The Siege of Abythos

by Phil Tucker

  They turned off the main road and followed one that was perhaps half as wide into the gloom, with a strange mess of white cubes off to their right. Kethe stared at it in curiosity until Kade noted her confusion.

  "That's where the Bythians live. Bizarre, is it not? It's said there's no glass in the windows; there are no doors in the doorways. Just empty cubes of a white, unbreakable substance that is supposed to have preceded humanity's arrival down here. Harsh living, but they don't have to worry about bad weather."

  Kethe nodded but made no comment. She saw Bythians standing on the flat roofs of their homes, in their doorways, and in the gaps between the buildings, watching them with flat, hard eyes. Was that anger she saw in their expressions? Hatred? She shivered. Did they all harbor the same fury Asho had?

  They marched through the darkness of Bythos for perhaps ten minutes, the aurora above casting a faint glow like that of twilight upon the land, allowing her to see the wall of the great cavern drawing ever closer. Eventually they reached its base, and there she found a staging ground, where a large number of caravans and wagons were lined up to one side, all of them loaded with goods and provisions. Merchants were arguing with soldiers, but others seemed simply to be passing the time. Kethe realized that these goods were for Abythos, for the coming siege, for the thousands upon thousands of soldiers who would need to be fed each day.

  "No sense in cluttering up the citadel," said Kade, nodding toward the great mercantile encampment. "What's needed is sent through each day. A hell of a mess to coordinate, but that's not our concern."

  "We can withstand a siege forever, then," said Kethe.

  "No starving us out," agreed Kade. "One of Abythos' many strengths."

  A great arch rose over a ramp that descended down into the depths.

  "The Abythian Labyrinth," said Kade, having fallen into the role of guide with ease. "There's a veritable mess of tunnels below, but we need not concern ourselves with most of them. That ramp spirals down directly to our Portal."

  They marched down the ramp, then around and around, their passage illuminated by eerie green light shed by what looked like the bodies of insectile crabs that were affixed to the wall. Finally they emerged into a grand central chamber in whose center arose the Portal to Abythos. It was surrounded by deep ravines on all sides, saw Kethe, and then she corrected herself. The Portal stood on an island of rock, connected to the rest of the cavern by causeways.

  Ainos' guard was already passing through. Kethe slowed and stopped, waited for Synesis' two hundred to pass, then nodded as an administrator of some kind who was standing atop a pedestal near the gate called out her name and motioned for her to proceed.

  Kethe walked up to the Portal. Her stomach felt tight, her nerves all ajangle. Would she ever return through this gate? Its milky expanse reared above her, and with a deep breath she stepped forward.

  Again, there was that disorientation, that cleaving of infinities, and then she was through. Kethe hadn't known what to expect – blue skies, or a courtyard, perhaps, but instead she emerged into another cavern, this one lit by countless lanterns set along the walls. The room was large, but after the impossibility of Bythos it seemed cramped and confining. Synesis' column was marching down a broad hall to her left, and as Kethe sought to orient herself, a soldier came rushing up to her, bowing as he approached.

  "Welcome to Abythos, esteemed Virtue. May the Ascendant bless your coming. Please, if you would be so kind, follow Virtue Synesis down toward the barracks."

  Kethe sensed the urgency in the man's voice and nodded, not breaking her stride as she turned and left the large chamber for the broad hallway. The ceiling was low, the stone walls smooth and unadorned; their way was lit by more lanterns that seemed not to flicker but simply glow with a smooth, almost unnatural luminosity.

  The soldier walked alongside her, hands linked behind his back. He was an older man, perhaps in his early sixties, with a short iron shovel of a beard and a bare upper lip, shrewd eyes and a receding hairline. "I am Marshal Dithmar. This is your first visit to Abythos?"

  "It is," said Kethe.

  "Very well. Abythos is like no other citadel in the entirety of the Empire. It was designed with one sole purpose: to resist dragon attacks."

  Kethe felt her stomach lurch. "Does this Tharok have a dragon?"

  "Not that we've heard." Dithmar frowned. "But Ogri's victory over Abythos hinged on his dragon's assault. It incinerated hundreds of soldiers on the walls, tore down the towers, sundered the front gate. The defenders were helpless, and in the end, they were massacred."

  Synesis' column was still marching forward, but Dithmar gestured that Kethe should take a side tunnel. They turned into another stark hallway. Narrower corridors extended immediately to the left and right, and then they walked past eight plain doors on either side of of the hall. Kethe peered into them and saw that each was a simple cell, complete with bunk beds that could accommodate four soldiers.

  Dithmar said, "Achiatus, tasked by the Ascendant to rebuild Abythos, was a man of unique vision and talent. It is no coincidence that he is the patron of engineers and architects everywhere."

  Then he led Kethe past the cells and out into a brightly lit and circular room, which she saw was the bottom of a huge cylinder that rose up perhaps twenty yards. Its ceiling was an iron grate across which she saw soldiers walking. A massive spoke of wood rose up the center of the cylinder, its length sheathed in bands of iron, its width too broad for her to wrap her arms around.

  "We will halt here within the cylinder for a moment so that I may orient you," said Dithmar, and Kethe obliged by raising her fist. Her guards came to a halt behind her, the Consecrated moving forward so they could listen.

  "This is one of ten cylinders that comprise Abythos." Dithmar's voice assumed a clear, almost professorial tone. "Above each cylinder is one of Abythos' towers. Each cylinder can house five hundred and twelve soldiers off its eight radial hallways. We just walked down one of them."

  Kethe saw seven more large archways around the base of the circular room and nodded.

  "The design is meant to ensure that we can send the greatest number of soldiers to the surface in the least amount of time. Note the smaller archways between the radial hallways. Each leads to a stairwell that spirals around the cylinder. There are eight such staircases five feet beyond the walls. When the call is given, your soldiers are to file down their radial hall and enter the staircase immediately to their left. It is but twenty yards to the surface. By this method, we can elevate five hundred men into battle in under five minutes, two if they are prepared and have undergone sufficient drills."

  Wolfker gave a low whistle, but Kethe ignored him. She was trying not to show how impressed she was. Eight hallways, each housing – what – four times sixteen was... sixty-four men?

  "How is the signal given?" she asked.

  "Trumpet," said Dithmar. "From here within the cylinder."

  She nodded, imagining that blast. Men stepping out of their cells into the hallway, rushing down into the cylinder and then turning to flow into their stairwells. A sprint up the steps, and half a thousand men would emerge to do battle.

  "Very impressive. And this central spoke?"

  Dithmar gave it a sharp glance. "This is part of the mechanism that turns the giant crossbows at the top of the towers. Beneath us is a large chamber in which teams of oxen can be harnessed to turn it clockwise once the battle has begun, allowing the crossbows above to constantly comb the skies in search of the dragon."

  Kethe felt overwhelmed. "How large is this complex?"

  "Large," Dithmar said with a bright and pitiless smile. "We have been carving it out ever since Achiatus laid down his great design. It has taken us centuries, but we have almost fulfilled his vision. Those two outer corridors that we passed when we turned from the main hallway toward this cylinder? They connect each of the radial hallways in a circle. Imagine, if you will, the wheel of a cart. Those two outer corridors are the rim. The cylinder the
spoke. All of this was only completed five years ago. Now, at long last, we will have a chance to test Achiatus' design."

  "You sound almost eager," said Kethe.

  "And I will admit that I am. I have dedicated my life to Abythos. It is rewarding to know that my life has not been spent in vain. Now, shall we quarter your troops?"

  Kade set about dividing the guards into groups of fifty, and when everyone was settled, they only took up four of the radial hallways.

  "The rest of the space will be taken by the next Virtue to arrive," said Dithmar. "Shall we continue with your tour, Virtue?"

  "Yes, by all means."

  She signaled to her Consecrated, who fell in line behind her, and together they climbed up one of the spiraling staircases carved into the rock around the cylinder.

  "The cylinders," continued Dithmar, "form the heart of the citadel's defense. Achiatus understood that the sole way to absolutely defend one's soldiers from a dragon was to keep them below ground. No matter how powerful Tharok's mount, it will not be able to pierce twenty yards of solid stone."

  He turned to smile grimly at Kethe, who tried to smile back and managed only a grimace.

  "Now," Dithmar said, leading them out through the door at the top. "This chamber comprises the base of the actual tower. From here, soldiers may continue to climb to the top of the castle wall or exit into the central courtyard to defend the front gate."

  The eight stairway doors opened into a circular chamber, the center of which was the massive grate with its central spoke. A broad doorway led out into the sunlight, while four other doors revealed broad steps climbing to farther heights. Dithmar led Kethe and her Consecrated to one of these doors, and they climbed up, round and round for what seemed like eternity, until finally they passed through a narrow door into the sunlight.

  Kethe stepped out into sweet, fresh air, a breeze immediately cooling the sweat on her brow, and shielded her eyes against the sunlight. It took her a moment to understand what she was seeing, and then she grinned.

  Four massive ballista sat on a circular wooden platform, each facing in a different direction. They were huge, easily three times the height of a man, in effect a monstrous crossbow supported by a titanic wooden frame. A barrel filled with massive spears was set beside each one, along with a crew of four men.

  Dithmar began to lecture, but Kethe ignored him, moving instead to the tower's battlement, where she stepped off the wooden platform onto stone. Wickedly barbed iron spikes rose every few yards, angled up and outward, each perhaps five yards long. She rested her hands on the brutal crenellations and gazed out over the land that swept toward misty mountains at the far edge of her vision. A broad road led to the base of the castle, passing through what looked like a town a hundred yards beyond the gates.

  There wasn't much traffic on the road, but the people traveling down it were clearly refugees. Kethe saw carts and wagons piled high with goods, entire families on the march, their exhaustion clear in the way they dragged their feet despite the distance.

  "The town of Abythos has been evacuated," said Dithmar, moving up beside her. "There is a debate taking place now between the town's mayor and our marshals on whether the buildings should be razed. I pray to the Ascendant that they are, denying the kragh any cover."

  "The castle walls aren't that high," said Sighart, peering down at the moat below. "Fifteen yards?"

  "Seventeen," said Dithmar.

  Sighart turned toward the marshal. "You've had centuries to build it higher. Why haven't you?"

  "Several reasons," said Dithmar. "First, the kragh are not an advanced race. They do not possess siege towers or the like. After a certain point, they cannot assail your wall, so building higher is a waste. More importantly, however, tall walls are easier to topple. We've built ours incredibly wide. No battering from a dragon will see them fall."

  Kethe drifted around the outside of the tower so she could gaze at the entirety of Abythos. It was in effect a huge circle, surrounded by a massively thick wall bristling with iron spikes and punctuated by ten towers, each armed with a complement of ballistae. There were no buildings in the central courtyard, only a broad stone ramp descending below ground, its surface blocked by another massive iron grate.

  Dalitha approached to ask, "Am I alone in finding this place unnerving?"

  "No," Kethe said quietly. "Not alone." She took a moment to collect herself, then asked, "How long till the kragh arrive?"

  The marshal shrugged. "No one knows. Our scouts have reported that they are only now leaving Gold, so at least three days if they march hard. Given their chaotic nature and their lack of discipline, however, we are guessing it will take them a week or more. Enough time for all our forces to arrive and be drilled."

  "Very well. Thank you, Marshal, for your tour. That will be all for now."

  Marshal Dithmar hesitated, clearly taken aback; then he bowed and descended into the tower. Kethe moved back to the battlements to gaze out over the undulating fields that extended out toward the mountains, and her Consecrated joined her.

  "This is the strangest castle I've ever seen," Wolfker said, leaning his elbows on a crenellation. "I think castle's the wrong word."

  "It's not a castle," Akkara said quietly. "It's a death trap."

  "Yes," Dalitha said nervously, "But for whom?"

  "For the kragh," Sighart said with quiet confidence. "Look at this place. Any dragon would be torn apart by the ballista before it could get close. Even if they take apart one of the towers, the others close by will destroy it. And these walls." Sighart smacked the battlement with the palm of his hand. "What do you think, Wolfker? Ten yards thick?"

  "At the base, possibly," Wolfker allowed.

  Sighart nodded and extended his hand. "Imagine it. The horde of kragh arrive. Their dragon – if there even is one – flies up to attempt the same tactics as before. It fails to knock a hole in the walls, finds no soldiers to massacre with its flames, no buildings in the center courtyard to destroy. Instead, it must focus its attention on the towers, which quickly kill it. The horde below throws itself forward and is rebuffed like ocean waves from a cliff." He paused, then smiled as a thought occurred to him. "There isn't even any need to kill the kragh. We can allow them to besiege us for as long as they wish. We're fully and forever provisioned. Eventually, they'll run out of food, quarrel amongst themselves, and depart. All without any loss of life."

  Kethe frowned. It sounded logical, and yet...

  "What do you think, Makaria?" Gray Wind turned to her, his voice somber. "Will it be as easy as Sighart says?"

  "I don't know," she confessed. "I don't think so. Just as we've had two hundred years to adapt our tactics, so have they. They've passed through Abythos over the years when they've gone to fight for the Empire in Ennoia or wherever else. They'll know our defenses. If this Tharok is any good, he'll take them into account."

  "But what can he do?" Sighart sounded almost impatient. "Kragh are little better than savages. They won't come at us with technical sophistication. They won't have two dragons, will they? It's unlikely they'll even have one. The very fact that they're attacking speaks to their stupidity."

  "Ten towers," said Gray Wind pensively. "Five hundred and twelve soldiers per tower. That's over five thousand men and women ready to surge up into combat in under two minutes if needed."

  "I hope you're right," Kethe said. "I hope we can all sit below playing cards while the kragh mill around outside for a few weeks before they become bored and go home. But something tells me it won't be so simple."

  They all looked out over the verdant landscape, the abandoned town, the distant fields. Kethe watched the stragglers hurrying toward Abythos and could almost sense their terror even at this great remove.

  Kethe sighed. "All right. Everyone back down. We've much to learn."

  The Consecrated began to move toward the trapdoor. But Khoussan hung back, a vertical line between his brows. "Makaria? A word?"

  Kethe wanted to claim she was t
oo busy, but she nodded. Khoussan had remained quiet, standing at the back of the group the entire time. He'd barely looked at her, and she'd avoided looking at him as well.

  "I want to thank you," he said in a low rumble.

  "What?" said Kethe. "I mean, excuse me?"

  "I had a long night of it. Did a lot of thinking. I'll admit, I was furious at you for most of it. But what you said – it was true."

  Kethe bit back the urge to apologize and simply raised an eyebrow. "Which part?"

  "The part about us all having shitty lives." Khoussan looked haggard; his eyes were sunken, but there was a new glint in their depths. "I mean, look at Akkara, right? Nothing about this world is fair." He grimaced and looked out over the plains. "I'm not going to get my old life back, and sulking isn't going to change that. So, thank you for waking me up. For slapping some sense into me."

  Kethe still wanted to apologize, to qualify his statements, to explain herself, but before she could, she bit down on the words. That wasn't her role to play. Somehow, miraculously, she'd gotten through to him. She couldn't undo that by suddenly doing an about-face and telling him she'd been a monster in doing so.

  "You're welcome, Khoussan." She forced herself to stand up straight. "And I'm glad you're here, really here, at last. We need you. I need you."

  Khoussan grimaced.

  No, Kethe realized. That was a smile.

  "That says more about you than me," he said.

  Kethe snorted. "About all of us. This situation we're in. This castle. I don't know –"

  "I don't either," said Khoussan. "Still, it's better than trying anything else I can think of. I guess I'll take it."

  Kethe smiled. "Same here. Now, let's get below. I wouldn't want to miss Dithmar's tour of the pantries or the sewage system or whatever else he wants to show off."

  Khoussan chuckled and led the way to the steps. Kethe followed, pausing only to glance back at the peerless blue sky.