Jadde - The Fragile Sanctuary

by Clive Ousley

  After a minute she gave up hope of spotting them again and diverted her attention to the people leaving their homes to continue the construction of earth ramparts. Around the bridge deep ditches were being dug, the soil mounded into six foot banks alongside to form a barrier. Seara knew another was being constructed along the east boundary facing toward the Pit of Vorbe, where apparently the gorge released a waterfall into a deep seething pool. Whether there would be time to finish the fortifications she doubted. Already hunters were reporting sightings of small bands of quarter-men in the furthest hunting grounds bordering the Sylve lands. Sadly she realised the beautiful tree houses must be overrun, she hoped the demons had not destroyed them.

  The last of the Celembrie people had trickled in during the night with the Sylve survivors. It had been a close thing with their warriors fighting rear-guard skirmishes all the way through the Sylve forests.

  Seara walked uphill behind the great mounded homes of the main Brightwater village to where the Celembrie people had been allocated fields to set up camp. For the rest of the day she helped soothe the aches and sprains of people unused to such an enforced flight.

  Her highsense had slowly returned to full power. It was as if she had found a way of healing herself by applying her own mental hands to the raw wound of Olaff’s death, then gently eased him into a treasured part of her memory. And of course she still had Palreth who Olaff was part of anyway; the thought cheered her.

  Later she accepted a meal from grateful Celembrie people and helped her father allocate able bodied Celembrie to help with the defences. As the evening darkened, she returned to view the earthen ramparts; the semi-circle around the entrance to the Lighthouse Bridge appeared finished. In the amber glow emitted from the lighthouse structures she walked back again and viewed the rows of turf roofed houses with wonder. They felt almost like home now, she had grown really fond of all the people she had befriended here. It was a beautiful place, only dirtied by the shadow of the approaching demons.

  The next day she visited the Wolf people and helped with a difficult birth, curing the woman’s haemorrhaging with her gift. Then she healed a serious infected cut on a carpenter’s arm and the broken leg of a worker who’d fallen down an earthen rampart. Later she visited Tabra and the orphan boy Filleh. They were comfortably settled in a room given them alongside market buildings where traders bid and sold their wares.

  Three days later a cold wind started from the south, it bore the sweet scent of spring blossom but she focused a new sensitivity and detected for the first time an acrid underpinning of demon. She shuddered and visions of attacking quarter-men momentarily filled her head. She forced the images away and watched two Brightwater carpenters fashioning the great open barrels that would be filled with oil and suspended over ditches at strategic points.

  It had been Thicheal the leader of the Celembie’s idea; an extension of his idea of using fire-arrows. The barrels would be constructed of oak planks sealed against leaks and bound with rope to hold the barrel together when filled with oil. At the correct moment the barrels would be upended, splashing oil over quarter-men in the ditch, fire-arrows would ignite the resultant coating.

  She retired for the night to the rooms she shared with her father. He lay exhausted with the administration of defence tasks and additional research in the library, but stirred as she arrived. After a quick greeting he fell into an exhausted sleep.

  The same thing happened for the next five days, every time she returned from her duties. Now she also felt exhausted. The smell of alien odours now hung heavy in the breeze, the people also detected the ominous reek. The tribes worked ever more frantically, consequently more accidents occurred. She ran from one incident to the next.

  Seara arrived at their rooms that evening to find her father seated and keeping awake just for her.

  ‘Daughter, how are things with you?’

  ‘Fine Father,’ she spoke about the people she had treated that day. ‘How about you?’

  ‘No revelations in the research, I believe all the texts have been copied at some point and important information has been garbled or missed out by scribes who thought it meaningless. My only real discovery was of an ancient oil well this side of the Pit of Vorbe. I directed Brightwater men there, and they found ancient pipes sunk into the ground. They freed the choking debris of centuries and oil trickling from them. The texts state the ancients pumped in water to replace the oil so I instructed the men to build a gantry and force water in one vertical pipe with a ram. It worked and oil flowed from other pipes nearby. Wolf people have loaded it into barrels, and carts have taken them to the ditches.’

  ‘I wondered where the vast quantities of oil were coming from – well done Father,’ she leant over and kissed his cheek.

  ‘I fear it will take more effort than we have time.’

  ‘Demon odour is in the air, the smell is getting stronger.’

  ‘I know.’ He straightened in the chair. ‘Seara, if we are overwhelmed here you must save yourself and lead as many women and children back to Cyprusnia as possible.’

  ‘I will not leave without you Father.’

  ‘You may have to. But rest assured child, you will leave with my blessing.’

  Tears filled her eyes and she hugged him, his familiar smell comforted her.

  ‘I won’t leave you Father.’

  ‘Do as I say child – now promise me.’

  She fell silent; nightmare thoughts of slashing stabbing demons filled her head again, but Olaff’s image was replaced with her father’s.

  ‘Seara, listen closely. I believe the ramparts along the eastern boundary from the gorge to the foothills of the Mountains of Despair are too formidable a task to complete in the time we have. The Senate have allocated only half of our warriors to defend this huge line and I fear that they will be spread too thin.’

  Seara listened to the doom filled words and knew her father was correct. Her only visit to the eastern plain had revealed the vast space would be impossible to fortify in time.

  ‘Try to meet me here Father, I will wait as long as I can.’

  Halle smiled and she kissed him again, ‘Of course I will Daughter.’

  But she could tell his eyes contained little hope.

  Seara slept badly that night, and awoke late in the morning to find her father already gone. A map lay next to her pillow with a note.

  Dearest Seara

  Keep this map of the mountain passes safely on you at all times. I am to lead a band of men in defending the nearest area of the eastern barrier. Small groups of quarter-men are scouting in the woodland near there and our hunters are now fighting them.

  More news tonight. Remember our pact.

  Your loving Father.

  An hour later she had just attended another accident where two exhausted workers had somehow slashed each other with stakes they were sharpening in the bridge rampart. She had wiped clean the blood from the second man and healed his deep wound when a sentry shouted and rang an alarm bell. She looked toward the elm trees where she’d last seen Malkrin’s band disappear and spotted movement – it was all jet black and seemed full of waving limbs. The wind carried an evil hiss that strengthened as she listened. Resting men poured from the guard huts and more warriors filled the top of the ramparts as the first group of quarter-men burst from the trees beyond the bridge.

  ‘Back to the town Seara,’ a Brightwater officer gestured to her.

  She walked back a short distance and from the middle of the bridge watched the first arrows falling amongst the surging demons. She turned and ran to her room to retrieve Olaff’s bow and full quiver from under her bed, then rushed back across the bridge to the earthen barrier. More warriors ran with her to repel the demons. She stood behind an upturned cart piled around with junk which formed a secondary fortification. A dozen quarter-men led a half hearted rush; six reached the top of the rampart and were cut down at the expense of four warriors. Then, surprisingly all went quiet. But in the woods a mass
of black carapaces glinted in the midday sun and moved like a disrupted nest of giant ants. Had the initial rush just been to test the Brightwater defences? If so there must be some organisation in the demon masses.

  She ran to the fallen warriors, three were dead but the other was covered in deep slashes, the worst was to his throat. As he struggled to breathe she sealed the ruptured veins and then his throat. Her hands felt as if they were glowing as she ran them over his other injuries, willing herself to work slowly and to concentrate the healing highsense. Faintly she heard more shouts and screams from the rampart, and then a dead demon crashed down beside her. At last the warrior was healed. She handed him a flask of water and went over to another casualty who had crawled over, leaving a smear of blood behind him like a grotesque snail trail. She cured his stomach wound and then another warrior’s deep head wound.

  Suddenly all went quiet around her; she stood to walk to the next casualty.

  ‘That taught the bastards,’ someone nearby shouted triumphantly, and others cheered the small victory.

  All around her lay corpses of men and demons some intertwined in grotesque familiarity. She rushed to the next wounded man and looked around; their warriors at the defences were depleted. A large group of reserve men were rushing from the town to reinforce the barrier.

  She healed that warrior and he rose shakily, muttered a sincere, ‘thanks angel,’ and rejoined his comrades.

  Another rush of black shelled monsters assaulted the barrier as her highsense worked its miracle so many times she lost count. All the once-wounded were intensely grateful and kept calling her Angel, Queen and once even Goddess. Seara smiled back, scared of becoming numbed to the chaos, but the sudden title and worshipping thanks bolstered her. She did not deserve their intense gratitude; she was just doing what she did best to help her people. Thoughts tumbled through her mind as she looked from her raised standing point and watched thick oily smoke billow from the eastern barrier. Then in dismay she watched a rush of warriors and women in that direction to reinforce defences.

  And still the demons charges came and were repulsed. The ground between the two warring sides became filled with smouldering fire-arrows, dead demons and human corpses. Behind the rampart, rows of dead warriors had been respectfully arranged, but now piles of bodies still lay where they fell. Seara estimated a quarter of the warriors were dead. In horror she watched a mass of demons gather before the woodland, more than she thought could possibly be left. The men of the allied tribes rose again to face them, some ran over to touch her and left with a smile and renewed energy.

  The demon horde continued to flow from the wood, hissing in a communal chorus, but waited before renewing their attack.

  ‘My thanks Angel,’ or, ‘I am in your debt Goddess,’ and other gratitude’s were whispered to her by the healed men before returning to their positions. More warriors who had not been healed came to touch and thank her. She saved them the trouble of running up, and walked amongst them armed with her bow and quiver. She smiled and kissed the few that looked fearful or battle-shocked. An officer came over and hugged her, then another. Soon the men were cheering, but strangely it was not for their successful defence. They all glanced at her adoringly and shouted approval, she felt her face redden.

  With shrill calls the demon’s renewed their onslaught and ran forward with a chorus of hisses.

  Seara returned to where the women she had trained were tending more wounded and carried on her healing. But there were too many casualties and she began to tire. Her hands felt increasingly numb and each healing took longer.

  ‘Ready with the fire barrels,’ an officer shouted above the mayhem of battle. Seara looked up at a row of archers ready with large flaming arrows. A roar of stamping feet assaulted her ears from the other side of the rampart accompanied by an evil ear-splitting hiss. Men loosed arrows and spears from the bulwark into the unseen horde beyond. She wondered if anyone would survive the tide of demons clicking and hissing at the barrier.

  ‘Now’, the officer announced to the archers with fiery arrows. She stood to watch because her hands were so numb they were incapable of more healing.

  The trench was full of scuttling black shapes that hissed and ran at the steep bank nearest her. Oil splashed in liquid black from the barrels and sprayed along the trench and over the horde. Fire arrows ignited the flood, other arrows fired the oil saturated ropes and barrels. The bulky barrels erupted with an oily choking smoke. They were heaved into the unseen ditch, from where agonising demon shrieks and screams assaulted her ears. Roasted quarter-men tried to clamber in all directions to avoid a fiery death but were quickly consumed. Further along the ditch three more barrels spilt sending flaming waves to meet in the middle of the ditch, splashing fire like a red-hot rainstorm. Dozens of quarter-men died writhing in the flames and smoke, others spiralled in a grotesque flaming dance emitting high pitched wails. Still others ran onto the stakes atop the earthen barrier. The survivors were picked off with arrows from archers. Occasionally a warrior was downed by a slash or bite and fell into the fire. Black smoke billowed around, forming strange shapes that seemed alive; it enveloped Seara and she choked, and lost sight of the ghastly slaughter. A smouldering demon staggered toward her from the acrid cloud. She drew Olaff’s bow and downed it with a single shot to its blistered face.

  The sun had turned red in the smoke and through the blistering clouds demons jumped, slew, and then died. The warriors were tiring and Seara’s highsense was still exhausted. Again she drew Olaff’s bow and downed two demons that had fought their way through the defence perimeter.

  Four warriors formed up either side of her and fought off two demons. Another demon lunged at her, slashing at her thigh but a Wolf warrior finished it with a huge spear thrust through joints in its carapace.

  Olaff’s bow downed another. The smoke began to clear revealing small bands of warriors fighting never ending surges of demons.

  ‘Back over the bridge, quickly,’ a wounded officer shouted and gestured with his good arm. She looked around, it was dark now and the scene was lit by spots of burning oil and flickering fire-arrows. The moon was appearing through diminishing smoke and in its reflection hordes of fresh quarter-men approached.

  Arms grabbed Seara and thrust her along amidst a group of Celembrie and Brightwater warriors. She looked over to where her women helpers had been tending the wounded. A warrior next to her shouted that the women and casualties had already been helped away.

  She was over the bridge and without thinking she had shot an arrow at a rushing demon. Two warriors fought it, one died the other prevailed.

  Somehow the Lighthouse Bridge was alight in three places along the supporting tree-trunks. The thick wood refused to weaken although the fire appeared to have a hold. Men fought demons across the span and around it. Smoke and sparks swirled over them and bodies fell tumbling into the watery gorge beneath.

  Then the demons broke through with a collective shriek of triumph. And Seara found herself on a raised crag between the burning bridge and the town.

  It was time to organise as many woman and children as she could: she had promised her father. As she decided, a fighting rearguard of warriors to the east came into sight fighting bunched lines of demons in an organised retreat. She spotted her father and shouted over to some women.

  ‘Gather your children and provisions, and go to the Senate Hall. Quickly now,’ she added firmly.

  She glanced downhill to her father who was fighting his way slowly back in her direction. Waving Olaff’s bow, she ran toward him, and loosed an arrow into a demon that approached him.

  Then he was with her. He was covered in minor wounds and panting with exhaustion. But he was with her and that was all that mattered.

  Together they ran back to the raised crag as it gave all-round vision and seemed as good a place as any to make a stand.

  She shouted a command. ‘People of the tribes – stand fast – hold them - hold.’

  Warriors gathered a
bout her, rallying on her figure as she stood silhouetted on the hillock with the last moments of a red sunset behind her. Her father had a bloodied sword gripped in two shaking hands. The group were about to be surrounded by demons.

  ‘Run, to the Senate Hall,’ she shouted to women who had joined her. ‘I’ll be with you as soon as I can.’ They hesitated, and then ran for all they were worth into the gathering night.

  She was with nine warriors and her father on the crowded mound. They faced outward giving each other as much room as possible to wield swords and spears. Seara was in the middle; she kissed her father’s cheek then notched an arrow in preparation.

  The demons circled as if relishing their final rush. Seara noticed in great detail their razor sharp fingers coated in blood and the blades strapped to their feet or knees which they kicked out in expectation. All had wide mouths hanging open and most were licking human blood from their faces with long unpleasant tongues.

  The night had arrived, only flames provided light now.

  She drew an arrow, aimed it and shot a demon through the eye, it crumpled, stone dead.

  ‘That’s for Olaff,’ she screamed and drew another arrow.

  More demons joined the circling group, hissing and mouthing alien noises. The final rush was seconds away. A warrior lost his mind in the waiting and run down the hillock with spear outstretched and impaled a demon, but went down in a flurry of swipes.

  As one the massed demons rushed uphill.

  From nowhere a troop of horsemen crashed into the quarter-men. Lances skewered then splintered. Then the riders slashed with swords that glinted in the moonlight. Seara shot another demon as it ran at her father. ‘Another for Olaff,’ she screamed as demons smashed into her diminishing shield of warriors. She ducked under a quarter-man’s flashing fingers, and lost her balance in a seething mass of limbs. Seara tumbled downhill. A demon corpse fell on top of her. She struggled to work free from beneath the stinking body, hindered by the moving, twisting feet all around.