Kuiran studied Raleen’s face quizzically.
“Didn’t you know?”
Raleen shook her head mutely as Cristal continued.
“Well now you do. Work with that talent as well and try to turn it off when you don’t need to use it. You’ll find you have more energy to spare.”
Cristal then addressed Kuiran.
“Not bothered Kuiran?”
“No Cristal. I’ve lived among magic all my life. I know who I am and magic doesn’t affect me greatly. I merely thought Raleen was trying to win me over by using it.”
Raleen was so embarrassed she had to rise and go to the window, her face averted to the courtyard in the evening’s dimming light. After a few moments she turned, her face blazing and fired up at Kuiran.
“You knew it was a talent I wasn’t aware of and yet you carried on acting friendly in spite of it. Without telling me.”
Kuiran looked down at her red face, a bemused smile on his own.
“I wasn’t acting. I thought you knew of it. With or without the talent, I can see the person within. How could I tell you I knew of it, when I wished to be attracted all along?”
Turning to a smiling Cristal, Kuiran continued.
“Now I know the attraction was totally innocent, I feel much better about Raleen somehow.”
Raleen’s smile was sunshine as she crossed the room to put her arms around as much of Kuiran as she could, warmly embracing the big man.
Cristal interrupted them.
“Sorry to break it to you both like this but Martine’s army will be here in less than a fortnight and I’ll need Kuiran’s opinion of the city walls before then. He’ll have to slip out and in again until the soldiers who are stationed on the wall have learned to keep watch properly. If you need him for a tunnel search let me know, Raleen?”
Raleen nodded her agreement and went back to the old maps with a smile as Cristal and Lareeta left the library for the study.
There was so much to do.
Over the next few days, Kuiran, who was instantly recognisable to all due to his size, played havoc with the guards on the wall of the City of Belvedere. Even though they were warned he would be testing them, time and time again he managed to find a way into the city. He started by exploring the gaps in stormwater gratings, pulling rusting bars out of the way to access the city. Then he took a small boat across the harbour from the eastern shore and even, his favourite, riding the giant water wheel until he could leap up to grip the top of the wall and haul himself over. For someone who was once a Ranger in the Darkwood, it was not a difficult task to enter Belvedere surreptitiously and the wall defences were improved each time he found a weakness. It took a week before Kuiran was satisfied foreign soldiers would not be able to slip over, under or around the walls of the city unnoticed.
Buglers were posted at intervals along the wall and practiced the various signals which sounded announcements to all the defenders.
‘Enemy attacking here.’
‘More men needed for defence.’
‘Scaling ladders in use by the enemy.’
Plus numerous other bugle calls of importance which could be necessary at some stage in the defence of the city.
Cristal meanwhile, had once more visited the Thieves Guild with a request for passable tunnels to be illustrated on the maps she provided. This time, with word of Martine’s advance, she was grudgingly given access to the most commonly used underground routes the majority of thieves knew of but she still had to accept guides being provided for lesser known subterranean byways. Cristal thought of Raleen and almost wished she had brought her. These thieves would have been only too happy to have given her granddaughter the knowledge if she could turn her ‘gift’ ability on at will.
When Cristal arrived home after her visit to the Thieves Guild, she handed Raleen the altered maps the thieves had given her, so Raleen could attempt to join up the underground routes used by the thieves to her own marked tunnels. Not all of them matched.
Cradon oversaw the anchorage of three of his older, large ships in the passageway through the sandbar which lay across the harbour mouth and, almost in tears at the loss of them, had them sunk. At high tide, only the upper parts of the masts broached the water while at low tide, their upper decks could still be seen. It broke his heart to sacrifice these older, original ships of his fleet but if the city was overcome, he would lose everything. Three ships was not too great a price to pay for freedom from Dominion.
The warehouses along the waterfront closest to the Wandering River on the eastern side of the harbour had been stripped of everything of value apart from the barrels of lamp oil, while on the western side, the redoubt at the end of the harbour wall had been strengthened so the best archers available could fire safely on the Reavers’ ships.
If the occasion arose.
A temporary camp with barricades had also been set up on the eastern shore of the harbour among the scattered fishermen’s huts which lay outside of Belvedere’s walls. It would be a dangerous position to man and only volunteers would be stationed over there. There was no shortage of them. A couple of rowboats were tied up at a small jetty below the shacks for a quick escape if necessary.
It was a position readily available to Martine’s forces.
A weakness.
More messengers arrived from the front line, sometimes two a day, informing the Council of the advance of Empress Martine’s army. She was virtually unopposed for now. Smoke could be seen far toward the east and Cristal hoped fervently that young de Fries had listened to Trelin’s council.
He had, closely. The Southland army was at least two days march ahead of the Dominion forces and he kept that distance between them. When Martine’s forces became strung out, trying to overtake the Southland army, thinking there was little or no defensive force arrayed against them, Jorgen de Fries hit them where their lines were at the thinnest, the foot soldiers at the mercy of his cavalry. He showed the enemy no quarter as he knew to expect none. Casualties among the Dominion forces were far higher than those of Southland’s cavalry but de Fries’ intelligence now indicated their own forces were outnumbered nearly two to one.
Wagons with farming families were arriving in Belvedere daily, first in two’s and three’s but then the trickle became a flood as more and more of them turned up seeking refuge in the city. Many of them had a cow or two tied to the big farm drays and some drove wagons drawn by oxen. Some families were billeted with city relatives, if they had them, or were sent to the great square to set up camp beside, under, or in their wagons.
Kirta was put to work on the disposition of the wagons and cattle in the square, her loud voice and even larger size making her ideal for creating order from the incipient chaos and leaving roadways clear. Not many argued with her and she dropped those who did. After seeing how hard she could punch, any further disagreement with her requests disappeared. Soon the great square was ordered, with cattle held behind sturdy rope fences. Empty barrels were cut in half for water troughs and Kirta ordered several wagons to travel to the nearest farms, commandeering all the straw they had for feed for the livestock. It was stacked in the square and a number of the families took some straw to make beds.
The order would not last though. Even Kirta realised the truth of the situation. War was coming and people were becoming increasingly anxious.
Cristal spent part of a day sitting her horse, dressed in common clothes, about a hundred yards in from the main City gate. She was picking families to live in her courtyards. About four or so would fit she thought and eventually ended up with six. Most chosen had children, some a lot of them. She would pick a likely candidate and hail them, asking how they were.
“What’s it gotta do wit you, woman?” was not the answer she was looking for. It took a civil reply, followed by a couple of more simple questions to see if they had relatives or a place to stay and were decent people, before another unsuspecting family was led away to her manor and possibly the best billeting in the city.
Ten days after the first message regarding the invasion of Southland arrived, around three quarters of the Southland army arrived at Belvedere with the camp wagons following along behind. They were all infantry, marching behind the mounted officers. Many of them appeared weary and there were a few minor wounds evident here and there but generally the men were in a passable condition. Their leader was Duke Wilken de Valse, Second in Command of the army and it was he who was in charge of their entry into Belvedere.
The first night at Belvedere the army camped outside the city walls while barracking arrangements were made for the men. The next morning Duke Wilken led the soldiers into the city, riding at the head of the infantry, trumpets blaring. It took some time for three and a half thousand, well-armed fighting men to march through the gates during the morning. Their job, to hold Belvedere against Empress Martine’s rapidly advancing forces.
The smoke to the east was drifting closer by the day and at night, a menacing glow of flame turned the bellies of the smoke clouds red. Martine’s men were drawing closer.
Soon, the Southland mounted forces appeared, all five hundred of them, riding swiftly up to the gates. Each had an infantry man clutching a stirrup leather taking exaggerated long strides beside the horse. It was a method used to rapidly move ground forces over short distances without tiring them or the horses too much. Jorgen de Fries led the cavalry and when the detachment halted in front of the city walls, he rode forward then turned his horse around to speak to his men.
“Infantry. Most excellent work men. I’m proud of how you carried yourselves in the face of the enemy. When I’ve finished speaking you will fall out and rejoin your regiments in Belvedere. Those who are mounted. You have two hours to reprovision and say goodbye to loved ones before you ride to the west. Company captains, you each have your orders and are now semi-autonomous mounted guerrilla units. Use the foothills of Mehgrin’s Wall for your camps. Harass the enemy but don’t get caught. Be wary of traps. As Commander in Chief of the Armed Forces I am remaining here with the rest of the army. Duke Braden de Marne will be your commanding officer. Fate be with you all!”
There was a combined roar from the infantry and the cavalry and the city gates swung open to admit them. The mounted men rode into the city first as the infantry formed up to march in. Two hours later, apart from a few stragglers, the cavalry had departed.
Jorgen de Fries had not returned home but ridden straight to Trelin’s house. Tongues wagged and his wife was furious when she found out he’d not come home directly. Jorgen cared nought; she could always buy another expensive dress. He had bigger fish to fry.
Freedom was at stake.
Cristal’s manor was a hive of activity, reports from the cavalry indicated Martine’s forces were not far behind them and the smell of smoke from burnt grass was wafted over the city by the easterly breeze as Cristal, with Kuiran’s help, finalised her mansion’s defences against attack, should Empress Martine’s forces break into the city. It could be a fight to the death. The families camped in the yard of the manor behind the house were given arms plus instructions regarding their role in the defence of their new home. Cristal then dashed off a last minute message to Duke Dalvan regarding the necessity for fire fighting units and sent one of her stable boys to the City Guard compound with it. Apart from that, everything she could think off had been accomplished. Cradon was the leader of a small group charged with watching the bay beyond the harbour. His instructions were to maintain watch for the Draakon Reavers despite whatever he heard was happening elsewhere in the city.
In the central square, thanks to Kirta, there still remained a large central cleared area surrounded by the makeshift camps of farmers and tethered stock. Jorgen de Fries mounted a hastily erected platform on the back of an empty wagon to speak to his assembled soldiers. Well organised troops, standing to attention, waited to be addressed by him. Trelin had come through with sound tactical advice and his respect for her abilities mounted daily. Jorgen paused for breath then lifted his head so his voice would carry.
“Men of the army, brave defenders of Belvedere, Empress Martine hopes to take the city. It has never been taken before and I’m sure that you will not allow her to have it now.
You’ll be split into three equal Divisions, one to man the walls, one in reserve and one eating and sleeping. The Division on the walls will then rest after eight hours, the reserves will go to the walls and those newly awakened will become reserves. That will be your lives from now on until the war ends. There may be times when we’ll all have to fight in defence of our city but that is the price of war. The alternative is death or slavery. Your Company Captains have all been briefed and the various horn calls need to be learned so we can all work as one. If you have any further questions, direct them to your Captains. I expect every man to defend this City to his dying breath. We will not be defeated!”
A resounding cheer went up and the soldiers were quickly detailed into the three rostered Divisions. The troops of the first Division due to man the walls were fallen out for some sustenance before they were marched to their posts.
Belvedere was now quite crowded, although good planning meant the various inhabitants did not get in each others way but overcrowding would present its own set of problems should Martine’s forces pierce the cities defences.
On top of the church tower, a solitary figure lounged against the parapet, his three quarter coat looking a little the worse for wear and his sallow features expectant. None looking from the ground would be able to see him if he didn’t want to be seen. His sharp eyes spied the massed troops of the enemy off in the distance as the sun descended behind him in the western sky, dipping below the far distant peaks of Mehgrin’s Wall. The Evil Q’Herindam was not yet accompanying those forces off in the distance. Escarion was positive the Q’Herindam Mage Arwhon had come up against was extremely gifted but ultimately cruel and evil, able to arrive any time he chose on the back of some fell beast. Escarion fervently hoped Empress Martine would not attack this evening under cover of darkness. He gestured and a transparent weatherproof top capped the church tower in response to his wave, providing cover for his laden table, chair and bed. This could be a long vigil he thought as an open book flew into his hand and Escarion settled into his chair to read in the dark.
There was no sunrise when people woke to start the new day. Everyone was aware the forces of Empress Martine were close. Some had been expecting an attack during the night. Jorgen de Fries had spent many hours conferring with Trelin, more than he decently should have but he was caught up in their discussion of tactics and what to expect during a siege. Jorgen’s wife was not amused and could not see the point in tactics. People fought and one side won. It was about as far as her mind would take her on that subject.
Jorgen woke with a start, his wife snoring beside him. For the tenth time in as many days, he wondered what had drawn him to her in the first place, finally deciding it was probably her voluptuous body or her father’s money. He cursed as he went out on the balcony and gazed around, realising it was still dark. The sun should have been up by now. By the time he’d dressed, his saddled horse was waiting for him, held by his servant. There was no time for breakfast, so he mounted and rode to the city gatehouse. The huge, steel reinforced, wooden gates were locked shut and a huge drop bar settled into the steel frames built into the walls at each side of them. Behind the gates, the portcullis was lowered. Dismounting, Jorgen handed his horse’s reins to a junior soldier, walked up the inner stairs of the right gate tower and came out onto the battlements. The saluting was sharp and Duke Wilken de Valse was waiting for him.
Jorgen summoned his Captains to him.
“Wear cloaks the same colour as the soldiers wear,” Jorgen ordered. “Then you won’t be picked off first.”
Thank you Trelin. He took a cloak from a nearby soldier, promising to return it and walked the battlements with Duke Wilken and his Captains. Through the gloom he could make out massed ranks of Dominion soldiers in
the open area in front of the city walls. They stood just out of bow range, silent and still. It was eerie under the dark sky.
“How many do you think,” he asked in general.
“About seven thousand all told but it is difficult to be certain.” Duke Wilken replied. “This gloom is making it difficult to be sure there are no others further out.”
Jorgen de Fries chose a position where they could not be overheard and bent his head close to the Duke’s.
“The first assault will be fierce. They will throw everything at us they have. Their objective will be to get in and open the gates. The quicker they can do it, the fewer casualties they will suffer. Warn the men to be ready.”
Lightning flashed at the edges of the low dark clouds gradually moving closer to Belvedere over the heads of Martine’s army. When the clouds had cleared the massed troops below, the lightening bolts started to tear huge chunks out of the ground. The power was phenomenal as the electrical discharges, ripping out of the sky, advanced toward the walls, rocks raining down on the defenders from the huge holes the bolts blasted into the ground. Jorgen was alarmed. This was not a standard manoeuvre nor was the lightening natural.
“Magic. How can we fight that? Get word to the men to stand fast or it will all be over before lunch.”
The Commander in Chief stood on the walls with his men as the lightening advanced and his men drew courage from him. Duke Wilken tried to get him to leave but in a loud voice Jorgen de Fries announced between flashes.
“These men are standing firm and I will stand with them.”
There was a cheer from those positioned near him and the word was spread around the walls. The Commander in Chief was standing with his men in the face of danger.
The Fall of Belvedere Page 12