Reciprocity : Volume 1 of The Fledgegate Cycle

by Zachary Smith

  Hazk pushed in harder. Using every bit of his skill, he was winning but only barely. He kept attacking without letting up, sure that eventually, the older opponent would make a mistake and that would be the end. He pushed Glem back, trying to gain room to bring his magic to bear. But his opponent was smart; he would not let Hazk out of reach. If he did, he would die.

  Hazk’s magic rolled down his arms, covering his blade in fire that was trying to break his opponent’s own blade. It didn’t break, and didn’t give even a little bit. It did create an opening though. For the second time, Hazk was able to kick Glem in the chest. And this time, Hazk didn’t wait for Glem to stop sliding before he began using his magic to attack. Blast after blast of fire pounded into Glem, driving him further back along the wall.

  Hazk paused for a moment to gather his magic for a last time. The old man would not survive plasma, and Hazk didn’t think he could react fast enough to block it. His hand came up, swelling with power, and the energy causing a haze for several feet in each direction as it condensed.

  Intent on Glem’s destruction, the boulder that swept Hazk from the wall stayed unseen.

  Glem struggled up from the ground, now wondering why he was still alive. He looked around for his opponent, fully expecting to die at Hazk’s hand or sword—but finding instead that he was not there anymore. Looking down, he saw Kiiryas running across the cobblestones, jumping over the bodies of the dead as if he was a competitor in some peculiar hurdle race.

  Kiiryas rushed across to the stairs and up toward Glem.

  “I was fighting a man. He knocked me down,” Glem said with some urgency, and he shrugged as Kiiryas came up the stairs toward him. “I have to find him. I have to stop him.”

  Kiiryas pointed to a burning house that had collapsed inward on itself. “He’s there. I think he’s dead. A big, damned boulder took him right off the wall and into the house. Then it exploded.”

  Glem took a deep breath and slowly let it out.

  He laughed for a moment. “Ouch, that hurts.”

  “What hurts?”

  “Everything boy. Everything.”

  Taking Kiiryas’ proffered hand, Glem stood slowly.

  “Sometimes, luck is better than skill. Anyway, what’s done is done, so let’s get ourselves down off this wall; we need to make sure the girls got out ok.”

  “They are still here in the city. That’s one of the reasons I was coming to find you. There was a contingent of archers outside the North Gate and when the people were most of the way across, they started shooting. We lost a lot of them, and many more were wounded. I got a glimpse of your girls inside the gate after it shut but I lost them in the crowd.”

  ✽✽✽

  The change of the guard at the East Gate began smoothly. The city guards were used to the process involved because they did it twice a day normally, so it happened for them just as easily as getting dressed or making a morning cup of tea.

  As the guards coming in started to take over the positions, however, there was some confusion about which of the incoming guards were supposed to be on top of the wall. It seemed to be a favored post, and the men would argue over whose turn it was to take the safer high vantage point.

  “Hey now. What’s all the noise out here?” the sergeant on duty asked as he came out of the gatehouse.

  “Sir. These men are arguing about which of them is supposed to be on the wall,” one of the guards answered, pointing at the men in question. “Please, put a stop to it. I believed I was working with soldiers, not children.”

  “Well, which of you were on the wall yesterday?

  The two men looked at one another without an answer. They turned to the guard sergeant and shrugged. Now, they at least seemed in agreement about something, anyway.

  They both quickly drew their swords and killed the sergeant. The other guards also drew theirs immediately, also realizing that these were enemy soldiers coming in and trying to kill them.

  Three of the incoming soldiers quickly raised the gate while the rest of the soldiers tried to eliminate all the guards.

  By now, everything near the gate was chaos.

  A dozen small fights around the periphery of the gate happened to erupt into life simultaneously. The city guards were winning more than they lost though, and slowly, they were able to overcome the enemy soldiers.

  “What do we do?” one of the guards shouted.

  “The Sergeant is dead. We got to close the gates,” another yelled back.

  “Someone come help me,” one of the guards working the massive winches yelled. “We have to hurry. The army is moving up the road. Look! You can see them in the distance—a few more minutes and we’re done for!” The soldiers had been successful, and the locking pins had been set and bent. It would now take a blacksmith and an engineer to close the gate again.

  “Quick, form up. You run for help,” called the one from the winch as he pointed at another one of the guards.

  The seventeen men remaining at the gate after the fight with the soldiers—many of them now badly injured—made four lines across the gate. The first line was just outside the city, the rest set out directly behind them. They understood that they would not be able to hold for very long but they could buy some time for reinforcements.

  The young guard sent off for help was running as fast as he could, eventually coming across a group of guards at one of the staging points near the market, waiting for deployment orders.

  “They broke the gate,” he shouted as he came to a halt, breathing heavily and leaning forward, supporting himself with his hands on his knees to try and catch his breath again.

  “The guards, well, they weren’t guards. We didn’t know. They… raised... the… gate,” he panted.

  A sergeant in the group stepped over.

  “Slow down man. Take a breath. Tell us what happened. There’s no point trying to do it in fits and starts—it’s just guesswork for us. Breathe deep, get yourself together, and start again. Now, tell us properly.”

  The man followed the instructions and quickly, his breathing returned to a semblance of normality and he could speak.

  “There were soldiers, sir, dressed like guards. We didn’t know that, of course, and we thought they were for real. They killed the sergeant, and then we managed to kill them all but not before they’d gone ahead and jammed the gate up. The Southern Army has started to move. They are coming up the east road.

  “Right now, sir. They’re coming now.”

  He pointed away in the distance to where the enemy could be seen approaching on foot, like a small black line of ants.

  “Form up,” the sergeant shouted.

  The guardsmen rapidly fell into formation and began to run in an orderly fashion toward the East Gate. Then, the reinforcements reached the gate just in time to see the last two guards fall to an overwhelming force of southern soldiers.

  “We have to push them back out of the city,” the sergeant shouted. He looked at the long chain of soldiers who were already flooding in though, and realized it was likely hopeless. They had to try, but no one held out much hope of success.

  “Like we practiced, men. Forward march.”

  The guard moved steadily toward the soldiers forming up in the street. There were none breaking off; they were in a neat formation, every inch professional soldiers.

  The city guards fought bravely as they tried to push the Southern Army back out of the gate. It was like trying to keep floodwaters from breaking through a sieve.

  Their initial attack was fierce enough that for a few minutes, it looked as if they might even succeed. The Southern Army’s soldiers fell back against the brutal onslaught of the guards.

  These were bloodied professional soldiers though; it did not take them long to first regain and then hold their position, and to begin pushing the guards in front of them back into the city.

  If it had not been for the terrible nature of what they were doing, their demonstration of prowess would have been impressive.
r />   Chapter 21

  “It looks like we may all be in the city longer than we expected.” Rues explained to the blacksmith. “We were in the group trying to leave through the North Gate, and we were partway across the big clearing outside of town when archers started shooting hundreds of arrows at us. Everyone turned and ran for the gates. A lot of us made it inside. Some of us didn’t.”

  Rues stared at the ground for a moment before she continued.

  “We got separated from the rest of our group when we eventually got back into the gates, and while everyone else was trying to figure out what had happened, boulders started falling inside the wall. Everything only got worse after that. We got into the allies off the entry road and came here.”

  “You made a good choice in doing that,” the smith replied. “Take a few minutes and catch your breath, and then you can figure out what you need to do next.”

  Alyra looked up. “We have to get back to the inn. That is where Oarf and Eiriean will go.”

  The blacksmith looked around when they suddenly heard the sounds of fighting outside in the streets over the noise of the forge that had now begun operating again.

  He strode to the main door and looked down the street a couple blocks, toward the west road. There were men fighting there, but it was hard to tell if it was guards or soldiers, or even the men of the city at that distance. But it didn’t matter. He dragged the heavy door shut and slipped the catch to lock it.

  “Close the other door and damp the forges,” he said to his apprentice. “Maybe they will think the building is empty and pass by.”

  Alyra cocked her head back and forth several times, trying to hear over the hissing of the forges being put out. “I think they are going door to door. It sounds like they are kicking in some of them. Do you think the bolts will hold?”

  The blacksmith looked at the two girls. “Depends on the soldiers and the tools they have. For most, I would say that they will hold pretty well. For soldiers though, even a small ram would go through the door. On the outside, when the main door is closed, it matches the rest of the wall. The smaller door in the back is the one that we come through in the morning. That is the obvious one.”

  “They’re coming from the side of the main door,” Alyra said.

  “Then you get yourself over by the back door. If they come in, I will slow them down. You run. You too, lad,” the blacksmith said to his apprentice.

  “No, if they come in, I’ll fight,” the young man said as he took two long bars of steel from the fire's remains.

  The blacksmith looked at him for a moment and then nodded.

  They could hear the men outside talking now, a whisper away. “I think I saw a door here somewhere from when we were down the way. I know I saw smoke from the stacks too. Look around, men. It has to be here somewhere. Look closely…”

  “Line up, we’ll use the small ram. It will just make its own door.”

  “Ready? On three. Heave one. Heave two. Heave three.”

  The sound of the ram slamming into the wall echoed through the shop, but the well-built wall didn’t give.

  The soldiers outside were lined up with one of the huge uprights along the face of the building.

  “Heave one. Heave two. Heave three.”

  The second strike to the upright was accompanied by a loud crack that echoed inside the smithy.

  “There it goes. Once more. Heave one. Heave two. Heave three!”

  The great post broke a couple feet above the ground, the bottom of it going in toward the forges, but the top of it falling sideways into the locked door.

  The weight of the post collapsed the door, buckling it in the middle and opening a gaping wound into the dark interior of the smithy. The soldiers working quickly grabbed the pieces of the door and pulled it away, opening up the interior.

  The girls ran for the back door of the smithy as the first soldiers strode boldly in through the destroyed main door.

  “Run. Run now!” the blacksmith shouted over his shoulder.

  The soldiers entered the smithy as a group, swords drawn, their heavy boots clattering on the harsh tiled floor. The blacksmith and his apprentice swung their steel from the fire, trying to maintain as much distance from the soldiers as they could. The apprentice even took a shovel and flung the hot coals from deep in the scalding forges at the soldiers.

  The coal—exposed to massive amounts of oxygen so suddenly—flared up like meteors as the great chunks of black and glowing red flew at the soldiers. Several of the men had their clothing catch fire momentarily, slowing their advance. It was enough. The girls slipped quietly out the back of the smithy, and they could hear the two men die as they started to run.

  They ran sideways down the alley, hearts beating too fast, small whimpers escaping from their mouths. Desperately, they were looking for a way out. Any way at all. They ran and ran.

  “We have to get back to the inn. They won’t know to look for us here,” Rues panted. They ran alleyway to street to alleyway, trying to take the shortest route back to the inn.

  Several times, they had to turn back because an alleyway dead ended, slowing them down. They were turning around again when their luck ran out, and soldiers crossed the entrance to the alley in which they stood. They pressed themselves to the walls now, hoping against hope that they would not be noticed but the movement was enough to attract attention.

  One of the soldiers looked down the alley.

  “Hold up. There's someone down this way. It looks like there are just two of them.” He gestured with his head toward some of the soldiers standing nearby.

  “You four, come with me. The rest of you can continue the patrol. Remember the General's orders. You don’t have to kill them, but everyone has to submit. No exceptions.”

  “Yes, sir,” the soldiers responded.

  “Let’s go talk to them. You lot, keep going.”

  The five soldiers turned into the alley and started walking slowly toward Rues and Alyra.

  “Looks like that one has a sword,” one of the men said as Alyra drew when they were about halfway.

  “You’d think a breath of air could blow her over, but see how she wields that thing.”

  “Yes, looks can be deceptive,” said another man.

  Alyra looked at Rues for a moment. “He said they don’t have to kill if we submit. There are too many of them for us to fight.”

  Rues looked at Alyra and drew her hammer. “If we weren’t going to fight, then you shouldn’t have drawn your sword,” Rues said, looking pointedly at the blade.

  Alyra stared for a moment at her hands, as if just realizing that she held her sword, as Rues had said.

  “What do we do?” she whispered.

  Rues turned back to the approaching men. “See if they’ll talk. If not, we fight,” she said over her shoulder to Alyra as she stepped in front of her. “At least them, we tried what we could.”

  The men inched closer, one putting his palms out flat as if to say, look, we are not killers. They drew no weapons.

  “We don’t want to have to hurt you. Just put the weapons down and submit, and we can all be on our way,” the lead soldier said loudly.

  “Where are you from?” asked Rues loudly, as if it was somehow her business. She sounded older than her years.

  “Godegiselern.”

  “You are a long way from home and in the wrong kingdom,” Rues replied, still assertive and almost sounding like Glem.

  “This city is part of the Kingdom of Hasdingium now. As is all the land south of here. Submit to the King and you won’t be harmed. If you know what is good for you—”

  “But you know we cannot submit to you. Our village was south of here until two weeks ago. We are the only ones left. Your men killed my family!” Rues was screaming by the time she finished speaking, and she was near hysterical. Although quite fearsome and adept with her hammer, she still had the mind of a teenager. So, not knowing what else to do, she raised her hammer and threw herself down the alley at th
e men.

  Alyra followed her friend, yelling her own war cry as she held her sword up. The soldiers looked at the girls charging them and laughed as they drew their own weapons.

  This was an amusing sight to them, especially after making what they had considered a gentile and gracious approach.

  “It is not quite what I had expected,” said one.

  “Nor me,” commented the other.

  The one in charge stepped forward to meet Rues’ charge, raising his sword to block her hammer. She swung down on him, hitting his blade and shattering it like glass. The force behind her strike was more that of a full-grown man; it was clear she was stronger than she appeared, and very capable in a fight.

  The soldier was startled for a moment as his blade exploded from the force. As Rues recovered from the swing, he stepped forward into her reach and drove the pommel of the broken sword into her skull, knocking her instantly unconscious.

  She crumpled to the ground at his feet.

  One of the other soldiers then stepped forward and kicked Rues as she lay on the ground. They started beating Rues’ unconscious form in anger at her having the gall to attack them. Their boots drove into her side, her back, her legs and eventually, her head, not caring anymore that she was just a girl.

  Blood was streaming from her nose and ears as they beat her savagely. Alyra, only a few steps behind her, seemed miles away. She neared the soldiers like a banshee, screaming and hacking at them. There was no finesse or skill, just anger and unbridled rage in her attacks. But the soldiers turned them easily, laughing at her infantile attempts to hurt them.

  “You killed her! You killed her!” she screamed over and over at the soldiers as she hacked at them.

  One of the soldiers stepped around behind her while her attention was still riveted on the others. He kicked her feet out from her as she drew back for another swing, then he grabbed both of her hands that were holding her sword in one of his, and deftly took the blade away from her.

  She twisted as she fell, still trying to bite him. He dropped her and as she landed on her knees, he kicked her in the ribs for good measure. “It will teach you not to think of fighting me.”