Besieged

by Verity Moore

  The second wave of enemy fighters forced the first ones up and over. Even then the sludge worked for them as it mired their feet. It made them easy targets. Cantor raised his newly acquired sword to skewer a man but then stopped and shook his head. “I can’t take a life that can’t defend itself. Forgive me, Watcher.”

  “Nay, it speaks of the honor of your soul. Well done, my boy.”

  A few of the mercenaries found their footing and turned with cruel faces to kill his people. But one went down from a knife wound to his thigh. Another retreated with fork tine holes in his face. A third crumpled with a knee broken from a well swung shovel. And Cantor sliced the side of his opponent once he had freed himself from the muck.

  Several of his people lay bleeding on the floor. One was still and white as death.

  Reg looked for Tellus. Surely he would come charging inside at any moment. A hulking brute blocked his view with sword swinging in a level arc—he meant to separate Reg’s head from his body.

  Not before he had a chance to address Tellus. Using footwork he’d learned as young cadet and forgotten until that moment, he side-stepped, pivoted and jabbed. The man went down.

  Through the opening Reg saw the new soldiers fight their way toward the tower, mercenaries falling in swaths like harvested wheat. Finally, Tellus became aware of the threat at his rear. He turned from the door, which still hung by the bottom hinge, to engage the fresh fighters.

  “Archers, take care how you aim. Make sure your arrows find our enemies—not those coming to our aid.”

  Was it moments or excruciating hours until Tellus and his men were chased from the tower? It seemed to be both. Finally, only the second group surrounded them. Were they friends? Or more enemies, who had used Tellus’ distraction to their own advantage? They didn’t appear to be Caparians—too light skinned.

  “Hail, the tower.” A rugged man stood head above the rest. Scruffy beard, torn tunic, dirty boots. His appearance didn’t nurture confidence.

  Nails clicking, paws thumping, Cierra’s dog raced for the door and began frantically digging at the muck. Whines and yelps kept time with the flying dirt.

  “What’s got into the beast?” Cantor tried to grab the dog’s pack, but jumped back when Castoff snapped at him.

  “Such enthusiasm is usually reserved for a dog’s master. But Cierra is inside.” Reg looked again at the man standing at the opening and smiled. “Help him dig. My son-in-law has come just when he is most needed.”

  “Huzzahs” rang out. People hugged and wept. A few danced a gig. Other set to work. Hands dug into the mud. Backs heaved rocks out of the way. Arms yanked the door aside.

  The man with massive shoulders stood in the doorway. “My wife, Cierra, is she here?”

  “She’s scribbling on a wall.” Lady Reg glided forward to hug the stranger. “What a wonderful, miraculous blessing to have you here.”

  Reg held out his hand. “You are most welcome in Lipfar, Kyam.”

  ✽✽✽

  Kyam hugged his mother-in-law. “The Masters are speaking? Where will I find this most favored wall?”

  Lady Reg pointed up the stairs.

  Castoff led the way. Kyam climbed the steps three at a time. He found her, bent at the waist, intent on some details. The drawing was immense, intricate, and familiar. And so very beautiful.

  His dog bounded to her. He danced in place, barking, and pawing her side.

  “Hush, Castoff, I need to finish this.”

  The dog yipped. His whole body quivered.

  “I am here, Mela Dolsi.”

  Cierra straightened, then stood perfectly still facing her sketch. “It can’t be. So many times my imagination has dreamt of his return—that somehow he survived that fall. But hope can be such a cheat…”

  He grinned. “Your poor imagination—always blamed for being too active when it is one of your greatest gifts. Look at Castoff. Why else would he be so delighted?” How like her to doubt good things. That must change.

  Lady Reg grabbed Cierra’s arm. “Your husband. Is he taller than a mountain? With a jaw like its crag?”

  “Yes.”

  “Has he a smile that shifts every fissure? And eyes as soft and warm as a fur blanket?”

  “Yes.” Her voice quivered.

  “Then hope has not betrayed you.” Lady Reg squeezed Cierra’s waist.

  He walked toward her. Her curls were more disorderly than usual. His fingers itched to bury themselves in her hair. Would she turn to look at him? Or had fear nailed her feet to the floor?

  Cierra whirled so quickly she nearly toppled over. But he was there to catch and hold her close. Just as he always hoped to be. He ran soothing hands over her back as she sobbed. His Mela Dolsi.

  “How is it possible?”

  He swayed and rocked her as he told his tale. “When I left you, I tried again to climb the rockslide. And fell.”

  She gasped.

  “It was Mischief.”

  “The vine?” She stroked the shiny leaves curled around his neck.

  “During our kiss, it moved from your waist to mine. I did not notice—your kisses are too potent to attend to anything but you. As I fell, Mischief snagged a thick root.”

  She stared at the vine lying quietly across his shoulders. “That tiny vine was strong enough to hold you?”

  The plant stirred and moved as if flexing muscles.

  Castoff, who insisted on leaning against Kyam’s leg, braced his front legs on his chest. The vine leaned down to tickle the dog’s nose. He sneezed and shook his head.

  “Then what?”

  “Well, I dangled from Mischief’s end for quite a while. It took longer than I care to admit to figure out how to extricate myself.”

  “And how did you do it?”

  “Since the vine had obeyed commands before, I decided to tell it to swing me to a nearby ledge.”

  “Like a pendulum.” She chuckled.

  “With great vigor and enthusiasm it complied, and overshot the mark. Had to try three times before we succeeded.”

  “And once on the ledge?”

  He shrugged. “I climbed back up. It took what was left of that day’s light to pull myself to the top. Two days to avoid the circle of soldiers surrounding the mountain. I spotted Captain Lick sailing toward the harbor and swam out to meet them.”

  Cierra caressed Mischief. “Thank you for my husband.”

  The plant trailed its frond along her cheek. Its yellow flowers began to glow. It rose, floating above their heads. Castoff leapt, trying to snatch it. Mischief looped itself in a circle, spun rapidly, and in a flash of light was gone.

  She said, “Your wild surmise was right, husband. The Masters sent a messenger in a most unusual form to help us.”

  He cradled her head. “We should not be surprised, for They do delight in new and unexpected ways.”

  “Such as strange pictures that must be drawn while the enemy breaks down the door?” Lady Reg quirked an eyebrow at him.

  He chuckled. “Remember, They had dispatched us to deal with the enemy.”

  Watcher Reg cleared his throat. “May I ask, what is the inspiration for this painting? It invites me to fly. A most unique viewpoint—eagle high and increasingly broad. Like a fan spread to its fullest. But growing blurred at its edges.”

  “I was almost dizzy while sketching it. But I had no sense of danger—from falling, I mean.” Cierra leaned into Kyam’s embrace. Even hours of holding her so would not be enough.

  Kyam studied the wall. “The scene is hopeful. I don’t recognize those flowers.” He pointed to a five-petal plant with serrated leaves that appeared to stand shoulder high next to the artist and close enough to touch. “Why do I expect it to have a wonderful fragrance?”

  Reg traced a finger over the flower and smudged his finger. “Forgive me, daughter.”

  Cierra shrugged. “It’s not difficult to fix. Something about that flower?”

  “When Kyam mentioned the aroma, I remembered something from m
y youth. The second time I heard The Masters for Lipfar, a most incredible scent came with it. My mentor said I’d been honored with an open window into Their empire.”

  Kyam nodded. “That would explain the sense of great height and distance.”

  Lady Reg tilted her head to look at the picture from a different perspective. “But what is the message? Are we to prepare ourselves to enter Their Empire? That our time in Capular is over?”

  Cierra nestled against Kyam’s chest.

  Kyam wrapped one of her curls around his finger. “Or it is inviting us to journey to The Outer Realm to find the answers hidden there.”

  “Empire or Realm—either way They are beckoning us closer.”

  “It seems The Masters have shown us which mountain to climb next.”

  She groaned. “You and mountains. I had best invest in sturdy boots.”

  He kissed her. “Wise female.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Intrepid male.”

  ✽✽✽

  Cierra floated upward through layers of contentment. “Mmm.” Warm, safe…and so much more…feminine, deliciously cherished, Mela Dolsi. One glorious stretch called for another. And another. Almost awake. Not yet.

  Next to her ear, a bark disrupted her slow surfacing. She groaned, “Not now, Castoff.” Two more barks with an edge of impatience yanked her awake.

  “Good morning.” Kyam’s rumble vibrated under her cheek as well as in her ears.

  She tilted her head up and back to smile in her husband’s face. His stubble roughened jaw required exploration—her finger tips traced the golden prickles. “Morning…it is still morning?”

  Two large paws and a moist snout joined them. Yips and warbles followed.

  “If it is still morning, he is saying the sun is well on its way toward noon. Kyam captured her fingers and kissed them. “Unfortunately my stomach concurs.”

  “Then we’d best see what magic Paro has conjured in the kitchen.”

  “Come in, come in.” Father spread his hands wide to encompass the foods set on a low table between deep cushioned couches.

  His eyes never left Cierra’s face. She could feel it begin to heat.

  Father’s welcoming smile grew into a grin—one that widened until it lifted his ears. It signaled extreme satisfaction, she was sure, much as a shopper who has acquired an outstanding purchase at a bargain price. “Worth the pain of Listor to see you so this after…ahem…morning.”

  Now her cheeks were on fire. Kyam’s palm resting against her back urged toward the table, while Castoff whined at her other side. What was she thinking to let mere embarrassment delay their meal?

  “Eat well. There is much to do this day.” Father selected a piece of meat and dropped his hand to a level convenient for Castoff’s mouth.

  Kyam chuckled. “Our dog’s list of tasks must be truly prodigious measured by the quality of his meal.”

  Castoff lowered his ears.

  Father stroked the dog’s head. “A reward for valor and initiative in yesterday’s battle.”

  The dog raised his nose and sniffed. Loudly.

  Cierra chortled, “That has put you well and truly in your place.”

  “Indeed, I shall retire to the corner and eat cold porridge.”

  “Nonsense. Fill your plate. Try Paro’s delicious sombas. Today they’re incredible. Must be the added spice of victory.”

  Cierra placed fruit and nuts on her plate and nibbled. “All is well?”

  Father smiled. “I’ve set trusted aids to finding the portal door as well as our code book and key.”

  “And guards on the walls? I fear Merlick will not give up easily.”

  Two jarring sets of bells rang out.

  Father jumped up. “The gates are under attack and so is the citadel.”

  All four ran from the room to find the streets in chaos. Fire rained from the sky setting roofs on fire. A wall guard shouted, “The gates! They’re trying to burn down our gates.”

  ✽✽✽

  Several hours later a circle of grim, soot-covered faces sat at the citadel’s counsel table.

  “Using fulcarries to drop fire from above was certainly effective. The damage was both physical and emotional.” Reg searched the eyes of those gathered. His people, unused to opposition, would soon weary of such attacks and sue for peace. He could not let that happen.

  “Remember Cierra’s picture of the petals dropped from The Masters’ Empire.” Kyam squeezed his wife’s hand. “Our hope lies in uniting the Watchers and employing the strategies each have been given. The Masters have made it clear: we win together or we fail alone.”

  “And to do that we must free the portal.” Cantor stood. “We have recently had practice at digging under the ground. I will gather the best of my fellow moles and begin at once.”

  “Don’t forget The Masters’ latest instructions.” Lady Reg’s hand trembled as she rubbed her forehead. “Something needs to be retrieved from the Outer Realm.”

  Cierra jerked upright. “Yes. The answer to freeing myself from Inge’s talons lies there.”

  “We all carry plumes that make us vulnerable to Merlick’s ‘eye.’” Kyam added. “The solution to that can only be found there.”

  “Then it is decided.” Reg stood. “As soon as the portal is open, a contingent will proceed with all haste to the Outer Realm to secure the gifts we need. In the mean time I will begin organizing the Watchers. May The Masters grant us protection and good speed.”

  The quest is just beginning: Can Capular win against Merlick?

  The answer is found in Through Ancient Portals’ sequel series: From Distant Promontories.

  There are so many things yet to be discovered:

  Can Lipfar’s portal be freed?

  Can Watcher Reg unite the rest of the watchers?

  Does The Masters’ river lead to the Outer Realm?

  What other hideous creatures will Merlick enlist?

  Can Cierra discover the key to destroying Inge?

  Why is every loyalist expected to make one pilgrimage to the Outer Realm?

  Did the werfs arrive safely in the Outer Realm?

  Is Thorston the Faithful able to evade Merlick’s mercenaries?

  Are the Watcher and Lady of Catliff safe?

  Did Lusan reach Bennong and find Watcher Kev alive?

  What is the strategy given to the watchers by The Masters?

  How can a few untrained loyalists defeat Merlick’s massive army?

  Will Castoff speak again?

  With so many questions to answer it will take three—or four?—more books to reveal the rest of the story.

  If you want to be the first to know when the next books are available, sign up for my newsletter at www.veritymoore.com.

  Thanks for reading Besieged. I hope your quests cause you to grow in grace.

  ~ Verity

  Discussion Questions

  How do you picture the fulcarries? Their size and shape? Their voice?

  In what ways were the “detours” Cierra encountered beneficial to both her and Capular?

  The Masters value community in many ways—what ones come to mind?

  The odds against the loyalists seem insurmountable—what are the biggest?

  Why does Kyam value “mountains” so highly?

  Do you think people who value joy over duty are quicker to “recover” from false ideas? (Think Rissler verses Lipfar and the time it takes for them to respond to the bells.)

  Cierra spent a lot of time underground—even though she hated it—while crossing Capular. How does that correspond with her internal journey?

  Why would The Masters give Cierra pictures of beauty and hope in the midst of perilous times rather than show her a way of escape?

  Would you enjoy spending time with Thorsen the simple? Why? or Why not?

  The three trees—Sipsong, Lyndorf, and Resre—are all allegories. What do they represent?

  Do you think Merlick is over reacting to the threat that Cierra poses to his p
lans?

  What questions do you want answered in the Volume 2: From Distant Promontories?

  About The Author

  Who is Verity Moore?

  Here are a few clues:

  The idea of change and new experiences excites her until she realizes just how enormous the task will be. Then she looks for the nearest escape hatch. But by then it’s usually too late to bail out.

  There are few things she dislikes more than the logistics of packing and moving from one location to another: at last count she has moved 27 times.

  She’s a taxi driver for the Amish, using the time while she waits on her passengers to write her rough drafts. She still prefers to do that first draft with pen and paper.

  She’s delighted to share the Caparian world with you and hopes you discover quests in the most unlikely places. Learn more, find giveaways, and connect at veritymoore.com.

  Through Ancient Portals

  Summoned: Through Ancient Portals, Book 1

  The summons changes everything.

  Cierra, master bell ringer and artist, is summoned home by her dying father. Determined to finally win his approval, she sets out on an impossible quest: to cross the vast, desolate land of Capular. How can she succeed on her own?