Fic: With Fire and Sword (5/8)

[melyanna]

Previously:

Part I
Part II
Part III
Part IV


There were still pockets of fighting here and there, but for the most part, the first wave was over. Jack knew with utter certainty that a second wave was coming. The battle out in the harbor had not broken the Wraith line blocking the entrance, though a number of the Wraith ships had been destroyed. The Aurora and Tria were still giving them a fight, but soon enough the Wraith would set down more landing boats, and more men would be upon them.

Jack hurried into the palace, as fast as he could considering his armor, and up to the ramparts where the archers were still watching vigilantly. John turned as soon as the trap door opened, and he hastened to help Jack climb the last few feet. "What's wrong?" the younger man asked.

Jack shook his head. "I wanted a better view."

"The queen's tower has a better view," John pointed out.

"I'm not climbing any more stairs than I have to," Jack replied, although that was hardly the real reason. He wasn't going anywhere near his wife until this was all over, because he imagined that if he saw her now, he would not be able to leave her again.

John simply nodded. "They'll be landing again soon."

The abrupt change in subject did not catch Jack off-guard. "I know. I sent some of the men forward to repair breaches in the fortifications, but I doubt we will be able to hold back another wave of the same strength."

"Then fire the cannons," John said.

"Thor said we would only have one opportunity for each."

"I have not known you to equivocate before, my lord," the other man said, looking surprised. "If you wait for the right moment to announce itself, it will never come."

"I know," Jack said irritably. "Best to wait, I think, for the next wave to reach the hill. You'll order your men to fire, which they will expect."

John nodded. "And then you will give the signal to fire the cannons."

"Yes. Then with any luck..."

"Believe me, Jack," John replied, a deadly serious look in his eyes. "It will not involve luck."

Peter had come up a little while ago to report to Elizabeth about what was going on. All of the ladies were relieved to hear that the first wave had been beaten back, but Elizabeth was worried. Jack had sent Peter with a message that there was reason to be optimistic, but she could not help herself. As the hours passed, each of the women had tried to get some sleep, but Elizabeth could not stay still through the sounds of battle that drifted up.

Now she paced the room slowly, aware that Kate was awake and watching her. "I know that pacing will do no good," Elizabeth said lowly.

Kate actually smiled. "I know that telling you that will do no good."

Elizabeth returned the smile, though weakly. She came up to the bed and sat down beside Kate. "I just wish it were over."

"I know."

Kate looked nervous about something, and Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at her. "What are you not telling me, Kate?"

"I've been thinking," she said quietly. "If the Wraith manage to come up here, perhaps we can draw them away from Laura and Sarah and Perna."

Elizabeth's heart sped up a little. "It would be terribly dangerous."

"Yes," Kate conceded, "but we - we could get help. And I think they would not bother to see if we left anyone behind."

Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder at the others. Laura was asleep, though not well, and Sarah and Perna were sitting at the fire, deep in a conversation of their own. She did not like the idea of leaving them, yet she knew deep down that Kate was right. "Well," she said, "hopefully it will not come to that."

"Elizabeth," Kate whispered, her expression full of earnestness and fear. Elizabeth had never known Kate to be this afraid of anything, and that perhaps more than anything else compelled her response.

"All right," she said, in a voice equally low. "But I still hope that -"

She never got the rest of her sentence out of her mouth. She was cut off by a tremendous explosion, the likes of which she and Kate had heard before in lesser strength. A second blast followed within moments. The other three women in the room - for the noise shook Laura from her sleep - looked to Elizabeth in alarm, and she got to her feet without quite thinking about it.

"Jack has used the gunpowder," she said. She wondered, but did not ask aloud, if he had used it because he had no other choice.

When she spotted Jack coming back out of the palace, Teyla took off toward him at a run. "My lord," she said, wiping sweat from her forehead.

Jack nodded to her. "There's another wave coming. I think they're bringing torches."

Teyla forced herself to take a deep breath. "The fortification is green. It will take some considerable effort to burn, even if they bring kindling with them."

"Yes," he replied. After a pause, he added, "I am going to fire the cannons."

Teyla watched his face intently, searching for the reason for this move. "You think we cannot survive another assault."

"I am nearly certain of it, Teyla," he told her.

"What if the Wraith send another wave after this one?" she asked. "We will have to fight them off without such aids."

Jack paused for a moment, and Teyla wished she had been in the summit meetings. "If you had heard the Caldorans speaking of this weapon, I do not know if you would ask that," he said. "I doubt they will send another landing party after we fire the cannons."

Teyla narrowed her eyes, looking toward the embankment. There were still men setting the spears to rights, but most of them were heading back to their earlier positions. A thought suddenly occurred to her. "If they try to set fire to the line, we should let them," she said. At Jack's puzzled look, she said, "We only have one shot from each of the cannons, correct? If we let them set fire to it, it will trap them on the far side until the fortification has been burned."

Jack understood. "Of course. That would be our best advantage." He looked up and down the line for a moment. "If you would, Countess, head back to your position. Inform the captains on the north side of the line that we are preparing to fire. They should make sure their men are ready for it."

She nodded immediately and did as he said. Once she looked south and saw Jack doing the same on the other half of the line. A few minutes later, as she was explaining to her own people what was about to happen, a small gate nearby creaked open.

Her awareness still heightened, she whirled about, knife in hand, and saw Ronon at the ready too. But through the gate came a handful of Asgard, wheeling a cart out of the palace. A hush fell over the Athosians as they passed, and everyone seemed to be watching them transport an iron cylinder around their line.

"So that is it," Ronon said from beside Teyla as she watched. She had not heard him approach her, but his presence did not startle her. "It doesn't look like much."

Privately, she agreed, but everything she had heard of this weapon went contrary to that. "You and I have never seen its equal, my lord."

She looked up at him, but he was looking at the sea. There was a long, heavy silence between them, and Teyla wondered, not for the first time, what was going on in his mind. Ronon had suffered much, and while exacting revenge on his captors might be satisfying in the moment, she knew it would not heal the pain of the destruction of his home, even as he fought to prevent another's ruin.

But he said nothing of that, not that she expected him to. Instead, he merely said, "They're coming. With fire."

Just as it was the first time, it was difficult to watch and do nothing. Now the haze of smoke obscured what little Teyla could see given her height. It took some considerable time - giving the archers plenty of time to seek their prey - but eventually they heard a cheer from the other side of the embankment, and flames licked at the spears that had been blocking their attack. Before long, it was engulfed.

Unconsciously, Teyla squeezed the hilt of her sword. Arrows still whistled overhead, but she was waiting for another sound.

The roar of the cannon came like a mighty thunderclap, echoed a few moments later from the other end of the embankment, both sounds making everyone jump in alarm. Even through the fire Teyla could see the smoke from the blast and the chaos among the Wraith. When she could hear properly again, she heard screaming on the other side of the hill. In brief glimpses between clouds of smoke and dust, she saw men lying on the ground, many of them no longer whole. The mass of Wraith beyond the embankment descended into chaos. Some were panicking and running toward the harbor, others actually passed the embankment and were struck by arrows from overhead.

Beside her, Ronon growled softly, "Would that we could charge."

Having lived her whole life under the threat of the Wraith, Teyla could not disagree with the sentiment. The temptation to storm across the sand and continue the fight was strong, but neither side had the numbers to assault a protected position successfully. They had to wait for the Wraith to come to them. "Sometimes it is best to hold back." Jack was right. The Wraith would not send another wave ashore, not after this.

Jack was well back of the southern cannon when it was fired, but in its aftermath something did not seem right. Whether it was wise or not, he ran up to Thor. "What's going on?"

Thor gestured helplessly at the cannon. "One of the bands holding the iron together gave way," he said. Indeed, the weapon seemed to have ripped open, sections of iron peeling away from each other. "This one was wrought, not cast like the one on the other side. It seems we have not perfected the design yet."

Jack was glad he had not known they were experimenting on a new weapon before now. "It seems to have done its job anyway."

Thor nodded. "We can be grateful for that."

Jack directed them to pull back from the end of the embankment, knowing that the Wraith would be seeking an escape, probably not caring whether they went toward the waiting army or the sea. Either way, they could not go far. The archers were still firing into their midst, and above the crackle of the fire Jack could hear the cries of the dying.

Back in the line, Daniel nodded to him. "Well done."

Jack shrugged. He'd had little to do with it. "Lord John's men will finish them off, I imagine. It's up to the navy now to make sure the rest of them have no escape."

Emerson wished desperately that the Prometheus was in the lead rather than her sister ship. Captain Marks was a good officer, but he was new to command and not very experienced in battle. Now he was charged with leading the vital attack on the harbor mouth.

To their advantage, three of the Wraith ships were anchored on an angle, presenting their sides to the harbor mouth. The position was intended to block off any attempts by the Atalanian ships to escape the harbor, but it would make striking the ships much easier for the infantry, as they would have three long targets to aim for.

Unfortunately, this also meant there would be more time for the Wraith to return fire as well. And the fourth ship was at cross-angles, her bow facing the line of attacking ships. She would be difficult to hit.

Speed was also going to be an issue. Aiming and launching the fire pots or even the grenades could be done by one person and the men were experienced enough to do so swiftly, but the Asgard weapon was immobile. McKay was going to have to gauge the distance and the trajectory while they were in motion. The slower the Odyssey was moving, the easier his job would be.

But that also raised the risk of counter-attack significantly.

He gave orders to lower the sails and reduce their speed, signaling Prometheus to do the same so she did not run into them by accident. McKay was hovering near the closed end of the cannon, waiting and watching their approach nervously.

The Pegasus was still moving at full sail, and she closed the distance to the Wraith ships. There had been faint hope the Wraith would not notice their approach but the destruction of the Apollo had called attention out to the open sea, and Emerson could see and hear the Wraith preparing to fire. Something struck him as odd through the telescope.

Before he could put his finger on it, though, a loud booming noise echoed over the water, followed shortly by a second.

"The cannons," McKay said, almost reverently. "They must have fired them both."

"I'm not sure I want to be standing here when this is fired," Emerson observed wryly. "If it was that loud out here..."

McKay nodded, but shouts came from ahead before he said anything, and they turned to watch the Pegasus engage the Wraith ships.

The winds were steadier here than they had been on the open waters, so the men launching the grenades and fire pots did not need the guidance of an archer to strike. And strike they did - almost all of the grenades found a target, and the fire pots followed. Marks wisely concentrated his fire on the ships at the end of the line, leaving the middle, most protected vessel for the Odyssey. The exchange took a few minutes, even though Pegasus was moving swiftly. The Wraith continued to fire from all four ships as she passed. Some of the projectiles struck her deck and hull, but Pegasus continued past the mouth and immediately began to use the winds to turn. She would come about and run the gamut again, once the other ships were safely out of the way.

The ship on the right end of the Wraith line was burning badly. The second ship was the most sheltered, but the third ship was furthest in the harbor. Striking her with the fire pots would be difficult given the winds. Emerson turned to McKay. "Aim for the third ship in."

"Right," he muttered absently, already using several instruments Emerson didn't recognize. His forehead was wrinkled in concentration. The captain ordered all the men on deck to stand clear and out of the way while McKay and his helper readied the cannon.

They were close to the ships now, and the infantry turned their attention to lobbing the fire pots and arrows into the night at the second ship on the Wraith line. The returning fire was more sporadic than Emerson had expected. He squinted again at the Wraith ship, but he was directing fire and sending men to smother flames while part of his mind waited anxiously for the Asgard weapon to be unleashed.

The sound was indeed deafening. Every man on the deck jumped, including McKay. The whining noise of the ball was eerie as it sped away through the darkness. The terrifying noise had momentarily stopped the Wraith attack and Emerson held his breath, waiting and praying McKay had proved as accurate as he boasted himself to be.

A mighty crash heralded the cannon ball finding its target. He watched, open-mouthed, as the side of the third Wraith ship buckled, her timbers splintering around a gaping hole that appeared in the side. Then a second noise heralded the ship's side shattering from within, pieces of wood cracking and falling into the water while flames began to lick at the edges of the hole. For a moment nobody moved.

A shout from across the water snapped him out of his paralysis. "Aim for the gap!" Emerson yelled at the infantry, who did their best to launch more fire pots at the impact point on the Wraith ship, but they were too far past to be effective.

He ordered the sails reopened to catch the wind and help bring the ship about as Prometheus opened fire on the damaged ship in the Odyssey's wake. Ronson had been paying attention - his men concentrated their fire on the open hole in the hull. The third ship was swiftly engulfed from within.

"Two down," he muttered to himself. The second ship was burning but not badly, and the fourth, with her bulk safely facing away from the Atalanian ships, was intact. Pegasus had already turned around and was sweeping forward so fast she would pass not far from Odyssey, which was just starting her turn.

"Captain!" McKay yelled. Emerson hurried over, dreading what he might find. The Asgard had warned them that the cannon could very well do more damage to the ship than to the enemy, but the weapon was intact.

"How long until you can bring us about?" McKay demanded.

"Several minutes. We lost a great deal of speed. We're low on arms as it is. We'll leave the bulk of the attack to the other two ships."

"No. We need to come around again and fire."

He stared. McKay had a wild look in his eyes. "The Asgard said it could only be fired once."

"I know what they said! But look, the weapon is undamaged. There's no reason it cannot fire again."

"No reason that you know of," he snapped back.

McKay waved a hand impatiently. "You said yourself that you didn't care if the thing exploded as long as it took the Wraith down with us."

Emerson rubbed his chin. Like it or not, they had little choice. Pegasus and Prometheus could take care of the burning vessel but the undamaged Wraith ship was a serious danger. They could not allow the ship to escape. Short of ramming the enemy, they didn't have many other options. "Very well."

He hurried toward the stern, grabbing the signal lantern and waving it wildly back and forth to get the attention of Marks or one of his officers. Then he flashed the lantern twice, praying that the young captain would understand the order.

The Pegasus passed close to the stern, so near that they could hear shouts from the deck of the other ship.  Captain Emerson dared not bellow their plans across the water, though.  The Wraith ships were not all that far away.

Rodney waited as the Odyssey began to come about with what seemed to be agonizing slowness.  He had been grateful for the reduction of speed when he needed to fire.  It was nothing short of a miracle he'd managed to calculate the trajectory of the weapon correctly while in motion, and at a target that was moving - albeit not all that much - on the seas as well.

Strangely, he felt little alarm at the moment about the prospect of doing it again and at a smaller target.

The Odyssey swept out toward the open water, using her superior maneuverability to gain speed off the winds.  All the Atalanian captains had the advantage of knowing the vagaries of the harbor winds intimately, unlike the Wraith.  But unlike Pegasus and Prometheus, she would have to make a full circle.  The other two ships had simply turned about and run past the Wraith line again immediately.  The archers and infantry were able to fire from either side.  Odyssey did not have that luxury.

Emerson did his best to keep the turn tight and come about along the same path as their original attack, putting the starboard side once again toward the harbor and the Wraith.

Someone from the bow yelled in alarm and Rodney blanched to see Pegasus coming directly at them. Odyssey had nowhere to go short of tacking into the harbor itself.

"Turn!" Emerson yelled toward the other ship, almost in reflex, even though it was obvious his voice wasn't going to carry far enough.

There was a tense wait as the ships remained on a collision course. The ignominy of their own ships crashing and taking each other down without the Wraith having to lift a finger would have been unbearable, Rodney thought, just as Pegasus made a sharp turn out to sea. Prometheus followed her path and the way was clear.

Three of the Wraith ships were now burning.  The fourth, their target, was coming to life, and Rodney looked frantically from the harbor to the Odyssey's sails, trying to determine if they would reach the ship in time to fire before it moved farther into the safe waters and out of range.

Meanwhile Emerson was focusing on the ships through his telescope. "Where is the crew?"

"What?"

The captain turned to him, his expression confused.  "Their counterattack has been lighter than it should be.  Even now I cannot make out many men abandoning the ship, or even preparing to fire back."

Rodney swallowed, his fear momentarily returning.  Short of a peaceful death in his sleep at a very advanced age, no method of dying appealed to him, but burning alive or drowning in the frigid water were certainly low on the list.  "Could they be dead already?"

Emerson shook his head.  "Not that many.  The ships just appear to be lightly manned."

Rodney gave orders to prepare to fire again as they drew closer. Emerson was still thinking.  He looked toward the palace, where the invaders were attacking the gates of Atlantis.  "I was right. They must have assumed we would put all our ships into the harbor, relying on the palace walls to protect the rest of the shore."

He turned to Rodney.  "What if they left only a skeleton crew on these ships?"

"But the ships in the harbor were fighting back, weren't they?"

"Yes, but these four have largely been sitting.  If the bulk of their forces were on these ships, and they were intended to guard the escape, they might not have left many behind."

"They wouldn't think they were needed here," Rodney finished for him. Another thought struck him and made his throat go dry.  "That would mean the number of the Wraith on the ground would be far higher than Lord Jonathan would expect."

Emerson's face was grave.  "We need to take out that last ship, McKay, and get our remaining forces into the harbor."

Rodney nodded and the captain turned to give orders to reduce their speed for firing.  Now that they were fairly certain the Wraith could not fight back much, the ship slowed even more than it had the first time.

The fires on the other ships helped illuminate the fourth vessel, which had unfurled her sails, but was not making much progress.  The winds were in the wrong quarter for them, and the old, bulky ship could not maneuver around her sinking fellows before the Odyssey was upon her.

That did not change that the new target was much, much narrower than the first.  Rodney hastily repeated his calculations, knowing that they likely had only one shot at this.

Emerson had the infantry toward the stern, so that this time they might take advantage of any damage wrought on the Wraith ship by the cannon.  Rodney watched, waiting, nearly bouncing on his feet with anticipation as they closed the distance.  Only sporadic fire struck from the Wraith - the other ships were foundering.

Then it was time.  Rodney drew in a deep breath and yelled, "Now!"

The explosive sound of the cannon firing next to him was deafening, but even as he flinched, Rodney registered that something was different this time.  The whine of the ball flying away receded but he couldn't watch it - another crash resounded on the deck and something struck his leg sharply and he fell, howling in pain.

The noise of the explosion assured him the cannon ball had found its target. There was a chorus of yelling, some it from the infantry firing, which he took to be a good sign.  The rest was from the men standing nearest the cannon.  Or rather, what was left of it.

The iron bands had sheared off the cannon.  One of them had hit Rodney, fortunately the smallest of them, or he might have lost his legs.  The larger one had not only torn loose from the metal but taken a good chunk of the deck with it.  Meanwhile the remains of the tube were in pieces and the wood of the deck was badly cracked.

An ominous creaking was all the warning they had before a portion of the deck sagged and one of the masts swayed sharply.  It tilted backwards as the deck pulled it down. The stress was too much and the mast snapped in half.  Sailors and soldiers scattered every which way as the mast toppled, bringing the canvas of the sail across part of the deck.

Emerson was calling for the men to organize themselves, then he turned to Rodney.  "Are you injured?"

"I don't know," Rodney gasped.  He wiggled his toes.  That had to be a good sign.  At least he still had full feeling.  "I'll probably need to see Beckett.  Did we hit the ship?"

"We did," Emerson said with a grin.  "It's burning.  Pegasus and Prometheus will finish them off and head into the harbor once the way is clear enough."

Rodney nodded, still examining his legs worriedly.  Emerson glanced at the fallen mast and sighed.  "We don't seem to be going anywhere for a spell."

Rodney thought the man was disappointed about not being able to continue the fighting, then he remembered Emerson's observation about the Wraith forces.

"Have we any way to warn the palace?" he asked.

"No," Emerson said with grim finality.

As the flames lingered across the embankment, John ordered his men to cease fire. Something was not right. He could not see very well through the smoky darkness, and he did not wish to deplete their precious supply of arrows when they did not know what was going on below.

On the ground, the defenders were milling about without purpose or pattern. From the sea they could all still hear the noise of battle, including not one but two booming echoes across the water indicating that the cannon had been fired, but it was difficult to tell what was happening. There were signals, of course, that the ships could use to communicate with land, but they likely did not have the time to bother with such things. John could not blame them, but it was frustrating.

In the interim, he instructed his men to rest their arms. The battle had been going on for hours, and even the best-trained archer would be feeling fatigued by now. He also ordered them to make sure their quivers were full. It was only prudent that they take this opportunity to gather themselves for another onslaught.

He firmly believed that the firing of the cannons, along with whatever was happening out in the harbor, had deterred a third landing party, but right now he could not even tell what had happened to the second wave. Having been witness to the gunpowder's destructive power once before, he could guess, but he could not know for sure.

Below, the fire was waning to mere embers. A gentle breeze picked up from the north, clearing away much of the thick smoke. On instinct, John drew an arrow and raised his bow all at once.

"My lord?" said one of his lieutenants, who was standing near.

"They waited," John said, taking aim. Many of the Wraith who survived the cannons had fled toward the sea, where they were easily picked off by the archers. These had huddled behind the burning fortification until they could cross it, and their numbers were alarmingly high. "The bastards waited. Fire at will!"

He bellowed the last words, and his men scrambled back into position, desperately firing at this last, gasping attack.

Teyla knew the quiet had been too easily won. For all that the cannons were horrifying and destructive, they were just another weapon, and it was clear as more Wraith charged over the hill that the gunpowder was not all-powerful.

This time the lines of defenders were disorganized, the lull distracting them from their watching. The pits, no longer empty, were less of a deterrent now, and the killing field was full of dead men's bodies, an obstacle for attacker and defender alike.

Teyla ignored the aching in her arms and launched herself at the enemy. These had been the terror of her childhood, the murderers of her mother and father and countless more of her people. She would show no mercy to them, for they had never shown any themselves.

Her sword blocked blow after blow, and her dagger struck a mortal wound on more than one occasion. She was vaguely aware when a Wraith knife drew blood, nicking her temple, but the bleeding only increased her fury. With a powerful thrust of her sword, she ran her attacker through, feeling grotesquely satisfied to see that the man was surprised to have been brought down by a woman.

He would be neither the first nor the last.

Jack cursed himself for letting the men be caught off-guard by this late rally. Still, nothing would come of recriminations now, so that would have to wait for later. At least he felt reasonably confident now that there would be a later.

He fought whichever Wraith was near him, not budging from the patch of ground he defended. There were not so many this time, but there were enough to overrun the tired Atalanians. Jack bellowed out orders to Peter Grodin, who dutifully ran up and down the line to coordinate the defense and bring back reports. Every time the young man returned, Jack was glad to see him still alive.

He knocked the sword out of a Wraith's hand and lunged forward, his own blade piercing the other man's heart. With a moment in which he could breathe, Jack glanced around. Suddenly, he realized that Daniel was nowhere to be seen. They had been together after the cannons were fired, but then Jack went to speak to the captains on the southern end of the line while Daniel spoke to Teyla. Jack couldn't remember if he'd come back.

For a panicked moment he thought to look around for him, but then another Wraith was upon him. He had to survive this before he could find his friend.

Ronon wished with all his heart that they had charged, fire be damned. It would have been better than waiting and being caught unawares.

Not that he had let down his wariness. He knew too much of how the Wraith worked. After the cannons did their work, he could imagine the captains on the other side of the hill looking to the sea battle and deciding the only thing left was one last attack. With their retreat cut off and no easy escape back out to the open waters, they would do as much damage as possible even in death. Ronon would ensure the damage was minimal, and bring death to as many Wraith as possible.

He moved from one Wraith to another as though he were in a dream, as though he was a man possessed. Not even when a blade pierced his skin did he feel pain or weariness. He simply drank in the bloodlust and let the Satedan blade in his hands do its work.

But there was a break in the line a little to the north of the Athosians. Distantly he heard Teyla shouting, trying to get someone to close the gap. Ronon paused long enough to look, and suddenly he saw a trio of Wraith slipping past the defenders in the darkness, heading straight for one of the gates.

There were very few people in the palace now. The injured and the healers, and the queen and her ladies. The latter were sequestered somewhere, probably in the high tower where he understood she resided. Two pregnant women were with the queen.

Either party was woefully unprotected now. Without another thought, Ronon sprinted toward the nearest gate, pushing a few men out of his way as he charged inside.

Ever since convincing Elizabeth that they should leave the others behind if the Wraith made it up here, Kate had been feeling vaguely ill. She did not like lying to Elizabeth, and the thought of what would precipitate their leaving only made matters worse.

That led inevitably to thoughts of Marcus, standing guard just a little distance from them. Even though he had spoken more plainly than ever before with her, she did not know what to think of what he'd said, now that she was removed some hours from it. Did he mean that he had loved her before the fight that ended their romance? Or did he mean that he still loved her? Her own heart was still drawn to him in ways she could not explain, and the silence from the battlefield and the memory of his last kiss were driving her to distraction.

But suddenly, she heard the ring of a sword drawn, then another. The others all heard it too. Then came the clanging of steel against steel, and Kate rose without hesitation, leaving the bedchamber to see what was going on.

She ignored Elizabeth's call for her to come back and instead cracked open the door to the corridor. Through the sliver of space she could see three Wraith engaging the two guards. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Elizabeth come into the sitting room as well, but Kate's attention was fixed on the skirmish outside.

Then suddenly, a Wraith knife plunged into Marcus' chest.

Kate did not shriek or cry or panic. Instead, she acted on instinct. Without giving Elizabeth any opportunity to back out, she grabbed her friend's hand, flung open the door, and ran.

Elizabeth fell in step behind her, but soon Kate could hear the pounding of feet catching up to them. Their only hope was to outrun their pursuer. She hastened down the stairs recklessly, but as Kate reached the first turn of the staircase, Elizabeth screamed.

From above, John could see the Satedan prince turn his back on the fighting and run into the palace, through the gate directly below John's position. He did not know precisely what the man was up to, but there was no good reason he could think of. Pausing only long enough to hand his longbow and quiver to the page nearby, John hastened to the trap door and down into the palace below.

It did not take him long to reach the ground level, where several yards ahead he saw the prince. With a shout, John ran toward him, but the other man raised a hand. "What is wrong?" John almost demanded when he was near enough. "Why are you inside?"

"Wraith," the prince hissed, and John went stiff. He knew things were all chaotic in this last assault, but how had any Wraith broken through?

A moment later he realized that Dex must have lost track of them inside the labyrinth of corridors. John held his tongue. The other man was listening for their footsteps over the raucous sounds of battle outside.

Down and to the left would take them to the makeshift sickroom Carson had set up the day before. Up and to the right would take them to Elizabeth. When Ronon settled on the latter, John's entire body seemed to tingle with fear, but he tamped it down. There were two men guarding the level where Elizabeth and the other ladies were waiting. They were not utterly defenseless.

On the other hand, it did not hurt if they took the stairs two at a time.

John could hear the sounds of steel meeting steel when they were still two floors below. His body protested but he pushed upward anyway. Moments later they rounded the last corner and climbed the last step and saw three Wraith and only one guard standing.

Captain Lorne had fallen.

John did not know if the captain was already dead, but one of the Wraith was hovering over him, ready to strike a blow that would assure his death. John bellowed as he charged, and the sound caught the Wraith's attention. The scum evidently thought live prey was a better target, and he turned to meet the swing of John's sword with his own.

All he could feel now was desperation mixed with fury, and he let that channel into every blow. There was no way the Wraith could know that the queen was in this tower, but John would not let them find out.

With a mighty heave, he shoved the Wraith back several steps, but in doing so John opened his awareness beyond this short stretch of corridor. About halfway down it, he saw two women running away. It was Elizabeth and Kate.

The sight distracted him a moment too long. His opponent rallied and, catching him off-guard, gripped his sword with both hands and swung, knocking John's sword out of his hands.

He backed up, reaching for his knife, but there was a blur from his left. Another sword came crashing down between John and his own opponent, and amid a spray of blood and cry of pain, the Wraith fell down dead.

Ronon had saved him.

"I thank you," John said, breathing heavily. Ronon's own opponent lay dead near Lorne's still motionless body. But the third had slashed Stackhouse's arm viciously. Instead of finishing him or facing the others, he had turned and run toward the ladies as they made their escape.

Ronon took off after him. John paused only for a moment. "Get to Lady Laura and the others," he ordered Stackhouse. "The midwife is there. She can bind your arm. You will guard them with your life, do you understand?"

The lieutenant followed the order without hesitation, and John ran after Ronon, hoping they could intercept. Then one of the women screamed, and John felt almost sick with fear.