He watched as the other arrows landed more accurately on the boat, most of them directly on the main target: the giant ballista. Faint cries of surprise and alarm came from the boat, and a series of explosions erupted on the deck; fire broke out in many places.
Individually, the arrows didn’t carry much of Valo Peli’s lopor, or thunder powder, but ten or eleven arrows together produced a conflagration that looked like it would destroy the war machine and perhaps set the whole boat on fire.
Any sense of accomplishment he felt as the ballista burned was undermined by his own failure to hit the target. He threw his bow down in frustration. As he stood there, he saw Damar fire his arrow and then put his bow down and begin swatting his face, apparently burned by the sparks. Immediately, Kagne thought back to a day on the Erimasran plains when a large grass fire came toward his village. While the women and elders made ready to flee, the men had gone out to halt the fire. The older men had soaked strips of cloth in washtubs and then wrapped the cloths around their faces and hands. The Kelten archers could do the same; he just needed water and cloth.
Kagne hunted around for buckets of water. He was about ready to go down to the lower level when he found two buckets, both only a quarter full, near the woodpile. Success! Now for some cloth. Sandun usually planned ahead for injuries, and that meant he likely had some strips of cloth in his pack. Kagne rooted around in Sandun’s pack and pulled out several pieces of clean cloth. He dunked the cloth in the water, lightly squeezed the excess out, and then offered one to the next man, who had come to pick up an arrow that Valo Peli had set alight.
“That’s a good idea, Kagne!” Padan said. Taking one of the wet pieces of cloth, he wrapped it around his head. The other Keltens soon followed Padan’s lead. Kagne ran out of rags, and two archers still needed them when Lathe came over with some extra pieces of cloth; it looked like he had torn off his sleeves to provide them.
That done, Kagne went back to the east side and saw three boats burning in the night. He watched as another arrow flew in a smooth curve down toward a new target. But then an arrow snapped and broke against the stone wall next to him; it had been fired from below. More arrows came up and then rained down. The arrows came down with little force and no accuracy, but they were annoying, and there was nothing that could be done about them…or so Kagne thought.
His attention was drawn to the two krasuth, who began a weird dance. After a few seconds, the hairs rose on Kagne’s arms, and the air felt odd; he could not explain the sensation. Over the next minute, a thin haze grew into a thick fog that surrounded the top of the tower. Soon he could barely see the harbor, and the burning boats were just hazy outlines. Very few arrows made it through the fog, likely because the archers down below could no longer see the top of the tower.
But even as it protected them, the fog became an increasing hindrance to the Kelten archers. Basil shouted angrily, “I can’t see the next target! Sho’Ash curse this fog!”
Kagne ran over to the two krasuth and said, in his broken Serice, “Clouds, too big! Archers not see boats.” In response, the smaller of the two krasuth set his staff aside and went to the eastern edge of the tower, all the while making odd, choppy hand motions. The change in the fog on that side of the tower was rapid, and hard for Kagne to believe even as he saw it. In one place, where the smaller krasuth was standing, there was now a hole or a window, and the boats in the harbor became visible again. The fog thickened in all other directions, and the air grew bitterly cold, almost as if winter had come to the tower.
Now, the Keltens shot their burning arrows at an undamaged behemoth. Some of the flames vanished, likely extinguished by buckets of water, but others stubbornly resisted going out, and after a steady rain of exploding arrows, the fourth boat was burning brightly.
The sounds of fighting and yells came from below. Kagne went to the south side of the tower and looked down, through the fog. He could dimly see soldiers with torches advancing on the tower.
A terrible whistling noise, and Kagne turned to see a giant arrow flying over the tower. Then another arrow could be heard, this one lower, but it flew past and smashed into a building nearby. Then one great arrow crashed into the lower part of the tower, the stone floor they were standing on shook violently, and several Kelten archers were knocked to their knees.
“This is getting exciting,” Kagne said to Sandun. Sandun grunted in response but seemed fixed on lighting the fire arrows for the other archers.
Kagne watched as Valo Peli took a grapefruit-sized package in one hand and applied fire to its fuse. Valo Peli then hurried over to the south wall and dropped the package down. Within seconds, there was a great flash of light and a booming noise, followed by a cacophony of cries and shrieks. Valo Peli saw that Kagne had observed this novel means of defense; Valo Peli picked up another package, set its fuse alight, and handed it to Kagne.
Holding the burning bag and knowing it would soon explode, Kagne ran to the tower’s wall and threw the bag toward the largest collection of torches below. The bag of lopor vanished into the fog; a moment later, there was a sudden shouting followed by another flash of light and an unearthly roar. All the torches vanished, as if doused by a gale’s gust or because the Vasvar soldiers had thrown them down. Kagne felt thrilled and then sickened to be the agent of such destruction.
In the quiet after the explosion, Kagne thought he heard the sound of fighting coming from farther west, near the city wall. He strained his eyes, but the fog was too thick to see through. A minute passed, and now the sounds were unmistakable: the yelling of men and the clashing of steel.
Behind him he heard Sandun say, “That is the last of the fire arrows.”
Another great arrow hit the tower lower down. Kagne turned and saw that a section of the top wall had fallen away.
“We should get down from here!” Kagne shouted at Sandun. “Before this whole thing collapses underneath us!”
“Wait,” said Sir Ako. “I think the boats are moving out of the harbor.”
“That doesn’t matter. They can still hit this tower from the river.”
The Lord of Kunhalvar, who had been striding back and forth, stopped and said something to Sandun, and then he and one guard went down the stairs. The other guard was sitting down: an unlucky arrow had cut deeply into his arm, and he had bled out while stoically protecting his lord with his own shield. He had found a seat with his last strength.
The two krasuth were arguing with one another; the tall one seemed to be telling the smaller man to go down the stairs, while the latter shook his head and protested. Valo Peli and Lathe had collected their few remaining pouches of thunder powder and were heading down the stairs; the Kelten archers were ready to follow.
A minute later, everyone but the tall krasuth and Kagne had left the top. Another bolt had hit the tower, this time from the river side. The tower was swaying a little from the impact. Kagne wanted desperately to leave, but he felt he was being shown up by this strange man who had kept fog wrapped around the tower for more than an hour.
“Go down!” Kagne yelled at the man, pointing down the stairs.
The krasuth waved his hands around as if pointing to the fog and shook his head in refusal. Kagne now suspected that if the man went down the stairs, the fog would swiftly vanish, and then the tower would come under heavy fire from the remaining great ships. He didn’t know how many of great boats had survived; he guessed at least fifteen of them. In the tower’s weakened condition, it would not take long to bring the lighthouse down in a cataclysm of broken stone.
Suddenly the man stopped his strange dance and took Kagne’s face with his two hands. Kagne tried to pull free, but the man’s grip was strong. The man gazed at Kagne with his intense eyes, so dark they seemed to swallow the man’s face in shadow. The krasuth spoke, and somehow Kagne understood him.
“I am Orinok. I do this at the behest of the True Master. ‘Protect the Lor
d of Kunhalvar,’ he said, and I obey. You too may learn to serve the True Master. Go north! Follow the call! Now leave!”
Kagne stumbled away from Orinok and headed down the stairs as he had been told. He seemed to hear Orinok’s words echoing over and over in his mind. Follow the call. I serve the True Master. Kagne hardly noticed the bodies and the broken weapons on the ground floor or the last few palace guards who were still defending the doorway, bleeding, clutching broken pieces of weapons and covered in blood. Vaguely he noticed that one of the remaining defenders was a short man with a beard whose bristles were now stiff with blood.
Stones fell from above, and there was a choking dust of pulverized mortar in the air. Torches had been hurled into the room through the shattered doorway; some were still burning. Kagne paid little attention. He just kept going down to the cellar. He felt like he had been smoking dream weed for an hour, and he knew better than to fight the sensation. He was just going to do what seemed right without thinking it out.
At the narrow secret entrance, he found Valo Peli and Lathe doing something with their bags of lopor. He pushed past them and went down into the darkness. At the bottom of the stairs there were lanterns. Sandun was pulling at his arm and urging him to go down the long, endless tunnel. Valo Peli and Lathe came running down the stairs and collided with him; they both smelled of thunder powder and smoke.
There was a booming noise that was followed shortly by a growing rumble that shook the ground. Bits of stone and flakes of dry moss blew around them. Kagne saw the lanterns go out one by one down the tunnel. He found he was completely unworried by both the crashing sounds and the darkness.
When there was light again, he discovered Sandun was splashing his face with cold water, and he was recalled, for a time, from his waking dream. He was on his back, his left hand and arm hanging down in the waterway.
“Are you hurt?” Sandun asked. “The tower has collapsed, but the tunnel is still intact. Let’s go!”
“Orinok is staying behind, doing the will of the True Master, and I must follow the call” Kagne replied. Sandun looked at him quizzically and then offered his hand to Kagne.
Kagne struggled to his feet and slowly headed down the tunnel, following Sandun. Two dark eyes seemed to be staring back at him from whichever direction he looked.
Climbing up the stairs, Sandun felt good, perhaps even elated. While Sir Ako stayed at the base of the stairs to let the other Keltens rest, Sandun followed Lord Vaina, who was eager to get back to the palace war room and find out what was going on. Behind them, the survivors of the palace guard were also climbing the steps.
“Did you see those boats running back downstream? I’ll bet they keep going all the way to Fuseboni.” Lord Vaina said this to Sandun as they both stopped for a breather after reaching the halfway point. “Your men performed wonderfully well. Fishcakes! I hope General Kun’s soldiers are able to capture some of the great boats that were on fire in the harbor.”
As they continued up the stairs, Sandun asked, “Lord Vaina, you said General Tuno and his fleet had fallen into your trap. Did you want them to attack?”
“Ha-ha, yes, I did. The army of the Radiant Prince in Sasuvi is still weak. Their losses last year were even greater than the rumors spoke of. We knew Two-Swords was building a fleet, and he was ambitious. I didn’t trust him from the moment I first met him four years gone. I thought Tuno would either sail down to Buuk or sail north. Then, the size of his boats told me he was heading upriver.”
“The mouth of the Mur is a huge swamp, or so our old maps say.”
“Yes, very much a swamp. The river splits and splits again into a maze of shallow lakes. I’ve been there, once. Flat boats can sail all the way to Buuk, with a guide. Lots of bugs.” Lord Vaina seemed to recall Buuk without much affection.
“So you felt if General Two-Swords attacked Sasuvi, he would take it?”
“Like an eel swallows a minnow. Growing his strength, putting Tokolas in between two large hostile enemies. We would be like a trout on the shore caught between two hungry cats. So my spies planted stories throughout Vasvar of our weakness, our disunity, even a highly placed traitor who was going to defect and bring his army with him. Hah! We magnified our losses and minimized those of the Radiant Prince. Also, Two-Swords Tuno has hated me for years.”
“But the Radiant Prince attacked Kemeklos? Why would Sasuvi do that if they were weak?”
Lord Vaina stopped and faced Sandun. “The Radiant Prince is just a boy. The real leader in Sasuvi is the man we call the Red Prophet. I have great respect for the Prophet—he is a powerful speaker, an inspiration to all who hear him. But I never expected the Red Prophet to order his army out and attack Kemeklos, because it makes no sense! My people in Sasuvi think the Red Prophet’s army has barely eight thousand men. And most are raw recruits. If General Two-Sword’s fleet had continued north, he would have found no one to oppose him. He could have captured every city along the Nava river, from Sasuvi north to Hevravi. And without a fleet big enough to challenge him, there was little we could have done in response. No, we had to convince him to come to us.”
Lord Vaina, his face illuminated by the glowing orb he wore around his neck, looked at Sandun closely. “I want you to be part of my council. You have proved worthy of my trust, and because you are from Kelten, you take warfare seriously. We have long known that Kelten is both a civilized land and one where warriors and generals are treated with respect. I believe we are just playing at war here in Serica these days. If Kunhalvar is going to triumph, I will need the best experts I can get. You and your men are the finest warriors I have ever seen. None of my soldiers could have done what your men did this evening.”
Sandun looked up at Lord Vaina, who seemed so convincing, so earnest in his entreaty. A part of Sandun wanted to say yes, to not just read about the events of the past but actually be a part of decisions as they were made.
“My lord, we have been away from home for more than a year. We were sent here by King Pandion to see if it was possible to cross the Tirala Mountains and to set up trade relations. Our mission is not complete until we return.”
Lord Vaina bore down on Sandun’s argument. “You spent a year traveling to Serica. It will take nearly as long to return, yes? Why not spend a year here before returning? Stay here, learn about Serica. You came to set up trade? In a year, I can send you back with a rich caravan of goods and with an ambassador as well. But right now, I need you. With you and your men, we have a chance to change the course of history!”
Sandun hesitated.
Lord Vaina tried another tack. “More than one hundred years ago, Ors Divar, a Sogand warlord, the leader of the Turan tribe, met the Kelten army in battle, and you won.” Sandun nodded his head. Lord Vaina was referring to Maklinos the Great; everyone in Kelten knew the story of his victory.
Lord Vaina continued, “The news of the defeat traveled all the way back to Serica, giving hope to the armies of the Water Kingdom that the Sogands could be overcome. People still remember that—one of the rare times the Sogands were ever beaten. The Kitran army is coming for us; I don’t know when, but they will come. Your presence here would mean something far more than just numbers. Serice armies have been defeated so many times by the Kitran—by the Sogands—that my people don’t believe they can be vanquished. They don’t think Serice warriors can do it. Serice armies are overcome by fear before the fighting starts. But you don’t think that way. You can show us the path to victory!”
This argument carried real weight with Sandun. In Kelten and throughout the Archipelago, the Sogands were believed to be in league with the Black Terror. Coming on this long journey and finding the land of Serica ravaged by Sogands reminded Sandun of the story of Sho’Ash. It had long been taught that the story of Sho’Ash, his leaving his home and family and traveling on a great journey to overthrow the rule of the Black Terror, was a metaphor for everyone. For all of them, their ex
pedition had become something more than just trade or exploration. It was more like a crusade.
“Very well, Lord Vaina. My men and I will stay for a year and help you.”
“Thank you, Sandun. You won’t regret this.” Lord Vaina turned and started up the stairs again. “We are going to do great things together. You will see.”
Back at the war room, there were a pile of messages and very visible relief on everyone’s face when Lord Vaina appeared, unharmed. Quickly he put on his formal robe and then sat down. He motioned Sandun to sit on a chair beside him. The time was near dawn, and tea and food were brought to them as the lord listened to the reports.
General Kun, leading the eastern wing, had captured the Vasvar camp, and many of the Vasvar soldiers had switched sides after a personal appeal made by General Kun. The western wing, under General Erdis, had slowly driven the Vasvar soldiers back to the Tokolas harbor. For the last hour, the Vasvar army had been embarking onto their ships, but the situation around the harbor was chaotic. The surviving great boats, fourteen all counted, were miles downriver. No one had seen General Tuno, but Vasvar prisoners claimed he was on board one of the great boats.
The commander of the Tokolas navy asked for permission to advance down the river in pursuit, but Lord Vaina rejected that idea. “We have won a great victory, but their fleet is still larger than ours. I require you to use your ships to seal up the harbor entrance and stop any more Vasvar boats from escaping. That is enough for this day. Further, and to repeat: there is to be no execution of prisoners and no taking of heads. Many of the Vasvar soldiers will fight for Tokolas if they are treated justly.”
Half an hour later, Sir Ako appeared, guided by one of the messenger boys. “I sent everyone back to the embassy, but this boy told me I could find you here.”
The Burning Tower Page 34