Exiles of Forlorn

by Sean T. Poindexter

We’d done good work. If that pot of oil had reached the gate, they’d have set it ablaze, and it would have burned through. We could put out a few scattered fires fueled by roof thatches, but an oil accelerated blaze would have been well beyond our ability to control. A quick look at the others told me they understood how important what we had done was.

  And yet we were far from finished. I doubted that would be the last surprise Burlone and Kane had for us. At least we wouldn’t have to worry about Noosh when the Scumdogs breeched the wall. Even if he somehow managed to survive his burns, he would be out of the fight. It was a costly victory, but a necessary one.

  I ran to the ladder and climbed up the wall, ready to face whatever came next.

  “They’re withdrawing,” said Arn when I reached the top.

  I wiped sweat from my brow and looked out across the field. They moved as one below the shell of shields until they were out of range of our arrows and onagers. We could have used the espringals, had they any ammunition left. “Well,” I said, looking at Arn. “I certainly wasn’t expecting that.”

  32.

  “What the Daevas are they waiting for?” asked Arn. I shrugged. Whatever they were doing, they’d taken most of the day to do it. That had given us time to put out the fires and tend to our wounded, but left us with the tension of uncertainty.

  We got our answer late that afternoon.

  “Impossible,” I muttered. A hulking figure rolled out onto the field, pulled by teams of men holding anchor chains, with a second team behind it pushing as its giant wooden wheels crushed grooves in the earth beneath its passenger’s massive weight. Claster had joined us on the wall a few hours ago. His eyes widened when they hit the monstrosity. “Is that what I think it is?”

  “Depends . . .”

  “On what?”

  “On if you think it’s a trebuchet.”

  Kane had built them a trebuchet.

  “Can that thing bring down the wall?” asked Arn.

  “It can. And it will, as soon as they get it set up.” I looked over my shoulder at the colony.

  “What about ours?” asked Uller. He’d mostly recovered from his ordeal and joined us on the wall shortly after Claster.

  I shook my head. “We’d have to roll the onagers past the gate to even hope of bringing them within range.” There was little chance of that happening, as the Scumdog line had advanced again beneath their shell of shields. Anyone we sent outside the wall would get torn to pieces by arrows.

  “Why didn’t I see this before?”

  “Because they didn’t have it yet,” I explained. It would have taken them a month to transport that thing down the White Road. Instead, Kane brought the iron and some of the lumber, and they’d been building it far enough behind their lines that we couldn’t see what they were up to. We hadn’t thought to scry on them once they’d arrived. We’d underestimated them again, though I feared this time would be the last.

  I looked at Arn. “They’re going to breech the gate. We have to get you off of here.”

  “I can still be of use on the wall,” he argued, holding up his bow.

  Claster shook his head. “You’ll be far more useful on the ground, sir.”

  Arn was reticent, but agreed. “They’ll target the gate,” I said to Front-Strider when I reached the ladder. “Keep clear of it and you should survive the breech. You’ll have plenty of targets as they pour through, on both sides of the wall.”

  Front-Strider nodded and took my hand. “May the Daevas protect you, Lew.”

  “You too, my friend. You too.”

  I met Claster at the archers. He brought them into tight ranks in the avenue behind the gate. They stood in two lines, twenty across, with the first line taking a knee with Reiwyn at the end. I stopped and put my hand on her shoulder, and she looked up at me with a smile. I had so much I wanted to say, but only seconds to get over the crippling fear of actually saying it to her. It was amusing to me: there was an army of men just beyond that wall who wanted to kill me, and the thing that frightened me the most was telling her how I felt. How . . . whimsical.

  “Here it comes!” shouted Front-Strider. I could hear the wooden groan of the trebuchet as the counterweight dropped and it released its deadly payload. The boulder sailed over the wall. We ducked and covered our heads, as though that would help. The massive stone landed, shaking the ground as it tumbled through the colony, smashing everything in its path.

  Antioc grinned. “I think they missed.”

  I gave him a wry look and turned around in time to see Blackfoot run up to meet me. “Nobody got hurt,” he said between breaths, “But the mess hall is smashed to hell.”

  “Melvon must be quite cross,” I said with a laugh.

  “Unless that’s what they were after all along?” offered Antioc with a laugh of his own. I joined him, unable to control myself as it poured out of me.

  “They must be trying to starve us out!” I almost collapsed on Antioc. Reiwyn, Uller and Blackfoot starting laughing, too.

  “If they’d had our food, they’d know they were doing us a favor!” said Uller, his cheeks rosy and tear streaked.

  “How long before they can fire again?” asked Arn, not quite so bemused.

  I composed myself quickly. We all did. “Not long, now that they’ve tested it, Kane need only roll it back a ways before they can take out the gate.” Front-Strider and the guards on the wall were already firing down on Scumdogs and throwing rocks. As soon as the gate was breeched, they’d come pouring in. I shook my head. “He will not miss again.”

  And he didn’t. The second boulder hit the gate like lightning. White chips of wood and bent iron went flying as it crashed through, exposing the colony to the outside. The boulder bounced and rolled, shaking the earth as it barreled toward the archers. I didn’t have time to realize how foolish I’d been to station them there. Of course the boulder would keep rolling after it took out the gate. How could I have thought otherwise? I’d been vain, and now our archers would pay with their lives as they stood there, dumbfounded . . .

  The boulder stopped in the air, hovering a few strides away from the archers. I looked at it in shock, then followed the sound of chanting to a figure standing on the street behind me next to Uller. It was Yutan! This was the first time I’d seen him. He had long, white hair and a thick beard, with small slits for eyes over yellowish-peach cheeks. In one hand he held a staff, with the other he gestured to the rock and cast toward the breech. The Scumdogs were just starting to pour in when the boulder crushed through them in a wave of red ruin.

  “Daevas!” I shouted, looking at them. “I wish I’d known he could do that before!”

  “I told you he was good,” said Uller.

  “Loose!” cried Claster, and the Reiwyn and her archers let fly with a savage volley. A line of Scumdogs fell, but more came. They loosed another volley of arrows. More fell, but still they came.

  Our men peppered them with rocks and bolts from the wall. Some of the Scumdogs shot back, knocking them off the broken wall with bolts jutting from their chest. I saw Front-Strider reloading his crossbow when he took a hit. Then another. He fell back and disappeared behind the broken crest of the wall. I had no time to worry about him, as the Scumdog line was advancing.

  Yutan uttered more arcane words and dropped a pile of silvery dust to the ground. Then he fell to his knees and plunged one hand into the earth as though it were water, burying himself up to his elbow. The earth rumbled, and a giant hand made of dirt erupted from the ground in front of the Scumdogs. They fell back in surprise as it swung around, grabbing one of them and crushing him like a piece of fruit. Then it slammed down hard, mashing four or more of them under its open palm. When they tried to get around it, Yutan whipped the arm around and smashed a dozen of them against the broken wall.

  More arrows flew, cutting down Scumdogs as they hacked at the giant earthen arm with their swords and axes. Yutan shouted another arcane word and the arm exploded, showering the Scumdogs with rocks and d
irt as the final wave of arrows came in from our archers. After that, they’d be too close to shoot.

  “That’s it,” said Reiwyn, tossing her bow aside. She drew her dagger. The other archers did the same.

  I grabbed her arm. “No! You need to get to a safe place.”

  She fixed me with be deep blue eyes and said, “There is no safe place.”

  I drew Red and stood beside her. If she was going to die, she wasn’t going to die alone. I couldn’t believe how brave I was being. Fear didn’t even seem to enter into my calculation. Looking back on it, I probably should have been afraid, especially since I had every reason to expect what would happen before the day was through.

  The Scumdogs charged. As they closed on us, they passed where the avenues joined from four ways. That was when Horvis let out his cry, “Charge!” and from both sides, our skirmishers charged, crashing into the flanks of the Scumdog’s column like waves against rocks.

  “Charge!” shouted Claster, and we charged, meeting them head on.

  A Scumdog tried to brain me with a club. I jabbed my short sword into his chest and sent him to the ground spitting blood. Reiwyn ducked under an axe swing and moved in close enough to cut the Scumdog’s throat with her dagger. Blackfoot appeared and jumped on the back of one of them, jamming his dagger into the Scumdog’s neck and then flipping away, vanishing into the crowd.

  I heard a familiar battle cry and turned in time to see Antioc smashing bodies left and right with his great big maul. I was almost distracted enough by him for a Scumdog to get me from behind, but I snapped to attention when Reiwyn screamed my name and dodged his overhand axe blow just in time. I riposted with a quick stab under his arm, followed by a slash across the throat.

  Arn was in the fight, dueling with Scumdogs and cutting them down with his cutlass. Sharkhart was close to him, lashing out with his whip, drawing long, bloody streams from anyone he hit. If a Scumdog got too close for his whip, he jammed the tip of his bone-bladed dagger into him and moved on to another target. Uller zapped any Scumdog that got too close to him or his master with a burst of electricity from his fingers, while Yutan blasted Scumdogs back with a burst of light from the end of his staff.

  I saw Efrot go down as Quanglee buried a spiked club in his back. He pulled it out and jumped back into the fray, smashing our men around him. I killed another Scumdog and turned just in time to see Ferun emerge, saber in one hand, dagger in the other. I wasn’t surprised in the least to see he’d survived the onslaught. It was only fitting that we’d face off against him here, in the final stretch of the battle.

  He saw me and laughed. “Hello, wall builder.” Before I could reply, he charged. I brought up my sword, but knew it was pointless. If he wanted me dead, I would be dead. Still, I wasn’t going to run. Not today.

  Antioc crashed into him from the side, using his weight to throw him back. Ferun staggered, but didn’t fall. He turned to face Antioc with a laugh, and brought up his saber. Antioc swung his maul around and went for his head, but Ferun ducked and slashed low. Antioc rolled away, turning what would have been a fatal blow into a shallow cut across his belly. Ferun followed up by punching him in the face with the pommel of his sword.

  Reiwyn and I charged in. I screamed, hoping to break his nerve before we met in melee. It did not appear to work. He turned to face us, parrying my swing with his saber and cutting the side of my face with a lightning quick jab from his dagger. Reiwyn brought her blade up with an underhanded swing, but Ferun stepped out of the way and kicked her in the side as she fell off balance. Antioc came in again, but Ferun moved around his overhand swing and slashed across the back of his leg with his saber. He pushed him away and raised his sword for a kill as Antioc stumbled to the ground.

  Uller moved in and cast a quick burst of lightning from his hand, striking him in the chest, filling the air around Ferun with the smell of burned leather. It stunned him long enough for Blackfoot to appear and jump on his back. “Here’s your dagger back!” he shouted as he buried the blade between Ferun’s shoulders. He grunted in pain and whipped his head back, striking Blackfoot with the back of his skull. The little urchin cried out and fell.

  Ferun turned and staggered toward him, saber up. Reiwyn screamed, “No!” and charged, but Ferun intercepted her with a punch to the face. She cried out and fell, and he turned his attention to her completely. I charged, bringing my sword up, hoping to catch him off guard. Ferun turned suddenly, as though he knew I would be there all along, and held up his saber. I ran into it, piercing my gut and bursting from my back next to my spine with a shower of red. I didn’t feel any pain, just numbness in my legs, causing me to fall to my knees. Ferun laughed and started to pull out his saber. Without thinking about it, I brought my sword up quick and stabbed his wrist. He screamed and released his saber, leaving me there with it run through me in the middle of the battlefield.

  That was all the time Antioc needed. He spun around and threw his maul. It struck Ferun in the chest with a crack, knocking him off his feet. He landed on his back, pushing Blackfoot’s dagger deeper into his body. He rolled onto his side, gasping in pain as Reiwyn picked up her blade and walked over to him. He looked up at her for a second, reaching out feebly to his former lover. She brought the dagger down and dragged it across his throat, opening a stream of red that covered the already bloody earth.

  I fell to my side as she ran to me next. She said something, but I couldn’t understand it. All I knew was that I was going to die, and I was surprisingly fair with that. I’d heard old battlefield stories that when you die, there is no pain. The Daevas take it from you, to spare your passing. I only half hoped that was true, as that would mean Ferun had died without any suffering. I suppose if it meant my passing would be gentle, I would take it.

  They gathered around me, my friends. They spoke, but I could barely understand them. It was a struggle just to keep my eyes open. I heard Antioc say something about bravery, and Blackfoot pleading with me not to die. I didn’t look at them, though. I could only look at her. My river woman, holding my head in her lap as blood pooled around my broken body.

  Somehow, in the distance, I heard Burlone’s titanic voice bellow out the call to retreat. A cheer went up among our men as they pressed the attackers through the breech in the gate. We’d won. I’d done it. We’d done it. My heart swelled in spite of the blood gushing from my wounds as I rested my head against her lap, my face in her hands. She said something to me then, but I only understood one word out of the mash . . .

  Love.

  It was all I wanted.

  I could die at least pretending that she’d told me she loved me. It was enough. If this was to be my death, then so be it. I closed my eyes with a smile and resolved to let the Daevas take me.

  33.

  I think I awoke the first time when they extracted Ferun’s sword. Such a delicate procedure was beyond even Gargath’s skill, so Nol had done it. I hadn’t felt much pain when it went in, but I certainly felt a lot when they took it out. I felt big, strong hands holding me down as I shook, spraying blood around. I looked up just in time to see Antioc holding me down as I slipped away again.

  The next time I awoke was in the night. I was in the infirmary, but it was packed with bodies. I raised my weary eyes in the dim torchlight and found Antioc sitting there, staring at me. He didn’t notice I was awake right away, but when he did he called for help. Nol and Gargath ran around the bunks of the wounded to reach my side, but by then I’d faded out again.

  When I came around again, it was daylight, even though it felt like only moments had passed. There were fewer bodies in the room now. Reiwyn was here, dragging a cold, damp cloth across my brow. “His fever will break, yes?” she asked.

  “We must pray that it does,” I heard Gargath reply.

  “I think he’s awake!” said Blackfoot from somewhere I couldn’t see.

  “Lew?” said Antioc, still by my side.

  I opened my mouth to speak, but only a dry whisper came out. “He�
�ll be thirsty,” said Zin, handing Uller a waterskin. The cork popped from the top and Antioc supported my head while Front-Strider held up my shoulders. Uller poured water down my throat while Hratoe watched silently at the foot of my cot.

  “Thank you,” I whispered before falling back on the bunk and losing consciousness.

  My dreams were dark, fluid things, pushing me through curtains of light and energy. I dreamt of the Daevas, of the sun and the three moons of Eios. I saw the moons of far off lands like Ket and Ortoos, even though I’d never been there and knew them only from my books. I saw my brothers lined up in clouds, from firstson to last: Olune IV, or Ollie as we called him, in his shining armor with a gleaming sword in hand. Next to him, Ferug, the secondson. My place was empty, but beside it stood little Midth, the smartest and kindest of us. He was a child now, but someday he would be a scholar or priest. He was destined for meritorious greatness.

  And then stood my father. Olune Standwell III, Lord of Standwell Keep. He had my eyes, or rather I had his. He looked at me with them, scanning me in disapproval. Even in my dreams he could bring me low. “What have you to say for yourself, Son?” he asked at length.

  “I built a wall,” I offered.

  “And it came down, didn’t it?”

  I shrugged. “I wasn’t expecting them to have an engineer, much less a trebuchet . . .”

  “Excuses! Always excuses.” He pointed at me and shook his head. “You’re as much a disappointment now as you were the day you deserted your post. Do you have any idea the legacy you’re meant to uphold? The history in your name?”

  “Oh, here we go.”

  “The Standwells have protected the crown for over two hundred years. I fought in the Great War along princes, generals and great knights. I brought honor and pride to my family name. What have you brought besides shame and embarrassment?”

  I took a long breath and stared at the clouds around my feet. “I built a wall.”

  “You’ve built nothing. You’ve done nothing. And you have nothing.”