Then they heard it. From the north wall a trumpet sounded, warning the troops that the elves had arrived. An eerie hush settled over the city.
Lee smiled warmly at Randson, Barty and the others. “Well, this is what we've been waiting for. Let's make the most of it.”
* * * * *
Gewey raised his arm, bringing the army grinding to a halt. The walls of Baltria were every bit as impressive as he had been told, and the approach equally as treacherous. He walked forward for another fifty yards, unconcerned that this now brought him within range of the enemy bows.
Kaylia walked beside him, her mind focused and strong. But the mood inside the city was not as Gewey expected. Normally an elf army would illicit dread and panic, but the Angrääl soldiers seemed relaxed and eager for the battle. And that did concern him.
He’d expected a few arrows to come flying his way, but none did. Instead, he heard a loud creaking and the clank of metal. Moments later, half a dozen white balls flew up from behind the wall, each with a wisp of smoke trailing behind it. Gewey almost laughed. None of these shots were going to hit him; he didn’t even need to use the flow. All of the missiles struck the ground a few yards ahead of them in a rapid succession of deep thuds.
It was then Gewey noticed a small wick protruding from one of the bolts quickly burning shorter. Something wasn’t right. Instinctively, he moved to push Kaylia behind him, but his hand had barely touched her arm when there was a huge flash and a tremendous ball of fire.
Gewey felt as if he’d been rammed by a bull.
And then there was nothing but blackness.
* * * * *
The moment the trumpet sounded, Lee and the others each grabbed two of the catapult bolts and set off speedily to their respective targets.
He arrived at the catapult nearest to the gate just as it was releasing a bolt. Hiding behind a nearby shack, he cursed the fact that he had not got there a few moments sooner.
As soon as the missile had been launched, the operator began rapidly spinning a small crank handle until the launching arm was pulled back in position ready to fire once again. From a metal tube positioned alongside the cradle, another bolt then dropped into place. Lee couldn’t help but admire the skill that had gone into the machine’s construction and design.
A series of thunderous explosions sounded, raising loud cheers from the soldiers.
“What were you thinking about?” shouted a laughing soldier atop the wall. “Did you and your woman think we would allow you to march right up to the gates by yourselves? Look at you now, fool.” He turned to the men on the ground. “If this army is full of idiots like that, it will be a short day, lads.” His mocking words were met by more harsh laughter.
Lee could guess what had just happened and dread gripped his heart. Gewey and Kaylia must have marched ahead of the army in order to break down the gates.
“Too bad we can’t shoot any farther,” said another soldier in a thick northern accent. “If we could, this would be over in time for dinner.”
Using a flint and steel, Lee quickly lit the wick to one of the bolts he was carrying. It sparked to life and a metallic smell filled the air. He waited until the wick had burned down to less than an inch long, then stepped out from behind the shack and heaved the fizzing ball at the men.
Cries of alarm instantly sprang from the soldiers as the weapon landed right amongst them. Panicked and fearful, they jostled amongst themselves in their efforts to scramble away. But it was too late. The bolt exploded, blowing them apart and their catapult to splinters. The remaining bolts beside the weapon were scattered about over a wide area. Several of them were already beginning to smolder, warning Lee that he needed to get away fast.
He had only made it a few yards when he heard the first of the bolts exploding. He grinned with satisfaction. There was no way he would be able to destroy all of the catapults, but he had one more bolt tucked firmly under his arm. And he knew exactly where he was going to put it.
More blasts rocked the city as Randson and his comrades began setting off their own bolts. Now if only Gewey is not dead, we stand a chance, Lee thought grimly. But the soldier’s mocking words were still echoing in his head. He forced them out of his mind, knowing that he mustn’t lose focus.
While winding his way through the streets he passed hundreds of troops racing in the opposite direction toward the north wall. Not that it mattered. Still in the stolen uniform and looking as if he were hurrying to obey an order, none of these gave him as much as a second glance.
Lee’s jaw clenched tight as his target came into view. Three of the faithful were standing in front of their so-called ‘temple’, each one carrying a short sword. He had expected soldiers to be guarding the place, but the mayhem he and the others were causing must have drawn them away. The men left in charge looked nervous. Clearly they were not accustomed to the turmoil of war, and the blades looked awkward in their pale, chubby hands.
Soft, doughy nobles, he thought. So much the better.
The faithful looked up at Lee as he approached with long, deliberate strides.
“It’s about time too,” one of them yelled out. He drew back his hood, revealing pale skin and flat features. His dark brown hair was oiled and pushed back. Without doubt a noble. He glared angrily at Lee. “You can tell your captain that I’ll have him hanged for this. He was told to stay here and....”
The man never got a chance to finish his sentence. In one fluid motion, Lee drew his blade and took the man’s head. The two others froze, staring in horror at the still standing body of their fellow faithful. Before it even hit the ground, Lee’s sword had claimed their heads as well.
At the entrance to the temple he paused just long enough to light the bolt before smashing the thick oak doors open with his boot. Lee could hear a host of people talking and laughing. He gave a sinister laugh of his own before hurling the deadly ball deep within the building.
“With the compliments of Lord Lanson Brimm,” he shouted to those inside.
After waiting just long enough to hear the sounds of laughter abruptly turn to cries of alarm, he turned and ran off in the direction of Lanson’s manor. The explosion, when it came seconds later, filled his heart with a sense of righteous justice.
Upon reaching the house he paused long enough to make sure there were no soldiers about. Happy with the situation, he made his way around to the servants' entrance.
The door was guarded by two of Randson’s friends. They nodded a greeting at Lee and gave him a knowing smile.
“Did everyone make it back?” Lee asked.
“You are the last one we've been waiting for,” replied a tall lad with short cropped blond hair. “Randson and his father are upstairs with Millet and Jansi.”
“And Lord Lanson?”
“He sleeps,” the lad replied solemnly. “Jansi doesn’t think he’ll last until nightfall.”
Lee nodded and went quickly upstairs. Entering the parlor, he saw Millet sitting stone-faced by the fire. He looked up at Lee with obvious relief. The others were talking quietly on the other side of the room.
“It figures that you would be the last to arrive,” scolded Millet.
Lee spread his arms and grinned. “I’m sorry, but I had to leave a message with the faithful before I returned.”
This brought forth smirks and nods of approval from everyone but Millet. Lee sat across from him and snatched up a bottle of wine that was sitting on a small table beside the chair.
“Have you seen Lanson?” he asked.
“About twenty minutes ago,” Millet replied. “I’m afraid our visit has over-exerted him.”
“Nonsense,” said Jansi, crossing the room. “This is the first time my master has smiled in many weeks. Whatever the enemy did to him, it drained his humor and lust for life. It was good to see that return, if even for a moment.”
Hearing this made Lee more determined than ever to get Gewey to his friend’s bedside as soon as possible.
“Is there
more we can do to aid the assault?” asked Millet.
Lee shook his head and took a drink from the bottle. “Not unless we charge the gates ourselves. And I don’t think we’d get very far with that. Right now, all we can do is wait until the city has fallen.”
“The sooner the better,” said Jansi.
* * * * *
Gewey’s vision was blurry at first. It took a moment or two before realizing that he was no longer near the vanguard of the army, and had apparently been carried to the rear. As his eyes cleared further he could see that he was surrounded by dozens of elves, all with looks of deep concern on their faces. On his left knelt Lyrial.
“Kaylia!” he cried out. He could feel her, but knew that she had been injured.
“She is resting,” said Lyrial. “She will be fine. But considering her condition, we thought it best to attend her first.”
Gewey felt a sudden sense of panic. “Our child?”
“Your child is strong,” she replied in a reassuring tone. “Your body took the brunt of the attack and probably saved them both.”
Gewey could hear shouts and orders being given. “What’s happening? How long was I unconscious?”
Lyrial cocked her head. “Not long. Less than an hour. But my people went mad with rage the moment you fell. They have already begun the assault.”
This brought clarity rushing in. He sat up straight, ignoring the throbbing pain in his head. “They must pull back.”
“It’s too late for that,” she responded. “There was a series of explosions just as you were being brought here. Apparently Lee has been busy. Bevaris didn’t think we should wait – not that my kin would have delayed, regardless of his opinion. He ordered trees felled to be used as ladders, guessing that we elves would be excellent climbers. He guessed correctly.”
She handed him a cup of water. “Our bows cleared the ramparts and we were able to scale the wall before the enemy could react. A few of those dreadful weapons came over the top, but nowhere near enough to halt us.”
“Lee must have learned of them and destroyed as many as he could,” mused Gewey.
“It would seem that way,” agreed Lyrial. “Most are now silenced, anyway.”
Gewey put down the cup and struggled to his feet. He reached out to Kaylia. She was resting and relieved to touch his thoughts.
I must end this, he said through their bond.
She did not protest, sending him only waves of love and strength in response.
On approaching the north wall he could see a dozen or more tall trees leaning against it. The elves were scampering up these like squirrels. If not for the occasional body falling after being hit by enemy arrows, it would have been an almost comical sight.
He spotted Bevaris, Tristan, Linis and Dina standing in a group. Linis waved him over.
“You look well considering,” his friend told him. “And Kaylia?”
“She’s fine,” Gewey replied.
Dina sighed with relief. “Maybe next time you’ll be more careful,” she chided.
Gewey met her eyes unblinkingly. “If I could convince Kaylia to stay out of danger, I would.”
“Then perhaps you should both stay clear of the fray,” she shot back. “As you can see, the city will soon be ours.”
“I’ve heard that the elves were unable to take Baltria during the Great War,” Bevaris interjected. “That hardly seems possible from what I am seeing here.”
“Baltria was defended from within by fifty thousand soldiers,” explained Dina. “As well as another fifty thousand outside the walls.”
“And the humans of that era were battle tested,” added Linis. “By the time Baltria was attacked, the war was well into its eighth year. They had learned how to fight us by then.”
Gewey ignored everything but the ongoing battle. “They must be defending the gates with all they can muster.”
“That’s my guess,” agreed Tristan. “They know that if the gates open, all is certainly lost.”
“Then the gates will open,” said Gewey.
“There’s no need,” objected Dina. “The battle will be won without you putting yourself in danger.”
Gewey couldn’t help but be grateful for her concern. But he knew that lives would be lost needlessly if he did not act.
“I promise that nothing will happen to me,” he said.
Before another word could be spoken he unleashed the flow of the air. His body flew skyward and in seconds he was more than one hundred feet above the battle. Elves were pointing up at him in awe as he drifted closer to the wall.
After crossing over the ramparts he could see that he and Tristan were correct. Angrääl had set up their defenses around the gates and all along the main avenue toward the docks. There, another large force waited. If the gates were breached, they were obviously hoping to hold off the elves long enough to escape by sea.
Arrows began to streak toward Gewey, but he easily blew them back. The sight of a man flying above their heads was now spreading increasing terror through the Angrääl ranks. Before his time in Shagharath he might have chosen to engulf them in a blazing inferno. But his spirit no longer raged. His intention was not only to save the lives of the elves, but of his enemy as well.
Using the flow of the earth, he caused the ground below to shake violently. Very quickly, not a single man was able to remain on his feet.
“I am Darshan!” he called out in an ear-splitting voice. “Throw down your weapons and you will be spared.”
Gewey spread his arms wide. A ball of fire shot down and exploded twenty feet above the cowering men. The flames swirled and rose, enveloping Gewey’s body.
He descended through the inferno, allowing it to dissipate as his feet touched the ground. He did not need to repeat his command. The clank and clatter of hundreds of swords being dropped echoed off the granite walls. Though the ground no longer shook, the soldiers still did not dare rise to their feet.
Gewey surveyed the scene. The gatehouse had been barricaded and the streets leading from the main avenue blocked with anything they could get their hands on.
He heard the snap of a bowstring and the whiz of an arrow. From the corner of his eye he saw the deadly missile bearing down. An odd sensation of amusement rushed through him. Just before the arrow found its mark he sent out a short blast of air that sent it falling harmlessly to the flagstone street.
The ground shook once again. “Do not test the limits of my goodwill.” Gewey’s voice was like a thunderclap, echoing as if inside a great cavern. “Who is your commander?”
Several moments passed before a man clad in black steel plate, a red plume fixed atop his helmet, stepped forward. Gewey noticed that he still held his sword.
“Do you intend to fight me?” he asked.
“Rather than kneel before someone who will kill me anyway,” the man replied. He held his head high and proud. “I will choose to die fighting…not groveling.”
“Surrender to me at once,” said Gewey. “And I will not kill you or your men. Nor will any who follow me.”
The commander sneered. “Do you expect me to believe that?”
In a blur of speed, Gewey spanned the distance between them. With a quick twist of his wrist, he disarmed the man as easily as swatting a fly. The commander could only stand with his eyes wide and his mouth agape.
Gewey’s expression did not change. “I expect you to believe that if I wanted your blood, I could have it now.” He reached down and picked up the commander’s sword. He examined it for a moment, then offered it back to him. “Have your men lay down their arms and leave the city. Tell them that they may return home, or go back to their master in the north…it doesn’t matter to me. But they are to be out of Baltria by nightfall.”
After a brief hesitation, the commander took his blade and saluted. “I am General Leon Kirtzul. The city is yours, Darshan.”
Gewey nodded. “Very well. Open the gates and spread word of this to the rest of your troops before more lives are needlessl
y lost.”
General Kirtzul immediately issued the necessary order for the gates. This done, after a final glance at Gewey, he marched away to begin organizing a withdrawal.
As the gates swung wide, Gewey stepped out. The elves came charging headlong toward him, but stopped the moment he held up his hand.
“The city is ours,” he announced. “None who surrender are to be harmed.”
Cheers rose like a flood. Those climbing the walls quickly began descending, many of them jumping from considerable heights in their eagerness to join celebrating comrades on the ground.
Gewey could see Bevaris pushing his way through the ranks, smiling broadly. Tristan, Linis and Dina were close behind.
“Well done, my lad,” shouted Bevaris with a boisterous laugh. “Well done indeed.”
“See that once the city is secured, all Angrääl soldiers are escorted from the walls,” said Gewey.
“So you really intend to let them go?” asked Linis.
“This war is not going to be won with more blood,” said Gewey. “Killing these men will accomplish nothing. And I already have enough deaths on my conscience.”
“They would not have been so generous if the situation was reversed,” countered Tristan. “Nor will they be, should they return.”
“I don’t care,” said Gewey sternly. “If they will lay down their arms and leave, I will allow them to do so. And those who choose to go back to their homes will spread word of the Reborn King’s defeat.”
“Not to mention the mercy of Darshan,” added Linis. “I think it a wise decision.”
Gewey smiled. “I’m glad you think so.”
He turned back to the gates. Elves were flooding in, nearly all singing songs of the mighty Darshan and their great victory. He could see that Angrääl soldiers were already lining the main avenue, defeated but relieved they would be spared.
“Come,” he said to the others. “Let us go find Lee.”
The Godling Chronicles:Book 05 - Madness of the Fallen Page 21