At times, the Light seemed to have a will of its own. Jin and Hexen felt it, as well. Dain had sensed it before; in other lands he’d fought demons a time or two, had felt the Light surge up unbidden as if answering a far-off call echoing endlessly through the ages.
“Will Jin and the rangers attack soon?” Telar asked.
Dain’s son stood at his shoulder. He seemed years older looking out at the encampment, eyes serious and narrow. Nothing like the laughing boy who lets Rhone ride on his back or soars on the rising winds.
“Yes, she’ll hit them while they set up camp,” Dain said.
“What are those?” Telar pointed to the nearest of the creeping bone-men.
“Some devilry of Koren’s. Cleeger flew close enough to hear them called Risen. They don’t feel like demons; they are tainted by darkness, but it is not as strong.”
“I should have gone with Jin,” Telar said. “I wish I could help in some way.”
Dain started to tell his son that he was too young, that war wasn’t for him, not yet. Then he stopped himself. This battle was for survival. If the enemy breached the castle, Telar would have to fight like everyone else.
Dain faced his son. “You will have your chance. As a leader, your first duty is to keep your family and people safe. Remember the sacrifice of your grandparents. We must honor them.”
“I know, Father.”
“I hate being cooped up in here, too. I’m the one who should have gone with Jin,” Dain said. He offered Telar a smile and clapped him on the shoulder. “Though, knowing your sister, she would have tried to send me home with orders to rest and save my feeble old man’s strength.”
Savoring his son’s answering grin, Dain reminded himself that Telar wouldn’t be a child after the next few days. Witnessing the death and horror of war leeched away youth. It had his own. His youth had died in the shadow of Thistleton’s shattered ramparts. It saddened Dain that Telar and Luren would have to see this. He had little doubt that the next few days would be their clearest—and last—true childhood memories, standing out like islands in a vast, dark sea.
“Where is Luren?”
“With the mages on the east tower. They are showing her how to cast lightning. She’ll be hurling spells while I’m stuck watching Rhone,” Telar sighed. “It isn’t fair. Luren gets to fight, throwing fire and lightning bolts, and I have to keep an eye on my baby brother. Can’t you give me something to do, Father? Something worthy?”
“Waiting is the worst part of battle. It’s also terribly common. You’d just as well learn that now.”
“Please, Father?” Telar clenched his hands at his sides, looking for all the world like he might explode if not given a task.
“Well, Rhone is with your mother now. Show me your wolf and we’ll get some practice in.”
“Practice against you?”
“Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you. It shouldn’t embarrass you too much losing to an old man,” Dain laughed.
Telar shifted into a wolf and snarled. He lunged forward and Dain batted him aside with the flat of his palm.
“Not that easy,” Dain said.
He and Telar sparred for half an hour, and sweat was drenching his shirt when he noticed Sera watching them from the corner.
“Enough,” he said, throwing Telar aside with a great heave and a huff of amused breath.
“Tired already? Jin said you’d grown soft,” Telar teased after shapeshifting back. “She said a bunch of toothless old orcs almost got you, and when she found you Regan and Hexen were doing all the fighting for you.”
“Jin exaggerates. They started with at least half their teeth, and then I knocked them all out.”
“How are your injuries, dear heart?” Sera asked.
“Fine, love,” Dain replied, flexing his arms and hands. “I feel fine. I can carry my weight. If all goes well we’ll keep them outside.”
“Doesn’t it seem like we’ve done all of this before?” Sera said, mouth drawn down into a weary frown. “How can we be facing Koren all over again for the fate of our people?”
“History has a way of spinning like a wheel, not running like a river,” he answered with a sigh. “Let’s hope it ends better than last time.” Dain smiled. “Though I would almost settle for any ending at all.”
“I’d rather it be one in which we all live,” Sera said, her tone wry but her face still serious.
“Razel is ready. It is time,” Dain said, taking her hand in his.
The three of them came down into the courtyard. Razel stood beside a large wooden contraption, his chest even more puffed up than usual.
“So what is this thing, Razel?” Dain asked.
“Never seen one before?” Razel beamed. “Well, few have. This is a dwarvish catapult.”
“And how does it work?” Sera said. “There’s no tension on the firing arm.”
“No tension on this weapon. The shot goes here in the sling, and there’s a counterweight on the other end. We poured it full of lead.” Razel pointed to a wooden bucket. “When the catch is released the counterweight drops, the long arm whips up and around, gaining speed as it goes, and the sling throws the shot. We’re using a two-hundred-pound ball.”
“How far will it fire?” Dain asked, impressed. He’d heard of these weapons before, but never seen one in person. In the Empire, they’d lacked the knowledge to build them and the drive to seek out those who did, relying on tension-style catapults instead.
“Three hundred yards at least,” Razel said with pride. “We added more counterweight than usual. Some of the spellcasters shaped this wood and hardened it for this purpose. They claim it’s unbreakable, but we’ll see. You can’t always trust an—” The dwarf cut himself off and eyed Sera nervously. Sera only smiled.
“Three hundred yards is almost to the gold road,” Dain said. “You should be able to hit their whole camp.”
“That’s the idea. We can add or take away weight to adjust the range in closer. I’ve got a few men working on some special shots to raise hell in their camp.” Razel smiled smugly.
“Fire?” Dain said.
“Among other things.”
“Will it be ready tonight?”
“Yes.” Razel’s smile went from smug to devious.
An hour before dark, the catapult flung its first load.
Dain stood with his family on the west tower and watched the heavy stone’s arc through the twilight air.
Contrary to Razel’s estimate, it landed beyond the gold road, missing the enemy camp entirely.
A dwarf signaled Razel from the east tower and shouted down directions. Sera covered Rhone’s ears as Razel cursed and yelled out instructions at his men. The dwarves scrambled, making adjustments to the siege engine for several minutes, then loaded a second shot.
The catch released with a clang, then came the creak of wood, and then the shot flew away. This one arced high, seemed to pause, and then crashed into the farthest part of the enemy encampment. It sent bodies flying in all directions, and the camp erupted into chaos. Resembling an angry anthill, elves, demons, and the undead alike scrambled to find cover. On the empty field, there was none.
Razel’s crew adjusted again, and the third shot hit the invader’s camp dead center.
When it landed, Jin struck.
Concealed in the woods to the north, her rangers fired volley after volley of arrows. Dain signaled the tower archers to start their own volleys, and then the castle’s sole ballista did the same.
He called for fire, and burning arrows fell like hail on the invaders. The rangers burst from the trees then and made a daring strike, hacking down Risen and Golden alike.
This is too easy, Dain thought. There has to be more to it than this. As soon as the concern crossed his mind, the tide began
shifting. The Risen started to organize and fight back. They were quick, savage, brutal. Wounds that should have been mortal merely slowed them; only after sword cleaved bone did they stop fighting.
Jin’s rangers stalled, then faltered. The Risen started pushing them back into the forests, and Risen and demon alike hounded them through the trees.
“No,” Dain said, “She’s going too far and committing too much of her forces. She needs to break away now and get free from them before they trap her.”
“She’s going to be overrun,” Sera said. There was fear quivering in her voice. Fear for her child. She’d lost Jace, her oldest brother, to this same maneuver.
“Razel, be ready to lower the gate,” Dain cried. He couldn’t let Jin get caught. He couldn’t allow her to fall while watching from the castle.
“What? Are you crazy? We can’t go out and face that,” Razel barked.
“Do it! And be ready to raise it right back up,” Dain said.
“Telar, fly over to the other tower and tell them to sound their horns the moment the gate hits the ground. Sera, do the same on this end.”
Telar beamed, glad for even the smallest of tasks. He changed into a big black crow in a blur of feathers and flapped his shining wings over to the other tower.
Dain took the tower steps two at a time. He found Gashan in full armor in the courtyard. His men were marshaled and formed up into rows. Every golden elf guardsman was matched by a Paladin, also in full battle gear.
“Gashan, get your men up to the gate. Rows and columns the width of it. Gather the Paladins as well, Hexen.”
“You plan on sending us out into that maelstrom?” Gashan asked. “Must be going better than I thought.”
“Or worse,” Hexen added.
“Just follow my lead,” Dain said. He drew his sword and moved to the head of the column.
Telar leaned out over the castle’s wall and caught his eye. They were ready.
“NOW,” Dain yelled.
Deep horns blew, drowning out all other sounds of battle. They kept ringing, and Dain felt his heart pounding heavily in his chest. Light, please let this work. Please let it be in time.
The horns stopped and the gate slammed down with a thundering crash.
Dain screamed. He raised his sword and pointed it toward the enemy.
Every eye outside locked on him. Golden elves, Risen, and demons all turned to face him. Dain started ahead at a march. He forced his eyes forward, not looking behind to see if he marched out alone.
The invaders were scrambling to form up now. As one, they turned to the castle. They screamed defiance and drew their weapons eagerly.
At the gate’s edge, Dain stopped. He heard the steps of the men behind him stop as well. He drew a line in the sand with his sword. He leaned forward and spat across it. Then he paused for a moment, his gaze sweeping the full width of the enemy side to side.
Slowly, deliberately, he turned on his heel and faced the men behind him.
Hexen and Gashan stood closest. Both men were battle-hardened. There wasn’t any hint of fear in their eyes, but they were nervous. Battle always seemed like a good idea when men studied their maps. Facing almost certain death put the lie to that. He gave them a half-smile.
“Pivot and march,” he said.
Their faces betrayed the relief they felt. Hexen even smiled back; a rare sight on the big man’s face.
“No running, Hexen. We don’t want to lose all our dignity today.”
He heard the roars of rage behind him. Demons howled and the Risen wailed. They raced for the open gate, but the closest of them was still a hundred yards distant. They’d never make it. Still, no use taking chances.
“Archers, aim for the nearest and take them down,” Dain called up to the men atop the wall.
“Razel,” Dain shouted, “are you inviting them in for tea? Get this damned gate up.”
The gate crept up and the enemy vanished from view, Dain and his men safely behind it. Razel approached him.
“And what did that prove?” the dwarf asked.
Sera ran down the stairs to embrace Dain. “I think it worked. Most of them stopped and turned back from the woods when the trumpets sounded.”
“It won’t work again,” Dain said, holding her tight. “That, Razel, helped the rangers escape, and it proved we can jerk Koren’s chain.”
The day ended, and the enemy continued to howl at the gate. Dain and Sera waited atop the east tower. They’d worked out a signal system with Jin earlier. Sera paced anxiously.
Telar saw it first.
“There she is!” He pointed at a small orange fire glowing on a hill well away from Koren’s camp.
“She’ll signal four times if all goes well,” Dain said.
A blue flash came three times, paused, then three again.
“What does three mean?” Luren said. She’d joined them after Dain’s adventure outside the gate.
“Three for how many of the rangers remain,” Sera said, a hand coming up to her heart. “She’s lost a quarter of them.”
“Lost or wounded,” Dain said. There were eight hundred rangers with Jin when she’d started out. Normally, a young girl—young woman, and a Paladin, he corrected himself—of her age wouldn’t be trusted with such a responsibility, but Jin was different. Dain had been teaching her tactics and battlecraft for years, preparing her to lead. Still, it was different in the doing.
They would be at camp now, seeing to their wounded, healing those they could and offering comfort to those they couldn’t. Burying their dead. A grim task, and one of the horrors that sapped away youth quicker than any other. When Jin returned she’d be changed, and not for the better.
Dain looked at the terrible army assembled outside the castle gate. They’d taken a nibble off it, but many more remained.
He hoped Jin would have a place to come back to.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Councilor Alpere checked his appearance in the mirror. He hadn’t worn the cloak in years, but it still fit properly, concealing the bulk beneath.
Most of his allies were gone. Gashan and the greatest portion of his guards had followed after the rightful queen, and Kray, once a valued advisor, had been a traitor all along.
Still, Alpere had his influence and his wisdom; influence he would use to try to save his people from folly, wisdom in how to accomplish it. The councilor didn’t regret the burden now resting on his shoulders. In some ways he looked forward to the task before him. One final challenge for a tired old man.
At the appointed time, the carriage picked him up. He apologized for needing help from the driver to climb aboard.
A decade younger and I wouldn’t have needed it.
Rolling through the deserted streets, Alpere’s mind traveled back to another silenced city. It had been in a corner of his former kingdom, a place few went; he couldn’t even remember its name. He saw the fine white sand piled up in small, trackless dunes at each building’s corners. A film of dust and sand coated every surface. His kingdom’s once proud banners hung limp, ragged, and faded.
It was the first city lost to the Skree. The first to be swallowed by the desert. More cities followed. In a year there were a dozen more. In five there were a hundred. Checking for survivors, he and his patrol had been the last to leave.
In retrospect, it had been his homeland’s first death rattle. A decade later he’d been among the few survivors to witness the last.
“Councilor, we’ve arrived.” The driver held the door open for him. “Do you need help getting inside?”
“Thank you for the offer, Edcar, but I will manage.”
“Are you arguing on behalf of our young queen?” Edcar asked, eyes inquisitive and earnest.
“I am. I aim to convince the Council to suppo
rt her over Koren,” Alpere answered. Edgar had driven him for almost five years now and had spoken unbidden less than a half-dozen times. Usually, he had to prod the man to speak. “And what are your thoughts on this matter, master driver?”
Edcar turned his eyes to the forum. In consideration, he scratched at his chin.
“I think they are a hard-headed lot, present company excluded, and if you need help softening up their heads a bit, let me know. I’ll gather up some of the boys and we’ll do some convincing. Koren was bad enough before, and I ain’t serving no hell-spawn demon.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, Edcar,” Alpere chuckled. He eyed the long steps up into the forum and wondered if he should reconsider the driver’s offer. No, it would ruin what I’m trying to accomplish. Today, too much depended on him.
Gathered inside was the Council of Nobles—men and women who’d been chosen to serve the interests of the people. Elam had appointed most of them during his reign, and a large portion still held the royal family in reverence. Another portion had been appointed by the Council’s senior members to replace those who had died or retired after Elam was lost. These individuals held no particular allegiance to the royal line. Most of them wanted to go on with no ruler at all.
Jin was to be the bridge between the two; a ruler of Elam’s heritage, and one willing to allow the Council and the people greater freedoms as her mother did in the wood elf lands.
Koren’s return threatened years of planning between he and Gashan. Now the rift between the Council’s two sides was greater than ever before. Caryle, the Council’s oldest member, sat on one side of the forum’s marble benches, a pack of loyalist supporters gathered around him. Opposite him was Trieme, one of the early replacements and owner of the largest mill in town. Her husband had built it with his bare hands, and under her leadership, they’d prospered.
Paladin's Fall: Kingdom's Forge Book 2 Page 27