by CS Sealey
“If there are any complications, let me know. I don’t want to leave the city just yet, but I will go to Calormen if necessary.”
CHAPTER 70
War was inevitable. The populace had been growing increasingly agitated since Rasmus had escaped execution. It had only been a matter of time until something happened. The death of a young boy, who had broken into the Ayon barracks to try to see his captured father had tipped the citizens over the edge and forced them to act. Without orders from the resistance leaders, the lower city erupted into battle just before dawn. The citizens took anything resembling a weapon out onto the streets and began to strike down their Ayon overlords with the pent-up aggression from more than six months of occupation.
Most in the relocated sanctuary had already left to see what order they could bring to the lower city’s attack, and Rasmus was one of the last to leave. Even Emil, Kayte and Markus – who had arrived unexpectedly – had already left, taking Zoran Sable and Tiderius with them, to coordinate their attack on the castle. Aiyla had arrived with them and was sitting by herself in the common room, biting her nails.
Rasmus felt a light tug as Angora tightened the straps of his leather cuirass. Her expression was hard to read in the dull candlelight, but he saw the unmistakable hints of tears glistening in her eyes. He dared to imagine that those tears were for him, but he knew her well enough to suppose they were more tears of frustration than sadness. The large bulge that was her unborn child was making it difficult for her to climb stairs let alone fight.
“Are you afraid?” she asked, raising her eyes.
Rasmus shook his head and offered her a reassuring smile. “This battle is no different to any other I’ve fought in and I’ve survived all those!” he said cheerily. “I’m quite recovered. Besides, these are our streets. We know them better than the Ayons and defeating them should be easier here than anywhere else. We can use the avenues as bottlenecks and – ”
Angora opened her mouth to interject but her face screwed up into an expression of pain and she grasped his arm tightly. He did not need to ask what had caused the sudden discomfort, for she looked down at her stomach and took in quick, shallow breaths.
“Are you all right?” he asked, steadying her. He guided her over to the pallet he called his own and sat her gently down. She ran her hands tenderly over her stomach and sighed.
“It has passed now, but I fear he wants to be free already,” she said, then managed a small smile.
“He might come prematurely?”
She nodded. “My mother told me I was a month before my time and almost died because of it.”
“Well, I can’t blame this little fellow for being eager to see his mother.” Rasmus chuckled and squeezed her hand briefly. “Will you be all right?”
“Yes. If anything should happen, I am sure Aiyla and Lila can help me. But I should not keep you – go.”
They stood and Rasmus became aware that he was still holding her hand. She did not seem to notice at first but then returned the pressure on his fingers.
“You have been the best friend I have ever known, Rasmus,” she said, bringing his hand to her lips and kissing his knuckles. “Please come back.”
He watched as she tried to blink away her tears. “Don’t worry about me,” he said, drawing her in close. “I can look after myself. I’m only fighting soldiers after all. You should have wished for Tiderius’s safe return instead. He’s the one going off to fight Varren with Zoran and the others. That’s by far the greater danger!”
She lowered her head and released a shaky breath. “Oh, Rasmus…surely, you must know that I do not love your brother.”
The words hit him hard and he drew back in surprise. But she was sincere, he could see it in her eyes.
“But you are carrying his child! And he certainly loves you!”
“Yes, that is the unfortunate truth.”
“Does he realize the situation has changed?”
“If he does not, then he is a fool,” she muttered. “I have never loved him, Rasmus. It was one night when he was drunk and I was upset and stupid. I was not thinking.” She shook her head angrily. “It was a mistake! We did not plan this child and we are not together, no matter what he thinks! I keep trying to tell him but he appears to be under some delusion that I am turning him away to preserve his stupid oath!”
“But why did you…? You must’ve known how he felt about you!”
“I told you, I was not thinking straight. We should not be talking of this,” she said shortly. “You have a battle to win.”
A curious sensation rose within him, welling up from his stomach and threatening to burst through his chest. It was only a short while before he understood what it was. For years, he had waited, deterred by obstacles he could not overcome, but now he had a chance. Angora had ripped up her oath, her husband was dead and, though he tried not to rejoice in it, she had admitted she did not love Tiderius. A difficult conversation would have to take place between the brothers at some point in the near future, but one thing was certain – Rasmus could no longer stand idle.
“Angora, I – ”
“Freeing this city is more important than anything you may need to tell me, Rasmus.”
“I beg to differ.”
“Lives are at stake and the people need you to lead them. Go.”
She was right, but the burning feeling inside him urged him to stay, to spill his feelings. He struggled with the choice before finally submitting.
“All right,” he said through clenched teeth. “But after the battle is over, I will return and find you, Angora, and you will not stop me from saying what needs to be said. I’ve waited long enough.”
“May the Goddess watch over you,” she said, clasping his hands again in her own. “Please return unharmed.” She planted another soft kiss on his hands. In that touch, he felt the wetness of her tears and the slight quiver of her lips. She had been crying for him after all. “Please, Rasmus, try not to get yourself killed.”
“I’ll certainly try,” he said, smiling.
“Promise me you will return.”
“You have my word,” he murmured reassuringly.
“And try not to – ”
“Shh. I’ll be fine.”
“Yes,” she said and swallowed. “Yes, I–I know.”
“I love you.”
She smiled lightly and half laughed. In that moment, she looked so beautiful. Her large, dark eyes sparkled as they gazed worriedly up at him and he squeezed her hands. A moment later, his mind took a step back and his heart took control. Rasmus lowered his head and their lips met. Ever since he had first laid eyes upon her, he had let his imagination run wild as to what it would feel like to kiss her. Though he could taste the salt of her tears on her lips, it was the sweetest kiss of his life. He had no idea how long it lasted but, for him, time seemed to stand still. He felt complete and his soul sighed with relief.
“Marry me,” he whispered hotly in her ear. “When I come back, tell me you’ll marry me.”
He heard her laugh quietly, then she took a step back and wiped her eyes. “Perhaps…if you come back. Now, go. The resistance needs you.”
*
Varren paced the entrance hall angrily, waiting for the messenger to return. The pale yellow sky was obscured by columns of smoke drifting up from the lower city. He supposed the citizens had set fire to anything they could lay their hands on in order to lure soldiers into traps. He had seen the strategy used before but never against his own troops. Galenros sat motionless against the wall beside the heavy door, his eyes closed, searching the sight for Lhunannon and Tarvenna. Vrór had been all too eager to take to the wing against the Ronnesians and was the only Ayon mage currently fighting in the city.
“Where are they?” he yelled, turning to Galenros, but the seer could not hear him. “Send them off to Calormen…oh, yes, great idea! Yet they still haven’t managed to take the damned city! How many weeks have they had? Now, when I need them the most – ”
<
br /> “Sir!” One of the soldiers stationed to the castle’s defenses came hurtling down the corridor from the east wing of the castle. “Lord general, sir!”
“What?” Varren barked.
“A group of Ronnesians are making their way up from the middle city. Their progress has not been slowed by our lines of defense. Should we – ”
“I will deal with them myself!” Varren said, striding past the soldier. “Stay here and send him to me the moment he wakes up.”
“Yes, sir!”
Archis Varren crossed the entrance hall to the nearest flight of stairs. He could hear the shouting of men above him and knew the archers on the parapets had begun to attack. That meant the Ronnesians had come within range – they had reached the castle forecourt. He took the stairs two at a time, but instead of heading to the roof to join the archers, he hurried to the main balcony above the castle gates. When he reached it, he flung open the double doors and stepped out into a cacophony of shouts and flying arrows. He had an unobstructed view of all those emerging from the stairs on the opposite side of the forecourt. It also meant, however, that he was directly above the men pounding on the gates and could not see them. Varren could kill in a great variety of ways but he knew no spell which could loop in an arc.
Damn it, he thought angrily as he leaned over the balcony. Of all the luck.
He summoned a ball of fire and threw it as close as he could to the castle gates. However, instead of running from the doors as he had hoped, the Ronnesians pressed themselves closer to it, not relenting in their attack. Over time, they might manage to sabotage the hinges and gain entrance. He considered going down to the forecourt himself, but the only way he knew of returning to the castle was through the gates, since the walls had been spelled to prevent direct magical transportation. Unfortunately, the castle gates had been heavily barricaded, so that was out of the question. Varren swore and withdrew from the balcony.
“My lord!” a familiar voice called as he reached the entrance hall.
Varren spotted Galenros immediately, leaning against one of the pillars that lined the hall. He looked drained by his latest vision.
“I have managed to contact Tarvenna. She and Lhunannon will be here soon.”
“And about bloody time!”
*
Tiderius signaled for Emil to approach and the shaman hurried along the avenue between the inn and city hall as quietly as he could. The cacophony of noise rising up from the lower city probably would have muffled his footsteps but neither of them wished to risk being heard.
“What is it?” Emil whispered, keeping himself pressed against the side of the inn. “What can you see?”
“There are two units blocking the path to the monastery,” Tiderius whispered back.
Emil sighed and cursed quietly under his breath. “They might have discovered the passage into the kitchen gardens.”
“It’s been a while now since Zoran left us. If the path was blocked, he’d have come back and told us. No, they must be guarding the monks.”
“But why?” Emil asked. “They never leave the safety of their own walls.”
“I don’t think that’s their concern,” Tiderius said. “If anyone manages to get inside the monastery, it’s practically a fortress. A few men could cause havoc from any of those tower windows if they had a bow. They must be preventing anyone from entering.”
“I see your point. What are the men doing?”
“Just standing guard and talking,” Tiderius said. “We need a plan of attack. We can’t sneak past them. We’re here to liberate the city. Anybody we meet, we kill.”
“Hold your horses, Tiderius,” Kayte said, approaching them from the shadows, with Markus a step behind. “Our priority is Varren. If those men alert him to our presence and possibly our intent, we might as well turn around now.”
“Then what do you suggest? We sweet-talk our way past ten Ayon soldiers?” Tiderius asked.
“No. I’m saying we do it quietly. Emil or I could create cover for us to approach them undetected.”
“That will take too long,” Markus said, shaking his head. “I shall conjure a distraction allowing the three of you to slip past them.”
“Are you sure?” Emil asked.
“Oh, yes,” the wizard said confidently. “Just give me a moment to find a place. After the way is clear, I will join you in the fight.”
Without another word, he disappeared back into the shadows. Tiderius watched him go, feeling more than a little uneasy. They had discussed their plans with Zoran Sable and the assassin had gone on ahead to take up his position within the castle. He did not want to divert from that plan and put the assassin’s life in unnecessary danger. He had been invaluable to them thus far.
“I don’t like this,” Tiderius muttered. “What if it doesn’t work?”
“It’ll have to work,” Emil said. “We have to be inside that castle soon. Despite all the work he has already done for us, there’s no way of knowing whether Sable alone will be able to do much damage to Varren.”
“What? Even you have doubts?” Tiderius exclaimed. “But you sounded so sure when you brought him!”
“Every little bit counts, Tiderius,” the shaman said. “He may just be able to weaken Varren enough to give the rest of us a chance.”
“Then you’ve sent him in there to die?”
“The man’s not stupid,” Kayte interjected before Emil could retort. “His power is unique. Varren won’t know what to do.”
“But still – ”
“This is war, Tiderius,” Kayte continued. “One man’s life is worth the sacrifice for the greater good.”
“I agree, but, hell, you could’ve said something of your doubts before you sent him in there. He’s never faced anyone like Varren before. He’s not properly prepared!”
“He wouldn’t still be here if he didn’t think he had a chance.”
The sight of a green flare rising up above the rooftops interrupted Tiderius’s retort. The light continued its ascent, illuminating the clouds of smoke with an eerie hint of green, before it began to sink back to the earth. It had produced no crackle and no burst of smoke.
“That’s our signal,” Emil said, leaning his head around the side of the building. “The soldiers have seen it. They’re moving. Let’s go.”
CHAPTER 71
“Hold!” Rasmus shouted, motioning down the line to the other captains. “Hold the line! Wait! You there, stay in formation!”
“Arn, get back in line!” Cassios bellowed. “Back, now!”
“Arrows! Raise shields!”
The force of just over one hundred Ronnesians raised their shields as one and the flurry of arrows that came soaring down the street from the barricade up ahead bounced harmlessly away. Rasmus felt a bolt hit his shield and the force of the blow made him stagger. He glanced around and saw the uncertainty on the men’s faces. Most of them had never fought in the confines of a city’s streets before, let alone their own home city. Their swords were sharp but the experience and courage behind the weapons was lacking.
Rasmus remembered his first battle, a skirmish in Menthenae. He had been in the military for less than two months before the force of two hundred Ayons had marched down the south bank of the Great River Divide and sought to overthrow their lonely outpost. According to Rasmus’s commander, Captain Harkest, skirmishes of that sort were the perfect opportunity for the fresh meat, as he had called the new recruits, to get a taste for battle. Rasmus had been fourteen and afraid, but the fear of death had been greater than the fear of battle and he had surged forward, Cassios not far behind him. He had been the first man to kill that day, slicing an Ayon’s throat open with one swift swipe of his sword.
Ever since that moment, Rasmus knew he had no fear of being injured or even dying in battle. There was a thrill to warfare that sparked something inside him, a surge of life and vitality. Standing here in the city he loved, facing perhaps the hardest fight of his life, he looked at the faces about hi
m and recognized the expressions of fear and anticipation he had once worn all those years before. These men had been watching him. They knew who he was. They had been clustered in front of the gallows when Varren had called for his execution. They had cheered for him, supported him when he had been afraid. It was time to return that favor. His men needed to be inspired. This was not just some small battle or skirmish on the plains of Menthenae – this was a matter of life and death; not just of men but of an empire.
“You’re all afraid of death?” he asked, raising his voice.
The men remained silent, but attentive.
“What is death but a path that must be taken by all who ever lived and all who ever will? It is inevitable! We should not fear dying, but embrace it, as we do life itself!”
He regarded them all, their eyes a little wider now, but not with fear. “This enemy, this occupying force around us, is not unbreakable! They have bodies, they have blood running in their veins. It is our duty to spill that blood! These Ayons…they do not fight for survival! They fight for nothing but glory! But we fight for our families and our land, and that is why we will prevail!”
A cheer spread through the men and they thumped their sword hilts against their chests and shields. This cheer turned into a monstrous war cry that carried up the street and further into the lower city district. The cheering died down when Rasmus opened his mouth to say more.
“Who are the Ayons but a band of vagabonds from Turgyl and pompous city boys from Leith? And who are we? We are Ronnesians! Real men! We will stand and fight them! They will charge at our shields, they will throw their weight against us, but we shall hold the line and stick together! And when they tire, men, when they tire, we will strike them down and they will not rise again! This is our city! Let’s take it back!”
The cheering erupted once more. Men beat the hilts of their swords against the underside of their shields and roared.
“Soldiers of the southern lands,” Rasmus began to sing, stirring them further, “Raise your flags up higher!”