* * *
There were fewer people gathered at the gates than Maren would have thought. Only a few hundred. Maybe more rational minds had prevailed as people truly realized that surrender meant Kern. And Kern meant…well, maybe worse than death.
Daric faced them one last time. “Are you sure?”
A few, probably the ones who’d stirred the frenzy in the first place, looked at him with disgust, even thinly-veiled hatred. A larger number shifted on their feet, perhaps doubting their chosen path but unwilling to turn back now.
Daric took a deep breath and took Adare’s hand in his. “Open the gates.”
Soldiers began pulling on the massive chains that had kept Kern out for two years. They creaked and groaned, but slowly a small gap appeared. A few more pulls and the gap was big enough for a man to pass through.
“That’s enough,” Daric said. Then he met his subject’s eyes for the last time as, one by one, they left the protection of the walls.
When the gates were once again shut tight, Daric leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes.
“Daric.” Adare said after a minute. “We should get you somewhere safer.”
He nodded. “Let’s get to the castle. I want to watch, to see if…”
No one wanted to finish that thought, and they all walked back to the castle in silence, climbing onto the ramparts to watch the people slowly making their way to Kern’s army.
It seemed half the city had the same idea. Maren had seen the doubt in their faces, the indecision. Some had questioned their decision to stay. Some worried they’d doomed themselves to a slow and painful death. Either way, the choice had been made. Now all they could do was watch.
The refugees approached Kern’s line and a soldier rode out to meet them. Words were exchanged and then the rider went back, returning a minute later with a larger group. Five total.
But Maren could only look at the man in front.
Kern.
He sat proudly on his horse. His shoulders straight. His head high.
He stopped ten feet in front of the ragged group and slid off his horse. Then he took a few steps forward and gave them a slight bow. Maren saw his lips move in words she couldn’t hear and realized she was grasping Adare’s hand in hers.
Then Kern turned his face towards the castle, as if he could look right into Daric’s eyes.
Dread like Maren had never experienced filled her, crushing her in its grip. Adare must have felt it too. And Daric. And the rest of the city. Almost in unison, they held a collective breath. Waiting.
But nothing happened.
Maren almost thought she’d imagined that feeling of dread.
Until Kern turned back to the small group gathered in front of his army. He raised a single open hand, as if to signal his soldiers, and then closed his fist with what felt like an audible snap.
As one, every single man, woman, and child who’d surrendered collapsed.
The silence grew until it was a weight threatening to crush them all.
And then the sobbing started. Deep and soul-wrenching, piercing Maren’s heart until she fell to her knees beside Daric and Adare, their cries joining the mourning all around them.
Until one voice cut through it all. It wasn’t loud. Nor was it something they heard with their ears. It was a whisper on the bitter wind, carried to all the people of Tredare.
There is no escape. There is no surrender.
Ten
The castle rocked as another shell hit the outer walls. No one even flinched anymore. No one did anything. There was nothing to do but live with the damage, the starvation, and the rats until there was no living at all.
Kern couldn’t be defeated.
Maren had tried. Every day for more than two and a half years, she’d spent hours in her father’s study, pouring over books until her eyes blurred or she was forced to leave to help put out a fire, or hand out rations, or bury the dead.
She’d found nothing, and now it took everything she had to maintain any kind of hope.
“Maren?”
Daric stood in the doorway. He looked older, gray coloring his temples much earlier than it should. But then, he shouldn’t have dark shadows under his eyes or creases in his forehead either. He’d expended everything trying to hold his kingdom together.
Now he grasped a crumpled piece of paper in shaking hands, and stared at it with an intensity that scared her.
“Daric, what is it?”
He didn’t answer, just stood there, staring.
“Daric!”
His eyes met hers and her breath caught. Hope. It was there. Faint, like a flicker of a candle.
She grabbed the letter from his hand and skimmed the contents, not even realizing she was holding her breath, until she had to lean heavily against the table.
“Is it possible?” Daric whispered. “Is it his writing?”
Maren didn’t have to look again. She knew it like her own. “Yes. It’s Philip’s. Where did you get it? How did you get it?”
Daric stared down at the letter again, almost like he couldn’t believe it was real. “It was wrapped around an arrow that nearly embedded itself into one of my soldiers.” He sank into a chair. “Could it really be true? Could Philip actually be gathering an army, intending to fight Kern?”
“I don’t know,” she said, desperate for answers that weren’t going to be there. “But I don’t think he’d send this, give us hope, if he wasn’t.”
Daric stood, taller than she’d seen in a year. “I’m going to tell Adare and the Council, but not everyone else yet. If it’s true, we can be as ready as possible. If it’s true…maybe we can live.”
When the door closed behind him, Maren buried her face in her hands. Philip was alive. He was coming to save them.
And would most likely be killed in the process.
Eleven
They’d received another message. And this time it came with a sort of validation. Kern’s men were preparing. And not for another set of shots at the castle. Their attention was turned outward, to a different enemy.
Philip had gathered an army. For two months, they’d made their way towards the castle, battling smaller bastions of Kern’s men. Philip had been victorious every time.
But Maren was as terrified as she’d been two months ago. Philip didn’t have magic. And Kern’s forces were made up of more than just men.
“I can’t believe it might finally be over,” Adare said, staring out the windows at where Kern’s armies crawled over the land like a disease.
Adare was thinner than she’d been three years ago, but the siege had done one good thing. It had given her something else to focus on besides the death of her son.
“It might not be over.” Maren turned away from the window. “It took ten mages to defeat Kern last time. Philip doesn’t have mages. How can he possibly win?”
Adare put her arms around her. “I don’t know, but Philip knows what it took last time. Would he really attempt this if he didn’t have a plan?”
Maren wasn’t sure. If he were angry enough? At Kern. At discovering their relationship. She just didn’t know. The old Philip wouldn’t have risked thousands of lives knowing they’d likely lose. But she didn’t know who Philip was now.
Or what decisions he’d make.
She only knew she was scared. For him. And for herself. Because if he died, part of her would die with him.
Twelve
Philip’s army had arrived a week ago, and the fighting hadn’t stopped since. Everyday Maren watched as the men got closer and closer to Delorme. Closer and closer to Kern.
Now they were here.
Even from the castle she could hear swords clashing and men screaming, see bodies lying lifeless on the ground. It was the stuff of nightmares.
And it wasn’t over.
And there was nothing she could do.
Except watch and wait and ho—
&
nbsp; A huge crack rent the air, shaking the ground beneath her feet and the walls surrounding her. For a moment, Maren waited in fear, not knowing what it meant, or if it was good. Or bad.
Then a new sound rose from the battlefield, and Maren ran to the window, so unsure she didn’t dare breathe.
It was silence.
She gazed towards the battlefield, where everything was so still it was as if time had frozen. Then she saw one of Kern’s “men” slump to the ground, lifeless. And then another. And another. Magic, their creator, no longer sustained them. Which meant only one thing.
Kern had been defeated.
Kern’s human men began to realize the same thing, and Maren watched them lay down their arms and surrender.
Within minutes, the silence turned to cheers – on the battlefield, through the city as word spread, and in the castle itself. Then those cheers turned to a chant.
“Philip.”
Maren fell to her knees and sobbed in relief.
Philip was alive. The city was safe. No matter what happened now, no matter what happened in the past, they could begin to get back everything they’d lost.
Maren’s thoughts strayed to Philip, and her momentary relief faded. Maybe she couldn’t get back everything she’d lost. Hopefully, the rest would be enough to build a new life. Hopefully, she could find happiness – eventually.
The End
Want to Read More?
Siege continues with the full length novel, Borrowed Magic, available for purchase February 1, 2016 at your favorite online retailer.