by Brad Clark
Elissa was afraid. Not of dying or even of losing her kingdom, but of the death that was to come. She had never seen a true battle between armies, but she had seen its aftermath. Not only missing limbs and scars, but the missing husbands, fathers, brothers and sons. It was personal for her because of how she had lost her father. He had gone into battle with a city cheering him on. At that time, it had been many years since the Knights of Karmon had gone into battle and no one remembered the horrors of battle. Or they refused to remember. It had been a celebration where the good citizens of the kingdom took up arms against the evil kingdom to the north. Except the kingdom to the north ended up not being so evil. Years of irrational hatred had forged a belief that Karmons were good and Thellians were bad. But in reality, they were really no different than one another.
She wondered if that was true of Tarans. Were they just like Karmons? Do these soldiers, who were marching upon the battle field right in front of her, have families just like theirs? Did they go marching off to war with cheering and celebration, too? And will they return to their homes broken men because they witnessed the atrocities of war? Elissa did not want to think of them as people just like herself, she would rather think of them as hated enemies. It made it easier to imagine their deaths if she hated them. But Taran was not supposed to be their enemy. There were likely many Taran merchants still in their city trying to earn a simple living trading their wares. A good portion of the city’s economy relied upon foreign trade. But if they were smart, they would go into hiding. For once the battle started, their lives would not be spared.
“Why are they here?” Elissa said, asking the question that was on the mind of every Karmon who watched the Taran centurions fill the battlefield.
“Taran history is filled with irrational wars,” Marik said. “Sometimes wars happen because of pride and ego. Or an insult can lead an emperor or king to march his army to right a perceived wrong.”
“You don’t think this is my fault, do you?” Elissa asked. “I sent their admiral home and didn’t let them have their garrison within the city. You don’t think this is why they are here, do you?”
“The mind of an emperor doesn’t always make sense, especially a man with the reputation of Emperor Tarcious.”
“So it’s possible then, that this is all my fault?”
“You cannot worry about such things. It’s hard enough dealing with those things that you do have control of, so to worry about things that you don’t have control of will only make you go crazy. But no, it is not your fault.”
Elissa fell silent and her gaze moved to the part of the city that lay just outside the walls. People were running from their homes, heading for the river. A few were on horseback. Some even had loaded their lives into wagons and were pulling them to what they hoped was safety. The Tarans were content to let them go, unconcerned about a few hundred Karmons escaping the city.
“Should we do something about them? Open the gates and let them in?”
“They are safer outside the city,” Marik replied. “The centurions are ruthless, but they are not savages. They do not go about killing innocent bystanders.”
“Are you sure?”
“No, just hopeful.”
While Elissa looked south to the river, watching a too-small number of her people run for safety, Marik looked up and down the wall. Every able bodied bowman was on the wall, a bow in hand and a quiver full of arrows on their backs. Young boys, too short to pull a bowstring back were running along the top of the wall, filling quivers. One of the nearby inns had been taken over by fletchers who worked tirelessly to make as many arrows as they could. They didn’t even have to be high quality arrows. By the time the bowmen got to use those arrows, the battle would be right at their doorstep and distance accuracy would no longer be an issue.
Then he looked behind the wall where the Karmon army had mustered. There were swordsmen and pikemen as far as he could see, crowding the streets so much that it was nearly impossible to pass through. Like the fletchers, every able bodied blacksmith was busy sharpening swords and turning any type of steel into a sharp instrument of war. He stretched his neck looking for his own men. His knights. Even though the true Knights of Karmon had been disbanded, their duty would always be to the kingdom. And they would show when needed.
“What now?” Elissa asked. “Do we just wait?”
“If we had five thousand mounted knights, I would send them out to attack their foot soldiers. We would slaughter them and the war would be over just as soon as it started.”
“We don’t have five thousand knights?”
Marik let out a sigh. “No. And if we did, they would send thirty thousand foot soldiers at us. Tarans are smart and experienced warriors. They know just how many soldiers they need to fight a war. Too many, and it becomes a logistical nightmare as they all have to be fed and cared for. The supply caravans would be long and unwieldy. They have just exactly the number of soldiers they feel they need.”
“How do they know?”
Marik spat out the word. “Neffenmark, of course.”
“Oh,” Elissa responded and then she fell silent as a cheer from a mile away reached their ears.
***
Conner was out of breath by the time they reached the docks at the river. Glaerion had not broken a sweat, nor did he take one deep breath. The near full sprint that Conner ran appeared to be but an easy walk for the elf. That, and the nonchalant way that Glaerion acted about his abilities, made it hard for the elf to be likable. Especially when he was cold and sarcastic most of the time. But he seemed to be more friend than enemy, which is something that Conner highly valued right now.
They had not made the sprint alone. Hundreds of other men, women, and children who had not made it inside the gate before it was closed descended upon the river. But they soon realized that there was not any place to go. The river cogs that Conner had always remembered as constantly flowing up and down the river were nowhere to be seen. There were two ships in the river. The one he recognized as Captain Janari’s boat was tied up at the end of one of the piers. The other, a somewhat plain looking single-masted ship was anchored downstream near the mouth of the river. It did not occur to him that it was strategically placed.
A crowd gathered on the pier, shouting and yelling to be allowed onboard. But Captain Janari kept his gangplank raised and armed his sailors with bows to keep the mob at bay. There were a few angry insults cast at the captain, but mostly the crowd was pleading and begging to be let aboard. A few had ventured into the river and risked the cold and dangerous swim to the southern banks. The swift moving current coupled with the near freezing temperature of the water made for a deadly combination. Of those that took the risk, only a handful would make it alive to the other side.
Conner and Glaerion pushed their way through crowd and stood at the edge of the pier. The sailors had loosened the lines that tied the boat to the pier, which made the boat drift out and away from the pier. It dissuaded anyone from trying to jump aboard, but it also meant that it was going to be impossible for Conner and Glaerion to get aboard without the boat being pulled closer to the dock. And if they did that, the crowd would push forward and try and leap aboard.
“Give me the Ark,” Glaerion said. “I can make the jump. It is better anyway. I’ll take it far away from here, back to my homeland so that it can never fall into Tarcious’ or the Deceiver’s hands.”
Conner touched the wooden box that was uncomfortably stuffed inside his shirt. He knew that the elf was being honest and had good intentions, but Conner could not let himself part with it. “It is mine to carry and hide. I cannot just give it away.”
The elf let out his customary huff and low growl. “Stupid humans,” he said. “You have always felt the need to be melodramatic. This isn’t about you, or how you feel. It’s about the safety of the Ark. It must be hidden at all costs. I don’t care about you or your burden. Now give it to me!”
Conner felt the need to draw his swords, but he ref
rained. It was so tightly packed on the dock that if he did draw them, he would end up hurting someone around him. He looked closely at the gap between the pier and the boat. He knew it was too far to jump across, but not by much. He would simply need one more step to make the leap. The boat was moving slightly with the current, being pulled away in one moment, then back in the next. There was a pattern to the movement, which meant it was predictable.
He looked over at the elf and smiled. Then he turned towards the bow of the boat where one of the lines secured it to the pier. At that moment, the current pulled the boat away from the pier, pulling the line tight. At that moment, he made his move, pushing his way through the crowd at the edge of the pier and taking three long strides before he took one last long step. His right foot hit the tight rope and he pushed off with all his effort, reaching towards the boat. With a face-rattling crash, he hit too low on the boat to grasp the railing, but two strong hands were waiting for him and grabbed the back of his cloak and pulled him up and over the railing into the boat. His face had struck the boat hard, splitting his lip, which he smiled through.
Glaerion landed softly right next to him, rattling off a string of words in elven that were likely not very friendly. Captain Janari quickly grabbed an axe and cut the line at the bow and ordered the aft line to be cut as well. It would have been only another moment before someone else tried to do what Conner did.
The boat started to drift out into the middle of the river when the sound of rocks striking the city’s wall reached their ears. Heads spun at the sound just in time to see the second round of rocks crash onto the walls.
***
Marik watched in awe as the strange looking catapults at the rear of the army tossed their load. The counterweight at the front of the machine acted upon the long, straight timber, causing the small load of rocks to sail high into the air towards the city. The gate was the strongest and most well defended part of the city, which is why the first volleys were not aimed at it. When the rocks hit the wall, they exploded into thousands of pieces of dust. The wall was marked from the impact, but there was no apparent damage.
The army behind him let out a cheer that easily rivaled the cheers and shouts that came from the Taran army. The second catapult launched its load, but it didn’t even reach the wall. The rocks fell harmlessly short of the wall. More cheers erupted from his army.
Then the three smaller, more traditional catapults launched their loads. They were closer and were able to toss larger rocks. One of the catapults missed short, but the other two struck the wall. The rocks struck hard, tearing out chunks of the wall. Marik knew that their supply of rocks would be limited, but a few more hits like that, and the wall would be breached. Large wagons full of rocks were already descending upon the catapults to replenish their loads. The next volley would only be minutes away.
“Will the wall hold?” Elissa asked.
“It will take many rocks and much time. But if we do nothing, they will have the time. We must do something.” He turned to look back at his army. They were anxious to fight for their city, but he was not anxious to have them die. He could not bear the responsibility of their deaths. Their lives were not his to give.
“We must attack,” Elissa said. “Is that not right? Is that not what you are saying?”
“Yes,” Marik replied. “If we sit back and wait for them, they will lay siege and starve us out. They will knock holes in the walls and they will stream in and take over the city. If we attack them now, we will catch them off guard and maybe just turn them back.”
“And then what? They are an empire and will have more soldiers to send at us.”
In the midst of what was about to be a tremendous amount of death, Marik smiled. It was a smile of thankfulness that he was able to know this incredibly brave young woman. Not only was she standing upon the top of the wall with him, she was dressed and ready to fight. She had grown into her father’s daughter. He knew that she was afraid, but she did not show it in her voice or in her stance. King Thorndale gave his life upon the battlefield and it was the only way the he could have gone. Elissa was just like him in that manner. She knew her responsibility to the kingdom and even knowing it would mean her death, it is what she embraced.
And she also understood the gravity of the situation and was not hiding from it.
“There will be but one battle,” Marik said. “We will fight and we will win this one. But if they come again and again, we will not be able to stop them.”
“Then we must show them how Karmons fight and show them that they should never come back!”
Marik actually let out a laugh, which surprised himself more than anything. His words became suddenly solemn. “You would have made a great queen.”
Elissa could not hold back the tears, but she said, “I would have enjoyed it.”
Marik drew his sword and turned to the Karmon army. “To Karmon!” He lifted his sword and they did the same. Three more times, he lifted his sword, and the sound of the army echoed out of the city.
***
“What is that sound?” Hargon asked, stretching his neck to see who was shouting.
“It is the army,” Conner said softly. “My army. They are going to fight the Tarans.”
“And they will all die. But we are safe.” Hargon turned to Captain Janari and said, “Raise the sails and let’s get out of here!”
Captain Janari did not respond. The boat was slowly drifting downriver with current. The wind was blowing in their faces, so raising the sails would do little to help them. If they needed to move quickly, he would order his sailors to their oars, but they were all busy preparing the ship for the sea. He lifted his looking glass to his eye and scanned the battlefield. The catapults were tossing rocks at the wall doing minimum damage. It would take many more rocks than what they had in their supply wagons to break through the tall and tough wall that surrounded the city. The Taran army had split up into four groups and were mostly holding back, waiting for the walls to fall.
Then he scanned the top of the wall. There were many bowmen who lined the walls, using the wall’s parapets for cover. But there were two figures who stood above them all, right on top of a parapet near the city’s main gate. He was sure that one looked like an elf with long blonde hair tied back behind his head. But he knew that there were no other elves in the land. Which meant the long hair did not belong to an elf, but to a human female.
It surprised him so much that he said aloud, “A female. Isn’t that interesting.”
“What?” Conner asked, hearing the captain say the words but wasn’t sure that he heard him right.
Captain Janari repeated, “There is a woman atop the wall. Blonde. In battle gear.”
Conner snatched the looking glass from the captain’s grasp and put it up to his right eye. There was no doubt it was her. His heart suddenly pounded hard and fast in his chest. He could not just leave her like this. He had a duty and a promise to keep. It did not matter that it had been spoken out of naivety. He had committed to being her protector, her champion. He needed to follow through on his promise.
“I must go back,” Conner said.
“There is no going back,” the captain said. “The current is taking us to the sea. We are headed home.”
“I cannot go,” Conner replied. “That is my home. Those are my people and I cannot leave them. I cannot leave Elissa to this.”
“Listen to yourself,” Hargon interjected. “The battle is way over there, and there is open sea right in front of us. We have the Ark and we can get away.”
“For once I agree with the hairy human,” Glaerion said. “It is no longer your battle. You said it yourself that you have a duty to carry the Ark. Above all else, it must be protected and saved from falling into the hands of Tarcious and the Deceiver.”
“I cannot watch as my kingdom falls. I must do something.”
“You are doing something,” Hargon said. “You are taking this Ark away from here. This is why Taran is attacking, to ge
t the Ark. Now you want to take it right back to them?”
“No, Glaerion was right all along. You don’t need me.” Conner walked over to Hargon and took his arm by the wrist and turned his hand so the palm was up. He reached inside his shirt and pulled out the wooden box that held the Ark and placed it in his hand. Hargon had to grab it or it would have fallen on the deck of the boat. “There, it is now yours to take to the elven land.”
“I don’t want it!” Hargon said, staring at the box that was now sitting in the palm of his hand.
Conner quickly stepped away and climbed up on the railing. “To the shore! Take me to the shore!”
Captain Janari glanced at Glaerion, who gave a quick nod of his head. The captain shouted commands to his pilot, who pushed the tiller so the boat turned towards shore.
“Conner!” Hargon called out. “What are you doing?”
But Conner did not hear the former Taran emperor. His only focus was on the city of South Karmon and the army that lay siege to it. As he stood upon the railing, holding onto one of the thin tethers that supported the main mast, he heard more cheering coming from the city. It was as if everyone in the city was shouting at the top of their lungs. Conner knew this was the right thing to do and the excitement that was coursing through his body just confirmed his instincts.
For the first time in many months, he felt at peace with his decision. He was going back home.
The boat could not get right up to the northern river bank, but it got close enough that he was only waste deep when he jumped into the water. He landed hard, almost losing his balance when the shock of the cold water struck him. The current was swift and almost knocked him over, but with a couple of quick steps, he was pulling himself through the water. He wished that he had asked Glaerion or one of the other elves to cast that invisible bridge spell, but his mind was solely focused on getting back to South Karmon.