by James Somers
They weren’t fast, by any means, but that wouldn’t change the fact that they would reach Wayland’s capital much faster than the rest of the army. And if Mordred had devised these new craft for his attack, then there must be a great deal of danger in them. Gideon watched them, fascinated, for a moment longer before realizing that all of the small villages he had seen during his trek here would certainly be destroyed as the ground army moved toward the main city.
Thirty floating, flying Man-o-wars passed out of sight beyond the trees as the Anakims continued their labor below, allowing the ground army to make headway toward Evelah. Gideon had only one choice. He had to ride as fast as he could in order to reach each village and warn them in time to escape. Before the swords of this army, there would be no one spared, no pity, and no remorse.
Gideon hadn’t been as fast as he had hoped. He’d not been close to the road leading back into Wayland, opting for a vantage point on the Isthmus where he could better see what was in the bay. That advantage had cost him his ability to get ahead of the surging front of Mordred’s forces.
Still, under the cover of the forest, Gideon had managed to pass the slower progress of the giant Anakims as they moved a great swathe of trees from the path of the army following behind them. But cavalry had ridden ahead of everyone else and were already plundering the first village in their path when Gideon arrived on horseback.
Many bodies of the villagers lay strewn in the road among the two dozen or so common structures, some of which had been set ablaze already. The hybrid soldiers were busy killing everything that moved. Mordred would have no use for prisoners, only the cattle and horses that might be added to his army’s stores.
As Gideon breached the tree line, he nocked and released arrows in rapid succession until his quiver was spent. Each broad-head shaft found its mark true, leaving more than a dozen ponies running wild without their riders. Still wearing most of his stolen Wayland armor, Gideon drew quick attention to himself among the villagers running terrified around him.
Two riders approached from among several huts already burning. Both of them archers, they drew and released arrows at Gideon. He backhanded the first away and caught the second in the same hand. He felt alive again, renewed, forgiven.
Gideon knocked the arrow and returned it to the rider who had shot it at him. He drew his sword as the second rider drove his horse hard toward him. Gideon waited for the man to swing, fell backward in his saddle to dodge the broadsword, then followed through by rolling backward off the hind quarters of his horse, coming to stand below the other rider. Before the hybrid soldier realized where he was, Gideon struck him in stomach from below. The rider sagged in his saddle, trying to fall, but his boot remained lodged as his terrified horse dragged him away from the village.
Only a few riders remained. Most of them had realized by now that their fellows were dropping like flies. They ignored the villagers and came at Gideon head on. He ran on foot to meet them. Each of the three raised their swords, preparing to strike him down.
Gideon raised his own blade over his head and sent it spinning toward the rider on his left. The sword hit the hybrid square in the chest, knocking him from his mount. Gideon dodged to his left side, as the others closed in, retrieving the soldier’s sword as it tumbled to the ground from his hands. He whipped around and slung that sword at the second rider, catching the hybrid in the side.
Gideon retrieved his own sword from the chest of the first as the third rider came at him. However the soldier had second thoughts after seeing how his fellows had faired. He pulled up short, leered at Gideon and then rode hard back down the road toward Mordred’s advancing army. They wouldn’t be far behind now.
As he surveyed the damage, Gideon realized he’d come too late to save most of the villagers. Only a few could be found weeping among their fallen loved ones. He procured a fresh horse and heaved himself into the saddle. “Mordred’s army is on its way!” he called to anyone left who might listen. “In moments this place will be reduced to rubble! You must get away!”
Gideon turned his horse to the dirt road leading back into Wayland. With a kick of his heels to the animal’s sides, they broke into a gallop. At least, he might have a chance to warn the other villages which still stood between Mordred’s army and Wayland’s king.
DEADLY RAIN
Ethan had helped some of the priests to secure their ailing High Priest in a secluded chamber within the Wayland Temple. The man appeared to be nearly a hundred years old, barely skin and bones left to him. He was surprised someone had not formally replaced him, but apparently it was not the way things were done. For all his years, Isaiah still remained vital, and Ethan hoped the man would stand as his own High Priest for years to come.
He and Seth and the other Nodian Order priests had spent several hours drilling the men of Wayland’s Temple. Much improvement had been made despite their initial resistance to being told what to do by foreigners. They simply had no time left to prepare.
Levi had taken it upon himself to organize what weapons he could from their armory, passing Ethan once again with a trolley full of swords, crossbows, and gunpowder kegs. He paused long enough to giggle, saying, “Who would have thought they would have this stuff here?” He went on his way muttering about each grain of the stuff being worth far more than gold for whatever he had in store. Ethan couldn’t be sure since The Order here had no cannon to speak of. Still, Bonifast was notorious for his ingenuity if nothing else.
Ethan found Isaiah and Seth with Emory in one of the main halls of the Temple. They were arguing amongst one another, when Ethan joined them.
“Despite my agreeing with you completely, we really have no choice in the matter,” Emory said to an exasperated Isaiah. “We are bound to do the King’s will and he’s made it clear.”
“What’s going on?” Ethan asked.
“The King has requested—” Seth began.
“Demanded is more like it,” Isaiah cut in.
“—that his royal guard be assembled,” Seth said.
“What’s so bad about that?”
Isaiah barely controlled his fury. “The problem is that he’s demanding a bodyguard of one hundred of The Order’s finest warriors.” He looked at Emory, disgusted. “Apparently they are under contract, with His Majesty, to provide exactly that.”
“It’s been that way since before I even joined The Order, Master Isaiah,” Emory explained. “There’s nothing I can do about it.”
“But that’s nearly a third of the warrior-priests available here,” Ethan said.
“Yes, and they’ll all be needed desperately on the frontlines when Mordred attacks,” Isaiah said hotly.
Emory shrugged his shoulders. “I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I can do, truly.”
An hour later, Ethan watched with the others as one hundred of the Wayland Order’s priests marched in their priestly robes, outfitted with swords and bows, toward King Stephen’s palace several miles away.
“It’s a mistake, what the King is doing,” Seth said.
“It may be one of his last,” Isaiah added.
Ethan simply watched them go. He thought, probably, that one hundred men, even priests of Shaddai, would make very little difference, when considered against the size of Mordred’s forces. He wondered very much if these Wayland priests would fare well at all against the hybrid soldiers. The giant Anakims were an altogether bigger problem, to say the least. One strike from their great arms would dash half a dozen men to the ground.
As he stood there wondering how they might possibly put up a fight against Mordred’s army, an odd shadow and then another, passed over them. Ethan turned to find something he had never seen before—never even fathomed. A Man-o-war sailing ship drifted over the Temple suspended in the air by what appeared to be great tents of sail cloth. It remained as silent as a cloud except for the occasional groaning of the wood.
Ethan stood there on the Temple balcony stunned by this odd bird, until Isaiah threw him to the gro
und. He noticed Seth go down as well, then he heard the great explosion nearby. A section of the roof, higher up, mushroomed out in a gout of flame heaving ceiling tiles, wood, and concrete over them in a great wave which tumbled down, landing in the courtyard below.
More explosions followed in rapid succession, deafening them as debris rained down upon them from every direction. Ethan scrambled to his feet, realizing they must flee.
“Grenades!” Seth shouted as he helped Isaiah to his feet again.
Man-o-wars filled the sky over Evelah in mere moments while their crews dropped round grenades down upon the city. The fuses streaked white smoke behind them, trailing down, down until they tumbled onto roofs and exploded. Minutes into the attack the streets were filled with people scrambling for any cover they could find from the deadly rain.
The floating Man-o-wars continued southeast across the city in a line strafing everything in their path. Buildings exploded. Many already had been leveled and more burned. The King’s soldiers patrolling the streets tried to fire crossbows back at their attackers with little effect. The ships were simply too high up.
Ethan, Isaiah and Seth ran back through the Temple. At least one of the ships had remained overhead trying to pummel Shaddai’s Wayland Temple into dust. Shockwaves rattled the entire structure as plaster and glass shot away from walls.
Deeper and deeper into the Temple they ran, trying to escape the onslaught from above. “If we stay in here we’ll all be killed,” Isaiah said.
“I think that’s the idea,” Seth said as he followed down one of the broad staircases. The priests were running about like ants, trying to save themselves, but no one really knew where safety could be found.
“We’ve got to stop those ships,” Ethan said. “I can go on my own faster.”
Isaiah looked reluctant to separate, but conceded, finally, as another blast shook the building. “Watch over him, Seth,” Ethan said.
Seth nodded. “Hurry, but stay safe.”
Ethan shifted out of physical sight and launched out of the Temple through the crumbling walls into the sky, heading for the ship circling above them. As soon as he reached the ship, a pack of demons came upon him.
Ethan defended himself, dispatched three of the malevolent spirits, then dropped back into the physical world out of their sight, landing on the deck. Immediately, a dozen hybrid soldiers descended upon him from the rigging while others continued their work bombing the city below.
He took his sword, procured from the armory of Wayland’s Temple and struck down the first two with little trouble. With the hybrids vital organ strikes yielded faster results. Even hybrids still had to walk in physical bodies. As soon as the third hybrid was struck through the heart, Ethan tried to slash some of the lines connecting the ship to its balloons.
Fire bellowed hot air into sail cloth from coal stoves below. Ethan had seen leaves catch the wind from a fire and shoot into the air high above the flames. He’d also heard Mr. Howinger speak of birds riding currents of hot air and supposed this must be based upon the same thing. If he could only cut the ship free from the rigging nets, it would plummet out of the sky and be smashed to pieces on the streets of Evelah below. Not a pleasant prospect for the citizens beneath them, but better than bombed to death from above.
Ethan struck the ropes and saw the hemp lines scrape away, revealing metal cables beneath. No wonder these can hold an entire Man-o-war aloft! He tried again, but his sword only bounced away. “Great!” he said, then shifted to the spiritual plane. He’d seen the demons searching, but he had no choice. As soon as he became visible to them again they surged toward him with their weapons ready.
Ethan pulled his ethereal sword and whipped it fast into the cable. It cut through the cable like it wasn’t even there. The Man-o-war buckled as the support gave way. The demons attacked and Ethan had to shift back to the physical in time to escape them again. He leaped past more hybrid soldiers then shifted again and cut another support.
Over and over again he played the mouse to many cats until the entire stern section fell away from its support balloon. The bow section couldn’t maintain the full weight of the ship and snapped. Ethan, still in the physical, fell with the ship as it plummeted. The Man-o-war dropped vertically into one of the larger buildings in the city.
One of the hybrids grabbed him, looking for anything to hold onto as they fell. The impact threw them apart as the entire deck shattered next to them. Ethan managed to shift again while the hybrid fell away into the storm of fragmented lumber exploding all around them. One ship down, too many more to go.
AHOY!
Levi twisted the fuses tight and linked them securely with the roll of fuse material in his hand. He ran back toward the main gate of Evelah as some of the king’s soldiers waved him on hurriedly. “We’ve not got all day!” they shouted, impatient to have the walls secure well before the arrival of Mordred’s army.
The spool unwound in his hand as he jogged back toward the waiting guards. Levi watched carefully as the gate was lowered down into position again, wanting to be sure that the gate didn’t actually cut the line. It seemed all right. The guards did not wait to see any of Levi’s further preparations. They shot up the stone stairway leading to the top of the wall. Every man that could be mustered to the city’s defense had been called to service by Stephen in the hours following the news of the coming siege.
Men were still coming from villages and towns nearby, while couriers had been sent on horseback with the hope of rounding up as many more as possible. According to Wayland Law, every able bodied male above the age of fifteen was required to answer the King’s summons to war. The penalty for not doing so was death.
As Levi came back within the city, he noticed one small barrel of gunpowder still left unused. He’d begun with nearly fifty barrels, but had put them to good use both outside the wall and before the king’s palace. He picked up the last with a smile. “You look lonely, little fella. I’ll have to find a job for you.”
He noticed a large group of priests marching toward the palace down the main road. They were all wearing the light armor worn by Wayland’s Order and carrying various weapons with them. He ran from the wall to intercept them.
“Hello, men! where are you all going?” Levi asked as he caught up with the last of the group. A few of the last in the line paused to answer him.
“We’ve been conscripted by King Stephen as his personal guard,” one of them said.
“Personal guard?” Levi asked. “Why in the world would The Order of Shaddai be operating in that capacity? I thought your first business was protecting Shaddai’s Word and the Temple?”
“It’s been a longstanding agreement with the Royal House,” another said. “Besides, who would you rather have guarding you, the King’s soldiers or the priests of Shaddai?”
Levi smiled. “You’ve got a point. Mind if I tag along? I’d like to talk to King Stephen anyway.”
The priests waved him on as they jogged to catch up. As they passed the courtyard sitting before the palace, the same where Evelah’s citizens had been gathered in order to receive the King’s proclamation earlier, Levi observed the mounds of freshly dug earth at various intervals in the lush green lawn. He imagined the Royal Groundskeeper cursing whoever had dug so many holes and refilled them on his once beautiful lawn. Still, those holes might well save many lives before this was all over. Levi found it easy not to feel guilty about it.
As they began to pass beneath the portcullis, Levi heard a massive explosion behind them. He and the other men turned toward the Temple, finding a mushroom of smoke rising off the side of the building. Even more startling than the explosion was what had caused it to happen.
In the sky above the Wayland Temple, just now coming into the city, were at least two dozen of Mordred’s Man-o-war battleships sailing through the air. Levi’s mouth dropped open.
“What in the world are they?” yelled one of the priests standing next to Levi.
Levi could only star
e in astonishment. “I’ve no idea. Never have I seen their like.”
More explosions erupted both at the Temple and within the city. In moments the sounds of panic and screaming had reached their ears at the palace. “They’re dropping grenades on the city,” Levi said. “They could practically level Evelah before Mordred ever shows up!”
“We’ve got to stop them,” one of the priests said.
“No!” said the priest in charge. “Our place is with the King. He needs our protection.” He motioned to the others and began issuing commands.
“Wait!” Levi pleaded. “Are there any cannon we can use here at the palace?”
“Not with enough range to reach those things as high up as they are,” said one of the priests who had straggled behind the main group. Most of the priests had already fallen in line behind the ranking priest in order to protect King Stephen inside his palace. “But I think I know of something kept within the King’s Museum of Science that might help us.”
Levi followed the two priests whom the leader had grudgingly allowed to stay behind. They led Levi deep into the palace as many of King Stephen’s soldiers rallied their defenses. The ships flew silently over the city leaving a rain of devastation in their wake. Each time they passed a window, Levi found the floating Man-o-wars edging ever closer.
The priests led him higher and higher utilizing stairways Levi had never accessed before during his own time in Stephen’s court. Finally they arrived at a set of large steel doors. One of the priests, Kline, opened the doors, revealing a vast store of strange inventions. Levi entered with Kline and the other priest, Devin.
Many items lined the walls: strange suits of armor, weapons, and contraptions of every kind imaginable. Levi’s eyes swept across the treasures before him. Kline led them back around a corner in the room where another hall of artifacts had been housed. There, suspended from the ceiling by steel cables, hung an assortment of flying machines.