by David Debord
“They will go for the gates at the same time—both the main and the postern.” Rayburn cleared his throat and spat over the wall. “They’ll spread us thin and look for any opportunity to break through. Once they get a toehold in the city...” He didn’t need to finish his sentence. Without the walls for protection they would quickly succumb to Kyrinian’s superior numbers.
Larris looked up and down the ramparts, appreciating for the first time how severely their ranks had been depleted. New faces had appeared to take up the defense of the city: old men, young boys, and women. None of them should have been needed to fight, but everyone seemed to understand this was their last chance. He had been pleasantly surprised to find virtually no dissension in the ranks. Given their present circumstances, he had expected more people to advocate surrender. The Galdorans’ deep-seated hatred and distrust of the Kyrinians appeared to have won out.
No sooner had that thought passed through his mind than a loud voice rang out from somewhere close by.
“We must surrender! Surrender or we will surely die!”
Larris looked around and saw a man in Temple robes walking along the battlements. The defenders watched him go by and Larris could tell by the expressions on their faces that some of them were close to following his instructions.
“Someone needs to close his mouth,” Larris said. His patience with the Temple was at an end.
Allyn drew his bow and took aim at the priest.
“Not like that.” Larris pushed the bow down. “Not everything I say is a direct order.”
“I’ll remember that.” Allyn lowered his bow.
Larris managed a smile and shook his head
The priest’s gaze fell upon Larris and his eyes widened. He pointed a bony finger in the prince’s direction.
“You! What have you done with the archpriest? Where is he?”
“The archpriest is performing his duties as a member of the Regis,” Allen shouted. “You should be about your duties as well. There are wounded who need your care.” The temple priests had been helping to care for the wounded.
“There would be no wounded if you would see reason. We cannot fight so many. Your hubris will kill us all.”
“You want to surrender?” Larris asked. “Very well.” He turned to Rayburn. “Put him in a catapult and send him to the Kyrinians so that he may negotiate surrender terms.” The priest blanched, turned, and ran. Larris laughed, but he had no time to savor his small victory.
“Everyone down!” Rayburn shouted.
The Kyrinian’s war machines had opened fire again. Huge boulders hurtled through the air, crashing against the city walls. One struck close to where Larris stood. He felt the ground quake beneath his feet and shards of broken stone flew through the air, peppering him with tiny, sharp fragments. Under cover of the attack, the siege engines rolled forward, supported by the mass of Kyrinian troops.
“Archers hold your fire!” Rayburn shouted as a few nervous defenders released arrows that fell well short of their intended targets. “Wait until they are in range. I will give the order.”
The Galdorans catapults opened up. One managed to find its target, smashing a siege engine. A cry of alarm went up from the Kyrinian ranks as the siege engine toppled into their tightly-packed ranks. The other catapults missed their targets but the boulders they hurled tore holes in the Kyrinian line, holes that were immediately filled by more soldiers. As the siege engines drew within bow range, the defenders sent flaming arrows at their targets. Some found purchase in the wooden towers and began to smolder.
In response, the Kyrinian archers raked the wall with their own hail of arrows. Cries of pain up and down the line told Larris that some had found their marks. With a roar, the front ranks of the Kyrinian troops charged forward. Though the enemy archers continued to fire, the defenders stood bravely, giving back as good as they got. All along the line, Kyrinian soldiers fell. Larris grimaced at the bloody work.
“Ladders!” Someone shouted
The first rank of Kyrinians had reached the wall and were throwing up siege ladders. The defenders immediately responded. Women and children tossed stones and any other heavy objects they could find down onto the attackers while men used long poles to push the ladders away from the walls. Larris saw a young woman raise a burning oil lamp above her head, ready to fling it down onto the enemy when an arrow took her in the throat. She collapsed without making a sound, a look of surprise filling her dying eyes. The lamp shattered, spilling burning oil all-around. Larris turned away, wincing. It was not the first tragic death he had seen during the battle, nor would it be the last
Though none of the soldiers bearing ladders had breached the walls, they had served their purpose, occupying the defenders so that the siege towers could be rolled into place. Three towers had made it across the battlefield intact and now their doors fell open, forming drawbridges that led onto the city walls. The sounds of hand-to-hand fighting rose up all around as defenders were forced to abandon their posts in order to meet this new threat. Down below, a thunderous crash told Larris that the enemy was also battering at the front gates. They wouldn’t last much longer
“Your Highness!” A young man in the uniform of a city guard ran up to him, made a hasty bow, and dropped to one knee.
“There’s no time for that! What is it?”
“The enemy broke through the postern gate. We drove them back and got it closed again.”
“Then why are you telling me? We have a battle to fight.”
“The enemy didn’t actually break through. Some of our own opened the gate for them. They were men from the temple.” He paused and drew in a long, ragged breath. “They were shouting something about it being time for the Seven to give way to the One.”
Larris didn’t have time to suss out exactly what that meant. Save for the fact that he now had proof that the Temple was on the Kyrinian side.
“Our officers are dead and the one they call “Hair” is in charge. He wants to know your orders.”
“Tell him to hold a few of the temple men for questioning, and kill anyone else who even looks like he is attempting to aid the enemy. Take no further prisoners.”
The youth gave a single nod, hopped up, and dashed away.
“Not that it will matter,” Larris muttered. He could no longer deny it. The battle was almost over, and they had lost.
Somewhere in the distance a horn sounded its tinny note. Probably Kyrinian reinforcements. He looked around at the defenders who now fought with desperation against the men who had breached the walls. He saw Hierm run a man through, kick the body off of his sword, and turn to face two more Kyrinians. Beside him, Rinala, clad in her Monaghan garb, fought with two long knives.
He had led them all to their deaths. Had the priest been right? Was it his hubris that had brought them to this end? Should he have agreed to the enemy’s terms? He supposed it didn’t matter now. Tightening his grip on his sword, he strode into the thick of the fight. If he was to die, he would take as many Kyrinians with him as he could
The horn sounded again, this time closer. Someone grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. It was Allyn. His friend was shouting something, but Larris could not make it out, so great was his rage and battle lust. He shook his head and tried to focus.
“What do you say?”
This time, Allyn’s words swam through the fog in Larris’ mind.
“It’s Lerryn!”
Larris looked in the direction Allyn pointed and let out a triumphant shout. A new army had appeared on the horizon, and though he could not see the face of its leader, he could make out the banner of the White Fang, Lerryn’s elite unit.
“Van Derin told us that Lerryn had gathered only a modest force, a ragtag one at that,” Allyn said. “But those are regular troops, and plenty of them. How is it possible?
“I don’t care. What matters now is that we hold the city. We can’t give up now.” As loudly as he could, he cried out, “Prince Lerryn has arrived! We are saved! Figh
t! Fight for your prince and rightful king!” Sword held aloft, he ran along the walls shouting words of encouragement. Behind him, he could hear Allyn doing the same. Soon the defenders echoed his cries and the message ran along the walls ahead of him until he no longer needed to spread the word himself.
Heartened by this stroke of good fortune, the defenders struck back with vigor. The attack began to falter. Down below, the Kyrinians heard the war horns and were now aware of a new army at their backs. Larris watched as their officers attempt to rally the troops to meet this new threat.
The newly-arrived Galdoran army closed in. Arrows flew and black and gold-clad men fell. The two forces closed in on one another, and as the Galdoran foot soldiers charged into the ranks of Kyrinian’s, a contingent of cavalry broke away, circled the Kyrinian flank and swept along the wall, driving the attackers away from the front gate. Another unit veered off in the opposite direction, most likely heading for the postern gate.
Their main force now caught between the city walls and a superior force of Galdorans, the Kyrinians, who had seemed on the verge of taking the city, began to drop their weapons and call for surrender. A tumult arose along the city walls as the defenders rejoiced. Larris caught Allyn up in a rough embrace, and then turned to clasp hands with Rayburn, who scrubbed his teary eyes with a bloody sleeve. He saw Hierm and Rinala embrace, and relief flooded him that his friends have survived. He hoped Hair and Edrin had survived the fight at the rear gate.
Down below, he spotted Lerryn looking up at the walls and when their eyes met his brother grinned and raised his sword in salute. The defenders began to shout Lerryn’s name, singing the praises of the prince who had rescued them in their direst hour. Larris smiled. His brother would be a beloved king.
The tenor of the chant began to change. Larris felt hands grabbing him, and then he was hoisted up into the air. He realized that the people who are no longer calling Lerryn’s name, but his own.
“Come on, Larris,” Allyn chided. “At least give them one smile.”
Relief flooding through him, Larris raised his fists above his head and cried out in exultation. They had done it!
Chapter 40
Larris met his brother at the gate. Despite the dirt, sweat, and blood that marred Lerryn’s face, the first prince looked vigorous. Whatever changes his time away had wrought, they had been for the better.
Smiling, Lerryn slid down off his horse and embraced his brother.
“I am so happy to see you,” Larris said. “I had heard you were still alive, but I dared not believe it.”
“I’ve never felt more alive.” Lerryn didn’t elaborate, but Larris took his brother’s meaning. “There is someone you should meet.” He gave a mysterious grin and motioned to a man who had just dismounted. “This is Colin Malan.”
It took a moment for the name to register with Larris. “You’re Shanis’ father.”
“That I am.” Colin Malan was a veritable bear of a man: large, dark, and powerfully built. But his smile was genuine, and his dark eyes friendly. “I understand you and my daughter are friends.”
“Yes sir, we are.”
Colin laughed. “A prince calling me ‘sir.’ Now that is not something that happens every day. It is a pleasure to meet you, Highness.”
“Please, call me Larris.” He offered his hand and tried not to wince at Colin’s powerful grip. “After all, you are the father of a queen.”
Colin’s eyes widened. “I had not heard.”
“I don’t know all the details, but sources tell me Shanis has taken the throne of Lothan.”
“That is good. I hope I will be able to see her soon.” He glanced at Lerryn, whose expression had turned grave.
“We have much to discuss,” Lerryn said.
“Indeed we do,” Larris agreed. “Let us speak alone for a moment.” He and his brother drew away and Larris broke the news of their father’s death. Lerryn’s expression did not change, but Larris could see the hurt in his brother’s eyes.
“I wish he had lived long enough to see that I’ve changed. There is much about my past I’m ashamed of.”
“He never stopped loving you,” Larris said. “There is more I need to tell you, much more, but we can talk as we walk.”
Escorted by a contingent of city guard, Larris, Lerryn, Colin, Hierm, Rinala, a young man named Kelvin, who seemed to be Lerryn’s ward of sorts, and Tabars, whom Larris learned was the only remaining member of the original White Fang, made their way to the palace. Along the way, Larris filled his brother in on the situation with the temple, the letter of abdication, and the status of the regency. Once inside the palace, they spoke briefly in private. By the time they left the room, they had formulated a plan.
Jowan sprang to his feet as soon as Larris opened the door of the chamber where the Regis was being held.
“You have held us prisoner here long enough! I will...” His words died in his throat when his eyes fell on Lerryn.
“Your Highness, it is a great relief to see you alive.” Mazier rose from his seat and bowed deeply.
Jowan recovered himself quickly. “Indeed it is. Forgive me, but your brother’s behavior has been most unseemly. He has imprisoned us here with no news of what transpires outside these walls.”
“Imprisoned?” Lerryn glanced at Larris before turning back to the men at the table. “That is a serious accusation you have leveled against my brother.”
“We are here, aren’t we? You can see with your own eyes.”
“What I see is that my brother has taken steps to keep the members of the Regis safe while he lays his life on the line to defend this city. And since you are all still alive, it would appear that his efforts have been successful.”
Jowan gaped at Lerryn. “Highness, I assure you, our incarceration here was not voluntary.”
“I am certain what the archpriest means to say is that we were reluctant to remain here where we felt we were of no use,” Edwin said smoothly. “But we see the wisdom in his decision.”
Larris suppressed a smile. The silvermaster was one of the few whom he knew he could trust.
“I know we are all wondering,” Edwin continued, “how goes the battle?”
Lerryn and Larris exchanged glances. “You tell them,” Lerryn said.
“We won,” Larris said. “My brother and his army arrived just in time.”
“We were only in time because Prince Larris skillfully defended the city, keeping the enemy at bay until we arrived.”
Larris managed to maintain his dignity, but only just. Lerryn had never paid him a compliment about his leadership skills. “I’ve been meaning to ask you, how did you come by an army? The last we heard you had only a modest force at your disposal.”
“We should sit.” Lerryn motioned to the table. Not waiting for the others, he took the seat at the head and the others joined him. When they were all seated, he began. “Unfortunately, Rayburn and Hugo will not be joining us as they have duties to which to attend. The situation has changed dramatically. Kyrin has withdrawn its forces from our territory. I found myself at the head of an army only because we crossed paths as they made their way back to the city.”
“Why has Kyrin withdrawn and why have we not heard about it?” Mazier asked.
“You would have heard about it upon the army’s return. It is a new development.” Lerryn paused, his face grave. “As to why the enemy has given up the fight it is because they are now facing an invasion on their western frontier much like the one we faced a short while ago. In fact, Riza and Halvala are also fighting invaders, and I would not be surprised if forces are once again threatening the western borders of our nation and that of Lothan.”
“In that case it is essential that you assume the crown as quickly as possible,” Edwin said. “Ordinarily we would treat the occasion with greater fanfare and grant you the honors you richly deserve, but circumstances demand otherwise.”
Lerryn made a dismissive gesture. “It is not important. We have the defense of our na
tion to think of.”
Jowan cleared his throat and looked around nervously. “Highness, there is a small matter which must be resolved. A rumor is going about that you abdicated your position as heir to the throne.”
Lerryn looks surprised. “Who would spread such a rumor? Have they any proof?”
“We heard a rumor that there is a document, signed by you and witnessed by others.”
“Forging a document is a serious offense,” Lerryn said. “Forging a royal seal is punishable by death. If such a document exists, I should love to see it. I would take a personal interest in tracking down the forger.”
Jowan and Mazier exchanged glances. Larris wanted to laugh as he watched realization dawn on their faces. If they produced the document now, they would not only have to explain how they came by it, but defend themselves against an accusation of forgery.
Jowan was not yet ready to surrender. “Your brother witnessed your abdication, as did his manservant, the entirety of White Fang, and at least one other. You surrendered your position before you went west to fight the invaders.”
Lerryn slowly turned his head, eyebrows raised and gazed at the archpriest, who quickly withered under the Prince’s stare.
“At least, that is the rumor,” he added weakly.
“A rumor that can easily be put to rest.” Lerryn slapped his palms on the table. “Brother, did you witness me abdicate my position as First Prince?”
“I did not.” It was a lie, and it pained Larris to tell it, but he knew it was the right thing to do. Lerryn was the man to lead Galdora. His brother had changed for the better.
“I regret to say that only one member of the White Fang survived the battle in the west. He has taken it upon himself to guard my person and is standing outside right now.”
Larris went to the door and summoned Tabars. The grizzled veteran looked out of place here, but he faced the Regis with the same confidence he displayed in battle.
“Ask him,” Lerryn said to Mazier.
The vizier cleared his throat. “Did you witness His Highness abdicate his position as First Prince of Galdoran?”