by M.Y. Roger
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
THE FALL OF MYTHIA
“The wind seems fair, but I hear in it a cry long unheard in the realm of men. It brings the battle chants of the Ibis lords, the foul might of Gur-lotta, but it is only a foretaste of what will come. For behind Carn-dunn the mighty stroke of Sondon has been mustered.” Roc the king said. From behind the battlement of Tirbane, as he peered far north upon the turbulent waters of the Isis on whose fuming tides asp ships out of Gur-lotta were sailing, with their dark sails bellying in the wind not a day away from the shores of Torgarmah.
“My lord, I hear word now comes from Milnor.” Amroth captain of Tirbane said. The king turned to him with the pallor of one who had already envisaged defeat. Although he was known as a valiant man, but it was now obvious that his valour was of no match for the fear that now consumed him from within. Without saying a word he left the battlement where many fair knights stood beneath the warbling banners, watching as the ships came to harbour.
Down a stony flight of stairs beside a wall the king went to the hall of Theorbane where his marshals and allies from Maul, Porsa and Comorus awaited.
“All hail the king!” the herald cried, and the once tumultuous hall of vociferous voices went silent into mutterings. The subjects bowed as he went to take his seat at the head of the table of Oilus where great kings before had sat, the king remained silent and his head was bowed. At his right was Amroth, clad in war gear and his helm of silver beneath his armpit, his face grim and full of strength. To the kings left sat Thurin-mill of the guards of the golden hall, grey with age, but much wisdom would be found in him than the strength of arms.
“Call in the rider from Milnor.” Amroth ordered. “Though evil tidings he brings but it must be heard for it is its hour.” A soldier ran out. Finally the king raised his head to behold the gloomy faces of his nobles who had gathered to him in this dark hour.
“I greet you Arus and Arioch of Maul, for you have come to honour the old alliance between Maul and Mythia.” He said.
Arus arose from his seat and paid obeisance to the king and his knights. A hefty man he was, with long brown curly beard that flowed onto his chest, his eyes were dim and his head bald and wore no helm. “Great are the knights of Mythia and their king. We of Maul know that any battle fought at the dales of Comorus will in no time come to the meadows of Maul except we forge our strength together. Though we have no king after the last was murdered with his household by the accursed, Aardoo, who now strengthens the black hands of Sondon, and now leads the assault. We have come for vengeance to rid ourselves of the name, “the kingless house of feebles.” He said emphatically and took his seat heavily.
“Ere our long ride from Maul, words came to us of a mustering of might out of Fysia, perhaps the king has called upon the Fysians to come to his aide.” Arioch of Maul said, a man of much height, fair to behold with a soft voice unlike the deep one of Arus his kin.
“I have not sent any word or emissary to the Fysia or Iop in decades, ever since they proved themselves to be collaborators of mischief, but I deem the young prince who now rules that land is not of the stock of old, for once he had sought an alliance with me.” Roc said.
“My lord, Horton sends word.” Thurin-mill finally said. “He says, though his strength is little, but still even a child could help an iron clad warrior to fasten his greaves.” The king nodded with a deep look of satisfaction on his hard face. The butler came in with wine in a jar of gold, but the king beckoned onto him to be gone and leave the goblets empty.
“The king desires no wine tonight, except when this evil is trounced, save the wine in honour of those to die for many will.”
“My lord the scout brings word.” A captain said and bowed deeply. The king motioned with his hand. Standing beneath a torch that stood in the bracket on a pillar, the scout stood dishevelled and panting, for he was weary from a long ride.
“My lord from Milnor of Torgarmah I ride.” He gasped half reclining on the pillar.
“What have you seen?” the king asked anxiously. “Speak! I bid you.”
“A great host my lord, Asp ships! Ships with black sails with the emblem of the Peat isle of Gur-lotta crowded with the foul host of Ibisia. From the bastion of the watchtower, the ships were uncountable and endless.” He gasped.
“Let him have his rest. I have heard enough. The might of Ibisia is not new to any here neither the reach of its powers.” The king said and sat back heavily on his seat, a hand beneath his chin and for a moment he seemed to be lost in a dark thought unaware of all. “This is more than the foul host of Gur-lotta as I have long feared, for it seems Aardoo has gathered many more out of the hordes of Carn-dunn.”
“This is no time to despair my lord; we must hold onto our defences and make the shores of Tirbane too bitter to tread upon for the Ibis.” Thurin-mill said, and for once the hopes of the knights went to the Fysians whom word had were on the warpath to their aid. But they were oblivious that their hopes now rested on a band of traitors, long bought by Ibisia, who were coming to hasten their downfall.
In the dead of the night, the king returned to the battlements overlooking the Isis to the north. The faint white crescent waned to the north in a starless night, just like the world of men, lone and enshrouded in a waxing darkness. Tirbane was quiet beneath the gloom of an impending battle long feared in the world of men. From the turrets the vague figures of watchers could be seen pacing about watchfully, a smooth and cool breeze blew from the south which seemed to whisper evil to their ears. Then came the faint rap of ascending footsteps and clinking of mail, and looking back the king saw Thurin-mill rise above the steps, as his hair shimmered in the wind.
“My lord the thought of impending battle bereaves all of sleep.” Thurin-mill said and faltered on the parapet and peered at the king, for a moment the king said no word but peered towards the north as if he could feel the breath of Ibisia, hot and foul upon his face.
“My thoughts stray away to two whom I have greatly wronged.” The king said with much grief.
“Whom do you speak of my lord?” Thurin-mill asked, for it was evident that in the heat of events he had forgotten about Horace and Heres.
“The lad Heres and his father.” The king said. Thurin sighed deeply and his head fell. “Death must have overtaken them as we all had foreseen.” He paused. “And my only child has sworn to love no man but him; I fear that in the heat of all darkness when all hope is lost, she too would harm herself and bring the house of my fathers to an end. Who knows they might have divulged the secrets of their precarious mission under the cruel tortures of the Ibis, I fear I have only sent Horace to meet his secret ally Aardoo. And in their combine plot they have mustered a massive army, for he knows our strength.”
“You harbour too much fear for a king going to battle at dawn, my lord. Do not be disheartened for you must imbue your men at that hour when all hopes fail.” Thurin-mill said patting the king’s shoulder. And quietly they retuned to their sordid beds.
Before dawn the men were roused from their beds by the blare of horns. The alarms were sounded and running helter skelter with weapons at hand they ran for the battlements to man the post. Peering north they saw nothing but the white foam of tides upon the roaring sea, for the sea had become tempest as if some power of old had come to their rescue to avenge them on the Ibis. The night was breaking and the wind had changed course and now it now favoured the attackers, hurrying their assault,
“Lights! Ibis fire! Asp ships!” The watchmen proclaimed from the highest tower.
“Prepare the defences!” the king ordered. “At last we have come to it, the very fears of our fathers, but we shall put the Ibis to the test by the edge of the sword forged out of the bitterness of our age.” From the darkness that veiled the north a fading light flickered, a few moments later over a hundred of such lights glinted like stars in an open night, spreading east to west for many leagues.
“At dawn this battle will commence.” Thurin-mill said
ruefully. “Though they are many leagues away but their ships are borne on a swift wind.”
The last preparations were hurriedly made now that the enemy had been sighted. Men rallied to their ranks, horsemen charged up stirring all to the defence. Gradually the dawn continued to break, but unlike other days it was to be a day of bloodshed, and even then the north seemed ominously dark in the first gleam of dawn, the dark sails bellied in the wind, it was a great fleet unlike those in the days of the first invasion when Sondon came to contest the might of Surrucia, and as they approached men quailed with a new fear at the powers of Ibisia, for they had no conjurer of any sort to withstand the wiles of the abominable Aardoo.
“I have seen the arm of Sondon, the hand of Cyran and the fingers of Aardoo for though it is wrought of steel and wield great power, nevertheless with our puny strength we will attempt to sunder it.” The king said steely.
“This is an army ten times our number, Krocs from the farthest north, and blood thirsty Ibises.” Thurin-mill said.
Clamouring jeers rose from the ships, ghastly voices of a foul horde, so strident that it silenced the rumbling of the sea, with the intent to dismay all that heard it into a rout. The men stood aghast none blenched for the king was like an oak tree which no boisterous wind could uproot in the frontier of his realm.
A league away to the shore the Ibis ships threw their anchors into the sea, and rolled up their sails. there beyond the range of the archers, they stood in battle readiness singing ominous war songs. Perhaps a strange fear had seized them, when they beheld the ranks of tenacious men who feared no slaughter. But a single ship of Ibisia ran into the shores, its gangplank fell into the water with a loud splash revealing the evil lord of Gur-lotta. Below his dark swirling banner he stood behind him the grimmest Kroc any man had ever beheld.
Aardoo came on shore he bore no weapon but his staff, all marveled and were dismayed at the despicable creature he had become. A half man to the right and a half Ibis to the left, an accursed being of no honour.
Aardoo approached imperiously like a marshal sent to receive his lord’s tax.
“Are you that rabble of a king, lord of a wretched folk and ruins?” He asked the king contemptuously, but the king remained silent perchance it was the wretchedness of Aardoo that had stunned him.
“Aardoo!” he called in a whisper. “What a curse!”
“Indeed Roc your arrogance now precedes you that in your great folly you have conspired to uproot me.” Aardoo began trenchantly. “Well it worked, but for a while, for there is still power in Ibisia to give life to one that is much esteemed like me, for in your sniveling you contrived against me. But Aardoo would not fall by any sword wielded by a mere mortal, I fell by my own powers, and I was lost in the darkness. Then I awoke in Kirrin-dunn in the hands of him whom you all tremble to call; now I walk the earth more powerful than ever. My tower rebuilt from the rubbles and the sons of Zek, Horace and his son they will now endure the slow torments of the dungeons of Isenmorg in the best contrivance of the dark arts.” He entreated mischievously after which he proceeded to laugh to his fill in his insolence.
“Go back to your ship or I shall slay you first you insolent emissary of Sondon!” the king snarled.
“I am no emissary, for death is his emissary. Prepare your graves for I will fill the vales of Rimmon with your dead, and I shall fall every tree from here to Ain to build a siege mound against that city. The rivers of the Anuivale shall run red with your blood and I will pile up your dead as high as the Grey mountains.” Aardoo said scornfully. Mostly to taunt and mock, then raising his hand that clasped his scepter aloft his head in a sign, he motioned onto his fell captains, and as the hand came down so were the gangplanks hurled off the ships.
A vociferous jeer arose as Ibis and Krocs, the most truculent host of Carn-dunn and Gur-lotta charge into the water, wading fiercely for the battle.
“Archers! Give ‘em a volley!” Amroth cried. The bows twanged and arrows whistled and whined onto the invaders, many were struck and fell into the water only to be trampled by those whose lust for battle was far more insatiable.
“Fi-i-i-re!’ A hoarse voice cried and a volley of arrows rose from the battlements of Tirbane and like a dark cloud it showered upon the Ibis. Like an overwhelming tide from a broken dike the Ibis came, led by the grimmest of Krocs of Isenmorg, a sight whose dread overcame the courage of men like fat thrown into the fire. The ringing sound of clashing steel and a rumble broke out as the Ibis crashed into the defending ranks. And for the first time in more than a hundred years after the fall of Surrucia, the much anticipated battle of this age now raged.
Brutish and savage was the manner at which the Ibis fought, fraught with evil malice they fought recklessly. But despite their vicious barrage men were better swordsmen and had a reason to die unlike them, and this proved ill against the teeming horde of Ibisia.
Aardoo sat upon a high seat which was borne upon the shoulders of four Krocs. With a sardonic grin he watched the battle unfold with much amusement. For it was clear that before noon the fighters of Mythia would have been overwhelmed, Tirbane sacked and razed. For even as he watched he could see the banners of men crumble in the heat of battle while more than half of his army were yet to see battle. Indeed men have only begun to feel the scourge of his master, he said to himself.
“Late will be the hour when those slimy maggots, who call themselves allies choose to appear, perhaps the Fysians will find none to slay, fools! They might have to clear the battle field for my army to advance towards Ain.” He said boastfully and the captains that stood about him reeled out in a mocking laughter. “Where is that rat, a beggar of a king who calls himself lord, for I swear by noon on the morrow I would have made the halls of his fathers like the tombs of Neron.” But even as he spoke insolently, an arrow whistled and struck one of the Krocs on whose shoulder he was borne. The Kroc tottered and with a choking moan fell. The seat lost its balance and fell with a crash.
Aardoo found himself in a horrid place as dark as the chambers of Kirrin-dunn. The sun was crimson coloured, the earth was parched and dust billowed to choke him.
A light flashed above his head and peering up he caught the grim face of a Suroc that was half veiled in the darkness. Aardoo cowered backwards upon hidden stones, and even as he grovelled the mighty hand of the Suroc fell ominously upon him and continued to smother him. With a cry of anguish he found himself on the battle ground, clutching onto his neck and screaming and writhing as he returned from his dark trance, the Ibis about him were stunned.
The armies of Carn-dunn proved invincible, and too bitter to be thrown back to their ships. And as the sun reached midday the defenders were now pressed against the walls of Tirbane, soon to be caught in the implacable grasp of Aardoo. Fiercely they repelled, but their valiant effort was to no avail for it seemed they floundered against a wall of steel. And even as it seemed Aardoo would reach out to take victory for himself, the riders of Fysia rode into battle with the blare of horns and the din of clattering hooves. Routing the invaders to the sea, and would not suffer them to have a glimpse of victory, in the rout that followed the king and his men joined in the charge until they came to the shores. Watching as the Ibis wade wearily for their ships, but it was an ingenious stratagem by Aardoo for none could contend against the craftiness of his devices. Now having his foes within his reach surrounded by his hidden allies, Horton was to give the sign which would bring his armies back again for the final assault and the sacking of Tirbane.
Now faltering on his sword, the king stood surrounded by his weary captains, for it had been fierce fight and only a few were unscathed and even as he watched the Ibis flee mindlessly for their ships he knew that victory for him would be short lived, for once the armies of Ibisia regrouped they would return, but never did he have a faint idea that he had now walked into a snare. Horton rode briskly with a company of riders whose armour glistened in the sun, and their horses were high and grim, great steeds of
the south.
“I greet you Horton!” the king saluted, raising his sword to his new ally. Horton raised his sword in answer even as he reined his horse towards the king. He rode near towards the king, when suddenly his grinning face turned sinister, his horse leapt into the air at the king and with a swing his bloodied sword swept through the air narrowly missing the king’s throat. The other captains were not so fortunate for many of them fell or were trodden upon.
A grim blast sounded and those who tended the wounded turned and slew them, the treachery of Fysia was at last revealed, and at the blare of horn calls the Ibis who seemed to flee returned to battle like a ravening host they hurled themselves into the battle more convulsively.
“Curse! Cursed! Are the horsemen of Fysia, who have allied themselves to the darkness for in it the rider shall grope and fall by it.” The king lamented as the affray came bitterly upon him. “Flee! Flee for the walls!” he cried. “Flee forth!” the horns of retreat blared dully, and with the hot assault upon their rear they fled for Tirbane, which was soon barricaded and besieged.
Thick columns of smoke accompanied with the reek of battle blackened the air; the Ibis went about unchecked plundering the slain. But mostly it was the detestable act of the Fysians that confounded all for at first they had come with aid of alliances and friendships, bringing hope in time of despair only to add salt to injury when the battle had gone sore, an evil beyond sacrilege.
Near and far the Fysians rode amongst the Ibis as they set up to build siege artilleries for the taking of Tirbane. Aardoo would not relent until Tirbane was taken, for it was a lesser fortification compared to those which had fallen into his hands before.
The king sighed deeply as he peered upon the teeming horde of Ibis that now moved unchecked beyond his wall. His face was caked in mud and blood, his crown he cast aside for it was of no use in such a dire hour. To his right was his blade still stained with the blood of his last adversary. He watched his men run helter skelter carrying the wounded.
“Never did I ever think we could be swept away so quickly.” He confessed.
“Perhaps we had underestimated the might of our adversary my lord.” Amroth said.
“No, I will rather say we underestimated the craftiness of Aardoo, for indeed he has proved a useful hand for his master against us.” Arioch said, his head bandaged and on his cheek a fleshy wound. “We must flee my lord, this fortification will not stand a siege, not for a night, we know it the Ibis know it.”
“The horses, we must ride out of here or Tirbane will be our grave. We must hold our post and keep the Ibis from the walls. At the second watch of the night under the cover of darkness, we retreat for Rimmon from whence we can come to Ain on safer roads.” The king said.
The Ibis war drums rolled and horns boomed, all about the shores of Tirbane Ibis ships were anchoring, with many more without harborage and out of them the invincible might of Ibisia sallied out. Battalions upon battalions that baffled the defenders, a great host like one only imagined in the kings darkest dreams, men sighed remorsefully for if Aardoo could muster such a force, what more will that of his dark master be? The woods were fell and great fires leaped in their midst.
Dusk was fast approaching when the Ibis resumed their fierce assault upon the wall; the gates of Tirbane quaked with every blow from the battering ram which was accompanied by the vociferous jeers of a horde of Krocs, boisterous Krocs out of Balragia now wielded the ram, clad in the thickest of amours that made the whining arrows look like rock hurled by a child. Their hoarse cries sounded sinister as they charged, clanked and yelled before the ram’s stroke. The fissures on the wall widened with every blow as men braced themselves to the gates only to be hurled back by the brute strength of the ram.
The horses were readied in their stables and the wounded fastened to the saddles while those who could still wield weapons stood to fight. The king and his captains peered hopefully into the waxing dusk, for only in the cover of dark could they elude the ravening host that stood beyond the wall. Every passing moment appeared endless as if a dark spell by Aardoo now held sway over the day, restraining the night until he had claimed victory at the shores.
The king ordered his army, archers and crossbow men to the battlements, while the most valiant men stood in ranks with drawn weapons, a blow came upon the gate and a rampart tumbled from above and laid in rubbles, another blow came with a horrendous growl and the gate was rent in two but it still stood quivering amidst its battered turrets. A more trenchant growl issued as the last stroke was hurled against the gate that it broke into two and was flung wide open to the invaders.
“Fi-i-i-re!” The captains cried, a volley of arrows whistled but only clanged upon a wall of dark shields and bucklers. An avalanche of Ibises poured in furiously, the clangour of clashing weapons rose as another fierce battle followed. Blinded by rage men fought valiantly to avenge themselves, although the onslaught went bitter against the Ibis their great numbers still proved ill to men, and as nightfall came the defenders were once again beginning to be overwhelmed.
The charge was sounded to retreat from the fallen fort, the riders mounted their steeds and charging out furiously through the ranks of the Ibis though many perished, but even at the ruins of the gate they were cut off by the main strength of the Ibis and when it seemed all hope had been lost and Tirbane had turned to their graves, the Morbid arrived, rangers of Iop they were of great reputation in the wars of old, coming from the darkness of the woods at the rear of the enemy, unlooked for they rode into the rear of the Ibis ranks and hurled their charge away, making room for the king and his men to flee from Tirbane.
The ride for Fagshold was weary, desperate and precarious for it was in the cover of dark and the assault upon the rear had not allayed. Both men and steeds were weary from a long battle which had spilled the best blood of Mythia. In the dead of night the king and his men rode across the fords of the Variag River, where no enemy would follow. Riding briskly they covered many odd leagues all night, at the first sight of dawn they came to Fagshold the stronghold at the threshold of the Rimmon Mountains.
The jaded riders alighted from their horses, some fainting while others lay in pains upon the cold pavement.
“Sirdan.” The king called in a gasp. “I owe you much, captain.” He said gladly.
“You owe me nothing my lord; it is my oath of fealty.” The dark hooded ranger answered, tall and grim he stood beside his horse, clad in a black cowl with the reins in his gloved hands, and behind him stood the proud admirable men of his company. “My lord, I bring Freanor and with him five hundred men, whose allegiance is not to Horton.”
The king and his men turned with a mistrustful look to the man whose dark lofty helm ringed his head.
“My lord!” Freanor said with a knee to the ground. “I beg to repay the evil of my land and lords for there are still a few who have not joined in the conspiracy of Horton.” He implored.
“What oaths will you now swear that I would hold onto, for every Fysian is as Aardoo and his master Cyran.” Roc said.
“There are a few my lord, like me and my men, and many more abroad who would come to your aid at my call, three days ago I sent a secret messenger to warn you, but when we received no word from you, we knew our message had not come to you, so we set out, and to our horror we found him dead, with two long dark feathered arrows sticking to his throat. My lord Horton is but a fool, a slave to the dark magic of Ibisia, but I have a strong fear that if Ain falls, Aardoo would fall hard on him when he least expects.”
“I cannot take your help master Freanor, be gone to your lands for this evil shall come there. I will look to my own defences with or without you.” The king said and turned to go.
“What if I should tell you, that the way from Fagshold across the Nair valley to your city is watched, an ambush awaits you.” The king halted and turned back. “My lord you must trust me for if ever you take that way you would only come to your city dead.” The Fysian captain im
plored plaintively.
“I fear he says the truth.” Amroth whispered.
“I fear you say that because we are outnumbered and you desperately need them, but it will be an incorrigible thing if we fall twice to the same ploy.” The king replied hotly in a hurried whisper. And turning back the king went to the upper chamber where he would meet his council for further deliberations.
Before noon the council had ended, the horses were prepared and messengers were sent to all the realms in the lordship of the king, that all who could wield weapons take up arms and come to Ain while the women and children flee to the strongholds before they were caught by the ravening host. Freanor and his men got the kings trust when they came unlooked for and broke an ambush of Ibis and Fysians lurking on the way. Under the lowering clouds they took the southern roads, of over forty leagues to Ain through the great oak woods of Turgron upon the vale of Aenon. The gallops of their horse’s hooves were heard throughout the gap of Thundrin, on the borders of Turgron below the shadows of Guardfrost where the beacons were lit. Five leagues east of the Wislow woods they rested a while, and on again they rode hastily and on the second day after the fall of Tirbane, the king came to Ain with many distraught riders.
Hastily the defences of the city were ordered, the streets were deserted save for armed men who hurried to man the walls and outposts. The eventide was heavy and no summer wind would pass through the city from the north. Many came to the call of the king but as feared only a handful for most were reluctant and turned to look upon their own defences, and as darkness deepened many teams of wagons laden with people, old and young with the few belongings they could scavenge came slowly grinding through the Wislow roads heading for the city for refuge, and even as they came clambering in the dusk and the gloom that hung in the air, horsemen could be seen charging through the procession, messengers bringing ill words of the evil that now ravaged Comorus.
As dusk came, the gates were barred and none was suffered to leave the city or stay beyond its walls. The men camped in the precinct of the wall while the captains stood at the battlements planning stratagems to hurl back the assault of Aardoo, fires were lit on the walls, but no song of battle was sang, heavy clouds stood above the city with a few lightning but not a drop fell, possibly under the control of Aardoo the rains only relented to wash away the blood of the slain.
At this dark hour very few had come to their lord’s call, though the city defences were strong and could withstand a siege for it was built in the days when the strength of men was great but the defenders were lacking. Three thousand strong defenders, a force that could not withhold even the Fysians what more the ravening host of Ibisia, for most were slain at Tirbane and on the rout upon the dales of Comorus.
“Send the women and the children out of the city and arm any as found with the strength to wield a sword, for I will not suffer Aardoo to have his fill of bloodshed within the stones of my fathers.” The king said as he paced about the battlements, his plight now obvious to his men, for he was unfortunate to be king at the beginning of the dark days.
“My lord is there now a beacon at Fagshold, of Rimmon?” Sirdan the Morbid captain gasped as he peered north at the flickering lights that spurted at the dales of the Rimmon mountains, the king looked up slowly and even as he watched it seemed the end had suddenly dawned.
“That is no beacon!” a soldier exclaimed. “It’s the red fire of Ibisia, now it has come upon Fagshold just as it did to Tirbane.”
“Indeed the hands of Aardoo now draw nigh, now he has taken Fagshold, probably in the dead of the night Guardfrost, and at dawn he would stand before my walls unchallenged.” The king said.
“My lord a messenger awaits you.” Amroth said, with a bow. The king beckoned for him to be brought, and up the flight of stairs he came flanked by two who held him fast lest he falls from the weariness of a long ride, clad in a grey weather stricken cowl and smelt much of smoke, still panting he made obeisance.
“My lord wild men of Fysia and Ibis!” He said, and bending low he took a long gasp and stood again. “Every fastness at the dale has been overrun and razed, Fagshold now burns, and every village from Turgron to the river sacked, but I fear at dawn they will come to the city.” He said, the king sighed deeply and peered north, now he could see many distant spurts of wild fire in the far darkness that now veiled the north.
“One more thing my lord.” The messenger gasped.
“Speak!’ the king ordered without turning back.
“Siege towers my lord!” those words stunned the king that he turned with a frightful gaze.
“Aye my lord, Siege towers of Ibisia, made of steel not wood, I do not lie I swear! The ibis are dismantling their ships to build them.” The messenger cried for he feared he would not be believed due to the incredulous looks that beleaguered him. “Twenty to thirty my lord, with my very eyes did I see and count them at the gap of Thundrin.”
“Siege towers of Ibisia!” Thurin-mill exclaimed, nodding his head as he paced about with grave fear in his eyes. “Indeed the wizard king of Gur-lotta as he proclaims himself would not relent until he turns this city into a heap of ruins.” He muttered.
“We must hold them before the wall.” Amroth said.
“We do not have that strength.” Thurin-mill snapped. “But also we would not suffer any Ibis to reach our walls more or less breach it, for I can now remember a stratagem of the Suroc’s which they used against the siege towers and catapults at Gul-minnor, let every man cast aside his weapon for a while, pick up spades and meet me beyond the walls.”
In the first light of the morning, the distant bangs and wild throbs of drums could be heard from beyond the sombre woods that were veiled in a sullen mist. A single blast of horn that sounded in the keep of Ain, the men grasped their weapons and arrayed themselves into serried ranks upon the wall. A red sun rose from Moil, partly concealed in the mist that was mixed with swirling dark columns of smoke from many fires, dark smoke rose from the distant fringe of the woods, swirling menacingly above the woods, men quailed and blenched.
From the main road that ran north from the city a tumult of galloping horses could be heard, and moments later their standards unfurled in the air, and on them were displayed a red Balrog on dark scarlet, the banner of Carn-dunn in the hands of an Ibis chieftain who sat upon the saddle of his hound as many more of his company came, and their upsetting ranks opened.
The swirling columns of smoke gradually turned into siege towers, dark and ominous towering above the trees like pieces of turrets of an advancing wall, adorned with warbling standards, and a tumult of fell vociferous cries, singing songs of war in their hideous tongue. The main force of the Ibises soon filled the plain before the city, their weapons and gear glittering in the morning light, and to their right flank the accursed riders of Fysia issued to form ranks.
The king looked at the floundering faces of his men, they were definitely intimidated at the strength of Ibisia which made them appear as a child armed with a brittle twig assailing a mail-clad warrior. But even as he watched from the rear of the Ibis ranks, Aardoo issued on a beast never before seen by any man in this age, upon a Monoi behind its Kroc rider he stood, with a sarcastic grin upon his mutilated face, and behind him two other Monoi’s ridden by Kroc chieftains and dark towers upon their backs. Towards the wall they came to entreat insolently with ill boding words with the king and his men, he gave a long cold glance at the walls they were just as he had thought; they would not be too impregnable for his armies to breach.
“Call me that rabble, the son of Zocos that you call king.” He cried imperiously onto those that manned the wall. “Tell him the wizard king Gur-lotta. The traitor of men has come to entreat with him.” The king pulled up the visor and set his helm aside, and recognizing the king he let out a mocking sigh.
“What a facade of a stand this is, a mustering of every crone and feeble beyond your wall, soon you will feel the cold blade of Ibisia, cast off your weapons and swear
oaths of allegiance to my lord.” Aardoo said.
“We know you have no interest in slaves, you cursed, foul mouth of Sondon!” the king sneered with a stern look of great indignation on his face. “Save yourself the waste of time for none shall set a knee before your master more or less you.” And for a moment the piercing eyes of Aardoo looked about the walls of the city sinisterly as if he could discern a hidden danger, for he saw that fear had lessened on the face of the men on the wall. The Monoi rider pulled his reins and they returned to their lines.
“Fools! They count on the strength of their walls, mighty they may seem but I will beat the hewn stones of this city into dust.” He said coldly. “Begin the attack, hurl every artillery and siege tower to the wall, Ain must fall before dusk for I have seen her walls they are not stronger than those of my tower nor Basra.” He growled.
A great Kroc chieftain, the most stalwart of the stock of the north, grim to behold, clad in a black hauberk and a huge breastplate upon his chest, in his right he wielded an axe and in his left a great horn while his large round buckler hung behind him. Ahmus he was called, a captain of Balragia who was now lord of Tirbane which he had renamed Tidran after the mountain of fire of Tophel. The Ibis hailed and cheered for him for he was of much renown amongst them, he lifted his dark double bladed axe high that it towered above the unfurled banners and a deep silence came to the Ibis ranks.
“Bloo-o-od!” his deep stentorian voice rang out. “Death, hew them all, until none remains!” at that a vociferous tumult answered, so great was the uproar that the walls shook, the woods seemed to sway backwards to hide behind the mountains. Ahmus drew his horn and winded a great blast as he stretched his axe at the city, the ranks surged forward with the siege towers in front grinding towards the city while Ibis and Krocs groaned as they pushed, arrows rained on the attackers from the wall, many fell only to be trodden by the iron wheels of the towers, a rattle of impaling arrows could be heard clanging upon the towers of dark steel like the clatter of raindrops in a storm.
“Shields in front, shields in front! And above your heads you sluggards!” Ahmus growled, and all hurled their shields and bucklers before their breast as they drew near the city where the resistance was staunch, but this would not dismay the Ibis whose ranks appeared as an armoured serpent, gradually advancing to strike, the catapults on the walls hurled large projectiles of stones which came tumbling through the Ibis lines and knocking down a few of the towers.
Aardoo smiled for the resistance could not deter his advancing horde, soon the walls would be taken and the city sacked, he said to those who stood about him, and even as he spoke Horton rode briskly before him and behind him other captains of Fysia cantered.
“Stay your wrath my friends. There is enough to kill for every Ibis and Fysian.” Aardoo said flippantly.
“Why don’t we join in the assault against the wall?” Horton snarled. “We now fell like women who sing songs to men who go to battle.” Aardoo reeled out in laughter but it was not to mock them.
“Will the horse scale and topple the wall with its neigh, or will the horseman breach the wall with his charge? No, my friend I’ll give you a deal if we breach the wall you can ride in and slay as you wish.” He said smiling and took his seat with his face turned towards the wall, where three of his siege towers were now smoldering the air with dark columns of smoke as fires raged upon them.
“Push! Push! To the wall, all hands on the towers!” Ahmus cried from behind his large shield, his grim face was doused in sweat even as arrows whined past him.
The towers creaked and the Ibis that filled them groaned then came a crack and many cries and turning to the left flank about a league away, a tower tottered and swayed sideward with a loud thud it crashed upon the Ibis. To the right another plunged into the ground and as it tottered the Ibis in it cried and panicked and many fell upon the upright spears that were now revealed in the quicksand, “Flee!” Ahmus cried as a tower came crashing into another tower. A loud sundering crack and many splinters and shards clattering about amongst the mangled bodies of Ibis and Krocs, the Ibis turned to flee only to be impaled by many fusillades of arrows.
All about the wall of Ain the Ibis siege towers were tottering and crumbling into hidden trenches that were now revealed beneath the weight of the towers; the first assault was in a rout and was fleeing beyond the range of the archers on the wall. Aardoo watched in consternation as his brilliant stratagem was brought to ruins by the ingenuity of Thurin-mill, and all across the battlefield only the dead of the Ibis and Krocs could be seen strewn about with arrows sticking to their backs, he could hear the cheers on the wall, how they mocked him and move him to great indignation, how could he not have seen this coming? He continued to ask himself.
“Match three companies to the gates and batter it.” He growled at Ahmus, the Kroc captain turned upon his ranks, with an emphatic sign. And a long carriage of wood and steel came grinding from the rear through the ranks, driven by the brute strength of the Krocs from within with their shields hanging to the side of the carriage. Ahmus stood in front behind the giant wheel of wood, and slowly it went towards the city with a tumult of hoarse voices bellowing from beneath. The carriage was a cynosure to the men on the walls and the Fysians, for none had ever seen such an armament of war, the archers were ordered to stop shooting for their arrows were ineffectual against the carriages that were slowly advancing towards the gate.
The catapult on the farthest turret on the wall rolled, and hurled a large projectile that whined in the air with a tail of smoke, it crashed upon the last carriage and sundered it into two, bursting aflame. The Krocs beneath hurried out of the wreckage in flames, tossing their weapons as they ran for the safety of their lines but were soon overwhelmed by the impaling arrows. The first carriage had now reached the gate, and even as they assembled the battering ram, the men in the turrets above the gate began to pour barrels of hot moat upon the carriage, the Ibis cried from within the carriage for they now wished to flee the reek and frying heat of the moat to save their skin, and peering above they saw to their horror a soldier running with a torch aloft his helmed face down across the battlement towards them.
“Flee!” Ahmus cried for the second time that day, the Ibis broke company and dispelled in all directions like a scattered brood of bees. The torch was hurled off the wall, and all of a sudden there came a blast that sundered wood and steel, hurling bodies into the air. A fierce fire now raged with blinding smoke that made the invaders to grope in the day, and with a hideous cry of defeat the Ibis retreated from the wall, now battle shy they fled for the safety of their lines.
Twice beaten today by the ingenuity of the men, Aardoo remained confounded, the imperious look on his face had long vanished. Horton stood by the stirrups of his horse in astonishment and a deep grimace on his face, but now he wished he had not partook in the unsuccessful assault, for at this moment he had thought they would be pillaging the city and sharing the spoils of war, and here they were stranded and frustrated with defeat glaring at their faces, also dissension was beginning to stir in his ranks. Horton turned to the so called proclaimed wizard king of Gur-lotta and was about to ask if despite all of his powers and craftiness this was all he could contrive or conjure, but he restrained himself for his will was under the sway of Aardoo.
“Get me my Monoi!” Aardoo’s voice ordered. “Let me take a ride to the city and behold the faces of her defenders, a bunch of feebles and crones which you have long foundered against.” He snarled, and sullenly he went away and the Ibis fled from his face. At the rear of the ranks, the Monois were fettered, great beasts of colossal proportions, whose appearance made even the Ibis to shriek and flee, that if not for the fetters that restrained them, these flagrant creatures would go charging and trampling even through their lines.
Aardoo drew the reins as he sat upon the saddle; behind him was a tower with a company of archers and slingers. A Kroc smeared blood to the horns of the Monoi that instant the be
ast charged so viciously that it yanked the chains that restrained it and spurred furiously for the city, with the ground shuddering beneath its tramping foot.
“To the city! To the city!” He barked, the wind whistled in his ears and the smoke seethes upon his face, over the slain he galloped.
“What is this beast?” the men exclaimed in consternation, as they beheld the lord of Gur-lotta saddled upon the most sinister of all creatures ever seen in the world of men. A beast that appeared like a charging hill with a billowing dust at its tail, straight upon the gate of Ain it rammed its helmed head, the walls quavered from the blow, great clefts appeared upon the wall, Aardoo reined his beast away from the gate as if in defeat even as the archers volleyed at him. Fifty meters away he reined the Monoi towards the gate, the beast grunted and grinded its foot impatiently on the ground, and with a deep grunt it charged forward more ruthlessly and furious. A loud bang tore through the silence of fear that now clad the defenders, a column of dust billowed as a rumble rose, and in the pandemonium that ensued the turrets by the gate were hurled into ruins, the gate crashed into the city upon the defenders.
As the dust dissipated, amongst the wreck was the mangled body of the Monoi, its helmed head was mangled and battered and about it the fallen from the wall but the accursed Aardoo had simply vanished with the dust that now hovered above the city like a grey cloud.
“Move all ranks to the gate; it is yours for the sacking!” Ahmus ordered.
“Now the battle for Ain has begun at the gates we shall withstand them, where all our defences are of no use.” Amroth said. At the ruined gate they could hear blasts of horn calls. A vociferous uproar, a bitter surge as the Ibis and Krocs came once again to battle. The men hurriedly piled up the rubbles and set a fire to the moat and all about the walls of Ain, fires raged whose swirling fumes reddened the sun and smoldered the air.
“The city has been breached, to the city you slugs, to the city!” Ahmus snarled and kicked at the stragglers, as the ranks hurried past him while the tongs of his whip lashed against those that appeared to plod and lag towards the final sacking of the city.
At the ruined gates, the heaps of rubbles at the breached segment reduced the voracity at which the assault came. And as many who clambered through the rubbles and came for battle soon met hewing axes and swords or were impaled by the whining arrows, Aardoo watched in anxiety as an hour crawled by and still they were many Ibises outside the wall just as much as he had sent, the battle was going at a slow pace from the din of swords he could now hear.
“My lord, the resistance at the gate is as staunch as steel, our assaults have been futile the men have piled a wall of rubbles and it grows by the moment with our dead.” An Ibis captain reported, and with a growl Aardoo tossed him aside as he rose. “It’s now time a wizard of Ibisia, prove his worth.” He sneered.
At the wall the battle raged fiercely with a ringing din and jeers of many voices, both fair and foul, the Ibis thronged upon the breached segment, voraciously trying to storm their way through. At the rear of their lines a hoarse voice snarled, a horn blasted, the invaders turned back only to catch the horrifying glimpse of a Kroc chieftain astride upon a Monoi waving a dark banner charging for the city, “Out of my way, you weaklings!” he growled, the Ibis leapt off before his vicious Monoi, but through many he rode with many Ibis gored by the iron tipped horns of the flagrant beast, and many were left trodden into the ground as the beast rushed furiously upon the breached segment, there came the thud like that of many falling stones, a rising of thick columns of dust that blurred and dispelled both defenders and invaders, and as the dust dissipated nigh dusk, the piled rubbles had been cleared, the Monoi laid beside the first, its head mangled within its cloven helm, and many of the defenders and invaders slain amongst the ruins.
The Monoi rider awoke from his dark dream and at his head stood a fair knight clad in a coat of mail with the emblem of Mythia upon his breastplate, but it was the sinister glisten of the sword in his hands that caught the Krocs attention and unnerved him, reaching for his spear, he hurried onto his feet but before he could make a thrust, the knight made a swift strike and hewed his head asunder.
“The city is open, make for it, slay all in your path!” the hoarse voice of Ahmus rang in the clamour of battle, and like a whirlwind the Ibis surged into the city, that for once in the history of men of many ages, did a foe set foot within the precinct of the city’s wall.
The king rallied all to his rank and there at the breached segment upon the rubbles of the wall and gates they withstood the Ibis bitterly. Swords and spears of the most valiant stock of men against the dark scimitars and axes envenomed not just in poison but also in the reckless hatred of Ibisia that before Aardoo could come to the use of his dark powers the city had fallen.
The defenders put the Ibis to a bitter test at the fringe of their victory, but once again the teeming numbers of ibis made their reach invincible, then about two furlongs away along the wall another segment crumbled as a third Monoi leapt into the city with a blast. The wall was now breached in two places and from it new strengths of Ibis were flying in unhindered, slaying at will. Amroth took a contingent of Morbid’s and Mauls to withhold them, but the Ibis press was vicious for they were fresh and unscathed while only a handful of the defenders had not suffered a mortal wound.
At the first glimpse of dusk the Ibis horns blared and gradually they retreated from their onslaught, for indeed the taking of the city was at their finger tips, and as they retreated the horsemen of Fysia came galloping into the city, and with them the hound riders of Carn-dunn, “Aardoo’s cavalry.”
The defenders cried with dread, for they dreaded the terrible hounds of Ibisia which had riders saddled upon their sleazy fur, hounds which every living thing flew from with shrieks of consternation or else fell paralyzed in their paths to be instantly devoured.
“My lord we have left the pillaging and ravaging to the Fysians.” Ahmus said as he came at the head of his company of Krocs.
“No, you have left the Fysians to count the dead of our onslaught.” Aardoo corrected and chuckled upon his seat, from whence he could see the city now smolder in smoke as the dusk deepened and the shadows lengthened, but most it was the rising wails that amused his sardonic personality.
“We have slain the best of Mythia, now let Horton and his men slay the feebles and crones and beat their chest as a partaker of the downfall of his own kind, for once he is through and leaves the cover of the city, I have a surprise waiting for him.” He said contemptuously and all about him burst into peals of laughter for long had they set an inextricable snare for the spiteful men of Fysia, for with their aid was Mythia to be subdued but the hammer stroke was also to fall upon them, so had Cyran and Aardoo devised even before the meeting at Galadrosia where Horton proved himself a traitor.
It was now dark, the city was veiled in a blanket of smoke that hovered above it, and many fires could be seen raging at various sectors of the city. Thurin hill was ablaze, the golden hall sacked and plundered, and all about the wails of the people could be heard for the brutality of the Fysians was beyond reckoning, that the people now wished the Ibis had come to slay them and not one of their kinds. The loot and plunder of battle were shared amongst the men. “To lord and captain of great victory!” they hailed themselves with embraces and kisses, while gold and silver were strewn at their feet.
“All hail Horton, lord of Fysia and the realm of men! A great lord as Azurin of the second age!” a boisterous captain proclaimed, and an encomium of cheers and hails rose in honour of him who now sat upon the throne of the great kings of Mythia whose line had just come to an end, and raising his goblet of mead in his right and many gold farthings in the other, he rose and raised a toast.
“To a new age, of alliances unbroken between the lords of men and the lord of Sondonia!” Horton said and at that he threw the gold coins of treachery onto his subjects. “Sheathe your swords from the swordplay, drink your fill o
f the wine of Ain, and count your plunder! Be merry take as many women as your strength can, for by the morrow every captain shall be a lord and every lord a king.” He said. The minstrel came with sweet music and the mastery of the harp and flute, singing songs of great victories of charging knights and riders of the horse folks of Mindol beneath the banner of Fysia.
At dawn smoldering columns could still be seen dissipating above the city, the broken walls made the once fair city look like a long deserted ruinous city of ghost and howling wolves. Before the dark tents of the Ibis, the Ibises stood in ranks for Aardoo would suffer none to remain, and all night while the Fysians sang and got drunk the Ibis sheared their weapons for a greater slaughter.
Horton came from the gloomy shadow of the city, saddled upon his horse and behind him his company’s came with the easiness of those who expected no misfortune, bearing chests of loot and slaves. Sauntering from the stupor of strong wine, they beheld the Ibis ranks and battle formations that waited to hail the new lord of men, on whose head sat the crown of Mythia.
“Now he calls himself lord amongst men, he has counted his loot and plunder and has become fat with the wealth of sweet treachery, now let him come and I will teach him a lesson that victory at the expense of one's own kin is the greatest of all defeats.” He said.
“All hail the great lord of men, friend and ally of him who watches from Kirrin-dunn. Now my lord Sondon will repay his oath for your loyalty.” Aardoo said and reaching into the folds of his dark robe as if to present a present, he produced a spear, and all of a sudden he hurled it at Horton, but the grey horse neighed and leapt into the air intercepting the spear that would have impaled its rider, it tumbled to the ground, and before the Fysians could check themselves the Ibis ranks had pounced viciously upon them with ferocious stabs.
The vicissitude of the traitors instantly turned sour as an ally turned into a virulent foe just as they had dealt with the men of Ain. The piercing pain of savage thrust and bitter scimitars cleared their stupor that their songs of exultation died in their throats.
Horton groveled at the foot of Aardoo, a long fleshy wound to his back as he cowered over the slain of his company, he cried as he peered into the ominous and fell face of Aardoo, a treacherous mutant of a creature who was most renown for treachery, and how he had come to ally himself to him he could not now tell, and like a mist dispersing in the bright daylight so it now dawned on him how grave his folly was. Now crouching like a lame dog he expected no mercy or quarter from the brutes and savages that now besieged him for it was not in their nature. Ahmus took him by the neck and heaved him up and all about he could see the end of his army, at the foot of Aardoo he was cast, and in the excruciating pain of dishonour, Ahmus great foot came heavily upon his back and pinned him firm to the ground.
“A lord amongst men indeed you are! A lord over open graves, the lords of Ibisia have no interest in slaves of men, neither would they stand by any alliance to your maggot race, now you shall become the most miserable of all and suffer the most heinous of deaths, after you have beheld the waste of your lands, for as I have done to Ain so shall I do to your city.” Aardoo said, with a sardonic grin on his face.
“Aah!” Horton gasped in pain, as dark blood dripped off his mouth. “Indeed this is my retribution, but that of Aardoo son of mellion is still afar but it will be more gruesome than mine.”
“Shackle this rabble to a fetter, to Mindol of Fysia we march!” Ahmus growled. And so came the end of the days of the fair city of Ain, fairest of the abodes of men after Saran of the first age that was sacked by Rogoroth, now sacked by men whose condign came swift upon them, for the very arm of darkness which they upheld came down in a vicious stroke upon them. The days of the kings of Mythia of the line of Azurin came to an end in the ten and nine hundredth year of the fourth age, a city of which many songs are said about.
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M.Y. ROGER
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