Peacefall: Book Two of The Fourpointe Chronicles

Chapter 24

So much chaos. So suddenly. The thunder of conflict awash in a rain of blood.

Remember your training. You were born to be a royal.

Her father's parting words echoing in her mind, Taresa shook herself from the arrow slit and the scene unfolding below, even as the outcries and explosions clamored for her undivided attention.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Celia. The handmaiden, covered in a shamrock-green cloak, braced herself against the innards of the bartizan, fighting the urge to sink to the floor.

Taresa hurried to her, taking her by the shoulders. As she knelt, she guided Celia to the floor, where she left her.

"Soldier!" Taresa called as she stepped to the tower entryway. Under the arch, a lone warrior – more of a squire than a knight – lowered his crossbow.

"Your Highness!" the young man called. He managed a salute, even while dividing his attention between her and the conflict.

"Take me to your commander," she insisted, ignoring the slight.

"He, he's . . ." The green recruit pointed at the next flanking tower. Only then did Taresa notice his trembling. His quiver empty, three bolts lay strewn about him, no doubt the product of his unsteady hand.

Down the rampart where he gestured, a man – the only one there still moving – struggled to brace himself against a crenel.

Taresa gandered at the line at her feet. The one where sunlight met shadow. She stepped from the darkness –

"My Queen!" Celia cried.

Taresa swung her head around while Celia's fingers clawed into her. As Taresa fell back, the soldier darted before her, blocking her path.

"What are you –" Taresa started.

He pivoted to face her, his eyes wide with anticipation. Behind him, the sky flashed. His back, to the light, curved toward her, unnaturally and suddenly. Taresa gasped as the full weight of the soldier toppled her.

All went black. The chorus of the battle quelled. Everything to the touch vanished.

Taresa blinked.

A weight rolled off of her. She gasped for air.

"Your Majesty! Your Majesty!" Celia exclaimed. She swept her arm under her head.

"I'm, I'm –" What was she?

"You're still here!" Celia cried, embracing her queen.

Taresa, also forgetting all pretense, held her. Another explosion beyond the walls shook them from their moment. Taresa scrambled to her feet along with Celia. She stared down at the fallen soldier. His back bent at a right angle, leaving the man in a grotesque, unnatural position. The blast had also tarnished his plate black and singed his exposed skin.

"My Mar . . ." Celia wept, closing her eyes and placing her hands to her forehead in respect.

Taresa did likewise, though her eyes remained open. Her stare settled on the man's arming sword. And crossbow.

"Did you send your riders?" Taresa yelled.

"What?" asked the commander, his hearing – and consciousness – fading.