A Day of Fallen Night (The Roots of Chaos)
A Day of Fallen Night: Part 4 – Chapter 90

Winter still held in the north. Glorian kept her gaze ahead, as she had every day since they had left Stilharrow, shivering as wind carved through her heavy wools and mail. At last, they had crossed into the Leas, once golden with wheat and orchards. Now her horse scuffed through blackened stubble.

Smoke rose in pillars in the distance. The sky was dim, the sun a glob of melted fat. She might have thought it was snowing, but she knew the difference between snow and ash by now.

All she smelled was death, and death. Inys wore grey, to mourn itself.

‘Glorian.’

Helisent passed her a waterskin. Glorian pulled down her cloth to drink, soaking the scratch from her throat. Florell sat in a pillion behind her, to keep her from taking a fall, and Bourn stayed close, riding beside Marian. The Regency Council had pressed her not to come, preferring she retreat to Offsay – then at least one Berethnet was safe – but she had refused to leave Glorian.

For weeks, the royal party had travelled northward at a cautious pace. Avoiding open fields, they took sunken ways and twittens and drovers’ paths, deer trails that wound like thread beneath trees. When they slept, it was nestled under bridges, in caves or ruins.

For days on end, they met no one, heard no one. No candles or watchfires flickered in the night. When they did see flame, they fled, knowing the smell of wyrm.

Now Lady Gladwin brought them to a copse of oaks, where they found a clear pool. ‘We’ll stop here,’ she called. ‘Fill your skins and water your horses. This may be the last time you can.’

Glorian let Florell help her down. Her belly made her awkward. While the party rested, she ventured into the trees to find a secluded place. Sabran was sitting so hard on her, she was about to burst.

Her ladies stood guard while she unlaced her trousers – no easy thing, when she could see nothing south of her belly – and took off the clout she had taken to wearing. She tensed when she saw the thick yellowish wad on it, marbled with a thread of blood.

Glorian glanced over her shoulder. She had no idea what it was, but if Bourn saw it, they might try to stop her riding any farther. She buried the clout, as if it had never happened.

****

They struck out again, into the first grass they had seen in days, grown thick without livestock or sickles to trim it. Lady Gladwin led them to an ancient barrow, the tomb of an Inyscan princess, no more conspicuous than a hill. Hoping to sleep there, they slipped through its entrance – only to find two families huddled inside, sharing a brace of thin rabbits. Seeing Glorian, they made room in the burial chamber, and the royal party slept among strangers. For the first time in weeks, Glorian almost felt safe, curled inside the mound.

That evening, they set out again, taking the two families with them.

Great swathes of land were still ablaze. Even now, after months of the wyverns’ onslaught, Glorian could not fully accept what she was seeing. None of the devastation looked real.

The sun disappeared. By the glow of their saddle lanterns, they followed Lady Gladwin to a coppice of pines, moving at a brisk canter. Glorian felt a sudden twinge. All she wanted was for Sabran to stay inside, away from the dying world, safe in the snug of her womb.

‘Lady Gladwin,’ she said, swallowing a cough. ‘How are we to approach Hollow Crag?’

‘Under cover of darkness.’ A cloth muffled her reedy voice. ‘We don’t want to draw anything there.’ Seeing Glorian rub her belly, she said, ‘We can rest again, Your Grace.’

‘No.’ Glorian breathed in. ‘Keep the pace, my lady.’

By sunset the next day, they were fording the River Went, which had started to thaw. From there, the horses trotted between hedges, long since overgrown, and at last, they reached an outcrop overlooking Cenning Moor. It rolled towards an isolated rock in the near distance, which knuckled up from the grass and snow, shaped almost like a cockscomb.

Hollow Crag.

Everywhere, people were running towards it.

Prince Guma rode forward, eyebrows beetling. ‘What do those fools think they’re doing?’

‘Saint. They’ll draw attention.’ Lady Marian looked in shock at the councillors. ‘Gladwin—’

A terrible sound made the horses snort. Glorian stiffened. ‘Wyverns,’ Sir Bramel roared, just as a pair of them swept overhead.

‘Ride,’ Lady Gladwin barked at the party. ‘There’s no other shelter. Ride for Hollow Crag!’

All obeyed, the guards closing ranks on either side of Glorian. Florell wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her close, but dread almost throttled her. This choice might yet have killed them all.

The wyverns torched through the survivors. Glorian set her teeth. As their horses galloped across the snow, they overtook the thousands of people making the desperate run to the rock. She looked over her shoulder, smothering a cry when she saw another three wyverns.

‘Don’t look,’ Florell shouted over the wind. ‘Glorian, don’t look. We’re almost there!’

Glorian forced her gaze ahead as they thundered into the shadow of the rock. Its yawning was low down, almost hidden from the sky. As soon as they reached the shelter of its overhang, she was helped in a great rush from her horse. Sabran kicked and kicked within her.

Several gloved hands ushered her into the depths of Hollow Crag. Lady Gladwin marched ahead, past those who were collapsing, out of breath, or sobbing in relief. Even the Queen of Inys could go unnoticed in this crush.

Lord Ordan Beck, the Dowager Earl of Goldenbirch, was ensconced in a warm cave that rang with worried voices. When the guards let his daughter through, he looked up, fear leaping into his dark eyes.

‘Helisent?’

‘Papa.’ She went to him. ‘You’re all right.’

‘You have to go. You can’t be—’ Seeing Glorian and Marian, and then the Regency Council, he croaked, ‘No.’

‘By the Saint’s holy bones.’ Lord Edrick Glenn stared at them all. ‘Lady Protector, what are you doing here?’

‘Before we submit to questioning, I might ask what in Halgalant is happening,’ Marian said, holding on to Glorian. ‘Lord Ordan, I was assured this place was safe. Now I have brought my granddaughter here, I find scores of people in plain sight, and wyverns on the wing.’

‘Madenley came under attack. The survivors fled in a great panic,’ Lord Ordan explained. ‘Hollow Crag is the nearest cave, but in their terror and haste, they were not careful. They have led the entire flock to Cenning Moor.’ His eyes were bloodshot. ‘A few people got away time, but it’s too late for the rest of us. To leave would be to walk into death.’

‘We are trapped here.’

‘Yes. They would surely have seen the entrance by now, and if not, they’ll follow the scent.’

‘Tell me you have not brought the entire Regency Council,’ Lord Edrick said, ashen.

‘All but Lord Randroth, who rode to Offsay,’ Marian said shortly.

Lord Ordan let out a weak laugh. ‘Oh, Saint forbid we’re left with that pompous sack of bluster.’

‘So every member of the House of Berethnet is in here,’ Roland Glenn said, raising an eyebrow. ‘Forgive my crudeness, Lady Protector, but you really did choose a shite place to visit.’

‘Roland,’ Lord Edrick warned.

‘No. We can survive this,’ Glorian said. They all looked at her. ‘The entrance is a chokepoint. It’s low and small, difficult for the wyverns to reach. They will have to send their beasts to force us out, and those beasts have weaknesses. We can defend Hollow Crag.’

‘We’ve hardly any weapons, Your Grace,’ Lord Ordan said.

‘When Verthing Bloodblade marched on Vakróss, he needed to get his forces over the river. There was just one bridge, which my father defended. He alone killed seventy warriors, giving his allies time to prepare – and I am certain we have more than one fighter. It can be done.’

‘With respect, he was fighting his fellow humans, not wyrms.’

Glorian laid a hand on her belly.

‘I am likely to give birth in this place,’ she said. ‘I want my child to have a queendom left to rule. I want her to taste apples still crisp from the orchard. I want her to see the green of Inysh spring; to know the scent of wildflowers, the taste of bread, the sound of laughter. I do not want her life to end at her first breath, her voice strangled away by smoke.’

Several glances were exchanged, doubts and hopes delivered without a single word.

‘The Saint is with us,’ Glorian told them. ‘Let us give these foul things one last cry before the end. Let us give the world a reason to remember us.’

A long silence descended.

‘King Bardholt was a great warrior,’ Prince Guma said, concluding it. ‘I say we lead by his example.’

Glorian thought of his letter, keeping her face blank. Bardholt was a licentious traitor for taking up the False Sword.

‘I agree,’ Lady Gladwin said. ‘We ought to send the strongest fighters on to the moor, to try to thin their forces before sunrise. Once they have enough light, the wyverns will make things harder.’

Lord Ordan seemed to steel himself.

‘Some of those who fled in time promised me they would bring help,’ he said. ‘Paupers’ Henge might yet answer the call – that’s the nearest refuge – but if not, we have arrows, the guards from Madenley and Arondine, and anyone who can lift a blade or sharp tool. We could mount a defence of the entrance, for a time. Perhaps long enough to discourage them.’

‘Those beasts never give up,’ Lord Damud said. ‘Whatever happens next, there will be death.’

‘Forgive me,’ Bourn intervened, ‘but the queen needs somewhere to rest. It was a hard ride from Stilharrow.’

Glorian wanted to gainsay, but she did need to sleep, or she would be more of a danger than a help to the Regency Council. ‘Aye. Follow me, Your Grace,’ Roland said, taking a lantern from the table. Glorian walked after him with Julain and Adela, while her grandmother stayed to confer with the nobles.

‘Master Glenn,’ Glorian said, taking the arm he offered her, ‘have you heard from your brother?’

‘He’s still in Hróth, fighting with King Einlek. So his lithsman tells me.’

‘Thrit or Karlsten?’

‘Thrit. He arrived a few weeks ago.’

That troubled her. Surely Thrit would not have wanted to leave the rest of his lith, or his king.

Roland avoided the large caverns. The newcomers from Madenley were crowding into those, raising a commotion among the thousands of northerners who had been living there peacefully by candlelight for months. He took Glorian past a buttery and a hospital, where sanctarians and healers were tending the sick. Water rushed down a wall, misting them all with spray. There was no sign of the plague, save the smell of vinegar.

A small cave had been made up as a bedchamber. Its pallet was humble, but after weeks on horseback, it was better than a featherbed. Glorian lowered herself on to it, wishing she could sleep at once, but she was filthy.

‘I’ll leave you, Queen Glorian,’ Roland said, ‘but we’ll keep you abreast of the situation.’

‘Thank you, Master Glenn.’

He pulled a drape across the entrance in his wake, giving her a semblance of privacy. ‘What do we do?’ Adela said, wringing her hands. ‘Glorian, are we going to die?’

‘Do not speak of death again, Adela.’ Julain looked hard at her. ‘Find a basin of clean water, please. Glorian can’t sleep like this.’

Glorian just sat on the pallet, too exhausted to answer. Julain tried to get the ash from her hair.

Outside, the wyverns must be mustering.

Bourn soon came to see her. ‘Your Grace, if I may, I would like to ensure your wellbeing before you sleep,’ they said. ‘It was a hard ride.’

‘Of course,’ Glorian said. ‘Julain, Adela, you should try to find something to eat. Be careful, please. There may be a crush.’

Once they were gone, she rolled up her layers and beckoned Bourn, who knelt in front of her. They placed their cool, smooth palms on her belly.

‘On the road,’ they said, ‘did you notice any pain or bleeding, or other changes?’

‘Something like . . . what you cough up with the throttle.’

‘The unsealing of the womb.’ Bourn looked grim. ‘Your time draws near, Queen Glorian.’

‘Then I will have my daughter here.’

‘I fear so.’

Bourn pressed their fingers to her wrist. ‘We can hold the entrance. Just like my father,’ Glorian said. Bourn nodded slowly. ‘Is all well, with the child?’

‘As far as I can tell.’

Glorian glanced at her belly, swallowing.

‘Mastress Bourn,’ she said in a whisper, ‘I know that birth can go awry. If my daughter and I are both in distress, you know you are bound to choose her over me. I cannot make another child.’

‘I was told.’ A twinge of sorrow crossed their face. ‘I should not say this, Queen Glorian.’

‘Please.’

‘I grieve for you, that you should have to do this. I also grieve for Carmentum. They found a different way. Any order of succession that demands a child bear a child . . . I find it hard to stomach.’ Their jaw ground like a mill. ‘I know that it keeps the Nameless One fettered. I only wish the Saint had not made this the price of his protection.’

Her father would have punished this. It was blasphemy, a lack of faith. Glorian searched herself for anger, and found none.

‘Thank you, Kell,’ she said. ‘For your honesty.’ She covered their hand. ‘Will you help me?’

Her voice shook a little. Bourn grasped her hand in return.

‘I will.’

Glorian let them go and turned on to her side, unable to stay awake. In the distance, she heard the seeds of realisation in the other caves, bursting into cries of fear. Just before she slipped into the darkness, she reached for her sister, and in that moment, she was almost at peace.

****

When she woke, it took some time to remember where she was. Once she did, she wished she could forget again.

‘. . . has the baby here, what will we do then?’

‘Hollow Crag will keep us safe,’ Helisent said under her breath. ‘Glorian is right. With that small entrance, it could work.’

‘Not once the wyverns can see,’ Julain told her. ‘Our fighters are hungry, weak, and poorly armed. Half of them are not even soldiers. Others are drained from the fight at Madenley. You know this as well as I do.’ Fear clipped her voice. ‘We should have gone to Selverpit.’

‘Too late now, Jules. The milk is spilled.’

‘Is there no chance we can slip away with her, while it’s still dark?’

‘I fear to try. What if she goes into labour?’

Julain made a low, strangled sound. ‘Either way is death, unless our fighters hold the line.’

Glorian felt a rippling cramp. Eyes closed, she waited, willing it to pass. Not now. She pressed her eyes tighter. Not yet, Sabran. It’s not safe.

As if the child had heard, her womb quietened. She propped herself on her arm.

‘What is happening?’

Helisent and Julain both started. ‘Lord Ordan has mustered the defence,’ Julain said. Ash still smudged her face, and her braid was windswept. ‘You should not think of it, Glorian.’

‘I must.’ Glorian sat up, her belly heavy in her lap. ‘What time is it?’

‘It’s just turned dark. The wyverns won’t see much for tonight,’ Helisent said, ‘but their creatures have followed the scent from Madenley. They will be here before the hour is up.’

‘How many?’

Helisent swallowed. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Tell me, Helisent.’

‘Hundreds of creatures attacked Madenley.’ Julain was hoarse. ‘Some witnesses think it was far more, according to Roland Glenn.’

‘How many do we have?’

‘My father anticipates a force of a thousand or so – that’s if Paupers’ Henge doesn’t answer the call,’ Helisent said. ‘He will position most of them beyond the entrance, and the rest just inside, to finish any beasts that succeed in breaking through the vanguard.’

A thousand Inysh fighters against the offspring of the Dreadmount. Once the wyverns had daylight, her forces would have to pull back to Hollow Crag, or they would be burned alive.

‘Saint be with us,’ Glorian whispered.

‘Your Grace.’ Roland knocked on the wall. He seemed to have been given the role of royal caretaker. ‘I promised Kell Bourn you’d eat, before I ride out to defend the entrance.’

‘You mean to fight, Roland?’

‘Aye, I can use a sword well enough. Not as well as my brother, alas, or I might stand a better chance of surviving.’

He took her to a nearby chamber. Glorian was slow and breathless, listening to the din in the dark.

She found a table piled with a feast she would never have thought possible for one person in a time of famine: salted meats and cheese, fresh salmon, and a hot stew of rabbit, shank mushrooms and garlic. There was even bread. It was more food than she had seen since Offsay, a sanctuary on the coast, where there had been fish and scallops aplenty.

‘I presume the people do not eat so well,’ she said.

Roland shook his head. ‘Every three days, if that. A group of scavengers slips out to bolster our stores with pignuts, weasels and hares, and so on. They’ve had it far worse farther north, where the frost is thicker. I heard the people of Calthorn had turned to eating one another by the time it fell.’ Seeing her stricken face, he said, ‘Likely just a rumour.’

‘Do they blame me?’

‘They know you’re growing our protection.’ He glanced at her belly. ‘Most blame each other, for their sins. I’m just glad Wulf is far away, or they’d have pointed the finger by now.’

‘Yes,’ Glorian said. Sabran gave a tiny kick. ‘How many people are with child in these caves?’

‘Twenty, I think, at last count.’

‘Are there any who are in the last days, as I am?’

‘I’ve seen a couple who look as if they could burst any day. Begging your pardon, Your Grace,’ he added, running a hand through his hair. ‘I’ve lost my manners in this hole.’

‘I would like them to share in this food. Would you invite them here?’

Roland eyed her, curious. ‘We’ve not much food left, and we can’t gather more now.’

‘Bring them.’

It took him some time to find the nine women, in the darkness of the caverns, among the sixteen thousand people who now filled Hollow Crag. One of them had swelled so big that she waddled – twins, perhaps. They were all older than Glorian, one with grey in her hair.

‘Your Grace,’ they all said.

‘Good evening.’ Glorian found a smile for them. ‘You are all great with child, as I am. My councillors believe my body should be well-nourished. It stands to reason that yours should be as well.’ She motioned to the bench on the other side of the table. ‘Please, eat with me.’

The women were silent. She could see the craving in their dull eyes, their hollow cheeks.

‘Queen Glorian,’ the eldest of them murmured, ‘you are so generous, to invite us to your table.’ She lifted her chin. ‘But for myself, I’ll not take one scrap of food from the heir.’

The woman with the largest belly licked her lips, glancing at the others. ‘Neither will we, Your Grace,’ she said, after a hesitation. Her voice cracked as she spoke, the desperation clear.

One by one, they curtseyed, turned away from the feast, and left Glorian alone. Her belly gave a pang. Through a blur, she stared up at the ceiling.

Is this what you wanted? As she wept for the first time in weeks, she willed the words to Halgalant. Is this what you wanted your kingdom to be?

****

She slept with one arm over her belly, curled like the cup of an acorn around it. A hand on her shoulder drew her awake.

‘Glorian,’ Julain said, ‘it’s started.’

The words took a moment to sink in. Clumsy with sleep, Glorian pushed herself upright. ‘I want to see the Regency Council.’ She breathed deep, grasping her belly. ‘Let me—’

As she stood, she felt it: a tiny break in the vaults of her body, and then an uncontainable surge between her legs, and water puddled at her feet. She stared at it, then at Julain.

Bourn had told her this would happen. It would happen when Sabran was ready to come.

‘Oh.’ Adela had turned very pale. ‘Oh, no—’

‘Get Mastress Bourn, now. Tell the Lady Protector,’ Helisent said to her. ‘Hurry, Adela!’

Adela rushed away. Helisent guided Glorian back to the bed, and Julain held her by the shoulders. ‘It seems my battle will be here,’ Glorian said, through gritted teeth. ‘So be it.’

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