CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

"I don't like it, but I don't see another option." Soterius said, leaning back in his chair.

"I agree." Senne crossed his arms. "Fm worried about sending men down into the caves. It could be a trap. Even if it isn't—there won't be much room to maneuver."

"There are men in my battalion who are miners. Caves are roomy compared to what they're used to." Tarq replied. "They've volunteered to be part of the advance troops, and I've sent a dozen of the best, plus my second in command, to go with Soterius. If we time it right, all of Curane's attention should be focused on the assault against Fochlanimar." He glanced sideways at Senne. "You do have your siege machines functional again—don't you?"

Senne's mouth pulled into a tight line. "They're quite functional. We're making a two-part strike this time. During the night, we'll send the vayash moru against the guards again. Tabok said the tunnels were spelled against vayash moru, so they couldn't help Soterius. We'll also put them around the battering ram throughout the night. Ashtenerath or corpses won't bother them. Neither will more of the 'dark sendings.' Come dawn, we'll replace them with regular soldiers—after we've softened things up a bit."

"Latt and Fallon assured me that they've already sent ill humors to cause dysentery among Curane's troops," Tris replied. "Unpleasant, but effective. It should reduce Curane's forces and slow down their response." He took a sip of brandy. "The ghosts came to me last night. They have a plan. They'll make another attack from inside, timed to support Soterius. That'll give Latt the chance to break the spells on the tower protecting the girl and her baby and let Soterius and his strike force through."

Tris's head hurt from an afternoon spent with the mages. It had taken a week after the last battle for Tris and the other mages to regain enough strength to hold their own in a fight. Gauging from Curane's silence, Tris doubted their foe's mages were in any better shape. The Flow, which had been dangerously unpredictable before, was now even less stable. If Curane's forces don't kill us, our own magic might, Tris thought.

"Between the frontal assault and the tre-buchets on the flanks, Curane won't notice us until it's too late." Soterius said. "The tunnels come up right below the keep. If we can capture the girl and her baby, Curane has no choice but to surrender."

Tabok's ghost stood behind Soterius. "Unfortunately, after the last attack, Curane's mages have spelled their war room. I can't get in. I think they suspect that the ghosts are spying for you. They've been careful not to discuss anything outside of the war room. But from what I do see, he's confident. He's got something planned, something big." He sighed. "But I have some good news. The ghosts from the crypts beneath the city terrorized enough of Curane's men that their commanders had to threaten them with scourgings to get them back to their posts." He gave a cruel smile. "There, at least, we succeeded."

"His blood mages are making amulets to dispel ghosts and hold off the vayash moru. Most are worthless trinkets. But some do carry power. He's armed his key battalions with those charms, the ones manning the gates and the upper walks. His mages are showing the strain. The more desperate his mages become, the worse the lot of the villagers trapped in the walled city. There's plague down in the ginnels. Curane ordered a quarter of the city walled off to contain it. Others say his mages caused it, to spread it to your troops and kill with fever what his arrows can't reach." Tabok looked to Tris. "Curane won't accept defeat. He's not going to give in so long as there's a man with breath to hold a sword. I'm afraid that the only way to defeat him is to destroy every living thing inside that holding."

"Can your land mage do something about the weather? If it stays this cold, we'll be lucky not to freeze in our beds." Palinn drew his cloak tighter around him despite the fire that blazed in the metal stove in the center of the tent. Outside, strong winds whipped the canvas of the tent and howled down the open spaces between the encampments.

"If she could, she would," Tris said. "There's worse weather coming—that's why we didn't want to put off the strike any longer. Snow and high winds. If this doesn't work, it could be a while before we have the opening for another strike—and it's a fool's bet on whether our side or theirs will be more miserable waiting it out."

"We'll have pairs of mages with two of the attacking forces," Tris said. "Fallon and I will cover the front. Beryal will back up Ana on the left flank—she's not completely recovered from the last attack. Vira will handle the right flank. Latt will go with the strike force. That splits us up so that the enemy can't get in a lucky shot and wipe us all out." Tris looked at Soterius.

"Get your forces into position. We'll move at second bells. They may not be expecting an attack in the middle of the night."

"We'll leave at dusk and be in position by the time you're ready."

Esme slipped inside the tent as Soterius and the generals headed for their troops. "A word with you, your majesty?" "What is it?"

"There's a fever started among the men," Esme reported. "Only a few cases so far, but it's nothing I've seen before. One of the men was fine in the morning and dead by nightfall. He was coughing up blood. We've tried to keep the sick men from going back to their battalions, but with an attack coming up, they don't want to miss the fight. I'm worried. If this attack doesn't break Curane, if we're stuck here for weeks or months, the fever could get ugly. Worse, if we take it home with us to the city." "Keep me informed. And if we didn't already have all the reasons in the world to win tonight, we've got one more now."

Soterius braced himself against the bitter wind. "I'm so happy we decided to do this before the weather got bad," he muttered. A light snow was falling, and by the look of the heavy clouds, more would fall by morning. Behind them, the sound of battle echoed in the night. A sea of torches lit the way for the army as it made its attack on Lochlanimar.

"They should be in place by now," Pryce, Tarq's second-in-command, said.

"Let's move."

The soldiers pressed through the snow. It was almost as deep as a man's knees, and Soterius knew it wouldn't be any easier on the return journey. He had sent two scouts on ahead, and their tracks were already covered by the snow. The two dozen soldiers trekked in silence. Only a half moon lit their way. When it clouded over, Latt magicked a dim blue magelight, just enough to keep them from blundering in the dark.

Ahead of them loomed the foothills, and the entrance to the tunnels. They had walked for more than a candlemark, but the torch fire of battle still glowed on the horizon. Even at this distance, they could hear the distant thud of the battering ram.

"There it is," Soterius said, pointing to the cleft in the foothills that matched Tabok's description. He surveyed the terrain. "Now where the hell is the signal?"

A lantern blinked twice.

The scouts met them on a rocky hillside. "Where's the cave entrance?" Soterius asked.

One of the scouts pointed to the ground a few paces away. What Soterius first took for a shadow was really a deep hole. "We explored as much as we dared. The path isn't so bad at first, but then it slopes down. It'll be tricky."

Soterius nodded. "Tabok didn't think we'd need them, but we've got ropes and harnesses, just in case. I'd feel better if he and a few of his ghosts were around to lead the way."

Latt stepped closer to the cave entrance. She raised her hands, palms out, and closed her eyes for a moment. "Tabok's right. I can sense magic down there. My guess is that someone's placed runes to ward away the vayash moru— and the ghosts, too. I'd better be in the front—just in case they left us any other nasty surprises."