With brutal swiftness, he redeployed the men who had laboured on the sluice gate so they couldn’t reveal his hand in it: they found themselves in the thickest fighting at the barricades in sector ten. At a later date, if they survived, they might end up in the torture chamber, to rot with Aurelan Crossis.
***
Third Sapin – Fourth Sabin of Darous
Red Tellar Inn, New City, Lornwater
“They’ve got the entire Marron Square surrounded as well!” Nemond Thand said, watching from a window. “I don’t understand why they’re laying seige to the inn!”
“Their intelligencers know you are here, my lord,” Ranell said. “They’re upset that you escaped from your palace.”
“But they have no seige engines. They can’t think to starve us out, surely?”
“They’d be hard-pressed to do that. The kitchens of the Red Tellar are well-stocked. I’m wondering if there is another reason for this. A diversion, a feint.”
“The planned double assault on the Old City – water system and from the Doltra Complex tunnels?”
“I hope that’s not the case. Those plans may still hold. We need to hear from Aeleg on the one; the other, miners are even now busy penetrating the tunnels we found beneath the Doltra Complex.”
***
Arrows and crossbow bolts flew through the rows of windows but did little damage, though a small number of men and inn staff suffered minor wounds by ill chance.
The ring of steel presented by General Luascar’s soldiers was three ranks deep, on each side of the inn.
Battle-axes, pikes and flails deterred any attacker foolish enough to approach with a battering ram. Their shields bristled with arrow-heads – the shafts they broke off as soon as feasible.
It was a stand-off.
The days tended to meld into one another, the cries of the wounded and bereaved punctuated by the clang of metal on metal.
In the early hours of the new day, it rained, drenching both sides and dampening endeavour.
By the time the rain ceased, General Accantey arrived with his men from the varteron gate and broke the siege, their horses scattering Saurosen’s foot-soldiers to left and right.
The ranks broke and the majority of the Saurosen men fled back to the Second City gate, fighting and ducking thrown vegetables and fruit all the way.
Smiling broadly, Ranell came out to welcome the general and his men. “It is good to see you, General.”
“I’d have been here sooner, but we were under attack from a contingent of the fourth. They’re persistent, I’ll give them that! We beat them back, eventually.”
Ranell gave a start, spotting Vamir Wei making his way through the crowd of well-wishers. “Vamir Wei, you look bedraggled…”
“I’m sorry, Ranell,” Vamir said, gasping, “but our attempt to break through using the water course failed.”
“What happened?” Ranell peered over the gildsman’s shoulder; nobody else appeared. “Where are the others?”
Avoiding eye-contact, the gildsman groaned. “They all died, including your man Aeleg. We were set upon by a maniacal swordsman. He had a woman with him; I think she was wounded… But it happened so fast, I can’t be sure. I didn’t have a weapon, so I ran away as soon as the last of our group was vanquished.”
“All ten of you killed by one swordsman?”
“Aye, but I could see the killing space was to his advantage…”
Aeleg dead? That knowledge was like a knife in his heart.
***
Fourth Dekin – Fourth Dloin of Darous
New City, Lornwater
Against General Luascar’s advice, Ranell organised concerted attacks on the defenders at the Second City gate, the barricades in sectors ten and seventeen. “They’ve got to give!”
He used Sardan mystics to muddle the minds of the defenders, and sent wagons into the moat at the base of the raised drawbridge until finally there was a solid dam of wood.
Then he ordered fire-wagons rolled on top of the dam, the flames licking hungrily at the drawbridge; other fire-wagons barrelled towards the section ten barricade.
Palls of smoke climbed, interspersed with red and white sparks, and clothed daylight with night. He had other plans for the barricade at section seventeen.
Dogs barked incessantly. Women wailed, children cried shrilly, and wounded men whined in agony and fear. Black carrion birds cawed in delight. But he was deaf to all of it.
***
The royal palace, Old City, Lornwater
Nostor Vata grimaced. Blood dribbled from her eyelids and nostrils. Unhurriedly, as if this were a normal occurrence, she dabbed at the outpouring with a black silk cloth.
“What’s the matter?” Saurosen demanded. They were alone; he had dismissed the palace guards.
She opened her eyes. They were bloodshot, the blue-grey a striking contrast. “The Lord-General’s witch, Sister Hara has sent you a message from him.”
Saurosen’s mouth gaped open. “A message from him – Launette?”
“Yes, sire.”
“Well, what does he say?”
“If you retreat to Taalland, you will find reinforcements – that is, one of the Lord-General’s toumen, the twentieth. And you can then find time to plan revenge and a return to Lornwater.”
“Taalland, eh? I’ve never been there. They say it stinks of fish!”
“Smells are the least of your worries, sire. I told you at the time, you were mistaken to deliberately split the toumens of the Lord-General throughout the land.”
“It was to avoid any coup by Launette.”
“Now, you will rue that decision.”
“Sometimes, I rue having you as my Sardan!”
***
Red Tellar Inn, New City, Lornwater
During a break in the battle, Cobrora Clen returned to the inn for food in the dining hall. Despite the milling number of men and women eating and drinking, he could be private here.
Alarmingly, he experienced a shuddering fleeting paroxysm of emotion that ran through his entire frame.
He was accosted by a blood-streaked Ranell. “You seem despondent, Clen. Yet your psychic efforts have proven useful, confusing many of the enemy at crucial moments!”
“Oh, Ranell…” Clen massaged his forehead with a hand; his skin was flushed and hot.
“Are you all right?”
“Aye. I’ve just experienced Fhord’s death.”
“Your sister’s death?” Ranell sounded incredulous.
“Sardan training tells me she is dead.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It was a glorious death.” A smile flickered briefly. “I’m a little envious of her for now she walks with Osasor.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
WRETCH
“Civil war sneaks up on you, sometimes quietly.
It does not end when the dead are counted.
It goes on for generations unborn!”
- Dialogues of Meshanel
Fourth Sufin of Darous
New and Second Cities, Lornwater
General Luascar’s forces pushed back the defenders on the barricades in sector seventeen. Under a screen of shields, they then demolished most of the barricade and piled it into the moat in one point and then heaped more against the city wall. Everyone who worked, men and women, was protected by a shield-man.
This battle went on for most of the day.
Finally, General Luascar ordered a fusillade of arrows fired on the battlements. And the makeshift ramp of wood and furniture was scaled under cover of more arrows. The men topped the wall, climbed over, and entered this city for the second time.
With the stream of men from the eleventh toumen pouring over the ramparts, the defenders retreated through the streets of sector nine, hurrying to the Old City gate, pleading to be let inside.
Those in retreat did not concern Luascar or Ranell.
The sky was darkening with the onset of night as Ranell led the way to the Doltra Comple
x.
Crossing over the detritus at the base of the towering edifice, Ranell lit a torch. “Enter the tunnels!” he ordered, leading the way into the depths.
***
The royal palace, Old City, Lornwater
Dusk fast approached. Fio stood on the palace tower and watched anxiously. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She grieved over the death of Queen Jikkos. Now, the king, accompanied by about twenty guards entered a sector one house only yesterday identified by the witch as a secret watchman access. If the Sardan had found it earlier, perhaps the queen would still be alive! There was no use in railing against chance, she realised. Apparently, this adit offered a narrow secret tunnel beneath the Old City wall. In single file they entered, and vanished from her view.
She lingered a short while. But it was unlikely she would be able to see them emerge on the other side, somewhere in sector fourteen.
Now, she must hurry to the town-house of Lord Tanellor and report.
***
Lornwater
Hurrying through the manderon tunnels beneath the Old City, Saurosen glanced nervously over his shoulder, imagining again Jikki being swept away in a surge of water. He sweated and was soon short of breath – doubtless as much from anxiety as exertion. Ahead of him walked the witch and Captain Bayuan Aco, while behind was a force of twenty palace guards. It was all the men that the witch said they dare risk accompanying them. “Once we are in the forest, the fourth will protect you, sire,” she’d said. “We will cross the teen at Dhur Bridge, go through Lowdorl, Mathile on to Rubala.”
“That’s a long journey,” he had protested.
“You should meet up with General Yordine Edural. It’s perhaps fortunate he withheld troops so now they can be of use to you on your march to Taalland.”
“Yes, that is good. Edural is loyal to the Black Sword.”
The exit of their tunnel was in sector five of the Second City. “It’s the best I can do, sire,” the witch said. The gate was over to their right.
Soundlessly, they emerged from the secret entrance.
“We must go now, before it is too dark,” Captain Bayuan advised. “We can’t rely on torches to see our way – they’ll be detected as soon as the hue and cry is up!”
The sound of fighting came to them but dimly from the varteron gate – sector seven, some distance away. The sentries at this, the manderon gate were alert, certainly. As Saurosen strode towards them, he announced himself.
The sentries sprang to attention. “Sire!”
“Open the gate. I wish to check the barricades!”
“Sire?” A look of consternation passed on the man’s face.
Saurosen gestured behind him. The twenty guardsmen marched up, flanked by Sister Nostor Vata and the captain. “Have no fear. I have adequate protection.”
“At once, sire!” The two sentries hurried to unlatch the gate and swung it partially open.
They all slipped through. Bayuan instructed the sentry to re-close the gate.
In front of them and to the left was street upon street, all clogged with tilted wagons and smashed furniture, fashioning a formidable barricade. Many arrow shafts protruded and there were copious dark patches of dried blood everywhere. Manning the defenses were soldiers, not palace guards, and a handful of the fourth toumen in black livery.
“They won’t let you out of this gate, sire – they’ll accuse you of deserting them,” Nostor Vata whispered.
“I know. You briefed me already.” He unbundled a dark cloak and concealed his rich robe with it. “We’ll make for the gate in twos and threes. Once we’re all in position, overcome the sentries and make a break for it!”
“Sire!” said the captain.
“And no more of this calling me ‘sire’. That’s bound to draw attention – not only here but also outside the city walls.”
As planned, they reached the gate unmolested and the guardsmen eliminated the sentries with stealth and cold steel. A couple of them raised the portcullis partially, enough to slide beneath. It sounded loud. All eyes scanned the streets behind them. Nobody seemed to have heard.
Finally, their way was clear and they opened the gate slightly. Bayuan peered out. “Not a soul in sight,” he whispered.
“Hey, what are you doing there?” someone shouted.
***
Madurava House, Old City, Lornwater
Dear Daughter Dramomna raised her eyes from her contemplation of the giant needle in the enormous chamber. It had been affected ever so slightly by the latest earth tremors, something that had never happened before in their history.
But her attention was arrested by shouts from the entrance hallway.
She lifted her robes and dashed out the chamber, along an echoing corridor, one of eight that radiated from the central compass point.
Breathless, she opened the door and stood unmoving, her heart sinking.
Six madurava sisters were fighting off ten ruffians.
One of the intruders yelled at the top of his lungs, “Destroy the evil sect!”
Dramomna cursed her own sinful pride at dismissing Lord Tanellor’s offer of a guard. Now, she and her sisters were going to pay at the hands of the inner-godders. As the earth tremors increased in frequency, the third major religious sect had gained in popularity. They didn’t believe in outside influences for their fate and despised the orthodoxy of the Overlord.
The sisters put up a brave fight, brandishing measuring instruments as weapons. But the muscle and number of intruders was too much.
Two men had pinned Sister Xinel to the floor, her robes lifted to cover her face, exposing her.
Gently removing her scientific tome from the lectern, Dramomna grabbed the stand itself and charged at them. The wooden head slammed into one man’s behind, impaling him. He jumped up, screeching, holding his bleeding buttocks. Dramomna then swung the lectern at the second man, clubbing him on the side of his face.
Suddenly, she was attacked from behind, two men disarming her. One of them grasped her in a bear-hug, while the other tore off her headdress. Her long auburn hair covering her face, she kicked and struggled but to no avail.
The noise and screams were abruptly deafened by men-at-arms shouting.
Her captors let her go and she fell to the floor.
Looking up, she saw Lord Tanellor at the doorway, directing his men. He spotted her and hurried over, knelt by her side. “Dear Daughter, are you all right?”
She swallowed and brushed hair from her face. “I’m a little bruised – and my pride has been chastised, my lord. Otherwise, I am fine – thanks to your timely intervention!”
***
Lornwater
Saurosen swivelled round. Three soldiers stood nearby, weapons drawn. He reached for the Black Sword.
“No,” Nostor Vata whispered harshly. “Leave it to the others!”
He nodded and followed the captain through the gate; they ducked under the portcullis and hurried over the earthbridge that spanned a drainage depression. To left and right he saw the cleared expanse of the killing ground, which, together with the well-worn ringtrail, encircled the New City’s walls. Between the ringtrail and the forest were many small farms that supplied daily produce to the markets.
The guardsmen made short work of the three, though one suffered a wounded arm. Then they followed across the earthbridge.
A group of eight warriors with the sigil of the eleventh toumen rushed up, some limping. “We feared you’d never open up!” said one. “We got cut off. We’ve been waiting for days!”
Ruthlessly, Saurosen slaughtered the speaker and two others. As he tackled a fourth, he felt massive pain in his leg. An arrow stuck out! I’ve been wounded! The archer was one of the eleventh toumen but he didn’t loose another shaft. Captain Bayuan killed him instantly. The rest fell under the swords of the guardsmen.
“To the forest!” Nostor Vata urged.
They rushed across the trail, stumbling over cabbages and ploughed earth, and finally reached the prote
ction of the trees.
Here, the witch studied his leg. “You need medical attention.”
“Can’t you fix it?” he wheezed. It was a long time since he’d suffered a severe wound.
“Of course I can,” she chided. “But not here.” She signalled to Bayuan. “We need to move deeper into the forest.”
“What about the fourth toumen?” he asked, eyes rolling left and right, in vain searching the shadows for the foresters.
She said, “We have the Black Sword – and they have sworn allegiance to it and its holder, the king.”
“Aye, so they have. I was forgetting.”
Two guardsmen assisted Saurosen. They trudged deep into the forest until the witch selected a suitable small clearing.
They put him down to rest against the bole of a tree. He scanned about him, at the ground, the bushes, everywhere. “Sister Vata,” he whispered, “are there spiders here?”
“Yes, sire. But I’ve been experimenting lately and believe this powder will serve.” She delved in her clothing and produced a bulging leather pouch.
“What is it?”
“Arachdust. It repels all arachnids. I have tested it for a few days and it works. You should be able to rest within the circle.” She sparingly poured a thin trace of dust from the pouch in a circle round Saurosen. “Keep within the circle and you should be all right.”
He nodded, and then he shuddered as he heard a sound amidst the trees. “Be on the alert,” he warned the others loudly, hugging the unsheathed the Black Sword to his chest.
***
Fourth Durin of Darous
The royal palace, Old City, Lornwater
A number of palace guards had fought, but not many of them, and they were soon overcome; the majority had fled once they realised the king had gone.
Lord Tanellor and his men-at-arms entered, Fio by his side. His mind whirled in disbelief. The queen dead! It wasn’t possible! He’d planned to come here when the rebel forces broke through into the Old City. He would have fought for her, saved her. But now she was dead.
The young innman Ranell found him here when they finally fought their way through. “You seek the king?” he asked.
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