Shadow War - Deborah Chester [132]
Then the men were upon them, striding hard and purposefully.
The guardsman shoved Elandra so hard she stumbled and nearly fell, and flung himself in the path of the men.
“Hold!” snapped a voice. “We’re friends, you fool.”
“My lady, wait!”
But Elandra was already spinning around, breathless with relief to see the red cloaks of the Imperial Guard looming out of the shadows. Their swords were bloody. Their eyes were blazing and brutal.
Her guardsman spoke to them rapidly, reporting to the sergeant in command. He pointed at Elandra, who returned to his side with as much dignity as she could muster.
“I must be at the side of the emperor,” she said, making her voice sound far more steady and assured than she really was. “What has happened?”
“We’ve no time to waste on this. Reinforcements must be got through to the eastern side of the palace,” the sergeant said, his gaze sliding past her impatiently to the guardsman. “Can you get us there?”
“Aye, but I’m responsible for her Majesty.”
The sergeant scowled. “Where’s the protector?”
His impatience angered Elandra. She glared at him. “My protector is dead, killed defending my life.”
Their eyes flickered, and for a moment they were human beings again, chastened and respectful.
“Damned savages,” the sergeant muttered. “We’ll have to split up—”
Another group of guardsmen joined them, taut and wild-looking, bringing some of their wounded with them.
“Move on!” one shouted. “We’re falling back. The central part of the palace is lost. They’ve started to loot now.”
Horror spread across every face, and Elandra shared the shame and impotent fury all of them were feeling. To have barbarians in the palace that had stood untouched for nearly a thousand years was a desecration, a nightmare that could not be believed and yet was happening.
“Majesty!” said an accented voice that made her head snap around.
She looked and saw a man pushing his way through the soldiers, head and shoulders above the other men, his blue eyes vivid in the silhouette of his face.
“Caelan!” she said in relief, feeling safe for the first time tonight. “Give me your aid in reaching my husband.”
“She cannot fall into their hands. She must be protected,” the sergeant said, turning about to see who Caelan was. He grunted and jerked his head in an unspoken command.
Caelan stepped clear of the others, and they marched on.
The guardsman in gold lingered behind only to bow to her. “Please, Majesty, give me leave to fight.”
“Go,” she said.
He saluted her and swung around after the departing men, giving Caelan one quick, meaningful glance as though to pass his responsibility into Caelan’s hands.
She faced the Traulander, who was alert, standing high, his nostrils quivering and his eyes keen and bright. He loved this, she realized. The danger, the excitement, the threat of combat... these all combined to bring him alive.
“Is the palace truly lost?” she asked, unable to believe it still.
“It will be soon,” he replied. “We were betrayed. Someone let them in, and they gained a stranglehold before the alarm was sounded.”
Elandra drew in a sharp breath, angry and shamed. “Tirhin?”
He nodded, looking grim. “I saw him leading the opposing forces. The emperor fell back twice, cursing him before gods and men, trying to hold.”
“The emperor has not been taken?” she asked in sudden fear.
“No,” Caelan said grimly. “He has been persuaded to save himself, in order that we can regroup the army elsewhere.”
“But to leave the palace—”
“It has to be done, and you must hurry if you’re not to be left behind as part of the spoils.”
She glared at him, outraged that he would even think it, much less say it, but she didn’t protest. There wasn’t time for an argument.
He gripped her elbow through her cloak, only to release her in startlement. He frowned, started to touch the magic cloth again, then did not.
“It comes from Mahira,” she said. “It has a protective spell on it. I am surprised you could feel it. No one else has.”
“I can do many things most cannot,” he said grimly. “Have