Ampheus

by Jonathan Forth

That said, the five Janshai sat on their horses pondering what to do.

  “Well, this is really disappointing. I thought you said they knew they were being followed. That they must have spotted us and that’s why they crossed the Unthank Marsh.”

  “Well why else would they have done it? The marsh is a dreadful place.”

  “So, they go to all that trouble, just to let us catch up. Then make it easy for us to find and kill them?”

  The other Janshai shrugged. “So what do we do?”

  “Well, we can either ride there right now, catch them unawares and slaughter them, or… ?”

  “Or?”

  “Or we let them go, give them a head start again and hope they make a better fist of it second time round. Once they step onto the ice fields they’ll be a bugger to track. Streams, sleet, snow, bears, wolves; that will be a real test of our skills. Now that could become an epic story!”

  “Yes, I like that, though what happens if our larger unit has made it around the marsh. They can’t be far behind. Say they kill the Prince before he gets much farther. Then we’ll lose everything. My necklace would look fantastic with a couple of the Prince’s ears on it. Not your common or garden appendages. Royal ears. My family would be so proud.”

  “Yes, I could scalp his hair for my headdress.”

  “I could shrink his head for my breastplate!”

  “So it’s decided, we go for it.”

  “I agree. We go for it. We’ve still got to find the Druid; perhaps he’ll be trickier!”

  The Janshai did not see the wolves hidden by the curtain of dark beyond the light of the fire, though there was an audible “tut!” as the Prince and his company started jumping up and down, shouting and waving their arms round.

  “Really?” one muttered.

  *

  While this was going on, the one aspect that caught the companions by surprise was the wolves’ reaction. In fact, the pack leader stepped from the shadows and into the light and stood perhaps fifteen feet from them. Unnervingly he seemed to squint and glare at each of them, weighing them up. In human terms he appeared to be saying the equivalent of ‘come on then if you think you are hard enough!’

  He was a heavyset grey wolf, with a solid body and long and powerful legs and his muscles rippled through his tensed shoulders. The wolf’s coat had black waves down his back. He had curved sharp claws that he scraped in the ground. A rumbling growl rumbled deep from within his chest caused his lips to tighten and clench up. He emitted a vicious snarl revealing his jagged teeth and fearsome jaw muscles.

  “What would you recommend now? Perhaps throw a ball for it to chase?” the Prince said to Daylon.

  “Well,” said Daylon, “I seem to remember once that a man tried to wrestle a wolf into submission.”

  “I’m not wrestling this beast!” shouted Alon. “Else,” said Daylon, “I believe wolves tend to attack ferociously and indiscriminately. If you’re being attacked by a wolf, your best bet is to shoot them with an arrow.”

  “Right,” said the Prince. “What if there is a whole pack attacking?” Daylon offered a little unhelpfully, “Shoot more quickly?” The pack closed in on them as they stood with their weapons at the ready, waiting for them to charge.

  As the suspense was building, Leo was nudged from behind and almost had a heart attack, then leapt to one side and yelped. The others jumped and turned to see a beautiful lithe white wolf, which padded out from their circle.

  Leo heard Daylon say, “Of course I felt something, she is a shape changer.”

  The white wolf barked and stepped up face to face with the big grey wolf. She growled and laid her ears back on her head, challenging the big grey. The wolves in the outer circle started howling as a pack. A mark of recognition, they lowered themselves on to their haunches in deference to the white wolf. The big grey crouched, whimpered, tucked in its tail and rolled over on its back.

  The white wolf lifted her head and sniffed the air. Her eyes met that of the big grey. She threw back her head and howled up into the skies. As the howl echoed around them, the pack turned as one and headed off into the darkness. The companions stood with their feet rooted to the ground, not knowing if the wolves would reappear.

  “Well, that was unexpected,” said Leo.

  On the wind they thought they could just make out growls and snarls in the distance. The shouts and the shrieks of men; panicked whinnies of horses. The hunters were being hunted.

  *

  Gulden faced the same recurring nightmare. He was lying on his back, his arms pinned to the ground, unable to move them. The dark angel was holding him down. Slowly leveraging itself up his body, its talons on its elbows dug into his flesh and the earth as it pulled itself forward. Black leathery wings enveloped him, shutting out the light around him like death taking him inch by inch.

  The creature’s eyes shone in a frenzied glee as it got closer, swinging its head from side, consumed by the fiendish desire for blood and flesh. Finally, its black rotted fangs and the putrid stench of its breath emanating from its gnashing teeth in front of his face. Gulden tried to cry out but his mouth was so parched he could form no sound, a silent scream contorting his features.

  The demon fixed its yellow bloodshot eyes on his. It let out a blood-curdling shriek and drove its fangs into Gulden’s neck and feasted. Mia watched Gulden’s body tense and arch, thrashing about in the bed. They had patched up his injuries and now she sat next to him. She cooled his body with a damp cloth and mopped his feverish brow. There was little more she could do now but hope he was strong enough to fight the poison that had infected his wounds.

  She stared at the handsome face of the Amphean knight and again wondered what nightmares disturbed his sleep. However, she already knew that, as it had been she that had saved him from the dark angels.

  She saw the scroll with the King’s stamp on the side table next to the bed. Again, she pondered what message it may contain. What was it that this knight and others would give their lives for?

  What would bring the dark angels and Janshai so close to Celestina? So close to Celestina that they too would sacrifice their own lives to prevent this message getting through.

  She should have opened it when she had the chance instead of bringing it intact to the Elders. She pleaded with the Elders to open it. However, they were restrained by their traditions and beliefs in propriety and would not bend.

  They would not read the scroll until the knight recovered to present it to them, or died, in which case he forfeited his responsibilities and they would take it upon themselves to unseal the message. But she feared time was running out.

  She sensed how critical this was and felt impatient that he do one or the other; wake up or die that is. Yes, his nose was busted and he had scars on his face. She wiped his hair off his brow once more. She thought it was a handsome face and hoped it was not death, that he was a fighter and he would recover. But he needed to pull his finger out and do it soon.

  *

  Mia had been on sentry, on one of Celestina’s watchtowers, when she saw movement in the distance. It appeared like a dust swirl kicked up by the winds in the Windstrom Midlands. She’d strode over to the ‘lookout glass’ and focused the image on the white marble sheet behind it. The convex glass was a foot or so tall, magnifying the image on to the marble. She could just make out a lone rider heading for Celestina.

  He was taking evasive manoeuvres to avoid what appeared to be giant black-winged creatures. Not far behind, horsemen were hunting down their prey.

  Mia wore the uniform of a ‘Sky Born’. It was similar to the mounted riders’ uniform. It was white with a gold embroidered chest plate for protection. It consisted of a white cape that could be thrown over a shoulder and could also be wrapped across the mouth and sometimes eyes if necessary in the sandstorms that plagued the Midlands. She turned to the next watchtower on her left,
cupped her hand and shouted to Issa, pointing with her spear. Issa followed the line of her spear and nodded.

  “Warn the mounted guard, get them to send a full troop, then follow me!” Before Issa could react or object, Mia swept up onto her saddle and took off towards their unexpected visitors.

  ‘Storm Pride’ reared up under Mia’s weight, but steadied herself with her strong legs then pranced forward and leapt free of the watchtower. They plummeted downwards, gathering speed. Then Storm Pride stretched her wings and swept up into the sky. Mia leant to the fore and held on to the reins; she pulled Storm Pride to the west and urged her on, moving with the powerful thrust of her wings.

  The strength of the griffin closed down the distance to the rider quickly. The hind legs of a lion were pounding the air to provide even more power. As they bore down she could see the knight was unhorsed and facing a hopeless battle against the three dark angels, though he must have put up a brave fight as two were seriously wounded.

  They swept down and just as the last gargoyle was about to strike, she plunged her spear into its chest. The force of the blow sent it reeling away from Gulden and it flapped and crawled as it slowly died from the wound. Storm Pride stamped on the remaining dark angels and ripped them apart with her beak and talons until only lifeless carcasses remained.

  The Janshai were perhaps a couple of hundred yards away. Mia knew Storm Pride could only carry one of them; the knight was far too heavy. She stared into the griffin’s eyes, which blinked, put her arm around her neck and squeezed her.

  Storm Pride understood and she raised her beak, letting out a throaty screech. She paced over to the knight, picked him up in her talons and launched herself back to the watchtower. Mia stepped over to the dark angel and worked her spear free as it scraped against the gargoyle’s ribs. She stood and waited for the Janshai.

  When they arrived they were a fearful sight. Fifty or so of them. Dust matted their faces and clothes. Mia could tell that dangling round their necks were the bloodied remains of newly won trophies. Likely the companions of the Amphean knight.

  The leader stepped forward. “Well Windstrom, unwittingly I think you just chose your side; signed your death warrant and that of your fellow Celestinians.” He shook his head. “All this honour and chivalry. Really it will be the failing of you all and will just result in more misery and pain.

  “Yet, I am a forgiving and merciful man, as is our Dark Lord. I’ll give you an opportunity to atone and to turn the other way. I will camp here for seven days with my men. If during that time you return the Terramian and the scroll to me, then I am sure Gorath will look favourably on Windstrom. But if he is not delivered, then Gorath will ravage, he will burn.

  Mia looked at him. “To whom shall I give this message?”

  “I am Worak, captain of the Janshai.”

  The Windstrom Guard was approaching, and Mia turned and walked towards them, holding up her spear to signal them to slow down and calm. One of the guards had gathered Star Chaser and passed the reins to Mia. She mounted the horse and turned to leave.

  Worak shouted after her, “Take my message, Windstrom! Bring me my answer. Seven days. Don’t be foolish, do not release suffering and torment onto your people.”

  The guard dismounted at Celestina and the commander approached her. “Mia, that was very rash; you took too much of a risk and opened yourself up to too much danger.”

  She glared at him fiercely. “I saved a man’s life; what value can you put on that?”

  The commander nodded. “That is true, but it could have been a very different outcome. The Janshai are honourless killers. Had he not seen some merit in your living, we would not be standing here having this conversation.”

  Mia bowed her head.

  “And I know your mother would feel the same way. I don’t know why you insist on disobeying her. Let’s hope whatever message the Terramian has was worth it!”

  Chapter 19

  The Assault of Ampheus

  “Defend the front gate!” Cries of panic could be heard from the castle guards.

  Sumnar felt a presence beside him and was joined by Logar. “By the gods!” he said.

  “I’ll deal with the wizard,” shouted Sumnar. “You defend and hold the gate for as long as you can. Try not to get overwhelmed!” Logar nodded.

  “Keilif, bowmen to the battlements and form a line behind us. You fire the first volley at anyone coming through the gate. Dorf, infantry to the front gate, man the barbican. I want everything dropped on anyone that comes through there. No mercy. Boiling water, stones, throw whatever we have at them. The rest of us form a line; nothing gets through or the castle is lost.”

  As he spoke, the soldiers parted, allowing the King to pass through them. He turned and unsheathed ‘Light Wielder’. He beat his fist to his chest. “Troth to the Realms; the first one through that gate is mine!”

  They waited. They heard the drawbridge clank into place. They heard the roar from outside the castle and shrieks as the Horde erupted to their feet and stormed towards Ampheus.

  They waited as the Horde rumbled across the drawbridge.

  They waited as the first screams of the Horde on the drawbridge were heard as they were burnt with pitch and tar. Boulders smashed heads and bones, and arrows penetrated armour and sliced into flesh.

  They waited as the first of the Horde broke into the barbican and were scalded and burnt and had limbs broken by rocks; and then they came spewing into the courtyard behind the gate.

  A barrage of arrows cut down the first few. But they kept coming and crashed into Ampheus’s defensive line. The line bent, stood firm and pushed back, shields clashed and swords lunged into the crush.

  *

  The guards in the towers by the front gate had swung into action and attacked the cloaked figure as the blue bolt burst into the sky. They were unable to get close to him. He would cast them aside, like a hand swatting a fly, sending them crippled and crumpled against the battlement walls or flailing down into the crush in the courtyard beneath them.

  Sumnar approached along the battlements, beginning an incantation of his own. He emboldened his own words and called upon a deep energy from the earth beneath his feet. An orange stream of flame passed from the ground, through the walls, up to the battlements. The flame began coiling around the blue flame of the spy. The two flames sizzled and fizzed like two snakes writhing against each other, trying to gain purchase and vanquish the other.

  The spy turned. “So the soldier has become a wizard. I wondered what became of you on your wanderings.”

  Sumnar glared at the spy. “And the wizard has become a feckless spy. Hey, Ladryn, why does that not surprise me? There is no honour in you. What reward has Gorath offered you to betray your King and your people? I hope it is worth it as there will be nowhere to hide when this is finished!”

  Ladryn laughed, “Hide? From who, ghosts. No one will survive here. My master and I will cast all in Ampheus to dust and will turn our attentions to the other realms. You and your feeble King will be long forgotten!”

  With that he threw a flame at Sumnar, doubling him up and driving him to his knees.

  *

  The Ampheans met the first wave of the Horde as they burst into the castle. They crushed together with clash of steel and you could hear the howls of those who had already fallen. The bells were ringing the alarm around the castle, insistently. More soldiers came spilling from the doors of the castle’s inner corridors, stepping straight into the battle itself. An unending torrent of Gorath’s men swarmed into the castle from the front gate.

  It soon reached the point where there was a thin sliver of a front where the troops were actually fighting. The Amphean front was gradually pushed back, step by step, solely by the weight of numbers of the enemy. But they had slowed their progress and the numbers of the Horde that were entering the castle.

  It wa
s only a matter of time once they had breached the main gate that Gorath’s men accessed the outer battlements. Then they were able to manoeuvre around the castle’s initial defences. The initial response though had bought valuable time for the castle guards to block the inner sections of the castle.

  They formed a second front in case the first was breached. The attackers fought their way through the city and gained control of the outlying battlements and pushed inwards.

  The remaining citizens and soldiers retreated and fell back behind the second line. The castle chapel, however, bordered an area of ‘no man’s land’.

  *

  Fayette sheathed Defiance, which now hung around her shoulder and over her back. She sprinted down the corridors to the council chambers and beyond the armoury.

  She’d had to zigzag to avoid panicked soldiers and courtiers heading in different directions. Then she had to squeeze her way into the armoury as a hectic flow of guards removed weapons from the racks and headed down to defend the castle.

  She made her way to the back wall as they had done weeks earlier and pressed the King’s ring into the hollow below the torch. No one was paying her any attention as the door ground open.

  She took the torch and stepped into the hidden chamber. The flame flickered on the walls of the room as she strode straight to the back and picked up the totem, feeling the coolness of the stone; its surface was smooth, save for the sharpness of the carvings on the side.

  As she turned she found an ugly brute of a guard standing at the entrance to the vault. His eyes widened when he saw the totem.

  “Well, what have you got there, Your Highness?” he said menacingly and stepped towards her. “You know the castle is lost, we’ll all be slaughtered and those that aren’t may suffer even greater terrors. But the totem. Whoever bears the totem. Whoever brings it to Gorath, may not only be spared, but may be rewarded handsomely.”

  He continued to approach her threateningly.

  She stalled: “Your fellow soldiers are fighting for their lives and their families; where is your honour, your chivalry? Enough of such treacherous talk, soldier; turn and join them.” She could tell he was mulling it over, but his face turned into a grimace. “Self-interest over valour. So be it.”