‘They’re in the citadel!’ he said. ‘All around! They’ve crossed the chasm!’
Captain Ravenshood stepped forward to ask the man how, when they all received the answer to his question. With a clacking sound, a dark-skinned Paatin soldier dropped from the blackness and landed atop the messenger, hacking him down with a long curved sword.
‘They fly!’ came a cry and it seemed to signal a rain of the Paatin upon them. Soldiers drew their swords and desperately fought to defend themselves from the caped desert-men who had somehow crossed the chasm. Tudor lashed out with azure streaks of magic that scorched Paatin cloth and flesh, and the Erics worked their spells feverishly, clearing the area of attackers. Samuel had his magic ring in his hand, fearful of using it, for the relic seemed to be burning him before he had even put it on.
The first wave of attackers was light and the Ghant soldiers managed to defend themselves. In the short calm that followed, Grand Master Tudor kicked over one of the smoking Paatin corpses and pulled back the man’s cloak with his staff. Revealed beneath, growing from the man’s shoulder blades were two sets of folded wings that reached down to his knees, veined likethose ofa dragonfly. The wings looked somewhat crushed beneath his body and they leaked a sticky,yellowish liquid that stank of squashed bugs. A residue of magic seeped from the things, and Samuel could sense that they had been recently grown, perhaps only minutes before.
It was only then that Samuel looked up, high into the darkness above the lights of the citadel, and his magician’ssightrevealed a sky full of men, sailing across the gap between the mountains like bees scrambling between flowers.
‘Incredible,’ Eric gasped, still looking at the body before them.
‘Yes, very remarkable,’ Tudor agreed. ‘I think now we can see how they intend to take the citadel.’
Samuel tugged the old man’s cloak and pointed to the sky above them.
‘Goodness,’ Tudor stated, looking up and was almost dumbfounded himself. ‘Captain!’ he shouted, despite the young man being directly next to him. ‘Signal General Mar! The Paatin are airborne and landing all over the citadel. Sound the full defence!’ The young man leapt to action and began shouting at his banner-men. ‘You three, get to our Koian friends and defend them. The Paatin could be throughout the whole place in moments. They are landing everywhere. If things look grim,remember our plan.’
The clacking of many wings gave them the slightest warning and another wave of winged Paatin invaders crashed down around them. The men seemed unfamiliar with their new appendages and some landed sprawling. Some broke their legs or arms as they fell hard. Others had trouble with their balance and fought awkwardly once they had landed. Individually, the dark-skinned desert-men were felled easily, but they began landing in greater and greater numbers. The soldiers on the parapet found themselves quickly being outnumbered, while Captain Ravenshood frantically called for more troops. Again the magicians struck out with their magic while Samuel sheltered behind them. He was forced to haveback against the battlements when some movements caught his eye, causing him to spinroundand face the chasm.
‘Grand Master!’ he called, and the old magician had to pull himself from the fray, strikingalanding Paatin down with blasts of magic and peering out after Samuel’s pointed finger.
While the Ghant defenders had been busy fending off the winged assault, other desert-men had now been able to rush out onto the far ledge. They carried large bows between three of them and they were hammering their devices into the stone. Readied, some of the men began shooting cables fair across the wide gap.Eachone wastipped with a barbed end that penetrated the fortress stone and dug in deep. Dozens more ropes started leaping across the chasm and,as soon as the rope had been pulled taut, the Paatin began shimmying across.
‘Captain!’ Tudor called out, but the man was occupied, defending himself from a trio of snarling desert-men.
‘Withdraw!’ the Captain cried, for the numbers of Paatin on the parapet had now become overwhelming.
Unfortunately, the magicians were now separated from the cluster of soldiers and could not reach the stairs. The Paatin had surrounded them, pinning them against the battlements. Samuel ducked and weaved, under and aside, from sword stroke and thrust. All his dexterity was tested as he moved from one magician’s stance to another, using his well-honed skills to move about as nimbly as a marketplace acrobat.
Spinning about and finally having a moment to spare, Samuel pulled the Argum Stone from his pocket and readied to put it on his finger. He knew the power would be difficult to control and here, in this tight space, the results could be disastrous, but the Paatin had tested his patience, and he was going to blast them all-to hell with the consequences.
A flash of magic caught his eye just as Balten came crashing down like a bolt of lightning. He landed amongst the pack of Paatin and those around him were thrown from their legs as the great wall shuddered beneath them.
‘Quickly,’ he motioned. ‘I have more to do than look after you.’
‘Infernal fool,’ Tudor muttered. ‘I was just about to do that.’
They darted down the stairs, leaving Balten to protect their backs. The man struck out with lashes of magic that had the Paatin screaming and throwing themselves to the floor as blood erupted from their eyes and ears.
‘Off you go!’ Tudor instructed. ‘See to the Koians. I will guard the crossing bridge. If the Paatin gain that, we will be in even greater trouble.’
They did as they were told, and Eric led the way, dashing through the halls and courtyards of the citadel as fast as they could. Some rooms were thick with fighting and others were strewn with General Mar’s defenders or Paatin bodies seeping yellow fluid. However, as they descended, the lower floors of the fortress seemednotto be infiltrated and the three magicians went largely unaccosted.
They spied a small group of blood-soaked soldiers guarding the hall and it took a moment to realise that one of them was Captain Orrell. Another of the gore-encrusted men was Lieutenant Valiant. When Orrell heard of their goal, he left Valiant to guard the passageway, while he accompanied the magicians to act in the defenceof the Koians.
They made the hallway where the Koians had been lodged and, calling out, they were dismayed to find the rooms all empty-all but the last. Lady River lay beside her bed, strewn on the rug with her limbs at bizarre angles, her hair fallen across her face.
‘A broken neck,’ Orrell said, squatting down beside her. He looked up at the magicians with suspicion. ‘It’s strange they chose not to stab her. The Paatin all have swords.’
A woman’s scream had them all running again and they followed the noises of battle into the dining room, following a trail of fallen desert-men. Stone, the Koian attendant was sprawled on the floor and although,not quite dead, Samuel could see the man had scant moments left, such were his wounds. A black shadow had nearly engulfed his life force and it marked his final breaths.
Further sounds drew them out into the outdoor courtyard where Samuel had first pursued Doonan. The Koians were there, surrounded by a group of Paatin. Lady Leaf lay dead on the stone, mouth agape and eyes open, with Cloud splayed out beside her. The woman had a single,deep gash to her middle, while Cloud had been stabbed countless times, as if his attackers had been afraid he would not stay dead. Around them was a pile of dead and twisted Paatin. Lady Wind and the god-woman stood in a corner hugging each other, with Horse standing defiantly before them, holding off the dozen or more Paatin. His stance was low and his fists were held out in clenched knots. His brow was dripping with sweat and his chest was heaving with pained exertion.
When the magicians came bustling in, some of the Paatin had turned their heads to see, and Horse acted like a released spring. In a blink,he had leapt up and snapped a Paatin neck with his foot. One hand reached out and pulled another towards him by the wrist, using the man’s sword to skewer one of his own. He then broke that man’s neck with a reach and a twist. Each one that died reeked with the same thick yellow fluid tha
t had been saturated with perverted magic.
Captain Orrell watched on, for Horse had acted faster than anyone could believe, leaving them all standing as if rooted to the spot. ‘Well,that answers our questions.’
The remaining Paatin split themselves between the magicians and the defiant Koian, raising their swords and stepping forward with their mouths hanging open. The desert-men moved stiffly and with hazed eyes, as if the magic that had given them wings had also filled them with a poison that sapped their strength.
The Erics did not hesitate, striking out with their spells, knocking down the Paatin in succession and Horse broke the leg of one and quickly dispatched the final two with crushing blows to their chests, moving like a blur of destruction. With each blow he landed, a silver jet of energy-visible only to Samuel’ssight-flashed around his fists and feet, like sleeves of magic. Never before had Samuel witnessed magic summoned or used in such a way, but he had no time to consider it now.
Captain Orrell was left with nothing to do but wave his sword in a token fashion, for all the Paatin were dead.
Only then did Canyon come stumbling out of the water room. He looked at the pile of bodies, then his fallen country-folk and lastly the magicians. ‘This is intolerable,’ he said. ‘Our god is in danger and these accursed winged men come in greater and greater numbers. This fortress is lost. We must be gone from here.’
Horse nodded and relaxed from his fighting stance, readying to follow his leader. His knotted muscles unbunched and relaxed beneath his shirt as he took a great deep breath. It was like watching a great siege machine being disarmed,its tension mechanisms carefully released.
‘Magicians, follow us,’ Canyon suggested. ‘We will meet the others in the town as was suggested.’
‘But Ghant is not yet lost,’ Samuel refuted. ‘These winged desert-men are slow and the magic has poisoned their blood,’ and to demonstrate the fact, he kicked at a cloaked body at his feet. Fluid oozed out onto the stones with a sickly smell. ‘All we need do is prevent their main force from crossing the chasm. These men are only useful for a limited time. They are little more than diversions.’
‘And Grand Master Tudor is still with us,’ Goodfellow asserted.
‘And Balten,’ Eric added. ‘The battle is not over while we have them.’
Canyon seemed annoyed. ‘Then if you insist on holding onto this tomb of rock, we will not accompany you. As you can see, we have already lost half our number to yourdiversions. If you would, please escort us to the mounting yard and we will ride for Shallowbrook and await you there.’
Samuel looked to Captain Orrell for agreement. ‘Can we get there and back safely?’
Captain Orrell rubbed thoughtfully at his bristled chin. ‘We can do it, but we must be quick. If we are to make any difference in this battle, we must return before the odds are weighted too heavily against us.’
They agreed and started off, with Horse rushing away at the lead, so that the others had to race to keep up with him.
‘Where is River?’ Samuel asked of Canyon, seeking to test the man’s reactions.
‘She is also dead,’ the ambassador said, and pushed past Samuel back into the dining room. He gave nothing away in his voice.
Captain Orrell slipped in front and now led the way, with his sword readied, treading swiftly and carefully along the halls. He paused at each corridor and waved the group to passonly whenhe judged them to be safe. As the Captain had said, they saw no Paatin and only the occasional Ghant defender, rushing by to reinforce some struggling point of the defence.
‘We’ve lost our squad,’ one declared. ‘What should we do?’
‘Keep the halls clear,’ Orrell told him. ‘Make your way to the command room if you can. General Mar will need all the help he can get.’
The party finally spilled out from the fortress and into the night air. They hurried along the stone path that followed the ravine, away from Ghant and towards the stables. From here, they could see fires set all over the citadel, and the noises of battle echoed between the mountains.
On the other side of the ravine, every inch of flat ground was filled with Paatin, each waiting to be across the gap. The space across the chasm was filled with hundreds of glistening filaments; each one a strong cable that the desert-men madetheir wayacross as quickly as they could. There was something broken and burning at the bottom of the ravine, half engulfed in the savage river that churned there amongst the rocks. It was too distant and dark to see clearly, but Samuel guessed it was the crossing bridge. If the defenders truly feared they would lose Ghant, perhaps they had thrown it down to sabotage the Paatin advance as much as they could.
‘This is not good,’ Captain Orrell declared. ‘At this rate, they will overwhelm the citadel in no time.’
‘Then let’s get back there and help,’ Eric said. ‘I can see no more winged Paatin in the air, so the Koians will be safe here for the time being.’
‘Ambassador Canyon, can you ride to Shallowbrook from here?’ Samuel asked.
‘The battle is lost, Samuel!’ Canyon said. ‘Can’t you see? If you go back in there you will be killed and who will save your Empress then?’
‘It’s not over, yet. You are forgetting we are Magicians of the Order, and we can achieve what others find impossible. Besides, Master Celios is still in there, and whatever reason he had for us remaining at Ghant does not seem to have happened yet.’
They left the Koian survivors where they were and sped back towards the embattled fortress. Orrell left them within the main gate, taking the back route in attempt to make his way to General Mar, while the magicians took the direct route up the main stairs.
‘Master Celios is not always right, Samuel,’ Eric said.
‘I know, but I wasn’t about to leave anyone behind. Canyon only wants to save his own skin.’
They came out onto a long,rounded wall, looking down upon a large square where Paatin and Turian defenders were attackingeach otherfuriously like two nests of opposing insects. Most of the slower, winged Paatin seemed to have been vanquished, buttheyhad been replaced by their hardier comrades who had scaled across the chasm.
‘There!’ Goodfellow shouted, pointing into the throng.
Samuel followed his gaze and spied Master Celios and Sir Ferse caught amongst the battle. Master Celios seemed to be doing little except cower, while Sir Ferse dispatched almost every Paatin that came near with supple strokes of his blade. There was no doubt that Samuel had seen the man’s style before, for he fought with an inimitable,effortless grace that spoke of a master swordsman.
‘Well,don’t just stand there like fools,’ squeaked a little voice from beside them, and Samuel was surprised to notice that Doonan had sneaked up on them. The little man drew a tiny sharp object from his belt and flicked it down into the fray. A desert-man went down clutching his neck, but his shriek was lost in the cacophony of other cries and the clanging of steel that rang out all around.
They readied to cast their spells, when a blast of trumpets called from the heights of Ghant.
‘What is that? Goodfellow asked.
‘A call to aid from General Mar,’ Doonan stated.
‘But where is Grand Master Tudor?’ Samuel asked.
‘With General Mar,’ the dwarf replied.
‘Then let’s go,’ Eric stated. ‘They need our help.’
‘We can’t just leave,’ Goodfellow said with alarm. ‘These men will be overwhelmed.’
Doonan offered a suggestion. ‘If you magicians could use your spells to remove the cables that now span the chasm, the chances would swing in our favour. It is only their constant reinforcements that are keeping us overwhelmed.’
‘Eric,’ Samuel said. ‘What if you see to the cables? I will go to assist General Mar and, Goodfellow, you stay here and help as you can.’
‘Agreed,’ the other two asserted.
‘You won’t get to Mar directly. I know the way around,’ Doonan said and Samuel agreed to have the dwarf as his guide.
‘We must hurry,’ Doonan called, dashing along on his tiny legs. ‘We don’t want to get boxed in.’
They hurried through chamber and hall, along terrace and stairway. Several times,they had to turn back, either because they met a scene of battle or the way had been barricaded or broken. They stumbled upon the occasional lone Paatin warrior but Doonan dispatched each one with a flick of his wrist.
‘How many of those darts do you have?’ Samuel asked as they ran. ‘I’m assuming they’re poisoned.’
‘Deadly poison,’ he panted back. ‘Imported. Very expensive, too. I’m down to my last one, so after that you had better start earning your keep, Magician. I’m not made of money.’
They were running across a bridge that spanned two of the smaller towers when an incoming ball of magic alerted his senses and had Samuel diving to the floor.
‘Get down!’ he shouted and Doonan slapped to the floor like a dropped fish as the magic struck.
A boom sounded on the roof and the impact shook the wooden structure violently. One of the centre beams that ran along the ceiling broke in two with a sharp crack. It was not a spell that had hit them, however, for Samuel realised it wasactuallya magicianwhohad crashed onto the top of the enclosed bridge. With barely a pause, the person started off, bounding along the roof; each footstep was like a hammer blow, punching holes through the ceiling as the figure scrambled away.
‘A wizard!’ Samuel hissed, following the magic with his senses.
‘Om-rah!’ Doonan said. ‘He’s here!’
Samuel gained his feet as the little man was dusting himself off. ‘Who is that?’ he asked of the dwarf.
‘The Paatin arch-wizard. If he is here, we are in big trouble. Hereallyhates Balten!’
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