by William Cali
Then the end was in sight. He saw the top of the staircase and a large set of rectangular doors with a torch on each side. Finally, he had arrived. His goal achieved, he began shaking uncontrollably. This is just more nerves. Calm down. Calm down, you silly fool. This is what you came to do!
As if on cue, the doors in front of him opened. A thin man, shorter than Gilbrand, with long dark hair emerged. His face was obscured under the shadow of a hooded robe.
“Are you…? Lord Yozer!” Gilbrand fell to his knees in subservience to his lord.
The hooded one chuckled. It was a low, dry cackle, like crows squawking over a meal, but so quiet that Gilbrand was unsure he had even made the noise at all. “Rise, oh so noble nobleman. To prostrate yourself in such a demeaning manner, what a noble man you must be!” He laughed again, louder, harsher this time. His cackle carried down the flights of stairs, filled the entire room, and seemed to drill into Gilbrand’s very mind. The laughter halted abruptly. “I am Agme, Master Yozer’s apprentice and confidant. You must have had a harrowing journey to have made it this far. Did you enjoy the hemites? I find them repulsive. They move as if a slug fell into the sea and was swollen to the size of a man.” He shrugged as he spoke. “But they have their purpose. Lesser creatures cannot resist their pull, to their own demise.”
Gilbrand mulled over the words, muttering a silent thanks that he had managed to resist the creatures. When he didn’t respond, Agme continued. “Why have you come to master’s home?”
“Ah, my apologies.” Gilbrand rose slowly, his joints throbbing from his journey. “I am Gilbrand, one of Lor—Master Yozer’s loyal vassals. I wish to speak with Master Yozer, in regard to a mutual enemy that we may both seek to destroy.”
Agme remained still. He did not appear to even draw breath. When he spoke, it was with a cool control that unnerved Gilbrand. “Intriguing… A new enemy? The master has spoken of his boredom as of late. Perhaps a distraction would be warranted. Please, follow me, noble lord.” He slipped through the open doors.
Gilbrand paused for a moment. He glanced back down the stairs, and then followed Agme through the doors.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Here’s what I’ve got.” Pent laid out his broad strokes plan for Somerville. The villagers willing to fight for the town would be given the tools to fight for themselves. The entire town would turn into a manufacturing line in the lead up to the confrontation, creating weapons, armor, and bombs. Defensive fortifications at the entrance of town would funnel all of the aggressors in one direction, and traps along the way would slow them down. Hopefully, at the end of it all, Somerville would be armed enough to meet the challenges facing them.
He gestured towards Faldo. “Show them the map.”
“Yes, yes.” Faldo rolled a small piece of parchment out onto the table. The paper revealed Somerville and the surrounding areas. The edges of the map were cracked; the lines drawn were faded from years of use. “Somerville is situated here in the middle of a shallow valley. This spot was originally chosen by my grandfather as a place that could be defended easily. His wisdom will be a boon to us now. Attackers cannot approach from any side but from the riverhead, and the path is narrow enough to limit the number of people who can approach. The cliff sides are treacherous, there is no foothold to attack from, and a drop from them means certain death. If we can fortify the position we have here, we will survive.” Faldo pulled out a pen and a small container of ink and marked some places on the map. “At the front of the town, here and here, we can set up fortifications. I’ll only need a few hands to help me draw these up, and from these fortifications, we can harass our enemy with arrows. And perhaps other weapons that I have recently been made aware of.” Faldo looked up at Pent when he said this last piece.
Chief Pohk’s eyebrow rose as if on reflex. “Other weapons? What is he referring to?”
“In my world, people are really, really good at finding new ways to kill each other. Somebody figured out that when fire touches the right kind of thing, it explodes. And we can make these explosives here. Handheld explosives, firebombs specifically. They’ll be very useful if we can box everyone up at the entrance to Somerville. We’ve got more than enough stock to make them; you can thank Lemen for that. We pour some of his liquor into containers, and we can turn them into bombs.” He glanced around at the confused looks surrounding the table. “Explosives. Like, you throw it at something, and it gets destroyed in a big ball of flame.”
Mother Lyle spit out the drink she was enjoying. “This stuff catches fire?”
Pent laughed at the look of horror on her face. “Yeah, it does. It’s not poisonous, though. Well, I guess it is poisonous. Okay, let me try to explain.” He tried to explain the nuances of alcohol to them, realizing as he spoke that he wasn’t really sure how the chemistry of alcohol worked, either. But these people were clueless of the nature of what they were putting in their bodies. “So, it is poisonous, but the poison is what’s getting you drunk. It’s okay as long as you don’t drink too much of it. That sickness and headache you get when you over drink? Too much poison in the body.”
“And it won’t catch fire?” Lyle was eyeing her mug as she spoke. She had pushed it away from her to the center of the table.
“No, it won’t. As long as you don’t drop a flame into it. I’m really surprised no one has seen this happen here already, either by accident or curiosity. But that’s a key part of my plan here. You get a bottle, something with a small opening at the top. Fill it with booze. And then put a rag or some twine into the opening, some way to light it on fire without just dropping a match into the top and blowing yourself to kingdom come. In my world, this is affectionately referred to as a Molotov Cocktail.” He glanced at their bewildered faces. “It’s a Russian thing, I think. Seen it in a lot of movies. Never mind.”
They continued, the plan taking shape before them. There would be villagers manning the two fortifications on either side, lobbing cocktails, and shooting arrows into the ranks of people approaching. Everyone else would be assembled in multiple lines, equipped with swords, armor, and whatever makeshift gear they could get their hands on.
Chief Pohk laughed, almost hysterically. He doubled over as he slapped his leg. It was the happiest he had been since the talk of facing Yozer had started. “I imagine Cenk is all on board with this. I bet it took a lot of time for you to convince him to make more swords.”
“Yeah, it was real tough,” Pent said with a smile. “Practically had to get on my knees and beg him.”
“As long as we’ve been in this arrangement with Gilbrand, he has been the most difficult person to convince to go along with it all.” Pohk wiped at his eyes, which had become misty from the strain of laughing. “I eventually had to threaten to banish him to force him to stop.”
“Every time I’ve talked to him, he’s been short and to the point. He probably didn’t give you much room to argue,” Pent said.
“Honestly, that threat was just bluster. Cenk is a good man, and he is fiercely loyal. And above all else, he is dedicated to his craft. He spends his time forging unused plates and silverware out of habit, or maybe boredom. Making weapons until he dies a gruesome death is exactly the way he would want to spend his final days.”
Pent nodded, unsurprised by Chief Pohk’s assessment. “We’ve got him on board for armor and swords. Most of the villagers who aren’t fighting or training are gonna have to go with him. He’ll need all the help he can get outfitting everyone. He’s got a lot of catching up to do.”
They continued laying out the logistics of the plan, figuring out where to put each person, which villagers were more suited to helping make swords, which ones were more reliable to man the fortifications, detail after detail.
Mother Lyle was still eyeing her drink with suspicion. “The question of how you shall light these drinks on fire brings me pause. I’ve seen that little gadget of yours, Pent. It’s very clever, but you only have one of them. I wouldn’t want to chance a flint an
d stone, they would be too slow.” She leaned forward and pulled the map towards her. Her fingers hovered around the Xs marking Faldo’s fortifications. “There are two towers marked here, and here. How about two fire pits? One behind each tower, so people from the bottom can raise torches up and the people manning the towers can light their bombs.”
Faldo grunted. “That could work. Yes, that could work quite well.” He jotted it down on his map, staring at it intensely and nodding.
“There’s just one major problem with this that I can see.” Chief Pohk’s earlier excitement had faded, and he seemed worn and melancholy. “We have no inkling when these enemies will arrive, and in what number. If Yozer is with them himself, he will bring the bulk of his forces. We don’t know if they’re coming on horseback, or on foot. There are so many questions that are unanswered here, and we won’t know those answers until our enemy is bearing down upon us.”
“We need someone to run interference here.” Pent gestured to Hanar. “That’s where Hanar comes in. He’s going to camp out in the woods north of Somerville. We know that Castle Draemar is north of here. Gilbrand came from the northwest. It makes the most sense for them to come from that area. Hanar will wait out in the wilderness, and when he catches wind of the approaching enemy he can come back. We would have to be ready to move at a moment’s notice. As long as Hanar can get us a few hours of preparation time, we should be capable.”
“That’s a reckless, suicidal task!” Mother Lyle stared at Hanar, concern written on her face. “You can’t ask him to wait out there alone. He’s meant to face the bulk of our enemy by himself?”
“Someone has to do it, and who else is better than me?” Hanar said. “Chief, you’re always saying my heart and mind are out in the woods, right?” The chief soberly nodded. “Well then, I’m the only person who makes sense. No one is in tune with the wilderness as I am. I spend most of my time out there anyway.” He smiled. “I wouldn’t want to stick around here anyway, and I would just be a burden.”
“Hanar…” Lyle regarded him wistfully. She seemed to want to say more, but she held her tongue. Her shoulders drooped and she sat in silence.
“This is most disconcerting.” Riven had been silent for so long, Pent had forgotten he was there. He began to tap on the table with his fingers again, rhythmically, demanding everyone’s attention. “There are so many pieces that need to fall in place perfectly for this to work. And this plan has your approval?” He directed his question to the chief. The chief nodded. “I see. I suppose my purpose is clear. Ellie and I shall tend to the wounded as they come to us.” His face had become pale, and he stopped tapping his fingers.
The chief’s eyes hovered from person to person, flitting from Faldo, to Lyle, to Hanar, and settling on Pent. “So, that’s it then. We’re all in agreement, we all have our roles. We shall delegate tasks to the villagers as is needed.” He stroked his chin with a contemplative look in his eyes. “What of the children? We can’t expect them to stand with us.”
“You’re right, you’re right. I’m happy you’re all on board with this, but I get that not everyone will be as willing. There should be some kind of retreat for those who aren’t willing to take up arms with us. Just in case we fail, they shouldn’t die with us.”
Lyle rubbed her eyes with her hands. “Hanar, surely you know of such a place?”
“Of course,” he answered without hesitation. “There is a clearing south of town that should do nicely. You should be familiar with it, my friend.” He slapped Pent on the shoulder. “That should serve our needs. I can set up something at the clearing, and then, when the time comes, everyone can flee there.”
“Good, good,” said the chief, nodding. “I don’t want to waste more time than we already have. It’s time to begin our work. Grab the people you need. Lyle, please help Lemen with his preparation, and try to keep him off that swill if you can. He seems so important to our success, we need him focused.”
They all agreed, packed their things, and were on their way. Faldo bolted out of the room first, gripping his map, on his way to gather materials and resources. Riven was out next, but he strolled through the doorway slowly, deep in thought. Pent wondered what he was thinking but did not get a chance to ask. He followed Hanar out, leaving Chief Pohk alone with Mother Lyle.
* * *
There was a sobering silence in the room. Lyle watched the rest of the group exit, leaving her alone with the chief. She was on her way out, her mind heavy with concerns about their plan, when the chief mumbled something to himself. She turned to him, raising an eyebrow.
The chief sighed, looking at his trembling hands. “I’m old.”
“Sir?”
“I’m very old, Lyle. I’ve been around for so long. Perhaps too long.”
“Don’t say that, chief.”
He glanced up at her, and in that moment he was ancient. She couldn’t remember a time in her life when he didn’t look elderly. There was no one else in the village anywhere close to his age. “Is it the folly of the old, to believe that we know better than those who were born after us?”
She shrugged. “Who can answer a question like that? A long life brings wisdom, and you’re the wisest of everyone here.”
“Maybe.” He rose to his feet, his hunch noticeable as he ambled towards the door. “But maybe all this wisdom has blinded me. Maybe the best move would be to stand aside, and let the youth take over.” When he had reached the doorway, he turned and faced her. “This war is upon us, serving as the greatest test I have faced in my time as leader and chief. I suppose it will answer my question. If only the answers didn’t carry such fatal consequences.”
* * *
Pent was halfway to Hanar’s hut when Lyle caught up with him. He felt Lyle tug on his shoulder. She stared into his eyes, contemplating, mulling something over in her mind before she spoke to him. Pent had shared few words with her since the incident with Gilbrand.
“I’m sure a lot of people have thanked you for your chivalrous deed in saving me. I’m not going to thank you. You’re owning your mistake, and I appreciate that. But that’s what it was, a mistake. If Hanar is killed, or if your recklessness leads everyone here to their deaths, then I don’t see what you need thanking for.” She shook her head. “I’m not going to thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me,” Pent said, trying to wrap his head around what she was saying, “but you seem pretty upset that I saved your life.”
She snorted. “I don’t have any kind of death wish, but I had made my peace when Gilbrand stood over me. Do you remember when I spoke of the order of things here? The pattern of how things work? Well, I moved out of turn, and in response, Gilbrand was going to take my life. You moved out of turn, and you’ve disrupted our entire way of living. There are repercussions for your actions, Pent, repercussions that might cause everyone I’ve ever loved to die. You need to think about those consequences before you act.” She turned away from Pent, finished with their conversation. As she walked away, she said, “Save the village, and then I’ll thank you.”
Pent frowned, confusion, guilt, and anger warring inside him. “That’s fine, you do what you need to do.” He left it at that. There was still so much work to be done.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Gilbrand stared in confusion at the strange room. It was shaped like a cone—wide on the bottom, narrow at the top, with circular windows at eye level across from him. He glanced through one of the windows and saw mountains far into the distance. I must be at the top of the castle in one of those spires. Did I really climb so high? From outside of the castle, the towers seemed impossibly tall.
In contrast to the hallways leading to the spire, this chamber was well lit and furnished. There were several shelves covered from top to bottom with weathered books, tables with candles laid about at random, and a chandelier made of glistening metal. Gold perhaps? Gilbrand considered Master Yozer’s wealth. He almost asked why the ruler of the world would live in such a dreary castle but
decided against it.
Agme moved towards the end of the room with a grace that made it appear he was gliding across the floor. Gilbrand realized there was a pale man standing there, and Agme whispered something into his ear. The ominous stranger was wearing a similar set of robes as Agme. His skin was deathly white and had a waxy glow as if he had never stepped outside a day in his life. Gilbrand’s heart skipped a beat. When I first entered this room, I thought it was empty. But now, the man seemed to command his attention, and he couldn’t pull his eyes away. An energy like that of the hemites pulled at him. Is this feeling his doing?
At last, the man spoke. “Who are you?” Gilbrand fell to his knees in penitence at the sound of that voice. It was low, like the growl of a bear, not at all what he had expected. Agme’s voice had seemed to pierce into his mind, but Master Yozer’s rumbling question shook him to his core, to his bones, to his soul. His entire body vibrated as the man spoke. Is this fear or something else?
“Master Yozer, I am Gilbrand, your loyal vassal. I occupy a castle to th—”
Yozer raised his hand, silencing Gilbrand. “I am not interested in the trifling affairs of my vassals. I asked who you are.” Gilbrand stared into Master Yozer’s eyes. He took in the man’s face for the first time. Master Yozer was old, old beyond fathomable years. Candlelight shined off his bald scalp, highlighting a hairless face devoid of even eyebrows. Solid white eyes were sunken into his skull, deep rings of black under them. Gilbrand was sure that if he blew out all the candles in this room, those inhuman orbs would glow in the darkness.
He shook his head, trying to focus on the matter at hand. “I do not understand your question, my master. I am Gilbr—”