'My Lord, we cannot make a stand here out of guilt-'
'That's not what I'm doing,' Isak said sharply. His eyes flashed a warning. 'Take care how far you question my decisions. Young I might he, but Lord of the Farlan I certainly am. I've had enough of running away for one night; here we make our stand.'
I \e dug his spurs into Toramin's flanks and the huge beast jumped forward ahead of the suzerain. Saroc didn't bother to try and make up the ground. The conversation had been ended. Behind them Count Vesna was already shouting out orders, to the Farlan and Devoted alike. The Temple Plaza was some three hundred yards across. Many of the shrines that ringed the six massive temples in the centre were large enough to provide a physical obstacle; others weren't, standing like the broken crenellations of a buried castle wall.
General Gort had put his men to good use. They had salvaged any-thing they could carry or drag from the surrounding ruins. Shattered carts and wagons, scorched roof timbers and even rubble from every non-consecrated structure on the plaza had been used to plug the gaps In the wall. It was certainly too long to defend entirely, but this meant they could pick which fronts to right on. The heavy infantry would act as mobile barricades where required. With a few ranks behind and shields locked together, they would be able to resist a poorly armed attacker, despite being vastly outnumbered. The smaller shrines were clustered together, and much of the work had been to patch the holes to create long walls that the crazed mobs would just go around, meet¬ing armed soldiers at either end.
'Lord Isak,' called General Gort as soon at the distance permitted, 'I'm glad to see you again so soon.'
He hurried over to meet the Farlan lord, his command staff close on his heels. Isak recognised only one of them from his encounter in Llehden, the Chetse general rather predictably carrying an enormous curved axe, but they all followed General Gort's lead and bowed low to the white-eye.
'Let's forget the pleasantries, shall we?' Isak said curtly, even as he slid from his saddle and went to greet the general with palms up¬turned all the same. 'You're about to be attacked on two sides – more than a legion of the screaming bastards were chasing us this way and, according to my scouts, there are more round the other side of the plaza.'
Isak turned to the soldiers behind him as he spoke and saw the two rangers had caught him up. Tiniq offered Isak a quick bow. Both wore only hauberks and skullcaps, but their bows were held ready as usual. Compared to the heavy scales, reinforced oval shields and long spears of the Devoted infantry, they looked under-prepared for the battle ahead.
'My Lord, we couldn't see any safe way through the streets beyond,' Tiniq said. 'A few hundred followed us back here.' He pointed to the eastern edge of the plaza; there were only two real points of access along that stretch and in the faint torch light they could see the lines of infantry strung across the gaps. A company of lancers was already heading over to support them.
Isak nodded. 'Tiniq, can any of you make it alone back to our army lines?' He was thinking of the unnatural members of his personal guard.
The ranger shrugged. 'Perhaps; Shinir's got the best chance, I'd guess.'
'Ask her if she's confident of getting there. I don't want to throw your lives away if there's no chance, not if 1 might manage to contact them myself.' I lis hand went instinctively to the Crystal Skull on his chest. He'd never yet been able to speak into anyone's mind using it, but Carel always said desperation was the best tutor.
The rangers sped off to consult with their comrades.
'Well, General Gort-' Isak started, then stopped suddenly as his brain managed to catch up and take in the magnificent sight of the six temples that gave the area its name. The nearest was Vasle's, all smooth lines and curves, with five interwoven raised stone channels encircling the main structure like miniature aqueducts. He could just see a trickle of movement in the channels; the holy waters hadn't quite dried up. Perhaps the Gods hadn't been entirely driven from the city.
Beyond Vasle's temple were even more impressive structures, vast buildings designed to house many hundreds of worshippers. Looking around at the other temples he could see clearly – the forest of pillars around Nartis' high altar covered by a jagged series of sloping roofs, and the enormous domed Temple of Death – Isak realised that none of them had been damaged at all. He'd seen quite a few fresh scars on the surrounding shrines and minor temples that formed the outer ring, but the painted frescos and walls of the five temples ringing the Temple of Death all looked pristine.
Oh Gods, he thought wryly, unable to stop himself from smiling. The Devoted are here to protect the temples; any fool could have predicted that, and perhaps Azaer did. The temples haven't been touched, but now we're here, who knows?
'He's got a sense of humour at least,' Isak muttered, prompting a curious look from the general, which he waved away. 'No, it's not important right now. Staying alive is all I care about at the moment.'
Gort nodded quickly and something resembling relief crossed the man's face. Isak only vaguely remembered how they had parted the first time they had met, at the old temple of standing stones in Llehden. He'd been exhausted by his struggle with Aryn Bwr and driven to distraction by the bright moonlight of Silvernight, in no condition to hold a conversation, let alone consider the role of the Devoted in what had happened. He had been barely able to stay on his feet, and had to be escorted from the shelter of the trees by Count Vesna. There had been a sudden rush of movement and the sudden wash of moonlight illuminating his silver armour had brought him to his senses barely in time to prevent the milling Devoted soldiers being massacred by the gentry. There'd been no time for farewells, only a hurried escape for both parties and a distant look of what Isak suspected was satisfaction from Ehla, the witch of Llehden, as they clattered past her mouldering home.
Isak shook the images from his mind for now and added, 'So let's not waste time. Most of them will be coming from the east, following us. I'll take charge there, and you keep those lancers watching the rest of the perimeter so we're not taken unawares.'
To his surprise, no one objected to Isak commandeering what was roughly half of their troops, but there wasn't time to wonder whether Gort's past assertion of allegiance held true for them all, or if they just recognised that here and now, Isak was the best man to lead the defence.
Isak remounted and headed back towards the soldiers on the perimeter. A slow, distant murmur from the dark streets beyond their positions swelled into the growl of a thousand twisted, enraged creatures, no longer human.
Poor bastards; driven mad and driven to their deaths, Isak thought, picking up his pace a little. But for what? Just so Azaer can demonstrate his power?
When he reached the tight knots of soldiers he saw relief on the faces of Devoted and Farlan alike. By now they would have all heard stories about him, some true, others not, no doubt. Isak could smell their fear rolling off them in great stinking waves, as obvious as the sweat and leather stench of soldiers campaigning in summer heat. But they saw salvation in his unnatural shining image.
Count Vesna, seasoned campaigner that he was, felt the change too and raised his voice to exploit it. 'Now listen, you bastards!' Vesna roared. 'What's coming isn't going to be pretty. It'll scare you shitless when you see them, but you're not going to move an inch, do you hear me?'
Isak could see that a good proportion of the Devoted understood Farlan from those who nodded agreement. More joined in as whisper¬ing voices translated Vesna's words, many looking at Isak, as if for reassurance. He'd known Lord Bahl for long enough to know his place in this performance. Sitting tall and unknowable atop his enormous warhorse, presenting the impassive front of a divinely blessed warrior, Isak slowly and deliberately hefted Eolis and flicked the glittering sword through a few practise sweeps while his friend spoke. Rogue fingers of lightning danced over His unearthly silver armour.