The Complete Riftwar Saga Trilogy: Magician, Silverthorn, A Darkness at Sethanon. Raymond E. Feist

spun around, seeing the worried faces of Crydee’s soldiers nearby, and said, ‘As before. Defend the wall.’

      The fighting went hard. A half-dozen times Arutha found himself dueling with Tsurani warriors who topped the wall. Then, after a timeless battling, the Tsurani withdrew.

      Arutha stood panting, his clothing drenched with perspiration beneath his chest armor. He shouted for water, and a castle porter arrived with a bucket. He drank, as did the others around, and turned to watch the Tsurani host.

      Again they stood just beyond catapult range, and their torchlights seemed undiminished. ‘Prince Arutha,’ came a voice behind. He spun around. Horsemaster Algon was standing before him. ‘I just heard of Fannon’s wound.’

      Arutha said, ‘How is he?’

      ‘A close thing. The wound is serious, but not yet fatal. Tully thinks should he live another day, he will recover. But he will not be able to command for weeks, perhaps longer.’

      Arutha knew Algon was waiting for a decision from him. The Prince was Knight-Captain of the King’s army and, without Fannon, the commander of the garrison. He was also untried and could turn over command to the Horsemaster. Arutha looked around. ‘Where is Gardan?’

      ‘Here, Highness,’ came a shout from a short way down the wall. Arutha was surprised at the sergeant’s appearance. His dark skin was nearly grey from the dust that stuck to it, held fast by the sheen of perspiration. His tunic and tabard were soaked with blood, which also covered his arms to the elbows.

      Arutha looked down at his own hands and arms and found them likewise covered. He shouted, ‘More water!’ and said to Algon, ‘Gardan will act as my second commander. Should anything happen to me, he will take command of the garrison. Gardan is acting Swordmaster.’

      Algon hesitated as if about to say something, then a look of relief crossed his face. ‘Yes, Highness. Orders?’

      Arutha looked back toward the Tsurani lines, then to the east. The first light of the false dawn was coming, and the sun would rise over the mountains in less than two hours. He seemed to weigh facts for a time, as he washed away the blood on his arms and face. Finally he said, ‘Get Longbow.’

      The Huntmaster was called for and arrived a few minutes later, followed by Amos Trask, who wore a wide grin. ‘Damn me, but they can fight,’ said the seaman.

      Arutha ignored the comment. ‘It is clear to me they plan to keep constant pressure upon us. With as little regard as they show for their own lives, they can wear us down in a few weeks. This is one thing we didn’t count upon, this willingness of their men to go to certain death. I want the north, south, and east walls stripped. Leave enough men to keep watch, and hold any attackers until reinforcements can arrive. Bring the men from the other walls here, and order those here to stand down. I want six-hour watches rotated throughout the rest of the day. Martin, has there been any more word of Dark Brother migration?’

      Longbow shrugged. ‘We’ve been a little busy, Highness. My men have all been in the north woods the last few weeks.’

      Arutha said, ‘Could you slip a few trackers over the walls before first light?’

      Longbow considered. ‘If they leave at once, and if the Tsurani aren’t watching the east wall too closely, yes.’

      ‘Do so. The Dark Brothers aren’t foolish enough to attack this force, but if you could find a few bands the size of the one you spotted three days ago and repeat your trap . . .’

      Martin grinned. ‘I’ll lead them out myself. We’d best leave now, before it gets much lighter.’ Arutha dismissed him, and Martin ran down the stairs. ‘Garret!’ he shouted. ‘Come on, lad. We’re off for some fun.’ A groan could be heard by those on the wall as Martin gathered his trackers around him.

      Arutha said to Gardan, ‘I want messages sent to Carse and Tulan. Use five pigeons for each. Order Barons Bellamy and Tolburt to strip their garrisons and take ship for Crydee at once.’

      Gardan said, ‘Highness, that will leave those garrisons nearly undefended.’

      Algon joined in the objection. ‘If the Dark Brotherhood moves toward the Northlands, the Tsurani will have an open path to the southern keeps next year.’

      Arutha said, ‘If the Dark Brothers are moving en masse, which they may not be, and if the Tsurani learn they have abandoned the Green Heart, which they may not. I am concerned by this known threat, not a possible one next year. If they keep this constant pressure upon us, how long can we withstand?’

      Gardan said, ‘A few weeks, perhaps a month. No longer.’

      Arutha once more studied the Tsurani camp. ‘They boldly pitch their tents near the edge of town. They range through our forests, building ladders and siege engines no doubt. They know we cannot sally forth in strength. But with eighteen hundred fresh soldiers from the southern keeps attacking up the coast road from the beaches and the garrison sallying forth, we can rout them from Crydee. Once the siege is broken, they will have to withdraw to their eastern enclaves. We can harry them continuously with horsemen, keep them from regrouping. Then we can return those forces to the southern keeps, and they’ll be ready for any Tsurani attacks against Carse or Tulan next spring.’

      Gardan said, ‘A bold enough plan, Highness.’ He saluted and left the wall, followed by Algon.

      Amos Trask said, ‘Your commanders are cautious men, Highness.’

      Arutha said, ‘You agree with my plan?’

      ‘Should Crydee fall, what matters when Carse or Tulan falls? If not this year, then next for certain. It might as well be in one fight as two or three. As the sergeant said, it is a bold plan. Still, a ship was never taken without getting close enough to board. You have the makings of a fine corsair should you ever grow tired of being a Prince, Highness.’

      Arutha regarded Amos Trask with a skeptical smile. ‘Corsair, is it? I thought you claimed to be an honest trader.’

      Amos looked slightly discomposed. Then he broke out in a hearty laugh. ‘I only said I had a cargo for Crydee, Highness. I never said how I came by it.’

      ‘Well, we have no time for your piratical past now.’

      Amos looked stung. ‘No pirate, Sire. The Sidonie was carrying letters of marque from Great Kesh, given by the governor of Durbin.’

      Arutha laughed. ‘Of course! And everyone knows there is no finer, more law-abiding group upon the high seas than the captains of the Durbin coast.’

      Amos shrugged. ‘They tend to be a crusty lot, it’s true. And they sometimes make free with the concept of free passage on the high seas, but we prefer the term privateer.’

      Horns blew and drums beat, and with shrieking war cries the Tsurani came. The defenders waited, then as the attacking host crossed the invisible line marking the outer range of the castle’s war engines, death rained down upon the Tsurani. Still they came.

      The Tsurani crossed the second invisible line marking the outer range of the castle’s bowmen, and scores more died. Still they came.

      The attackers reached the walls, and defenders dropped stones and pushed over scaling ladders, dealing out death to those below. Still they came.

      Arutha quickly ordered a redeployment of his reserves, directing them to be ready near the points of heaviest attack. Men hurried to carry out his orders.

      Standing atop the west wall, in the thick of the fight, Arutha answered attack with attack, repulsing warrior after warrior as they reached the top of the wall. Even in the midst of battle, Arutha was aware of the scene around him, shouting orders, hearing replies, catching glimpses of what others were doing. He saw Amos Trask, disarmed, strike a Tsurani full in the face with his fist, knocking the man from the wall. Trask then carefully bent down and picked up his cutlass as if he had simply dropped it while strolling along the wall. Gardan moved among the men, exhorting the defenders, bolstering sagging spirits, and driving the men