Redemption (Book 6) (36 page)

Kara collapsed back against the wall. She slid down to a sitting position. Her body shook uncontrollably. “Oh, Eru, it’s all my fault. I should never have come here, I—”

“
Kara
,” said Joseph sharply. “Snap out of it. I need hot water, fast. Help me or he’ll die.”

A horn sounded outside.

Beckett straightened. “That’s the warning signal. If—”

A gunshot sounded, then another and another.

Olan’s face tightened. “The
Jombards
. They’re attacking Redemption.”

Captain Markus fired his carbine. The weapon thundered in his ears, belching out smoke and fire.

A Jombard lurched back on the ground below. He fell into the mud of the street and didn’t move.

Not that it mattered. A large group of Jombards were coming right at the eastern gate.

Coming at it from
inside
the town.

“Shoot them!” Markus yelled. He slapped the shoulder of the dragoon next to him, pointing down at the charging Jombards. “Stop them before they get to the—”

A roar of voices came from behind Markus.

He spun, already reaching for another carbine cartridge.

The line of Jombards outside Redemption was moving forward, charging directly at the palisade wall. They were screaming, chanting, hungry for blood. Many held makeshift ladders and crude battering rams.

The dragoons on the wall shot their carbines off, some at the Jombards below in the town and some at the Jombards charging the wall from outside.

Captain Markus moved to the stairs that led down from the rampart. He reloaded his carbine, ramming down the shot and paper.

A thundering boom sounded from further along the wall as a cannon fired off.

Screams erupted from the charging Jombards, intermixed with gibbering cries, howls, and wailing shouts.

It didn’t matter. None of it mattered. If the Jombards inside the town got the gate open, then everything was lost.

“With me!” Markus yelled at a group of stunned dragoons on top of the ramparts. He scurried down the stairs, not looking to see if the men were following him or not.

The Jombards were coming straight for the gate. At their head was a mountain of a man, a Jombard chieftain with a battleaxe and a vial hanging around his neck.

Captain Markus hit the ground and fired his carbine from the hip.

The nearest Jombard was knocked back by the force of the bullet. He slammed into the side of a fur trader store.

Markus threw down his carbine and drew his sword.

The Jombards surged forward with howls and screams.

From outside the palisade wall came the sound of whizzing arrows and skirling pipes. And above it all was the chanting of the barbarians, intermixed with the gunfire of the dragoons and militiamen.

A dozen men, mixed dragoons and militiamen, piled down off the stairs right behind Markus.

“Hold the gate!” Markus yelled. He rushed forward to meet the first oncoming Jombard.

The barbarian yelped a whooping war cry. He held a two-handed club with spikes driven into the wood.

Markus ducked under the powerful but clumsy swing of the Jombard warrior, then cut hard with his own sword.

The Jombard screamed and stumbled back, blood exploding from a savage cut across his chest.

And then it was a confusing mix of gunfire, bodies locked in mortal combat, and splattering mud.

“I’ve got a fire started in the kitchen,” Kara said as she rushed back into the room. “A pot of water’s set to—” She looked away quickly as she saw that Callen and Joseph were actually removing the bullet from Kendril’s pale body.

More gunfire erupted from outside, banging away in a steady patter. A cannon boomed again.

“They’re attacking the wall,” said Beckett anxiously. He glanced at the door to the town hall. “Markus will need help.”

“The Jombards are not the danger,” Yvonne hissed. She sat crumpled against the wall. “It’s
her
, fool. She will bring Indigoru.” She looked over at Olan. “You know that I’m right, Olan. You know the rules of our Order. She must be dest—”

“Didn’t I tell you before to shut up?” Beckett growled.

“We’ll save arguments over Kara’s fate for another time,” Olan said with a scowl. “Right now there are more important things to worry about.” He glanced down at Kendril’s unmoving form. “If Kendril was telling the truth, and the Jombard commander has a Soulbinder, then he’s the priority.”

“Oh,” said Kara as she crossed her arms, “so you’re not going to kill me now, but you’re
probably
going to kill me later? That’s very comforting.”

“Close him up,” Joseph said to Callen. He dropped a misshapen, bloody lead bullet onto the floor.

Callen began swiftly sewing up the open wound.

Kendril’s breath was shallow, almost non-existent. He was as pale as death.

Joseph began to mop the blood from around the wound with a cloth. “I have herbs that will help. The greenish vial there.”

“I know greenpeal paste when I see it,” Callen grunted.

Joseph glanced back at Kara. “We’ll need that hot water as soon as we can get it.”

Kara nodded. “It will be a couple minutes before—”

Another horn blast sounded from outside.

Olan drew his sword. “All right, we’re through waiting. Renaald, you’re with me. Callen, I need you too. There will be wounded.”

“Thirty seconds,” Callen said between his teeth. He kept stitching.

“What about me?” Tomas asked.

Olan paused for a moment. “I need you to stay here and...
protect
Yvonne.”

“
Guard
me, you mean,” Yvonne spat. “You’ll answer for this when we return to Rothland, Olan. I won’t—”

“I should remind you,” Olan said coldly, “that Sword has command authority in situations that involve open conflict, even over Staff prerogatives.”

Another rattling of gunfire sounded through the walls.

“And I would call this open conflict,” Olan finished. He looked up at Renaald. “And I don’t need to remind you, Renaald, that I expect you to obey my every command without hesitation.”

Renaald rubbed his bruised nose. “Yes, sir.”

Kara came back into the room, carrying a pot of steaming water. “It hasn’t boiled yet, but—”

“It will have to do.” Joseph took the top off and dumped a small bag of herbs into the pot. A sweet, heady scent instantly filled the room.

Callen stepped back, rubbing an arm across his forehead. “Done.” He reached for the rag.

Olan gave Kendril a disinterested glance. “Will he live?”

Joseph mixed the herbs into the water. “I don’t know. He’s lost a lot of blood, and there’s no real way to tell how much internal damage was done.”

Olan sniffed. “Be easier if he died, I suspect. He’s still a traitor in the eyes of the Order.” He strode towards the door and opened it, magnifying the sounds of fighting. “Renaald, Callen, you’re with me.”

“Me too,” said Beckett. He lifted his sword and glanced back one more time at Kendril. “My sword’s feeling a little hungry for Jombard blood.”

They rushed out the door, tromping down the front steps of the town hall.

Kara looked after them. She bit her lip hard, then unslung her bow.

Joseph glanced up from where he was treating Kendril’s wound. “Kara, don’t.”

Kara readied the bow. “I can help them.”

“You’re wounded,” Joseph said.

Kara reached for an arrow and fitted it to the string of her bow. “I can shoot. It hurts, but I can do it.”

Joseph got quickly to his feet. “I...need your help here, Kara. With Kendril—”

“You have Tomas,” Kara said quickly. “Besides, you’ve stabilized him. There’s not much else you or I can do.”

Joseph stopped.

Tomas shrugged. “She’s got a point, mate.”

Joseph glared at the Ghostwalker. “No one asked you.”

“Joseph,” said Kara softly. She put a hand on his arm. “I can do this. I
have
to do this.”

Joseph turned his head away. “I—I lost you once already, and I can’t—”

“I know,” said Kara. She squeezed his arm.

Joseph took a breath. He looked up. “Go.”

Kara raced for the door and disappeared outside.

Yvonne gave a coughing laugh. “It doesn’t matter anyway,” she gasped.

Tomas and Joseph both looked down at the wounded Ghostwalker.

“We’re all dead already,” she sighed, closing her eyes. “You just don’t realize it yet.”

Joseph soaked one of the bandages in the herbal mixture. “You still think the Seteru are coming to Redemption?”

“No,” said Yvonne, her eyes still closed. “Can’t you feel it? They’re already here.”

Chapter 21

Captain Markus drew his wheelock pistol and fired it at the closest Jombard.

The point blank shot knocked the barbarian flat on his back. He skidded in the mud and didn’t get back up.

The air was thick with gun smoke and the sounds of fighting and dying men. The roar of the attacking Jombards on the other side of the wall was almost deafening. What was worse, it was drawing away the attention of far too many of the dragoons and militiamen from the crucial action going on before the gate.

If the Jombards got the gate open, it was all over.

Markus wheeled and chopped savagely with his sword. He deflected a blow from an iron sword, then jabbed through the smoke at the fleeing form of a Jombard. He was out of breath, his body aching from the strain of combat and action.

Bodies already littered the muddy street in front of the eastern gate. The action was intense, claiming the lives of both sides.

But the gate was still closed.

Markus turned. He wiped sweat away from his forehead, only to realize that it was blood. Somehow, his forehead was had been cut. He couldn’t even recall how. He looked back behind him.

The numbers of dragoons and militiamen behind him were quickly diminishing. The Jombards seemed to sense their advantage, and pressed harder towards the gate.

“Hold!” Markus yelled. His throat itched and burned from the hanging gunpowder. “Hold the gate!”

The Jombard chieftain emerged from the drifting pall of smoke. He smiled at Markus and lifted his battleaxe.

Markus steadied his feet in the mud, and lifted his sword. Regnuthu could take his soul if he let that Jombard anywhere near the gate.

More Jombards emerged from behind nearby buildings, whooping and howling as they ran.

Markus’ heart sank. These Jombards had to be coming from
somewhere
. A side entrance or postern door in another section of the wall had been breached. It was the only possible explanation.

That meant that the town was already compromised. The Jombards were trickling in through whatever entrance they had gained. If they got the gate open, they would pour in like a flood.

Markus hadn’t asked to be posted to this forsaken bit of land on the edge of the known world. But by Eru, if he was going to die here he was going to make the most of it.

“Come on,” Markus yelled at the Jombard chieftain. “You want that gate? You’ll have to go through me first.”

The Jombard chieftain merely smiled. He reached for a vial that hung around his neck by a leather cord.

“General?” The militiaman banged up the steps of the town hall, breathless from running. He peered inside the open front door. “Lord Ravenbrook, the Colonel—” He stopped cold as soon as he saw Kendril lying motionless and bandaged on the ground.

Joseph shook water off his hands and dried them on a towel. “Out with it, man. What’s the situation out there?”

The militiaman, a young man barely out of his teens, still stared wide-eyed at Kendril. “It’s—it’s bad, sir. The Jombards have gotten into the town somehow. They’re scattering about and causing havoc—” The militiaman glanced up at Joseph, then over at Tomas. “Who—who are you gentlemen?”

Joseph threw the towel onto the nearby desk. “Friends of Lord Ravenbrook. How many ships are left in the harbor?”

The militiaman gave a helpless shrug. “I’m—I’m not sure, sir. Most left with the morning tide. There’s a few left, one big grain ship from Arbela and a few smaller fishing boats.”

“All right, listen to me.” Joseph moved out from around Kendril’s motionless form. “Ken—I mean
Lord Ravenbrook
has been badly injured. Shot. We need to get him down to the harbor and get him on a ship. Can you get someone to help us?”

The militiaman stared at Kendril again, as if mesmerized. “I—I can try to round up someone.”

“Good.” Joseph grabbed his greatcoat and pulled it on. “Do it fast. We’ll need a cart or wagon or something.”

The militiaman nodded eagerly. “They’re using stretchers to take the wounded down to the harbor from the brewery.”

“That will do. Get a stretcher.” Joseph glared at the young man. “And hurry.”

The militiaman saluted and scurried off into the street.

Tomas glanced over at Joseph. “Do you think it’s wise to move him in his condition?”

Joseph picked up his rapier and buckled it on. “We don’t have a choice.” He looked up at Tomas. “One way or another, the Jombards are coming.”

Odgar lifted the vial of the Great Fang’s blood and smiled.

Markus braced his feet, his sword clutched in both hands. He had a sinking feeling he knew what was going to happen next.

Odgar threw back the vial to drink down its contents.

His head exploded.

Markus stared in surprise as the barbarian chieftain topped over to the side, a messy stump where his head had once been.

“Guard the gate!” came a booming voice to the right. “Secure it, you dogs! Don’t let the howlers get near.”

Surprised, Captain Markus looked to the side.

Colonel Root dashed over, a smoking pistol in one hand and a bared blade in the other. He hacked and cursed at a Jombard warrior in his path.

Behind Root were about a dozen militiamen, some armed only with halberds, half-pikes, even axes and rakes. They gave a cheering yell and crashed into the reeling Jombards by the eastern gate.

Markus turned his face back to the enemy, his confidence surging once again. “Push them back, lads!” He rushed toward the nearest Jombard and cut him down.