Shorty stuck his head round, “Umm, your mayorship sir, there’s a couple of Janshai out here.” He opened the door, the Janshai strode in and the mayor’s office was officially standing room only.
“Well,” said Prince Aron. “We better get off; the cows won’t milk themselves.”
The Janshai raised his hand and stopped him. “That’s a fine sword for a farmer.”
“Right,” said Aron. “You got me, I’m Prince Aron of Terramis.”
The Janshai froze for a second, and then laughed. “Yeah right, he’s up in the Misty Mountains, our units have probably hunted him down by now. Food for worms!”
“Suit yourself,” said Aron, and stepped past him followed by Daylon.
“This appears to be a bit of a dog’s dinner. I suggest we find Sumnar and get the hell out of here.”
Though when they stepped outside the Mayor’s office they found themselves confronted by six horsemen. The Janshai leader followed them. He reached down and removed Aron’s sword. “Very nice, I think I’ll keep this. Stick these two in the jail, search them, and find out who they are!”
The Janshai turned back round and glowered at the mayor. “Right, care to explain what is happening in this ’ere town of yours?”
*
Old Shifty excused himself, bowed and apologised profusely, and headed back to the main square and the Seven Stars Inn. Frankly he had never done anything for anyone else in his life. He was getting a serious case of butterflies. Though he was no friend of the Janshai, as they were bad for business, as every dead town member was at least four less pockets to pick.
Maruq had searched the usual places where bottom dwellers dwell but had found no sign of Old Shifty. Therefore, it was all the more surprising to find him sitting talking to Sumnar on his return to the public lounge of the Seven Stars Inn.
“So,” said Sumnar, “Prince Aron and Daylon got themselves arrested by the Janshai and put in jail until the Janshai find out who they are. By a quirk of fate, they also had our bags and the artefacts we were carrying. The downside is that the Janshai now have them, but at least they don’t know what they have got. There is no sign of Aron’s other companions but I assume they are in town somewhere.”
“Umm, well if I am not mistaken,” Maruq said looking through the window, “that’s Leo standing in the square.”
Fayette saw Leo and dashed out of the Inn. She ran up to him, gave him a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. “How dare you abandon me and go gallivanting around the countryside!” and hugged him again.
“Leave me alone crazy girl,” said Saturnus. “This is why I live in a cave, all this hugging and kissing, I can really do without it.”
Fayette stood back confused, only to find another Leo running towards her. “Don’t ask! It’s great to see you, I missed you!” He gave her a hug.
She stepped back with her hands on her hips, looking at him with a smile on her face. She was as beautiful as he remembered but whatever journey she had taken had seemingly released her from the etiquette and grooming of the life of a princess. Her auburn hair flowed free down her back, her ivory complexion weathered by the elements.
Ailin and Aland came into view as Sumnar stepped out of the Inn. “Well you two are a sight for sore eyes,” and again hugged both of them.
“Now, while you two were taking warm baths and jumping up and down on your beds, your Prince and your seer got themselves arrested by the Janshai. By the way they have the Earth Totem with them.
“Let’s all go inside. It’s going to take some time and effort to explain what’s been going on. We need to come up with a plan quickly to free the Prince and Daylon. Perhaps an ale or two will help fire up the old grey matter.”
Aksel, and his second-in-command Raisa, watched all this from afar. “I am struggling to put all the pieces together,” he said. “But destiny appears to bring us to this place. The levers of a great machine are turning and many of its cogs, one way or another, are gathered here. We must choose our timing well. I sense the time for us to act is approaching.”
*
Prince Aron and Daylon sat in a jail cell. The small militia office had two cells. The other was occupied by Light Fingers Sid, who behind the Janshai’s backs was practising opening and closing the lock of his cell. Repeatedly.
“Any reason you’re hanging around?” asked Daylon.
“I got to take my punishment and wipe the slate clean. What’s the use of being a pickpocket if everyone is chasing you every time you go outside? Can’t earn an honest crust sitting in my own hovel picking my own pockets now can I. Nope, gotta do my time and then I can get back to picking pockets free and clear.”
“Well how about opening our lock and he’ll give you a pardon,” said Daylon.
“Who’s he, King Armanar?”
“Close enough!”
Light Fingers Sid opened the two doors. The Prince stepped out, picked up a stool, and slammed it over the heads of two Janshai guards who had not been paying attention. He grabbed up his sword and the bags, peered out the front door of the militia office, and seeing the coast was clear, strutted off down to the square.
The Prince entered the Seven Stars Inn just as Sumnar was finalising the plan. “So, Old Shifty and his urchins burn the barn on the far side of Everstead to create a diversion; Aland and Ailin ride to the Janshai camp and steal any horses they find.
“While the Janshai are checking out the barn, myself and the clan storm the jail, free Aron and Daylon.
“We then meet at the stables at the south of the town, pick up the cart and head to the woods where we can find some cover.”
“Helluva plan, we should do it anyway just to see if it works. Should we go back to our cell?” said Daylon.
Prince Aron looked around. “Well quite a gathering we have here! Who thought Everstead would be so popular!”
Fayette stepped forward and thumped her brother on his shoulder. “I can’t believe you left Ampheus without saying goodbye. I will never forgive you.”
Then she threw her arms around him and hugged him.
“Fayette, what are you doing here? Why are you not at the castle?” He turned to Sumnar. “Sumnar. I’ve not seen you for years and now you turn up in the middle of nowhere with my sister. You better have a good reason for this.”
“Sire,” replied Sumnar. “Your sister is more accomplished than you’d imagine. I believe she is more than capable of looking after herself. And besides, it looked as if Ampheus was about to fall. The King made the decision that she should accompany me to find you.”
“The castle has fallen,” gasped the Prince.
“I don’t know, perhaps, perhaps not. We made our escape with the totem before it was overrun. There was still hope. But my concern is here and now. We must take our leave before the Janshai return.”
The Prince paused, “My only worry is the people of Everstead. What would happen to them if we slipped away? The Janshai may seek retribution.”
“We either stand and fight or depart in such a way they are compelled to leave the town in peace!” suggested Sumnar.
“I vote we fight,” said Maruq.
“That is very gallant of you,” replied Aron.
“Not really,” said Maruq. “Thirty Janshai horsemen just lined up outside the inn. Sort of calls our hand really.”
They stepped out one by one, except Old Shifty who went out the back door.
Chapter 8
The Black Wizard
“Right,” said the Janshai. “Let me guess; you are in fact Prince Aron.” Aron bowed his head.
“We’ve been looking all over the Misty Mountains for you, it’s sort of ironic that you just land in our lap. So, let me check out your ragtag army: three Amphean knights; five Nyle Ice Field Clan; a small man; a nun; two girls; and by the looks of things twin boys. It’s not exactly Ampheus’s finest is it?”
“Well don’t judge a book by its cover, we are more than a match for thirty Janshai horsemen. In fact, I hereby accept your surrender.”
“What?”
“I hereby accept your surrender. You are all prisoners of King Armanar.”
“We are not, Janshai don’t submit to anyone.”
“Really, it looks like you are surrendering, you all turned up here.”
“We are not surrendering!”
“It’s your last chance.”
“No!” the Janshai bellowed. “The only question is how many of you will die before you concede to me!”
“Well that’s a little embarrassing, we thought you were giving up.”
The Janshai shook his head. “And just one more thing, not only have you delivered yourselves into my hands. Did you think I would not recognise the Earth Totem? Once again, thank you for handing it over to us. For your information the totem is already with a unit of my men heading to Gorath as we speak. Honestly, this could only be easier if your own men simultaneously slipped in the mud and fell upon their own swords.”
“Don’t count on it,” said Prince Aron gritting his teeth.
Murmurings were uttered from the Janshai horsemen as another eight Janshai entered the square and drew to a halt next to the Prince.
“Perhaps we can even up the numbers a little.”
“Aksel!” spat the Janshai captain. “I always knew you were too weak to be a real Janshai. You will die a traitor just like your father.”
“Weak!” shouted Raisa. “At least Aksel wants something better for our people. We are willing to fight so the Janshai can regain our pride and dignity.”
“Be quiet Terramian stray, it does not surprise me to see you by his side. As for the rest of you, if you join us now, I will be lenient. Else you will die as traitors and outcasts.”
He waited, no one moved. “Well then, seems like we fight after all. Perhaps I’ll give you five minutes rather than thirty seconds.”
The Janshai raised his sword and the horsemen charged.
The Janshai was wrong, the combat only lasted three minutes.
In fact, it was swayed by four unexpected factors:
First, the five clan members and one of the girls turned into wolves. They ripped into horse and man with a ferocity that forced the Janshai to retreat in the square.
Secondly, that the Amphean monk muttered an incantation and started throwing fireballs at the Janshai, setting them on ablaze as the fireballs exploded.
Thirdly, that the two remaining knights fired off their crossbows and appeared to hit their targets at will, killing a Janshai each time.
And fourthly, a mob of a hundred or so townsfolk stormed the square. They wielded pitchforks and other pointy agricultural equipment and started skewering the Janshai with abandon.
Aksel turned to the Prince, “Shall we join in, or will that just confuse matters?”
“Looks like everything is in hand. I would stay here for the moment unless things start going south. Else you’ll likely get run through by a pitchfork.”
Three minutes and forty-five seconds could feel like a long time if you are waiting for a pot to boil on a stove; if someone is holding your head underwater; or perhaps if an old woman is recounting tales from her youth. But that could not be said for the captain of the Janshai as even in slow motion the next few minutes would have passed too quickly.
The first observation that went through his head was that an arrow travels faster through the air than a fireball, which in turn is quicker than the ferocious leap of a baying wolf. He knew this because instantly his sergeant who was sat on his mount next to him let out a screaming gurgle as a crossbow bolt buried itself through his eye. He momentarily grappled with the arrow as jelly and blood oozed from his eye socket around the arrow shaft. When his brain caught up with the fact he was dead already, he toppled slowly backwards off his horse.
The Captain turned to his lieutenant on his left only to see a scorching bolt of flame sear a hole through his trunk. The skin on his face melted and bled down his skull and the hair on his head burst into a fizzing orange flame. The captain wretched from the stench of burning flesh and hair.
As he turned back towards his assailants he was just in time to catch the reins as his stallion reared up on its hind legs, its eyes bulging with fear as the huge wolf crashed into its chest burying its fangs into his horse’s neck. The wolf’s momentum threw the stallion backwards and it landed squirming with its legs striking the air. The wolf stood astride the fallen horse, and with one twist of its muscular neck it ripped an enormous gaping hole in the horses neck. The stallion fell limp as its spinal cord hung loosely shattered in the ragged wound.
Blood sprayed on the wolf’s face, flesh dripped from the wolf’s fangs as it threw its head back and howled a carnal cry. The roar perhaps could roughly have been translated as ‘yes, more blood and guts please!’
The captain had been thrown sideways from his horse. He’d got a forearm under him, but not enough to cushion the full force of the fall. His chest had still taken a heavy blow and he winced at the pain of perhaps two shattered ribs as he kicked his legs and arms to drive himself backwards from the wolf that now turned his attention towards him. A snarl rumbled its way out of its throat as the hair bristled on its back and it crept menacingly towards him. The captain tried to grab his sword that dragged underneath his body, but he was caught in two minds, escape or defend himself.
Panic rose up inside him, as he could hear the clash of steel, the shrieks and cries, the groans and whimpers of the melee around them. Actually, melee is far too fine a word, and fracas or skirmish too tame. This was a blood bath, carnage, a primal slaughter. These were no cries of battle; these were screams of panic and shrieks of terror.
The captain felt a hand grab underneath his armpit and pull him up, and he turned to see one of his men. Once on his feet he was able to release his sword and hold it in front of him, shaking in his hand. He pointed it at the wolf as if daring it to run directly onto its point and impale itself.
A moment later his horseman was lifted off the ground, his body twisted. He released an agonising wail before crumpling with a snapping and cracking of bones after being flung across the square and into the side of the building.
The captain knew he had to rally his men, “To me,” he yelled, and winced from the effort. “To me, we make a stand!”
His men pulled back towards him and he looked into their faces. It was not a look he expected to see from the Janshai, wide-eyed, afraid. Anger welled up inside him and he snarled at his men.
“Janshai warriors, defeat is one thing, humiliation is something else; if you are not going to fight then you lose your honour.”
A horseman broke free from the fighting in front of him. The Janshai backed off and turned to his captain, and scowled, “This may be our last breath, but we’ll take as many of these peasants with us, they make me…”
He froze mid-sentence and looked in shock at his officer. Then they both looked at his chest where three iron spikes had erupted. He coughed and spat blood over his captain’s face, as his legs sagged under him. He dropped to his knees and the captain looked directly behind him at the farmer who had just plunged his pitchfork into his man. The captain slashed his sword down on the farmer, cleaving his head clean in two. His followed through severing half of the head from the body. The eye was still blinking as it squelched to the ground, so, he stepped forward stamping on it, shattering the skull and spewing pink slimy brains across the cobbles.
He retreated to his few remaining men. The baying peasants edged closer towards them. They darted in and out again, attempting to strike as he slapped away a hoe and a scythe. They were cornered and could not retreat any further. They jostled each other for position, trying to remain a unit and at the same time giving each enough space to wield their blades in defence.
&
nbsp; A small rat-faced peasant darted forward and swung his flail at him. The captain ducked the heavy implement that whistled over his head and thrust his sword into the peasant’s chest. He twisted the sword and the peasant wailed with agony as he fell face first to the ground. He stepped back and looked at the few Janshai left, many of whom were carrying injuries.
Behind him a wolf had embedded his teeth into a horseman’s face, gnawing and thrashing at the skull. The horseman’s arms and legs twitched and spasmed, as the wolf’s fangs dug into his brain. He knew his men; they would fight to the last. The captain cursed under his breath. A large man ran at him, their eyes met only for a moment and the man smirked at him.
The peasant swung a grubbing axe down on him, the captain tried to feint to parry it but the force of the blow and weight of the weapon was too great. It sliced through his armour, crushing his collarbone and embedding itself in his chest. He winced, as his left arm went limp, and he turned to look at the massive trauma, he could hardly move, his brain was overwhelmed by the pain. As his mouth opened and closed, another man, snarling and baring his stained black teeth, rushed at him with a fork and drove it deep into his chest; blood rose to his lips, he coughed and blood splattered on the cobbles.
Darkness overwhelmed him and he fell forward, but his dying body did not hit the ground, instead it remained, suspended, held up by the fork. His body twisted into an unnatural demonic pose. His eyes set in a cold sightless stare, the blood dripping from his wounds into a sticky pool of blood that puddled beneath him on the cobblestones.
Four minutes later the Prince stepped through the bodies strewn around the square. In addition to the Janshai, one of the wolves lay slain; a few of the townsfolk had fallen. The rest of the allies suffering only a few cuts and bruises.
The Prince saw Old Shifty, “Well you crafty old bugger, seems like you saved the day.”
“Actually the townsfolk did not need much persuading, they were sick and tired of the Janshai throwing their weight around. They did it more for their own town than anything.”
Dryw Henge Page 10