by CS Sealey
“My people…” the queen wailed. “My poor, poor people.”
As they watched, a great black eagle rose from behind the monastery and lifted into the air, a shimmering figure against a thick cloud of gray smoke. Angora immediately began to summon. Though she was tired beyond belief, she would protect the castle and all those within it, nobles, soldiers and servants alike. A swarm of silver sparks spewed from the end of her staff and took shape into a flock of angry albino crows, shimmering blue in the pale light of the moon. Fly, she bid them silently. Take it down!
The swarm of birds soared through the air, screeching and cawing. They swooped and dived, scratched and pecked. Eventually, the huge eagle turned away, spewing golden sparks from its wounds. The crows pursued it for a while and Angora let them, knowing they would return once the beast was dead.
“It’s no use,” the queen said suddenly, burying her face in her hands. “How can we fight such a force?”
“I do not know.”
Angora looked at the queen and noticed how alarmingly small and vulnerable she now appeared. Angora knew that she herself had grown in the years since she had first stood before this great woman but she had not realized exactly how much until that moment. They were almost the same height and the intimidating majesty she had once seen in Queen Sorcha was nowhere to be found; the woman was shaking with despair and her cheeks shone with tears. It was as though she was personally feeling the death of each and every one of her loyal subjects.
They heard a great boom, and a flash of green in the middle city made them both start. When the force of the blast hit them, a hot gust of wind ruffled their hair and clothes, smelling of burning flesh and wood.
“The wall,” Angora muttered. “Varren must have breached the last wall.”
The queen wailed, but a crackle and flash of white in the forecourt below drew their attention. A great cloud of mist exploded and three figures stumbled out of it – Markus, Kayte and General Kaster. The general was limping badly from what appeared to be a wound in his thigh and was leaning a little on Markus. Kayte hurried to the gate and rapped on the heavy doors.
“In the name of Queen Sorcha, open this door!”
“Stay here!” Angora told the queen. She hurried from the balcony, along the open corridor, down the stairs and across the courtyard to the entrance hall, startling several anxious servants on the way.
“It is safe!” she cried to the gate wardens. “Let them enter!”
The wardens obeyed and, within seconds, Markus, Kayte and the general were inside the castle, taking deep, heaving breaths. As Angora approached, Kayte gestured to Kaster’s wound. “It was an arrow,” she explained. “It may have been poisoned.”
Angora ripped a torch off its bracket and bent down to inspect the wound. The general kept as still as he could as Angora carefully lifted the material of his trouser away from the wound and surrounding skin. The arrow had grazed his flesh but no traces of it remained, not even a splinter from the shaft.
“The wound is clean,” she said as she inspected the gash. “I doubt you have been poisoned but there is only one way to be sure. The healers have all been instructed on the best remedies, I suggest you go and see them.”
“If I have been poisoned, I’m dead already,” Kaster muttered. “I must report to the queen. Where is she?”
“The main balcony,” Angora said. “She will need any good news you can give her.”
“I’m afraid I have none. The uppermost wall is breached. Varren will be through very soon. Emil and Tiderius are down there battling to keep him and his army at bay while our men retreat, but I expect to see them coming up the hill any moment. Only a few hundred provide any resistance now.” General Kaster patted Markus on the shoulder. “I’ll be all right from here.”
“No, I will escort you,” the wizard said, crossing the entrance hall with him. “I have my own news to deliver.”
Angora and Kayte followed closely but paused in the courtyard. A swarm of crows was descending in circles from the dark sky. Angora raised her staff and the birds disintegrated into a coil of silver sparks. The smoke that was drifting up from all districts of the city was starting to accumulate above Te’Roek, resembling a fierce storm cloud. The echoing booms of spells were no longer as frequent nor as loud, and Angora wondered whether Emil and Tiderius had somehow managed to push Varren back down the hill or whether they simply did not have the strength to continue the fight.
“They should break off the attack,” she muttered.
“Don’t worry,” Kayte said. “Tiderius is a great swordsman. He knows when to retreat.”
“I hope so. Varren is simply too strong for any of us to hope to defeat.”
“That remains to be seen.”
“If you truly believe that, then you are blind.”
Before Kayte could respond, a group of no less than sixty men scrambled up the last few steps to the castle forecourt toward the open gates.
“Rasmus!” Angora cried.
“They are almost upon us!” he shouted, quite out of breath. “We must prepare the castle for a last stand!”
“Come inside quickly,” Kayte said and ushered him into the entrance hall along with his men. “Any others?”
Rasmus shook his head. “Our force is so scattered, I doubt any resistance will still be…” He glanced around anxiously. “Have no others arrived?”
“You are the first,” Kayte said solemnly.
“You should disperse!” Angora said. “There are only a few ways out of this castle, all of them narrow. Varren has already shown that enchanted walls are no obstacle for him. Your men will be cornered and slaughtered!”
“That is one thing you may never understand about Ronnesians, Angora,” Rasmus said, shaking his head. “Each of these men would gladly give up their lives defending this castle so long as the queen resides within it.”
“But the queen could leave now! Kayte, you could take her to Milena. She will be safe there. Emil took Korrosus only hours ago, did he not? All these men do not have to risk their lives!”
“I agree,” Kayte said, “but the decision is hers and hers alone.”
“My men won’t let this city fall. They will fight to the last man.”
“By the Goddess, Rasmus, it has already fallen!” Angora cried. “How are we supposed to fight back if all your men are dead? This battle is lost! Why will nobody – ”
The ground shook and Angora stumbled. The men who had gathered near the archway that led into the courtyard all cried out in surprise, some falling to their knees and others clutching at the columns for support.
“I have been away too long,” Kayte muttered, scrambling back to her feet. “They need my help.” She tore across the entrance hall, through the gates and across the castle forecourt. Angora stood there, dumbfounded, wondering what had occurred to make the ground tremble so dramatically.
“Are you all right?”
Angora did not immediately register that Rasmus was talking to her and flinched when he laid a hand on her shoulder.
“I am fine,” she said when he repeated the question. “Are you really all there is left?”
“Most are scattered throughout the city. Though I hate to say it, we had best close the gates.”
“Did you see your brother?”
“Momentarily. He told me not to expect their return. If they are overcome, they will find their own way back. That’s all he said. Gods, I’m so tired…”
“As am I,” Angora muttered. “But I should be going. I can see Vrór’s creatures better from the roof. If the castle is breached, I will return.”
CHAPTER 58
The castle gates shuddered, but stood steady against the force of the ram. The gate wardens yelled to the soldiers in the courtyard that it was time. As they hurried to take up their positions in the entrance hall, Rasmus raced up the stairs and along the open corridor to the queen’s meeting room, where Markus Taal, General Kaster and Sorcha were standing in quiet and anxious conve
rsation.
“The Ayons are at the gate,” he reported, interrupting them. “It will not be long before they’re through. Your Majesty, you should leave.”
“No, I cannot abandon my people!”
“If you don’t take this chance, you’ll die!” Rasmus cried. “Or worse. From what I’ve heard of Varren, he will not be merciful. You are no warrior, my lady. You must leave!”
“I agree,” the general said. “There’s no possibility that the castle will be able to hold out against such a great force, magic barriers or no.”
The queen’s resolve faltered and she glanced at Lord Taal for guidance. The old wizard stroked the gray bristles on his chin and glanced out the window, deep in thought.
“Where are Emil and Tiderius?” the general muttered. “They said they would fall back if they were outnumbered. They should have reached the gates before the Ayons, but there’s been no sign.”
Another loud thud made them flinch. The servants gathered about the queen began to murmur among themselves in fear. Most of them were armed but the queen’s ladies-in-waiting were visibly trembling, and if not for their overwhelming loyalty to their mistress, they would have bolted hours before with the rest of the staff.
Rasmus looked through the arched windows and scoured the path leading up to the castle, but he could see nothing but the scores of Ayon soldiers marching relentlessly up the hill. Soon, the forecourt would be covered in crimson-garbed soldiers. He clenched his jaw in resolution and withdrew.
“Your Majesty,” he insisted, “now really is the time!”
“Indeed,” Markus said, and touched the queen’s arm lightly. “There is nothing more you can do. If the castle falls, it would only be a matter of time before an Ayon found you and I cannot hold off hundreds of men. Please allow me to escort you to Milena.”
“This is unthinkable!” the queen moaned.
“Your Majesty, your people need you safe, not dead at Varren’s feet. Think of your women and servants.”
A great shudder from the floor below was followed by anxious shouting.
“General, I will lead the defense downstairs until you’re all safely away,” Rasmus cried, heading for the door.
“There are only a handful of you down there, Auran! You won’t last a minute against that horde!”
“We all spoke the oath when we were boys. We will defend the queen with our lives and show no fear nor hesitation in doing so. It will be my honor to die here.”
He sprang through the door and hurried for the stairs. His men were formed in a last defiant defense in the entrance hall when he arrived, their brows furrowed in determination. Faces were dotted with perspiration and swords dripped blood, but if the men were tired, they did not show it.
The wardens had secured the gates with great wooden beams, and Rasmus’s soldiers had fetched all the chairs and tables they could find from the surrounding rooms to pile high against the gate. But this primitive barricade, coupled with the enchantments, would not hold indefinitely against the might of the Ayons’ ram. The door was already beginning to splinter and small chips of wood scattered onto the smooth marble floor.
Another great thud. The men flinched in unison.
“Rasmus!”
Surprised, he turned to see Tiderius and Emil crossing the courtyard toward him. “You’re making quite a habit of turning up at the last moment! How did you get here?”
“Where’s the queen?” the shaman asked, his hair and robes disheveled.
“Still upstairs.”
Tiderius cursed under his breath and wiped the back of his hand across his brow.
“Lord Taal and General Kaster should be with her,” Rasmus added. “I’m sure the two of them can persuade her to leave even if I can’t.”
“And Kayte?”
“Then you haven’t seen her? She went to find you not too long ago.”
“She must have just missed us,” Tiderius said. “We came along the path beside the monastery.”
“And what of Angora?” Emil asked. “What have you seen of her?”
“She’s on the roof.”
The ram pounded once more against the castle gates.
“We could use your help in beating them back, but we’d all feel better if the queen was safely away, then we would have the freedom to retreat if need be.”
“It will be done,” Emil said, turning to the stairs. “Markus or I will take the queen, by force, if we must. When you hear us, call the retreat.”
The ram gave another mighty crunch against the door and more splinters fell onto the marble floor of the entrance hall. The shaman darted away, leaving the two brothers together with what remained of the Ronnesian resistance.
*
Angora ran across the roof, leaped and cleared the parapets. She felt herself falling and saw the dark ground rushing up to meet her, but then there was a screech, a great thud of wings below her, and her haladrai caught her across its shoulder blades. She instinctively positioned her feet just above its wings and clamped her knees fast to steady herself. As they soared over the monastery, she clutched her staff tighter. She had not seen any of Vrór’s beasts for a long while, as the smoke had continued to thicken, obscuring her view. Determined not to be idle despite her weariness, she returned to the city. With Emil, Markus and Tiderius now protecting the castle, and with General Kaster’s levelheaded mind, they would be able to hold the Ayon advance off for as long as humanly possible.
There was a great flash from the middle city coupled with a loud explosion. Angling her eagle into a steep dive, they streaked down the natural contour of the rise, swerving to avoid the monastery towers. A cloud of dust was still settling around the impact point of the spell, making it impossible to see clearly to the street level. Her eagle folded its wings and landed on the cobblestones of a wide thoroughfare nearby.
Faint starlight was penetrating the layer of gray-brown smoke that hovered over Te’Roek, revealing the devastation the Ayons had caused. The streets were soaked with blood. Dead soldiers were strewn everywhere and, between them, Angora spotted the crumpled forms of civilians.
A hot streak of white light came careening in their direction and, with a quick command from Angora, the eagle rose once more to take refuge on a nearby rooftop. Another burst of light hurtled down the street but, this time, Angora caught the momentary flash of Kayte’s face in the darkness.
“Kayte!” she cried, pressing herself protectively against the wall of a building. “Kayte, stop!”
There was a moment of tense silence and waiting. Angora could hear her heart beating loudly in her ears. The last thing she wanted was for Kayte to mistake her for Vrór.
“Kayte!” she cried again.
“A-Angora? What in the world are you doing here?” the sorceress asked, emerging from the gloom.
“The castle is under siege.”
“Lhunannon and the others are still here somewhere. I have to find them before they have the chance to murder more people. Damn, I saw one of them only a moment ago!”
Kayte hurried back the way she had come. Angora did not know what else to do but follow her. Kayte reached a junction where the dust and smoke were not so dense and spotted a group of three approaching soldiers. Without warning, she darted into the street, taking the Ayons by surprise, and sent crimson flames hurtling into their faces. Their screams lasted only a few seconds before their lifeless, smoking bodies fell to the ground.
Angora stared at them in horror but Kayte had already moved on. Angora hurried after the sorceress, her fists clenched, and glanced at the sky. Her eagle was following them, hopping from rooftop to rooftop, keeping them in sight. They followed the road down into the lower city.
“Where are you going?” Angora cried, but her words were drowned by a sudden flash and rumble further down the hill.
The two of them skidded to a halt and Angora’s grip on her staff tightened. In the wake of the explosion, the surrounding streets seemed eerily still.
“What was tha
t?”
Kayte was silent for a moment before sniffing the air. Angora also took in a few deep breaths but could smell nothing but smoke. Kayte, though, appeared troubled.
“It’s not Varren.”
She continued down the cobbled street and Angora followed only a few steps behind. Another sudden explosion shattered the glass in the windows either side of the street and shards fell all around them as they ran. The air was growing hotter and Angora could now smell the scent of magic and the burning of both wood and flesh. It made her sick. The ground was littered with the bodies of both Ayon and Ronnesian soldiers. Evidently, a great battle had been fought in this street, but there were no signs of survivors. They rounded a corner in the road and found themselves at a major lower city intersection. Kayte did not hesitate, taking the road to the Gardens District.
“It might be Lhunannon and Tarvenna!” Kayte yelled over her shoulder. “Prepare yourself to summon as many creatures as you can. Perhaps you can create a diversion for me. I’ll attack the moment their attention is distracted from any civilians who might be there!”
“Right!”
As they approached the high-walled Gardens District, white light illuminated the autumn leaves of the oak trees that towered above the walls. Kayte slowed and turned to Angora, who nodded. The air here was so thick with smoke that the entrance to the gardens was veiled. She was still uncertain of what to expect but she commenced a complex dance, twirling the staff around her and stretching out her arms. With each summoning, she stopped just before the moment of completion and began another, preparing herself as well as she could for whatever fight lay ahead. High above the dark shape of her haladrai circled in the air and she was momentarily reassured. Then, with a final glance back at Kayte, Angora walked forward. She became immediately aware of the grim situation the moment she passed through the high, ivy-covered arch that welcomed visitors into the district. Bodies were strewn about the carefully pruned garden beds, on the clipped lawns and across the footpaths. Each was an unarmed civilian, but what distressed Angora was that she recognized some of their faces. These were servants from the castle of Te’Roek. How they had managed to get from the castle to the gardens puzzled her.