‘Make ready,’ he told them. His men, their faces white with dread, prepared for his order. At the other end of the city, Captain Andri and his men had already engaged. Breck could hear the faint din of their battle over the roar of his own. He turned back toward the gates and watched the Norvans struggle into the avenue, falling over themselves in the storm of arrows and quickly piling bodies. A chariot had overturned near the gates, giving the bowmen time to reload. Aliston took quick advantage, directing his longbows toward the halted horde. The rain of arrows drove the Norvans backward, sending them tumbling from their rearing horses. The Rolgan commander under his flag slashed his sword in the air, screaming obscenely at his army to advance.
Breck knew the time had come. His whole body shook in angry terror. He glanced at Aric, whose frozen face stayed locked on the Norvan, then at Lukien, who turned to nod at him.
‘Now, Breck,’ said the Bronze Knight. ‘For Liiria.’
The image of his wife bloomed in Breck’s mind. ‘For Liiria,’ he echoed. Raising his sword high and his voice in a primal scream, he ordered his Chargers forward.
At the base of Library Hill, Rodrik Varl heard the clash coming from the city. From his place in the shadow of the great library he could barely see Thorin’s army as it entered Koth, but he could plainly discern Baron Glass on his hillside, imperiously watching the bloodshed unfold.
Rodrik’s army had so far done as Thorin ordered. His thousand or so mercenaries, many of whom had been with him for years, had surrounded Library Hill but had not yet moved against it. The catapults they had dragged with them from Andola were properly stationed, most within reach of the library, and shot had been loaded into their armatures. Still, the teams that operated the great machines had done nothing more than prepare their weapons. Like the horsemen and foot soldiers, they waited for word from Varl before attacking.
Baron Glass had made himself perfectly understandable — Varl was not to attack until the city itself was taken and secured, and the baron came to the library. But Varl had seen Thorin’s handiwork that day hunting with Onikil. He had known Thorin for many years and had always been jealous of Jazana’s affection for him, but Thorin had changed horribly since returning, and Varl had no doubt that his armour was the cause. Thorin had never been an evil man, but he was one now, and Jazana was simply too love-blind to see it.
Varl loved Jazana as a man loves a woman and thought of her often. She knew he loved her and didn’t seem to care. But Varl’s conscience still prevailed, and he knew whatever befell the people of the library would be ugly. There were not just soldiers defending the library; there were civilians as well. Women and children. Given the chance, Thorin might slaughter them all.
The way he slaughtered Onikil.
Varl listened to the sounds of battle rumbling out of Koth. He shifted uneasily in his saddle, on the verge of a terrible decision. If he did what he was thinking, it was doubtful that even Jazana could save him from Thorin. Next to him, his old friend and fellow mercenary Rase waited with him, just as troubled by recent happenings. Rase had been in Jazana’s employ almost as long as Rodrik Varl himself, and because they hailed from the same part of Norvor they shared a rural accent. They had already discussed their plans.
‘Now, Roddy?’ Rase asked.
Varl sucked his bottom lip like a worried child. Nobody wanted this war, not even Jazana. All she had wanted was to lure Thorin back to her. Even Thorin wouldn’t want this, not if he was sane.
But he’s insane, Varl concluded. There was no way he could let the men and women in the library fall to him. He had to give them a chance, at least.
Rase looked at Varl anxiously. ‘Roddy? Now?’
The order felt impossibly heavy. Varl shuddered under its weight. They had all agreed to do this thing, but now, seeing the library so real and vital. .
‘I don’t want to do this,’ he whispered. ‘Rase, I don’t want to destroy it.’
‘Bricks and mortar,’ Rase reminded him. ‘That’s all it is. We’re saving lives, Roddy.’
How many lives had been given to build the library? Varl wondered. All so wars like this could end, and ignorance and darkness, too.
‘Yes,’ said Varl finally. ‘Now’s good.’
Rase rode away from Rodrik, not too quickly, to notify the catapult teams.
Major Nevins was outside in the yards when he heard the first catapult fire. He had not expected the assault so soon, wrongly assuming Baron Glass would first want to conquer the city before attacking the library, which was surrounded anyway and of no real threat to him. The sound of the catapult launching its payload was like the pop of a distant explosion, but when he saw the rock tumbling skyward he knew how very close it was.
‘Take cover!’ he cried, knowing it was already too late. With the boulder sailing skyward his men on the wall had no real chance to escape. Murdon, the Liirian he’d chosen as his second, rode madly on horseback through the yard, flailing his arms and warning his troops. The shadow of the flying stone engulfed him as it passed overhead.
Library Hill shook to its core when the payload hit the wall. The mortar of the structure spiderwebbed with cracks, sending sharp-edged bits of rock exploding outward. Standing just below the wall, Nevins hurried his horse toward cover as the boulder hit the earth. The concussion sent his horse scurrying. Up on the wounded wall, the men who’d been stationed there were gone. Most had retreated inside. A great red smudge described the others.
‘Mighty Fate, save us,’ muttered Nevins. He wheeled his horse about and shouted to his men, gathering them to charge. At the bottom of the hill he could see the Norvan mercenaries preparing to ride. The telltale crack of another catapult split the day, followed by another and another still, until the air was filled with rock and shrapnel, all careening toward the library. As the payloads landed they pummelled the great structure, buckling its thick walls and shaking its tall towers. The incredible noise sent Nevins reeling. His skull echoed with their blows.
‘Murdon, secure the civilians,’ he ordered. He knew Vanlandinghale and the others would do their best, but none of them had expected the attack so soon. ‘Make sure they get cover down below. Tell Van to be ready! We’ll hold them off as long as possible!’
Murdon signalled his understanding and galloped toward the rear of the library. The rest of Nevins’ men — many of them loyal from his days in Andola — circled around him and drew their weapons. Down the hill, the Norvans were already progressing up the road, not wasting any time as they charged into battle. There would be no stopping them, Nevins knew.
‘Do your best, lads,’ he shouted to his men. ‘Make your mothers proud!’
He did not wait for an underling to sound the charge. Instead Major Nevins let out a horrible shriek and rode like a madman toward the mercenaries.
The ceiling over Van’s head shook, sending debris onto his hair and uniform. He had been directing Breck’s wife Kalla into the cellars below the library when the first blast came. He knew instantly that it was a catapult shot, and that the battle had begun.
Standing near Mirage, the two looked at each other with shared dread. Mirage had been gathering the children of the library — very few of them, thankfully — to stay with Kalla, who was like a mother to them all and who had become an unofficial leader of the women of the library. To Van’s surprise, none of the children screamed when they heard the concussion, but successive ones brought them finally to tears. As they hurried down the cellar steps, Kalla directed them all to stay quiet. Mirage hurried to be with Van.