Guy looked at his two companions. ‘It’ll take them a full day to get into position. So we gain two more days. But the day after tomorrow, even as dawn comes, he’ll hit us with everything he’s got.’
The third day passed slowly, while the defenders watched thousands of moredhel soldiers and their allies take position in the camps about the city. After sunset moving lines of torches showed that new companies were still arriving. Throughout the night the sound of marching soldiers filled the dark, and Guy, Amos, Arutha, and Armand repeatedly came to look out upon the sea of campfires across the plain of Armengar.
But the fourth day came and the besieging army only settled in, seemingly willing to bide their time. For the entire day the full army of defenders held to their places upon the walls, waiting for the assault. Near sundown, Arutha said to Amos, ‘You don’t think they’re going to try that Tsurani trick of attacking at night to divert our attention from sappers?’
Amos shook his head. ‘They’re not that clever. They wanted Segersen’s boys because they don’t have engineers. If they’ve got sappers tunnelling under these walls, I’d like to meet those lads: they’d have to be rock-eating gophers. No, they’re up to something, but nothing fancy. I just think his grand bastardhood has no sense he’s got trouble here. That arrogant swine-lover plans on overrunning us in one attack. That’s what I think.’
Guy listened, but his good eye was fixed upon the mass of enemies who camped upon the plain. At last he said, ‘We gain another day for your brother to get to Stone Mountain, Arutha.’ Martin and the others had been gone ten days now.
‘There is that,’ agreed Amos. They watched in silence as the sun set behind the mountains. They remained watching until darkness had completely taken hold, then slowly they left the wall to eat and, if possible, to rest.
At dawn a thunderous cheer erupted from the besieging host, a mixture of shouts, shrieks, the rattle of drums, and the blowing of horns. But instead of the anticipated attack, the van of the army opened and a large platform rolled forward. It was moved by the strength of a dozen giants, the tall hairy creatures pushing it effortlessly. Upon the platform rested a gold encrusted throne, upon which sat a single moredhel dressed in a short white robe. Behind him crouched a figure whose features were hidden by a bulky robe and deep hood. The platform came toward the wall at a leisurely pace.
Guy leaned forward, his arm resting upon the blue stones of the wall, while Arutha stood at his side, arms crossed. Amos shaded his eyes with his hands against the rising sun. The seaman spat over the wall. ‘I think we finally meet the grand high royal bastard himself.’
Guy only nodded. A company subcommander came up and said, ‘Protector, the enemy takes position opposite all sectors of the wall.’
‘Any attempt to reach the mountain redoubts?’ Guy indicated the section of cliff behind the citadel.
‘Armand reports only weak thrusts toward the outposts in the rocks. They seem unwilling to climb and fight.’
Guy nodded and returned his attention to the field. The platform halted and the figure on the throne stood. By some act of magic his voice filled the air, heard by everyone on the wall as if he were standing only a few feet away. ‘O my children,’ he said, ‘hear my words.’ Arutha looked at Amos and Guy in wonder, for this Murmandamus spoke music. The very sounds of his words were etched with the warmth of a lute’s melody. ‘We share the destiny of tomorrow. Stand in opposition to fate’s will and you risk utter destruction. Come, come. Let old differences be put aside.’
He signalled and a company of human riders came trotting up to stand behind him. ‘Here, can you see? With me already are those of your kindred who understand our destiny. I welcome all who will willingly serve. With me you shall find a place of greatness. Come, come, let us put aside the past. You are but my misguided children.’
Amos snorted. ‘My old pa was a scoundrel, but that’s an insult.’
‘Come, I welcome any who will join.’ His words were sweet, seductive and those on the walls exchanged glances, and unspoken questions.
Guy and Arutha looked about, and du Bas-Tyra said, ‘There’s art and power in his voice. Look, my own soldiers are thinking maybe they won’t have to fight.’
Amos said, ‘Ready catapults.’
Arutha stepped beside him. ‘Wait!’
‘For what?’ asked Guy. ‘So he can sap the resolve of my army?’
‘Stall for time. Time is our ally, and his enemy.’
Murmandamus shouted, ‘But those who oppose, those who will not stand aside and who block our march toward destiny, those shall be crushed utterly.’
Now, the tone of his voice carried a warning, a note of menace, and those upon the walls were visited by a feeling of utter futility. ‘I give you a choice!’ He stretched his arms away from his body, and his short white robe fell away, revealing a body of incredible power, with the purple dragon birthmark clearly seen. He wore only a white loincloth. ‘You may have peace and serve in the cause of destiny.’ Servants ran forward and quickly fitted his armour to his body: iron plates and greaves, chain and leather; a black helm, with the upswept wings of a dragon on either side. Then the human riders moved away, and behind, a full company of Black Slayers could be seen. They rode forward and assumed positions about Murmandamus. Murmandamus took up a sword and pointed it toward the wall. ‘But if you resist, you will be obliterated. Choose!’
Arutha whispered in Guy’s ear. At last the Protector shouted back, ‘I may not order any to quit the city. We must meet in volksraad. We will decide tonight.’
Murmandamus paused, as if the answer was unexpected. He began to speak but was interrupted by the serpent priest. With a curt gesture he silenced the priest. Turning back toward the wall, Arutha imagined he could see a smile below the eye guards of Murmandamus’s black helm. ‘I will wait. At first light tomorrow, open the gates of the city and come forth. You will be embraced as returning brethren, o my children.’ He signalled and the giants pulled back the platform. In a few moments he had vanished into the huge host.
Guy shook his head. ‘The volksraad will not do anything. I will knock down any fool who thinks there is a single shred of truth in that monster’s words.’
Amos said, ‘Still we gain another day.’
Arutha leaned back against the wall. ‘And Martin and the others are one day closer to Stone Mountain.’
Guy remained silent, watching as the morning sun rose, and as the besieging army stood down, returning to camp, but still isolating the city. For hours the Protector and his commanders just watched.
Torches burned brightly all along the wall. Soldiers kept vigil on all fronts, under the command of Armand de Sevigny. The bulk of the populace assembled in the great market.
Jimmy and Locklear moved through the crowd. They found Krinsta and Bronwynn and moved alongside the girls. Jimmy began to speak, but Krinsta motioned for silence as Guy, Arutha, and Amos stepped onto the platform. With them stood an old man, dressed in a brown robe that appeared as ancient as its wearer. He held an ornate staff, incised with scrollwork and runic symbols along its entire length, in the crook of his arm.
‘Who’s he?’ asked Locklear.
‘The Lawkeeper,’ whispered Bronwynn. ‘Hush.’
The old man raised his free hand and the crowd became silent. ‘The volksraad meets. Hear, then, the law. What is spoken is true. What is counselled is heeded. What is decided is the will of the folk.’
Guy raised his hands above his head. He spoke. ‘Into my care you have given this city. I am your Protector. I now counsel this: our foe awaits without and seeks to gain with fine-sounding words what he will not gain by strength of arms. Who will speak to his cause?’
A voice from the crowd said, ‘Long have the moredhel been the enemies of our blood. What service can we take in their cause?’
Another answered, ‘Still, may we not hear again this Murmandamus? He speaks fairly.’ All eyes turned toward the Lawkeeper.
The Lawkeeper closed his
eyes and was silent for a time. Then he spoke. ‘The Law says that the moredhel are beyond the conventions of men. They have no bond with the folk. But in the Fifteenth Year the Protector Bekinsmaan did meet with one called Turanalor, chieftain of the Clan Badger moredhel in the Vale of Isbandia, and a truce during Banapis was established. It lasted for three midsummers. When Turanalor vanished in the Edder Forest, during the Nineteenth Year, his brother, Ulmslascor, became chieftain of Clan Badger. He violated the truce, killing the entire population of Dibria’s Kraal.’ He seemed to evaluate the traditions as he knew them. ‘It is not unprecedented to listen to the words of the moredhel, but caution is urged, for they are treacherous.’
Guy motioned toward Arutha. ‘This man you have seen. He is Arutha, a prince of the Kingdom that once you counted enemy. He is now our friend. He is a distant kinsman of mine. He has had dealings with Murmandamus before. He is not of Armengar. Will he be given voice in the volksraad?’
The Lawkeeper raised his hand in question. A chorus of affirmation sounded, and the Lawkeeper indicated the Prince could speak. Arutha stepped forward. ‘I have battled against this fiend’s minions before.’ In simple words he spoke of the Nighthawks, the wounding of Anita, and the journey to Moraelin. He spoke of the moredhel chieftain, Murad, who was slain by Baru. He spoke of the terrors and evils seen, all fashioned by Murmandamus.
When he was done, Amos raised his hands and spoke. ‘I came to you sick and wounded. You cared for me, a stranger. Now I am one of you. I speak of this man Arutha. I lived with him, fought beside him, and learned to count him friend for four years. He is without guile. He has a generous heart and his words can be counted as bond. What he has said can only be the truth.’
Guy shouted, ‘What can our answer be?’
Swords were lifted and torches brandished as a chorus of shouts echoed across the great market. ‘No!’
Guy waited while the host of Armengar cried out their defiance to Murmandamus. He stood with hands fisted, black gauntlets held high above his head while the sound of Armengar’s thousands washed over him. His single eye seemed alight and his face was alive, as if the courage of the city’s populace was sweeping away his fatigue and sorrows. To Jimmy, he looked a man renewed.
The Lawkeeper waited until the din died, then said, ‘The volksraad has decreed the law. This is the law: no man will quit the city to serve this Murmandamus. Let no man violate the law.’
Guy said, ‘Return to your places. Tomorrow the battle begins in earnest.’
The crowd began to disperse and Jimmy said, ‘I didn’t doubt this would happen for a minute.’
Locklear said, ‘Still, that Dark Brother with the beauty mark has a way with words.’
Bronwynn said, ‘True, but we have fought the moredhel since the beginning of Armengar. There can be no peace between us.’ She looked at Locklear, a serious expression on her pretty face. ‘When are you to report?’
He said, ‘Jimmy and I have duty at first light.’
She and Krinsta exchanged glances and nods. Bronwynn took Locklear by the hand. ‘Come with me.’
‘Where?’
‘I have a house we may stay in tonight.’ Firmly she led him away from his friend, through the evaporating press of the volksraad.
Jimmy glanced at Krinsta. ‘He’s never –’
She said, ‘Neither has Bronwynn. She has decided if she is to die tomorrow, she will at least know one man.’
Jimmy thought a moment. ‘Well, at least she’s picked a gentle lad. They’ll be good to each other.’
Jimmy began to move and was halted by Krinsta’s restraining hand. He looked back to find her studying his face in the torchlight. ‘I also have not known the pleasures of the bedchamber,’ she said.
Jimmy suddenly felt the blood rise in his face. For all the time spent together, Jimmy had never been able to get Krinsta off alone. The four had spent hours together, with some mock passion in dark doorways, but the girls had always managed to keep the two squires under control. And always there had been a sense that it was all somehow play. Now, suddenly, Jimmy knew there was no more play. There was a serious note of approaching doom and a desire to live more intensely, even if only for one night. At last he said, ‘I have, but only twice.’
She took his hand. ‘I also have a house we may use.’ Silently she led Jimmy away. As he followed he was aware of a new feeling inside. He felt a sense of the inevitability of death, for it had been etched in bold relief against this desire to affirm life. And with it came fear. Jimmy squeezed Krinsta’s hand tightly as he walked with her.
Couriers raced along the wall, carrying messages. The Armengarian tactic was simple. They waited. As dawn broke, they had seen Murmandamus ride forth, his white horse prancing as it moved back and forth before his assembled host. It was clear he waited for an answer. The only answer he received was silence.
Arutha had convinced Guy to do nothing. Each hour gained before the attack was another hour relief might be coming. If Murmandamus expected the gates to open, or a defiant challenge, he was disappointed, for only the sight of silent lines of Armengarian defenders atop the wall greeted him. At last he rode forward, until he stood at midpoint between his army and the walls. Again by arcane arts his voice could be clearly heard.
‘O my reluctant children, why do you hesitate? Have you not taken counsel? Do you not see the folly in opposing? What, then, is your answer?’
Silence was his only reply. Guy had given orders that no one was to speak above a whisper, so that any who were tempted to shout taunts would be halted. There would be no excuse for Murmandamus to order an attack one moment before necessary. Again the horse pranced in a circle. ‘I must know!’ shrieked Murmandamus. ‘If an answer is not forthcoming by the time I return to the lines of my host, then shall death and fire be visited upon you.’
Guy slammed his gloved fist against the walls. ‘Damn me if I’ll wait five more minutes. Catapults!’
By signal he ordered them fired. A hail of stones the size of melons arced overhead and came crashing down about Murmandamus. The white stallion was struck and collapsed in a bloody shower. Murmandamus rolled free and was struck repeatedly by stones. A wild cheer went up from the walls.
Then it died as Murmandamus regained his feet. Unmarked, he strode toward the walls, until he was within bow range. ‘Spurn my largess and my bounty. Refuse my dominion. Then know destruction!’
Archers fired, but the arrows bounced away from the moredhel as if he were enveloped in some sort of protective shell. He pointed his sword and a strange, dull explosive sound came from it as blasts of scarlet fire shot forth. The first blast erupted along the edge of the walls, and three archers screamed in agony as their very bodies exploded in flames. Others ducked below the wall as blast after blast struck. With the entire force of defenders crouching, no further damage was sustained. With a bellow of rage, Murmandamus turned to face his army and shrieked, ‘Destroy them!’
Guy glanced over a crenel and saw the moredhel striding away while his army poured across the plain past him. Like a calm island in a sea of chaos he walked back toward the waiting platform and throne.
Then Guy ordered the war engines loosed, and a rain of destruction began. The assaulting forces faltered, but regained momentum as they approached the walls. The moat had been cluttered with debris and platforms from earlier assaults, and again more platforms were thrown across the water. More scaling ladders were lifted and again attackers swarmed upward.
Giants ran forward, pushing odd-looking boxes, some twenty feet on a side and ten feet high. These rolled on wheeled platforms, with long poles extending to the front and rear, bumping over the rough terrain and fallen bodies. When they were near the wall, some mechanism was triggered, for the poles moved under the boxes, lifting them upward to a level with the top of the wall. Suddenly the fronts of the boxes fell forward, forming a platform, and goblins came swarming out to stand upon the walls of Armengar, while rope ladders were lowered from the boxes so more invad
ers might climb up. At dozens of points along the wall, this tactic was repeated until hundreds of moredhel, goblins, and trolls fought in bloody hand-to-hand combat with the defenders of the city.
Arutha dodged a blow by a goblin and ran the green-skinned creature through, causing it to fall screaming to the stones of the bailey below. Armengarian children ran forward with drawn daggers and ensured the creature was dead. Everyone who could serve in the battle did so.
The Prince of Krondor ran past Amos, who struggled with a moredhel, each holding the other’s wrist. Arutha hit the moredhel in the head with his hilt and continued to move along the wall. The dark elf staggered and Amos grabbed it by the throat and crotch. He lifted and tossed the creature over the wall, knocking down several more attempting to climb a ladder. He and another defender then pushed the ladder away from the wall.
Jimmy and Locklear dashed along the wall, dealing blows where needed to win past attackers who sought to slow them. Reaching the point where Guy had his command, Jimmy said, ‘Sir, Armand says there is a second wave of those boxes coming forward.’
Guy turned to look at his defence. The walls were being swept clear of attackers and almost all the ladders had been overturned. ‘Poles and burning oil!’ he shouted and the command was passed along the wall.
When the second wave of boxes rose to the wall, long poles, pole arms, and spears were used to hold the falling front sections up, though several attempts to do so failed. But those that held were followed by leather bags of oil, which were tossed by strong-armed Armengarians upon the sides of the boxes. They were fired by burning arrows and quickly the boxes were ablaze. Screaming attackers jumped to their death below rather than burn inside the boxes.
Those few companies of moredhel who gained the walls were quickly disposed of, and within an hour of the first assault the retreat sounded from the field.
Arutha looked about and turned to Guy. The Protector was breathing heavily, more from tension than from the fighting. His command position had been heavily defended so he could issue orders along the walls. He looked back at the Prince. ‘We were lucky.’ Rubbing his face with his hands, he said, ‘Had that fool sent both waves at once, he could have cleared a section before we knew what to do. We’d be retreating through the streets.’
The Riftwar Saga Trilogy: Magician, Silverthorn and A Darkness at Sethanon Page 159