But more were coming. How many more? How far away were they? She snatched a blade up from a fallen combatant, and hewed her way through the mass of men. Her blue dress was covered in dirt, spattered with blood, ripped at the knees, and, gods, was it inconvenient. She hacked and kicked and burned her way through the crowd and finally was clear of the first ring of attackers.
She stood on the outer lawns of Danan Hall, breathing hard, staring around her, wondering where the next assault might come from.
A hawk plummeted from above, talons outstretched. As soon as he touched down, he took Donnal’s shape. His feet were bare and covered with blood.
“How many?” she demanded. “How far away?”
“Maybe a thousand advancing from south and west,” he said, pointing. “The marlord’s reserve soldiers are on the run from the north. But the enemy will arrive first.”
“How many in the marlord’s troops?”
“Easily two thousand. There’s another several thousand that can be summoned, but they’re housed on property a day’s ride from here.”
“How quickly will reinforcements arrive?”
“Maybe an hour.”
“And the advancing troops?”
But she could hear them herself, the thunder of hooves, the shouts of men. “Now,” Donnal whispered just as the first men broke across the horizon line and charged straight for the embattled Hall.
Senneth spun around, flung her arms wide before her, and called up a monstrous wall of flame. It was taller than an oak tree and raced a mile from either side of her; she felt her own skin blister from its roaring heat. At least fifty men cantered through it, unable to pull up their horses in time. They were shrieking in pain, and their mounts snorted and reared and threw them to the ground. Through the wicked crackle of the flames she could hear shouts and cries on the other side, questions flung out, orders issued, orders remanded. One or two more soldiers braved the barrier and came through, livid with fire.
Senneth spread her fingers as wide as they would go, extended her arms before her, and pushed. The whole long wall of fire crept slowly away from her, leaving a charred band of black in the grass. More cries and yelping on the other side as the attackers realized the conflagration was advancing. She heard a confusion of horse hooves retreating, more shouts, more cursing.
She took a long breath, gathered her strength, and pushed again.
Step by blazing step, she forced the opposing forces backward, till she was crunching through a broad swath of cinders as she crossed her own original line. Donnal gathered himself back into a bird shape and darted away to reconnoiter, returning a few minutes later to report.
“They’re spreading out in both directions,” he said. “Trying to find a way around the flame.”
Senneth nodded. She gathered her fingers into points and stretched her arms wide, extending the wall of fire another quarter mile on each side, another half mile. It was taking all her energy, all her strength, but she could enclose the entire Hall in a circle of flame if she had to. “Where are our reinforcements now?” she asked in a tight voice.
“Another half an hour away. The battle on the inside is nearly won-only a few attackers are still fighting for their lives.”
“Tell the others to gather at the edges of the fire and await any who try to break through.”
She could hear what was almost a smile in Donnal’s voice, though she couldn’t break her concentration enough to look at him. “Tayse has already organized them to do so. He wants to know how long you can hold the wall?”
“Till dawn, if necessary.”
“I don’t think the fight will last that long,” Donnal said. A rustle, a shadow; he had changed and flown away.
Senneth stood where he had left her, spine stretched up, head tipped back, arms still spread as wide as they would go, and fed her soul to the fire. She was alive with magic; a liquid fever careened through her veins. Her fingertips were candlewicks, and flames danced at the end of each one. Each individual strand of her hair was on fire; her eyebrows had been singed. There was nothing in the world except heat and energy and rage. Noises had fallen away, time had ceased to pass or matter. She was an elemental in a primitive state, and she could burn forever.
It was Tayse’s voice that brought her back to a sense of humanity, a sense of self. “Senneth,” he named her, his voice both compelling and soft. “Senneth. Drop your arms. Let the fire die. We have vanquished them. The Hall is safe.”
He said the whole speech three times before his words actually registered. Slowly she opened her eyes, tilted her head forward, allowed her arms to fall to her sides. Instantly, the fire went out. Just as instantly, she was flooded with a multitude of pains. Her back ached, her arms were sore, and Bright Mother of the burning sky, her head hurt so badly she thought it might shatter. She looked around in wonderment a moment, orienting herself. Still daylight, though the sun was low on the horizon. Before her, a scattering of charred and broken bodies littered the ground. Behind her, a grim and efficient cleanup was under way, as servants and soldiers moved through the dead and wounded, searching for friends, carrying away the bodies of enemy and comrade alike.
“What were our costs?” she asked in a hoarse voice.
“More than seventy dead. Mostly Danalustrous men, though a few Brassenthwaite soldiers fell in the defense. The assailants lost four times that number and eventually retreated. Some of Malcolm’s soldiers are pursuing.”
She put a shaky hand up to the back of her neck. Every small movement was agony. Her bones felt brittle and scored by heat. Surely someone had taken a chisel and hammered a thousand holes in her skull. “Who attacked? Could he tell?”
“It appears to be the work of three malcontent vassal lords who had been left out of the negotiations to inherit property outright.” He shrugged. “Now their sons and daughters will inherit nothing but shame.”
He took her arm and she leaned on him heavily as he escorted her back toward the manor house. So many bodies-such a dreadful sight on Malcolm Danalustrous’s well-manicured lawns. “Tell them,” she said. “If they gather up the bodies, I can make a pyre.”
“I think they can make a pyre of their own with more traditional methods,” he said firmly. “You need to rest. You look the color of ash-gray and white. And just as likely to disintegrate.”
“My head hurts,” she said.
“I’ll help you as soon as we get to the room.”
They came upon a pile of fallen bodies; no easy task to pick a way through. Tayse simply lifted Senneth up and carried her around them. She knew she should protest that she was perfectly fine, but she felt utterly dreadful. She leaned her head against his shoulder and listened to the rumble of his voice from deep in his chest. “Your brother is anxious to make sure all is well in Brassenthwaite. He plans to set out for home first thing in the morning.”
“We should leave for Ghosenhall tonight,” she muttered.
“We’ll leave in the morning,” he said. “If your headache is better.”
She wanted to lift a hand to rub her temple, but she couldn’t make the effort. “It’ll take us almost a week to get back.”
“We might be able to push that.”
“I wish we hadn’t come!”
They were almost at the broad, gracious front entrance of the manor, just now stained with blood and piled high with discarded weaponry. Tayse bent to kiss her gently on the forehead. “You saved the Hall,” he said. “They all might be dead if you had not been here.”