The Ravenous Siege (Epic of Haven Trilogy Book 2)

by R. G. Triplett

  The guardsmen fit their bows, and with silent prayers and deep breaths they began to fire at will. Some aimed for the legions of ashen-faced, green-eyed soldiers and others tried their luck aiming for the twin flying serpents. The enemy soldiers, though motivated and compelled by some dark and sinister evil, fell much the same way that men would fall in battle. It seemed that the weapons of the guardsmen inflicted the expected damage upon the army of the un-light. Although they fell like men would fall, they had no sense of fear or dread. They did not flinch or break under the rain of loosed arrows, but marched emotionlessly towards the walls of Haven.

  The arrows, however, were no match for the dragons' scales, and the twin monsters swarmed and flew in between the archers and the marching army below, much like a winged shield.

  "Riders!" Armas shouted to his men as he wheeled his well-muscled steed around to face them. "This is for Haven, and for all those who have not the blade or the bravery to stand today." He slowly reached for and unsheathed his bright, silver blade. The mark of the tree and flint etched in its pommel caught the firelight, and for a moment it looked to Armas as if amber burned once again on its lifeless branches. A bead of nervous sweat rolled down his face and his eyes blurred for just a breath of time. Then he blinked away the fog and raised his blade high for his men to see it.

  One thousand heavy horsemen followed suit, drawing their own weapons and lifting them to the darkened sky. The thick, quiet tension behind the wall was interrupted with the ringing song of a thousand singing, silver blades.

  "May the THREE who is SEVEN protect us this dark, deadly day. May His strength guide our blades and fortify our hearts, and may we live to see a brighter dawn!" Armas called.

  "WE, BY THE THREE WHO IS SEVEN!" shouted the cavalrymen, and with blades in hand they crossed their arms and saluted their captain.

  "Keep your shields up, and stagger the lines. They may have dragons, but there are only two of the damned beasts, and I would rather meet them out here in these outlands than within the city walls," Armas told them.

  He surveyed his men. Fear was present, but courage and duty prevailed, and as he scanned the faces of these brave guardsmen his eye was caught by the blue-colored bodice and brightly determined face of Keily the tavern maiden as she still carried on with the orders he had given her, leading old men and frightened women to drag and carry whatever they could find that would burn towards the wall.

  She felt his stare and met his gaze. No words passed her lips, but respect and worry were screaming in unison from her eyes. Armas smiled a sweet, albeit sad, smile, doing his best to reassure her that this was not against his will, but was for her and her people. He nodded his gratitude and then wheeled his horse around to face the open gate and the impending doom.

  Arrows flew and the green-eyed men fell, though not a scream or cry of pain could be heard there on the field of battle. The twin dragons soared in and out of the rain of arrows, consuming what they might with their green fire, and biding their time to unleash their fury upon the city.

  Armas let loose a long blast from his horn and the North Gate of Haven exploded in a storm of pounding hooves and snorting steeds. The cavalrymen, with green and silver shields raised high, charged in lined formation towards the marching Raven hoard.

  Chapter Nineteen

  "HAVE NO FEAR, MIGHTY MEN of Haven!" Pyrrhus shouted triumphantly as he dismounted his large horse and grabbed the pearl-skinned arm of the golden-haired woman. "It looks as if the only things that stalk us out here in this dark wilderness are pretty little monsters."

  The crowd of woodcutters and guardsmen let out a nervous laughter, for they were both relieved and confused to find this woman bound in cords.

  "She will make for an interesting prisoner, indeed!" Pyrrhus said with a greedy stare.

  "Prisoner?" Cal shouted out from across the square as he made his way closer to the fire knight. "Since when is it the task or assignment of our colony to make or take prisoners, pretty or otherwise?"

  "Oh, groomsman!" Pyrrhus laughed a patronizing laugh. "Why don't you stick to minding those ponies and mules of yours, and let the guardsmen worry about the ins and outs of our assignment."

  "What is going on here?" Tahd said coldly and with great authority as he approached the scene and the spectacle unfolding before him.

  "She is a Wreather, not a prisoner!" Cal argued on, ignoring the presence of the captain. "She knows this place better than any of us, and we would be fools to make an enemy out of her!"

  "Of course she does," Pyrrhus agreed maliciously. "And I for one have ways of getting her to tell me all about this place!"

  Cal drew his sword Gwarwyn, and his face went hard in a furious rage. "Let her go Pyrrhus, she is not some beast for you to bully around."

  "What do you care, groomsman? Do you know this woman?" the knight asked suspiciously.

  "I know that she has done nothing wrong, and that she will not be treated unfairly. So let her be … now," Cal spoke in tones of barely-bridled outrage as he edged Gwarwyn closer to the fire knight.

  "Enough!" Tahd shouted into the growing tempest. "Neither of you shall make any judgment on the affairs of this holy colony."

  "You think that old, rusted relic of yours frightens me, groomsman?" Pyrrhus went on, disregarding the words of his captain. "You are going to talk to me, aren't you, pretty girl," he said, reaching out to stroke her soft cheek with the back of his hand.

  Astyræ swallowed hard. She did fear this cruel and arrogant knight, and yet at the very same moment she was fascinated by the presence of this army of men from Haven. "Why am I in cords? What harm have I caused you tree men?"

  SMACK! Came the sound of flesh on flesh as Pyrrhus struck the violet-eyed woman across her beautiful face. "Do not presume to question me, woman," the knight said in disgust.

  In an instant, Cal lifted his blade and jabbed its sharpened point into the gullet of the fire knight. "Touch her again and I'll-"

  "Relent now!" Tahd shouted, his temper boiling over at the lack of respect. "Put down your sword, groomsman! He is still an officer in my company, and I will have no one—however justified they may presume themselves to be—draw a blade on one of my men!"

  Yasen moved closer to the volatile skirmish, fearing the worst for his friend. He reached out and placed a hand on Cal's shoulder. "Easy, brother," he whispered. "This is not the way to fight for her ... not like this, not now. Stand down."

  "Aye! Talk some sense into this fool of a groomsman, woodcutter." Pyrrhus spat, defiant regardless of the point that threatened to pierce his neck.

  Tahd made a signal, and half a dozen of his armed guardsmen approached cautiously, hands on the hilts of their sheathed blades, ready to bring order at the command of their captain.

  Cal searched Astyræ's twice colored eyes, his chest heaving from his barely restrained anger. "It is alright groomsman," she said kindly. "I am not worth any bloodshed."

  "Sheath your blade now, groomsman!" Tahd commanded in a shout of frustrated anger.

  "Come on, brother," Yasen urged again. "This is not your battle to win right now."

  "She is not theirs to ... to just do with as they will," Cal retorted, defiance rising in his voice.

  "But neither is she yours to make into such a spectacle," Yasen replied matter-of-factly.

  A confused look wrinkled Cal's face. The injustice of it all and the sharp words of his pleading friend did not seem to make much sense. He took in all of the assembled company that had gathered around him, surveying both the curious and the indignant, and it was in that moment that Yasen's words began to sink in.

  Cal pulled back his sword, revealing a trickle of crimson that was slowly running down the neck of the bullish fire knight. Pyrrhus reached up for his neck and wiped at the blood, then examined his red-stained fingers with a snarl of disgust.

  "A Wreather, are you?" Pyrrhus looked at Astyræ much the same way a serpent would eye a barn mouse. "You are still a woman though, yes?" He reached out hi
s right hand to territorially grab a piece of her backside in a crude display of power.

  "Cal, no!" Astyræ blurted out in a desperate plea.

  But it was already too late. Cal, in a fit of righteous anger, raised his ancient blade and in one swift, deadly motion, severed the arm of the arrogant knight. Pyrrhus screamed in shocked disbelief, holding up a bloody stump where his arm should have been, watching in horror as a river of crimson flowed out from his elbow.

  "My arm!" screamed Pyrrhus. "The little bastard cut off my arm!"

  Cal stood there in shock as the world around him rushed in chaotic movement. His senses were dulled while the scene unfolded in a spray of blood. Men tried desperately to stop the bleeding and calm the enraged knight, and then a rush of hands and hurried breath overtook Cal as Tahd's guardsmen ran in to seize him.

  In the midst of the madness, not many took notice of Yasen as he hurriedly grabbed the still-bound Astyræ and led her off toward the heavy timber gates. He took a dagger out from his leather belt and cut away the cords of rope that held her slender hands prisoner. "You haven't much time, my lady," he whispered intently to her. "Cal has foolishly bought you a chance to run. Please, be quick about it ... and get as far away as you might."

  "But what will happen to him?" she begged. "What will they do with him?"

  "I cannot say, though I will use whatever sway I have to steady their wrath; this I promise you," Yasen told her, eager now for her to flee before anyone remembered her.

  "I am sorry, woodcutter!" she said through worried, tearstained eyes. "I ... I didn't mean to-"

  "How did they find you, woman?" Yasen interrupted. "You were supposed to be safe enough in that cave."

  "It was the tree ... that tree, I had to see it! Something in me, something drew me out ... and then when its fire died, I felt a lament and loss that I cannot quite explain."

  "This part of the world has been dark long enough ... why do you choose to mourn now?" he grumbled more to himself than to her as he swiftly walked with her towards the gate.

  "I do not know ... only, that I do mourn its passing, woodcutter," she said.

  "Go then. Back to the cave with you, and stay hidden this time, if you know what's good for you, lass," Yasen barked in worried whispers.

  "But the darkness, Yasen," she whispered, and he could hear the terror in her voice.

  He led her to a small opening between the heavy gates and handed her his dagger. "You will have to endure your fear, or I am afraid that you might find new ones here inside these bloodied walls." Yasen looked over his shoulder as four guardsmen dragged his friend towards the prison hold on the east side of the outpost. "Go!" he whispered back to her. "Go now and be quick about it."

  "Tell him thank you ... and that I am sorry," she said as she steeled herself to face the dark unknown. "Thank you, also." And with a sad smile she disappeared into the black wilderness of the Western Wreath.

  Yasen walked back into the thick of the commotion, eyeing the black dirt of the earthen floor that was slick with an oily, red sheen.

  "Where is the Wreather woman?" Tahd asked him.

  Yasen hardened his face, and with his lone eye he narrowed his gaze and met the stare of the short, silver-haired captain. "Isn't that the concern of your men, Captain? My men and I ... we are here for the timber, we are here for the light—not for prisoners."

  "There was much we could have learned from her," Tahd countered. "You know that, and you let her get away."

  "I didn't let her do anything," Yasen retorted. "Next time it might be wiser to try conversation instead of just resorting to cords and shackles." He let out a frustrated sigh and ran his hand through his dark beard. "What do you intend to do with him?"

  Before Tahd could answer, the sound of a violent scream and the smell of burning flesh filled the dark, smoky, night air, and the assault of the senses punctuated the tension of the moment. "That all depends on if my knight lives or not," Tahd ominously answered. "Sergeant!" he shouted.

  "Yes, Captain?" the broad-chested guardsman replied.

  "Take Pyrrhus' night patrol. Get back on your horses and see about finding and keeping that Wreather woman this time," Tahd ordered.

  "Yes, sir. Right away, sir," the sergeant replied.

  "Well," Seig said in mock surprise as he strode angrily towards the two of them. "It would seem that we are not alone here in this wilderness after all. The woman ... have you found her yet?" he asked the captain.

  "The night patrol has just left to search for her," Tahd answered.

  "What did the fool Pyrrhus say about her, huh?" Seig continued. "Was she alone? Was she armed? Did he find a settlement or a village?"

  "I ... he ... I am not sure," Tahd stammered out his reply. "That damned groomsman lopped off his arm before he could report much of anything." It was in that moment that a great realization came to the captain as he replayed the incident in his mind. "That groomsman of yours?" he said to the chieftain of the woodcutters. "How did the Wreather woman know his name?"

  Seig narrowed his dark gaze at the one-eyed woodcutter, inspecting him with unveiled suspicion. "Was this not the same groomsman we sent out to scout the wilderness?" the governor asked.

  "Yes," Tahd said angrily. "Yes, he was. Perhaps we should pay your groomsman a visit? Eh, woodcutter?"

  "You do understand that this colony and our whole effort here to harvest timber enough for our city does and will continue to require a skilled groomsman," Yasen said boldly to the governor, his voice barely able to conceal the protective edge. "You would be best served to be prudent in your dealings with the few men we have here that are able and willing to aid our cause."

  "Careful, woodcutter," Seig cautioned with disdain. "You presume to talk too freely. I am not one of your fur-clad axe men, nor will I lower myself to take council from the likes of your kind."

  "My kind?" Yasen said in angry amusement. "It is by the strength of my kind, my brothers, my fur-clad axe men, that this colony of yours will have any hope of the glory you so seek."

  "Your disrespect will cost you, woodcutter!" Tahd barked in wounded offense.

  "Pyrrhus is a fool. It is men like him, your men, Captain, that we can do without—but a groomsman, we cannot," Yasen continued.

  "That's enough," Seig seethed quietly. "If you and your axe men are so keen on saving this city of ours, then you had best see about the timber and leave the matters of the colony to me." Seig looked to his captain. "It is time we hear a scouting report, Captain. Come, let's see what this groomsman has to say."

  "Yes, Governor," Tahd agreed.

  "Three days, woodcutter," Seig threatened him. "Groomsman or not, the hold of that ship will be filled with timber, of that you had best be certain."

  "Certain?" Yasen asked sarcastically. "The same way you were certain that we could outrun that storm?"

  Seig just stared, and contempt for his dependency on this man seethed out from his gaze. "Three days," he said and then turned, his black cape catching the wind as he strode off angrily towards the prison hold.

  Yasen stood there in the center of the square, worried both for his friend and for that violet and yellow-eyed woman. "What would you do, Hollis?" he asked under his breath, but his ruminations were interrupted by a familiar voice.

  "Is she going to be alright, North Wolf?" Goran asked with concern. "The woman, I mean?"

  "I know who you meant, brother," Yasen replied. "Not if Tahd's men find her first, she won't."

  "Who is she, then, that Cal would dare defy the whole company to keep her safe?" Goran mulled aloud. "I mean, sure ... she is pretty enough, but she must be somebody more than a pretty face to risk the governor's wrath like that. Ha!" Goran blurted out in self-amusement. "Either that or he's just a damned fool. Though my guess says it is probably a bit of both."

  Yasen let out a breathy grunt of a laugh before he spoke. "I need you to find her for me. Well ... for Cal."

  Goran stared and nodded at his chieftain. "Me? Well, aye, I guess it
can't be you, can it?

  Yasen shook his head and exhaled a deep, weary breath. "Something tells me that you are right, my old friend, that there is more to her than her pretty smile, and my gut tells me that Cal has an inkling as to what that something is."

  "Do you know where she is?" Goran asked.

  "There is a cave on the edge of the forest line, a few hundred paces into the trees. Hopefully she is still there. Tell her that you are a friend to Cal, and that he sent you to keep her safe," Yasen told him.

  "And who is going to keep him safe, huh?" Goran asked with a pained glance at the prison hold.

  Yasen thought about it for a moment. "I'll do my best for that boy, I owe him as much," he said with forced playfulness. "Besides, I would hate to see the governor get his hands dirty trying to shoe one of Cal's horses."

  "Now that would be a sight, wouldn't it?" Goran bellowed out a laugh. "Poor horses!"

  The two woodcutters locked arms and Yasen whispered a goodbye. "Thank you for this. I'll see you on the tree line come morning."

  "Mind you bring me a loaf of bread and a skin of mead, huh?" Goran said with a wink.

  "Aye, maybe two skins," Yasen agreed.

  The two brothers parted ways, one towards the timber gates and the other towards the prison hold. As Yasen passed the stables, his eye was caught by the faintest, azure glow peeking out from underneath the exposed rafters.

  "Deryn," he whispered.

  Chapter Twenty