by Candy Rae
Kalavdr stood panting and waiting. He listened to the fight outside as his personal guard fought to prevent any humans following their Largan through the door. After a while the sounds of the fighting ceased and Kalavdr breathed a sigh of relief. He waited for one of his guard to push open the door and tell him that it was safe to come out but the door stayed still and unmoving.
He tensed, ears forward and nose twitching.
He heard voices, human voices and knew his guard were dead.
Kalavdr waited.
Nothing came through the door.
He heard a sound from above and raised his head, muscles tensing.
The pick-axe flew through the air, thrown from the top of the stairs by an ex-slave called Dwk. Dwk’s aim was true.
The pick-axe embedded itself in Kalavdr’s skull. His body crashed twitching to the floor.
To Dwk this was just another Larg he had managed to kill, older and bigger than many of the others, but nothing special. He never knew just how important the death of Kalavdr was.
Those Larg still fighting sensed Kalavdr’s death and their heart to fight went out of them.
Some decided to try and fight their way out of the town.
A few made it.
A few tried to surrender but they were not many. To surrender meant disgrace and dishonour.
* * * * *
Elliot and Robain
It was over.
The town, for three days filled with the screaming and the shouting grew silent as the exhausted victors began to realise that they were alive and that against all the odds, they had succeeded in routing the Larg.
Princess Susan and what remained of her War Guard stood at the very edge of the market place and watched as a lone figure extracted himself from the crowds of jubilant people and made his unsteady way towards her.
Some paces away, the figure stopped and removed his helm.
“Hello Mother,” Elliot greeted her and remained so, self-conscious and embarrassed as everyone around him, including his mother, sank to their knees.
LONG LIVE KING ELLIOT!
The market place and the entire town resounded with wave upon wave of shouting.
“Sorry it took so long,” Elliot added with a tired grin.
* * * * *
It was late when the exhausted Elliot and Robain made their way up the steep, Robain was positive sure that it was perpendicular in places, hill to the Citadel. They passed through tired but cheering crowds who all wanted to take a look at their new King and get close enough to touch him.
The townsfolk opened their doors (or what remained of them) to the victorious ex-slaves. As Elliot said to Robain; it did not seem to matter whose origins were what.
Of the forty-thousand slaves who had entered Fort a full quarter were dead or waiting to die. Over a thousand of them were children, some very young. Robain himself had witnessed a group of six ragged youngsters, the oldest could not have been more than eight, emerge from a doorway and leap on top of a Larg armed with nothing more than wooden clubs and pieces of rough rope. They had succeeded in bringing the Larg to his knees and had beaten him senseless but not before two of the children had been killed and a third badly mauled.
Robain and Elliot had spent the last candle-marks visiting the wounded and thanking them for what they had done. The ex-slaves were surprised and gratified. As Brent said - he had limped out of one of the houses to greet them - it was the first time in most of their lives that they were being treated as people and not chattels. Those coming from the non-royal mines were the most surprised.
Robain had still not found his sister Aline or found out anything concerning either her or his mother’s fate. It was as if the two of them had disappeared into thin air that day the slavers had swept down on the Island of Hallam.
Elliot told him not to give up hope. There were still plenty of mines elsewhere in Sahara but Robain was despondent.
The townswomen did what they could to mend the often horrific wounds of the fighters, ripping up their best linens to make bandages and donating the contents of their wardrobes to clothe the often ragged individuals who were occupying their living spaces.
There was not much food to go round but what there was, was shared.
Even up the hill in the palace, food rationing was in place, Princess Susan having decreed that no person, however high-born was to receive any more to eat than the lowest street urchin.
“I can’t wait to see my sisters,” said Elliot to Robain as they passed over the moat-bridge and into the outer complex. “You’ll like them Robain.”
“I’m sure I shall,” Robain answered, “but are you certain I should be here with you? I’m not one of the nobility. I can find a place to sleep.” At this point sleep or even the chance to sleep was at the forefront of Robain’s mind. Neither he nor Elliot had been wounded except for some scratches but he was bruised all over. He couldn’t wait to get his armour off.
“Certainly not!” declared Elliot, shocked. “You’re staying right beside me. We did this together you and I.”
As they passed through the palace gardens the servants were clearing up the mess the refugees had left behind.
The guards came to attention at the doors to the royal apartments and they passed into the cool interior. An oasis of calm enveloped them.
“They’ll be in the solar,” said an eager Elliot, quickening his steps. Robain stumbled as he tried to keep up. He watched from just inside the solar door as three girls leapt at Elliot with squeals of delight. He drew back, shy, but a silver-haired lady with sad eyes and dressed in expensive brocaded black approached him.
“Captain Hallam? I am Mary, Dowager Queen of Murdoch. I am Elliot’s grandmother and I, we, owe you a very great debt.”
* * * * *
“Who’s that man?” asked Elliot’s sister Susan when at last the excitement began to die down.
“My friend, Captain Robain Hallam of the Argyll Garda,” Elliot answered with a smile.
“He’s very handsome and nice too, look at the way he’s chatting to Mary and Janet.”
“He is very nice,” agreed her brother. “We’ve been through a lot together.”
“Will you introduce us?” asked Susan.
“Can’t you introduce yourself?” Elliot teased.
“I think it should be done properly,” insisted Susan and whispered in Elliot’s ear, “you see, he’s the man I’m going to marry!”
“He’s already got a lady,” whispered back Elliot, half amused, half exasperated.
“Not a wife. I overheard him tell Janet. Keep him here for me will you Elliot? Don’t let him go back to Argyll.”
“I was intending to do that already,” Elliot answered with a conspiratorial wink. “Take my arm little sister and we’ll go and join them if that is what you desire.”
“Why King Elliot,” she replied with a coy little curtsey, “I don’t mind if I do!”
* * * * *
The Guildmaster and the Lai
Flying is the most exhilaratingly marvellous, wonderful, stupendous experience I have never known!
Guildmaster Annert wouldn’t have missed this for all the kala on the planet. The great sweeping of Haru’s wings as they flew over the northern coast of Argyll and over the waters filled him with amazed delight. He wished the journey could go on for ever.
He held on tight to the ropes and gazed at the vista that unfolded before him.
Haru, who had appointed himself the mount of the Guildmaster tilted his wings, leaking air and fell a little, seeking out the thermal that would carry them to the southern continent.
* * * * *
Julia
It was like thunder in the air, the sound of the kohorts running towards the ridge. The Lind scouts had returned with the dawn, bringing with them the news about the detailed dispositions and numbers of the enemy.
Now there was no more need for scouts and the exhausted Avuzdel scrambled as fast as their weary legs could take them up the southern
side of the ridge, weaving through the path of stakes left open for them. As soon as the scouts were in, the engineers hurried down-slope to fill in the gaps, their hammers thudding at the wood with frantic haste.
Julia donned her helm. Alyei was already wearing his armour and stood tall and calm as he watched her check that the leather shin greaves were tight and stood up. Vada battle armour was made of leather studied with metal and was designed to protect yet not inhibit the suppleness and manoeuvrability of either vadeln or Lind. The Lind wore chest and neck protectors. In a fight the favourite attack point of the Larg was the throat, using their teeth to rip out their opponent’s jugular. The Lind would endeavour to respond in kind.
The four ‘home’ Lindars (there were four Lind rtath, or packs whose home was in Vadath) wore the same and so did another four whose fighters lived near to that indefinite line between Vadath and the Rtathlians of the Lind. It was the Lindars from these rtaths who stood waiting on the ridge in the very middle of the army. It was they who would bear the brunt of the first charge of the kohorts.
As expected, the Larg were advancing on a wide front (there were so many of them that they could do little else) but the majority of kohorts were congregating in the centre.
Julia had planned the placement of the different parts of her army with care and with an understanding of their varying strengths and weaknesses. This was why in such times that the Susa of the Vada became Susyc of the Armies of the North. The Vada trained with every type of soldier. Julia knew where to place her troops to maximum advantage. Even the Field Marshall of the Garda had placed himself under her overall command.
The ridge was a long one, too long for one person to control, to be aware of what was happening from one end to the other so Julia had divided it into eight sections, she called them divisions, each with its own sub-commander.
At either end, where the ridge entered the forests of Duchesne were the divisions commanded by the Dukes of Graham and Duchesne. Beside them were the Garda under Field Marshall Bruce Johnston Jones and General Vivien de Groot, both officers of long standing. Then came the Vada under the command of Ryzcka Niall and his Lind Taraya of the First Ryzck and Ryzcka Brion and his Lind Quindya of the Fifty-first. In the middle, the fourth and fifth divisions, were stationed the Lindars of Lind.
Behind them was the command post where Julia and Alyei would direct the battle with the help of the communications pivot. There too was the map table with its little coloured counters. General Sainjon was in charge of this - he was the Garda’s best tactician and an officer on whom Julia had come to rely on over the last days.
Behind them waited the Militia, more Garda, more Vada, more Lindars and behind them were the support troops, the medics, the cooks and the commissariat, protected by trenches that Julia had ordered dug. At either end was the horse cavalry.
In the woods waited the many young Lind, not yet fourteen summers old who for the first time ever had accompanied their elders to the war (in fact, many of the human troops were also young, some of the Vada Cadets had only just turned fourteen). In the past the Larg had tried to outflank the northern defensive lines and Julia had needed to make provision for this eventuality. The forests were dense and the Larg did not like to fight among trees but there was always the chance that they would attempt a foray.
Julia was confident that the Larg would concentrate on the ridge. They outnumbered the defenders and they would see no need to try an outflankment.
: Time to go :
Alyei’s deep blue eyes rested upon her.
: Anything from Danal and Asya? : she asked.
: Not since the last time :
Julia sighed. Details about the progress about the mission to find the power-core had been sparse. The Larg could ‘overhear’ telepathic ‘sendings’ and Julia knew that the group would not want to give away their position, hence the silence.
: The Lai? :
: They will be in position soon. Chizu collected the package from Master Annert the day before yesterday. He waits for word that the power-core has been found :
: I wish there was some way we could help them : fretted Julia.
: We are helping them … the only way we can. The eyes of the Larg are here where the battle will take place. That of the Dglai too. Zaoaldavdr reports that none of the Quorko has he seen in the skies above him :
: None here either thank the lai :
: They will be waiting to see if the Larg are victorious : ‘said’ Alyei, nodding his head in a wise manner : our task is clear. Hold on to the ridge at all cost. We must give Danal, Asya and the others the time they need :
: It will be expensive :
: Our army knows this Julia. Now, come, as you said, it is time to go. Our army is brave and is prepared to do what it must. You and I must also be brave. They are looking to you, to us :
: I will not fail them :
: That’s my girl :
Julia laughed at the old quip and led the way out of the tent and to the vantage point behind the ridge line.
* * * * *
Niaill
Niaill and Taraya had been placed in command of the third sector, the third division on the right wing of the ridge. To his right were the ranks of the Garda under the command of General Vivien de Groot and to his left a number of Lindars under the command of Susa Sachei.
Niaill looked over at the massed ranks of the Larg and realised Julia had been correct in her assumption that their enemy would attack the four centre divisions first.
The Larg were not emotionally suited to nibbling away at edges. They preferred the direct approach.
: They’ll hit here first : confirmed Taraya. Niaill could feel her restless body beneath him as she moved from one paw to another. Her head ducked down as she inspected her chelas which she tracted and retracted in preparation for the battle.
The First Ryzck, which Niall and Taraya commanded were not standing at the front of the massed Ryzcks of the third division. That honour had gone to the Fourteenth Ryzck under the command of Lainert and Salya and the Thirty-first under the command of Markion and Danya. Niall would have much rather been at the front but because Julia and Alyei had placed him and Taraya in command he could not. He and Taraya could not afford to get themselves killed during the first frenzied Larg attack.
This time it was their duty to command from behind and he and Taraya felt awkward, awkward and not a little nervous about the responsibility.
: What if I’m not up to the task? :
: You are … you will be :
: We’re in this together you and I. No shirking of your responsibilities my lass! :
Never had he felt so as one with his Taraya.
: They come : she informed him, beginning to tremble and to shake as the famed battle adrenalin of the Lind began to course through her veins.
: Warn the Ryzckas and the infantry :
: Wilco :
The infantry in his sector of the line were those of the Vadathian Militia, who unlike their Argyllian counterparts had trained with both Vada and Lindars. They stood behind the front Ryzcks. There was little to distinguish them from the Argyllian Militia except for the colour of their uniform that was grey and maroon instead of black.
From his vantage point Niaill could see the kohorts, wave upon wave of tawny bodies. He couldn’t work out where one kohort ended and another began.
Taraya began to growl.
With his free hand Niaill adjusted the chin-guard on his helm. Taraya began to inch forward, hoping he wouldn’t notice.
: Steady : cautioned Niaill. His heart was hammering in his chest. He felt sure it was loud enough to be heard. He snuck a look at Deby on his left and caught her eye. Nadala waved to him. Deby was biting her lip and Niaill realised he was doing the same. The air around them grew stiff with tension as they waited for the thundering paws to run the distance from their start point and the base of the ridge.
Niaill was under no illusion that the stakes would hold the Larg back for long
. This charge was not one of mindless instinct. The Larg were as intelligent as their Lind cousins. This first charge and the one after would be in the nature of a clearance foray. The lead kohorts would begin to clear a path through the stakes under the fire of the crossbow bolts and arrows of the defenders.
He licked suddenly dry lips. Taraya inched forward again.
: Archers : commanded Niaill. Taraya passed this order on to the communications pairs. The commands from the sergeants rang out. The Militia archers ran out from their ranks and took up position between the vadeln-pairs of the front rank.
“Wait, wait, wait. Wait until they are in range.”
All the non-commissioned officers seemed to be shouting the same words though not necessarily in that order. There were a lot of swear words mixed in with what they were saying.
A few heartbeats later and the crossbow bolts whirred above their heads. The Larg ranks did not falter. The arrows would be in range soon and they would hear the twanging flicks as they left their quiver.
The lead kohorts reached the base of the ridge where they began pulling at the sharpened stakes, digging at them with their huge paws, loosening the mud into which the stakes had been hammered, loosening them then opening their jaws to pull the stakes out.
“Fire!”
There was a whooshing noise as the first storm of arrows flew up, out and down on to their targets.
Niaill listened to the howls and screams of anger and pain as the arrows hit, but more Larg moved forward to take the place of their fallen comrades.