“He’s dead?!” Tsia’s face blanched at the news.

“Um, yeah? We didn’t exactly have a choice,” Jasper explained, a bit puzzled by her reaction. “He was under the mage’s control; he nearly killed Ihra,” he continued.

“But…” A conflicted look crossed her face before she shook her head. “If it had to be done, it had to be done, but this will make things difficult.”

“Why? He wasn’t a traitor, wasn’t he?”

“Maybe, but how are we going to prove that? Both mind mages are dead, and unless Sarganīl was stupid enough to leave behind evidence of his initial plot against my father, he’ll just look like the victim of a mind mage.”

“Well, even so, we had no choice,” Jasper repeated.

“I know, but my stepmother…” Tsia sighed. “I don’t know what she’lll use it for, but I’m certain she’ll find a way to leverage her father’s death into forcing my father’s hand on something.”

“Why would he go along with it?” Jasper questioned. “Isn’t she less powerful now that her father isn’t there to support her, especially since he died as a traitor?”

“Unless we can prove that Sarganīl was part of the plot before the mind mage arrived in Birnah, most will refuse to believe he turned on my father. Sarganīl was one of our best generals for decades and has many staunch supporters amongst the nobility. Without proof of his treason, the whispers of conspiracy will flourish,” she replied wryly.

“They’ll question why we had to kill him. Why we couldn’t just imprison him. Why Father sent strangers, durgu, to invade our cities. Why his armies didn’t deal with the Atrometos attacks. It will be nonsense, of course, but the truth won’t matter. For the sake of keeping the peace, Father will be forced to treat Sarganīl like a fallen hero and provide some boon for his ‘service.’”

“Well that sucks,” Jasper chuffed. “I didn’t realize killing Sarganil would cause so many problems.”

“It’s not ideal, but it’s better than the alternative,” Tsia said. “In the end, keeping the city in Sapīyan hands is more important than whatever concessions Father will have to give. It’s just unfortunate you had to kill him.”

“That assumes we can hold the city.” Marīltu cut in as he joined the group. A new scar ran down the side of the commander’s face, the skin still red and puckered where it had healed. “As invaluable as your help proved, my lady, the main gate is destroyed, and Stryn’s armies are no more than a few days.”

“Do we know where they are,” Jasper asked.

“Our information is lacking,” the commander admitted with a sigh. “Apparently, the surrounding villages had ceased responding to Rahmû’s missives, and the mage was too paranoid to send scouts out himself. We’re blind right now, with a broken gate and an army in disarray.”

“If worst comes to worst, my men can hold the gate,” S̆ams̆ādur spoke up. “It’s narrow enough that our shield wall will hold.”

“You should not underestimate the strength of Styrn’s cavalry,” Marīltu replied. “Fortunately, their cavalry is of little use against our walls, but if given enough space for a charge, they are nearly unstoppable. I mean no disrespect to your men, but I doubt even a durgu shield wall will be able to hold them indefinitely.”

“It sounds like we need to rebuild the gate then. I assume you have a stone mage somewhere in the city,” Jasper said.

“Not any longer,” Marīltu sighed. “Our previous stone mage failed to sire any children with the talent, and we haven’t managed to replace them yet. We only have a handful of mages in the city, a few of the soldiers and a number of the priests but none, to my knowledge, have the ability to move earth on the scale needed to rebuild the gate. We’ll have to rebuild it manually, but I fear their army will arrive before we finish.”

“Then my men will hold the gate,” S̆ams̆ādur replied defiantly. “If you’re worried about their cavalry, we can set up countermeasures easily enough. Throw up a few sturdy barriers, plant some stakes, and scatter caltrops across the bridge; that should be enough to slow their charge.”

“It may have to do,” Marīltu conceded with a frown. “At least until we can restore the gates. If we have soldiers work in shifts through the night, maybe we can get it done in a week-”

“I might be able to help.” Erin stepped forward, gulping nervously as all eyes swiveled to him.

“Did you pick up the ability to manipulate stone - you haven’t been holding out, have you?” Jasper asked lightheartedly, picking up on his discomfort.

The tension in the scout’s shoulders ceased, and he shook his head. “Nope, still can’t move anything but wood, but I might be able to use the wood to move the stone.” He glanced up at the commander. “Do you have any lumber? A few pieces should be enough to figure out if my plan will work or not.”

“That can be arranged,” Marīltu agreed. “If we’re forced to rebuild the gate by hand, we’ll need lumber for the scaffolds anyway.”

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“Great,” Erin brightened. “It won’t take long to try.”

----------------------------------------

It took a few hours for the gateway to be cleared of the fallen bodies and debris that clogged the path, hours that felt like an eternity to Jasper. Despite their victory, the mood in the city was tense. While the citizens were for the most part overjoyed, welcoming Tsia and the lord of Dabur with open arms, morale amongst the soldiers was dangerously low.

Jasper supposed it wasn’t surprising. After all, when the soldiers had been released from the mindworm’s grip, they found themselves trapped in a battle against their own countrymen. Dead friends and maimed comrades surrounded them, a cause for mourning and rage in normal times. Yet, those feelings were tempered also by the grim specter of fear. They were traitors, mind-controlled traitors perhaps, but traitors nonetheless and with the king not there in person, none could say for certain if any repercussions would befall them. And if those emotions weren’t enough to bring them down, the threat of the approaching army hung heavy.

As Jasper watched the men bring another pile of lumber from Dur-Salmu, he wondered if they could even trust the men to fight, to hold the walls rather than break beneath the threat of a superior force.

“Do you think they’ll hold?” To his surprise, Ihra echoed his thoughts.

“Don’t know,” he grunted. “Hopefully the threat of Stryn will be enough to put some fire in their bellies, but look at them.” He glanced at the men again, who trudged through the still-pouring rain with all the grace and speed of a horde of zombies. “They’re broken.”

Their conversation paused as the men dragged the final pallet of wood in front of the gate and called out for Mariltu. After a minute or two, the door to the outer tower was flung open, and Mariltu strode out, with Erin close on his heels.

The rain pelted down harder as Erin approached the lumber, whipped into such a frenzy by the wind that even their hidey hole beneath the stables wasn’t enough to protect from the cold spray, and Ihra’s lips began to turn blue.

“I’m going back in,” she said, turning around.

“Don’t want you to see this?”

“Not as much as I want to be dry and warm.”

He waved her off, unbothered by the cold, as he kept his eyes focused on the scout.

Erin paused by the lumber, and wiping the rain out of his eyes, lifted his hands. The sheets of lumber melted together into an inchoate blob of wood that inched across the ground. The wood wrapped around a fallen block, lifting it from the ground and carrying it over to the gate. The center stiffened as a pillar of wood elevated the block to a gaping hole and, tilting slightly, slid it into position.

The stone wasn’t a perfect fit, but with another wave of his hands, Erin split off a small portion of the wood to reinforce the seams and froze it in place.

One down, seven hundred to go. Jasper stayed in the rain a while longer, watching as Erin reconstructed the right side of the gate in a strange conglomerate of stone and magically hardened wood. It probably wasn’t as strong as the original gate had been, but it was a hell of a lot better than nothing, and he could see the men’s spirits lifting as they brought more shipments of lumber. Tension still hung over the crowd, but it was mixed with hope.

His curiosity satisfied, he left the men to their tasks and headed back inside.

A rush of warm air greeted him as he stepped into the guardhouse, tinged with a hint of smoke from the roaring fire Ihra had stoked. She’d stripped out of her armor, replacing it with a simple blue tunic from his uncle’s manor, and was huddled before the hearth.

She glanced up as he approached, greeting him with a smile. “Is the gate restored?”

He paused a few feet away, keenly aware of the water cascading down him, and shook his head as he began to pull off his armor. “Not yet, but I think his idea will work. The gate won’t be perfect, but it should be enough to hold them off, especially if the priests can restore the wards.”

He glanced around the barracks, realizing that there was no sign of the rest of their party. “Where’s Tsia and Samsadur?”

An amused smile flickered across her lips. “Where do you think the princess is? She took Samsadur’s troops to secure Sarganil’s palace, but honestly - I think she just wanted a feather bed.”

A wince of pain cut off his chuckle as he pried the wet armor, which had been glued in place by dried blood, off his left side.

“Jasper!” The horror-stricken note in her voice caused him to freeze, and he glanced over guilty.

“What?”

She rolled to her feet, eyes narrowing indignantly as she approached him. “You know what! All that blood…” She stopped beside him, running a gentle hand over the mass of sticky liquid. “Are you still injured? Do you need another potion?”

“No…it’s fine,” he said sheepishly, pulling away from her touch as he finished pulling the garment over his head. His eyes widened, though, as he glanced down and finally saw what she was referring to. The entire left side of his body from nearly his collarbone down to his hips was covered in a mat of partially-dried blood. “Damn, looks worse than I realized - but I’m fine,” he hastened to say as he saw the look in her eyes. I cast my healing spell a couple of times and while it’s a little sore still, it’ll heal.”

But Ihra wasn’t prepared to let the matter drop. “That’s a lot of blood - that’s not some minor wound, Jasper. What happened?”

“I…uh…may have been skewered by a spear,” he admitted. “But don’t worry - it was all according to plan, and it worked out.”

It was the wrong thing to say. “According to plan?” Her eyes darkened. “Do you mean you purposefully allowed yourself to get skewered? Jasper, that’s the sort of wound that could - no, should - kill you. Selene’s grace, what were you thinking?”

Jasper sighed. “I was losing, Ihra. I didn’t have the Ophan, didn’t have Equalizer, and I was pretty much out of essence. I knew my flame charge could hurt them, but I couldn’t get close enough, so I made a tactical decision.”

“A tactical decision? You made a suicide charge! Why didn’t you call for me - I could have helped.”

“And let that mage take over the city? I don’t know how much time we had before the ritual-”

“If that is what it takes, then yes.”

He blinked in surprise at the intensity of her answer.

“I couldn’t just-”

“Yes, you can,” she snapped back. “If we can help this city - great! - but not at the cost of you dying. You are not. permitted. to. die. Understand?” Despite the angry tone of her words, Jasper softened when he saw the tears brimming in her eyes.

“Okay,” he said simply. “But I’m going to hold you to that too.”

A small smile broke through her anger. “Don’t worry - you won’t get rid of me that easily.”