Waking Olympus (The Singers of the Dark Book 1)

by Peter Yard

  They set up the ten small trebuchets and the troops 'dug-in' as they say. There were also archers, using bows rather than crossbows, they could use either but here bows would also be needed. He had to scour for archers, it was a dying art since the development of the crossbow. There was a lot of skill in using a bow, not much with a crossbow; just pull on the mechanism, lock, load, fire. He saw skilled archers firing at amazing speed, holding several arrows in one hand while firing, it was incredible to watch them training, but such skill was hard to find these days and harder to learn.

  They had been waiting for two days now. It was about 8 am in the morning on a beautifully sunny but rapidly warming day. The wind from the east had come up on cue.

  Mikel considered the situation. The team had already dismantled the bridge and lain sharpened stakes under the crossing either side. The marshes were the next best crossing point but only one small part of it was practicable; this place was shallow though the enemy would have to wade through a wide area of reeds. Because of the extent and cover they would make a great place for a large force to cross undetected, he hoped that was what the enemy assumed. They were likely confident, they would not have heard yet about the defeat of Pareth so would be expecting a band of traders and a small force from Sanfran. Dismantling the bridge they might even regard as a childish attempt to stop them rather than part of a bigger plan.

  Lookouts on poles could now see movement in the reeds. The enemy foot soldiers were making their way through the marsh. They would likely spot the masts at any moment. Mikel waved the observers down and had the makeshift masts quickly lowered. But now he was blind. The contingent was hushed, waiting, lying low beneath dirt mounds. All commands by hand signals. He talked to the observers about what they saw, the spread of the enemy, their rate of progress. No cavalry apparently. The enemy must be sending their foot soldiers to take this side so the cavalry could advance in safety.

  They should have appeared at the edge where the reeds ended. But there was no sign, which suggested that they were likely marshaling just out of sight, readying for a mass attack. The enemy must know they were here, well they were so close they could probably see through the reeds. It was time. Mikel passed the order along. The trebuchets were ready. The archers were ready. The crossbowmen were ready. Only the sound of birds calling and the rustling of the reeds in the wind could be heard. He silently gave the first order: he raised a red cloth, showing it left and right to the teams. Then dropped it. The bowmen ignited their fire arrows from braziers, raised them, and fired into the thickening part of the reed bed. The fire quickly caught, flaming up and spreading with the hot easterly wind, more reeds exploded as a tongue of fire leaped up several times the height of a man over a distance of hundreds of meters; the wind propelling it towards the enemy. He gave the next command; the trebuchets ignited their load of hay soaked with oil, but their targets were not near, they were aimed at a line about two thirds the distance across the marsh. The trebuchets launched, the trail of smoke and flame disappearing over the flaming reeds; they couldn't see the results.

  Mikel knew the enemy would soon discover they were trapped on either side. The water would slow the enemy too much to flank his people or to get out of the flames, their only chance was to duck down if lucky, or just to risk it all on a headlong attack ignoring the burns. Not everywhere burns at the same intensity, as Mikel well knew from playing and experimenting with fire. Fire is complex, almost capricious, slight breezes or differences in fuel can have huge effects.

  A growing chorus of screams rose from the marshland.

  He whispered to himself, “Respect for Life.”

  Suddenly, from out of the reeds came a scream and a mass of warriors, all in brown smoldering armor, wearing the blackened remains of a blue sash and insignia, rushing, some still burning. They were met with volley after volley of crossbow bolts. Michael looked left and right and saw a mass of fallen men. Here and there it came to swords but mostly the advance faltered. The attackers stopped, dropped their weapons and knelt, hands in the air.

  Mikel cried, "halt!"

  It was over. Suddenly he heard a woosh, a sharp slice of pain, on his left neck, the assailant was hit with a dozen bolts.

  "I said halt."

  He didn't want this to trigger a slaughter. Someone was at his side tending to his wound. Applying pressure, he looked down and saw blood everywhere.

  "No. Not now." He let them lay him flat and tend to him while he wondered if this had upset everything. He didn't even consider that it might be a mortal wound.

  He woke up. Already night. He started to get up — the left side of his neck sent a massive stab of blinding pain through him. He inadvertently screamed. A young Trader woman appeared, slim, brown hair in the candle light. He had trouble focusing on her words. "Master, do you need anything? Your injury will take time to heal. You must stay in bed. I have put a poultice on it that will ease the inflammation and prevent infection."

  "Where is everyone?" He moved only slightly but the action was rewarded by more sudden pain, it took him by surprise, the scream was out of his mouth before he could even think of being stoic.

  "I also have a tonic that will kill the pain. But you must lie down first."

  "I haven't got time for this. I need to be traveling north."

  She gently pushed him back onto the bed, laying him down in such a way that there were no more lightning bolts of pain in his head.

  "You won't be doing anything if you die. Besides it is night time, you would not be going anywhere now."

  He once hated irrefutable logic that was not his, but the world is full of irrefutable logic that challenges our wishes. He'd learned to live with it.

  "Of course. See how things are in the morning."

  Next morning he woke, rigid, afraid to move. After a few minutes of an unconvincing internal pep talk he got the courage to get up, waiting for the inevitable stabs of pain. Eventually, he found himself standing, he congratulated himself, even as he panted from the effort. He saw some other injured soldiers getting about, which made him feel like a weakling, they weren't complaining, he tried to push the pain away, ignore it, he did that as a child but he no longer knew that trick. He must get going and against his medic’s insistent and logical argument he planned to return to Sanfran to pick up his team; instead he found they had come to meet him. So, if he was going anywhere it would be north. No smooth, well worn roads in that direction, only unsteady ground full of random jerks up, down, sideways.

  He was not feeling up to this. He ached; the horse ride was an ordeal. The injury was really almost a graze but had obviously damaged some muscles. Before he left he attended a briefing from the scouts who had been following the Lindin forces. Most of the attackers had panicked and there had been a rout. They were on their way back to Lindin to regroup. Mikel wondered how well the regrouping would go when they found out about Pareth. They might bide their time until the fall of Tanten was completed. The Bethor army plus Lindin would make the taking of Sanfran a non-event.

  He was insistent about starting as soon as possible. He had that false sense of good health that comes when medicine starts to work but the body is not yet healed.

  Before he left he put the Center forces under the command of Center Lieutenant, Ahmet Lusteek, a very capable officer, he also dashed off a letter and sealed it, to be delivered to Captain Soren confirming his decision and commending the man. Now he could go.

  twenty

  Besieged

  Even before she reached the city Tei knew that Tanten was indeed mobilizing. The journey to the turn-point was eerily devoid of other caravans. In recent years the traffic to and from the Eastern Caravanserai was so great that there were fears the path would be obvious to any attacker. Often one would see another caravan in the distance while coming from Tanten, but not now. They had made the turn as usual, traveling at night. They should normally be able to see a slight flicker in the distance of the beacon fires on Castle. The fires were nestled within
the walls so were only visible in a narrow arc. There should have been that familiar flicker but there was nothing. The city of Tanten was trying to hide. It wouldn’t work this time, however. The enemy knew exactly where Tanten was, they also knew an alternative way that didn’t require them to cross the desert, and finally the last straw was that the enemy had the largest army the Traders had ever recorded and it was professionally trained.

  She wished Mikel was here to bounce ideas off. And fears. She needed his silly exuberance and optimism to help her think straight. But she was a Trader Ambassador, she did what was necessary. She would do her duty. The odds against them were irrelevant. She thought she would have to say that to herself every morning at breakfast. She might even start to believe it. Grim determination would get her through but some optimism might open her to new ideas.

  As they entered Tanten, they passed a series of defensive earthworks, placed around the strongholds and along the Snake. Wooden spikes poking out of the ground, some large ones meant for wagons and siege engines, others small, fire-blackened and barely visible. From the smell she could tell they were covered with excrement and worse. The healers of Tanten would have been turning their skills towards Death instead of Life in recent days producing ingenious poisons. She tried to think of the strategy that would place these defenses here, was this the right position for them? It wasn’t the time to draw conclusions. She would first talk to Master Levin and then perhaps examine the northern defenses, those were her immediate concern.

  She decided to head straight to the Keep. She let Paul, a young brash boy new to the caravan, take her horse to the stables while she marched single minded towards the Keep door. Into her view came Maria, the Librarian, dressed in her outlandish ancient clothing.

  “Mistress Tei? I wonder if I could have a word with you?”

  Tei stopped, took a deep breath. “No need to call me ‘Mistress’, Maria. You know I don’t like it. Well, what is it?”

  Maria, looked uncertain like a field mouse caught in an open area waiting for a hawk to swoop, she clearly didn’t get out much.

  “Yes, M — I mean Tei.” She said it like it was a foreign word that defied translation into her worldview.

  “Tei. I have been scouring the Records looking for various devices we could use in the defense. Some of them are fairly obvious. But I came across a very interesting one. It is for a weapon that is a gas.”

  Tei was interested, she couldn’t imagine what such a thing would be like. Maria continued.

  “The gas and its production is detailed enough for us to reproduce. But it is so dangerous we would have to be careful. We might have enough time to make a useful amount. It is called Sarin, a type of gas called a Nerve Gas. We can manufacture it into glass vessels and project them over the walls.”

  Tei was curious now. “How does it work?”

  Maria looked grim, conflicted, and anxious.

  “It is a forbidden weapon. The Ancients said that even if a tiny droplet landed on your skin you would die in agony. It paralyses the muscles in your body, including your lungs. They considered its use a crime.”

  “Do it.”

  “I beg your pardon, Mistress?”

  “I said, see if you can manufacture it. Somewhere downwind of the Strongholds. Isolated. A limited batch.”

  She side-stepped Maria and continued. Why did she agree to it? Even the Ancients considered it a crime. But in her mind all she could see, and all she had been seeing behind her thoughts, half-glimpsed, fully denied, were visions of the Strongholds of Tanten in flames. To prevent that she would do anything. She took a deep breath, turned towards the dwindling back of Maria’s t-shirt.

  “Maria!” She yelled.

  Maria turned, putting more weight on one leg, as if balancing or waiting.

  “Maria. Cancel that, we’ll find another way.”

  Maria looked relieved. “Yes, I will. Thank you, Tei.”

  Tei turned and continued on to the Keep talking under her breath barely aware of her own words. “Probably would have only ended up poisoning the workers.”

  For a moment she wondered if the Wizards of Lind were capable of making it. She thought it likely they could do it. Perhaps they already had. Perhaps they had already manufactured a good many things.

  She didn’t have time to say hello to family or pour a libation to the family spirits. They were all very short of time. In the Council Chambers of the Keep only Master Edward and Mistress Moana were present. “Hello. I’ve just returned from Sanfran. It went well. We relieved the City but there are likely other forces moving against it.” Moana was dressed in her usual green and white silk headdress and white robe, framing her aging face with a surprising youthful glow. But her ideas were still rooted in a Tanten that no longer existed, she was of a generation that believed isolation and secrecy was always the right path. It wouldn’t work anymore, but too many in Tanten could not accept that change.

  The Council Chambers had been modified since she last saw them. Where that hideous circle of light had been in the center there was now a large table moved in by Levin, so one of the guards told her. Covering the circular table, which was so big she could have used it as a bed, was a map. She had never seen the map before, and suspected it had been created just for these current circumstances. She hoped the planning for the defense involved more than the table and map, otherwise it would be like rearranging the bridle on a dead horse. She took a closer look at the map; accurate but not ornate, it was functional. Good. There were various shaped tokens on the map, some of them in the shape of earthworks, some as a soldier figurine or a horse, and crossbow. She understood what it meant. Someone actually seemed to know what they were doing.

  “Who planned this?” A voice from the other side of the room answered, Levin. “I did. What do you think? No one will give me an honest answer here.”

  “Looks good. So you are planning for the possibility of them getting through the pass?”

  “A defense that is hard on the outside and nonexistent on the inside is pure folly. Even the Castle has a Keep. There is only so much we can do in the Pass. It restricts both sides but our supply lines are short and theirs do not exist. We can wear them down. We understand the area, they don’t.”

  She nodded. “What have you been doing on this side of the Pass?”

  “The Tanuuten meanders this side of the Pass with the northern trail entering the Pass on the western side of the river. That means we can concentrate our supply and reinforcements on the western side just at the entrance to the Pass. We can then quickly relieve our forces and resupply at the same time. We can also set up fletching workshops and siege engine facilities there so that we can bombard the entrance if needed. The river is too wild to cross in the Pass.” He seemed to be talking to himself so Tei left him there. She should check to see if reality matched the plan.

  She took a fresh horse from the stable and rode it out, up the Snake and north, past houses and villas, then passing on the western side of Aqua, the small but fiercely defended central Stronghold. Passed between the granite walls of Shwu on the west and the river on the east. The river now a sluggish stream gaining strength as she went upstream, passing farms and orchards scattered between the strongholds. The road went northwest to bypass the meanders. To the left she could see the forests, managed for its timber. Some parts kept as wild as feasible.

  Up ahead in the distance the road led to a makeshift town of sorts. Made of tents, wagons, rough huts. The sound starting to reach her. Shouting, hammering, the clash and scrape of metal on metal, the neighing of horses. Above them flew various Trader family banners. The mountains ever present now loomed above, not as high as they seemed but high enough.

  Ayo Plessi, an old friend, seemed to be in charge. “Hey, Ayo! How are things going?”

  Ayo was a charismatic woman. No longer as young, by the harsh standards that Arva imposed, yet still vibrant and hypnotic with dark skin and gray eyes that made her think of Mikel.

  She dismou
nted walked to Ayo and gave her a hug.

  “Tei, old friend. I heard those idiots went and made you Head Councillor. What is the world coming to?” That infectious perfect smile. ”What do you think of my little kingdom? I’m thinking of seceding and mandating month long parties.”

  “Just checking that the old armchair generals are not hallucinating their strategy. What do you think? Is there anything more we could do?” She said.

  Ayo shrugged, looked to the side. An old habit of hers which Tei knew meant 'your guess is as good as mine'. "Levin didn’t come up with this plan all by himself. We all contributed. It is sound, we are organized, we have been running drills. I pray to God they aren’t smarter than we think. But the preparations have really only begun.”

  They walked silently amongst the activity towards the northern gate of the loose compound. Occasionally, men and women would raise their right arms at the elbow parallel to their bodies, palm open facing her. The closest thing the Traders had to a salute, though usually used to indicate respect regardless of rank. Ayo certainly deserved the respect of her people; she had always been both liked and respected. It wasn’t until they were almost at the gate that it dawned on Tei that the salutes were directed towards her and not Ayo.

  Standing upon the rampart of the northern gate of the compound she took in a beautiful sight. Even though the mountains were not very tall nevertheless some snow managed to dust their tops, and the slopes descended first as grey banded rock dropping to a greening, flattening arc in the narrow valley before them. The dull indefinite roar of the river always present. Mist slowly rising hid the other end of this section of the valley. In the near distance she could see the dangerous white water of the rapidly flowing river: abundant meltwater at this time of the year.