In his enthusiasm, Elias had failed to look for any green tokens on the soldiers they killed. Checking them over quickly, he was relieved to find nothing but the dark gray armor of the soldiers. He turned to the stairs and pointed towards the gate.
“We've got to get the front gates open before they rally! Quickly, down into the city!”
He jogged down the stairs, taking them two or three at a time, barely keeping his balance. As soon as his boots were on the ground, he broke into an all-out run along the wall. The buildings crowded the wall, but there was enough room for a cart to pass between them and the fortifications.
As he neared the end of a large storage building, a large, muscular soldier jumped in front of him, shouting and brandishing an axe.
Elias didn't even stop running. He bowled into the man, knocking him over. However, the soldier managed to grapple with him, taking Elias down as well. He fell hard, dropping his sword and scraping his face against the ground as they skidded on the cobblestone from the force of Elias's impact. He scrambled to his feet, and turned back to the dazed man, who was rolling to his feet as well. He kicked the soldier in the face as hard as he could, pain lancing up through his ankle; it was the same one he had injured in the fight with the dragons.
Gritting his teeth, he pushed through the pain, and fell upon the soldier, who lay on his back, clutching his shattered nose. He wrapped his hands around the man's neck, and squeezed with every fiber of strength he could muster. He had a flash of wrapping his hand around the neck of a pirate in the hold of Delain's ship, when he broke free from his chains as an oarslave. Red tinged his vision as he growled, glaring into the eyes of the man he was strangling.
The man's eyes opened wide in fear, just like the pirate before, and he started bludgeoning Elias with his fists. The soldier's blows were more directed and purposeful than the panicked pirate, and several solid punches landed on the side of Elias's skull, making his ears ring. He bore down, feeling the man's windpipe collapse under his onslaught, as the man's blows grew more frantic. Elias's growl turned into a savage roar as the man's neck snapped under his grip, and the soldier's arms fell limp to the sides.
Elias climbed to his feet, his ankle sending waves of pain shooting into his leg. He limped to his sword and picked it up, the sounds of fighting from deeper in the city reaching his keen ears, though they still rang from the blows he had received from the man he had just killed. As quickly as he could, he resumed his breakneck run to the gate.
When he got there, he found most of his warriors huddled in front of it, backed against the solid timbers by ranks of fighting men, holding them at bay while the soldiers regrouped. Three sea elves struggled against the wheel that forced the gates open, and as the timbers groaned, there was a cry from the soldiers.
“Don't let the gate open!”
“Kill them now!”
“Archers! Shoot the ones at the wheel!”
One of the sea elf warriors fell, an arrow sinking into his back, between his shoulder blades as Elias came in along the wall. A few soldiers stood in his path, and he cut them down like so much grass, his powerful, adrenaline-fueled muscles sending his blade through their armor as if it wasn't there. The soldiers to his left leapt back, exclaiming in surprise as Elias bulled through them. He made it to his warriors, dropped his sword, and gripped the wheel in both hands. Bracing himself on his good ankle, he threw his strength into the task.
With a loud protest, the gates swung open further, but not far enough yet. He could hear more soldiers arriving, shouting as they grew closer. Tucking his chin down, and redoubled his effort, the wheel turning slowly under his powerful arms. An arrow streaked past him, embedding itself into the ancient, hard oak of the wheel next to his hand.
As the gates creaked open, a dwarven axeman charged through the gap, shouting some unintelligible battle cry as he held his axe high over his head, diving into the throng of human soldiers. He was followed by another and another as the gates creaked open. His warriors, elves and dwarves alike, surged through, pouring into the city. Once the gates were half open, he turned to look. The reinforcements for the Valtheim soldiers were upon them, and there weren't enough of his warriors inside the city walls to hold them off. They would have to retreat if they would have any hope of surviving this battle.
The reinforcements tore into the back ranks of the castle soldiers, crashing into them with sword, axe, and mace. Elias caught a flash of green cloth amongst the newcomers, and realized they were Brandt's men. Now, caught between Elias's warriors and the men loyal to Brandt, the rival soldiers were outnumbered, outmatched, and surrounded. Some men threw down their weapons, but they were cut down where they stood. No prisoners were to be taken, and no quarter was to be given.
Elias leaned back against the wheel as his warriors poured into the city, joining with Brandt's forces. His ankle throbbed, and though he tried to stand on it, it threatened to give out, and he caught himself on the wheel. He leaned down and picked up his sword, resolving to defend the gate control, if he couldn't join his warriors in the charge.
He looked down, and saw that Jenna was next to him. She was splashed with blood, and held the sword she had taken from the captain of the ship he had freed her from so long ago. It had once been his sword, stolen from him when he was captured outside of Jetty so long ago. The blade was stained red, and dripping blood from a fresh kill.
“Elias, are you hurt?”
Elias gripped the handle of his sword. “I can still guard the gate.”
Jenna swore. “You damned stubborn mule! I didn't ask what you could do, I asked if you were hurt!”
Elias hesitated, then said, “It's my ankle. I kicked a man in the head. I think I may have broken it.”
Jenna turned, keeping an eye on the battle as it raged further into the city. “Can you walk?”
Elias tested his weight on his ankle again, grimacing from the pain. “No,” he grudgingly admitted.
Without hesitation, Jenna grabbed the arm of a passing sea elf. “You, stay here with Elias. Help him guard the gate.” She pointed to a passing dwarf with a bloodied axe. “You as well! Stay here with Elias. Let nobody touch that wheel until we take this city.”
Elias lowered his sword. “What are you going to do?”
Jenna turned back to the fray, calling to Elias. “I'm going to finish this battle.”
He watched her go, moving through the fray like a dancer, cutting down a soldier that stepped in front of her, opening his stomach to the air after a brief exchange of blows. Before long, she was gone.
The alarm bells let out a final toll, then ceased their noise. They had taken the bell towers. The sound of combat grew distant, but Elias knew in his heart, they had won. He leaned back against the wheel again, the dwarf and sea elf at his side standing ready. All around him, the ground was littered with dead and dying warriors; sea elves, dwarves, and men, but more men than any other.
Their forces had suffered losses, but their enemy had suffered more.
~ ~ ~
Elias sat in Brandt's chamber, his right foot resting on a pillow atop a short stool. It had swollen to twice its usual size and was black and blue from his toes to above his ankle. Geoff was looking it over, gently turning it this way and that while Elias gritted his teeth and did his best not to show how badly it hurt.
Geoff sighed. “Well, it's definitely broken. It's not the worst I've ever seen, but it's definitely not good. Walking on it is right out, and riding will be painful as well. I'll need to put it in a splint.”
Elias caught his breath as Geoff set his ankle back on the pillow. “Well. That's no good.”
Jenna sat to the side, a goblet of wine in her hand. “How long do you think he'll be off of his feet?”
Geoff shrugged. “Most of the time, it takes at least a month and a half for something like this to heal. Sometimes longer, but we've seen Redwood here do some amazing things.”
Jonas chuckled. “When the gods get involved, is it still Redwood
doing it?”
Elias shook his head. “No gods. Their price is far too high.”
Martin took a bite out of a slab of pork. “I dunno. They tend to get shit done, when they want something.”
Brandt sat off to the side, in a high backed, ornately carved chair with a red velvet cushioned seat and armrest. He was still in his armor, a squire working on the strapping on his left arm. In his right hand was a horn filled with mead, from which he took a long drink.
“I've been itching to do that for over a year,” he said, sighing.
Jenna looked over at him, arching an eyebrow. “Oh? Then why didn't you?”
Brandt settled his eyes on her. “Too much danger to my people. The citizens would have suffered more from the battle than my enemies. If I had turned my soldiers against the invaders, then that news would have gone to the other lords, and Valtheim would have been destroyed.” He gestured towards the window that overlooked the city. “I haven't heard reports of a single citizen of Valtheim who was wounded. Now, that may change but...”
He took a long drink from the horn before setting it on a carved wooden stand that looked like a bear. “None of our women were raped. None of our buildings were burned. None of our merchants were sacked. Your soldiers are very well behaved, Elias.”
Jenna frowned. “We were attacking the soldiers that occupied Valtheim, not Valtheim itself. Would your men have been as 'well behaved,' Lord Brandt, if they were sacking a town?”
Brandt paused, studying Jenna. “My men are soldiers, and to the victors go the spoils. We men of the north have been raiders for the vast majority of our history. Traditionally, that means what wealth they can take, whether that be in gold, goats, or women, they take. When my father ruled, it was made plain that treating people as spoils was... frowned upon. But, in war, there are casualties.”
Jenna's frown deepened. “Speaking for the casualties, I am certain your subjects would appreciate a little bit of enforced civility.”
Brandt nodded, lifting his horn again, adjusting his position as his squire removed his gauntlet and vambrace. “As you can see, that is no longer as rampant an issue. However, you have my word, Lady Jenna, that my men will have orders to only take spoils from the fallen enemy. They will leave the citizenry in peace.”
Jenna nodded, and sat back. “I certainly hope so.”
Elias sighed, and settled back. “Six weeks. In less than one week, we can expect to see armies from Adalhard and Gerulf riding in from the west and north. Carloman is farther out, but he may not be far behind. If Carloman's men ride, there's no hope of your men being amongst them, so however many he sends, that's how many we will be facing.”
Brandt nodded. “That is the long and short of it. I sent riders, just as you asked me to, with written requests to each of the three lords to send reinforcements, lest Valtheim fall under the sword of Lonwick.” He sat forward as his squire removed his left pauldron and rerebrace. “They were also instructed to discretely inform my men that they should send their families away, if they had them, and to volunteer to take back Valtheim, should we appear to fall.” He drank again from his mead horn. “Here's hoping that they got the word out swiftly enough.”
Jonas lifted a slab of pork from the wooden platter. “Now. What of the queen? We were supposed to go north and get her. How are we going to do that?”
Elias drummed his fingers on the table. “We could send a small party north, to bring her back. As we saw, the elves of Greenreef can go unseen when they wish.”
Brandt nodded. “Your kind is renowned for being light footed. Except for you. You walk like a team of oxen hauling a cart of stones, you pointy-eared behemoth.”
Elias smirked. “Quieter than you, round-ear. I can be quiet, when I wish.”
Brandt nodded, a serious look on his face. “Hmm. Wish harder next time.”
Martin snorted. “He eats like a team of oxen, too. Half the provisions we bring with us are for him.”
Elias scowled. “Not half.”
Jonas cackled, slapping his knee. “Not far from it! I'm sure those straps of muscle you carry around under your skin don't come cheap.”
Even Jenna smirked, and Elias crossed his arms over his chest. “I should break my other foot on you, old man. If only I could walk.”
Jonas grinned. “Well, then I'd better get my digs in while you can't.”
“I can offer a solution to your problem with the queen.”
Everyone in the room turned to face the new voice. It was the figure Elias had seen a week before, sitting in the great hall. The black robed figure stood in front of the door that led out of Brandt's chambers, obscured still by shadow. Its voice was light, feminine, and soft, but audible nonetheless. The figure stepped forward, and drew back its hood. “It would require, however, that you do exactly what I tell you.”
The figure was, indeed, a woman, but not a human woman. Her skin was fair, almost to the point of being as white as snow, while her hair was jet black and pulled into a tight braid behind her pointed elven ears. Her features were fine, with high cheekbones and large eyes, and in the glow of the lantern, Elias could almost swear they were purple, with a light of their own.
Her lips were impossibly red, under her finely shaped nose, with thin, arched eyebrows, the same jet black of her hair. The rest of her figure was obscured by her cloak and mantle, but again, it was quite clear she was very slight of build. While he was unable to get a good sense of her, only being able to see her face, Elias figured her to be young for an elf, perhaps his age or younger.
Jonas, Jenna, and Martin leapt to their feet, hands moving to their weapons. Jenna half drew her sword. “Who are you? How long have you been standing there?”
Brandt stood, brushing away the startled squire. “Now, calm yourselves. Put those weapons away. She is here because I allow her to be here. She is not your enemy.”
Slowly, cautiously, the three sat back down, Jenna pushing her sword back into its sheath. Brandt gestured to the elf woman. “Go on, introduce yourself.”
The elf stepped forward. “I come here from farther north even than the Northlands. I am a student of someone you may or may not have heard of; his name is unimportant. Suffice it to say, I am a mage.”
Jenna set her hands on her hips. “A mage,” she repeated.
The elf nodded. “Yes. A mage.”
Geoff spoke up. “From the far north? Are you a member of the Council?”
She smiled, looking over to Geoff. “No, I am not a member of what you call the council. Not precisely, at least. I am, as I said, a student. My master belongs to an order that gives itself no name, but has many amongst those of the south. The Council is one of them.”
Elias sat forward. “What is your name?”
The elf maiden hesitated for a moment, then said, “You may call me Quartz. That is a name I will answer to.”
Jenna frowned. “A name you will answer to, but not your name.”
Quartz sighed. “You are correct. I would prefer not to give my proper name at this time. For all intents and purposes, Quartz is as much my name as my given name is.” She clasped her hands in front of herself. “As I said, I have a solution to the problem facing Queen Eira.”
There was silence in the room. Brandt glanced back and forth between Elias and his companions, and the elf maiden Quartz. “Well, I, for one, am interested in hearing it. I can vouch for her; she has not shown herself to be untrustworthy, and has guided me through much of the process of protecting my people in these times. I think you should hear her out.” He beckoned to the squire, who moved to start taking off Brandt's right vambrace and gauntlet.
Elias gestured to Quartz. “By all means. If Brandt trusts you enough, then I am willing to hear what you have to say.”
She took a seat near Elias's raised foot. “We can get into Carloman's fortress, but you will need my help. If you send your sea elf warriors, as skilled as they are, they will perish, and the queen's life will be in danger. Carloman has the aid of anoth
er mage. Not one of the council, as far as I can tell, but a practitioner of magic nonetheless.”
Elias frowned. “How would you get us into the fortress? And why would you help us?”
Quartz stepped over to the table where they were all seated. “The how would be very technical, and frankly irrelevant. Suffice it to say, magic would be involved, as well as a knowledge of the interior layout of the castle. As for why, well, my master has a vested interest in seeing this matter resolved, so he sent me to see to those interests.”
Jenna sat to the side, scowling. “Why not directly? Why send an amateur to do something this important?”
For a moment, Elias saw the glimmer of irritation on Quartz's face. “I assure you, my lady Jenna, I may be an apprentice, but I am not an amateur. I am certain that in time, my assistance will prove this to you, but I must ask that you trust me for the moment.” A slight smirk ghosted the corner of her lips. “Displays of power for the sake of validation are... unseemly, wouldn't you agree?”
Jenna's scowl faded as she considered Quartz's words. “Yes. Yes, I would agree. But trust will have to wait, nonetheless.”
Quartz smiled then, and Elias was struck by her beauty. Immediately, a wave of guilt washed over him, and he was ashamed of himself. His love was barely more than a season gone, and here he was being charmed by a pretty elven mage. He shook it off, as Quartz was speaking to him as she drew off her gloves.
“May I touch your wound, Elias?” she asked, her hands above his ankle.
Elias nodded, not wanting to speak.
She rested her slender fingers on his bruised skin, and he forced himself not to flinch, though it hurt. Geoff watched her attentively.
“It's the bones around his ankle,” the young surgeon said, watching Quartz.
She ran her fingertips over his foot, from his shin down to the top of his foot. He felt a warmth spread through his wounded ankle as she did so, seeming to momentarily dull the pain.
“There are also fractures in the bones of his foot, here and here,” she said, gently touching his foot behind his smallest two toes.
Thunderbolt (Dynasty of Storms Book 2) Page 14