As the first of the enemy edged carefully around the back corner of the mansion, they were greeted by an empty yard and checked no further. Mystery or no, indoors was where the best rewards would be. There was some serious looting to be done here.
Down at the Plaza, the barricades were being defended staunchly by Southland’s army. Jorgen had kept some troops back from the walls so they would be fresh for this second phase of fighting but numbers were starting to tell. All along the streets, at the intersections, his troops were under assault. A mobile force under Duke Wilken de Valse had been set up to plug any possible breaches as more men were rushed to defend them. The word from the western gate was that Martine’s troops were now racing toward the open front gate of Belvedere. Jorgen was quite pleased by this latest development and grabbed an injured Captain with a bandaged sword arm.
“Captain, go to the west gate where you’ll find Duke Dalvan and the City Guard who were charged with aiding the evacuation. Inform him he is to be replaced by you and the services of the City Guard are required here and now in the Plaza or all will be lost. That ought to get him moving. Handpick some soldiers with minor injuries and use them to assist you when you get there. It’s time to start evacuating the weaker and more vulnerable citizens out of the city. As soon as the last of Martine’s soldiers disappear around the corner of the front wall, start the evacuation from the West gate. Be careful though, we don’t want enemy soldiers coming in through there.”
The Captain dipped his head, unable to salute, and went off to do as he was bid. One less thing for Jorgen to worry about. The barricade at the north of the square was being broached here and there by enemy soldiers and the mobile team were stretched to hold the gaps closed. The dead from both armies amassed each side of the barricades where they were dragged out of the way of those attacking and defending.
Things were looking very grim for those in the square.
Emerging from the end of the tunnel into a cellar under a building next to the Plaza, Krissi right behind him, Arwhon found Shiri and Merdon waiting for him. Not far behind, Kuiran pulled himself wearily out of the hole in the floor. He was filthy.
“They sure build those pipes small,” he muttered as he attempted to brush himself down. Merdon smiled before turning to Arwhon.
“Sir, I know you are Cristal’s grandson and I have a lot of respect for her. One of your people, your servant Chalc, showed us how to make swords and Cristal got us the steel to do it. Point is, there are a lot of the poorer people who are armed and ready and willing to fight. We just want to know when would be the best time.”
“Right now Merdon. How long will it take to muster them?”
“Just got to run through the streets with a bell. They’re all waiting in groups. About ten minutes,” he replied.
“Right Merdon, get going. I‘ll wait outside for you.”
As he ran up the cellar stairs, Merdon spoke over his shoulder.
“I sure like your gryffon, it’s an amazing animal.”
Arwhon, Shiri and Kuiran waited impatiently outside the building observing the fighting to the north of the Plaza. It didn’t look good for the defenders and Arwhon itched to get over there. Ten minutes later, Merdon returned leading a motley contingent of eight hundred to a thousand poorly dressed men bearing gleaming new swords. The blades were roughly made but serviceable and each had been sharpened repeatedly until it was razor sharp. The men looked keyed up and angry. Angry because foreigners were in their city without permission and probably looting.
The previous night, Jorgen had asked Trelin to leave the city with the other evacuees when the order was given. Timid Trelin she was named behind her back but her nickname was ill-fitting. She’d remained; in fact she was making her way across the square to where he was standing, with a big mug of honeyed tea in her hand. He could smell the honey as she drew close. Jorgen had no idea how Trelin had managed to find time to make the tea or where she came by the honey but that act of caring and kindness buoyed his spirits. Trelin looked over his shoulder at the fierce fighting not one hundred yards away as she handed the mug to Jorgen.
“Brought you something to drink, most Commanders forget the little things. Not going so well, is it?”
He received the mug from her gratefully, amazed at her poise in the face of the exceedingly hostile enemy onslaught and took a draught. Wonderful, just the way he liked it
“No, we’re a bit thin on the ground and liable to be over-run shortly. I would be pleased if you were not here.”
Her response floored him.
“Jorgen, I don’t care what anyone says. I’m staying with you. I’ve come to love you more than I ever loved my lost husband. You have a way about you I’ve come to treasure. There, I’ve said it, no going back.”
Jorgen was stunned but didn’t have time to reply to her bold declaration, as a roaring and clamour from across the square drew his attention. It was Arwhon, Kuiran, Shiri and that damned gryffon charging along in front of nearly a thousand angry men with swords, coming from the poor quarters in the east of the city. Commoners! Who gave bloody commoners swords? Cristal rushed up, nodding to Trelin and spoke quickly to Jorgen.
“Call them the Citizen’s Levee or Cristal’s Reserves or whatever you will but these are some very angry men of Belvedere with cheap swords who want to fight the enemy. Where do you want them?”
Jorgen assessed the defences and found a thinly manned area under pressure. He pointed.
“Half there and the other half wherever they spot the enemy getting the upper hand.”
Cristal quickly hurried over to Merdon at the head of the group and spoke to him. The mob split into two, one half plugging the developing gap and others going to where they were needed the most. The city’s underclasses did not fight elegantly or with style but their brutish rage, as they swung their cheap swords with a vengeance, caused the enemy to regard them with caution. Very shortly after the unlooked-for defenders burst out from the poor quarter, the hundred-strong City Guard, resplendent in their red uniforms, arrived from the western gate having come to the square by a circuitous route to avoid Martine’s forces. Duke Dalvan led them into the Plaza and the City Guard immediately joined in the defence of the barricades.
However, Martine’s army still outnumbered the city’s defenders and the overpowering force surged relentlessly until the attackers and defenders fought high upon the ghastly platforms of their own dead.
The Southland army’s defence of Belvedere was brave but yard by yard they were driven back, eventually racing back across the open central square to regroup behind the barricades on the southern side where the town descended down to the harbour.
It was the last line of defence.
The enemy were pouring into the Plaza now and spreading out. Belvedere’s soldiers were visibly tiring and a couple of times both Raleen and Cristal used their dwindling supply of magic to assist in the battle as it raged all around. Gouts of green flames from Cristal and a shove and push from Raleen gave a few hard pressed soldiers a little welcome breathing space. Arwhon and Kuiran fought along with everyone else, hastily shifting to the weakest part of the defences as needed. The inevitability of defeat under Empress Martine’s crushing numbers was all too apparent.
A bugle call sounded from far to the north. Then again, much closer. Arwhon lifted his head, straining to hear what he so desperately needed to hear. He heard the distant sounds of conflict, then horses galloping and on the far side of the square he finally caught a glimpse of mounted riders, spearing and hacking at the rear of Martine’s army. Southland’s mounted forces had arrived and not a moment too soon.
“Jorgen, it’s the cavalry,” he yelled, pointing.
Soldiers everywhere were cheering and fought on with renewed vigour, pushing Martine’s army back into the square. On the northern side of the square her army had leapt over the barricade into the Plaza to escape the mounted forces behind and having turned around, were using it to defend themselves from the spears and l
ances of the cavalry. In the space of half an hour, around three in the afternoon, the remains of the Dominion army was boxed into the main Plaza of Belvedere.
Surrounded, with no escape from those they had sought to destroy.
10. True Fire.
Martine dressed carefully, choosing a striking costume worthy of a warrior Empress, all the better to impress her vanquished foes and the soldiers of her own army. Sitting alertly outside her pavilion with the Dark Mage in the cool winter sunlight, drinking cafke and oozing confidence, her eyes glittering with fierce, greedy pride, she watched with untold pleasure as her army overran the defenders on the walls and poured en masse into the city when the gates were finally opened. Triumph would be hers as her troops seized the city. Finally, her goal was accomplished. The outcome of the war had not been assured, especially when the Dark Mage had returned from the harbour to inform her of the fate of the Reaver fleet. At that stage of the battle, with nothing guaranteed, there had been cause for concern. Now things had definitely changed for the better and although disappointed at the demise of a potentially useful ally, she quickly came to realise victory and its spoils would be hers alone with no payment due to the Reavers.
Bathing in the glory to come of her victorious ride into Belvedere to claim the city, she heard the clarion call announcing the mounted forces of Southland led by Duke Braden de Marne. The cavalry thundered in from the west, in rigid formation four abreast, pennants fluttering from their couched spears. Over five hundred strong and with no opposition, they charged straight through the open gates of the city right behind the tail end of the Dominion forces. Martine lashed out fiercely, cursing and threatening minions nearby, clinging to the belief her army still outnumbered that of Southland.
In less than an hour, runners came from the gate, heading for her tent and she watched the small figures grow larger as they approached. News of victory at last? Not before time. The lead runner prostrated himself at her feet, panting with exertion. Her face haughty, Martine quizzically raised one perfect eyebrow.
“Well, what have you to say?”
“Empress, our army is confined in the central square of Belvedere. The forces on both sides are evenly matched and have ceased fighting for the moment to draw breath. We await further instruction.”
Martine looked at the Dark Mage in alarm.
“We have to do something. Give them a sign to inspire courage. Can that beast of yours take us to the square?”
The Dark Mage gave a sardonic smile beneath his cowl.
“I can transport you there. A defensive shield should not be too difficult to arrange.”
“Good. Then that is what we will do. I’ll personally inspire them and exhort them to greater effort. Make ready.”
Martine collected her cape, she had to look the part.
The Dark Mage summoned his drakon and while it winged toward them he drew Earthmagic into himself until the sheer quantity of energy threatened to disrupt his body. He surged with power, feeling heady and euphoric. It was borderline for self destruction but he cared little.
The Dark Mage and Martine mounted the drakon and it took to the air with powerful wingbeats. When they were high enough, they could see the wreckage of the Reaver ships floating in the water just outside the harbour and Martine’s army, surrounded by the combined forces of Southland, hemmed in at the very centre of the city she so desired. The large Plaza was ringed with hastily thrown up barricades and defences which now acted to contain the Dominion horde. To the northern end, the Southland cavalry held the defensive line while to the south, the regular army and some rough looking peasants defended that line of barricades. Soldiers lined the streets behind the buildings at the eastern and western ends of the square. It was a stalemate.
The Dominion army appeared to be taking a breather in the centre of the square so she directed the Dark Mage to set down in front of her men.
The drakon circled lower and lower, causing consternation among the inhabitants of Belvedere as it came to land. Escarion detached himself from Cristal’s group and climbed over the barricade to stand in the square.
The drakon landed, skidding on the cobbles.
Martine calmly took in the situation before calling out to her army.
“Who’s in charge here?”
A tall burly looking man stepped forward. He was older than most and bore a few nicks and cuts about his body but wore an air of authority.
“That would be me Empress. I’m the highest ranking officer left.”
“Why are you not fighting for control of the city? I told everyone yesterday that no quarter was to be given or received.”
The man paused to regard her before replying.
“Mistress, with all due respect, the men have been fighting for over nine hours and must take rest. The wounded need tending and we have to regroup the commands.”
“Excuses, all I hear are excuses. Dark Mage, take him out!”
Before anyone could move, the Dark Mage made an offhand gesture toward the tall officer who was instantly consumed in green flame, leaving a pile of ash beneath assorted red hot weapons, smouldering on the cobbles.
There was a loud cry of protest from the edge of the square as Escarion stepped forward.
“That is not allowed. In all agreements made by the Elder Race, it is forbidden to directly use magic to harm Man. You have transgressed.”
The Dark Mage laughed at the challenge.
“And who is going to stop me? You?”
“I am bound by my oath to the Kin of S’Ria to try.”
Escarion advanced, lifting his arm to direct his magic but before he had taken another step, the Dark Mage, fully charged with Earthmagic, flung a bolt of energy at Escarion who was totally unprepared for the strength of the spell. It caught him full in the chest and he flew back, falling heavily, his clothes smouldering but still he lived. He tried to raise himself to his feet but another power bolt caught him and flipped him onto his back, smoking. A cry came from the crowd and Arwhon leapt the barrier, heading to defend Escarion. Martine recognised him.
“Do not kill that one. I wish to capture him. The girl too, a useful tool I think.”
Kuiran pushed forward, his staff at the ready but was waved back by Arwhon. However, Sihron’del, his Shield, leapt the barrier to position herself between Arwhon and the evil Q’Herindam Mage as Arwhon knelt beside Escarion, checking for signs of life.
The Dark Mage looked Sihron’del up and down in her green armour, a youngster, brave but not powerful.
“So, you think to challenge the power of Q’Herindam. Foolish girl!”
Q’Herindam and M’Herindar stared at one another while Arwhon spoke quietly to a rapidly dying Escarion, trying to make him comfortable as he smouldered on the cobbles.
“He was too strong for me. I’m dying. I’ll put my essence into this.” Escarion pulled weakly at the chain around his neck and withdrew the sapphire Arwhon had seen before in Gildon’s Keep. Arwhon helped the Mage remove it from around his neck and Escarion held the jewel to his brow.
“When I appear to die, take the jewel and keep it safe. Deliver it to the Kin of S’Ria if you are able, or place it to the forehead of someone you think worthy of me. I would like that.”
Arwhon took a quick glance over at Shiri who stood between him and the Dark Mage. He hoped she would be alright. Escarion placed the sapphire against his forehead again and closed his eyes, mumbling.
“It is done,” he finally gasped, as his head slowly fell sideways, lifeless eyes staring now at nothing at all.
The jewel fell to the cobbles from Escarion’s lifeless hand only momentarily, before Arwhon picked it up, securing it under his chainmail before bending again to find Escarion quite dead. Shiri’s eyes left the Dark Mage momentarily as Arwhon bent to Escarion.
It was a serious mistake.
The instant her gaze left the Dark Mage, an evil smirk crossed his countenance. This one was not Man, she was M’Herindar and the Rules did not apply to her.
Before Shiri could turn back, the Dark Mage insolently flung a knockout bolt of energy at Shiri. She instantly went limp, as if her legs were knocked from under her and she crumpled to the ground unconscious.
There was a roar of outrage from the defenders of Belvedere and to a man they surged to the barricades and began climbing over; Kuiran ahead of them, galvanised into action.
Martine’s soldiers jumped to their feet, thinking they were under attack and formed a defensive square around her, ready to fight again.
The Dark Mage spoke to Martine.
“Make haste if you want your little green pawn Empress.”
Martine dismounted from the drakon and quickly crossed to where Shiri lay unmoving, now behind a wall of Dominion soldiers. She ordered the nearest man to gather up Shiri and place her over the drakon’s scaly neck in front of her saddle. The soldier’s fear of Martine was greater than his dread of the drakon as he rushed to comply. Arwhon was blindsided by the speedy loyalty of the Dominion soldiers forming up around Martine, the drakon and Sihron’del. He knew nothing of the fateful threat they were under to perform or die upon stakes, the punishment dished out to the soldiers returned from Tarkent. He leapt to retrieve Shiri and felt the familiar rush of displaced air from Kuiran’s staff as they both advanced upon the Dominion soldiers standing staunchly between them and the unconscious Shiri.
Belvedere’s defenders swarmed across the barricades to re-engage with the enemy who doggedly refused to give ground. As each Dominion soldier was hewn down at the hands of Arwhon and Kuiran, yet another would leap into the gap to cross blades and staff. The pair made slow progress toward where Shiri lay slumped over the drakon’s neck. Arwhon’s Ring tingled and he looked up, just in time to see the Dark Mage fixing him with his malevolent gaze before a green bolt of energy shot from the Mage’s hand. Reflexively, Arwhon raised his sword toward it. The energy bolt flew into the end of Arwhon’s sword accompanied by a brilliant burst of red flame. He had no time to wonder at it as the soldiers in front of him advanced yet again. Desperate to reach Shiri before the drakon took her from him, Arwhon renewed his attack with vigour, striking left and right in flickering sword strokes, drawing blood with each one.
The Fall of Belvedere Page 32