A Kingdom Under Siege

by Jeffrey L. Kohanek

  She then heard a man call out, “Stop!”

  Cassie gasped as the battlefield fell silent.

  “Lay down your weapons,” the man said in a voice she knew well. “You do not need to die today. Enough have already paid that price.”

  “Father?” Cassie gasped in wonder. “You live?”

  Her heart soared at hearing his voice, but she struggled to look into the light to confirm it was truly him. Compelled to divine the truth, Cassie moved against the tide of retreating soldiers and, instead, walked toward the animated rock monster.

  When her father issued a command for everyone to drop their weapons, all fell silent. He repeated the command and many obeyed, but not everyone. Squinting at the light, Cassie gazed up at the silhouette, but she was still unable to see clearly to confirm it was him.

  Steeling herself, she reached the leg of the rock monster and began to climb. The beast neither moved nor acknowledged her presence. When Cassie neared the top, she stood and looked up to find her father standing just a few strides away. It is him! He lives!

  Brock lurched when an arrow struck his upper arm. He grunted when another pierced his thigh. He staggered when a third buried deep into his chest.

  “Father!” Cassie cried as she scrambled up the rock.

  “Cassie?” he said between gritted teeth, his eyes still looking over the battlefield.

  When Cassie noticed a Power rune drawn on his hand, she knew the augmentation was the only thing keeping him upright.

  She put her hand on his arm. “I’m here.” Tears blurred her vision. “Hold on.”

  Gripping the arrow in his arm, she twisted it and pulled it out, drawing a trail of blood. After discarding the arrow, she worked on the one in his thigh, removing it and tossing it aside as he groaned at the pain. The arrow in his chest posed the biggest risk. She would have to heal him even as she removed it so he wouldn’t bleed out.

  With one fist around the arrow shaft and the other gripping her father’s wrist, Cassie found her center, extended her awareness toward him, and pulled the arrow free. The Chaos of the man’s wounds raged and she fought to contain it, to smother it with his own Power-augmented source of Order. It was a struggle of nature against her will, a struggle against time. The wounds wove closed, and the bleeding stopped as a shudder shook his body and left him gasping.

  “Thank you, Cassie,” he said quietly before standing tall and calling out to the crowd. “I, King Brock, demand that you throw down your weapons.” He raised his healed arm, lifting his staff high. “As you can see, Issal has healed me, for he wishes the killing to end.”

  Incredibly, the remaining soldiers began tossing weapons aside, many of them collapsing to the ground.

  The battle was over.

  A shiver shook Broland, and he gasped for air. His eyes opened to find the citadel minister beside him, concern apparent on the man’s face.

  “Thank Issal,” Minister Dryfus said. “I feared I might be too late, but I couldn’t reach you until the fires died down.”

  Broland’s stomach rumbled as he sat up. He felt through the gap in his armor and found his gash closed, the wound healed. Blood still covered his arm, but the flesh had been mended.

  Rising to his feet, he stumbled and fell to one knee, supporting himself on the dead man beside him.

  “Careful, your Highness,” Dryfus said. “You lost a lot of blood.”

  “Yes, Dryfus,” he said, glancing down the street. Over a hundred lay dead, the majority in Imperial armor. Along the side of the street, Kantarian guards stood with weapons ready, watching Imperial fighters who stood weaponless with their hands behind their heads. “See if there are others you can help.”

  The minister hurried off as Broland stood, wavering as the world tilted and spots danced before his eyes. Kantarian soldiers marched in past him with ropes and shackles in hand to bind the prisoners. The city was safe, at least for now. Broland felt relieved, but he shook with hunger.

  “Gather them up,” he said with as much force as he could muster. “Strip them of weapons and escort them to the dungeons. We will hold them until my father returns.”

  With the order issued, he turned and staggered down the street. He passed the rubble of the destroyed buildings at the end, walked through the three-foot deep hole from the bombs, and crossed the plaza outside the citadel wall. Archers on the tower cheered as he approached the gate.

  Pausing, he waited for the gate to rise, the chain clanking as the guards cranked up the portcullis. When it was locked into position, he entered and joined the frightened citizens of Wayport.

  People were huddled in clusters from wall to wall, all turning toward him as he crossed the square. Children stood beside parents while mothers held them close and fathers looked on in concern. The crowd ranged from infants to the elderly – a populace who feared for their lives, fear reflecting from each set of eyes he met.

  After climbing halfway up the stairs, Broland turned toward the crowd.

  “The immediate threat has passed,” he shouted, “but a hostile army remains outside the city. Until my father returns, I beg of you to remain here, where you are safest.”

  With that said, he sat on the stairs with a sigh, exhausted.

  “Can someone please get me something to eat?”

  41

  Aftermath

  The days following the battle were busy for everyone. Farmers left the city to return to their homes. The citizens of Wayport did the same, at least those whose homes had not been destroyed. Those who had no other place to live were provided housing within the Citadel with the promise that their homes would soon be rebuilt.

  Once stripped of their weapons and having given an oath toward peace, the Imperial soldiers were set free. Their only penance was to help clean up the destroyed north quadrant of the city and to help dispose of the dead. The latter was a concern, requiring haste to ensure the corpses did not fester. Pestilence trailing a battle of this scope was a true danger. With two thousand bodies to bury, there was little choice but to perform a mass funeral.

  The dead were stacked around the massive boulder in the heart of the battlefield, which was once again a dull gray inanimate pile of rock. The survivors from both sides gathered in a huge circle with the dead and the rock at the center. Minister Dryfus led the funeral proceedings with a brief, but sorrow-filled prayer. Cassie used a Heat augmentation to set the giant rock ablaze, creating an intense heat easily felt from two hundred feet away. The bodies burned quickly and were reduced to ash. When the fire subsided, the ash was gathered and dumped into the sea.

  Late on the second day after the battle, Cassie went in search of her father and brother to convince them to join her for a trip to the docks. She wished the reason for the outing to remain a surprise, which made convincing them difficult. After extended cajoling and promises that the trip would be worth it, her father finally gave in. Pretencia and Captain Marcella had been meeting with Brock and Broland at the time. They decided to join the party after Cassie had sufficiently stirred their curiosity.

  She led them from the chamber her father had claimed after the destruction of the throne room and down to the receiving hall. There they met Everson, Ivy, Chuli, Curan and Jonah, who had been waiting at her request.

  Jonah rested in Curan’s arms like an oversized baby. His legs lacked feeling and function since his injury, and the paralysis had affected him dramatically. Gone were the smiles and jokes Cassie had grown used to, replaced with a melancholy mood. She could not blame him. Though he was lucky to have survived, what would his life be like without the use of his legs?

  Everson gave Jonah a hopeful smile. “I understand, Jonah. I lived most of my life burdened with my weak legs. I solved the problem for myself. I can do the same for you.”

  For the first time since waking from his injury, hope glimmered in Jonah’s green eyes. “Thanks, Ev. You have always been a great friend.”

  “I am simply returning the friendship you have shown to me.”


  After an uncomfortable moment of quiet, Everson turned toward Cassie. “What’s this about, Cassie? Why so cryptic?”

  Cassie’s father stopped behind Everson, raising a brow and adding, “Yes, Cassie. Tell us.”

  Everson turned and gasped when he noticed Brock. He bowed and stammered, “I…I’m sorry, your Majesty. I didn’t…”

  “Don’t worry about it, Everson.” Brock put a hand on Everson’s shoulder. “We are all friends here.” He then turned to Cassie. “What is this about?”

  She smiled and shook her head. “Sorry. I’ll not ruin the surprise.”

  A woman’s voice came from behind her. “What surprise?”

  Cassie turned as Tenzi and Parker entered the room. Parker’s head was as bald as her father’s – the result of escaping their ship during a flashbomb explosion. Tenzi had fared better. Her hair was now shorter, but she had lost her hat in the fire.

  “We are taking a stroll down to the docks. Would you like to join us?”

  Tenzi glanced at Parker. “I guess. As a pair of sailors without anything to sail, we have little else to do at the moment.”

  Brock placed his hand on her shoulder. “Patience, Tenzi. I told you I would get you a ship.”

  She nodded. “I know. It just makes me feel…like I’ve lost a limb or something.” Her eyes landed on Marcella and widened. “Oh, I’m sorry. I need to watch what I say.”

  Marcella’s sword arm ended at the shoulder after losing it in the heat of battle. Despite the apology, she glared at Tenzi as if ready to start a fight.

  “Peace, Marcella,” Brock said. “Tenzi meant nothing by it.”

  “Yes, your Majesty,” she replied, though her face remained clouded. “I’m sure she didn’t intend to remind me of how useless I am now – just a washed-up warrior unable to swing a weapon.”

  “Put the past behind you, Marcella,” Brock said. “You no longer need to swing a sword. Your mind is the weapon that will best serve me moving forward.”

  Marcella shrugged. “As you have told me.”

  “You reported to Gunther, and you know the condition he suffered during the years prior to his death. He was less able to take the field than you are now, yet he proved his value time and again as a leader and an advisor. Did you respect him any less just because he couldn’t wield a sword?”

  The woman blinked. “No, I guess not.”

  “Good.” Brock nodded. “Now, leave your days on the battlefield behind you. I need you to focus on what you can do as my general and advisor.”

  Cassie cleared her throat to reclaim their attention. “If everyone is ready, we should leave or we will be late.”

  Broland frowned at her. “Late for what, Cassie?”

  She grinned. “You’ll see.”

  With Cassie in the lead, they headed out the front door and down the stairs, gathering an escort of a dozen guards along the way. Once outside the citadel walls, they crossed the plaza and the recently repaired section of the street. The rubble from the destroyed buildings had been removed, but the repairs had not yet begun. The streets were filled with people who moved aside to allow them past, many clapping and cheering. Death had come to their doorstep, and the group passing by had led the defense that preserved the city and saved many lives.

  Here and there, shop owners and farmers held food or trinkets toward the group as gifts. Cassie accepted an apple with thanks, and some others accepted food as well. Her father, however, took nothing and said nothing, but rather nodded and shared a forced smile. Cassie knew the deaths and destruction weighed heavily on him. He was the King, and the citizens of Kantaria were his responsibility. Leading the defense of the city only made it more evident.

  Cassie put her hand on her father’s arm. “You did your best, Father. We survived as did thousands of others who would be dead if you had failed.”

  Again, he nodded but said nothing.

  In the square, farmers stood beside their carts and clusters of people were sharing stories, buying food, and enjoying the afternoon. Everything felt as it should be. A group of young women filling buckets from the fountain paused and stared as the group marched past. The girls held their hands to their heart as they stared at Cassie’s older brother with doughy eyes.

  Foiling the capture of Wayport had gained Broland a hero’s status. As a young, attractive prince, he had also stolen the hearts of many. When Cassie noticed her brother smiling and waving at the girls, she flicked his ear with her finger.

  “Ouch. What’s that for?”

  “Your head was growing a bit big, so I was trying to pop it.”

  “Funny.”

  She grinned. “I thought so.”

  The procession turned south and entered another busy street. Cheers again followed in their wake, along with shouts for King Brock. Hearing those cheers made Cassie proud. The people of Wayport clearly loved her father as the people of Kantar had for years.

  They passed through the gap in the wall where the south gate had once stood, and the ocean breeze hit them, blowing Cassie’s hair back and forcing her to squint. The western pier remained intact. The far end of the east pier, which stood closer to the river inlet, had collapsed and burned with only broken and charred pilings now jutting above the water. Just beyond the pier, the remains of sunken wrecks dotted the bay with masts and hull sections visible. Further out, a single ship was sailing into port.

  Cassie led everyone down the pier, watching the approaching craft as it furled its sails. The ship drew near the pier and met the approaching dock workers who caught thrown lines and guided the vessel in before tying them off. By the time the ship was docked, Cassie and her entourage were approaching the end of the pier.

  The boarding plank was extended and lowered to the dock. A sailor crossed the plank and began speaking with the dock workers.

  “Cassie,” Brock said, sounding annoyed. “I have much to do. Why are we here?”

  Her face split in a grin, and she pointed. “That’s why.”

  Brandt, Quinn, and Delvin appeared at the ship’s rail. Cassie waved, and Brandt waved back at her.

  “Everson!” Quinn blurted as she ran down the plank and hugged her brother.

  Brandt followed to hug Cassie, lifting and spinning her, his embrace squeezing her hard enough to force a cough. He set her down and clasped Broland’s arm, both smiling broadly. Turning toward his father, Brandt nodded.

  “Hello, Father.”

  A tear ran down Brock’s face, and he embraced Brandt with a bear hug. “I feared I might never see you again, Son.”

  Cassie wiped tears from her eyes as she turned toward Quinn, who had finished hugging Chuli. “I’m glad you kept him alive.”

  Quinn smirked at Brandt. “It wasn’t easy.”

  Delvin clapped his hands, drawing everyone’s attention. “If you are finished with your blabbering, I could really use a hot meal and a soothing bath.”

  They laughed, turned, and headed back toward the citadel with Cassie feeling better than she had in months.

  Broland and the others listened intently as Brandt relayed his tale – a tale that began with the blond girl standing beside him. This girl, Quinn, first arrived in Sol Polis to take a position as a maid at the citadel. With a conniving plan and a bit of luck, she soon finagled her way into the Archon’s trust and became the woman’s personal bodyguard. The duo then described how they freed King Pretencia from the dungeons and sent him off to Sol Polis on Tenzi’s ship. Pretencia, who had joined them in Brock’s study, reiterated his thanks to Brandt and Quinn. While the king’s escape had been impressive, things only grew more incredible after that.

  Stealing a map marking the secret location where flash powder weapons were crafted led to another mission. Brandt and Quinn had journeyed to an old, hidden castle in the Sol Kai Mountains, infiltrated the facility, and destroyed it before fleeing for their lives.

  “Hold on, Brandt,” Broland’s father said. “Where did you learn about this Speed rune?”

  Bran
dt looked at Cassie with an arched brow. She shrugged. “I thought Cassie would have told you by now. She discovered it shortly before I left for Sol Polis. We tested it once on an animated boulder but never on a human until that moment.”

  Brock stared at Brandt for a long moment. “You do realize how dangerous that was?”

  Nodding, Brandt’s gaze found the floor. “Yes. I know.” He looked back up at the man. “Desperation…”

  “Sometimes outweighs risk,” Brock finished the sentence. “I know quite well.” He then turned to Cassie. “You can visit the dreams of others and discover new uses for Chaos. What else are you not telling me? What other uses have you found?”

  “You now know it all, Father,” Cassie said. “I already told you about the Stealth augmentation and of how I woke Mother from her coma. The Speed rune was the only other thing of note.”

  “Stealth augmentation?” Brandt asked, now his turn to arch a brow at Cassie.

  She grinned. “It’s wonderful, Brandt. Your footsteps and movements are silent, and you are nearly invisible, even in broad daylight.”

  “Nearly?”

  “Apparently, movements are sometimes perceptible from someone’s peripheral vision.”

  “Now that is an interesting use of magic,” Delvin Garber said, slouching on the sofa, his hand on his belly as if he had overeaten – which was likely after the way the man had attacked his food. “I would very much like to test it out.”

  Brandt ignored him and focused on his sister. “And, other than peripheral movement, you are undetectable when using this rune?”

  “Yes. Well, other than perhaps your odor.” Cassie grinned. “You do need a bath, you know.”

  “He does,” Quinn agreed. “As do I. It has been a hard week, and I can barely stand my own scent at the moment.” Her eyes widened and she looked at Brock. “I apologize if that was inappropriate, your Majesty.”