Conrad was ready. He had signaled his small band of horsemen to charge as soon as he heard William’s awful shout. They had only seconds to put some distance between themselves and Kallik’s riders. He had to stop William.
Our horses are fresh. With luck we have a chance to cover more distance than William. Conrad rode straight at his friend. The closer he got, the more unrecognizable William was. His face was dark with smudges of soot and even darker with the fury of a man betrayed. If this doesn’t work, he’ll kill me. Conrad started to swing to the right, his men sweeping around behind him. I have got to flank William. Kallik’s riders were still charging straight ahead about a hundred yards back. William changed course and rode in pursuit.
Now! He’s almost upon us! Conrad checked his mount. From underneath his chest armor he pulled forth the folded Candlewax emblem from the council chamber. The banner, created in the early days of Cyril’s father, King Cedric, was five feet high and eight feet long. Conrad held tight to the top corner of the banner and let it unfurl behind him. The brilliant colors of Candlewax whipped briskly in the air as Conrad held it as high as he could.
The world slowed around him. He heard his men cheering wildly behind him. He felt the sun on his face, warm and soft. He smelled smoke and leather and his own fear. Like a spectator, he observed William as he drew closer, surprise clearly written on his friend’s face.
Then Conrad kicked his horse to a frenzied gallop and swung around William, now pivoting in the middle of the battlefield, his eyes locked on the banner. William’s men spun about in confusion, some of them chasing Conrad and his men and others watching Kallik’s riders bear down on them.
Conrad reined in his horse, facing William, his voice urgent. “For the sake of Candlewax, William, hear me! Believe that we are no traitors. I know what it looks like, but it was Sebastian who betrayed us. We fight for Candlewax and our king. We stand now at your side and will fight Kallik and his men to the death. FOR THE HONOR OF CANDLEWAX!” Conrad’s shout rose over the roar of thundering hooves.
William looked from Conrad to Kallik’s men. His haggard face crumpled in relief and his sword arm sunk to his side. He shook his head and grinned. “I would rather die in battle with you at my side than be eaten by trodliks! Let’s show these usurpers how true men of Candlewax die! FOR KING CYRIL! FOR CANDLEWAX!” William raised his sword toward the enemy riders.
“For the king! For Candlewax!” went up the shout. Five hundred and ten riders, all men of Candlewax, boldly faced Kallik’s twelve thousand. Conrad stuffed the ensign back underneath his chest armor for safekeeping.
And noticed the first trodliks underfoot.
Cyril ran from window to window to better see the battlefield, ignoring the throbbing pain in his back. His face looked as if he had been in a tavern brawl. At least the swelling around his eye had receded enough for him to see properly.
They were in Cedric’s “Hawk’s Nest”—his father’s name for the secret archers’ room built into Candlewax. He and Menard had taken bundles of arrows from the hidden armory, which were piled high on the table behind them. They each had three longbows strung and at the ready and wore full quivers of arrows.
There was no door from the Hawk’s Nest to the main castle. It could only be reached through the passage from the hidden armory. Not even the King’s Guard knew about this cache of weapons. As his father had advised, “Only the captain of the King’s Guard and your counselor should be privy to it.” Now Cyril could appreciate his father’s wisdom. Sebastian had never been told. And the sheer breadth of the castle made it easy for the four archers’ windows to be overlooked from the outside.
Menard and Cyril had watched with dread as William charged toward Conrad. Conrad bolted forward then swung to the side around William. Then Cedric’s banner had unfurled behind him like a glorious waterfall. The Candlewax colors blazed in the sunlight.
“Look, Menard! He’s got our colors! Good thinking, Conrad!” Cyril’s heart soared. His eyes followed William’s and Conrad’s men as they coalesced.
“As soon as the action starts, we aim for Kallik,” growled Menard.
“But the fairrier cat skin... we will never be able to kill him,” protested Cyril.
“Last time I looked, Kallik’s horse was not wearing a fairrier cat skin,” said Menard. “We aim for the horse and put Kallik on foot. It’ll be hard for him to give orders from the ground. Then we kill as many of his men as we can. Try to make a fissure in his forces.”
Cyril nocked an arrow.
“Wait, Cyril. Patience...” The King’s Guard began fighting Kallik’s army. “Now, Cyril! Now!” Menard let an arrow fly. It landed feet from Kallik, unseen. Cyril nocked arrows in quick succession. Three were off before the first one struck Kallik’s horse in the rump. The horse reared, taking Kallik by surprise. He fought to control his mount. With men and horses falling all around him, Kallik snatched at the arrow in his horse, obviously enraged.
“Back, Cyril!” Menard yelled.
Cyril ducked out of sight. Kallik’s yellow eyes searched the castle’s empty windows.
“He probably sees as well as Pokos. It’d be better if he doesn’t realize you’re alive.” Menard continued peering out toward the battlefield. At least he was still unknown to Kallik.
Then Menard tensed. “Now! Again!”
Cyril leapt forward and shot ten more arrows. Kallik’s horse stumbled and fell, pinning Kallik under it. Several soldiers set to work dragging the horse off of him. Menard and Cyril dropped three of them in seconds. Cyril started to aim for the men in front of Kallik, creating a swath of death through the enemy. The men on either side looked behind them for their leader, but couldn’t see him; their confusion was spreading.
It was not enough. Cyril nocked arrows and shot them as fast as he could. He saw that William and Conrad were fighting side by side amongst the Guard as they pushed forward against Kallik’s huge force. The King’s Guard was about to be engulfed.
Clawing and kicking, Kallik managed to extricate himself from the weight of his horse. The fairrier cat cloak was still caught. He yanked it free. On impulse, Cyril took careful aim at Kallik and loosed the arrow. Kallik ducked just in time, the arrow passing harmlessly over him. Cyril tried again, this time aiming for Kallik’s thigh. Kallik rolled away and the arrow missed. With focused fury, Cyril unleashed a torrent of arrows at Kallik. Try dodging these. Kallik twisted and turned effortlessly as the arrows hissed by him.
“It’s the skin, Cyril,” said Menard.
Cyril stopped, dumbfounded. Then he froze. Kallik was looking right at him. He’s seen me. It doesn’t matter now. He let out a breath and stepped fully into view. Kallik continued to stare, his hatred apparent even from a distance. He nodded at Cyril, pulled out both swords, and sprinted for the front, bounding over dead horses and men and darting around anyone in his way.
Kallik reached the Guard swinging two swords at once, decisively cutting down six men with graceful ease. He was now nearly three hundred yards away. We can still reach him from the Hawk’s Nest.
“He’s slaughtering them!” shouted Cyril. He took aim at Kallik’s men and dropped them almost as fast as Kallik took the Guard. Then Cyril’s aim faltered. Kallik had plucked a rider from his horse. Horrified, Cyril watched as he bit down on the soldier’s neck, spraying blood onto everything around him in a gruesome fountain. Kallik seemed to savor the taste before leaping upon the dead man’s horse. He scanned the battlefield, searching for something. He’s looking for Conrad. Cyril took aim at the horse and loosed his arrow.
* * *
From his place on the battlefield, Conrad could see Kallik’s horse falter, then fall. All around him scattered trodliks ate away at the exposed flesh of the dead and wounded. They were starting to thicken. It won’t be long before they come over the hill. His horse had already been bitten.
Conrad blocked a blow from one of Kallik’s men then struck him down. The fighting was claustrophobic. William was at his back, and out of the corner of
his eye he could see King Stephen and Sir Gavin skirmishing with Brine in the middle. Conrad’s legs and arms burned and his breath came in ragged gulps.
Kallik had found yet another horse and was pushing toward them. Conrad watched his approach with sick fascination. Where are these arrows coming from? An arrow struck the horse in the neck. Kallik’s bloody face turned away, back toward the castle. The horse buckled under him as a second arrow found its foreleg. Kallik jumped clear, his howl of rage penetrating the din of battle.
That was some shot! Conrad searched the windows of the castle. He could just barely make out two tiny figures high up in one of the towers. There was no time to be sure, but he didn’t need to see them to know who they were. Kallik’s men were falling under their rain of expertly shot arrows.
“William, that’s Cyril and Menard shooting those arrows! I’m sure of it. They keep killing Kallik’s horse out from under him.”
“If he’s back, does that mean that Catherine is too? What of the fairrier cats?” William puffed out his questions between sword parries with three of Kallik’s men.
Conrad deflected a blow intended for William and drove his blade into the attacker’s gut, wrenching it out as quickly as he could to fend off the next enemy. “They came back without the cats, but then Sebastian sent Catherine to the Gate today at dawn.”
“From the looks of these trodliks, she has failed.” William grunted the words.
Kallik was only fifty yards away. He had given up riding and was making his way toward Conrad and William on foot. So fearsome was his appearance that even Kallik’s own men backed away at his approach. His yellow eyes blazed with bloodlust and the fairrier cat cloak was soiled with the gore of dozens of men. One of the Guard bravely thrust a sword at him as he passed. Kallik’s answering blow spun the man away, unconscious.
The men fighting William and Conrad also caught sight of Kallik, and they turned their horses away in retreat. Kallik seemed to take his time now, having spotted his prey. He moved forward in a half-crouch, prepared with each step to spring in any direction his quarry might take him.
Conrad and William waited. A trodlik ran up William’s horse’s leg, impeded for the time being by the leather leggings. William ignored it, keeping his eyes trained on Kallik. Conrad wanted to look over his shoulder at the crest of the hill behind him, but he, too, kept his eyes on Kallik’s deliberate approach. The sound of swords clashing was slowly being smothered by the sound of the feasting menace bearing down on them.
Kallik smiled. His sharp, curved teeth were orange with the sheen of blood that covered them. He came inexorably closer, his face gruesome.
“You have shown your true colors, Conrad. Fool. I would have made you rich. Now I am just going to make you dead.” He licked his lips. “Couldn’t stomach betrayal? Is that it? Tell me, is that oaf next to you so important?”
“His farts are more important than any words you could ever utter, Kallik.”
William’s gallows laugh was uproarious. “Didn’t know you had such a way with words, Conrad. Remind me to quote you if we live through this.”
Trodliks scurried toward Kallik. He paid them no heed but lifted up his head and roared in fury. Conrad’s skin felt numb as the sound engulfed him. If we get him angry enough, he might make a mistake.
“Did anyone ever tell you that you stink? I have smelled dunghills that are roses compared to you, Kallik. It is a wonder that you have any followers at all. There must be something wrong with their noses.” Conrad held his nose with his free hand.
A trodlik crawled upon Kallik’s bare, paw-like foot. Conrad’s eyes darted to it, forcing Kallik to look down just in time to see the creature bite him. He jumped and shook his foot vigorously, but the trodlik hung on and continued to attack.
“Why, what is this? The almighty Kallik bitten by a lowly trodlik?” taunted William.
Kallik scraped the trodlik away with his other foot and searched the ground. His yellow eyes widened in surprise as another scurried up his pant leg. Kallik yelped in pain as it, too, began to bite.
“They must be really hungry to want to eat your moldy old body. Just imagine when the rest of them come crawling over that rise.” Conrad jerked his head in the direction of the hill behind them. “You can hear them coming, can’t you, Kallik?”
William pointed his sword at Kallik and said, “Conrad, I’ll wager His Ugliness had no idea that the trodliks would find him so appetizing.” Enraged, Kallik drew his dagger and threw it at William. William dodged, but not quickly enough, the blade sinking into his shoulder. He grunted in pain and pulled it out.
Kallik looked over their heads at the hill beyond, his hand raised to shield his eyes from the strong afternoon sun. The sound of clashing swords had ceased. All the men stood still and watched—all except William and Conrad, who didn’t dare look away from Kallik.
“Finish them!” screamed Kallik. Then he turned and fled, jumping and running as fast as he could. Kallik’s soldiers took one look at the thick blanket of trodliks flowing over the crest of the hill and ran after their leader. Why is Kallik taking his men toward Tabrek instead of the castle?
“To the castle!” William shouted at the King’s Guard, echoing Conrad’s thoughts. “Gather the wounded if you can!” He ignored Kallik’s pinprick to his own shoulder. On the ground in front of him was a young man wearing Kallik’s colors. Why he’s just a boy, marveled Conrad. Blood pooled on the ground around the young soldier’s wounded leg and his eyes were glued to the trodliks in mortal fear.
“Up, you! Grab on!” commanded William. With his good arm he hauled the boy into the saddle behind him and kicked his horse into a gallop.
Conrad found one of the King’s Guard trying desperately to limp in the direction of the castle. “Look here!” The man glanced back just in time to grasp Conrad’s outstretched hand.
With Kallik’s horsemen headed one way and the Guard another, the trodliks appeared to be thrown into confusion. Go for Kallik! Please go for Kallik! Conrad’s hopes were dashed as the deadly mass of white spread out to follow both Kallik’s forces and the Guard.
They galloped to the castle, putting as much distance between themselves and the trodliks as they could.
“They are raising the drawbridge!” Conrad screamed. “NO!” Slowly, steadily, the drawbridge was lifting. Kallik planned for this. Now it was two feet up and rising. I can jump it. He urged his horse to run faster, all too aware of the wounded man’s extra weight.
“Go, Conrad. Jump it!” shouted William from behind. Conrad looked at the two riders ahead of him. They hadn’t slowed down. The bridge was three feet up. It was going to be a steep landing. The two riders cleared the moat and landed on the bridge. Here we go!
Conrad gave his horse a final squeeze with his knees and leaned forward as they became airborne. They cleared the end of the bridge by less than an inch. His mount landed hard on the sloping surface, nearly losing its footing and thundering at break-neck speed into the castle yard. They drew to a sliding halt next to the other two riders.
Conrad dismounted with a leap. The wounded man behind him slid off the saddle.
“We’ve got to lower the bridge!” he yelled to the two Guardsmen. They nodded and ran with him to the drawbridge station and gears.
Kallik’s men were cranking away as fast as they could.
Conrad still wore Kallik’s colors. “Who told you to raise the drawbridge?” he shouted in his most belligerent tone to the man above him at the Gate station.
“‘’Twas Lord Sebastian, Captain Conrad.” the man admitted, nonplussed. His buckteeth were made more prominent by his scowl.
“Well, lower it again!” Conrad demanded. The man peered at him suspiciously, his eyes darting to the two members of the King’s Guard at Conrad’s side.
“What are you doing with those two? And who are you to countermand Sebastian’s orders?”
A calm, deadly voice came from behind Conrad. “These men are my men and I am the man who is about
to kill you if you do not lower the bridge.”
Conrad spun around. “Cyril!”
No one moved. Cyril held a crossbow pointed directly at the chest of the man with the buckteeth. Menard stood at Cyril’s back, his sword in one hand, a torch in the other.
“Lower the bridge,” ordered the man, glaring at Cyril. The men manning the gears reversed their movements and slowly the bridge began to creep closer to the ground.
“Faster, I tell you,” commanded Cyril, “or I’ll kill you all and we’ll come up and do it ourselves!” The men put their backs into the work and the gears flowed until the bridge settled into the ground. The King’s Guard and many wounded of both sides quickly ran over the drawbridge and pressed into the castle courtyard.
“Hurry! They’re right behind you!” yelled Conrad. A great swell of trodliks rolled behind the Guard like a wave. The last men crossed over the lip at the far side of the drawbridge.
“Reverse! Pull it up or we all perish!” The men at the gears were tiring. Cyril bounded up the station stairs. He shoved one of them aside and heaved at the turn crank. Conrad could see that the king’s back was bleeding again.
The first trodliks had reached the moat. The drawbridge was almost closed. “You up there! Back up if you value your heads,” Cyril bellowed to the men looking down to the moat from over the ramparts. “Release the oil! Light the moat, Menard!” The bridge clanked shut.
One of the King’s Guard pulled down hard on a lever, sending torrents of Candlewax oil into the moat all along the castle’s outer wall. As soon as it stopped gushing, Menard threw the torch. There was an explosion and flames blasted up the castle wall a hundred and fifty feet in the air. The wall of fire extended the entirety of the moat, reaching to both sides where the castle abutted the natural rock cliffs. The villagers pressed together in the castle yard, as far back as they could squeeze.
The trodliks stopped.
A cheer rose up from the bailey. Cyril gripped the wall, breathing hard. He raised his eyes and fixed them on the man with the buckteeth and greasy hair.
Candlewax Page 36