Severed Destinies

by David Kimberley

  He quickly returned to the task at hand and lowered himself down from the stable roof to the ground, crouching as he landed and staying in the shadows. This corner of the fortress it seemed was dimly lit and he found it simple moving pressed against the east wall until he stood below the steps and the door. He watched the soldiers patrolling for a moment and then timed his leap to perfection, catching the edge of the steps and hauling himself up before any of them could see. Realising he needed to move fast, Saroth headed to the door and moved through it, closing it quietly behind him and then listening against it. No alarms were raised and he took in a breath of satisfaction.

  Unsheathing a long knife from his belt, he looked over his shoulder. He was stood in a narrow corridor that was unlit but the illumination from a doorway ahead could be seen and the sound of Rotian voices echoed from within. Saroth edged along the wall and peered around the frame of the doorway. He saw a long yet thin chamber where two Rotian soldiers stood talking together near to the gate’s mechanism. The heavy wheels that needed to be turned were locked in place by a bar of metal. The fact that it took more than one Rotian to turn a wheel and open the gate was of no consequence to him. His focus was now on swiftly dealing with the two men who stood between him and the mechanism.

  He watched the soldiers for a moment and, when they both turned away from the doorway, Saroth took his chance. Quickly, he slipped into the room and moved directly for the rotian nearest to him. The distance between doorway and soldier was not great and, as he reached the young, dark-haired rotian, Saroth gauged how close the second man was. He pulled the soldier’s head back and cut his throat with brutal precision. As his companion turned, seeing the sudden movement, Saroth flicked his wrist and the long knife flew from his grasp, taking the man in the eye.

  Leaving his blade, he turned his attention to the gate mechanism. He was certain that, by this time, the commander and his men were ready to charge through the open gates of Turambar and he was looking forward to being involved in the battle this time. So far, Sephonis had used him for information gathering and scouting missions. He had been forced to miss the destruction of Barentin and Tamriel, plus had been ordered to watch the roads from Boraila rather than entering the city during the invasion. Here, in this doomed Rotian fortress, Saroth would finally be able to practise the arts he learnt back in Shada-Kaviel to greater effect.

  Gorric glanced back over his shoulder as he followed Ilkar down a spiraling flight of steps below the south wall of the fortress. Behind him, he could see Khir’s thoughtful expression in the dim lantern light. He had made no time to speak with his best friend since their arrival at Turambar and felt the pangs of guilt gnawing at him. It was difficult to say what the future now held for them, but Gorric was determined to make time on the journey to Vylandor to talk with Khir. The bond of friendship between them had kept Gorric from losing his mind after the events of the recent days.

  “Keep up,” called Ilkar, reaching the base of the steps and moving swiftly south along a narrow tunnel.

  They followed the corporal through the labyrinth-like corridors until a cool breeze hit their faces. A moment later and they could all hear the gentle lapping of water. Finally, they emerged into a small subterranean dock below Turambar. Two wooden piers had been constructed and several small rowboats were moored.

  “Take two boats,” Ilkar instructed them. “Before you exit onto the river proper, I will raise the small portcullis that is in place.” He nodded towards a lever to his left that operated the gate mechanism. “You will see the lights of the settlement on the other side so head straight for them. They are slightly downriver and the current is light tonight.”

  Khir peered out past the piers and could see that the stone ceiling of the docking chamber ended some fifteen to twenty feet beyond them. After that, the man-made inlet narrowed and joined the Ulmerien. His eyes moved to the dark waters by the piers and he shivered, drawing around him the cloak that he had been given in the fortress.

  “You have the rations?” Ilkar asked Gorric.

  Gorric nodded. “We have everything. Thank you.”

  Ilkar smiled and patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t thank me. I’m just seeing you safely away from here as ordered. I know how much you want to stay.”

  “That feeling isn’t shared by us all though,” mumbled Varayan, already heading for one of the rowboats. “Come on, Rynn.”

  The acolyte sighed and shook his head, then turned to Ilkar. “Corporal, back at the temple in Boraila, you saved our lives and I will not forget that. May Ardan bless you.”

  Ilkar studied Rynn’s face for a moment. “How do you feel now?”

  “Exhausted. My head aches still, but it will ease once we are on our way to the capital.” With a sigh, Rynn followed Varayan to the rowboat.

  “Gorric, it’s time for Kithia, Khir and yourself to leave too,” stated Ilkar, ushering the three towards the piers. “I’ll release the moorings for you.”

  A grating sound came from above and Ilkar suddenly halted, his head tilted upwards as he listened. For a moment, all was silent but then a man’s cry echoed down and all six in the docking chamber looked at each other with concern.

  “I’ve heard that sound before,” said Varayan. “Let us leave now.”

  Ilkar made a run for the tunnel and, when he realised that Gorric was following, he turned on his heel to face him. “Get in that boat and get across the river. That sound was the gate opening and I can only hope that we are sending someone out instead of letting someone in. I have to go back up but you need to get your friends to safety.”

  “Ilkar, I have a sword and I know how…”

  “The captains’ orders stand, Gorric. You will have to open the portcullis now and then get across the river .” With that, Ilkar vanished back into the tunnels.

  “You heard him,” came Kithia’s voice. “Gorric, we need to get away from here. We don’t belong in battle.”

  Gorric looked back at the others. Varayan and Rynn were sat in one of the rowboats, whilst Khir and Kithia waited for him on the pier. He yearned to follow Ilkar and to help the men above but it would mean letting down his sister and friend. The commotion back up in the courtyard of Turambar was increasing in volume and the sounds of battle reached their ears, telling them that somehow the invaders had penetrated the defenses of the fortress.

  “Gorric, if they’re inside Turambar then it won’t be long before they are down here,” said Khir, starting to undo one of the mooring ropes. “If we don’t leave now, they could intercept us as we head for the river.”

  Gorric looked up at the opening that led out into the night and almost expected to see black forms swimming in towards them but the portcullis was still lowered. He glanced back to see that Kithia had climbed into the second rowboat, which Khir was working to free. His friend had thrown his father’s hunting bow and the quiver holding the five arrows salvaged from the burnt remnants of his home into the boat next to Kithia. Briefly, Gorric wondered why Khir did not want to stay on the northern bank of the river, seeing how his parents had apparently been taken by the men who attacked Tamriel.

  Kithia could see by her brother’s expression that he was torn between staying to help Sarin, Ilkar and the Turambar men or fleeing. “Gorric, please get in the boat. We need you too.”

  Gorric nodded and reluctantly made his way across the pier towards the gate lever, keeping his eyes on Kithia. She had survived the razing of Tamriel and had avoided capture. Her strength astounded him, yet he realised that she was indeed her father’s daughter in every sense.

  “Khir,” he began, still watching Kithia. “Release both boats whilst I raise the portcullis. We’re leaving.”

  Ilkar parried one of the invader’s vicious blades away with his own sword and then swiftly sliced back, catching the dark-armoured man in the side and sending him reeling to the ground. He did not have time to follow up though as more attackers were moving towards him.

  He looked around the Turambar court
yard to try and gauge the enemy’s strength. His heart sank as he saw the sheer number of the invading force that had flooded into the fortress. He saw the gate now standing open fully and simply could not explain how they had gained entry. The attackers had obviously been positioned just outside Turambar and charged in as soon as the gates began to part. The courtyard of the fortress was a mass of dark forms, with the Rotian soldiers desperately defending from the walls and stairs. They could not have known that they would be attacked from the inside.

  Ilkar tried to find Sarin amongst the fighting but the captain was no longer on the wall it seemed where he had been when the corporal had led Gorric and the others down to the boats. He needed a strategy against these attackers but, since he had joined the battle, he had not been able to get near enough to his fellow soldiers to get into formation. Determined to defend the fortress in any way possible, Ilkar moved towards the nearest steps. At the base of the steps were several dead bodies, mainly Rotian, and he leapt over them. Above him, two invaders fought to get onto the wall, but the soldiers defending it were keeping them at bay. Ilkar glanced across towards the courtyard again and caught sight of the door leading to the gate mechanism. Hearing heavy footsteps behind him, he looked back to see another invader running for the steps. Seeing a Rotian sword lying next to one of the bodies, he quickly picked it up and wielded both blades at the man trying to pursue him. One blade bounced off the armour, but the second cleaved into the foreigner’s neck and he sprawled on top of the rest of the bodies.

  Gritting his teeth, Ilkar turned and charged up the steps at the two attackers above him. He sent one reeling off to the courtyard below and tripped the second, who fell heavily onto the stone step. The corporal did not have time to finish him though and ran up onto the wall, heading along it towards the gate. Dodging between the men, he found the door to the gate mechanism was ajar and reached out to open it. A crossbow bolt slammed into the door inches from his hand and he looked down to see one of the invaders reloading. Quickly, he slipped through the doorway and ran down the short corridor, hearing the sound of battle from the chamber holding the mechanism.

  He turned the corner in time to see two Rotian soldiers cutting down an enemy soldier. Scanning the rest of the chamber, he saw a second foreigner face down on the floor next to two Rotian bodies.

  “Sir, we found them like that,” said one of the soldiers, nodding down at his fallen comrades.

  Ilkar saw that one corpse had been impaled through the eye whilst the second had his throat cut. He looked up at the mechanism and saw that it had been broken. “It seems they got in here unseen,” he muttered, trying to comprehend how the invaders had got past all of their guards on the walls. “You two, get out there.”

  The soldiers left the chamber and Ilkar took one last brief look at the bodies then followed them. As he emerged back into the battle, he could see Sarin making his way across the wall towards him. Making sure that the crossbowman from earlier was not still looking for targets, Ilkar moved to meet the captain. However, as he approached, Ilkar saw that Sarin was staggering and blood was dripping from a wound in his side.

  “Sir, you need to…”

  “Turambar is breached,” yelled Sarin, seeming not even to hear Ilkar. “The gates opened and they just flooded in. How could this happen?”

  “Somehow they got to the mechanism,” Ilkar reported. “The guards in the chamber were slain quickly and quietly. They never even drew their swords.”

  Sarin stared down at the courtyard. “Turambar is lost, Ilkar.”

  “We can try to hold against them. The walls are still proving difficult for them to take.”

  “No, Ilkar. They have too many men.”

  Ilkar frowned. “We’re not finished yet, sir.”

  Sarin’s eyes suddenly cleared. “Did our young friends get away?”

  “Yes, sir, they did. I left them when I heard the fighting start and, even though Gorric was keen to fight, I ordered him away.”

  “Let us hope then that the young lord was not foolish and is safely on his way across the river.” Sarin stood straight and lifted his head high. “Rally the men, Ilkar. We’ll hold as long as we can.”

  “From what I’ve seen, our bowmen are running short on arrows. Soon, the enemy crossbows will give them a greater advantage.”

  Sarin gave a smile that lacked amusement. “Best we kill the crossbowmen first then.”

  The corporal, noting Sarin’s sudden clarity, took a deep breath, knowing that it could be one of his last. “Sir, your wound is deep. You should command the men from a safer position.”

  “I’ll live, Ilkar. Now, these invaders have scattered into the courtyard without any apparent formation. They are not great tacticians by what I have seen when it comes to close combat. If we can…”

  As Sarin turned to point out his plan, a crossbow bolt struck him, taking him in the side of the skull. The captain reeled backwards and fell heavily. By the time Ilkar reached him, the captain was staring lifelessly up into the night sky.

  The corporal spun, looking down into the courtyard to see who had fired the lethal bolt and, for a moment, all he could see were the dark forms of the attacking force. He then noticed a figure watching him from the edge of the battle, standing at the doorway leading down to the underground dock where, just moments ago, he himself had been standing. The man was not wearing the same heavy armour as the invading soldiers it seemed but Ilkar could not see him clearly. He watched as the man turned and vanished through the doorway.

  Ilkar moved to the nearest Rotian soldiers. “Defend the walls with your lives,” he yelled at them. “Do not let them get a foothold. Shield yourselves from their crossbowmen. We will hold Turambar.”

  With that, he ran past them and made his way as quickly as possible back towards the doorway to the dock.

  Saroth moved swiftly into the interior of the fortress. In one fluid motion, he pulled another bolt from his belt and loaded it into his light crossbow. He did not fire the weapon often but, when he had seen the commanding officer of the fortress up on the wall, he simply could not let the opportunity pass by.

  Feeling a cool breeze from ahead, he peered around the side of an open archway to see stairs spiraling down. With a glance back over his shoulder, Saroth moved through the archway and silently made his descent. He let the breeze guide him as he reached a network of tunnels at the base of the steps and soon he could hear water lapping.

  Gorric’s heart began racing as a tall, cloaked invader appeared back on the dock. Glancing over his shoulder as he rowed, he could see that the raised portcullis was agonizingly close. Varayan and Rynn’s boat was almost directly beneath the exit onto the river. When he looked back at the foreigner, Gorric saw that he was walking swiftly towards the gate lever and noted the crossbow in his hand.

  “Khir, it is time to test your aim,” he said quietly to his friend sitting opposite.

  Khir glanced at Kithia next to him, then turned to see the invader. “I’ve never shot a man before,” he stated shakily.

  “If you don’t, he’s going to shut us in here. He isn’t wearing the heavy armour and he has no shield. Do it now.”

  Kithia grabbed Khir’s bow. “I’ll do it.”

  “No,” snapped Khir, snatching the bow from her.

  As he notched one of the arrows and began to take aim, the foreigner noticed and came to a sudden halt, turning to stare across the water at Khir. For a moment, the two locked gazes and, whilst Khirs’ eyes showed his reluctance, the foreigner almost seemed to be inviting the shot. Khir finally released the arrow but the man simply sidestepped with such speed and grace that it was almost supernatural. The arrow hit the wall and flew off to one side, landing near the doorway to the docks.

  “Again, Khir,” ordered Gorric, nodding towards the remaining four arrows.

  Khir saw the foreigner lift the crossbow. Reaching out, he grabbed another arrow but his hands were shaking badly and it slipped from his fingers as he moved to take aim again.
Cursing, Khir retrieved it but, as he looked up towards the docks, he saw Ilkar appearing through the doorway.

  The corporal charged the foreigner, who did not seem surprised by his sudden arrival but looked more annoyed at the disturbance. By the time Ilkar reached him, the man had dropped his crossbow and unsheathed a long knife and a curved blade. Ilkar, still wielding two swords, attacked with all of his remaining energy but the foreigner parried one blade away and swiftly dodged the second. Ilkar glanced down to make sure he did not lose his footing on the narrow docks as he purposefully moved between his opponent and the boats. As he looked up again, he found the curved blade sweeping towards him and brought one sword up to block. Unexpectedly, the foreigner shifted the weight behind his attack at the last moment and his blade bounced off Ilkar’s but cut across the corporal’s cheek. Not able to reel from the wound, Ilkar saw the long knife stabbing at his stomach and thrust his second sword down to knock it away.

  Blood running down his cheek and dripping from his chin, Ilkar noticed the man hesitate and took the opportunity, lunging with one sword whilst aiming to slice his thigh with the other. The foreigner deflected the lunge aside with his curved blade and gracefully angled his knife down to stop the second Rotian sword. Then, catching the corporal off balance, he brought his elbow up sharply and caught Ilkar under the chin. As Ilkar staggered backwards from the strike, the foreigner spun and slashed both blades simultaneously across the corporal’s upper thigh. The weapons cleaved deep and Ilkar yelled out in pain, instantly falling to the ground at the man’s feet.

  As the foreigner kicked the swords away from Ilkar’s reach, the corporal suddenly lashed out with a dagger. With inhuman quickness, the foreigner dodged back then kicked Ilkar’s wrist, forcing him to release the weapon which slid off the dock and into the water.