a week."
"And the Emperor? How ready is he?"
"It's hard to say, since he seems able to move troops very quickly when he's with them," replied Sigrith, "but he's only been in Vonnis for a day or so; not all his troops and provisions have made it up out of Intror yet, going around Delyan as they are. I guess that even at his best preparation, he won't be ready to move forward for at least a week."
"A week it is, then. As many infantry as we can get ready to attack Angren as early in the morning as they can. And this time, let's go around the west gate rather than straight at it."
"I will debate that case with Sigfrinda, though I cannot promise she will see it our way, and I have entrusted the battlefield leadership to her."
"She's grown up," said Vivian, "and I think she knows the value of the lives of her warriors. The cavalry will see to it that reinforcements don't make it to Angren before we've got it under our control." Weaver smiled and nodded.
"Well," said Sir Rogier, "we have made our choices; all else is just the labor of preparation. And before labor, wine."
"And ale," said Thane Hugo, "since you like it, from one of your Miranda's apprentices who has joined my household. I hope you approve."
She did--the spicy red ale was a good imitation of Miranda mac Conahay's standard. The Thane's pasta dish was heavenly. They ate and drank and sang the old songs in Thane Hugo's high-ceilinged hall, and the younger folk even danced, while Vivian and Mirabel and Angeline sat together, each with a daughter in her lap. Then Vivian took nearly-eleven-year-old Annie and went and gathered Suzy from the bedroom where she and her best friend Eliza were sitting around reading old histories. Then Vivian and her daughters took a long look at the Imperial force gathered at Angren and Vonnis.
The city was bustling again, but this time with many thousands of soldiers. It no longer saddened Vivian to look at it, for it no longer bore any resemblance to her Vonnis. Even the Citadel looked different, scarred with burning and with additions and no longer surrounded by the market and the houses of merchants. Under the Citadel was something familiar: the Emperor was weaving a weird upon the weather.
"What are we going to do about it?" asked Suzy when they opened their eyes again in the closet at Tarnhold.
"We aren't going to do anything," said Vivian. "If he wants a spell of nice weather for the last few days of his miserable life, that's fine with me. We have better things to do with our scarce supply of power."
"Like what?"
"Like take Angren," replied Vivian. "Like make sure he doesn't get away again. Now help me with one more thing, will you?"
The seventeenth of May promised to be a gorgeous day. It was just after dawn, and there was not a cloud in the sky, not counting the clouds of blackflies that hung in the sun-splotched woods and were just waking up along the Rocky River's bank. The Clanish squeeze was on at Angren, but it appeared to be just the usual pressure. Cavalry movements in the night had been ominous, but no one had taken much note of the omens, and with fifteen thousand Imperial troops within a few hours' march, an attack was the farthest thing from the mind of the captain in charge of the rebuilt west gate. A half dozen carts with peasant families attached sought entry into the town, and the captain was skeptical: in his experience, Clanish peasants did not apply to Farlainers for protection from forces loyal to Nikolad. Yet that seemed to be what they wanted, and it was hard on him to argue against them. At last a little old lady stepped forward and pushed the chief spokesman aside.
"Now listen to me," she said, and cast back her hood. "You're going to captured or dead by midday, and there's not a thing you can do about it. Oh, and by the way, that Emperor of yours isn't looking so great right now either."
The captain felt a sudden doubt about everything--his situation, his leaders, his choice of career. All because of a little old woman? "What are you talking about?" he asked her.
"This," said the woman. She shook her head vigorously. Flour flew out from it and dusted her clothes. Her hair was hardly grey at all. She stood straight up and cried out in a high, clear voice, "Long live Clane!" The men on the gate cowered. And then horns were blown here and there along the south side of town, along the river front, joined by the bloodcurdling cries of Sigfrinda's warriors. A fierce battle ensued--for about fifteen minutes. Then the Cataphracts took the Main Street, and their foes fled or gave up. The defenders on the west gate surrendered as one after standing on the parapet gawking at the morning's events.
"That was easy," said Kersten to Vivian, finding the Countess sitting on a crate on the turret over the west gate. "We lost fifty, and they lost four hundred, mostly in the panic. We captured six hundred, which the Tarnver militia is marching back to Tarnhold today."
"Those are the lucky ones," said Vivian. "You guys did well. Next time, I daresay they'll exact their toll of casualties. The Emperor will soon decide he wants Angren back. So let's get the whole infantry moved in here, and start seeing to the walls that face Vonnis."
"My Countess," said Sigfrinda, "there are no walls facing Vonnis."
"Well, we'll need some," said Vivian. "Get Purcell Colmack in here without delay. He'll know what to do. Now I've got to get in a nap."
That night a Clanish military council was held in Rain Hall, which looked no worse than when they had last occupied it. Vivian and Susan, the Rain sisters, Purcell Colmack and the military minds sat around the stained and disfigured table in the dining room. Anne Atgate and the annalist Edgar sat on a bench by the door, taking notes.
"I can't believe it," said Angeline. "I hardly recognize this table."
"It's not the same one," said Francis. "The edging is different, and it's rounded at the corners. For all we know, they went through three or four replacement dining tables."
"Don't these Farlainers clean up after themselves?"
"Here's one who will," said Frenerac.
"They used it to spread maps on," said Vivian. "Like us. So who has the plan of Angren?"
"I do," said Ellean, producing a freshly made two-square-yard map. "This is what I was doing this afternoon," she explained. "There's the west gate. The dotted lines indicate the low stone walls, most of which aren't even walls so much as rock piles. I've tried to position the major structures accurately, which wasn't so hard since a lot of the buildings are gone."
Angeline shook her head in disgust. "We Angreners are too hospitable. We should never have let such poorly-behaved guests remain so long."
"The same thing happened to us," said Sigrith, "when we let Thane Rodano move in."
"It's a lovely map, Ell," said Vivian. "Now someone tell us what happened."
"Well," said Kersten, "we attacked, and they fled. I don't think the Emperor grieves much at the defeat of this force. They weren't his best."
"How sad," said Sir Rogier. "But of course it raises questions. One, what on earth made them so scared of us, that isn't going to work in reverse when the Emperor's fifteen thousand or whatever attack our seven thousand? I mean, we had local numerical superiority thanks to Weaver and Frenerac, but these men might have fought a lot harder. And two, why did the Emperor put his weakest force in front?"
"I'm not prepared to say about One," said Vivian, "although I think the Rukh war-cry counts for something. But they were the same exact force we took Angren from before--hardly the cream of Farlain forces. The commander the very same guy we negotiated with ten years ago. As for Two, well, from our perspective, it's easier to be in his way here; we'd have to split up to defend Tarnhold and Dubkarin. But from his, we aren't as well-fortified here as we might be in one of the provincial capitals. Certainly no place in Clane, other than Nikolad, is as defensible as Tarnhold. Oh, I'd love to get the Emperor to attack Tarnhold or Dubkarin or Nikolad. He's lost, or Salvar has, trying to attack each of those places."
"So we hold Angren because it's not defensible, and he gives it up in order to get the chance to attack it."
"We hold Angren," said Vivian, "because it's Angren, because it is the heart of Clane, and because it's here that we will defeat the Emperor." She looked around. "And he wants to fight here because he wants us out in what he considers the open. So let's see to it that it's not so open by the time he comes to visit."
"We have the army out hauling stones," said Sigrith, "with the help of some volunteers from among the local oxen. We're digging a big ditch as well. This fortification stuff is all new to us Rukh, of course, but they said the ditch worked at Delyan."
"It sure did," said Vivian. "Master Colmack, that's why you're here."
"We got started this afternoon, my lady," said Colmack. "We're also making a little, well, you could call it a fort, by the Vonnis road. It's a rush job, but it'll be a lot better than nothing."
"Any idea as to how long before the Big Guy comes to check our work?" asked Sir Rogier.
Willd spoke up. "Martin and I have been to look at the main force, and we think they're almost ready. They'll be here very quickly when they come."
"Well," said Vivian, "I expect we have a week. The full moon's the twenty-third. The Emperor likes full moons."
"Does he," replied Sir Rogier.
"Yes," said Vivian, "but so do I, it's one thing we have in common. One week. Strange, isn't it? That we, each of us, should happen to be here, today, a week before the final end of the Empire? Or of Clane."
"Of the Empire," said Sir Francis. "Never doubt it, my lady."
She smiled nervously. "I like that kind of talk. We beat Salvar three times when he invaded with huge armies, because we are strong and the Emperor was elsewhere. We won at Delyan because I could distract Him and we weren't outnumbered. But now, even if I do manage to distract the Big Guy, we'll still be outnumbered by more than two to one."
"We will come up with a scheme?" asked Sir Rogier.
"We'd better, or even if we win, the Clanish blood will be three feet deep. Still, I'd much rather be in Angren with the Clanish army than outside it with the Imperial army, even if He had fifty thousand."
"Me too, hear, hear, no doubt," said Sigrith and Weaver and Ellean.
"Steward," called Sir Rogier, and a Clanish lieutenant appeared from the kitchen. "Wheel in that barrel, would you please? I sense the imminence of toasts."
The next day the Clanish forces began in earnest the work of converting Angren into a fortress, though Vivian reflected that there was barely time to turn it into a respectable battlefield. She and Susan and Anne toured the town for hours, then returned to Rain Hall for dinner. Only Angeline was around--her husband was off working like a dog, and their kids were happily playing back in Tarnhold, and Willd was scouting, and Ellean had gone upstairs for a nap.
Vivian had eaten only a few gulps of beef stew when she felt Susan's eyes on her. Their eyes met, and then they both looked at Annie, and then, as Angeline watched openmouthed, the three jumped up and ran for the stairs.
They looked into the room that had been cleaned up for Vivian and Willd, and saw no more than the normal mess. The next room was Ellean's, lit by a guttering candle on a bench. Beside it, on her cot, lay Ellean. She was looking at them, one hand at her throat, the other gripping the blanket. There was no one else in the room.
Vivian ran to Ellean's bag and dumped it out on the floor. Comb, pipe, pouch, bits of paper, ink bottle, pennies--mirror. Vivian held it up, a mere strip of silvered glass an inch and a half by three inches. Her daughters, kneeling beside her, stared into it as Vivian slowly turned it through the room.
There he stood, watching them out of the corner of his eye while he tried to concentrate on his victim. He saw them see him, and they only had a moment to hammer him with their minds before he vanished from the room.
Ellean breathed again. Vivian grabbed her and hugged her, her tears falling on the errand-rider's face. "Oh, my darling Ell, are you all right?" she cried.
"I--was that?"
"Yes," said Susan. "It was Him."
"Oh, Vivie," cried Ellean, "don't let Him come back for me!" They hugged and wept for a whole minute, while the girls looked around like sentries on a misty battlement.
"We won't let him," said Vivian, holding Ellean at arm's length to look her in the eye. "I can make sure of that, at least." The two friends stared straight into each other's souls for fifteen seconds. Vivian turned to her daughters. "Come, ladies," she said, "we have business."
A few minutes later, when her pulse had fallen to normal, Vivian sat in the attic of Rain Hall, with Susan on her left, Anne on her right, the candles lit, a tome of Count Robert lying open, and on it the card of the High Priestess.
Mother and daughters moved through a space full of unexpected directions and angles, hazy with silvery light. Infinitely far could they see, and yet many things close to them came up suddenly as over a curved surface. Depressions here and there distorted the surface of the space, and they went around these with care, all three looking in all the directions they could think of. They could not see Him, but they felt a great force not far off.
They came upon a depression far deeper than the others. Vivian overcame her daughters' apprehension and led them into it. They descended with great care to their footing: it did not flatten out like a dell in the hills but rather became steeper as they went on, until the space they moved in became constricted to a strand stretched tight by an unseen force. Hand in hand, the three crept on, and they presently saw far ahead of them a figure standing.
It was the Emperor, in his old digs beneath Vonnis. About him burned many candles, and before him on the floor sat a single card, bearing the likeness of a magician, his tools about him.
The Emperor looked up and suddenly saw them, in a direction not within the usual ones of the room. They mocked him and jeered him in the language of the spirit, and Vivian called out, What are you doing, Tarun of Delyan? Old Imperial tricks?
It is not for you to ask the Emperor's business, he answered her.
We'll just have a look, then, the three of them called back. They reached to touch his mind, and for a moment reeled back from the giddy turbulence of his power. They could not hope to read such a mind. But they saw the pictogram of death written on the surface of his inner waters, and glimpsed pictures of some of those closest to them: Ellean, and Sir Rogier, and Sir Francis, and Thane Sigrith, all so strong with life but innocent as babies before such a spell. So the battle begins, they said to him. It will not begin thus. You may have what weather you like, but you will have to get your victory over us three, and not through our loyal servants, who know nothing of your power.
He seethed at them, but they stood firmly in his way, and there was nothing he could do about it. Presently he gave up, and the strand broke, and they found themselves in a deep but not depthless depression in infinite-dimensional space. After that, every night for the next week, the three of them sojourned in the night as the moon grew, and each night the Emperor found them waiting when he opened his channel, waiting for him and blocking his dark enterprises and shadowing his footsteps in the lightless lands.
Ellean survived the night, and the next day celebrated her thirtieth birthday. Meanwhile the two armies prepared for a great battle. Dike and walls grew along the side of Angren that faced Vonnis: it wasn't much, but then Angren had never needed walls on that side before. Most impressive was the stone stockade by the so-called Vonnis gate, five feet high and forty feet by twenty in area. The dike grew to surround the town, but it was only a foot deep in many places, and the new town wall varied from a row of stones to a finished rampart by the stockade. It would have to do. On 23 May, the Countess, her daughters and commanders inspected the preparations, and then, with nothing more useful to do, went off to make final plans.
That evening, the Clanish commanders met for two hours in Rain Hall, and ended their council, at Sir Rogier's suggestion, by renewing their oaths to the Countess and to one another. Miranda mac Conahay had just come down from Nikolad, and after the toasts were over, Vivian stopped her with a list. "Miranda," she said, "can you get or make these things between now and, say, two hours before dawn?"
"Oh, sure, who needs sleep? Let's see. Mellflower's going to be hard--and Rodric's powder will take some time."
"You can get mellflower by the little creek in back of Rain Hall," said Suzy. "I'll show you."
"No, you won't," said Vivian. "I need you with me. It's the full moon tonight, remember? Well, look, Miranda, do the best you can."
"I'll fill the list," the brewer replied, "even if I have to ride to Nikolad and back tonight. Where shall I bring these things?"
"The attic. It's easy to find. Just keep going up the stairs."
As the perfect circle of the moon rose into a sky becoming crowded with stars, Vivian and her daughters went forth into the Other Side. They found the Lady of the Fountain waiting for them at the arch, fidgeting. Vivian and her daughters and the Lady and the little girl with the brown ponytails walked to the fountain, tarried only a moment, and then went out onto the broad avenue behind the mansion. The twilight was thick upon the garden now, and a cool breeze blew, and leaves and fallen flowers blew about them as they went up the avenue in animated discussion.
They walked and walked, and finally found themselves before the trail to the right through brush and brambles. The Lady turned aside and led them to the gap in the hedge. Far below them lay a city in the golden light of early evening. Ordinary sounds of life rose to them, ordinary smells, ordinary scenes of people meeting in the narrow streets, of the market enjoying a last burst of activity before night, of animals on foot and on the wing speaking to one another in all their various languages. The sun blessed a peaceful town with its last rays before setting.
They looked down, nearer at hand. There was almost a way down there, now, but still a sheer drop interrupted the stairs descending.
The Lady turned them away from that view unwilling, and led them back to the avenue. They walked back down it and turned aside to look out from the balustrade above the city. It was dark, as it had always been, but with not a cloud to be seen: a moon fuller than full sat enthroned in the midst of her stellar courtiers. Below, in the plaza where the bazaar had been, there was a great crowd of people, but they were all clad in white, arrayed in a complex symmetry. There were knights and priestesses and men at arms, serving girls and great tall slaves and princes and captains and engineers, dancers and jugglers, old men and women and fresh-faced soldiers and tradesmen of all sorts. At the center of their web stood one man, as tall as the rest and yet larger, the moon directly above him, his black eyes staring up at the balustrade.
There is even a place for you, little countess, spoke that cold voice in her mind.
There is no place for you, Last Emperor, said Vivian. You have lived too long, you and your Empire.
You are mere children, to the Empire, he replied. We are your family. Come down and take your proper place: there is a place for everyone.
You have no children, Tarun. Look around you. The Empire is sterile, while its cousins grow and spread. Even the Avars, who long harbored your fantastic dream, have turned aside to their own paths.
Tomorrow, he said, we will see.
Just as Vivian and her daughters returned to themselves in the attic of Rain Hall, there was a tremendous explosion some distance off. They leapt up and started downstairs, assuming the battle was underway already.
"It's from the imperial camp," said Miranda, a shadow in the dark on the second floor landing. "Dawn's still two hours away. I filled out your list."
"Oh, sunspots," said Vivian, "I forgot. Well, girls, we have another little ritual to perform, before we can let the Emperor make his last move."
They learned the nature of the explosion from Siglind and her elder sister Sigern, who came in, laughing and backslapping, just as Vivian and Miranda and Suzy and Annie were coming downstairs half an hour later. A dozen Rukh had slipped into the Imperial camp and set off the Avars' stockpile of deadly fireworks. "How did you manage that?" asked Vivian, reconciled now to missing even the hour of sleep she had promised herself. "Do I want to know?"
"Wilfrunda put a torch to a barrel of black powder," said Sigern. "There must have been twenty of them, and hundreds of loaded shells. She drinks with the heroes even now, but there are many in our camp who will breathe tomorrow night because of her."
"If we win," said Vivian, "it will be because of a lot more sacrifices like hers. Well, I am willing to do the same. But tonight it is Wilfrunda that drinks with my father."
"May we drink together at the next sunset, my Countess," said Sigern, "here or there."
A few minutes later, the Countess stood in the dining room of Rain Hall with Sir Rogier and Thane Sigrith and Sir Francis and the scouts, and her daughters. "It's going to be today," she said. "I have it on the highest possible authority. What's the news?"
"Well," said Martin of Auzel, "they've got a sort of replacement Elite, about four thousand cavalry of Farlain and Inzil. If you ask me, they're no match for the Cataphracts."
"And there are too many of them," said Vivian, "for His purposes anyway. What does Salvar lead?"
"Salvar seems to be in charge of the rest of the army," said Siglind, who was visibly pregnant. "They are arrayed before Angren, ready to attack, just as you said."
"He has to fight somewhere," said Vivian, "and this is where we are. All right, here's what we're going to do. I ride with the Cataphracts and the rebels. How much cavalry do we have, including everything?"
"Two thousand, on the nose," said Weaver.
"Good. The Countess's Elite, we might call it, though that doesn't do justice to, say, the Rukh or the Westdubbik pikes. And Susan rides with me."
"Susan?" repeated Sir Rogier. "Why?"
"Because I need her," said Vivian. "Annie, you know your post."
"In the west gate tower."
"Yes. And I have heard Jack Rain's plea to be in the battle, and so I order him to the same post, for the exclusive job of guarding Lady Anne."
"My lady," said Sir Francis, "he's only fourteen."
"And since you can't seem to keep him in Tarnhold, my guess is that the west gate is the safest place. Willd, you're with me; Annie de Clatu too; Martin, Siglind, Ellean, Angeline, the Lord Consul will find work for you, I'm sure."
"Me?" said Angeline, who had harbored a vague idea about spending the morning planning this year's garden.
"Yes, you. You're an errand-rider, aren't you?"
"And what is the overall strategy?" asked Sir Rogier.
"I'm glad you asked," said Vivian. "The infantry is to hold Angren and let the enemy destroy themselves on these rocks we have strewn about the shores of this island, if I may use a maritime metaphor. Our cavalry will lead the Emperor's replacement elite on a little ride in the countryside. If we can keep him from the fighting in town, we'll probably hold Angren at the end of the day."
"And how will you defeat the cavalry?"
"I'll think about that," said Vivian, "while we're riding."
The morning of 24 May 784 was crystal-clear with the promise of a hot and dusty day. One flank of the awakening Imperial host found itself under fire before sunrise. From the shores of the Rocky River, three companies of the Countess's Cataphracts shot five volleys of arrows into the tents and horse pens of the vast encampment, and then charged in, led by a whooping Valerie de Nikolad, to wreak brutal havoc upon half-dressed soldiers from Farlain and the Grand Duchy. It took twenty minutes for the Emperor himself to gather some of his cavalry and respond, and by then Valerie and her friends had removed south across the river via the mill bridge. Five hundred Inzil knights led by Count Chalris stopped before crossing after them, and were rewarded with insults from the south bank. These they took with a growing irritation, until Chalris was almost ready to order a charge over the bridge. Just in time, an errand-rider all in white rode up to have a cautionary word with the Count.
A loud, high voice came to them from across the river, interrupting the orders of restraint being delivered to Count Chalris. "Halloo!" called a small figure in grey riding gear, a golden medallion shining from her breast. "Hey Chalris! I see Inzil's sent some troops to Clane this time. Your father was wiser than you--he was scared of the Avars. But here you are. Are you going to just sit there?" Valerie, beside the Countess, lowered her raised arm, and another volley flew in a high arc over the Rocky, landing among the knights and taking a few of them out of their saddles. The three companies of Cataphracts readied their next volley of arrows.
With a snarl, Count Chalris gave his orders, and his knights, without a disloyal second thought, started across the stream by ford or rickety bridge, under a decimating fire. They had help unlooked-for, however: just now horns sounded the charge from downriver, and, looking that way, Vivian and Valerie saw that a sizeable contingent of Imperial riders were south of the Rocky River and coming their way. The Cataphracts loosed one more volley of arrows and took off.
They were joined by the rest of the Cataphract companies, and the rebel riders of Farlain and Amari, just upriver, at the south end of Angren's stone bridge. They arrayed themselves in long lines and waited as the Imperial Cavalry rode up. There was a half-hour's pause as both sides tried to figure out what they could do to each other. Noise of fighting began to come to them from across the river in Angren, but the cavalries only had eyes for each other.
"How many are there?" Vivian asked Willd and Annie de Clatu.
"Now? Maybe twenty-five hundred," said Annie.
"Go back and hide in that grove, and signal us when they're up to thirty-five hundred. I expect we'll know when the Emperor arrives."
Both things happened more or less at once, as it turned out: a large column of knights came up from behind, and in their midst was a blur of sheer force clad in white. There was a flash of silvery sunlight reflected from a grove on the right side of the field. Vivian turned to Valerie and Weaver. "Is it worth spending a volley of arrows at this range?"
"Sure," said Weaver, "we've been up all night cutting new ones."
"Order it," said Vivian, "and then let's take these knights for a dash about the countryside. Suzy? It's your cue."
Then the imperial cavalry was shocked by a peal of thirteen-year-old girl laughter. The Emperor himself was stung by the contempt in that thin, high, pure tone. Perhaps one deep breath could have been taken in the time that the girl's voice rose and decayed, but to the listeners on both sides it might have been a day that they sat dumbfounded.
Then in the silence the Cataphracts raised their bows to forty-five degree angles, drew back the strings as far as they could and let loose, and before the arrows had landed, their firers were turned southward and nearing full speed. The knights, enraged and disconcerted, took off after them. Through the long ascent of the sun they pursued the Clanish horses halfway to Fugad. Weaver's riders had enough of a speed advantage that it was impossible for the Imperial Cavalry to catch them before they tired, and the Countess and her commanders were careful to make sure that didn't happen soon. During a two minute rest around the fourth hour of morning, Vivian and Susan and Weaver and Valerie and Frenerac put their heads together, and afterward Willd and Annie went out to the distant elements of the force with new orders before detaching themselves to shadow the pursuing enemy.
A little past noon they paused again, on a windswept hill with a seasonal stream at its foot. The knights found their quarry arrayed across the rise, the front ranks right along the streambed. The Clanish barbarians were eating lunch in the saddle, while their horses munched on the wild grasses. Their foes set about the task of preparing once again for battle. It took a quarter of an hour, but finally the Imperial Cavalry was ready for the attack on this improvised position--the main force would charge right in, for the dry stream really was no defense, while a thousand or so would flank the defenders on the left, and in the open field a two-to-one numerical advantage would tell for sure. The Emperor rode to the front, gathering a silence about him, and as the sun gleamed down around him he stiffened to speak.
"Warriors of Clane!" came the irritating, high, clear voice of the Countess, a shrill jarring note to the ears of the Empire. "See how far they will come to fight us. These are no imperial elite--they are happy pilgrims, gawking at the sights of far-off lands. Who is that in their midst? Their guide, forsooth. I hope they didn't pay him much--he's led them astray again!"
Vivian and Susan laughed at their rival, and turned away, even as he composed a curse to throw in their faces. The Clanish cavalry turned and filed off the hill to the north, away from the flanking units. The Emperor had to cool his rage with the realization that the Countess's swifter force might now make it back to Angren before him. He rose in his saddle and shouted out a dozen words in the ancient tongue, and his army turned in great haste to resume their pursuit, horse and man alike forgetting for a while their weariness and their hunger.
Then through a long afternoon one force pursued the other back across the plains south of the Rocky River. The Divine Sun gazed down unjudging upon the race, as by the Imperial Will alone the knights kept pace with the Cataphracts. Now and again Weaver and a few companies held back along a stream line or the edge of a patch of woods to fire arrows back into the pursuers, and then hurry after their comrades while the Imperial Cavalry regrouped. By the time the Fire Everlasting reached the last rank of the sky, the knights were a mile behind the Cataphracts. The Angren bridge was guarded by about fifty nude, painted warriors of the Rukh, who cheered them loudly as they filed across the wide stone span. "Long live Clane!" shouted Kersten, running up to help Vivian down from her horse. "You have defeated the Emperor's cavalry again!"
"Only in speed, not yet in battle," said Vivian. "They still outnumber us. But give me time." She looked nervously back across the bridge, but it seemed as if Valerie's rearguard would hold back the ginger approach of the knights long enough for all to get across. "This bridge needs to be defended," she said to Kersten and Weaver. "The Cataphracts had better take patrol this evening all along the river. It's shallow enough to cross, with the water as low as it is."
"Yes, my lady," said Weaver.
"Now," she said to Kersten, "what have you been up to while we've been out riding?"
"We have held Angren, my Countess," said Kersten, "but at great cost."
Vivian and Susan looked around, startled. The battle had indeed been here in Angren, and they had missed it, out running the Imperial Cavalry all over northern Westdubbik. They heard fighting still, but diminishing, and they heard cries and shouts and a certain amount of singing, but it was the smell they would never forget. Already in the hot sun the bodies of thousands rotted right here in the heart of Clane. "We'd better go see for ourselves," said Vivian.
At dawn, just as the chase of the cavalry was getting underway, Duke Salvar moved the forefront of his ten thousand infantry up to face the stone stockade at the eastern end of Angren. Avar skirmishers and Farlain swordsmen surged forward and met Rukh axe wielders and Westdubbik pikemen. A hail of arrows stopped the first wave for a few minutes, and continued fire slowed down their reinforcements, but by the time the sun was well up, heavy blows were being exchanged all along the five-foot-high wall. Long the Clanish troops held their positions, but their losses mounted, even as they gave three blows for each one they took. Duke Salvar, for his part, was impatient with the slow progress of his men, and threw more and more companies into the fray until through the sheer weight of their press the attackers broke through across the stone wall both north and south of the stockade. They pushed on, leaving hundreds of dead of both sides behind them. Half of the attackers drove further into the ruined residential districts of Angren and half surrounded the stone enclosure.
There Egon held the walls with a randomly arrayed force of archers, axes, swords, pikes and spears. When he saw that his position was the next target of the enemy, he sent his son Frak for reinforcements, and then had no time to think any further. Near noon, after Egon's position at the Vonnis gate had been under attack on all sides for an hour, Martin of Auzel got through with word from Kersten: "Hold another hour and she'll relieve you, but she hopes you'll understand the delay since there's about four thousand of the enemy she has to get through first."
"I'd send you back to thank her," said Egon, "but if we're going to survive another hour, you'd better grab a weapon. Think we can hold them off so long?"
Martin picked up a spear and looked around. There were perhaps two dozen defenders within the stockade, and the Avar skirmishers were preparing to close for another go at them. "Nice day, isn't it?" he said, and before Egon could answer, the scrawny errand-rider had broken his spear off in the belly of a young Avar.
Meanwhile Sigfrinda's Rukh fought a retreat through the streets of abandoned and half-demolished houses. Siglind and two of the Archer Girls of Nikolad hid in an attic and sniped quite effectively until their house was set ablaze; then they escaped over the roofs of the town, slowed only momentarily by Siglind falling through a weak spot and tearing up her knee. The three limped to another high window and resumed firing until they ran out of arrows. By then the battle had moved on.
In the market square at the west end of town, Sigrith and Purcell Colmack had turned crates of supplies and barrels of wine into a makeshift fortification, and Ellean and Angeline busied themselves gathering all the arrows they could find. Sigrith's daughter Sigern came back to the square with her two companies of axes--two hundred Rukh now down to forty still able to fight--while Kersten gathered three fresh companies and headed off via the south part of town to the relief of Egon. The Westdubbik pikes and the Tarnver mountain men held the sides of the square against already fierce attack. The fighting grew to a crescendo and held it for an hour without pause as all around the plaza the two sides fought, with soldiers in the front falling only to provide a place to stand for the soldiers behind them. Blood was everywhere, as well as discarded weapons, broken arrows, missing pieces of clothing and a few limbs and heads. The enemy could not close the west side of the square: there upon the west gate with its Imperial-built tower stood Thane Archibard of Maklos and his own mountain men and women, along with Ellean Rain and the almost eleven-year-old Lady Anne, and their supply of arrows was kept up by Angeline and her son Jack and as many servants as they could corral. With them stood Sir Rogier, looking out like a sea captain from his bridge for any sign of the return of the Countess.
Kersten fought through the burned-out north side of Angren and came within sight of the stockade, just at the moment that it was being overrun. With a cry of anger she led her companies, who came from every province that still paid taxes to the Countess, charging down upon the enemy. These wilted before the onslaught--a hundred or so Avar skirmishers who turned and ran at the sound of the Rukh war-cry, after so much battle already. They were back down the road to Vonnis before Duke Salvar stopped their flight, and never noticed that most of the Rukh whoops came from Westdubbikan and Tarnverian throats. A dozen champions of the Avars stood their ground, but Kersten leapt upon the wall in defiance of their arrows and spears and slew three of them with two strokes of her axe. The rest fell to the weight of the fresh companies.
Kersten found that most, but not all, of the defenders were dead. Egon was still propped up on a battered chair, bleeding from a number of major wounds. He seemed all right considering. "You could've hurried a bit, sister," he said to her.
"We did not tarry, Lord Egon," she replied, "and I'm not your sister."
"Oh, no," cried a young girl of the Rukh in dismay. "It's Martin!"
"What? Not Martin!" She ran over and found the lanky scout lying in a pool of blood. Kersten and three of her women knelt about him, close to tears. "He fathered my eldest," said one. "And he was no fighter, either," said another. "Well, he drinks with the heroes."
"Not quite yet," said Martin, rousing himself.
"Don't move," said Kersten. "You're worse off than you think."
"He does look awful," said another. "All that blood."
Martin looked dubiously at the pool of gore. "It's not mine," he said. "Is it?"
Kersten reached into his pack and found his pipe. "At least he still has this," she said. "Put some of his pipe-leaf into it and give him a light, he'll be fine. Just don't let him suck it in too hard, or he might burst something. And if smoke comes out any holes, put plaster in them." She got up, much relieved, and went over to Egon. "So, brother, you have held your position. Maybe the Countess will give you back some of your unpaid taxes."
Egon said nothing. Kersten reached out and patted him on the cheek. He fell from his chair onto the ground. Martin of Auzel was the only survivor among the stockade's defenders.
Still the hot afternoon wore on. Kersten could hear the battle raging on the other side of town, and saw Duke Salvar himself gathering another five hundred of his reserves to throw into the fight. In the square, the initial onslaught had not pushed back the frail line of defense, but a new wave broke past Sigrith's barrier. Several dozen huge Avars took on the Thane of Skavin's infantry, which fought valiantly but was steadily being crushed. Thane Wolrich himself fell unconscious with a gash in his head from a cudgel. The rest tried to hold their places around his body, but man by man they were being slain. Sigfrinda, seeing their plight, gathered a dozen of her kin and charged in, cutting her way through to the Avar champion.
A little space cleared for them, as if all else stopped to see their duel. They fought for an unknown time, but when Sigfrinda slipped on a discarded spear, the huge Avar stepped in and cut her nearly in half with his scimitar. Sigrith saw her daughter fall and cried out in anger, charging headlong and alone upon the champion. He turned with a laugh to meet her, but she was too smart for him even in her shock and grief; her feint fooled him and then her axe ripped clean through his massive neck.
Sigrith looked around. The battle in the square began all over again, but close at hand lay two of her granddaughters, Sigern's girls, and at least half of those who had come down from Skavin. One was Geoffrey de Bimless; near him lay the bodies of the Countess's grooms Wulf and Harald. All around were more dead, Clanishmen and some women, unknown to her. Many Avars lay about as well, and unknown among them were Hakeen's vizir, Jabal, and Hakeen's brother Baku, who had fancied himself a great warrior. She swallowed her emotions and called in a loud voice for a retreat to the zone around the gate.
There was a momentary lull, but the imperial infantry sensed victory and charged into the open area that the Clanish fighters had abandoned. Again, they were premature. Now the archers on the tower had easy targets for a few minutes, until Sigrith had gathered enough of her remaining infantry to resume the melee. But where in all this carnage was Kersten?
Duke Salvar and his retinue of guards dashed back and forth, catching fleeing troops and sending them back into town through holes in the north wall. The Countess's neck was within his grasp, if only he could close his hands upon it! "Go, go," he kept shouting, and more companies poured down Angren's main street and over the ruins of the north side toward the square and the west gate. Kersten looked out from the stockade and saw that the Duke knew not of her nearness. "Come, girls," she shouted to a dozen of her closest comrades, and they charged over the stone walls with a loud cry.
The Duke was startled by the attack, and for a moment even feared for his life. Yet he was game for a fight, and a renowned fencer. He pulled down his visor and drew his sword for the first time since the opening of the battle. Around him his guard took on Kersten's nude and reckless warriors, and the biggest of the Rukh came right at him. "Armor might help," he taunted her as he waded in, swing his sword in an arc at belly level.
"Being able to see might help," she retorted, dodging. He whirled around, and there she stood, her axe at ready. "Your majesty," she said, "I would like to know if you've slain any famous warriors in your life."
"Many," he said, lunging at her again. She dodged again, and when he turned she was standing there smiling at him once more.
"I only ask because it always sounds good in song, if the man who is slain has himself cut down many heroes. So--any names?"
"The warrior Kersten comes to mind," said Salvar, aiming a devious blow at her hips.
"Kill first, gloat later," she said as she leapt in the air over his swing. She brought her axe around and took him in the back of the head. The last thing he noticed as he fell was his escort littering the ground, and the whoops of the warrior women like the baying of wolves in the night.
Word of the Duke's end coincided with a final loss of momentum in the major thrust. The press in the square became slack, and the sides pulled apart with a final exchange of views. As evening came, the forces of the Emperor fell back from the town, not in panic, retreating across the ashes of northern Angren in an orderly manner. Here and there a bold leader made a preemptive counterattack, or a frustrated company turned to fight back against the stings of pursuing archers, but the battle was over for the day. The defenders were just starting to realize this when they heard horns blowing south of the river and discovered the unfought Cataphracts returning with their weary Countess.
Of ten thousand imperial infantry, some six thousand were dead or dying, but of five thousand defenders only half were still alive. Thane Wolrich would live, but Thane Archibard of Maklos had fallen to an arrow from the square; Sigrith's daughter Sigfrinda was dead, as were three of her granddaughters, and Sigern and Siglind were wounded. Martin of Auzel beat them both on that score, with a deep spear-thrust in his side and five lesser stab-wounds on his arms and legs, a cut on his forehead and two crushed fingers. Wulf and Harald and many more of the Nikolad garrison had fallen, that had survived the siege there and many battles since. Egon was dead, as was Thane Rodrik, leading a countercharge in the house-to-house fighting of the midday, a failed attempt to relieve his vassal and teacher. Frak Egonsson was sorely wounded, but would survive. Many nobles had died, including Geoffrey de Bimless and Sir Rogier's son-in-law Anair of Angren, whose father Armand had been executed right here in Angren by the Farlainers in the first days of their occupation. Many more peasants and Rukh warriors had given their lives for their countess, more in number than Count Edmund had ever had in a living army. Yet for each of the Clanish dead, there were two or more of the imperial side, boys from Calway or Dukesfal or Tarvok or Syrud or Annavil or Allorane or Piraf or Avigon itself, whose stake in this fight must have been a mystery to them even as they fell.
This was the scene that greeted the exhausted Countess and her elder daughter, entering the square to the ragged cheering of the surviving defenders. They took it all in without a word, took in the numbers, the names, took in the tactical situation, took in the piles of corpses rotting around them. Wounded soldiers were lined up against walls and laid out on blankets, and many ordinary folk, drafted as nurses, tended them. Miranda mac Conahay was among them, giving gentle orders and fretting over the dying.
"My lady," said Stephen, the Vonnis Citadel guard who had escaped and come through Angren with her fourteen years ago.
"Stephen!" Vivian cried out, and she hugged him like a long-lost brother.
"My lady," he said, flustered, "the Imperial knights have retired to their camp. You are wanted in Rain Hall."
"Of course," she said, letting him go with a pat on the back. She started over, and Angeline and Ellean joined her, but did not impose upon her silence. Anne came up, looking as though she had aged ten years in a day. Vivian picked her up and carried her toward the West Gate. The girl hugged her neck and whimpered softly.
"My lady," said a middle-aged woman in a bloodstained dress, one of Miranda's drafted nurses, "what shall we do--?"
"With the wounded? Try to get them under what roofs there are." Vivian sighed. "I'll try to come see them tonight. Are there many--can we save--?"
"Many will live," said the nurse, "more, if you can come, my lady."
"I'll come," she replied, "but I must rest first, and before that, there is the council." She gave the nurse a tired smile and turned toward the hall. All this blood, she thought, and still there are enough men to fight again tomorrow if He wants.
When she got to Rain Hall, she heard out all the tales of the battle, and heard Sir Tylon tell of the long ride on which the Countess's cavalry had led the Emperor, and when they were done it seemed to her that what effort she had given this day was nothing compared to the possibly meaningless sacrifice of her foot soldiers.
"It's all on me from here on," she told all those who had packed into the dining room. "This will be settled between me and Him. Sir Tylon, may I ask you--"
"To serve as your herald?"
"More or less. Go to the imperial camp with token of parley. Tell them, tell the Emperor if you can, that he and I must settle this ourselves. In the square in Angren. Tell him that."
"In the square."
"Yes. And be careful. There's been enough pointless dying today already."
Vivian and her daughters went out and spent some time among the wounded: yes, many would live, some would not. An hour and a half later, she was back at the dining table, her head in her hands, half-asleep in fact, with her daughters and her scouts and her military leaders all sitting around in silence. Three horses rode up and one man dismounted. A young rider of the Farlain rebels came in bearing a sack. He knelt before Vivian.
"What is it?" she asked, a cold dread invading her already sick heart.
"I cannot say, my lady," he replied, not because he didn't know. His mind was afire with anger. She took the sack and looked inside, then closed it again and stood up. She set the thing on the table, and Frenerac reached out and took it.
Inside the sack was the head of Sir Tylon, the faithful knight who had sacrificed everything for his friend and liege lord, and for the Countess. The people in the room sat stunned, staring back at those staring eyes. He had just been with them, they thought; it seemed like a minute since he had gone out the open door, without hesitation to his death.
Not a word was spoken. Only one by one did they realize that the Countess Vivian was missing from the room, gone out into the night through the same door.
She walked straight to a great gap in the wall north of the gate. Climbing over broken stone, she made her way into the square. The wounded had been moved, and now no one living was about, but the dead were many. A cold breeze blew over Angren, a town of the dead, and a thin mist crept in from the river.
Vivian stood in the middle of the square and called out in a loud voice, "Where are you, Emperor? Why won't you meet me here? Are you afraid of me, that you settle for murdering my friends? Are you a coward as well as a murderer? How many names must I name you before you come to face me? Come forth and meet me, tyrant!"
But her words just echoed among the stones and fell among the piles of corpses.
Weaver did not see Vivian leave the room, but he saw Susan hurry after her, and he hurried after Susan. He walked quickly, but still the girl was ahead of him; outside, he broke into a run, but she was running; no matter how fast he tried to go, Susan stayed in front. He followed her through the gap in the wall, and then he almost caught up, for she shrank back against the stones at the echo of her mother's challenge. Before them, the square at the west end of the town, the scene of the battle's worst carnage, was empty but for the dead and the dust and the stains of blood and the broken arrows and bits of armor--and the Countess Vivian, who stood alone in the moonlight. Weaver could not take his eyes off of her. She had never looked so small.
Susan stepped forth from the wall, walked out a dozen steps, still perhaps a dozen steps from where her mother stood.
"Come forth and meet me, tyrant!" echoed about the low walls. And there he was: but not before the Countess. He stood facing Susan, three feet from her, and when she saw him he smiled. Indeed he gloated as he looked down on her. His smile rooted Susan to the stones under her feet. He held a knife in his hand, the jeweled knife that had tasted her mother's blood near this very spot, and his eyes held hers in a firm cold grip.
Weaver did not think, but sprinted from the cleft in the wall, leapt upon the Emperor Himself as He went to stab the heiress. Never in all the years of the Empire had a mere knight of the provinces dared to even touch the One. But Weaver threw his august foe back with the weight of his body, as Susan flinched. Vivian suddenly saw it all. She rushed to close the empty space between her and the struggle.
Sir Francis Weaver fell back into her arms. He still grasped the knife, wrenched from the Emperor's hand, its blade stuck deep in his chest. His blood welled out like water from a broken dam. He looked up, blue eyes into her blue eyes, and his lips moved. He managed to say, "Well, this is how I wanted to die, more or less," and then he went limp and slipped from her grasp.
The Emperor looked up from the fallen knight and met their eyes: Vivian and Susan. They riveted him as he stood. He fought back, but in a moment Anne joined them. The three held him in place and flayed his spirit. They battered him, they raked him with their claws, they stabbed him with their steely eyes. He would not die, he could not escape. He could not even struggle for the upper hand. No prospect appeared to him, he who had dreamt such dreams and fought such wars and returned from the greatest defeat in history, for he was the Last Emperor of yore, as Vivian had guessed. They knew him, and in their knowledge, the three women condemned him with the judgement of the next age of history, the age he had striven to delay.
Vivian sensed people approaching: she sensed the fierce frightened anger of Ellean Rain. The errand-rider raised her bow with a curse. The Emperor waved a hand behind him, and the arrow flew wild, and a moment later Ellean, unconscious, hit the ground. The three women redoubled their pounding.
Another person came up, a warm and familiar person. Vivian reached back and found that mysterious well of Willd's strength. She drank deep of it, wondering. Then she turned her blue eyes on the Emperor.
Not shifting her gaze from the man in white, not even blinking, she bent and picked up the jeweled blade from Weaver's hand. "You brought me the knife," she said to the Emperor.
"You can't kill me," he replied blankly.
While Susan and Anne held him with their glare, Vivian brought the knife forward. It merged with the Emperor's torso. He didn't show pain, only astonishment as he looked at them, then down at the rush of blood onto her hand and his robe and down, dripping onto the already bloody ground. "And yet," said Vivian, "you do seem to be dying."
The Last Emperor fell to his knees. His pride and wisdom, his great anger, his will and his overwhelming desire, his greatest dream in history--all were ebbing, and he was just an old man dying in the square of a provincial town. He looked up at Vivian and Susan and Anne, as if for mercy or explanation, but they only pounced upon his spirit, rending it sinew from nerve as the Imperial Blood poured out upon the stones of Angren.