by Meg Cowley
“I believe you should be heartened by your warm reception into Pandora,” said Behan. “Yes, many have joined you and yes many have not. However, my reckoning is that many are too scared of the consequences and wish to continue with their lives. I feel that if they do not support you, most of them will be at least neutral towards you.”
Soren considered this but had no definite decision as to the truth of Behan’s words, and invited Edmund to share his view. Edmund agreed with Behan. Behan’s knowledge of the city guard suggested that there were few left of those serving under Zaki to guard the city; many had gone with Zaki and he had sent out many more to guard the roads and search for the prince and Edmund. Behan’s sources within the city reported a skeleton guard left on the walls and gates with the small remaining bulk of forces holed up within the castle.
They lapsed into silence as Soren deliberated. If I don’t take the city now, Zaki may return… If I do, I might be able to hold him off… “I think we should take the city before Zaki returns,” he said at last. “Now that Irumae is safe, I have nothing to hold me back. We must not leave ourselves vulnerable inside the city though. How can we achieve this?”
It took until lunchtime to devise a strategy, send runners to the key noble houses and announcers to spread the message through the rest of the camp. As the camp readied itself, so did Soren and his companions. Upon noticing Soren’s wound, Nolwen healed it with a babble of words in the old tongue, dissolving the stitches and mending the torn flesh with precisely ordered words.
Soren flexed his arms and chest experimentally; there was the slightest tingling sense running across his chest but in appearance and feeling, he felt as if he had never been injured. Grateful, impressed, and a little intimidated, he thanked Nolwen and questioned him about his magic as they bathed and then dressed.
Eve
Eve bathed inside the tent – for the first time since Ednor – yet she was too angry to enjoy it. Soren had forbidden her from accompanying them, following Edmund’s wishes. She was furious and had argued with both of them, but Soren had made up his mind and dismissed her from his presence.
Hours later she lay alone in her borrowed tent on one of the two low stretcher beds, frustration at being treated so poorly draining away into blank thoughts as she stared up at the uniform beige fabric above her. Soren and his many men and women had marched off what seemed like hours ago and the camp was still and peaceful.
It was more pleasing for her than before without its hustle and bustle, although she still felt confined by the small space of the tent. Irumae was in the prince’s own pavilion, being bathed by one of Behan’s women and checked over by his personal physician. The princess was withdrawn after all that had occurred.
Wanting to stretch her stiff legs, Eve rose, pushed the tent flap aside so she could step out for a while and almost tripped up over Luke who lay across the tent entrance, asleep. As she stepped over him, he opened an eye and greeted her.
“Why are you here?” she asked him. “I thought you would have gone with Prince Soren.”
Luke shrugged. “It didn’t seem necessary when he already has so many following him. In any case, I’m in your service and not his. Where else should I be?”
Eve smiled as Luke rose to his feet and stretched. “Well I am glad to have some company, at least.” She frowned as he flinched. “How is your shoulder faring?”
“It’s alright,” said Luke. “I can’t complain in any case; it’s not green but it will take a while to heal.”
“Can I try something?” asked Eve.
Luke looked at her enquiringly.
“Nelda told me some things about healing using magic and I’d like to try them out. Will you be my test case?”
“You’re not going to make my arm fall off are you?” said Luke. He wrinkled his nose and leaned away.
“I hope not. I’m quite confident I can improve it,” she replied.
“Only quite confident?” Luke’s eyebrow rose. “Alright. You can try. It’s a good thing I trust you. I suppose I don’t have a choice if you want to anyway.”
“Oh, I forgot about that. In that case, I order you to let me heal you!” she said imperiously – and spoiled the effect with a giggle.
Luke shook his head at her and grinned. They circled back to the prince’s pavilion.
Irumae had retired to bed and the maid remaining in the pavilion excused herself when Eve entered with Luke in tow. She gave them both a telling glance as she passed them; it was clear what she thought they were up to. Both Eve and Luke blushed at the inference as she left.
The entire pavilion was furnished with sumptuous items that Behan had had transported from his house. He had even covered the grass in rugs; such was his attention to detail. Luke sat on a claw-footed stool after shrugging off his top. Eve allowed herself a glance over his form as he tossed his shirt aside – pleasantly athletic and well trained – before unwinding the bloodied bandage from Luke’s shoulder as she sat on a matching seat next to him.
She observed the wound from all angles, observing how clean the cut was and that it seemed untouched by infection. It was a neat slice through his skin and muscle, though not so deep that it had cut to the bone and she could see the different layers of his flesh. She placed her hands on either side of his shoulder, and rested her fingers by the wound.
Luke flinched at the touch, but kept his eyes fixed forward.
Taking a deep, calming breath, followed by several more, Eve reached for the energy that had caressed her mind with a distracting touch since the night in the castle and mentally rehearsed the wording that Nelda had taught her. She began to chant in a low whisper in the old tongue of muscle and flesh knitting together, focusing her attention on the deepest parts of the cut and then, as they healed, the shallower levels and finally, the skin itself.
Over and over again she chanted the same phrases, completely focused, as Luke could not help but watch with fascination as his flesh wriggled together piece by piece. It was just minutes later that she sat back to admire the remarkable change; where there had been an open, deep wound there was now closed skin, pink and puckered with an emerging scar.
Yawning, Eve felt overcome with tiredness, for the energy required by the act had to come from her life force as she had not the experience required to draw it from Luke himself, or their surroundings. “How does it feel?” she said, after another yawn.
“Well it itched the whole way through and stung at times too,” Luke replied, “but now it just tingles a little.” He raised his arm experimentally to flex in as many directions as he could; tentatively at first and then with more vigour. “It’s as if it were injured some time ago!” he said, impressed. “Thank you.” He donned his top after admiring her efforts once more.
Eve smiled back at him, feeling invigorated and proud through the wave of tiredness. That was amazing! I must ask Nelda if she will teach me more about healing. I’ve barely scratched the surface of the possibilities that this brings!
Soren
As the sun sank from its zenith, Soren led a body of men and women containing all of his forces on foot and horseback to Pandora’s great south gate in a thin, long line that streamed from his makeshift camp. He rode on horseback in shining armour polished by Behan’s men and looked every inch as grand as he ought to have done. As agreed, the nobles and captains took charge of ranks, organising them on the flat plains outside the city as they arrived in battalions of hundreds of people apiece.
The dragons volunteered for the task of breaching the gates with relish. Nolwen and Nelda both stayed with Soren at the front of the force for their part in unlocking the gates. The dragons wished to burn the gates to the ground and tear apart the portcullises; Soren refused without hesitation.
If he were to take the city and hold it against Harad’s forces, Soren would need the fortifications to remain intact. There would be no guarantee of any time to repair anything once he had taken the city before the invasion arrived. This battle would take
great skill; they had to defeat Zaki’s forces whilst damaging as little infrastructure as possible.
Instead, the dragons flew around the battlements to harry the soldiers upon them and, judging by the screaming, crunches and thuds of impacts, and crackling of fires started by spurts of dragon fire, killing some as well. As they did this, Nolwen and Nelda dismounted and walked as close to the main gates as they dared, protected by the bows of the farming women who trained arrows on the battlements in readiness.
Holding hands the two Eldarkind raised up their arms and chanted in the old tongue. A wind began to rise and the earth shuddered. The gates groaned and creaked. Soren’s forces were still with awe as they watched. It was minutes, though it seemed like hours, when the gates began to shudder open as each individual locking bolt slid open and the great beam of wood holding the gates shut could be heard dropping, with the loudest thud yet, to the ground. The ratchet controlling the portcullis gears clicked away, and Soren knew it would be raising itself seemingly of its own accord.
Myrkdaga dropped like a stone from the sky inside the gates, his great bulk shattering the stone paving behind the gate and sending small shards of stone flying out from under him. With the strength of his shoulders, he pushed open the gate as his kin flew down to help him. Soren, on his horse behind Nolwen and Nelda, watched as the grass browned and withered around their feet. The opening gates revealed the dragons occupying the empty square behind them.
His forces erupted into loud cheers and Soren raised his sword and allowed them to move forward into the city. Ranks filed in through the gates, peeling left and right to comb the city from bottom to top for soldiers and spread Soren’s message of peace to the city’s inhabitants, warning them not to take up arms against his forces and assuring the citizens that they would not come to any harm.
Soren observed Nolwen and Nelda. Their shoulders sagged with exhaustion, but they insisted they were fit enough to continue. Through the centre of the city rode Soren himself, flanked by the Eldarkind up winding ways to the castle square, where he stood before the castle gates to declare his terms.
Around him, small skirmishes erupted across the city, but he was unconcerned. Myrkdaga and his kin offered him a bird’s eye view of the city and the unfriendly forces within it, and relayed events across Pandora to him.
After the assault on the walls by the dragons and the impressive size of his force, despite it being made up of common folk, the few soldiers left opposing him were in a panic. They fled in disarray to their homes, the castle, other gate: anywhere they could. It worked to Soren’s advantage for the way to the castle was not defended and for all intents and purposes it seemed as if he could walk in and seize hold of it.
He tried not to be complacent however, and waited until all captains had relayed to them that they had swept and cleared their sections of the city before approaching the castle. He sent a runner to set them to work emptying the armoury for his own forces in case they could not secure the city in one attempt.
The castle loomed above him and he could clearly see guards within the gatehouse. Once more, he called forward the women archers to cover him. Nolwen and Nelda also insisted on stepping forward with him. It was not clear why until after he had demanded his terms; the immediate surrender of all those loyal to Zaki and the return of the castle and city to his possession, or their capture and trial for treason.
An arrow whistled towards him from a slit above the gate as he finished speaking, but before he could react, it stopped dead in the air four feet in front of him and dropped to the ground with a clatter against the cobbles. He looked at his two companions.
Nolwen winked at him conspiratorially. “We really can perform some extraordinary and useful tasks with magic.”
“Fascinating,” murmured Soren, unable to discern a physical semblance to their barrier. “First rank, shoot!”
A volley whooshed over his head and bowstrings twanged, as his archers released a line of arrows over the castle wall and into its first courtyard. The clatter of arrows on stone sounded, though some found their intended targets as cries broke out. Once more, the dragons proved their infinite usefulness; they soared over the courtyard in a blaze of fire as they bathed the courtyard in blinding light and heat.
They landed, wreaking havoc with their teeth and claws, as Nolwen and Nelda chanted even faster than they had before to open the castle portcullis and gate in the same manner with the help of the dragons. After the second wave of exertion, they were almost grey and needed to eat sweet cakes before they regained some colour and energy.
Here, Soren executed the most risky part of his plan. Mingling in with the rest of his forces that massed around a wide part of the city’s highest levels, Nolwen and Nelda made their way around to where the high castle garden wall met the city at a point that was largely undefended due to the lack of weakness in that area.
Soren’s ensured his forces avoided this area, attempting to give his enemies a false sense of security. The royal garden had never been defended unless the need arose, and Soren was determined to make use of the vulnerability, however small it was.
Whilst he concentrated the main bulk of his forces on fighting their way into the castle, Nolwen and Nelda were to slip inside the castle itself and open as many gates and doors as they could to allow Soren’s forces easier access when they breached the main castle. Soren was well aware that without the dragons or the magic and skill of the Eldarkind, this was an attempt that would take much time and cost many lives, but by using their unique skills, he hoped to save an impossible amount of both.
As dragons gleefully rained down from overhead in spiralling, somersaulting dives picking off archers and guardsmen, Soren kept up his assault and sent waves of archers and infantry until no more could go forward. They kept this up for many hours until the forces opposing them fell back another level into the castle and allowed Soren access to all grounds but the private walled royal garden through which Nolwen and Nelda had entered.
The castle’s main door, made of heavy, thick wood and reinforced with metal, stood barred before his forces. Nolwen and Nelda were nowhere to be seen. Soren had no choice but to begin the assault on the home he loved. His heartstrings quivered every time a precious stained glass window was smashed and every time a dragon landed on a battlement and crunched the carved stone into pebbles and dust with their bulk and strength.
Arrows rained down upon them, some flaming, to bury themselves within his forces. Screams of the injured and dying lay before and behind him as the battle raged on. Soren felt as if he was in a bubble and separated from it all, as he concentrated on organising his forces.
One by one from his left, he heard his captains signal with horns that the way lay open before them, made possible by the Eldarkind. Soren kept up the pretence, delaying allowing his forces to surge inside the castle until the last possible moment. The alerts came close and closer until Nolwen and Nelda themselves appeared through his forces.
“It is done! We could go no further!” shouted Nolwen over the noise. He shook with tiredness.
Immediately, Soren grabbed a horn from the nearest source and winded it himself; three short bursts that signalled permission to move forward. With renewed vigour, his forces cheered and his captains swept into the castle on foot leading his forces surging through it. Their orders had been clear; once within the castle, show mercy to those who could be captured and kill those who would not submit.
Demara
“It already begins! You must flee, my queen!” Ambassador Delgado begged her.
Pale faced, Demara shook her head as her ladies in waiting paced nervously around them. It was daytime and yet dark – Demara had ordered them to shutter the windows and light the lamps. The sturdy castle felt paper-thin to her, as if her enemies could tear through the walls with their hands at any minute.
“I cannot flee, Tomas. A true queen does not flee,” she said, though she could not convince herself.
Ser Tomas made to speak but
she continued.
“How can I leave in any case? Look at me! I am unfit, I am tired and I cannot come so far to lose everything now. What if I were to flee and lose my child?”
“What if you were to stay and lose the child?” he said, impassioned.
“There is no way to leave.” She shot his suggestion down. “Look at them. They crowd the castle like ants. Stay your cowardice, for we will win!”
“I am no coward!” Ser Tomas recoiled. “There is no one here to defend you my queen. We cannot win and will not last the day. I cannot let you come to harm, I wish to save you!”
“Be silent, Tomas! I will not go. I forbid you to go. You will stay and do your duty. We will triumph. Leave me now. I tire.” Strong backed and stern faced she stood before him.
He searched her eyes, but they were impassive. Without a choice, he bowed and left without meeting her gaze again.
Demara waited until he had left before she collapsed, sobbing. Her ladies rushed to her side to fuss over her and guide her to bed where they lay her fully clothed. Seline draped a cold cloth across her forehead.
“My lady?” Seline asked, as the other maids dispersed to a distance.
“Seline, I am so frightened!” Demara confided.
The girl grasped her hand.
“I even wish my husband were here to protect me. I fear Tomas is all I have and he has turned to cowardice!”
Soren
Soren’s forces swept through the castle like wildfire. Nolwen and Nelda remained with him; they were spent but refused to give up. Soon, the gate was unbarred and opened from within. Soren made his way to the great hall where prisoners were already being assembled, sat crammed together on the floor. It was the same, and yet different. Under Zaki’s banners, the hall seemed darker, and filled with stinking, bloodied men, it was overcrowded; an assault on the senses.