The Cerberus Rebellion (A Griffins & Gunpowder Novel)

by Joshua Johnson

  The guards moved forward to form a shield around Roland and his mount, protecting him as they moved through the center of Agilard City. The low half-wall that separated the outer city from the merchant’s district was guarded by another string of guards. The gates were open, but the crowds were held at bay by stern looking sergeants in the black and red uniforms of the Agilard Duchy.

  “Apologies, Sir,” Aren Falk said after they had passed through the gates and into the merchant district. “The crowds have become difficult to manage.”

  Roland glanced over his shoulder at the crowds still gathered outside of the gate. “How many refugees have we taken in?” he asked.

  “At last count, two hundred thousand,” Aren reported. “And that’s the ones that declared themselves. There are many that came in earlier, as merchants or travelers, and decided that leaving wasn’t in their best interest. Your father’s bread program is helping, but there just isn’t enough food to go around.”

  “They should have left the city before the siege,” Roland mused as they rode past a particularly large villa. A handful of mercenaries stood watch along the small fence surrounding the complex. “At least outside of the city they wouldn’t have to deal with those conditions.”

  “They were warned, my lord,” Aren said. “A few left, but not enough to improve things.”

  “Perhaps they will come to some use if the walls are breached.” Roland led his guards past a series of warehouses and into the shadow of Hellhound Keep. The structure loomed large in the faltering evening light; torches burned along the outer wall and in the towers. “Put a gun in their hands and they’ll be dangerous, at least until they need to reload.”

  “A good plan, my lord.”

  Magnus Jarmann was waiting inside the steel gates, his closest advisors clustered around him. “I’m glad to see that you made it back safely,” he said.

  “We spiked all of the garrison guns,” Roland said as he swung down out of his saddle. “There was some trouble as we rode back, but nothing we couldn’t handle.”

  “The guards passed word,” Magnus said. He walked with a slight limp and he seemed to have aged by decades in less than half a year. His eyes carried the disappointment that only he could understand. “Come, we have much to discuss.”

  Magnus led Roland and his other advisors into Hellhound Castle. Even the castle had become crowded. The lesser lords of the Agilard Duchy had retreated within the castle; most had brought their families and servants. The guest rooms were past full and the servant quarters had spilled out into the storerooms and passageways of the lower castle. Magnus picked his way through the crowded floors and led the others to the main council chamber.

  Alger Greenbow was already seated at his customary place. His right arm was wrapped in bandages and hung in a sling. He had been in command of Fort Sigurd before it too had been abandoned. His face was grim, his eyes fixed on his clasped hands.

  “I saw Fort Sigurd burning,” Roland said as he took his seat.

  “Explosive round hit one of the powder magazines,” Alger said, not looking up from the table. “Set half of the fort on fire.”

  “Were you able to spike the guns?”

  “Those that weren’t blown up by the magazine,” the elder noble said with a small nod.

  “All of our forts, save those in the harbor, have been abandoned. Nearly all of the garrison cannons have been spiked,” Magnus said. “Fort Rotham’s magazines were left half full; we couldn’t get the wagons past their field guns.”

  “That’s unfortunate,” Roland said. “With the rail lines destroyed, they’ll be having trouble bringing in powder and shot.”

  “We’ll just have to make due with the hand that we’re dealt,” Magnus said. “I want the field guns positioned to counter any attacks from the west. We know that Eadric was among the camps in the Gerich, he’ll be attacking from there.”

  “Our field guns aren’t going to do much against their heavy cannons, Your Grace,” Alger said. “They’ll either dig out more trenches or use the ruins of our fortresses for cover. Fort Sigurd is well within range of their fifteen pound guns.”

  “We’ll have to take that risk,” Magnus said. “We will not surrender this city without a fight, Gentlemen.”

  Chapter 28 - Magnus

  Magnus and Roland stood on the bulwarks of Hellhound Castle and looked out over what had been Agilard City. The walls, built centuries before gunpowder, had held up poorly against the heavy field artillery that Eadric had brought. The walls were crumbling, the outer parts of the city had been abandoned by the masses, and fires raged along the edge, near the walls.

  “They’ll be attacking soon,” Magnus said. Eadric would not hold back for long. Each breach in the outer wall strengthened the hand of their attacker and provided another entry point to the city.

  “There’s no doubt of that,” Roland said. “But we’ll be ready for them. They can only pour so many soldiers through those gaps; we’ve got five regiments positioned throughout the city.”

  Magnus grimaced. As much as he wanted his son with him at the end, it would mean death for his heir. “You won’t be here when Eadric attacks,” he said after a long pause.

  “Father?”

  “You must carry on the family line,” Magnus continued. “You’ll be taking your mother, brothers, and sister aboard the last of our ships. Three of our regiments will join you on your journey across the Vast Sea. You will make your way to the Rhonish city-states and establish yourself there.”

  “Father, send mother and the others, but my place is by your side.”

  “No, Roland, your place is taking your family to safety. The other boys are not old enough to command what is left of our army. And our friends in Rhon will not respect anyone but the true heir to the throne of Kerberos.”

  “Without those soldiers, the city will surely fall.”

  “It will fall with or without those soldiers,” Magnus said. “Eadric has more than a hundred thousand soldiers outside of our walls. Even if we were to give muskets to every able-bodied man and woman, it would only stall the inevitable.”

  “This is not the right choice, Father,” Roland argued. “Give muskets to every man and woman. With your soldiers as the core, we may be able to inflict enough losses that Eadric reconsiders his attacks.”

  “And instead, he’ll starve us.” Magnus shook his head. “His fleet controls the Straits of Steimor. We could survive for a while on supplies brought in from Steimor and Beldane, but eventually we would run out of gold or good will. Then what?”

  “We could hold for a long time. Maybe the western nobles would be able to cause enough trouble that Eadric would be drawn away.”

  “There are too many ‘ifs’ and ‘maybes’ in your thinking,” Magnus said. “My decision is made. I’ve already given every enlisted soldier the choice of staying to fight or leaving with the fleet. Those who wish to remain will be allowed to do so. When you arrive in Rhon, you can use our regiments to establish a mercenary legion. You and your siblings will want for nothing with the money that a well trained legion can command on contracts.”

  “What of our citizens? Shouldn’t we be concerned with their safety?”

  “The refugees will be given the option to fight if they wish. Those that don’t will be safely stowed away in our temples and forums. Even Eadric would not be so foolish as to slaughter civilians who give no resistance. A few of our more wealthy citizens will accompany you. Those with connections in Steimor and the Rhonish city-states.”

  “You can’t be serious,” Roland said.

  Magnus shook his head. His son was as stubborn as he was, but with the passion of his Garrard bloodline. His son would do as he was told, but he would fight every minute before that.

  “How many ships do we have in the Harbor that can make the journey to the Anvil?” Magnus asked.

  “Twelve frigates, seven or eight sloops, and maybe ten schooners,” Roland answered. “A handful of the smaller ships are stragglers fr
om the Straits; they may not be able to make the journey at full speed.”

  “You’ll need to make the run between Black Isle and Jarmann Isle,” Magnus continued. “We still hold the forts along the interior, but with the coastal fortresses abandoned the Ansgari ships will be filling the harbor. You’ll likely have to fight your way through them to the channel.”

  “Father—”

  “Roland,” Magnus interrupted, his voice stern, “we both know that you will not disobey my orders, so can we cut the charade and get the details out of the way?”

  “We will discuss my travel arrangements later, if you wish. In the mean time, I think that you’re right about the channel. The north and south passages will be much too dangerous to make the run at. But the Ansgari won’t know that,” Roland said. “They’ll have their ships spread across the entire harbor, outside of the range of our coastal guns.”

  “Once you’re through the channel, you’ll need to make best speed across the Straits.”

  “Wouldn’t it be better to make for the Isles and cross the Vast Sea?” Roland asked. “There are no rail lines that run from the Anvil to Rhon. It will take months to make that march and we’ve not the supplies to do so.”

  “Until Eadric puts his focus back on the western nobles, the straits will not be safe. The trip overland will be long, especially with a train of soldiers and merchants behind you, but the ships can put up the flags of Steimor or Beldane. Without evidence, the Ansgari ships can do nothing to them.”

  “The ships will reach the city-states far sooner than the land contingent,” Roland pointed out. “Perhaps they could pick up some work at Pisor or Idis while they wait.”

  Magnus nodded.

  The city-states of Rhon had once been a unified republic, led by the city of Rhon. When the republic had collapsed, the cities had been left to fend for themselves. Without an industry to speak of, the city-states had turned to the only thing they knew: mercenaries. Their legions were famous across the face of Zaria for their abilities and the strong regulation provided by the city-states. But they focused mainly on land-based contracts; there were always contracts available for an ambitious captain.

  “I want our remaining gold supply and armories loaded aboard the ships,” Magnus said. “You can rent out a warehouse when you arrive.”

  The Black Mountain rifled-muskets had no rival on the far side of the world. The minerals extracted from Ansgari mines were higher quality than anything in the south, leading to better steel. The craftsmen at Black Mountain had the advantage of centuries of tradition and years of training behind their weapons; their firearms sold for twice as much as their worth on the far side of the world.

  “Rorik will accompany you,” Magnus continued.

  “He wasn’t happy about that I imagine,” Roland said with a small smile.

  Rorik had served as the personal bodyguard to the king since his sixteenth year. He had served with distinction and had brought honor to his family. He had argued vehemently to be allowed to stay with the king to the end; Magnus had held firm on his orders. Rorik would be the best suited to protect Roland in the trials he would face: the bodyguard had the intuition to know what where the real danger was and the experience to act on it.

  “No, he wasn’t at all, but like you, he will do as he is told.”

  Chapter 29 - Roland

  Roland clutched the rail at the rear of the ship as it cut through the dark night. Fires raged along the shores and throughout the city of Agilard as the remnants of the Kerberosi fleet attempted to make their escape into the open ocean.

  The time had not been right to try to throw off the yoke of oppression laid upon them by the Ansgari people. The rebellion of the western nobles had forced their hand before they were in a position to reinforce themselves. His father had no choice but to make his declarations when he did. If he had waited he would have been forced to call his full levies and send them against the western nobles. It would have been more detrimental to the Kerberosi independence effort in the long run.

  In that moment, Roland had finally realized that they would not be able to defeat the Ansgari army. Until then, he had been supremely confident in the better weapons and stronger resolve of the Kerberosi armies. His overconfidence shamed him and he wondered, not for the first time since their rebellion had taken a turn for the worse, if he had offered his father wise council or if he had merely reinforced his father’s opinion of their odds.

  Perhaps we were all much too overconfident, Roland thought as he watched another fire spring up in the old quarter of Agilard City.

  House Jarmann had ruled over Kerberos for more than three thousand years. He would not be the first to live and die as a mere commoner. The weapons and gold in the holds of his vessels would go a long way toward securing contracts with some of the larger mercenary outfits in Rhon. Once he had a large enough army, Roland would lead them back to Kerberos and liberate his people and his throne from the clutches of Eadric.

  “Milord.” Captain Aldo Daman broke Roland’s concentration. For a naval captain, he was on the heavy side. He shaved his head bald but had let his red beard grow thick and tangled. “The Broken Spear has spotted a pair of Ansgari frigates.”

  “Send the word forward. Order the Spear, the Starlight and the Dominance to form a wedge and push through the enemy ships,” Roland ordered as he turned toward the front of the ship. His right hand found the signet ring that hung from his neck and he rubbed the raised three-headed hellhound on its flat surface.

  He had ordered the three frigates with empty holds to lead the way to the channel. Their loss would hurt his combat power, but the rifled muskets and gold held in the bottoms of the other vessels were more important to the long term survival of the Kerberosi resistance. Smaller ships could have been placed at the front of the order of battle, but they would have no chance against the much larger Ansgari frigates.

  Roland’s own Eastern Honor was the last frigate in the order of battle, followed by a gaggle of much swifter sloops and schooners. He hoped that there would only be the two frigates trying to block their escape, but that was overly optimistic.

  By now, Eadric had to know that his sister and her children had fled the city and there was only one way out: the ships. Roland had briefly considered disobeying his father and challenging his uncle to a duel. Someone challenged by a man of the same level of nobility could not refuse the challenge. His uncle was a trained marksman, but Roland was faster and had seen combat.

  Rorik Karsten had convinced him that the decision was a poor one and that his father had made a hard choice sending his family away while he faced certain death.

  Rorik stood behind Roland now, arms crossed over his chest as he too watched Agilard City succumb to the fires set by pillaging Ansgari soldiers. He had many friends and subordinates still in the city, protecting their king from the invaders. They had to know, as he did, that their attempts to protect the king would be in vain with the city fallen, but still they had refused to join Rorik on the ships.

  “Your Grace, we should go below,” Rorik said. “The battle will be joined soon and I cannot protect you from cannon fire.”

  “No, I will command my ship,” Roland replied. “It’s the least I can do for my people.

  Chapter 30 - Eadric

  Eadric stepped through the wide doors and into the Kerberosi throne room. The hall was much smaller than his own, and it was decorated far more conservatively. Instead of the opulent tapestries and chandeliers that hung from the ceiling in Founder’s Keep, Hellhound Castle displayed the shields of warriors past and paintings that depicted their once glorious nation.

  Now, however, Kerberos was just a failed rebellion that been put down by superior training and greater experience.

  For three days the final fights had raged; rebel forces had hidden throughout the city and ambushed any Ansgari forces too small to defend themselves.

  When the last pockets of resistance had finally been crushed, Eadric’s guards had allowed h
im to enter the city to pass final judgment on Magnus Jarmann and the other nobles. A handful of the Kerberosi nobles had so far escaped the grasp of Eadric’s armies and he doubted that they would ever be captured. Many of them had fled into Beldane or across the Straits of Steimor.

  Eadric lowered himself onto the hard wooden seat that served as the throne of Kerberos and looked around at the gathered crowd. Kerberosi lesser lords, their eyes downcast and their expressions somber; Ansgari nobles and generals, jubilant in their victory over a menacing foe; ambassadors from Beldane and Steimor, their expressions neutral, uncaring for the fate of the Kerberosi.

  Altavius Dohr’s son, Sinclair, stood at Eadric’s left elbow with several scrolls in hand. His father was no longer able to make the long journey from Aetheston to Agilard and so had sent his successor to advise the king. He was only a fraction of his father’s age, but he showed promise. His sapphire eyes held wisdom beyond his years and his skills in the arts of the Lifebinders was greater than Eadric would have expected.

  At Eadric’s right elbow stood Kendall Shield. He gripped the handle of Guardian with both hands and held it in front of him as a symbol of his power. Many other Shields were spread throughout the room and Eadric spared a glance at the main entrance to ensure that no less than ten of his guards stood inside it.

  “Your Grace, a report from Admiral Tallert is first on the list,” Sinclair Dohr whispered in the King’s ear.

  “Come forward, Lord Admiral,” Eadric instructed. The aging commander of the Ansgari fleet stepped out from the crowd confidently. “Have any ships escaped the harbor?”

  “Your Grace, I regret to inform you that nine frigates accompanied by sloops and schooners were able to escape during your conquest of the city. They moved in force and knew that we did not hold the channel between Black Isle and Jarmann Isle.”

  “How many ships did you sink in their attempt?”