A Memory of Light

Palace gates. I apologize for taking so long to reach you—we didn’t realize, at first, what had drawn them in this direction.
    Light. The Palace still stands?”
    “Yes,” Guybon said. “We’re full of refugees, though.”
    “What of channelers?” Talmanes asked, hopeful. “Why haven’t the Andoran armies returned with the Queen?”
    “Darkfriends.” Guybon frowned. “Her Majesty took most of the Kinswomen with her, the strongest ones at least. She left four with enough power to make a gateway together, but—the attack—an assassin killed two of them before the other two could stop him. Alone, the two aren’t strong enough to send for help. They’re using their strength to Heal.”
    “Blood and bloody ashes,” Talmanes said, though he felt a stab of hope as he said it. Perhaps these women could not make a gateway, but they might be able to Heal his wound. “You should lead the refugees out of the city, Guybon. My men hold the southern gate.”
    “Excellent,” Guybon said, straightening. “But you will have to lead the refugees. I must defend the Palace.”
    Talmanes raised an eyebrow at him; he didn’t take orders from Guybon. The Band had its own command structure, and reported only to the Queen. Mat had made that clear when accepting the contract.
    Unfortunately, Guybon didn’t take orders from Talmanes, either. Talmanes took a deep breath, but then wavered, dizzy. Melten grabbed his arm to keep him from toppling over.
    Light, but it hurt. Couldn’t his side just do the decent thing and grow numb? Blood and bloody ashes. He needed to get to those Kinswomen. Talmanes said hopefully, “Those two women who can Heal?”
    “I have sent for them already,” Guybon said. “As soon as we saw this force here.”
    Well, that was something.
    “I do mean to stay here,” Guybon warned. “I wont abandon this post.
    Why? The city is lost, man!”
    “The Queen ordered us to send regular reports through gateways,” Guybon said. “Eventually, she’s going to wonder why we haven’t sent a messenger. She will send a channeler to see why we haven’t reported, and that messenger will arrive at the Palace’s Traveling ground. It—”
    “My Lord!” a voice called. “My Lord Talmanes!”
    Guybon cut off, and Talmanes turned to find Filger—one of the scouts—scrambling up the bloodied cobbles of the hillside toward him. Filger was a lean man with thinning hair and a couple of days’ worth of scruff, and the sight of him filled Talmanes with dread. Filger was one of those they’d left guarding the city gate below.
    “My Lord,” Filger said, panting, “the Trollocs have taken the city walls. They’re packing the ramparts, loosing arrows or spears at anyone who draws too close. Lieutenant Sandip sent me to bring you word.”
    “Blood and ashes! What of the gate?”
    “We’re holding,” Filger said. “For now.”
    “Guybon,” Talmanes said, turning back. “Show some mercy, man; someone needs to defend that gate. Please, take the refugees out and reinforce my men. That gate will be our only method of retreat from the city.”
    “But the Queen’s messenger—”
    “The Queen will figure out what bloody happened once she thinks to look here. Look about you! Trying to defend the Palace is madness. You don’t have a city any longer, but a pyre.”
    Guybon’s face was conflicted, his lips a tight line.
    “You know I’m right,” Talmanes said, his face twisted in pain. “The best thing you can do is reinforce my men at the southern gate to hold it open for as many refugees as can reach it.”
    “Perhaps,” Guybon said. “But to let the Palace burn?”
    “You can make it worth something,” Talmanes said. “What if you left some soldiers to fight at the Palace? Have them hold off the Trollocs as long as they can. That will draw the Trollocs away from the people escaping out this way. When they can hold no longer, your soldiers can escape the Palace grounds on the far side, and make their way around to the southern gate.”
    “A good plan,” Guybon said, grudgingly. “I will do as you suggest, but what of you?”
    “I have to get to the dragons,” Talmanes said. “We cant let them fall to the Shadow. They’re in a warehouse near the edge of the Inner City. The Queen wanted them kept out of sight, away from the mercenary bands outside. I have to find them. If possible, retrieve them. If not, destroy them.”
    “Very well,” Guybon said, turning away, looking frustrated