His troop galloped along the winding street until they reached a barricade hastily erected by the locals from wagons, furniture and building materials that stood the height of two men. Cutter reined in and was met by two men bearing lanterns. ‘Where would you soldiers be going?’ the first man asked, but as the lantern light filled Cutter’s face the man blushed and apologised. ‘Sorry, Warmaster, I didn’t recognise you.’
‘Is there a way we can get past quickly?’ Cutter asked.
‘Through the bakery,’ the man replied, pointing to a two-storey building at the right side of the barricade. ‘The horses should just fit through the doors.’ Cutter ordered his troop to dismount and they led their horses through four narrow, low doorways, watched by citizens armed with old swords, cudgels and shovels, until they emerged in a tiny alley. ‘This leads back onto the street,’ a man on guard in the alley told Cutter. Cutter thanked him and led his remounted troop out to the street.
The buildings on either side rapidly became fewer with wider spaces and then Cutter and his men were among the unlit ranks of the soldiers forming a defensive perimeter along the north-eastern boundary of Port of Joy. Cutter climbed down from his horse and spoke to the first soldier he encountered. ‘Tell your Leader that Warmaster Cutter wants to meet him immediately.’
‘I’m Leader Woodbridge, Warmaster,’ the man replied. ‘Shieldmaster Roadmaker is in charge. I can get him for you.’
‘No,’ said Cutter, ‘you’ll do fine if you know what’s been happening.’
‘Tonight, Warmaster?’
‘Today and tonight—what’s your first name?’
‘Rustling, Warmaster.’
‘What’s been happening in the enemy ranks today and tonight, Rustling?’
‘Our scouts reported the Kerwyn were marshalling a big force of troops along the eastern flank of the city, looking like they intend to make a push into the River Quarter. It’s been quiet most of the day, but they started the bombardment after dark on the Farmers’ Quarter behind us, Warmaster, and Shieldmaster Roadmaker ordered us to be ready.’
‘And do you think they will come?’
Woodbridge cleared his throat and hesitated, as if he was carefully considering his answer. He said, ‘No, Warmaster. I think it’s a diversionary attack.’
‘To divert us from what?’
‘An attack on the River Quarter.’
Cutter paused as a whistling sound passed overhead and a moment later a fireball erupted in the Farmers’ Quarter of the city. ‘I commend your thinking, Leader Woodbridge,’ he said. ‘Don’t let the enemy break through tonight.’ He remounted, shouted an order to his troop and galloped southward towards the River Quarter.
Seer Vision watched the explosions in the city from the safety of the palace walls. Sometimes the light wind carried the cries of the people to him. ‘The Kerwyn have been improving the potency of the thunderclaps,’ observed Seer Weaver who was standing to Vision’s right.
‘They don’t show enough respect to the wonder of our Blessings,’ Vision calmly remarked. ‘They think they can tamper with Jarudha’s great power.’
‘All men think that,’ said Emerald on Vision’s left.
‘Any word from our colleagues?’ Vision asked.
‘We’ve heard nothing from Faith,’ Silverlight reported. ‘Onyx sent a brief note that he is with the Kerwyn Warlord.’
‘These are dangerous times,’ said Emerald.
‘All times are dangerous until the world is returned to Paradise,’ Vision replied, paraphrasing scripture. ‘We took risks getting this king onto his throne. We’ll take risks now to determine whether or not he stays there. Worldly politics cannot interfere with Jarudha’s greater plan.’
‘Diamond was right when he argued that we need to ensure stability in the leadership of this world before we can finish our work,’ Silverlight reminded them. ‘This incessant bickering between kings interferes with our holy mission.’
‘Look!’
The Seers followed Weaver’s pointing finger. The eastern perimeter of the city seemed to be catching alight as flames silently leapt into view, one after another, starting in the north and spreading to the south. ‘The Kerwyn are going to destroy everything,’ said Emerald. ‘They will destroy the city and the temples we’ve consecrated for the people.’
‘“All will be destroyed when the Demon Horsemen cleanse the world”,’ Vision recited. ‘This is just a taste of what is to come.’ He faced the Seers. ‘Hope and Vale are talking with the King, preparing him for whatever outcome seems most likely. If Onyx and Faith can do the same with the Kerwyn king and leaders we have only to manage them all and our ends will be achieved. Send the acolytes out to stay in the city temples and hold daily prayers with the common people. Tell them to make the people pray at sunrise, midday and sunset for the liberation of the followers of Jarudha from the oppression of the warmongers and instil in them passivity towards the war so that they take no sides when the battle is being resolved. That way whoever wins will have a supporting population among our true believers and we can offer this to both kings. Jarudha has given me the vision to see a way for us to do His work through these plans.’
Three more explosions ripped through the Farmers’ Quarter. ‘The people will suffer greatly,’ said Emerald.
‘The people are all sinners and will perish in the cleansing before Paradise is rebuilt,’ said Vision. ‘Remember, my brother, that they are merely an instrument in the greater plan.’
‘Your Eminence?’ called an acolyte.
Vision acknowledged the young man. ‘Well, River?’
‘Your Eminence, there is a messenger who says he has important news for you.’
‘Who from?’
‘Your Eminence, a merchant,’ River replied. ‘But he wouldn’t say any more to me. He said it concerns a matter close to Your Eminence’s heart.’
Vision glanced at his colleagues before he said, ‘Tell him I will be down immediately. Take him to my study.’ River bowed and withdrew.
‘So who is the secret visitor?’ Weaver asked. Another thunderclap exploded in the Farmers’ Quarter.
Vision allowed a smile to grace his lips as he replied enigmatically, ‘Someone who might have solved Reason’s dilemma.’
The Kerwyn pouring through the streets were setting fire to every building, driving the terrified citizens before them like wallabies before a bushfire. Where they could, Cutter’s soldiers were halting the enemy’s advance, but there were too many streets and alleys to defend and too many Kerwyn to make the resistance effective. Cutter’s biggest concern was orchestrating the defence without losing men trapped in pockets while the Kerwyn tide washed around them. He had messengers running frantically through the streets, relaying orders and requests and reporting on the Kerwyn progress, and he knew that he was steadily losing the River and Southern Quarters of the city. ‘They’re burning the workshops and factories along Foundry Road,’ a soot-covered messenger reported. ‘Shieldmaster Cooper is retreating, Warmaster, and says that he will get his men over the river as soon as possible.’ Cutter assessed the situation quickly. Retreat across the River of Kings was the best option, with only King’s Bridge and the Prince’s Bridge to defend and the river a solid barrier to the Kerwyn, but that would mean abandoning more than half the city to the enemy—an unpalatable outcome. ‘What should I tell Shieldmaster Cooper, Warmaster?’
‘Tell him to do what he plans. I’ll have the Leaders hold their positions along this flank until the Foundry Quarter is empty, but if Cooper can’t get through tell him to take his troops to the Bogpit and defend it. That should buy them some time.’
The messenger disappeared into the smoke and darkness. Cutter turned to Shieldmaster Riverrushes, who had accompanied him since his promotion, and said, ‘Get messages to all of the Leaders to begin a fighting withdrawal across King’s Bridge. Tell them to stay in contact with each Group as much as possible. We don’t want anyone stranded and captured. And send word to Marchlord Bo
lt to abandon the Farmers’ Quarter. We can’t hold the Kerwyn back on this side of the river.’
As Riverrushes began organising messengers, two buildings to the left of Cutter’s entourage exploded. ‘Thunderclaps!’ someone yelled. Cutter fought his rearing horse, spinning in the haze of smoke, as Shessian soldiers retreated along the street. Shadowy figures loomed through the smoke, bearing blazing torches that were tossed left and right onto buildings, making their advance more spectacular as the buildings caught fire. ‘Hold your ground!’ Cutter yelled to his men and drew his sword. ‘Stop them right here!’
His booming command halted the retreat and someone yelled, ‘To the Warmaster!’ The Shessian soldiers regrouped, forming a solid line in the face of the advancing Kerwyn, their dirt and smoke-stained features shifting and changing in the flickering firelight as the city burned around them. Arrows whispered and men screamed as the missiles buried into flesh.
‘Return fire!’ Cutter cried and Shessian arrows shot into the inferno. Then the Kerwyn shadows ignited in puffs of fire as their thundermakers boomed, the tiny metal balls crashing into the Shessian soldiers. Cutter understood why his men were in retreat at this point. Without thundermakers to reply the battle was lopsided folly. The only hope was surprise. ‘Charge them!’ he bellowed above the din and the Shessian line wavered, broke and charged into the Kerwyn ranks. Cutter urged his horse into the fray.
Firelight danced on the dark River of Kings water, lending a golden beauty to the tragedy of the battle. Shessian thundermakers boomed along the bridge, their tiny projectiles whistling into the night, and Kerwyn thundermakers replied, the thwack and clunk of their metal pellets echoing along the bridge’s barricade and wood-and-stone framework. The thunderclap bombardment ceased, the Kerwyn having secured the Farmers’, River, Southern and Foundry quarters with the retreat of Cutter’s troops, but sections of the eastern and southern portions of the city were still burning fiercely. Shieldmaster Cooper’s men never made it out of the Foundry Quarter and occasional distant sounds of thundermakers on the southern side of the bay suggested that Cooper was ensconced in the Bogpit, desperately fighting to defend it.
Cutter winced and swore as the surgeon’s tweezers extracted the metal ball from his shoulder. ‘Just a few stitches, Warmaster, and you’ll be back in the action,’ the surgeon reassured him. Cutter was already annoyed that the bandaging across his forehead felt loose enough that it threatened to slide over his eyes, despite his requests for the surgeon to tighten it. Being unable to fight while the thundermaker wound healed only aggravated him further. He sat impatiently as the surgeon mopped up the blood by lanternlight and began to pack the pellet hole, gritting his teeth whenever the pain was intense.
More than half the city was lost and thousands of frightened people packed into the area hoping that Warmaster Cutter would save them from the rampaging Kerwyn. The terrifying tales of the atrocities and genocide policy practised in the country regions during the invasion were well known—refugees had circulated the truths and the myths—and now, with the imminent fall of Port of Joy, people were begging to be spared from their brutal fate. Everyone knew of someone put to the sword, or women who’d been raped like animals, or children sold into slavery to foreign traders. The Kerwyn were remorseless barbarians. ‘Excuse me, Warmaster,’ a young man’s voice intervened.
‘Yes?’ Cutter growled, his frustration bubbling over.
‘Shipmaster Dockman sent me to report that the ships are ready to take on people, Warmaster.’
Cutter looked up at the young sailor in the lanternlight. Over the sailor’s shoulder, beyond the fires of the burning city, the sky was lightening as patches of grey spread along the distant peaks. ‘Are the thundermaker ships in position?’ he asked.
‘Yes, Warmaster.’
‘Then tell Dockman that I will send people down to the boats immediately—women and children. Each boatload of women and children will have three men for protection.’
‘Yes, Warmaster,’ the sailor acknowledged.
‘There are a lot of people,’ said Cutter, tiredness tainting his voice. ‘Ask the Shipmaster to send me a message when the ships are full.’
‘Yes, Warmaster,’ the sailor repeated.
Cutter dismissed the young man, thanked the surgeon for his work and asked his bodyguards to give him a few moments of peace before he rose and left the building commandeered that night as his temporary command post. It was a shoemaker’s shop and the shoemaker, his wife and his four children were still in the back room, hiding in vain from a war that was inexorably descending upon them.
Exhausted from the night’s fighting, his injuries and the constant pressure of decision-making, Cutter wanted a brief opportunity to assess the situation quietly before he decided on his next strategy, so he avoided the soldiers who acknowledged him as he passed, listening attentively instead to the sounds of battle as he headed for the King’s palace and the watchtowers from where he could see the city in its entirety. The streets were crowded with people who’d fled over the river to escape the Kerwyn. Some called to him, recognising the man meant to be their saviour—others stared silently, especially children, their faces illuminated by torches and small fires lit by people wanting warmth and security. Groups huddled against buildings and in alleys, most people sleeping, and Cutter was surprised at the number and variety of dogs wandering through the crowd. The Royal Elite Guards stood aside to let him through the palace gates before closing them again to stop the common people entering, and he waved aside attempts to greet him or accompany him as he headed for the south-western watchtower that had the best view.
He emerged on the upper parapet, where he was greeted by the three Elite Guards on duty, and stood at the wall, gazing east. The dawn was steadily creeping across the mountains separating Western Shess from The Valley of Kings, the peaks beginning to grow yellow and the thin line of grey turning blue. A shadowy pelican circled above the bay at the height of the watchtower and Cutter watched the big black-and-white bird slowly descend towards the water. Directly south, across the bay, flames lit the buildings to the east of the Bogpit and the Bogpit itself was on fire. Cooper and the men were trapped and in trouble. Has he released the prisoners? Cutter wondered. And who would the prisoners fight for if they were given that choice? The factories, workshops and houses of the Foundry Quarter were ablaze and the dark waves of the bay where the Shessian ships rocked in the swell were glowing with gold reflections of the burning city.
To the west the ocean was shrouded beneath a thick fog bank and in that fog Cutter knew there was a vast Kerwyn fleet waiting for the Shessian ships to make a break for freedom. A flotilla of Shessian ships sat at anchor just outside the bay, forming a defensive line against the Kerwyn, their hulls lined with the large thundermakers that had successfully routed the first Kerwyn blockade before the season of Shahk. The Seers’ magic was the only certainty standing between safety and disaster for the people of the city. As prepared as Cutter was to defy the Kerwyn army’s efforts to conquer Port of Joy, he was a realist. Eventually the Kerwyn would prevail so his best hope was to hold out long enough to get as many people out of the city as possible.
He shifted his gaze back towards the Northern Quarter where the Port of Joy refugees clustered for protection. He needed the King to rally the people. He needed the Seers to use their magic. He needed a miracle from Jarudha.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Meg crouched in the mallee, surrounded by the smell of eucalypts, Whisper at her feet, A Ahmud Ki three paces away on his stomach. Approaching along the bush track were eleven Kerwyn warriors, most wearing ochre-red leather breastplates and carrying spears. Two carried thundermakers. At the rear a Kerwyn warrior led two bullocks pulling a wagon of goods and behind the wagon walked two more warriors. She hated this moment before the attack, the tension, the adrenaline bursting to be released. She hated knowing that in a moment men might die if they acted stupidly. She saw the flicker of leaves across the track and into the op
en walked Wombat, Dark and four more Shessian men, armed. Meg stood. So did A Ahmud Ki. As the startled Kerwyn reacted by taking defensive stances, more Shessian men appeared along the side of the track and behind the Kerwyn. ‘Put down your weapons!’ Meg ordered in the Kerwyn tongue. A man with a thundermaker lowered it to take aim, but before he bent his eye to the sight a bolt of fiery energy tore through his shoulder. He screamed, dropped the thundermaker and collapsed, clutching his wound. ‘I won’t ask again,’ Meg warned as the Kerwyn shuffled fearfully. Outnumbered, surrounded and facing the mad witch they’d heard about around the campfires, the Kerwyn dropped their weapons. Meg sighed with relief.
Distribution of the sacks of food finished, Saltsack Carter crossed the campsite to join Meg, Talemaker and A Ahmud Ki. ‘Enough for six days this time,’ he announced.
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