The Ravens of Carrid Tower

by David c Black

  "Problem is it doesn't last long."

  "Right, burns itself out quickly. If you mix it with oil and sugar, tar too perhaps, and ignite it, the flames will spread nicely and stick to anything it touches. No amount of water can put it out. Even a small drop on the skin will burn until it has used all of the fuel."

  "I see. Very interesting. And the rest"

  "This stuff makes clouds of thick white smoke. It's a little heavier than most other gasses so tends to hang in the air for a long time, depending on the wind."

  "Can't see nuffin, hard to breath"

  "What about the smaller vials"

  "A mix of stuff there. These two smoke the second the glass is broken. Not as thick as the other clouds, but poisonous. A few breaths will kill a man. This one will boil water, a lot of water. This one puts lightning into water"

  "Lightning?"

  "It's not lightning." Harlon said. "It's a charge, something magnetic I think."

  "Flashes?"

  "No, makes people who touch it have a stroke."

  "They are not having a stroke Harlon." Locke said. "They look like they are being struck by lightning. Seen it before. You ain't."

  "Fine." Kellick said. "Whatever. Makes them die. Good enough for me. How much do we have?"

  "Have?"

  "How many of these weapons."

  "Depends how strong you want them."

  "God help me. There's two hundred thousand fanatics going to be jumping over that wall. We have at best, very best, forty thousand able hands and I’m including in that thirty thousand armed citizens. We need bombs and grenades and anything else you can cook up. They need to be strong enough to be deadly, but also have enough of them to last two weeks. How many can we make?"

  The brothers looked at each other with furrowed brows as they silently agreed a figure.

  Harlon spoke first. "We can make fifty barrel bombs, a few hundred small fire bombs for throwing, ten smoke bombs, maybe twenty poison gas bottles. Then there's the boiling and lightning. Have to use it all in one go really. How much water are we talking about?"

  "I don't know yet. Enough to flood a street?"

  "All of it then."

  "Good, I want you both to walk with me. Azon come too. I will show you the plan and we can decide where these... things can go."

  "We need supplies."

  "Whatever you need in the city you can take."

  "Won't do. Have to go back to Carrid."

  "Why?"

  "Supplies!" The other one said. "Need glass for the grenades, mixing agents, firing wicks, refined oil. The works. Azon's going to take us."

  "No, I’m not!"

  "How are we going to get back then?"

  "I'm not a taxi service!" The monk said looking to his Captain for help.

  "You know exactly what you need?" Kellick asked the mages.

  "Yep." both said in together, nodding their heads excitedly.

  "Know where to get it?"

  "Frank’s on the 4th level has the glass. He's the only blower outside the military who can make it right. Rest of the stuff we can steal from the committee vaults again."

  “Why didn’t you get it the first time?”

  “Azon could only carry one box” Locke said seeming to find this hilarious.

  "Very well, Azon take them."

  "But, sir?" The monk pleaded with exasperation.

  "Do it. And get back here quick."

  "Well they can't both go, I can’t carry..."

  "Course we can Azon. We go there and talk to Frank. You take us back. Then jump back to his shop to get the boxes. Only be a few trips."

  "I am not a taxi!!"

  "For Carrid Azon, for Carrid." The Captain said patting the man on the arm.

  "Fine we go now, you two get here." And then suddenly they disappeared with the Monk mumbling something about dignity.

  Mad, absolutely raving mad. They might just save us though.

  Later that day the Captain would get more good news with a knock at his door.

  "Come in." Kellick said without looking up from the scribbles he was making on stacks of city maps and at least one sewage plan scattered across his desk. Mak stepped in the room waiting for the Captain to address him. He did not.

  "Captain."

  "What?" Kellick said, before realising who the words belonged to and jumped to attention "Sir, you're back. I wasn't expecting..."

  "It will be my last chance to leave Rand until they come, so I joined the march here. I wanted to see the progress too."

  "You brought men?"

  "As many as I could."

  Kellick looked at the general expectantly.

  Tell me the numbers.

  "A thousand pikes, two thousand swords. Could only get five hundred bowmen. There's food too, a lot of grain. Those bastards in the fort wouldn't part with a bean. I had to buy it off the farmers in the borderlands. Not all of it is ripe but it will have to do. Ha, I wish I could see the quartermaster’s face when they try and purchase from them in a few weeks."

  "They will hate you."

  "Not me, you did it. Captain Kellick was most generous the farmers will say. Paid cash up front."

  "I'll probably be dead by then anyway."

  "Dead, but with a full stomach.”

  "Aye. What about weapons? Ammunition?"

  “A few wagons. Best we could do. How's it looking anyway?"

  "I'll show you." The two walked out the tent into the desert’s dry heat. "Azon brought some mages."

  "Some? He did well"

  "Two brothers"

  "What are they like?"

  "Crazy, Mak."

  "Ha, they always are odd balls and misfits."

  "I thought it was just Deoni, but these two make him look almost sane."

  "No they’re all like that. Before the army had a place to put these kinds of people they didn't fit well in ranks. Too smart and independent. In a disciplined environment, they manifest a rebellious nature. Not always toxic, but certainly a rouge element for commanders to at least try and factor in. They either end up running away or being promoted every year until they make general. Ultimately it comes down to character. But those mages, they only take a few a year. I've heard it said that the recruiters, all mages themselves, look for brilliant men who lean towards the wrong side of courage."

  "Reckless men?"

  "As you said, crazy men. They would be scientist or scholars if they hadn't been foolish enough to enlist and have such a penchant for blowing stuff up. But we can trust them. Do not underestimate those two, Kellick. They along with Azon will likely be your best chances of getting out of here"

  "They brought a lot of kit."

  "Good."

  The pair walked further into the city and the din of hard labour started to fade. This far away from the walls, the work had barely begun.

  When they were out of earshot from any one in street hurrying to their allotted task, Mak started speaking again quietly.

  "Cillius is on his way, we got a bird earlier saying he has left the capital. He'll be here in a week."

  "We knew it would be him."

  "Yes, but you need to hurry up. A week to here, then two days to reach the Shaa. Nine days. Three days for the Shaa to make it to the walls. Twelve days, maybe fifteen if he is slow to follow up."

  "Not enough time. We can't start work on the outside of the walls until Cillius has gone with Azon."

  "It will have do, he can't come inside. Whatever he says, whatever time he arrives, straight to the Quoroubi."

  "Yes sir. How long are you here for?"

  "Head back tomorrow. I'm taking over the 4th. Adderock’s loyalists are still in charge at Rand though, I’m just a guest."

  "This is madness."

  "It is, but until the Shaa attacks we can't help you."

  "I have a mind to kill Jaro."

  "He is finished, Kellick. Aldo has enough evidence now. When the Shaa strikes the Assembly will devour him. I'll have the 4th in battle readiness from
the moment I get back, be damned with Adderock. As soon as Azon jumps back, we'll march. Ten days Kellick. You have to hold for ten days."

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Quoroubi Desert

  Bundle who had been riding point ahead of Chiros' band through the thinning grasslands that skirted this side of the Quoroubi, was first to spot the dead. A score or more of mostly bare skeletons, piled in a mangled heap, crusted dark blood encircling the tragic sight. What flesh had been left on the bones was now being picked at by a group of carrion birds, their crest feathers stained a deep crimson.

  "What happened to them?" Bo asked.

  "They've been eaten lad. Eaten alive and whatever was left tossed here." Toke said grimly.

  "I thought this was meant to be the safe route around the desert?" Bo asked again with more concern.

  "He's right Toke, this is worrying." Chiros said in the wagon’s passenger seat next to Wit who had picked up his crossbow and started to cock it.

  "Aye." Toke replied, "Plus it's relatively fresh."

  "We should get out of here, if this has been left to rot, the village down there must be more of the same. They could still be there." Bundle said, speaking up for the first time since seeing the tissue-less bodies.

  "I agree with him." Wit added. “This is bad."

  "Aye." Toke said again, turning to Chiros. "Sir, we need to go back."

  "To the jungle?"

  "Yes, we're too exposed on the plain."

  "I need to get back to Carrid, Toke."

  "We'll circle round, just going to take longer."

  "I think it's a bit late for that gentleman." Wit said with forced calmness. "We've got company." Pointing to a farmhouse with his free hand, the other holding the crossbow. Two scrawny shirtless men stumbled out. The instant they laid eyes on the party, both started screaming, pointing back up the hill towards them.

  "Kill them Wit." Toke shouted, but the top hatted man had already loading a bolt and was taking aim at the larger of the two on the left. Wit pressed the trigger. The crossbow violently snapped out of his hand, smashing him in the side of the face with the bow's arm. Holding a hand to his cheek, blood pouring between his fingers he retrieved the weapon from Chiros who had leaned down to pick it up. The bolt’s feathers had trapped in the steel and ripped from the bolt’s shaft to protrude like a brush out of the flight groove. Wit tugged at them hard, to no avail.

  "Pass me that lantern, if you would, sir"

  Chiros quickly handed it over and Wit reached inside to grab the oil light inside, using it to singe the feathers away and then dig the rest out with his knife.

  Toke, seeing Wit's weapon misfire ran to the wagons rear, retrieving his recurve bow and quiver. Stringing it on the run back into range of the desert fanatics, he released an arrow striking true. Taking aim on the next man, Toke suddenly relaxed his arms as his quarry was smashed backwards and crumple inwards on the floor, a bolt taking him dead centre. He looked over to the wagon, where Wit stood standing, half of his face covered in blood.

  "Piece of shit weapon." Wit said holding the crossbow up.

  "Didn't you get it at the night market?"

  "Yeah, that's true. First time I've fired it, think I've got the wrong bolts or something."

  "Put it away then, Wit." Toke said seriously.

  Bundle had also seen the weapon malfunction, and not having too much confidence in Toke's decade out of practice range work, decided the safest option was to race down the bank and cut them down with his sword, stopping only when the second missile smashed into the emaciated man. Trotting back up the hill, Bo

  noticed that he was laughing.

  Gods, they seem to have enjoyed it.

  "There's no way those two were out here alone." Toke said, shading his eyes with a single hand as he searched the deserted hamlet for movement. It was abandoned, but the screams of the two men too weak to follow the flock any longer had indeed been heard. Out of sight behind the dip in the far-off road a war band had been stirred, now running with crazed, hungry eyes back towards them.

  "Can anyone hear that?" Bo said with reference to a low rumble somewhere in the distance, his young ears more acute than the others. Bundle furthest ahead halted his horse.

  "Shit.” Toke said to himself, looking back at the pair in the wagon again genuine concern this time in his expression. “Turn it around, Wit!” He shouted. “We need to get out of here!”

  They were too late.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Drorea

  "We’ve spotted the first few lancers in the pass, your highness. The rest aren’t far behind."

  "So, this is it then." Citalley said rhetorically.

  "Yes, sire."

  "Who's first?"

  "A legion, followed by the war wagons. Scouts are everywhere in the forest looking for traps. And us."

  "We can deal with the cavalry later. I'm more concerned with those damned wagons."

  "Me too." The officer agreed.

  "Are we ready?"

  "And waiting, highness. We should go back, those riders will be here soon."

  "Let's go." Citalley nodded, jogging back from the makeshift outpost on a forested hill to the rest of his men.

  A bell later the first wing of Naru lancers cantered down the narrow road cut through the forest. A quarter bell after that four riders rode back down the track and the boots of the first legion could heard pummelling the ground in cadence shortly after.

  "They know to wait? You're sure?"

  "They'll wait. They all know the stakes"

  "Good. We get one shot at this..."

  "Your highness"

  "Yes?" Citalley looked up quickly, concern in his eyes.

  "Don't worry." Tielli smiled warmly. The two had become close since they had departed the capital moons ago. "Your plan will work. Your men are with you."

  Friends

  "I have been thinking Tielli"

  "About?"

  "I've killed them haven't I?"

  "Who?"

  "All of us"

  "No, highness. You are not to blame for this. Whatever happens it is Galtus who struck the first blow. You commanded little more than a company when he crossed the Wirrow"

  "Not the invasion, no. But... staying to fight."

  I should have listened to Dalia and withdrawn.

  "It is the honourable choice. If you had ordered them to sail to Riam, many would have stayed anyway. You are our King, Citalley. But this is their home. Would you have taken their families too? Over the sea?"

  "I... I couldn't. We don't have enough ships for the soldiers as it is"

  "And they know that too. Thousands would have disbanded and become partisans in the forests. As long as you are here they have someone to rally behind."

  They would stand a better chance of survival in the wild

  "You're right" Citalley said.

  The two watched the legion marching through the forest from concealment on the hill, thousands of heavily armed men, their faceless masks haunting the young King slightly. They seemed more dangerous than his men. Inhuman. Cold.

  Snap out of it Citalley. They are just men behind those masks. In unfamiliar territory. Probably more frightened than I am.

  “It’s time, highness” Tielli said to the young king. Citalley lowered the long, polished brass looking glass and nodded in agreement.

  “Do it.”

  Citalley had learned from his officers that war wagons and heavy cavalry posed the greatest threat to Drorean forces, who rode much lighter war deer. Out in the open or in a head on charge his men would suffer.

  But here, in the thick forest. I have the advantage. Cover and surprise.

  Barrels and wicker balls filled with oil-soaked flax had been quietly pushed out of the tree line along the low hills that flanked the forest track. They were ignited and white smoke quickly plumed under the canopy before being rolled down towards the road and bursting into flames as they picked up speed and oxygen. Seeing the balls of fire
careening towards them shouts could be heard and the empire’s disciplined legionaries formed shield walls around the wagons, most easily manoeuvring out of the path of the burning objects.

  Lancer wings bolted from the main train of legionaries and raced forward down the road away from the fire. Around a sharp bend kingdom soldiers heaved tree trunks brimming with wooden spikes across the path before running back into cover with the rest of the archers. The first row of horses crashed straight into it, bodies of men and beast shattered before being crushed by mounts from behind. A few managed to halt their horses in time before being pushed forward adding themselves to the mangled pile of dead and mortally wounded. Bows thwacked and arrows shot out from the trees downing any lancers still standing.

  Citalley had ordered that every drop of combustible liquid from refined machine lubrication to whale oil be brought to him, even requiring that kingdom subjects extract it from any lanterns they owned before evacuating their homes. He mixed it with pulped sugar cane and as many bottles of Bolar’, exceptionally strong rum made in the Lyrol plantations with the very same cane.

  The first barrel smashed into a war wagon, it’s occupants already trying to get off the vehicle as quickly as possible, most still trapped in the transport bay and on the roof, crowding round the ladder or simply jumping off onto the ground. A distance far too high to attempt under any other circumstances than burning alive. The barrel exploded and fire erupted around the towering mechanical castle on wheels. Horses tried to bolt almost tipping the war wagon over before the driver slashed at their fastenings allowing them to run away. Men tried to exit wherever they could, the small windows, a single door or the high arrow deck. Many landed straight into the flames that spread across the ground and screams added to the chaos on the roads.

  Naru discipline evaporated down the line as blasts obliterated entire sections of the forested path, engulfing hundreds of men. Citalley’s concoction thinned as it was heated and flowed down the path as quickly as rain water. It stuck to any surface, particularly the boots of flailing soldiers and then their hands as they tried to pat the flames out. Each time the soldiers frantically waved their arms trying to extinguish burning clothes, tiny fire balls flicked off their limbs with each motion, spreading the inferno further.