by D. L. Kramer
Somehow moving through the pain, Sevanha twisted free of the church guard holding her and turned on him, her arm hanging useless by her side. She raised her remaining sword and met his attack. It took longer for her to find an opening and drive her sword through his stomach. When he collapsed, she collapsed beside him. Moments later, Dahlos was at her side.
"I'll be all right," she managed. "He just hit muscle and I think he cut the bone, my arm won't work." Her sight started to fade and she found comfort in the strength of her husband's arms.
"You'll be fine," Dahlos said, picking her up to carry her from the field. "The BishopLord doesn't stand a chance now. The Dwellers broke through the other side and went after him."
Sevanha nodded. The last thing she remembered before losing consciousness was the sound of the Mo'ani cheering.
**********
Rial paced from the window to the door and back to the window. The scouts should have been back by now. Surely the BishopLord wasn't going to try killing his scouts again. The last time he'd done that, Rial had ordered the BishopLord's mistress kidnapped and thrown into his dungeon. He'd cut the girl's hair off and sent it back to the manor with a note that the next time it would be her head.
Drawing the dagger from his belt, he ran his finger along the edge, drawing a thin line of blood. They had intercepted every courier from Herridon bringing news to the BishopLord, so there was no way he could know of the armies building around the other garrisons and Herridon itself. Rial had manipulated the BishopLord into the state of belief that everything was progressing the way the Archbishop wanted it.
"M'lord, the scouts are on their way back," a Mo'ani said from the doorway.
Rial turned to look at him, fingering the dagger for a moment before resheathing it. He wanted nothing more than to gut the BishopLord and feed him to his dogs. If everything went as planned, he'd have his wish before day's end tomorrow.
"Send them up when they're here," he instructed the Mo'ani. The man nodded and left the doorway, disappearing around the corner.
Rial knew he'd never wear one of the red cloaks. The Mo'ani held an honor as strange to him as the thought of mercy or forgiveness. His loyalty was no different than theirs, and each and every one of them knew he'd die to support them and Valin Hold, but his tactics were less than honorable. He didn't believe in second chances, and didn't believe in showing mercy for those who had stood against him. Even though the Valin Mo'ani were more cold-blooded than their comrades at the other holds, none of them matched their young lord.
Rial's uncle had been given a chance to redeem his weaknesses and support Mo'ani and Valin Hold, but he had tried turning it all over to the Archbishop. Rial came to believe hanging and burning Desan wasn't enough. He occasionally wished he knew where Lord Olorun had buried the remains, wanting to go till salt through the ground there as a final insult.
He continued pacing while he waited for the scouts. Within minutes, there was another knock on his office door. He turned to motion the two scouts in.
"Well?" he asked.
"He's got three regular scouting parties out in the forest," the younger of the two Mo'ani said. "But none of them seem headed in this direction."
"Of course not," Rial shook his head. He looked expectantly at the other Mo'ani.
"They're not showing any indication of expecting an attack at the garrison," he reported. "The back gates were open all night and the front guards are only stopping one in ten villagers bringing supplies in."
Rial nodded his head. Surely the BishopLord wasn't going to make this too easy. He knew the man was a trusting idiot, but common sense should make him take some standard precautions.
"Good," he turned back to the window, looking towards the garrison. "We'll move into our positions tonight and before dawn. I'll wake up the BishopLord personally. You all know when to make your move."
The Mo'ani nodded to him and left the room. Rial knew exactly how he was going to wake up the BishopLord. Turning from the window, he left his office and made his way down to the dungeon.
By daybreak the next morning, the Valin Mo'ani secured places within the garrison's walls. The back gates were left open again all night, and it only took moments to take out the guards there. As the garrison's daily business began, a few more Mo'ani slipped through the front gates disguised as villagers bringing supplies into the garrison.
Rial found himself growing angrier the further into the garrison he crept. The BishopLord's storehouses were filled with food and other supplies from the nearby villages. Rial knew many of the people in the villages were starving, and he had stopped taking any payment from those nearest him almost a year ago. For those who asked it, he still provided them with the protection they needed. He also allowed them access to the river so they could catch enough fish to feed their families when necessary.
He turned a corner, pausing to watch for any church guards coming. The girl walking with him was barely his age, and she followed him without struggling against her bonds, too scared to resist. Her blonde hair once fell to her hips, now it was barely past her ears. Seeing no guards, he continued down the hall. It would be dawn within minutes, and he wanted to be at the BishopLord's bedchamber before then.
Reaching the last turn, he stopped and tied the rope he was leading the girl with onto one of the doors.
"Stay quiet," he warned her, adjusting the gag tied around her mouth. He pulled the dagger from his belt and hefted the seven-flanged mace he carried in his other hand.
The girl nodded her head violently, sinking to the floor as her legs gave out from under her. Leaving her, Rial stepped to the corner and looked around it. Two church guards stood outside the BishopLord's bedchamber just a few yards down the hall. Both wore a standard sword, chain armor and only basic metal helmets that Rial knew weren't going to be thick enough to absorb any sort of heavy blow. Rial smiled to himself as he shifted his grip on the mace. The BishopLord was almost insulting him.
Pulling a silver coin from his pouch, he tossed it into the hallway where it rolled to a stop a few feet in front of him. The two church guards spoke quietly between themselves, then one stepped away and walked down to the coin, one hand on his sword.
As he bent over to pick it up, Rial swung down with the mace, crushing the side of his helmet and the skull underneath. Before the church guard collapsed to the floor in spasms, Rial turned and ran for his partner. The other church guard barely had time to realize what was happening when Rial's dagger slashed across his exposed throat. Pulling the dagger around, Rial brought the mace down on his head, dropping him as quickly as the first guard.
Cleaning his dagger on the guard's cloak, he sheathed it and turned to walk back to retrieve the girl. When they passed the bodies in the hall, he clamped one hand over her mouth to stifle her scream. He'd have cut her throat, but then it would ruin his plans for the BishopLord.
Reaching the bedchamber, he silently opened the door. He pulled the girl into the room behind him then closed the door again and turned the lock. They passed through the outer room and into the sleeping chamber. The BishopLord's greed was obvious even in here, and Rial felt no remorse for what he was doing as his eyes moved over the padded furniture and silver and gold trinkets.
Draperies heavy with silken embroidery hung over the windows, blocking out any light. Dragging the girl behind him, he walked to one of the windows, pulling open the draperies. The sun would be rising over the trees any minute now, signaling the Mo'ani to begin their attack.
Rial walked back to stand beside the sleeping BishopLord, pulling his dagger from his belt again as he set the mace down on the bed. Sliding the dagger between her cheek and the gag, he cut the thick strip of cloth, then took hold of her remaining hair and pulled her head back.
"Please," she whispered, trying to pull away from him.
Rial met her eyes. "You should have thought of the consequences before stepping into his bed," he responded, pulling the dagger across her throat and pushing her down over the B
ishopLord. He picked up the mace again before she fell.
The BishopLord started awake and nearly screamed when he saw the blood draining from the girl's body across him. He looked frantically around him, stopping on Rial.
"I've decided there's only room here for one of us," Rial said, his tone as unforgiving as the river. "And I've decided it should be me." Swinging the mace back, he brought it down on the BishopLord's head once, then twice, then a third time. When he looked to the window again, the sun was clearing the trees. Below, he could hear the shouts of the Mo'ani as the battle in the garrison began.
Rial left the BishopLord's bedchamber, bloody dagger in one hand and blood covered mace in the other. There was nothing the church guards could do now to stop the Mo'ani. When they were all dead, he would open the storehouses to the villages, then burn the garrison and manor to the ground when everything of worth was taken back.
**********
Rylan watched as the church guards took up positions around the outside of their garrison. The blue cloaks melted with the shadows of the early evening, but their armor still gave him something to count. The church guards outnumbered him, but with Lieutenant Rouvin advancing from Takis Hold in the north, those figures would soon be changing.
A rider had arrived from Rouvin's army the day before, guaranteeing they would be in position when the charge was ordered. The church guards had no idea they were being flanked from the north, and were concentrating all of their manpower to the south side of the garrison. Rylen hadn't tried hiding that he was massing his army at Garyn Hold, hoping the movement would keep the BishopLord from finding Rouvin's army. The plan worked and after nightfall, they would advance on the garrison.
He waited patiently, keeping a current count in his head as the church guard officers rotated positions in their attempt to keep the soldiers from growing bored. No doubt they all thought they were in for a long night. Rylen, however, planned to initiate his attack within the next few minutes. Finally, he turned back to the Mo'ani behind him.
"Their cavalry just rotated to the west side," he told them. "Leaving the infantry on the east and right in front of us. I want the archers to concentrate on their cavalry. After the third round of arrows, we'll charge. Our cavalry will spread straight across with the heaviest concentration to the west. The infantry will head straight for their infantry. I want the archers to move up and if they get a clear shot, take it. Any questions?"
The Mo'ani around him shook their heads and moved to pass along the orders. Rylen pulled himself into his saddle and waited until his army was positioned behind him. Drawing his sword, he motioned to the archers.
Hundreds of arrows rained down on the surprised church guards, many hitting their targets. A second round came immediately after, followed by the third. Before the final arrows found their targets, Rylen ordered the charge. As soon as they cleared the embankment, he could see Rouvin's cavalry charging from the other side. The Takis Lieutenant was using the sound of Rylen's horses to cover his own.
The church guard cavalry jumped forward to meet their charge, several of the men already wounded by arrows. The two forces clashed together and the Mo'ani began the methodical tearing down of the church guard cavalry. Rylen cut his way through several church guards on horseback before dropping to the ground to take on those who had fallen from their horses. His sword flashed with the camps' firelight, growing thick with blood. One after the other, he forced an opponent down with the speed that had won him his cloak.
The church guard infantry was overtaken by Rouvin's cavalry and found themselves quickly fighting a losing battle. When the Mo'ani infantries reached the fight, there was little left for them to do.
When Rylen was finally able to look at the carnage around him, Rouvin was standing less than a yard away. He was holding his stomach, but didn't seem too badly hurt.
"Well, shall we go find the BishopLord?" Rouvin asked, meeting Rylen's eyes.
"He'll be inside with his honor guard," Rylen said. "Probably locked in a room where we'll have to fight our way to him then break down the door."
Rouvin turned to look back at the garrison. "Then let's just kill them all at once," he suggested, looking back at Rylen.
Rylen nodded slowly, knowing what the lieutenant was suggesting. "Let me get some men to help."
Minutes later, braces were put under the front gates and several Mo'ani sent inside to cut the ropes and lower both the front and rear gates. The rear gate crashed to the ground, sinking several inches into the packed dirt. The front gates crashed down onto the wood and held while the Mo'ani slipped out. When they were safely on the outside, the wood was chained to several horses and pulled out, letting the gate drop.
The Mo'ani moved back as the archers began firing lighted arrows over the walls. In seconds, thick black smoke rose into the night sky, blocking out the stars. Minutes later, screams could be heard from inside the garrison's walls. Eventually the screams stopped.
Rylen looked at Rouvin where he sat having his wounded side wrapped.
"It's over," he said.
"No," Rouvin shook his head. "It's just starting."
**********
Evaine tapped her fingernails on the desk, a map of Herridon city spread out in front of her. She closed her eyes at the sudden wave of nausea sweeping through her, then opened them to concentrate on the map again. Nahtan's one look at the castle and cathedral were at Kile's murder trial. The thought of that day sent a stabbing pain through her heart. Jayehl died in Kile's place, proving to her he was one of the most devoted men she ever knew. A tear rolled down her cheek at the loss of Matthios' youngest son. Hopefully, their wounded souls and hearts would begin to heal when Nahtan claimed the throne.
The Bavol Mo'ani would be marching on Herridon the next morning, arriving the same time as the Dwellers and Mo'ani from the Stronghold. They would allow any citizens to leave, then siege-lock the city until Nahtan arrived with his army.
"Have you found anything we've forgotten?" Matthios asked from his chair by the fire.
"No," Evaine shook her head. "The only problem I can see is Nahtan not knowing his way around the castle and Grand Cathedral."
Matthios turned to look at his wife. "Is something wrong?" he asked.
Evaine smiled at him. Matthios had always been able to hear even the slightest variation in her voice. "I was just thinking of Jayehl," she sighed. "He would have loved to be here for this." Standing from her chair, she walked to sit on the floor beside his legs. She took Matthios' hand and pressed it to her cheek, finding a strange comfort in his rough, aged skin. Should she tell him? He had become so distant in the last few years, sometimes not speaking even to her for long hours. She knew losing Jayehl had triggered the mood swings. "I love you, my lord," she said, looking up at him. "And I hope you'll forgive me for keeping secrets from you."
"Your secrets are yours," Matthios said, moving his hand to the back of her hair. "I've never asked for anything but your love."
Evaine smiled. To the end, Matthios would honor his marriage vows to her. "When this is over, I'll be staying at Bavol Hold quite a bit more."
Matthios sensed something more in her voice and looked down at her. "What's wrong?" he repeated.
Evaine's smile grew. "Nothing, I hope," she admitted. Standing up, she took his hand and laid it just below her stomach. "Next spring, you'll be a father again."
Matthios watched his hand, then turned questioning eyes up to her. "Evaine--"
"I know it's unexpected," she told him. "And a surprise for me as well, I certainly never planned for this to happen, especially now."
Matthios nodded. Evaine wouldn't have gotten pregnant on purpose, especially with everything at stake now. He had to believe it was entirely be chance.
"A father again," he repeated.
"We have several months to talk about it," Evaine leaned over to kiss him. "But I do have to get ready for tomorrow."
Matthios nodded and let her go. After so many years, Evaine would give
him a child to represent their marriage.
The Bavol Mo'ani left at dawn the next day, beginning the trek that would end at Herridon's west gates. The army moved at a good pace, and as they neared the walled city, they could see the dust of the Dweller cavalry to their north and Mo'ani's army far to the east.
**********
Mo'ani and Kile watched as Mo'ani's army readied its marching formation. The cavalry was split between the front and the rear, with the archers taking the second position and the infantry marching third.
"A rider just came in," Gharald said, coming over to them. "Valin Hold cleared out the garrison with no problems."
"The Archbishop's cut off," Kile nodded, taking the rolled message from Gharald and reading it before handing it to Mo'ani. "Brijade and Tamnor are waitin' to clear out that garrison when the church guards from it march to intercept Nahtan. Herridon's all that's left."
Mo'ani paused to look at the still-green leaves of late summer. "With any luck, he'll get through before too much time passes. I'd hate to have to hold that city in siege through the winter." While starving the Archbishop and his followers for several months didn't bother him, it was the civilians he was concerned about.
"I'm sure the lad'll do everything 'e can to get through before snowfall," Kile assured him, then paused. "Considerin' what's happened, I think we should send a rider out to meet 'em when they clear Devayne and Takis."
Mo'ani studied the captain for a moment. Kile was right, Nahtan should be aware of the turns his life had taken during his absence.