by Rutger Krenn
The Duke ducked and rolled but to little avail. A large fragment of stone struck him in the shoulder and then his head. The force of the blow knocked him flat on the ground but he pushed himself up to his knees, blood flowing freely down his face, and looked about. One of the tentacles began to feel its way in his direction. Men fell back or stood in indecision, their blades of little avail and the fear of death strong upon them.
“To me! To me!” called Cadrafer, rallying the men. He ran forward and several soldiers followed and they began to hack and slash with all their might.
The tentacle was slowed but it still reached for Kenrik and a wave of dizziness swept over him. His mind was slow and incoherent. He remembered Arandur’s warning though. He would be targeted and knew that the tentacle was deliberately seeking him. Some power of the Turgil guided it. He shook his head and staggered up, stepping drunkenly beyond its reach.
Soon his mind began to clear and he realized the fighting couldn’t last much longer. The creature would breach the wall soon and then all would be lost.
He looked up at the tower and saw Arandur watching. His gaze was unreadable, but he remembered his words. “Something comes now which will be beyond you. It will be of magic. Men must fight Goblins, and Wizardry must stand against sorcery. It is for this that I have come.”
Kenrik wondered what the Wizard could do against a thing such as this. It seemed as though Arandur was outmatched, that the dark sorcery of the Turgil was beyond his power to counter. If so, they were all doomed. Soldiers, Wizard, and the nation of Aren Daleth.
The ways of Wizardry were beyond him though. He was a soldier and would fight with his sword in hand as best he could. More tentacles writhed atop the wall as the creature pulled itself higher. The great beak was now level with the top of the rampart and the stench of decay was nearly overpowering.
One eye, a great and malevolent black orb, peered over the rim. It was like a window into a dark world of terror. It was an eye that held intelligence, which looked and comprehended what it saw. It was an eye filled with malice; with hatred for the things it was about to destroy and with hunger for their lives.
The men on the battlements, even Cadrafer, stood in shock as the eye contemplated them and observed their faltering efforts to hinder it. The Kraken blinked slowly, and a creasy fold of flesh, encrusted with the same slime that covered the rest of its body, moved across the orb momentarily hiding the chilling gaze.
Cadrafer surprised them all. With a sudden burst of speed he leaped into movement and raced along the battlements. Diving and rolling in one smooth motion he came to his feet again with a discarded spear.
He ran on. Even as the creature opened its eyes and saw the man running toward it Cadrafer sprang. The spear was held firmly before him, the butt of the weapon braced against his body so that there would be no give.
The blade of the spear flashed through the air. Cadrafer drove down with all his weight into the eye of the Kraken. The huge creature screamed, its gaping maw widening and the stench from its mouth increasing. It squealed again and raised itself higher in an attempt to protect itself. The spear bent, then broke with a snap, audible over the roaring of the Kraken. The two halves of the spear fell down and the defenders saw that the orb was injured, but not pierced. Even its eye was armored against weapons. The creature had been hurt, wounded even, but not stopped. It was enraged even more than before and they knew their deaths would come swiftly. But now at least they felt they could do it some harm before it dashed their lives away.
Arandur finally acted. Kenrik saw him lift the staff out of the corner of his eye and point it at the Kraken. White fire leapt from its tip. It was blinding; a flash of bright silver that bridged the gap between Wizard and Kraken and joined them together. The flame struck the creature and sliced with precision into the same eye that had been injured. It reared back again, lifting itself higher, turning and twisting on the battlements to protect itself from this new threat. Stone crenellations crumpled into puffs of dust as tentacles writhed to and fro. Many of them freed themselves from their grip on the walls and came searching for Arandur. They lashed against the tower with the intent of finding him and crushing his life as they had done to many others.
The Wizard’s voice boomed out, louder than the wailing of the creature from the deep, “Now!” he yelled. “Attack the tentacles on the crenellations!”
Kenrik understood his purpose. The Kraken was off balance. It was leaning back to escape the fire and had released many of the grips that held it in place to seek out the cause of its pain. If its hold could be loosened it would fall.
“To me! To me!” he yelled and ran in, hacking and slashing at the nearest tentacle that was secured against the wall. In moments he was joined by other soldiers. Their combined efforts against this single tentacle achieved little though. But soon other men arrived, led by Barad, his double-bladed axe held aloft. The others carried great axes; tools meant for woodcutting, not fighting, but they had been retrieved from the storerooms and their greater weight cut deeper into the flesh of the tentacle. The swordsmen stood away allowing the others to go to work and soon the tentacle was severed.
The axemen ran to other tentacles and began their butchering work once more. Slithering limbs searched for them, seeking to rend them in half, to crush and destroy, but the soldiers rallied and protected the axemen as best they could. Another cheer went up from the men as the second tentacle was cut. More whipped out at them, too many for the soldiers to protect against. They came sweeping through them and toward the axemen, one of whom was caught up and hurled over the battlements to fall screaming to his death.
But the Kraken had miscalculated. The fire burned white hot against it; the pain from the flame maddened it and the wounds to its limbs enraged it. It turned and twisted too far to escape the fire and overbalanced. No longer could its tentacles hold it in place. Its weight shifted backwards. The strain on the remaining tentacles was too much and crenellations gave way, one after the other. Grey dust filled the air where mortar sprayed up from disintegrating stonework. Slowly, ineluctably, the creature fell back. One moment it hung suspended in the air, the dark pit of its massive eye burning with hatred. Then the eye disappeared from view. The beaked maw worked in a scream of frustration as it fell from sight. Tentacles flung upwards, desperately gripping anything that could be found, men and stone, but nothing supported it. Moments later there was a huge crash and then a low pitched wailing like the sound of a wounded animal. Then there was silence.
The soldiers, badly shaken, edged toward the ragged battlements. They went slowly, fearing the ramparts would give way, but only the crenellations had been damaged.
The men peered down and far below lay the body of the Kraken. It was a broken and twisted thing. Its pallid and bloated corpse lay punctured and lifeless on the ground. Green ichor and entrails pooled around it and the stench wafting up to them was sickening. But they had won.
The soldiers cheered and yelled and nearly danced with elation. Men with bloody wounds and broken bones momentarily forgot their pain. They cheered and whooped with the very joy of life and the defeat of such an enemy against the odds.
Kenrik watched as slowly, and with frail steps, Arandur came down from the tower. He did not smile. He did not join in the celebrations. The Duke turned to him and his smile vanished as he realized the Wizard was near to collapse. It was Arandur who had saved them, but at what price?
“Are you well?” he asked.
“I will recover,” said Arandur, leaning heavily upon his staff. The Duke thought he looked older. His once pink flushed skin was ashen and his eyes had lost their glint. He seemed frail to the point of death.
“Quickly,” he said to one of the soldiers nearby, “fetch some chairs and wine.”
“Yes, sir!” said the soldier and ran off.
“I must admit,” he said, “I thought we were finished just before. It was well for us that you were here, but you certainly left it to the last minute!”
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Arandur smiled and some of his fatigue lifted. He straightened a little and nodded.
“There’s a lesson in this for you. Anyone can act. It’s the easiest thing in the world to jump into something feet first, but knowing when to act is the most important thing.”
“I see,” said the Duke.
“If I had attacked earlier,” continued Arandur “I would have hurt the creature, but not stopped it. It would have been slowed but it would still have climbed the battlements. It would have just been more careful. I had to wait until the right moment when it would be most vulnerable. The Kraken is a creature of the deep sea. It swims and drifts within the deeps, where the pressing of the water around it, far, far below the surface, supports its huge weight. Above water, it is not aided in this way. The best hope was to cause it to fall and let its own bulk work to our advantage. So it proved to be. Nevertheless, it was just as well for us that Cadrafer acted as he did. That was the pivotal moment. That, and the arrival of the axemen.”
Kenrik scanned the battlements and saw the soldier returning with chairs and another with a small table. Wine, bread and cheese were soon placed upon it.
“Thank you,” said Arandur and sat down quickly. He still appeared very frail to Kenrik who was quick to pour wine for them both. At least he could see some color creeping back into the Wizard’s skin and the trembling in his hands was subsiding.
They drank a little and ate the bread and cheese, watching as a stream of men came to the battlements and took their turn to look over at the body of the Kraken. Even in death it sent a shiver of fear up their spine. Should Aren Daleth survive, the story of the battle with the monster from the deep would spread far and wide across Andoras. It was a great triumph.
He looked over the battlements and saw the lines of Goblins. They were in dismay. Their summoning had failed and the power of the Turgil had been challenged and, for the moment, turned aside.
Arandur seemed to read his mind. “They are downcast now,” he said. “They are very superstitious and not even the Turgil could make them attack at the moment, but tomorrow will be a different day. They will come again. The Turgil himself is another matter though. He has failed in his attempt to defeat us. He will try again also, but he need not wait. He will be drained from his use of power, even as am I, but he is stronger and will recover sooner. I must leave you shortly and return to the tower. If he catches us by surprise we are lost.”
“I understand,” said Kenrik. “Is there anything we can do to help you?”
“No, my friend. There is nothing. As I said, men must fight Goblins and Wizardry contend with sorcery. We must both struggle in our own ways as best we can until Talon and Arell return. It is on them that our ultimate fate rests.”
Kenrik nodded but didn’t answer. What Arandur had said was right but Thromdar couldn’t stand much longer. They were too few against too many. They had been lucky with the Kraken for the monster could easily have destroyed them all.
Timing, he thought. He knew there had been a lesson in Arandur’s earlier words, but it was time itself that Thromdar needed now, and though it was his job to make the siege last as long as possible he saw no way of prolonging the inevitable.
Arandur stood up. “I will go now,” he said. “You should get some rest while you can and have your wounds tended to. Tomorrow you will be needed most of all.”
“I shall,” he said, and watched as the Wizard carefully mounted the stairs of the tower. He looked better now. He was an old man still, but there was steel in his body and his mind was strong. He would not give in. Not ever. How he wished he had ten Wizards! But he must make do with the one and the soldiers that he had.
He walked away and signaled for men to remove the table and chairs. He needed rest. He’d forgotten the wound he’d received but a dull throbbing headache was growing and rubbing his temple his hand came away with congealed blood.
He walked down the stairs at the back of the battlements and into the castle proper. Soon he made his way to the large hall in the center that had been set aside for a hospice. There were many men in pain. Some would not live through the night, and though it was a place of death and misery he detected something else. There was an uplifting of spirit even here. In the darkest place there was still some hope in the eyes of the soldiers as he walked past their pallets. Some saluted feebly from their beds. He smiled at them all and gave each a word or two of encouragement.
He sensed that the killing of the Kraken had heartened the men. It was a great feat and they had held fast in spite of what had been thrown at them. Cadrafer and Barad had shown incredible bravery.
Pride surged in him. The defenders of Thromdar were men! He was privileged to walk among them, to be counted one of their group. These were people willing to give their lives so that others might live, and there was a spirit among them now, a feeling of fellowship and joy amidst death and sorrow.
Was that the purpose of life? Was that its meaning?
Chapter 17
Talon lay back as Arell stitched his wound. He made no sound as the sharp needle pierced his skin and the thread drew the edges of the cut together. She worked quickly and efficiently trying to cause no more pain than necessary. He marveled at the dexterity of her touch and enjoyed the soft feel of her hands on his chest.
She had saved his life. She had rejoined him and risked the Chung. Why? She should have gone on and reached the army but she had come back. There could only be one reason. She had come back for him. And in doing so she’d given a fine display of archery. Few could shoot with such accuracy under pressure. He had been wrong about her from the beginning. He should have welcomed her on this journey and not opposed her. She had rare skill and that was matched by courage. He would tell her so.
Arell bit the thread off with her teeth and tied the end. “I wish there was wine or honey to bathe this,” she said, “but we’ll have to make the most of it.”
Talon pointed to the sorrel. “Have a look in my saddlebag and bring back the small pouches you’ll find there. Some of them contain herbs that help to prevent infection.”
Arell did as he asked and brought the pouches over. Some contained whole leaves while others had been ground to a powder. There were other things as well; long thin needles of slender bone. None of them had eyes in their ends and so were not intended for sewing.
“What are these?” she asked, showing them to Talon.
“They’re called Bin Shih, which basically just means needles. They’re used in the healing art of Chen Pien, which is the manipulation the body’s energy. Likewise, you can influence the energy with your hands to cause injury in combat. That’s a high level skill though.”
Arell knelt down and handed him the pouches. He took pinches of several dried powders and sprinkled them over the stitched wound, gently working them into the skin. As he did so he became aware of her attention.
She was looking at the scars on his arms where the blades of the Goblins had cut him as a child. He didn’t like people seeing them but the injuries were just as much a part of him as the way the event itself had shaped his life. There was no reason to hide them from her, no more than he would wish to hide his personality. He felt increasingly guilty at concealing his true name though, even if he did have good reasons for that. He was who he was regardless of his father’s identity and nothing would make him reveal that.
“So,” said Arell, her lips pursing, “you have some explaining to do. I haven’t forgiven you yet for humiliating me at the castle. Do you think I’m just some woman whose hand in marriage can be won as a prize?”
There it was, thought Talon. He knew this moment would come. He’d known all along that she’d bring the subject up at some point and even guessed that she’d do it when least probable, and yet when it came it was still unexpected. He suddenly felt very uncomfortable. He was lying down without a shirt on and she was leaning over him with that aristocratic tilt of her head and eyes that looked ready to flash fire if he said the wrong thing.
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He stood quickly and put on his shirt. “It was a stupid thing for me to do,” he said with his eyes to the ground. “I don’t know why I said it. I guess I only wanted to upset Mecklem. Something about him put me offside from the beginning. He seemed to hate me for no reason at all.”
“Better and better!” said Arell standing up and her eyes darkening like a smoldering fire barely restrained. “You used me as a tool to get at another man. Is that supposed to please me?”
“That’s not what I meant. . .” said Talon, looking at the ground.
“Then what did you mean?”
“I don’t know! I was confused. One minute I was my normal self and the next moment those words just came out of my mouth. No one could have been more surprised than I was. I didn’t mean to say them. They came of their own accord and I have no idea why. I’m sorry, but I really don’t know why it happened. If we make it back safely to Thromdar and win the battle I won’t ask your father for any reward at all. I’ll move on to somewhere else. I don’t know where but I won’t give you any further problems.”
He glanced up and saw that Arell was looking at him strangely. There was an expression on her face that he couldn’t interpret. A bright green luster had replaced the smoldering look in her eyes and there was some emotion shining there but he couldn’t be sure what.
She looked away. “Getting back to Thromdar still seems like a long way in the future. Who knows what will happen?”
“That’s true,” he said.
It was time to change the subject before he said the wrong thing again. “First things first we must do something about these bodies, but we don’t have the tools or the time to bury them.”
Arell was surprised. “Perhaps we should just be on our way? They tried to kill us after all. We owe them nothing and we don’t have time to spare.”