by Ash Stinson
Another rock crashed into the metal, shattering and spewing dust and pebbles all over them. A larger chunk hit a soldier, who cried out and fell to the ground. “You’ve got it,” said Raettonus, running his hand through his hair to get the dirt out. He hurried back inside and met Brecan coming up the stairs.
“They’re here, aren’t they, Raet?” asked Brecan. His body was covered in centaurs’ armor, which left his wings and head unprotected but was, all things considered, better than nothing.
“What do you think?” said Raettonus. The walls shook as another boulder battered them. “We need to go destroy their siege machines.”
“Okay, Raet,” said Brecan. His voice wasn’t steady.
Raettonus mounted the unicorn. There was a leather pad between the metal plates for him to sit on, but it still wasn’t as comfortable as riding bareback. In any case, it was a necessary evil and better than sitting on full plate armor. Drawing his rapier, he urged Brecan down the stairs. As they made their way through the fortress, the walls shook and moaned from the impacting boulders. Beneath Raettonus, Brecan shivered.
“Come on, now,” Raettonus said, giving him a sharp pat on the side of his neck as they drew near the fissure in the outer wall of the building. “I don’t want to see you pussying out on me, do you hear?”
“Y-yes, Raet. Of course I won’t,” Brecan said, flattening his ears. Still, there was a quiver to his voice, and he couldn’t keep from shaking.
They flew out of the still-gaping hole on the side of the citadel, which had been repaired only on the bottom few stories. As they emerged into the early morning light, Raettonus got his first real glimpse at Cykkus’ army. His stomach shriveled inside him, and for a moment he went completely slack.
Beyond the wide trench, which had been dug and filled with pikes by Diahsis’ soldiers, a great, gray mass punctuated by enormous trebuchets sat hunched on the mountainside, spilling over onto the neighboring mountains. Lipless, dead-eyed, goblin-like creatures all in chain mail stood with pikes and axes, their terrible, metal teeth glinting in the dawn light. Some of the gray-skinned abassy were astride armored rats larger than draft horses, which made Raettonus blanch and feel faint. Enormous maggots—at least twenty feet long—were also in attendance, armored and saddled with the supplies, but nothing was more horrible to Raettonus than the rats. A regiment of abassy lifted their empty arms and pantomimed pulling back on bowstrings. They released, and arrows of black miasma shot upward from the air before them, arching up toward Kaebha’s walls.
“There’s so many of them,” said Brecan, gliding along the outskirts of the army. He was noticed by a couple of abassy, and they lifted their hands at him. Ethereal black arrows whizzed up at him, and he had to bank hard to the side in order to avoid being pierced by them.
Seven massive trebuchets were placed on the frontlines of the army. With a loud twang, the arm of one of them shot forward, loosing a boulder on the citadel. It struck against the wall, cracking the stone.
“Over there—quickly,” said Raettonus into Brecan’s ear.
The unicorn darted through the air toward the trebuchets. Raettonus gripped tight to his mane with his free hand. Fire danced across Raettonus’ shoulders onto the blade clenched tightly in his right hand. Brecan rolled out of the way of another barrage of arrows. One of the maggots hissed and reared at them, a stream of liquid squirting from its mouth. Brecan slowed suddenly to avoid the acidic stream, unsteadying Raettonus. He began to slip from the unicorn’s back, and his stomach tightened into a nauseous ball. Throwing his arm around Brecan’s throat, he managed to catch himself. Brecan sped up again as the colossal maggot shot another excretion at them.
Arrows hurtled through the air around them. A few struck the plates of Brecan’s armor, leaving black marks behind as they evaporated on the metal. One of the arrows grazed Raettonus’ arm, leaving behind the most horrible pain he’d ever felt. It was as though every nerve in the entirety of his body was screaming in agony, like his muscles had suddenly shriveled up and were torn away. He could feel poison coursing through the veins of his arm. There would be time to worry about that later though.
Brecan swooped low, near the trebuchets. Blood oozing down his arm, Raettonus swung his sword at one of the devices. A crescent-shaped blast of fire erupted from the blade. It sliced through the trebuchet’s arm, leaving the wood charred and burning in its wake. The blast of fire was far smaller than he might’ve expected had he not wasted so much energy saving Diahsis. Raettonus winced and gritted his teeth as a horrifying pain shot through his bones. Dodging more arrows, Brecan carried him swiftly to the next trebuchet.
He struck it down in the same manner as the first. Blue veins were beginning to appear around his wound. He took a deep breath and tried to focus on the cold poison in his blood. The injury began to sizzle and bubble as fire filled his veins—the wonderful, caring touch of fire inside of him.
Raettonus was beginning to feel lightheaded as they spun and dodged through the air. Down below he could see the giant rats watching him with their beady eyes, which only aggravated the feeling. He swung his sword at the third trebuchet as Brecan bucked up to avoid another hail of miasmic arrows. Raettonus’ flames missed and scorched the ground instead. He tried again and managed to hit it, sending the burning arm crashing down atop a rat and its rider.
“Raet, are you okay?” Brecan asked as the man swayed on top of him.
“Fine,” said Raettonus. He dug his knees into Brecan’s armored sides. “The next one. Hurry.”
Brecan leaned forward and, with a powerful flap of his wings, started for the trebuchet. A barrage of arrows passed in front of him. The unicorn spun in the air to avoid them. Everything went blurry for Raettonus, and he lost his grip. He crashed hard into the flaming wreckage of a trebuchet. He stumbled to his feet, abassy closing in on him from all sides. The monsters slowly circled him, their eyes like little black holes sucking the light out of the air. He held his rapier up before him and took a defensive stance. In the morning’s yellow light, the bare teeth of the abassy glinted dangerously. They were watching him with blank, black eyes. They were searching for an opening. They were waiting for him to make the first move.
Could they even be killed?
The moment seemed to hold forever. They watched him cautiously, as though unsure what to make of him. He stared back, unsure how to fight them. The abassy circled as he held his thin blade before himself.
The moment broke.
One of the monsters lunged at him spear first. He parried the weapon sloppily and gave the abassy a kick behind its knees, knocking it down. The others had been emboldened by the first, however, and were swarming toward Raettonus from all sides. He swung his sword, sending a fiery crescent cascading into the abassy soldiers in front of him. The abassy he knocked down was getting to its feet. He drove his rapier into its cheek and then its eye. It stayed down. Several abassy behind him surged forward, grabbing hold of him with their clammy, poisonous hands. Fire burst to life all along Raettonus’ flesh, and the abassy relinquished their hold. They hissed and struck at him with their lances. Raettonus parried a few of their blows and dodged out of the way of quite a few more. Some of the sharp points glanced off him, leaving red, bloody trails across his flesh. A couple struck true and hard, impaling his arms and belly.
Everything went white for a moment as pain shot through him. One of the abassy jerked its weapon to the side, and Raettonus’ arm went with it, twisting in a sick, unnatural way. Raettonus cried out. Tears of agony sprung to his eyes, helping the pain to blind him. With a burst of effort, he intensified the fire on his body. The tears in his eyes turned to steam, and the wooden lances stuck through him turned to charcoal and shattered to dust. He struck out with his rapier in all directions. For a little while, at least, he could ignore the pain.
And then Brecan was there, dropping out of the sky, all fangs and white-hot fury. He bowled over a pair of abassy, their ribs crushing beneath his weight. He lashed out with
his long tail. The red arrow at its tip caught an abassy in the face and tore its cheek open to the bone. One of the abassy tried to stab him, but the unicorn dodged nimbly. With a quick strike of his hoof, he broke the spear shaft into splinters. He leapt forward and struck with his other hoof, knocking a hole in the abassy’s skull.
He growled deep in his throat and a few of the abassy skittered back, away from him. “Get on, Raet—we need to get back,” said Brecan, never taking his pale eyes from the abassy. Clumsily, Raettonus mounted. Blood spilled from his wounds, pouring down Brecan’s plate mail.
The unicorn kicked his back legs out at an abassy that tried to sneak up on them. His lion’s paws struck it in the throat, claws tearing through the tissue. Brecan leapt forward, knocking another abassy down. Beneath the unicorn’s bulk, its chest turned to pulp encased in chain mail. With a fierce roar, Brecan took to the air.
“The next trebuchet,” said Raettonus.
Brecan flattened his ears. “No,” he said. “You need to go to the infirmary now. Leave it for later.”
Raettonus tried to argue, but instead he slumped forward and threw up. Between the blood loss, the fight, and the poisoning, he had overexerted himself.
Ducking out of the way of more arrows, Brecan made it back to the citadel. By the time he reached the infirmary however, Raettonus had already passed out.
* * *
The Magician Raettonus came around from a restless sleep sometime during the night and was confused at first as to where he was. With difficulty he cast aside the cold, white sheets and sat up in the bloodstained bed. By the moonlight flitting in through the windows he saw many of the other beds were occupied by bruised, unconscious centaurs. He supposed they’d been struck by debris from the boulders the abassy had been hurling.
“You should lay back down, Magician,” said a timid voice beside him. He looked up to see Ebha standing at his bedside. There were bags under her eyes, and her plump face wore an expression of subdued concern.
He waved her off. “I’m fine,” he said. “Where’s Sir Slade? And the boys?”
“The boys are sleeping before their next shift. Sir Slade is helping the archers on the roof,” she said. He tried to stand, and she put a firm hand on his shoulder. “He said if you woke up to tell you not to worry about him and to get some rest.”
Raettonus lay back down. “How’s the fight going?” he asked.
“I wouldn’t know,” she said. “There haven’t been any hits from those rocks in a few hours. That’s all I know.” The woman poured some tea and held it out to Raettonus. “Here, drink this.”
“What is it?” said Raettonus, taking it. It smelled bitter.
“It’s for the pain, and to help you sleep,” answered Ebha.
“I’m not in any pain and I don’t want to sleep,” Raettonus said. He thrust it back at her. “Bring me my clothes. I’m going up onto the battlements.”
Frowning, Ebha took the tea. “Yes, Magician,” she said, and started away.
His body ached to the bones but had been more than competently patched up. All his wounds had been sewed up and rubbed with medicine and bandaged, and the deeper injuries, such as the impalements of his intestines, had been healed magically—Sir Slade’s doing, he supposed. Even so, he still felt like shit. His bowels felt like they were filled with water, and it seemed to him like each breath was an unnatural labor. After a while, Ebha returned with a clean white tunic and hose. “Those aren’t the clothes I was wearing,” Raettonus said, scowling. “I don’t want those ones.”
“You had to be cut out of your clothes so we could get to your injuries,” she said. “My apologies.”
“Fine, give them here.”
He got dressed as quickly as his still-fresh wounds would allow and then, slipping his rapier into the belt, he started for the roof. Braziers were burning all atop the citadel to give the soldiers light where they knelt behind the parapets, bows in hand. By the pulsing blue light far off in the mountains, their enemy was visible far below, huddled at the edge of the trench they had made. Without a doubt, they were building a means to cross the chasm, far out of the range of Diahsis’ bowmen and catapults.
There was no hope.
“Loose!” shouted a commander. With a loud twang, the centaurs let go their bowstrings, and their arrows wobbled and arched through the sky, landing with a clatter on the shields of the abassy. Among the arrows, something shimmered, and when it hit on a shield, it punched through the wood and metal and exploded in bright light. Raettonus started purposefully toward where he guessed it had originated and found Slade there, crouched behind the parapets with centaurs to either side. Sir Slade was not a small man, but beside the massive centaurs, he looked like a child playing at soldier. Even with his stunning black and red painted armor, Sir Slade looked tiny and out of place beside the brute beasts.
“Master,” said Raettonus as he neared, and Slade turned and lifted the visor of his helm.
“You should be resting,” he said. His face was hard, made all the more severe by the blue light his eyes cast. The light made shadows appear in unfortunate places all over his countenance, and it made him look at least twenty years older.
“I don’t need to rest—I’m perfectly fine,” said Raettonus, and he couldn’t keep the sourness out of his voice. “You really oughtn’t to be up here. You could get injured.”
“This isn’t the first siege I’ve ever been in,” Slade said, lowering his visor. “I defended a much smaller castle when I was just a squire and managed to live through that. Between the skills I’ve picked up since then and my ability to do magic, I think I’ll be just fine. You don’t have to worry about me, Raettonus.”
Raettonus frowned. “It’s easy for you to say that,” Raettonus said. “But I’ve watched you die before. I’m not going to see you die a second time while I can still help it.”
Behind his helm and visor, Slade’s expression was hidden. He turned his face toward the battlefield. “What is this we’re fighting?” he wondered. “I asked Dohrleht and Maeleht, but they said they didn’t know. No one else speaks English…”
Raettonus shrugged half-heartedly. “They’re just monsters,” he said. “There are a lot of those here.”
The centaurs loosed another barrage of arrows, and Slade raised his hands and shot a burst of magic to accompany them. Raettonus heard the clatter of the arrows on the shields below, accompanied by a flash of light from where Slade’s projectile had landed. “We’ve been at this all night,” Sir Slade said. Inside his helmet, his voice sounded distant and rang metallically. “We’re not even wearing them down.”
“That can’t be true,” said Raettonus, coming to stand beside Slade to get a better look. “What happened to the other trebuchets?”
“Lucky shots from our catapults,” said Slade. “They spent all afternoon launching fist-sized chunks of iron down there and managed to break the arms. They ran out of iron a short while after that though.”
Lorum approached them. “Magician,” he said, touching Raettonus’ shoulder lightly. “I’m glad to see you up and about. We could use your help.”
“Certainly,” said Raettonus, turning away from Slade. “What do you need?”
“Fire, and lots of it, that’d be nice,” said the centaur. His helm had an open face aside from the nose guard, as did, Raettonus suddenly noticed, all the helms of the Tahlehson soldiers. Interspersed in the line, he saw soldiers wearing a different sort of helm that closed on the cheeks and left only eye slits; it was the kind he was used to seeing, and he assumed those soldiers to be turncoat Zylekkhans.
“I can do that,” said Raettonus. A thought struck him and he turned back to Slade. “The Captain would like you inside, in the infirmary.”
“Oh, really?” asked Slade, lifting his visor. He looked from Raettonus to Lorum. “Why’s that?”
“He didn’t say. Hold on,” responded Raettonus. He addressed the centaur. “Why aren’t you using fire arrows?”
“We
tried that earlier, but it didn’t seem to have much of an effect,” said Lorum. “We decided to conserve our fuel in case we came up with a better idea for it later.”
Raettonus nodded and turned to Slade. “He says he’s concerned about the injured men and just wants to be sure they’re with a skilled healer,” Raettonus told him.
Slade looked again at Lorum and then dropped his visor. “I’ll go then,” he said. With a respectful nod to the centaur, he hurried off. Lorum watched Slade go, but didn’t comment on it.
“What would you have me do?” Raettonus asked him.
“Well, I was thinking you could aid us with some magical fire,” said Lorum.
“Captain!” shouted one of the soldiers. Lorum rotated his upper body toward the young soldier, sucking his lower lip against his teeth as he did so. “They’re getting across the trench!”
Raettonus leaned over the parapets and saw that the abassy had assembled wood and stone tunnels to cover the giant maggots, which had stretched their long bodies across the ditch. Hidden beneath the tunnels, the abassy were slowly wheeling them across the maggots as a shield. “Quickly,” shouted Lorum, rearing up. “Aim for the maggots! Loose at will! Before they finish getting that armor over them!”
A thousand arrows rained on the maggots, stuck in their slick, white flesh, and clattered on top of the armored tunnels. The maggots hissed as green blood welled up around the shafts. Raettonus followed the arrows with a blast of fire. The flames struck one of the creatures, causing it to slip with a roar into the trench and be impaled on the stakes set therein. The armored tunnel and the abassy pushing it across slid forward and crashed inside the trench. Raettonus threw a few more fireballs down at the other maggots, whose heads were unprotected, as arrows thundered down like a dangerous waterfall. And then the first of the armored tunnels was across, and the abassy were beginning to file into them, bringing ladders with them. Lorum cursed quietly and gave the call for the soldiers to start dropping boulders and pitch.