During the high notes, her whole world narrowed to Elica's voice soothing, supporting, keeping her focused on what she had to do.
Which was nothing.
Except ride the pain.
Sing the scale.
Endure.
During the low notes, when she could think a little, all she could think of was how totally her body had moved out of her control. All her personal boundaries had been breached. She felt as though she were being physically invaded.
And she didn't like it.
The valley stirred in answer to her Song. A hillock began to form in the cornfield, shoots growing out of it at odd angles as more and more earth moved into the shape.
A head.
Shoulders.
Two more bodies lay sprawled in the pass. One had managed to crawl back far enough to be dragged to safety.
"What's he doing?" Pjerin demanded, wiping his eyes as smoke and steam rose off the barricade. "He knows we can break up those unclosed turtles of his before the fire really catches. He's wasting lives!"
"He also knows how long we had to prepare, that we have a limited number of missiles on the battlements, and a limited number of people to get more." Jura explained without taking her gaze off the pass. "My guess is his ram's nearly done and he wants to disarm us as much as possible before he brings it out. He's forming up another square."
"Then we'll let it come!"
"We can't risk a lucky shot actually burning down the barricade, Your Grace."
"There has to be another way we can stop him then." Pjerin spat the words out like a challenge. "Ohrid will not tall."
"What about the kigh?" Theron asked, turning to Tadeus. "The Cemandians are terrified of the kigh. Couldn't you Sing something at them?"
Tadeus shook his head, dark curls lifting slightly in breeze only he could feel. "We're not allowed to use the kigh that way, Majesty. We've taken vows."
"And if I release you from them?"
"Begging your Majesty's pardon, but we didn't make them to you." All at once, Tadeus smiled. "But that does give me an idea. Captain!"
The troop captain, one leg straddling the top layer of logs, crossbow trained down the pass to cover the four guards attempting to put out the latest fires, grunted without turning.
"Does your troop know 'Shkoder's Glory'?"
He snorted and a couple of the guards glanced up at the bard with surprised expressions. "Of course they do. Why?"
Tadeus twitched his heavily embroidered, turquoise silk collar into place. "The next time that shield wall approaches, we're going to give a little concert, your troop and I." Turning the brilliance of his smile on Theron, he explained. "The Cemandians are so terrified of Singing the kigh that they have very little vocal music. A chorus of 'Shkoder's Glory' by an entire troop of guard in this enclosed space ought to give them something to think about."
Jura nodded approvingly. "Think about anything other than what you're doing and a tortoise falls apart; not enough room in there for mistakes. Might work."
"Sire?" The troop captain came off the barricade and stared up at the king.
"Best decide, Majesty," Pjerin called. "Here they come again."
Theron nodded. "Do it."
Tadeus straightened and took a deep breath. His clear tenor rose over the noise around him. "Seven hearts and seven hands and seven lives are all that stand…"
Lady Jura laid a surprisingly strong alto under the bard's voice.
"… shall we yield such hard bought land…"
One by one the guard joined in.
"… not while breath remains. Though no one lives to tell our story, we fight for greater gain than glory…"
The left arm pulled itself free. And then the right.
"This is impossible." When Terezka had given birth, although the kigh had been very present, they'd been no larger than usual. "Trust Annice."
Eyes on the huge kigh forming between him and the keep, Jazep fell, somehow managing to avoid landing on either instrument. With one foot back under him, he paused. Over the sound of his breath scraping in and out of his lungs, he could hear singing.
The kigh cocked its massive head to listen as well. * * *
Vencel clutched at Stasya's arm as the song echoed between the mountain and the keep. "What are they doing?"
The bard shrugged. "I'm not sure." She knew the song. It was one of those patriotic death before dishonor anthems sure to be requested if there were two or more guards in the same inn.
"Is it bardic?"
"Not the way you mean." She frowned down at the approaching Cemandians, tried just for a moment not to think about Annice, and almost understood.
"Why aren't we stopping them?" Vencel scooped up a melon-sized rock in each hand. When they were gone, he had only three remaining. Along the battlements, other villagers began shouting similar questions.
Stasya waved at them to be quiet. Even if the words were in another language, surely they could hear what was going on.
The guard seemed to be throwing the song at the enemy.
This square was not as solid as the others had been. Cracks were definitely showing.
The first naming arrow hit the barricade, but the second plowed into the dirt a body length away.
An answering arrow flashed from the barricade and into the space between two shields.
The song gained in defiant volume.
The square fell apart as those at the rear, without the press of bodies to drive them forward, broke and ran.
"Bows!" Stasya yelled. "Your due's quite a shot," she added a moment later as a second Cemandian fell. Pjerin was the only one at ground level using a mountain bow.
Vencel grinned and notched an arrow. "We eat a lot of venison."
"All right, Annice, on this next contraction, I want you to push."
Annice forced her eyes open for the first time in what seemed like days. "Push… what?" she croaked. She'd always thought that when it came to it, her body would know instinctively what to do. Her body didn't have the faintest idea.
The legs under the great curve of belly were short and took very little time to form.
"I don't expect that'll work twice," Theron pronounced as the song fragmented into insults and jeers hurled at the retreating foe. "Prince Rajmund has proven himself too well prepared to invade without someone around who knows how things actually work."
"Albek," Pjerin snarled.
Theron nodded. "Very likely. Tadeus, what's wrong?" The bard had gone pale and his hands had come up as though he were… blind.
"The kigh. They're gone."
Up on the battlements, Stasya groped at the air. "Shit. Shit. Shit!"
"What?"
"They're coming with the battering ram!"
"So?"
She swallowed fear. This isn't like it was in the hole. This isn't like it was in the hole. "So we're on our own."
"That's it, Annice. Push."
Screaming would take more than she had left.
They'd had to cannibalize at least two wagons to hold the length and weight of the tree. A spiked metal cup hammered onto the head protected the men at the cross-pieces from the archers behind the barricade while shields fixed to the ram covered them from above.
Iron-bound wheels struck sparks against the stone of the pass.
"We can't stop that," Theron yelled. "Clear the barricade! Get ready for what follows!"
"To horse!" Jura bellowed.
Pjerin fired one last arrow, then ran with the rest. It infuriated him that he had to turn his back on Cemandia if only for a moment.
The earth trembled.
Several of the guards were flung to their knees.
Someone on the battlements screamed.
Paying no attention to the tiny creatures around its feet, the huge kigh reached the barricade an instant before the battering ram. As the metal head shattered the spikes, it ignored the shards of splintering wood that slammed into its legs and the lower curve of its belly and reached down, wrapping both hands around the massive trunk.