A Kingdom Under Siege

by Jeffrey L. Kohanek

  Turning, Sculdin strolled toward the quarterdeck. Soldiers on deck moved aside for him. He patted a few on the shoulder as he passed by, offering words of courage. Armed with flashbombs, muskets, and swords, they carried weaponry that required little additional confidence, but it never hurt for soldiers to feel supported by their senior officer.

  As he reached the steps to the quarterdeck, Sculdin heard a crack from a nearby longship, followed by shouts and screams. He ran up and stood beside the helm, peering out to see a longship on fire, the raging flames taking the thing as if it were doused in naphtha.

  Another crack sounded, and another longship went up in flames. By the time the third Ri Starian vessel ignited, he spotted the source.

  “There,” he pointed into the dark, off the port side and toward a faint light coming off shimmering sails, like a ghost in the night. “Sink that ship. Now!”

  Haiga called out, and a flashcannon was turned to the port rail. A call was issued, the cannon blasting a flash of green flame. The cannonball struck, rocking the enemy ship as a massive hole opened at the midpoint of the main deck.

  He ran to the nearest rail and shouted. “Bombers! Strike that ship as soon as we draw close enough!”

  Infiltrators ran through the crowd on deck with slings ready. The first began swinging his sling, the whirling sound of it cutting through the air rising above the din. A crash came from the night as the kingdom craft collided with a longship, the prow driving through the hull near the stern.

  The bomber released his sling, the bomb arcing through the air to strike the opposing ship mid-deck. A bloom of green lit the night, the fire turning orange, and Sculdin caught a good view of the damage.

  Three Ri Starrian longships were burning, listing and sinking. They would not make it to shore. The kingdom ship was in the same condition if not worse, its prow firmly locked into the side of a longship that was taking on water. Another explosion blasted the kingdom ship, this one turning the quarterdeck into a ball of flames.

  He turned away and stomped over to Hiaga.

  “My men are dying!” he growled.

  “As are my sailors!” Hiaga yelled.

  “Get us to shore before anything else happens. As it stands, I will have little more than three hundred soldiers…unless your sailors will join us.”

  “Join you? This has been a disaster!” Hiaga got in his face, snarling. “You said this mission would cost me three vessels, but I’ve already lost seven!” She turned back to the wheel. “We are sailors, not fighters. I’ll get you to shore, but we are not storming this blasted city. You do what you must, but I plan to take my last three ships and retreat as soon as I am rid of you.”

  Percy strolled along the rear ranks, the area illuminated by glowing stumps. It’s convenient to have this light, he thought, knowing it had been the enemy’s way to limit surprises. He had read the plans himself, even before sharing them with Kardan and Sculdin. Yet, seeing it all unfold just as planned gave him a chill. It cannot be this easy, he thought. We are missing something.

  Ranks of soldiers stood between him and the catapults, positioned a thousand feet from the city wall. Brillens’ thousand musketeers stood in front while Mollis and his infantry waited behind them. At the rear was Mollis and his own, much smaller, regiment of musketeers. Everything appeared as it should, the plan progressing as intended.

  A thud came from a catapult as another flashbomb was launched toward Wayport. By the time it landed, the launch arm was already being cranked back for another round. The war machines were pushed forward a few strides between each round as they slowly ate away at the city. Each time the war machines moved forward, Brillens’ musketeers would follow, creating a gap between them and the rest of the army.

  As Percy reached the men on horseback, he shouted. “Commander!” Both Mollis and Brillens turned toward him, the latter frowning at the back of the former’s head. Percy knew what Brillens thought of his fellow commander. I agree, Brillens. Mollis is a pig-headed idiot. “When are you going to send the army in?”

  “According to the plan,” Mollis said in a haughty tone, “King Brock will eventually decide he has no choice but to attack. When he does, Brillens’ musketeers will take their turn.” Mollis grinned at Brillens. “Not even magic can prevent dying from a musket shot. I’d like to see Brock try healing someone with a lump of lead in them.”

  “My musketeers are ready, Mollis.” Brillens gestured toward the front line. “The moment the kingdom forces emerge, they will do their job. It’s up to your squads to clean up the mess afterward.”

  Mollis chortled. “A job my soldiers are well suited to perform.”

  Percy turned from them and climbed atop a particularly tall stump. Shielding his eyes from the fires burning in Wayport, he gazed over the field.

  The river to one side of the city prevented anyone from sweeping the Imperial army’s eastern flank unless they came across the bridge. Even then, Brock’s army was in Wayport and would need to cross the river, travel through the bogs south of the bridge, and then attack through that narrow funnel. The move would be suicide with the army positioned as it was.

  His gaze shifted to look west of the city where the palisade of stripped tree trunks had divided the field. Sections of the wall were missing, creating gaps with fires still burning on the neighboring logs. That is where we must focus, Percy thought. With the fires burning as they are, it is Brock’s only choice.

  A flicker of movement appeared beyond a gap in the palisades, followed by another.

  “They come!” Percy warned. “The enemy is attacking from the western flank!”

  “Finally!” Mollis laughed and then shouted. “Cease the catapults! Take aim for the palisade!”

  Brillens rode forward down the road, through the gap in the ranks and roared, “Musketeers, prepare to attack!”

  36

  Fight Like a Warden

  Brock stood outside the wall and considered his plan. He and eighty-seven others had received a Power augmentation. While it was a small portion of his army, each augmented soldier was worth dozens of standard warriors.

  Those soldiers leaped over the west wall, returning to the city side. Moments later, they jumped back carrying another soldier. Without a gate to that side of the city, over the wall was the only way out. Soon, seven hundred warriors stood outside the city wall, waiting alongside his Power augmented super-soldiers.

  Four sizeable gaps now existed in the half-mile-long palisade connecting the city wall to the forest edge. Fires burned on the flashbomb-blasted logs adjacent to the gaps.

  Brock used Power to augment his voice. “It is time to make our stand!” His voice was loud and clear, over the thumping explosions from the northeast. “The augmented soldiers are to lead the way and break the enemy front. The others will clean up. Take out the war machines first and keep moving to make yourself a difficult target. This is a fight to the death, so take no quarter!” He raised his arm high. “Attack!”

  He spun about, ran toward the palisade wall, and leaped over it.

  A flashbomb exploded below him, the force of the blast knocking him off balance and sending him falling face-first toward the ground, fifty feet below.

  Broland stood in the center square along with two hundred soldiers. Those men and women stared at him, waiting for his command. Somewhere to the west, his father was forming a counterattack while he stood here doing nothing. Explosions continued in the north quarter of the city as fires raged. The blasts were slowly growing closer.

  He turned toward the citadel where the citizens huddled in fear – thousands of people who wondered if they would survive the night. I cannot allow the enemy to reach the citadel, Broland thought. Those people…we promised them protection. The hundred guards within the citadel walls were the last line of defense, something he hoped would not be needed.

  Another explosion rocked the night, and Broland frowned, turning to look south. “Did that come from the harbor?”

  The next blas
t left little doubt as a tower of flames and dust filled the sky over the gate. Broland climbed on top of the fountain edge and turned toward the troops assigned to him.

  “Listen! My father is dealing with our threat to the north, but the south gate is locked and unguarded. They seek to surprise us by capturing the city while we fight to the north!” A thousand eyes were staring at him, relying on him for direction. “We cannot allow Imperial forces into the citadel. Here is what we must do!”

  Brock got his hands beneath him and pushed himself to his knees. His body hurt, but was whole. The Power augmentation had saved him from a fall that would otherwise shatter bones.

  His Chaos-charged squad ran past him as a staccato of bangs came from the Imperial Army. Many of the men and women lurched, staggered, and fell. One landed beside him with a hole in his forehead, eyes staring vacantly into nothing.

  “We must be more evasive!” He climbed to his feet and released a Power-augmented shout. “Jump! Don’t let them take aim at you!”

  With a massive leap, he flew toward the nearest catapult. Two more leaps carried him over the enemy’s front line – soldiers armed with long weapons made of wood and metal. Those must be muskets, he thought. Many tried to shoot at him but missed.

  Brock landed beside a catapult, dropped his staff, and grabbed ahold of the frame. Lifting it with a furious jerk, he spun about. The catapult – a thousand pounds of wood and metal – swung in a circle and smashed through every Imperial soldier within a twelve-foot radius of where he stood. One rotation later, he released his grip and sent the machine sailing through the air to land thirty feet away, crushing dozens of enemy soldiers before crashing into another catapult. A flashbomb fell from the second catapult’s launch basket and ignited. An explosion erupted, the blast killing a score of the enemy.

  Around Brock, Chaos-charged soldiers tore into the invaders, cutting through them as if they were straw before a scythe. More explosions followed as the battlefield became a killing ground.

  Everson stared out the window as Colossus raced down the hill, toward the distant fires lighting the night.

  They had camped just five miles north of Wayport. The first explosion had woken Curan, the second bringing Cassie awake as well. By the time Everson and Ivy had stirred, Curan was preparing Gorgant to ride. There was little doubt as to what was occurring, and they had no time to waste.

  Rounding a bend, Everson turned a tad too late and Colossus ran over the shrubs beside the road before careening off a tree. The machine returned to the road, leveled, and came upon another bend, this one more gradual and easier to navigate – even at a high speed.

  Ahead, the fires became visible through the trees. A hand clamped on Everson’s shoulder and he jumped, pulling the drive levers backward, Colossus slowing as he looked backward.

  “Stop the machine, Ev,” Cassie said.

  He disengaged the drive levers and pulled the break, bringing them to a stop.

  “What’s this about?” He turned back to find Cassie at the door with their only Chaos trap in her hand.

  “I’m getting out.”

  “You needn’t worry,” Ivy said. “Remember the augmentations we did to this thing? It should be fairly safe.”

  Cassie arched a brow. “Should be?” Ivy glanced at Everson, but before he could reply, Cassie said, “Never mind. That’s not why I’m getting out.” She opened the door as Curan and Gorgant settled on the road beside them. “I’m joining Curan. It is time to use my magic for something that matters.”

  “What?” Ivy said with alarm.

  “What about us, and why did you take the Chaos trap?” Everson asked.

  Cassie turned toward him. “Do what you came to do. This is the chance for all of us to make a difference. The trap is for me. I’ll need it after I use my magic on Curan.”

  With that, she closed the door. The thump of explosions arose from ahead, the flames flickering in gaps through the trees.

  “She’s right.” Ivy said as she settled in beside him. “We only need two of us to make this thing lethal.”

  He nodded, taking a breath to firm his resolve. “Right. It is time to behave like a warden.”

  When the drive levers moved forward, the Chaos-Conduction engine whirred and the machine lurched into motion. The machine rounded a bend and slowed as the battle came into view.

  A wall of wagons and steam carriages blocked the road, the vehicles stacked three rows deep. Well beyond the blockade, thousands of Imperial soldiers stood on an open field staring toward a burning city. Catapults at the front of the army were aimed at the city, firing bombs and bringing destruction to the innocents who lived within. The sight stirred anger within Everson as he found himself facing another bully, intent on their own agenda regardless of how it impacted others.

  “Hold tight!”

  He slammed both drive levers forward, the acceleration pinning him to the rear wall of the cockpit. When Colossus crashed into the narrow gap between the first two wagons, he stumbled forward, watching as the plow blades lifted the wagons, tipped them up, and pushed them aside before colliding into the second row. Again, Colossus shoved the obstacles aside and then crashed directly into a steam carriage. Colossus slowed, but the wheels continued to spin, pushing the metal carriage forward until it turned and tipped over.

  Suddenly, they were in the open.

  “Ready the weapon!” Everson pulled back on the drive levers, slowing Colossus to a stop while he located his first target.

  Ivy stood and opened a drawer where the bronze-encased flashbombs were stored. Everson moved Colossus forward, turning it slightly until the crosshairs he had etched into the windshield aligned with his target.

  “Ready,” Ivy said.

  “Fire!”

  The moment the catapult fired, he pushed one lever forward, pulling it to neutral when properly aligned. The first bomb struck, demolishing the enemy catapult.

  “Fire!”

  Another launch resulted in another catapult destroyed. The duo repeated the process, again and again, destroying the Imperial war machines and anything near them.

  Cassie watched Everson drive away and turned toward Curan with a chunk of glowstone in one hand, the Chaos trap in another. The trap was bulky, larger and more powerful than the ones Everson had made for Quinn.

  “Show me your rune.”

  Curan tossed his cloak aside and pulled up a sleeve to expose his arm. He frowned at her while she drew a rune on her own hand. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m making a difference.”

  She lifted the glowstone, giving enough light for her to see his rune. With a belly full of determination and backed by fear, she grappled with Chaos and drew it in, absorbing as much as she had ever held. Her body trembled with the energy as it threatened to destroy its host. She poured Chaos into the symbol on Curan’s arm. It glowed red, pulsed, and faded, bringing a wave of exhaustion with her magic expended.

  She then pressed the Chaos trap against the rune on her hand. Pain seared her skin as raw, electric energy poured into the rune. With her teeth gritted, Cassie held the Chaos trap in place until the magic was spent. Tossing the Chaos trap aside, she waited as the rune pulsed and began to fade.

  A gasp escaped as the augmentation took hold, the intake of her breath sounding louder, more distinct than normal. The darkness receded, the forest growing lighter as if it were midday.

  “Be well, Curan,” She said before slipping away.

  When Cassie used her magic on the symbol marking his arm, Curan’s vision turned white, and he feared he might fall from the saddle. His sight returned, but Cassie was gone.

  “Be well, Curan.” He heard her voice, but she was nowhere to be seen.

  Where’d she go? He wondered. Pushing the thought aside, he dismounted. “This fight is not for you, Gorgant. Stay here where it is safe. I will return if I survive.”

  He turned and ran, moving faster than humanly possible, powered by the augmentation. A leap took him beyond the p
ile of wagons and steam carriages at the edge of the wood. He landed north of the battlefield, not far from where Colossus stood. The machine was firing flashbombs toward Imperial war machines, across a sea of soldiers waiting for slaughter. With his shield leading, he slammed into the rear ranks, driving a particularly imposing soldier forward with enough force to knock down dozens of others.

  Curan drew his sword. Enemies to the left and right drew weapons in response. Cries of rage rang out from hundreds of warriors intent on murder.

  These soldiers had never fought a man under a Power augmentation. If they had, they would have run rather than fight.

  Blood began to rain upon the battlefield.

  Jonah ran, as did the hundreds of Kantarian soldiers with him. Captain Marcella, on her horse, led them at a trot with Thiron riding beside her. Even in the dark, it was easy to imagine the scowls imprinted on their faces.

  Thumps came from ahead as fire lit the evening sky. Wayport was dying. With that much firepower, the city had to be dying. An invading army of thousands had attacked at night, something that surprised even Marcella.

  Her army had trailed the enemy since leaving the prison, never approaching closer than four or five miles. When the attack began, Marcella stirred them into a hurried march. Despite a much smaller force with a single arcanist, she demanded they try to save the city. Fed with her fierce words of inspiration, that force now ran toward the enemy, banking on the advantage of surprise. Jonah just hoped they didn’t die from exhaustion.

  They rounded a corner, and a bridge came into view. Beyond the bridge, pandemonium.