by Brad Clark
At least they were prepared to defend themselves. He could not imagine the panic and chaos if the siege engines had suddenly appeared one morning and starting firing rocks upon the city without notice. The city was too big to contain such a panic and control its people. Families would have left in droves, taking with them fighting-capable men and boys. There was still much fear, but the chaos was managed and minimized. Guardsmen were stationed throughout the city gathering men to help defend the city. Those that might have left in a panic were convinced to stay and fight not so much with words, but with the calmness of the soldiers and guard who walked the streets.
It was ironic that the queen’s decree to disband the knights was actually helping the situation. Because well-trained and combat veteran men were scattered throughout the guard, they were able to keep the younger men calm, which in turn kept the people of the city calm as well. Everyone was still afraid. Even he was afraid. But he had been in combat, seeing death up close and he was able to think and not run away in a panic. He forced himself to be calm, and he knew that the other former knights were doing the same thing. No knight would dare be caught crying out of fear, but that didn’t mean they didn’t feel any fear.
“Sir Marik!” An out of breath armored soldier called out to him from the steps that led up to the top of the wall.
Marik did not correct the man from using the title that was no longer in use. He turned his back to the catapults that were crawling their way into position. He glanced down at the activity below him where all the city’s carpenters and woodworkers were busy constructing their own defenses. The gates needed to be reinforced, long poles to push away climbing ladders needed to be cut, and they needed their own catapults to counter the Taran weapons. Those who weren’t busy sawing or piecing together their counter-siege weapons were gathering together in groups to cram in a few extra hours of training. For some, it was the first time ever holding a sword or a bow. For others, it was just a refresher course.
He took a long breath at the sight he saw. This was not an army, but a mishmash of merchants, sailors, and tradesmen. What he really needed were mounted soldiers, the kind that were trained to kill.
When the soldier reached him, Marik asked, “What is it?”.
The soldier clearly had run some distance. Not only was he breathing hard, but his round cheeks were red and he was sweating, despite the cold temperature. Between gasps to catch his breath, he said, “Your presence is requested at the castle.”
Marik continued to watch the men and women who were bustling about on the ground below them. “There will be war when the sun is fully above the horizon. I am needed here to prepare our defenses.”
“It is the queen, Sir Marik, you must come.”
“What?” Marik’s demeanor instantly changed. “Is something wrong? Is she okay?”
The soldier shook his head, but said, “Yes, she is fine, now. But you must come. Hurry!”
Marik feared the worst. This was one time when the kingdom needed its leader to be the figurehead that she was. Morale throughout the city was teetering, and if anything happened to the queen, it would certainly fall to the point where no one would care to fight. If that happened, he might as well just swing the gates open and invite the Tarans in. It would certainly save a lot of bloodshed.
There were many horses that had been gathered from around the city. Most were warhorses, aching to carry their armor-clad knights into battle. But some were light and fast riding horses. He took one of those, as it would not be missed on the battlefield. He sprinted his way through the city, dodging pedestrians and other riders who were making their way from their homes to the main gate.
The portcullis was up and he did not break stride as he steered his horse through the gate and into the courtyard. He had to come to a quick stop as the courtyard was packed with costumed guests streaming out of the Great Hall heading straight for their comfortable carriages. Many had looks of fear, but there were some that had pulled off their masks and looked back at him with a steely gaze. It was not difficult to figure out which carriages were going to head straight for the front gate and which ones were heading for safety.
Through the line of carriages, Lord Martin called out to him, waving his hand. He ran up to Marik and took his horse’s reins. “I am so glad you came as soon as you could! You must hurry before it is too late.”
Marik dismounted and said, “What is it?”
“Hurry, you must come to the queen’s chambers.” He had turned and was already walking as quickly as he could through the courtyard towards the castle.
Marik jogged to catch up. “Is she all right? Is she ill? What is wrong!”
“She was attacked. In her chambers!”
Marik sprinted past the plump lord, running without thought towards her chamber.
A handful of soldiers, swords sheathed, were milling about in her antechamber. He ignored them as he ran past and straight through the open door.
Elissa looked up, her eyes wide with surprise. Her hair was pulled back into a single thick pony tail, tied by a thin piece of leather. She wore a thick leather armor coat that had no sleeves. One of the blacksmiths was currently strapping a modified breastplate to her front. The top had been pounded out to accommodate her upper body.
Marik paused at the sight. He had forgotten how beautiful the woman really was. And now, dressed as manly as he had ever seen her, she was still as stunning as ever.
“My queen,” Marik said with a dip of his head. He looked around the room, but all seemed to be in order. “You were attacked?”
“Marik,” Elissa replied coolly in greeting. “Should you not be preparing our defenses?”
“Lord Martin said you were attacked. Are you okay?”
“It seems that they make armor to fit a woman’s body, too,” Elissa said, as if he was not speaking to her.
“Your Majesty, are you okay?” He raised his voice to ensure that he was heard.
“Yes, of course,” Elissa finally replied.
Marik finally breathed. “What happened?”
“Tarans,” Toknon said from a corner of the room. “I am sure of it.”
King Toknon had been in the room, but Marik had not noticed him until he spoke. He looked at the king of their northern neighbor suspiciously. “You were here?”
“Of course,” he replied. “I had promised to protect her.”
“The Taran army is out there and we must prepare our defenses,” Marik said. “We’ll leave fifty men here at the castle to guard the queen. We’ll need everyone else at the walls.”
Elissa turned on Marik and snapped, “I will not sit up here in my castle while I ask my people to defend the city. I will do as any king has ever done. I will join the fight!”
“But you have never trained with the sword, or the bow!” Lord Martin called out. He just arrived, huffing and puffing. He wiped sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.
For once, Marik agreed with the lord. He said, “It is true, my queen. Princes are trained from early on in the arts of the sword and bow. Tactics learned over centuries of defending the kingdom are taught right alongside reading and writing.”
“Yes!” Lord Martin added. “You cannot do this. We must have you here in the castle!”
Elissa’s eyes narrowed and her lips turned up into a sneer. “My father rode out of that gate not half a year ago to fight a war that he should never have fought. He did not think once about whether or not he should be at the head of that army. I was there, on top of the wall, seeing the entire city cheering him on, thankful that he was their ruler and would risk his life for theirs. I will do no less!”
“You are but a child!” Lord Martin argued.
Elissa stepped over to one of her guards and yanked a sword out of its scabbard. She lifted it up and held it high. “I am not child! I am the queen of the kingdom. I may not be an expert with this, but I know which end goes where!”
Lord Martin turned to Marik and said with an exasperated voice, �
�I cannot convince her. She must stay here for her own safety. She cannot defend herself on the battlefield! Marik, you must help me convince her.”
Marik stepped forward towards Elissa. Her eyes glistened with anger as she assumed his next words. He took hold of the sword around the handle, but she resisted at first, expecting him to try and pull it away from her. With one hand, he pushed her hands up from the bottom of the sword’s handle to the top. Touching her skin, he realized how soft she was. If she were to be a true leader of her kingdom, she would have to harden up. Looking deep into her eyes, he suddenly realized that maybe she had.
With a soft, fatherly voice, he said, “You are not as strong as a man, so you must make sure that your grip is high, right up to the hilt. Do not squeeze so that your knuckles are white. Hold firmly.”
She did so, and dropped the sword to her side. “Thank you,” she said. Her eyes trailed to a spot on the floor where Kimmie had fallen. Most of the blood had been cleaned up, but there was still a stain on the floor. “I could not defend myself. I could not save Kimmie.”
Marik felt Toknon start to take a step forward, but he moved to comfort her first. He cupped her face in his hands. “You do not need to fight this battle alone. You have an army to fight for you. I will not stop you from fighting, but Lord Martin is right in that you cannot lead the army from the front. But there is no reason that you cannot stand the walls alongside your soldiers. Many of your ancestors did just that, walking high upon the walls so everyone could see them. If they see you there, unafraid, then they too will be unafraid. That is how you can lead your kingdom.”
“Marik!” Lord Martin protested one last time. “She must be protected in the castle!”
His words fell on deaf ears as Marik helped finish arming the queen.
Chapter Twenty
The scratching above their heads woke Conner with a start. He had been sound asleep and the suddenness of being abruptly awakened left him groggy and confused. He pulled himself up to his feet, shaking his head to regain the full capacity of his senses. Glaerion was standing a few feet away, his head up, watching the door.
“Is it opening?” Conner asked.
“Someone has been digging for a bit. It seems like a very inefficient way to hide a trap door.”
“We don’t have magic to hide things,” Conner replied.
“Maybe just a thick, heavy rug would do.”
“I didn’t come up with this tunnel idea,” Conner snapped back, letting his irritation show. “This has been here for hundreds of years and it seems to have worked well enough.”
“And we’ll be here for hundreds of years if this person doesn’t dig faster.”
A few moments later, a shovel knocked on the wooden door as it scooped up the last of the dirt that covered it. With an audible grunt from above, the door was opened, spilling bright light into the tunnel. Glaerion had taken a step back, so he had avoided the dirt that fell down into through the doorway. Conner, not patient enough to wait, had moved to be right underneath the opening and got a face-full of dirt.
The elf chuckled and muttered something about stupid humans.
A young woman’s face appeared in the opening. “Come on up,” she said.
Conner climbed the ladder first. The young woman looked at him and gave him a smile of recognition as he stepped through the doorway. He remembered her face, but not her name. She had been very kind to him the last time that he had escaped through the tunnels, giving him a hunting bow and knife.
“You’re back,” she said. “I thought for sure you would be dead by now!”
“What?” Conner stepped off the ladder and into the middle of their house. But her face went from his to Glaerion’s as soon as his head appeared through the doorway.
“This is Glaerion,” Conner said. “He’s an elf.”
The elf’s face turned a slight shade of red. “You don’t have to tell everyone.” Again, the stupid human comment was muttered under his breath.
“Elf?” she asked.
A low rumble of a growl escaped from his lips. “Yes. An elf.” With graceful ease, he jumped from the ladder to the floor. To Conner he said, “We need to move quickly. It is already getting light.”
But Conner was still stuck on her words to him. Her name also came back to him. “Laura, right? What did you mean that you thought I would be dead?”
“It was nothing,” she replied. “I should not have said anything. I know I am not supposed to talk to the travelers at all. Let’s just keep it that way.”
She turned to step away, but Conner touched her on her arm. Not hard, just enough to let her know that he wanted her to stay.
“Laura, why did you think that I would be dead now?”
Glaerion fidgeted, his eyes glancing at the door. He had given up on getting Conner to move quickly. But if he didn’t get moving in another minute, he would just leave him here. Except, he would have to find a way to carry the Ark.
“When you left this house, you were a boy that had become a man without ever enjoying being a child. You have killed. I can see it in you. It is the same look that my Dane had when he came back from fighting the Thellians. And now he’s left again.”
“Where’d he go?” Conner asked.
“To the city, of course. With all the other men and boys. The soldiers came calling in the middle of the night to gather up whoever could carry a sword. You came from the city. Do you not know what is going on?”
“No,” Glaerion said angrily. “We’ve been in the tunnel for some time.”
“Oh, sorry,” Laura replied. “I was feeding my baby and I had to finish before I could dig the door out. They say it is the army from Taran.”
“Tarcious,” Glaerion said. “He is here and he is marching on the city to take the Ark by force. We have to get out of here and now!”
“What should I do?” Laura asked.
“Get into the city,” Conner said. He looked down into the darkness of the tunnel. “Back through the tunnel. There is an old man at the other end. He’ll help you.”
Laura quickly gathered up her sleeping baby. She looked around, wondering what else she should take, but there really was no way to climb down the ladder with the baby and carry anything. With Conner’s help, she carefully descended the ladder. Conner handed a lit lamp down to her so she could find her way to the other side of the tunnel.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Find your husband,” Conner said with a smile. Then he dropped the door closed. He picked up a shovel and started tossing dirt onto the door.
“What are you doing? We don’t have time for this!”
“Quick griping!” Conner said. “What happens when centurions come busting into this house and see a doorway in the floor. You think they’ll just leave it? No, they’ll go streaming into the city. And I am sure that Tarcious wouldn’t mind casting one of his fireballs to break down the door at the other end of the tunnel.”
“If they are streaming into the city, it means they aren’t chasing after us.”
Conner wanted to drive the blade of the shovel deep into the elf’s head. “This is my kingdom, my city, my people. I don’t care that you don’t like us humans. I am going to do whatever I can to protect them. So you can either help me fill in this hole, or you can sit there and wait for me.”
Glaerion was clearly angry, but he did not continue the argument. There was not another shovel in sight, so he dropped to his knees and began pushing piles of dirt into the hole.
When they were all done, a small rug was placed over the loose dirt. The rug did not look out of place, so a casual observer would not easily notice that there was freshly moved dirt underneath. Maybe a careful observer would notice it, but they would have to be looking specifically for a trap door in the ground. Conner also took the shovel outside and set it against the house. It would have been suspicious for a shovel to be sitting in the middle of the house.
Laura and Dane’s house was about a hundred yards from the wall in a c
lump of other houses that were built outside the city gates. There were many such dwellings that slowly grew out from the city, built by people who no longer worried about the protection of city walls. But as Conner and Glaerion began to trot away from the city, he realized there would be many homeless people after this battle.
He could see the Taran forces in the distance. Since they were on the ground, he could not see them as clearly as if they were up on the wall. But what he saw was enough to know that Tarcious was serious about attacking the city. Centurions were slowly streaming out of the forest, marching to the beat of a drum. Even from this distance, he could hear its deep pounding beat. As they came out of the trees in a chaotic mass, they continued marching and formed up into even rows. Conner did not wait to see how many hundreds, or thousands of Taran centurions were coming for battle. His trot turned into a full run as he, Glaerion, and many others stuck outside the city ran for the river.
***
“Is it safe here?” Queen Elissa asked.
“Their crossbowmen are at the forest edge,” Marik replied. “Too far to reach us. We are safe, for now.”
Elissa looked out at the centurions as they formed up into their battlefield formations. She tried to count how many there might be, but it was futile. There were so many of them, marching through the cold and snow.
“How are we ever going to win?” Elissa said softly.
“Win? There is no winning, only survival. They will attack us, and we must repel their attacks. And we must kill enough of them that they lose the taste for fighting. But in the meantime, we will lose many of our own men. And boys. And maybe ladies, too.”
“You think I should not be here?”
“That is not my call.”
“But it is what you think.”
“It does not matter what I think, Your Majesty.” He would not directly tell the queen she should not be here, but he wanted to make sure that she knew his feelings. Maybe it would help her change her mind and return to the safety of the castle. Although he felt that her safety was important, he understood why she wanted to be here. And he didn’t blame her one bit, even if he did feel she should not be exposed atop the walls.