Dryw Henge

by Jonathan Forth

  Once the Windstrom guards had understood that one of the three arrivals was an Amphean knight, they decided to have her escorted directly to the Queen. Given she was accompanied by a Janshai, they were flanked by Windstrom infantry as they entered. The Windstrom Commander, Commander Favian joined them.

  Ailin was confused to find Her Majesty and Gulden present. She bowed to the Queen and then immediately threw her arms around Gulden, pleased to see an old friend. She did not notice Mia smart a little in the background.

  “We took a southern route, through the Great Forest of Tarn to avoid the Janshai that are still patrolling the woods. We were going to head east to see if any of our companions had survived the fighting at Dryw Henge and had escaped in that direction.

  “When we caught sight of the Windstrom Army in the distance, we felt we should approach to see if anyone else had found their way here. It appears not.”

  Ailin paused and lowered her head, her voice hardly a whisper, “Your Majesty, I am sorry I have grave news. I believe it is very likely that the King and Logar both fell in the fighting at Dryw Henge.”

  The Queen gasped and swayed a little. She grabbed hold of a chair to steady herself and waved off Gulden who stepped forward to support her.

  “What about Aron?” she asked after gathering herself.

  “He is as well as can be expected having seen his father fall at the hands of Vane. He, Urien, and Sumnar are returning with the remainder of the cavalry to Windfell Woods from where they will form a resistance. They will be pleased the Windstrom Army is on its way to Ampheus. As you get closer it would be wise to make contact with them.”

  “Vane?”

  “Gorath, or Vane as he now calls himself, will be heading back to Ampheus with all of the totems, more powerful than ever. The future looks very bleak.”

  “Also,” she turned to Commander Favian, “Vane has the Air Totem. He boasted that Celestina had been sacked.”

  Mia gasped, “It cannot be!” She thought of her mother and panicked suddenly considering her fate.

  Commander Favian bowed and shook his head, “Is there no end to the misery of these times? There was a skeletal force left to defend the city. The old, the young; Celestina was not a threat to anyone. What price must it have paid to surrender the totem? I imagine the Elders would not have yielded and relinquished it easily. I fear the sacrifice may be more than we who remain can bear.

  “We must continue to Ampheus, but I will send a small contingent of cavalry back to Celestina. Perhaps fifty men to see what they can do for the city. Hopefully there will be survivors, and likely they will aid those unable to fend for themselves. The injured, the old, the young, they will need our help.”

  “I will go too,” insisted Mia.

  “Do you think that is wise?” asked Gulden. “A long hard ride will be too arduous in your condition.”

  Mia turned and gave him a thunderous look. “Are we about to have our first fight, because believe me this is one you will lose?”

  Gulden raised his hands in mock surrender, “I think that is a look that will take some getting used to. I will go too. I sense the Janshai have a hand in this and there are still debts to be paid.”

  Commander Favian nodded, “Leave as soon as you can, travel light, it’ll be perhaps just under a week’s fast riding. God speed, the lives of Celestinians that remain may depend on it.”

  *

  Worak sat in the high chair of the Windstrom Communion Hall. He rested his feet on the chair in front, looking down into the pit below. His horsemen had cleared all of the pews and had now formed a small amphitheatre. They’d driven a stake into the ground in the middle of the floor. Shackled to it by its ankle was a black gargoyle; slowly prowling around it was one of the scavengers that the Black Wizard had summoned from Gamuran caves.

  Worak had strict orders. Once the city was taken, establish a rotation of lookouts and sentries in case of any retaliatory actions. Fortify the strategic positions, including the main thoroughfares and key installations such as the food stores and armouries. Search the city quadrant by quadrant to root out any survivors that may pose a threat and deal with them appropriately. Appropriately in this case meant a swift end from the thrust of a blade. Under no circumstances was there to be any pillaging, plundering or carousing.

  He had one hundred horsemen to accomplish this. For professional soldiers it was routine and second nature given the strict training of military men.

  The Black Wizard had reinforced these expectations to him as he left. “Decide on your best base of operations and have your men stationed there. It’ll give you a solid foothold to organise your men, or to fall back to if in any instance you are overrun. Position archers in good firing lines to cover the likely routes into the city. It’ll ensure they can mobilise quickly enough to provide support in any area where the enemy is approaching from. Try and avoid the inside of buildings, it’s difficult to hit anything from a window, and once your men are in them they may be trapped. Keep the horses somewhere safe as a last resort, to get you out of trouble if needed.”

  The Black Wizard kicked his stallion into a gallop, and headed from the city, flanked by two of his apprentices.

  Worak could not believe he’d just been given a lesson on military matters from a wizard.

  He saluted sarcastically involving a number of rotations of his hand before snapping it to attention and gave an equally sarcastic, “Yes sir!” though only when the Black Wizard was out of earshot by this time, and strode back into Celestina.

  *

  A few days later the horsemen were taking a break from the plundering, pillaging and carousing, mostly because they were all now too drunk. The first installation they had secured was the brewery. Happy in the knowledge their primary military objective had been accomplished, they decided they needed some well-earned rest and recuperation.

  They were now standing around the amphitheatre yelling their support for either the gargoyle or the scavenger. They made wagers on the fight to the death that played out in front of them.

  Dog and cock fighting was almost a national pastime in Gamura, thanks to the Black Wizard it had been taken to a whole new level.

  Worak himself sat on the high chair draped in a velvet purple robe. His fingers adorned by gemstones set on ornate rings and heavy golden chains hung round his neck. His look was rounded off by an ornate crown sitting at a slant on his head, inlaid with rubies, diamonds and emeralds. His horsemen were equally festooned with garments and jewellery they had pilfered. They made for quite a dandy group.

  When they had first entered the city there remained a few gargoyles and scavengers that were still prowling the streets for prey. Many had returned to the fault and the caves of Gamura. Given they could not distinguish between the good and the bad guys, in this instance the good guys being the Janshai, this became a bit of a problem. Of course, the easiest answer would have been just to kill any they found. It appeared ‘easy’ may not be a word that existed in the Janshai vocabulary.

  The first thought for most Janshai tends to be, how can we make this as blood thirsty as possible? So, this was solved with the brilliant, but slightly more complicated, solution of ‘let’s find some nets; capture as many as we can; stick them in the dungeons for a few days without food to whet their appetites so to speak; and then let them fight to the death’.

  They’d initially chained surviving Celestinians to the stake, but frankly it was a bit one-sided. None had lasted very long. Beast against beast, that was the answer.

  Worak took a swig from the beer jug; most of the brown liquid spilling down his beard. He raised the sceptre he held and dropped it at which moment the scavenger was released.

  The men thrust forward to the rails of the amphitheatre to get a better vantage point.

  A thick leather collar attached to a wooden pole held the scavenger, but even two men were having trouble
controlling the powerful beast. Slobber spilled from the sides of its jaw of razor sharp teeth as it curled its snarling lips and snapped at the men. As it thrust its muscular head from side to side it pulled both men, staggering them from their feet. When they managed to release it, it instantly leapt forward and attacked the gargoyle with maniacal ferocity. The dark angel hissed and spat at the scavenger, its wings lifting it from the ground out of reach of the sharp fangs of the fearless beast that snapped at it from below.

  As in previous fights it was a slow duel. The scavenger’s instincts were to inflict the maximum damage in the shortest amount of time. The gargoyle knew that if the beast bit hold of it, it would drag it down to the ground slowly tearing the life out of the dark angel. So, it stayed as high as possible. The dark angel though slowly tired, gradually losing height, falling to within the scavenger’s reach. It would screech in fear and alarm. Eventually, in panic it would thrash down on the beast with its talons, slicing gashes in the scavenger’s face and back. But the beast ignored the pain, its own blood lust driving it into a frenzy. The gargoyle needed to strike a fatal blow, perhaps slash an artery, and bleed the beast to submission. It darted down and struck with its talons then thrust back into the air with a sweep of its black wings, but the beast got a hold of the gargoyle’s leg and tore it to the ground.

  The beast trampled on its prey tearing at the gargoyle, ripping at its leathery skin. As the dark angel crumpled to the ground it arched its back. It tried to lift itself back into flight still ripping with its talons, but the beast buried it jaws into its ribcage and crunched its bones in its mighty jaw. It plunged its snout into the gargoyle’s chest and ripped its heart and lungs from its body and flung them aside as the gargoyle fell limp. It raised its head and let out a blood-curdling roar that echoed around the Communion Hall then went back to feasting on the remains of the dark angel.

  The Janshai cheered and the winners slapped one another on their backs. Money changed hands and beer jugs were clashed against each other spilling slops of foam that puddled the floor. Once a place for peace, the Communion Hall had now become a bloody amphitheatre of death.

  Chapter 17

  Insurgence

  The camp had slowly taken shape in the forest. They found a clearing not far from the convent. They levelled the ground as best they could, avoiding the lower lying areas that may be susceptible to flooding from the water running off from the forest hills. They avoided the ancient trails of the forest boars and bears. The last thing you need in the middle of the night is to be trampled by an irritated boar that’s found someone sleeping on his trail. It would be unlikely that they’d tiptoe round you so as not to disturb your sleep. They tried to steer clear of anthills, which would otherwise result in an uncomfortable night’s kip.

  Lines of bivouacs were established where the men rested and slept while they were not training.

  Aron was now standing next to the fire pit warming his hands; Urien and Sumnar were either side him although facing the opposite direction warming their bottoms.

  The fire flickered and crackled in the dark of the night, sparks leaping upwards from the wood and the flames.

  The large boar was roasting on the spit, its skin bubbling and hissing under the heat, fat dripping into the embers and turning the flames a blue hue.

  “If it was not for the warmth I would stand somewhere else. The smell of the boar is making my mouth water,” said Sumnar.

  “Indeed, but one has to temper the urge to enjoy this moment too much, and to try and imagine what our fellow Terramians are eating within the castle tonight,” admonished Aron.

  “That was mean of you. Can we just not enjoy the food without the guilt?”

  “I want to ensure we are not distracted from our ultimate goal: the defeat of Vane and an end to the siege of Ampheus,” added the Prince.

  “The word is being spread. We have almost three hundred men and women here now,” said Urien.

  “More will come.”

  “But let us be vigilant. No strangers. Only those that are known to us or known to those that have already arrived. Better still known to at least two of us. The one thing we can be thankful of is that it is unlikely a Janshai or Gamuran will infiltrate us given their distinct markings,” added Aron.

  “Still we have established lookout points from the trees for a two-mile radius from here. If there is any sign of Janshai or Horde they will raise the alarm and give the men time to ready themselves in preparation for battle. I’d be surprised if we are discovered. We are far enough away to be out of reach of Vane’s scouts so I don’t think they will stumble across us.”

  “The men are gathering wood for bows and arrows. Most of the men have their own weapons so it’s more ammunition that is needed. The horses have been taken down to the valley daily to graze and drink. They are regaining their strength after the trek from Dryw Henge,” said Urien.

  “We should start commencing our raids to disrupt Vane’s supply lines. It may not have a major impact but it may prove an irritation and give him something else to think about,” added Aron.

  “What about Ampheus, I think we should make contact. The tunnel is the obvious way,” suggested Sumnar.

  “Agreed but let’s not take any more risks than we need to. We certainly don’t want Vane and his troops becoming aware of the entrance as it would further weaken Ampheus’s defences.”

  “Agreed,” said Sumnar.

  “Sumnar why don’t you and Urien take the caves back into the castle?

  “We can assess their current standing and then decide what steps to take next.”

  “Sounds like a plan. I will need a dead goat and a round ball just in case,” added Sumnar.

  “Should I ask?” Urien chuckled.

  And Sumnar smiled.

  *

  Dorf paced up and down the battlements. He looked down at where he stood to see if he’d worn a shallow dip in the stone slabs where he’d paced up and down over the past few weeks. He was not someone prone to fretting yet could not remember a time when he did not have the counsel of one of Ampheus’s senior commanders to count on if he’d needed it. If the King was away, there was always Logar or Urien to advise him on matters.

  Keilif was of course still in the castle, but Keilif would be the first to say that if you wanted to know how to fire an arrow long and straight, then he was your man. Any of the finer points of military strategy, or indeed opinions for the defence of Ampheus, and then he was definitely not your man. At least he offered moral support if not any startling insights to their current predicament.

  Eventually he shrugged and said, “I can have my men keep firing arrows at them.”

  “Hold your arrows for now,” responded Dorf. “From now on we are just giving them our ammunition. I think we just wait for their next move.”

  He looked up at the cloudy grey sky above, the rain beating down on the battlements. For a moment he traced a single drop that angled down towards him and landed on the bridge of his nose.

  “This rain sucks all joy from your heart,” he groaned, “but if there is a silver lining, the Horde are unlikely to attack when the weather is this bad.”

  “We may starve,” responded Keilif ruefully, “but we won’t die of thirst that’s for sure.”

  He looked down at the lake by the main gate. It had taken the Horde weeks but he had to hand it to them. They’d managed first to fill it in then widened and built supports for the crossing to support the battering ram, and the army that would follow.

  Who knew what they’d thrown in there: rocks, mud, sand, anything that they could get their hands on and would sink. They’d bombarded them with thousands of arrows, god knows how many of the Horde they had killed, and most were now buried in the foundations. They’d just chucked the bodies in the lake after the debris.

  Every now and then a body would float to the surface.

 
He assumed now they were just waiting for Gorath’s return from Dryw Henge to start the final assault. He had no idea how it had played out, but the force of the blow that had resonated off the battlements did not inspire him with confidence. He wondered what might have become of his friends. Hope for the best but prepare for the battering ram. And that was exactly what he was doing.

  They had taken stock of provisions once more. Perhaps they had a month’s worth, or two, of beans, peas, wheat and salt pork. That was despite some of the wheat stores, which had spoiled to the east of the city that faced the prevailing rains. Some of the stocks of salted pork had also started rotting. It did not matter, he was sure that a second attempt to take Ampheus would come soon enough.

  In the meantime they had been fortifying the barbican. In fact, by filling it in, it meant the Ampheans would not be able to get out, but then they did not need or want to. Mind you the owner of the nearby ‘Barbican Inn’ was none too pleased. They dismantled his inn brick by brick and used the masonry to fill the barbican tunnel. He’d run out of beer several weeks ago and so there was not much call for business. Though the irony of the name of his tavern was not lost on him. The weeping man was consoled by his wife while a train of soldiers dismantled his livelihood, two nearby observers were heard to comment that he was not crying from the loss of his tavern, it was the fact was that he’d have to live with his mother-in-law until his likely death at the hands of the Horde.

  The Horde may break through the drawbridge and main gate, but instead of running the barbican they would have to dig through fifty feet of bricks and mortar. Dorf chuckled. They won’t be expecting it. It will delay the Horde by another week as they burrow through while being bombarded by rocks, pitch or arrows from above.

  “I wonder if we are doing enough?” he said out loud to no one in particular.

  “From where I’m standing it looks like you are doing a fine job. Urien, what do you think? Perhaps you may be out of a job soon.” Spoke Sumnar.