The rising flames from the burning barracks cast the estate in livid orange light. Mennick had aimed his spell well-the front of the building was ablaze, blocking the doors. Men crawled out of windows, unarmored and unarmed, coughing. A few ducked out a back door and gathered at the rear.
"Move," shouted Reht, and pointed at the building. "They're assembling in the rear of the barracks."
He need not have uttered the order. Thirty of his men were already thundering for the barracks.
"And 'ware crossbowmen in the village," he shouted after them, but did not know if anyone heard.
Reht, Vors, and Norsim's squad leaped the low stone wall before the Corrinthal manse and charged toward the doors. They swung out of their saddles and bounded up the porch for the large double doors. A wooden symbol hung above the doorway-a rising sun over a rose. Vors split it with his axe.
"You, you, and you," Reht said, indicating Norsim and two others. "Get around back and watch the doors, windows, and cellars. No one escapes." He looked back at the gates to see Dist cut down the last of the gate guards. "Half of Dist's men are to assist. The rest to the village."
Shouting and the noise of scattered combats sounded from all around the grounds. Norsim called for Dist while the other two men started to sprint around the porch toward the back of the house.
Without warning, a column of flame engulfed Reht, Vors, Norsim, and the men around them. The flash of searing heat and blast of explosive force blew Reht onto his back. He found himself staring up at the sky, dazed, his face charred, his armor smoking. He heard moans around him, the smell of burning flesh. The porch posts had caught fire. It would soon spread to the roof.
"This house is favored of the Morninglord," said a hard voice. "And those are his flames."
Reht looked up to see a towering bearded man in a hastily donned breastplate enameled with the rose of Lathander. Other than the armor, he wore only a nightshirt and boots. He held a large flanged mace in a two-handed grip.
In stride, the man crushed the skull of one of Reht's downed men. Blood spattered mace and man. The violence returned Reht to his wits. He rolled over, grabbed his sword, and pulled himself to his knees.
The man raised his mace to kill another, but lightning from the sky slammed into his chest and drove him against the wall of the manse.
Mennick.
The priest of Lathander, the rose enameled on his breastplate blackened, sagged to the porch, unmoving.
Vors climbed to his feet, his long hair and beard singed, his face blistered. He roared and drove his axe into the priest's chest.
"Up," Reht said to his men, and stood. "Give them no time to organize a defense."
All but two of his men got to their feet. All showed burns, but were hale enough to fight. The two downed men were dead, their exposed flesh as black as seared meat. Reht put them from his mind. He felt the burned flesh on his face and hands. He would have scars, but the pain was tolerable.
Trusting in Norsim and Dist to secure the exterior of the manse, Reht and Vors and a handful of others kicked in the double doors and entered the foyer.
Two guards in the Corrinthal horse-and-sun, each armed with a short spear, charged from the hall beyond and lunged at them. "Die, dog!" yelled the nearer guard.
Reht's shield turned the taller guard's spear point and knocked him off balance. Reht drove his blade into the guard's abdomen and up under his ribcage. The man dropped his spear and fell to his knees, eyes wide, trying to plug the hole in his abdomen with his hands. Reht kicked him to the floor to die.
Vors dodged the stab of the second guard and chopped downward with his axe, cutting the point from the spear and leaving the man with only a wooden haft.
Howling with battle madness, the war priest rushed the guard, drove him backward, pinned him against the wall, and head-butted him in the face. The guard's nose exploded blood and he sagged to the ground. Vors took his spear haft.
Boot stomps and shouts sounded from further within the manse. "More coming," said one of Reht's men.
Another explosion from outside rocked the house.
Vors grabbed the stunned guard by his long brown hair and shook him until the pain focused the man's eyes.
"The Corrinthal scion," Reht said to him.
Vors shook him by the hair. "Lie and you die."
The man's eyes flicked toward the wide, curving stairway visible in the room immediately beyond.
"You get nothing from me," the man said.
Vors circled around him and strangled the man with his own spear haft.
"Upstairs," Reht said, bounding forward. "I lead."
Shouts and screams pulled Kaesa from sleep. A boom sounded and the entire house seemed to shake. Clad only in a nightdress, she jumped from her bed, heart racing, and threw open the shutters of her small, second floor bedroom. She gasped at what she saw.
Flames from the burning barracks painted the sky orange. She could feel the heat even across the distance. Mounted men attacked the house guards as they escaped the flames through the barracks windows. Lots of mounted men.
"Lathander preserve us," she whispered.
Where was Mriistin? Lemdin the house mage? What was happening?
Her heart beat so hard against her ribs that she could not easily breathe. Shouts sounded from within the house and pulled her around. She heard the stomp of boots and shouted orders outside her door. Terror held her immobile. She fought for breath.
Her door flew open and she screamed.
Erthim stood in the door. Her Erthim. He held a bare blade and shield. He wore a shirt of mail but not his breastplate. Kaesa saw figures behind him but could not make out their faces. His men, she assumed.
She ran to him. "Erthim!"
"Kaesa," he said, his tone relieved.
He embraced her tightly but steered her away from the door. Wrapped in his strong arms, she allowed herself to think that all would be well.
"What is happening, Erthim?" she asked.
Shouts sounded from downstairs. Hostile shouts. She heard the ring of blades.
"Is that from the foyer?"
He held her at arm's length and spoke urgently. "Don a cloak and boots. Gather Elden and go out the back of the manor. Do not stop no matter what you see or hear. Do not try to get a mount. The stables are too far. Go on foot and try to get to the stag woods. Hide there until this is past."
She shook her head. She could not leave him, the manse. She started to speak but he cut her off. "Do as I say, Kaesa. Now. Do it for Master Corrinthal. We owe that to him."
Someone in the foyer screamed with pain. A wild shout followed it, more animal than man. Erthim did not turn around. His hands were tight on her shoulders. Tears formed in her eyes but she nodded.
"Take your dagger. Do not let them take you or Elden."
That brought her up short. "What?"
More combat from downstairs.
"They will… do things to him, Kaesa. He is Lord Corrinthal's son. Nod if you understand."
She stared into his eyes, nodded.
"I will come when I can." He embraced her again, hard. "I love you, Kaesa."
He released her, turned, and shut her door behind him without looking back. She heard him barking orders to his men.
She and Erthim had been courting for two months. He would have been her husband. She had not kissed him goodbye. She had not told him she loved him. She started for the door, stopped. He knew she loved him. He had to know.
Crying, she gathered her cloak, her shoes, the dagger she kept in a small sheath near her bedside. Her tears dotted the wooden floor as she moved about. Light from the burning barracks lit the room in flickering orange. The sounds of combat grew louder outside her room. It sounded as if the attackers were on the stairs. More shouts sounded from the grounds outside.