Cannath took the place of command off to the side of the formation as they boldly marched down the broad avenue toward the Port of Hybrand. He surged with pride as he noticed onlookers gathering along the route to the port. By now word had spread of the arrival of the ship in the bay. The presence of Prince Cannath leading a formation of armed Cklathish Royal Guardsmen in the face of Arnathian Decree, and the sight of him wearing his own princely armor, caused rumors to spread like fire. Cannath smiled inwardly as he watched the enthusiasm of his people. In fact, the farther he went the more his fellow Hybrandese began to cheer for him and his small force.
He took great pleasure in watching the Arnathian Imperials who were looking on with great suspicion while they conducted their patrols. Here and there the prince heard a tell-tale thundering of hooves as Imperial runners were doubtless racing to notify General Craxis that Cannath was up to something and was leading an illegal, armed militia. As Prince Cannath made his way to within a hundred yards of the port, a small contingent of Imperials moved to block the path of his Royal Hybrandese Guard. Cannath called a halt and his company of one hundred fifty men stopped as one. The thunderous echo of their boots stomping the ground in disciplined defiance of Arnathia echoed off the buildings nearby. Indeed, Cannath allowed himself an outward expression of pleasure as the usual stalwart Imperials jumped ever so slightly.
“Lord Cannath!” called the Imperial squad commander. “You are ordered to desist and disband this illegal militia!”
The squad commander did not look as confident as he sounded to Prince Cannath. Cannath looked around casually as a gathering of onlookers formed, expecting a showdown. He noted that many of the onlookers carried staves, tools, or other implements which could be used as weapons. He only hoped they were sympathetic to his own cause and that they were not Arnathian loyalists; there was no way to tell. He could tell that the Imperial squad commander had noticed the same and appeared equally concerned.
“Prince Cannath of Hybrand does not answer to foreign Arnathian occupiers who trespass on our land.” The prince did not shout, but his voice carried with it authority, reflecting a cool demeanor. “Stand clear corporal, else there will be a fight. And, if you haven’t noticed, you are severely outnumbered.”
“Your peasant-militia is no match for highly trained Imperials!” the squad commander snarled, his confidence growing with anger. “You are in violation of Imperial Decrees banning the formation of provincial militias and bearing the colors of a banned house. Both of these violations carry the same penalties as charges of treason!” Cannath noticed the ever-growing crowd was becoming more restless, as shouts and jeers aimed at the Arnathians began. Yet some jeered at him and his men, in a vague way, bolstering the Imperials’ confidence, apparently. He knew that his allies among the Spiders were in position throughout the port area, but he did not wish to draw them into this fight. He hoped the crowd was on his side; there was still no way to tell. “Stand clear and disburse or face arrest!” shouted the squad commander.
Cannath silently held his ground, facing the arrogant Arnathian from about fifty paces, and took a moment to survey the crowd again. He began to realize that those who were looking at him and his troops were looking on with pride, while others stared at the Arnathians with ire and downright anger. Prince Cannath was well aware of the fighting prowess of highly trained Arnathian soldiers, having once been one himself. He knew full well how demoralizing it would be to his own men as they watched the squad of Arnathian soldiers cut down the first line of his proud but untested Cklathmen. Yet, he recalled how Cklathmen always fought with distinction, ferocity, and tenacity whenever and wherever they fought. The warrior spirit was a part of every Cklathman; it was an ever-present spark looking for a powder keg and Cannath was counting on the spark.
“COMPANY, FORM OUT!” Cannath shouted the command, his voice forcefully echoing off the storefronts of the nearby fishmonger and smithy. He watched with pride as his four platoons, in perfect unison and precision, moved into a line facing off with the Arnathians. Then with another command, each platoon expanded the distance between each man in step, stomping boots reverberating with intensity among the storefronts; Cannath sensed the unease from the severely outnumbered Arnathians.
“Stand down, Cannath!” shouted the commander, still showing confidence in his men. Then he said, “Lord Cannath, the general will certainly show mercy should you stand down!”
Cannath felt the hair on his neck rise and his blood begin to boil.
Mercy? He will show me mercy?
“COMPANY, BEAR ARMS!” The prince barked the command to his men in response, showing no outward emotion. The first of his four platoons very smartly brandished their razor sharp spears in perfect synchronicity. At the same time each of the following two platoons of longsword and shield drew their weapons and raised their shields as the rear platoon of archers knocked arrows and drew their strings.
The Imperial commander waved a silent command and his squad of thirteen men fanned out in a “V” formation around him, with the commander at its point.
For a long moment, neither of the men flinched, each stoically waiting for the other to finish. Cannath allowed the charade to go on while he noticed with grim pleasure the sleek black warship with a scarlet and gold crest emblazoned on its black sails, had finally docked alongside the pier in the deep waters of Hybrand Bay.
“COMPANY, DUN-A-KARA!” the latter part of the command was given in the old Cklathish dialect known as Merckish. Merckish was a dialect used by the Merck tribes of the Merckagne Islands off the coast of Hybrand and were considered part of the Hybrand nation. The Merckish language was adopted by Hybrandese military centuries ago when the Merckish officers distinguished themselves above all others in the Great Hybrand-Hurkin War. It was a language that had been forbidden by the Arnathian occupiers after Cannath’s own grandfather committed high treason and effectively surrendered Hybrand to the Arnathian Empire.
The Arnathians began a steady march forward towards Cannath’s own men.
“KARA!!” twenty-five bowstrings snapped as one and a rain of arrows fell upon the advancing Arnathians. Expecting this type of assault, the Arnathians raised their shields and advanced silently, Cklathish arrows sinking into Arnathian shields. Cklathish archers fired a second volley, and a third, and slowed the advance of the Arnathians as three of the lead soldiers took arrows in their shins. Taking advantage of the enemy’s pause, Cannath signaled the platoon of spears to charge the enemy followed by two platoons of swordsmen. The Arnathians were now outnumbered seventy-five to thirteen and Cannath grimly thought that the odds were just barely in his favor.
Indeed, his gut twisted as he watched more than a score of his Cklathish soldiers perish at the hands of thirteen Arnathians, including the wounded soldiers, before his men finally overwhelmed the Imperials. Cannath’s lieutenants quickly reformed the surviving men and set a detail to begin moving the injured and dying. After a moment, the gathered onlookers began to file into the street and helped Cannath’s men move the dead and tend to the wounded. Shouts of encouragement and cheers for “Prince Cannath” and “On for Hybrand!” carried to Prince Cannath’s ears and a chill ran down his back. He gave his countrymen an encouraging smile and said, “Today Arnathia will learn to regret what it has done to Hybrand! Today Hybrand becomes free!” The cheers of his people filled the air and confidence filled his spirit. Cannath swelled with pride and knew that for good or for naught, historians would write about the day Prince Cannath declared independence for Hybrand from the tyrannical rule of the Arnathian Empire. He always harbored tremendous guilt over the treachery of his family and all his life he had vowed to restore their lost honor.
Finally, he would have the chance.
Then thunder rumbled in the streets behind Cannath, echoing off the walls of the closely built apartment buildings at the Port of Hybrand. The crowd slowly quieted as a thousand heads slowly turned toward the sound. Cannath’s stomach twisted, he knew what that
sound was.
“COMPANY, FORWARD MARCH!” then, “FORWARD-RUN!” the remaining men of his company had reformed into ranks and began a synchronized run toward the port. He desperately hoped he could get his men through the port gate and close it behind them before the company of Arnathian regulars arrived. Against his better judgment Cannath looked back to see if the Arnathians were close, and his heart skipped a beat.
Civilians had filed into the street and made a makeshift military formation blocking the path of the oncoming Arnathians, giving Cannath and his troops time to enter the port. He silently saluted those brave citizens who were probably about to die to give the prince the time he needed. Cannath was pleased that the rumors facilitated by the Spiders had taken seed and his people were beginning to believe revolution was truly at hand. Cannath and his men quickly made their way inside the port, secured the gates and took up defensive positions inside the battlements of the port. He realized that the distinct lack of resistance inside the port could only be attributed to assassins from the Spiders. Cannath and his second in command, Captain Amos, quickly strode down the wooden planks of the deep water pier that was built especially for large ships. As he made his way toward the gangplank that was now being lowered to the pier he desperately hoped this ship held more men that it looked capable of; it was very likely that he and his men were going to have to fight their way out of the port.
Cannath waited at the bottom of the gangplank, eager for the fight to begin. He was anxious to see what manner of warriors this Lord Coronus brought to help him rid his country of Arnathians. He was aware of the sounds of skirmishing in the streets beyond the gates to the Port, but his lust for revenge had consumed him. Cannath was aware that there were civilians who were likely being butchered by the Arnathians in the street right now, but he resigned himself that such was the price he must pay to have his revenge.
A slender figure appeared at the top of the gangplank and began to descend to the dock below. It seemed to Cannath that the man had simply appeared out of thin air. The man was a Frost Elf, the race of elves sworn to evil who inhabited the frozen wastes of the Northern Continent. His skin was a frosty blue color with shifting patches of white, the effect was mesmerizing. His hair was blue-black and his eyes were the blue-green color of glacial ice. Cannath thought it odd that he almost seemed able to see through the man who now looked him in the eye with utter calm and confidence. The elf carried himself like a hawk perched upon the limb of a tall tree with its kill gripped in its talons and shrieking a triumphant cry to the world.
The man looked disdainfully around the battlements of the port and brought his gaze to bear on the stalwart prince. The man was dressed all in black with a high collared coat heavily decorated in what he guessed was Elvish design. The piping of the sleeves and collar were all richly done in silver and blue; the man truly bore a lordly demeanor. Yet, Cannath couldn’t shake the feeling that, at times, he was peering right through the elf.
He was surprised when Gavinos greeted the newcomer like an old friend and happily embraced him. While Coronus did indeed return the embrace and acknowledge Gavinos, Cannath noted that the man’s face remained stone cold. The pair spoke for a few moments in their own language and Cannath was getting anxious.
“I am Prince Cannath-” the prince said finally, interrupting the elves. But Coronus returned the interruption with one of his own.
“I know who you are. All is as I commanded?” the rude interruption took Cannath aback for a moment. He was briefly angry, yet realized he was in no position to quibble with this man. Frost Elves were renowned for their strange powers and the longer they stood here, the harder their fight would become.
“Of course, Commander Coronus,” replied Cannath refusing to address the elf as lord. Coronus did not seem to notice. Gavinos was nowhere to be seen.
“Good, it appears we have little time,” the voice was smooth as glass, inviting, yet deadly.
“Commander, are there reinforcements on the way?” Cannath asked, hopefully. The elf simply waved him to silence and called to a shadowy figure on the deck of Eradicator in the language of the Frost Elves. Then, quite suddenly, a large hatch opened from the hull of the ship, nearly at water level. A wide gangplank drifted out of the hatch and settled quietly on the dock a few yards away from Cannath and Coronus. Cannath thought he saw some figures moving near the opening of the hatch but all he could see were shadows. A gentle odor of decay, at once sickly and sweet, drifted through the air and settled around him. It was a mild odor, strong enough to make his stomach fill with butterflies, yet weak enough to dismiss when distracted.
Then he watched hopefully as solid figures began to fill the top of the wide gangplank and make their way down. Row after row of men, and women, ambled onto the pier and settled into military formation. Oddly they seemed to be a collection of the various inhabitants of Llars and not from just one particular place; were they mercenaries perhaps? The prince marveled at how silently the troops moved and noticed that each bore the same strange symbol painted, or tattooed, on their foreheads.
What dedication these soldiers must have to proudly display their master’s symbol on their faces for battle! he thought eagerly. But these new soldiers didn’t seem particularly soldier-like as the prince gazed at them more closely. They looked unhealthy; their skin was very pale and many of them had festering sores on their exposed skin. Flies danced around their heads and the gulls were being particularly noisy, some even diving at the heads of the unmoving soldiers. Perhaps there had been disease aboard ship. He knew from his own experience that it was entirely possible for that to happen in the close confines aboard a ship.
When all were formed up on the pier Cannath saw that there were many, many, more soldiers than a single ship of this size should hold. Three full companies of soldiers stood silently, at perfect attention on the pier, bearing poleaxes, swords and shields, lances, bows, or spears. And on the massive foredeck of the ship two large ballistae that he was certain he had not noticed before, appeared on the main deck.
“Commander, the Arnathians will by now have us trapped inside the gates. What is your plan?” Cannath asked inwardly nervous.
The elf glanced at him briefly but said nothing. Instead he stared intently at his troops. Suddenly the men moved forward as one unit and it struck Cannath that no verbal command had been given. Cannath and Captain Amos looked at each other warily, and followed the elf down the pier toward the main port area and the battlements. Cannath was eager to begin the fight but he was beginning to feel as though he and his forces were trapped inside the pier.
The Port of Hybrand was located in a strategic position and it was flanked on both sides by sheer cliffs. The battlements that led to the city were tall and easily defended to help prevent assault from the sea. Only now Cannath found himself trapped on the wrong side of the battlements. He knew that there were no Arnathian fleet ships in the area to attack them by sea, but there were certainly a large number of deadly Arnathian soldiers on the other side of the battlements waiting for the moment when their blades would taste blood.
He knew that in all of Hybrand there were perhaps three companies of one hundred and fifty men each scattered about, and one of those companies occupied the capital city of Hybrand. But that one company was worth three of any other military force on Llars in a fight. He wondered how these silent and decidedly grim looking soldiers would fare against the Arnathian regulars.
“Prince Cannath,” called Commander Coronus. Cannath nodded at him. “Open the gates.”
“I beg your pardon, Commander. I will not!” he said. “Do you mean to kill us all?” Cannath was getting angry, and began to feel as though he had been betrayed.
The elf leaned very close to Cannath and placed a single finger on his forehead. The prince immediately felt a pain like a blade of fire piercing his head and he fell to his knees. He looked up at the elf, eyes begging for mercy. “Give the command, Prince Cannath,” the elf said quietly, menacingly. “The Arna
thians will fall before the might of my soldiers!”
Cannath signaled to his second, Captain Amos, who ran as fast as he could toward the battlements. Anyone who could make Prince Cannath fall to his knees with the touch of a finger was someone to be reckoned with, the man thought as he ran. Cannath dusted himself off and stood back up. He was angry at being treated so poorly by someone who was supposed to be an ally and even angrier at having no choice but to accept the man’s leadership. He watched as Coronus strode confidently to the front of his formation and stood expectantly at the gate. Cannath made his way to the battlements to remain with his men.
Slowly, the gate began to creep open and a full platoon of Arnathian regulars trotted into the port, in step and banging their shields ominously. Cannath’s men rained arrows down on the invaders but his men were too few now to do any real damage. He resigned himself to walking up and down the ranks of his men bolstering their confidence and preparing them for the eventuality of a fight on the battlements themselves.
That fight never came. As the prince and his men looked on, the deadly effectiveness of the troops belonging to Lord Commander Coronus became evident. Every Arnathian that entered those gates was cut down by Coronus’ men. By now, the newcomers were making their way into the streets and were taking the fight to the Arnathians. Cannath and the rest of his men watched the events unfolding with awe. The strange troops cut down the highly trained and skilled Arnathians with ruthless abandon, seemingly impervious to the deadly blows of their foes. One by one the Arnathians fell, there were no survivors. Commander Coronus was in the thick of the fighting although he seemed to appear and disappear at times, Cannath noticed. Finally the fighting drifted further away from the port and his men cautiously moved down from the battlements.
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