Fate of the Tyrant (The Eoriel Saga Book 3)

by Kal Spriggs

  Aerion nodded. Short rations would make his men weaker when it came to fight. "What about the defenses?"

  "Well," Sergeant Millar said, "the wall is intact, but there's places those beasts could probably scale, especially with the heavy snowfall. We knocked down some of it and we've got some cauldrons to boil water and pour to melt snow for the rest, but that may be a losing struggle."

  Aerion nodded at that. The heavy snows in winter could get ten or even fifteen feet deep, with drifts over thirty feet high. While the winter had been cold, the snowfalls until now had been relatively light. With this storm, they might have reached the heavy snowfall that would shut down movement until spring. They wouldn't be able to reach far beyond the edge of the wall, even with boiling water. If that was the case, soon enough the beasts would be able to leap from the snow bank down to the wall and then into the village.

  "What about escape routes?" Aerion asked.

  Aerion looked at Walker, who had a distant look on his face, "Walker," he said. His friend blinked and looked at him. Aerion waved at the others, "Escape routes?"

  "Oh," Walker smiled, "right." He stood, "I got with some of the refugees and searched through some of the tunnels they knew about. There is a set of tunnels that links some of the houses, but it's in bad shape. Several sections are filled with water. I found one section that leads to the wall, but it's flooded from there."

  Aerion's lips pursed, "I see." Ravening beasts outside, a howling gale fit to bury them, and rations low enough that they wouldn't survive the rest of the winter. His right arm tingled to remind him that at least they had dealt with the internal threat.

  "How smart are the Karaskir?" Aerion asked of Jarek.

  "Smarter than wolves," Jarek responded. "Clever, but not intelligent, I think."

  "Perhaps we could lay a trap?" Aerion asked.

  "With what?" Sergeant Millar scoffed.

  "Well," Walker said with a smirk, "Jarek said they're drawn to blood and we do have all those fresh bodies."

  The others looked at him with a mix of surprise and disgust, and the small man gave a shrug, "What? It isn't as if we can bury them. The ground is rock hard. We can't spare the wood to burn them, either. Why not make use of Vuk and his men?"

  Despite himself, Aerion nodded slowly. "A baited trap... but what kind of trap?"

  Jarek began to smile and he took the cold compress off his eye and looked over at them. "In my childhood, I used to play a game with my brother..."

  ***

  Chapter IX

  Captain Aerion Swordbreaker

  Aerion looked over at Jarek, "You're sure they're scared of fire?"

  Jarek sighed, "No. I said most creatures don't like fire, so it makes sense that these wouldn't like it either."

  Aerion rubbed his face. He glanced back at where his men had gathered. They looked tired and several of them looked scared. "Its fine, men, this will work," Aerion said in as confident a voice as he could muster.

  "It better work," Walker muttered, "or we're all dead."

  Aerion scowled down at his friend, but he didn't argue. It was just the kind of all or nothing gamble that Bulmor hated. Aerion, though, didn't see another way to do it.

  "Alright, everyone get in position," Aerion said.

  He and Oren walked across the village to the gate. Morag and Dale were in position on the platform on the side near where the gate opened. "Ready?"

  "Yes, Captain," Dale said, while Morag just nodded. Aerion wasn't certain how much the big earthblood understood about what they were doing, but as the only man stronger than Aerion, they needed him for this task. And as much as I'd rather be up there with him right now, Aerion thought, I can't really let someone else take all the risk.

  He glanced at Oren, who gulped nervously. "You ready?" Aerion gave him a smile.

  Despite his obvious terror, Oren nodded. At this point, either the refugees were all ready and his men were in place, or else Walker would have signaled.

  "Okay," Aerion shouted, "Do it!"

  Morag reached down to the platform and hoisted up a body. Senko's by the look of it, Aerion thought. With no sign of effort or disgust, he threw the body over the wall to land in front of the gate. At the same time, Dale lifted up on one of the ropes hanging from the platform. The crossbar holding the gate closed lifted up.

  Outside the gate, Aerion heard snarling and growling and other, far less pleasant noises as the Karaskir fought over the corpse. And then, just when he worried that they wouldn't notice, one of them must have shouldered the gate.

  The heavy wooden gate jarred open, only a few inches, but Aerion heard the snarls change pitch. Another of the creatures smashed into the gate with real force this time and the gate swung open. Only fifty yards away, a half dozen of the Karaskir stood, their jaws agape and dripping with bloody saliva, a smear of red-streaked snow the only remains of the body they had fought over.

  "Run!" Aerion shouted to Oren and he broke into a run himself, headed away from the gate and towards the center of town. He hoped that the Karaskir, regardless of their intelligence, would still act like predators when they saw prey in flight.

  The Karaskir at the gate began to bay and howl and a look over his shoulder showed the creatures explode into motion, far faster than he had hoped. He realized that the creatures must be faster than a galloping horse. Aerion turned his head forward and sprinted, even though he could practically feel their hot breath on the back of his neck. Let's see how they take corners, he thought as he and Oren raced past Vuk's house.

  They both turned at the corner and Aerion looked back just in time to see several of the Karaskir bowl into each other in a snapping, howling tangle. Aerion didn't pause, he just dug deep, lungs burning and legs feeling weak as he sprinted past the hanging corpses of Vuk and his men, strung from the largest trees in the village like some obscene fruit.

  Not a heartbeat after he past the last of them, Oren just ahead, he heard snarls and the sounds of tearing flesh as one of the Karaskir attacked a hanging body. The snarls rose into a crescendo of snapping jaws and howls as the rest of the pack swarmed in.

  Aerion saw the barricade ahead and he saw men putting torches to the piled wood and brush as he raced up. He didn't hesitate, he just dove over it, right behind Oren. A moment later he stumbled to his feet and turned, just in time to see the last of the corpses ripped down from the trees. The Karaskir fought over the last body and then their huge, wolf-like heads focused on Aerion and his men. The creatures bound forward, their snouts covered in blood.

  The dried wood seemed to take forever to ignite. "Spears ready!" Aerion called, even as he drew his sword. His men lowered their spears in a wall, but the Karaskir didn't hesitate as they bore down on them.

  At last, though, the fire flared up, a half-circle around them. The lead Karaskir flinched back and Aerion cheered with the others as the charge of the creatures faltered.

  The blaze wouldn't last long, Aerion knew, but it only needed to last long enough.

  More and more Karaskir swarmed in, drawn by the howls and growling of the others of their pack. Ten became fifteen, then twenty, then almost thirty of the hulking, evil-looking creatures. They snapped and bit at each other, driven mad by the scent of blood and seemingly unnerved by the roaring flames that separated Aerion's men from the huge beasts. "Give the signal," Aerion said as no more of the beasts emerged.

  Walker blew his horn and a moment later, Dale, on the platform at the gate gave two blasts in return. "Get the refugees moving," Aerion said to Walker. "Quickly!" They only had so much wood, Aerion knew. If they couldn't sustain the flaming barricade long enough, then they would all die.

  Walker ran to the rear and signalled the men on the wall's platforms. They lowered their ladders over the wall, even as the refugees swarmed up the ladders from the inside. At the gate, Dale and Morag should be pulling the gate closed with the ropes they'd buried...

  Dale gave two horn blasts and Aerion felt a smile start to grow on his face. That mea
nt that Morag and Dale had shut the gate and dropped the bar. The two men would also nail the bar in place as long as none of the Karaskir were within sight, before climbing over the wall with their ladder.

  Behind him, on the platforms, refugees lowered the ladders that Aerions men had brought from all the other platforms, even as more refugees scrambled up from the inside. Walker and the squad he'd picked moved them along, keeping their movement orderly and preventing a panic.

  Aerion turned back to face the Karaskir and his smile died. The creatures could see what was happening. Several of them made dashes at the flaming barricade, driven back by the fire, yet each time coming closer.

  "Archers!" Aerion called, and those of his men with crossbows and bows fired into the creatures. Yet the big beasts shrugged off the impacts. One of them, struck by four or five arrows, let out a howl and charged right at Aerion's men. The huge beast plowed into the flaming barricade, making no attempt to leap it.

  It gave a shriek as its hide ignited, but in its frenzied charge the Karaskir knocked a broad section of the baricade away. "Spears!" Aerion shouted, yet he knew it was too late.

  The creature, set afire, rolled in the snow to extinguish itself, even as two more Karaskir darted through the gap. One of them leapt forward, jaws agape and snapped at the wall of spears while the other tried to barrel its way through.

  Aerion saw a dozen men stab the beast, yet it still plowed into them and sent men tumbling. Aerion charged for the gap, "Hold your ground!" he shouted. Even as he ran for the weak spot, he saw two more of the Karaskir attack. One caught one of his men by the ankle and dragged him back through the barricade where it ripped the man apart. Another bounded forward and raced for the fleeing refugees. Aerion hoped that Walker and his squad would deal with the creature, even as he heard panicked screams from the refugees.

  As another Karaskir came through the gap, Aerion gave a cry and charge at it. The creature seemed confused at the attack and hesitated. Aerion came in shield first and as his sheild slammed into the creature's face, he activated a set of its runes. The explosive force blasted the Karaskir's head into ruin and sent its heavy body stumbling back. The other two Karaskir in the gap turned to face him, teeth bared.

  "Hold the line!" Aerion shouted.

  Lord Jarek gave a battlecry as he led a half-dozen of Aerion's men to charge the beasts from the side. One of the Karaskir went down with spears buried in its ribs. The other, seeing a ring of spears converging on it, leaped for Aerion.

  Aerion had no time to back away. He aimed the Starblade and braced his shield, activating still more of the runes that he had seen stop thrown boulders. Even so, the avalanche of flesh knocked him flat, even as his sword drove into the creature's heart.

  A moment later, hands caught his shoulder and someone pulled him out from under the beast. Aerion looked over and saw that his men had closed the gap and the surviving Karaskir stared at his men through the flames, their eyes glittering with malevolent intelligence.

  One of the bigger ones snarled, and a pair of Karaskir shied away. The big one snarled again and two of them loped away, in the direction of the gate. "If I didn't know better," Aerion groaned, "I'd say that big one just told the other two to go check the gate."

  "I'm afraid you're right," Jarek said. He looked back at where the refugees swarmed over the wall. "They'll rush us if we start to fall back."

  Aerion nodded and his gaze went to the three barrels that he'd had placed on the platforms. "I hope this works," he replied.

  The last of the refugees had started to stream over the wall when Aerion heard angry howls from the other side of town. The howls were matched by the remaining Karaskir, who tightened in on the flaming barricade.

  "Sergeant Gorich!" Aerion called out, "Pull your section back!"

  Half his company turned and hurried for the ladders, even as the rest of his company began to withdraw, spears held facing the enemy. The Karaskir snarled and several of them made dashing lunges at the barricade in spots where the fire had started to die down.

  The remaining forty men backed until they were almost under the wall, and now the boldest of the Karaskir knew that the time had come. Several of them bounded forward and then leapt over the barricade. One of them didn't quite clear it and it let out yelping screams as its rear legs came down in the burning wood. The other though, three in all, raced for Aerion's men.

  "Light them!" Aerion shouted.

  The Karaskir raced closer, only a dozen yards away.

  "Now!" Aerion shouted.

  Walker's squad, three men on each platform, lifted the barrels, each wrapped in a burning, oil-soaked cloth, and heaved them as far as they could.

  The barrels landed ten feet in front of Aerion's men. The barrels shattered, splashing oil everywhere, which then ignited in a sheet of liquid flame... right in front of the five Karaskir.

  Several of his men slapped at where burning oil had splashed them, but the Karaskir yelped in surprise and tried to stop. One of them managed, but the others, their paws skidding on the ice and snow, slid into the burning oil. All four of them howled and rolled, trying desperately to escape the flame. They came out of it, running, their fur and skin alight and the other Karaskir shied away from them.

  "Move!" Aerion shouted, "Up the ladders!"

  His remaining men needed no encouragement. The burning oil patches were already growing smaller. Aerion bounded up the ladder, the last one, even as the other Karaskir swarmed forward. He heard jaws snap shut like a steel trap just as his men pulled the ladder up behind him.

  Aerion lay on the platform and fought to breathe. His entire body trembled in reaction, even as the trapped Karaskir snarled and snapped below him.

  "Well," Walker said, as he looked over the edge, "You weren't lying. This place is a trap." He looked down at Aerion, "But not for us."

  Aerion sat up and Walker gave him a hand to his feet. He looked over at where the refugees and his men were already marching, headed west towards safety, each of them carrying food and supplies for the journey. "Yeah," Aerion looked down at the angry, slavering beasts, trapped within the village's walls, "Not for us."

  ***

  Lady Katarina Emberhill

  Zielona Gora Keep, Barony of Zielona Gora

  22nd of Annat, Cycle 1000 Post Sundering

  Lady Katarina Emberhill glared at her war council as they bickered like old women. The most egregious, in her mind, was Earl Joris of Olsztyn. "...I simply cannot conscience such a reckless move," he continued. "Surely the wise course would be for us to win over more of the nobility, so that they can levy their loyal subjects, rather than assembling a rabble of mercenaries and displaced commoners and calling it an army."

  Katarina bit her tongue on her immediate response. She knew that she must at least maintain some measure of neutrality and open-mindedness... even when Joris sought to provoke her by being deliberately insulting. Especially then, she thought, because that means he wants to manipulate how others perceive me. She was only too well aware that this revolution of hers could be hijacked by ambitious men like Earl Joris, if she wasn't cautious.

  "That rabble," Baron Theodore of Nine Peaks responded, "has been behind every major defeat of Hector's men so far. In fact, the latest news is that Covle Darkbit's last holdouts have pulled out of the south. The next place they can fight us past Lower Debber is Castle Ember: the Ducal Seat. We're in striking distance of Hector, if we can hold onto what we've taken and marshal enough soldiers to continue."

  Earl Joris grimaced at that, though whether it was because the rebuke came from his longtime rival or because Katarina hadn't risen to his bait, she couldn't say. Maybe it is the reminder that his men did so poorly against Darkbit, she thought, or that Hector's mercenaries still garrison the village of Orlen, which is one of his holdings and that rumors say his people begged those mercenaries to stay.

  That last she could believe. The Earl of Olsztyn had a reputation for cold-blooded ruthlessness and a cold disregard for the w
ell-being of his people. She felt more than a little pity for the villagers of Orlen once Hector's mercenaries did withdraw. She doubted the Earl would forget the slight.

  "Still," Earl Joris said, "how can we be certain of the loyalties of these men? That is why the nobility have their vassals, is it not, to have loyal, well-trained troops?"

  Loyal to you and those like you, maybe, Katarina thought to herself.

  "This is why the army will be unified under the cause of defending Masov," Katarina said. "And it will be made up of commoners and noblemen from throughout the duchy." She didn't have to say that those men and women were already in training. While the heavy snow hampered their formation practice, they still managed to train in squad and section size elements in the warehouses and here within the Keep. As soon as spring came, they would have plenty of time to practice larger groups until the roads were dry enough to march.

  Earl Joris gave her a slight nod, yet she didn't miss the angry clench of his jaw.

  "Now, then," Katarina said, "What does our supply situation look like?" She looked down the table to where Solis normally sat. Benedykt, a former officer from her father's army had taken the former innkeeper's place for this meeting. From what she understood, Solis was caught on the far side of the city and it would be several hours before he was able to make it back given the weather.

  Benedykt stood up, "Well, my Lady," he smiled, "I'm afraid we didn't get in quite as many supplies as we had hoped."

  "What?" Katarina asked in surprise. "It was my understanding that we received the last of the expected grain shipments just before this last storm."

  Benedykt nodded, "Well, yes," he said, his smile congealing a bit, "but after careful inventory, we've been using much more than I think Master Solis expected." Was it Katarina's imagination, or was there an edge to the man's tone when he said his superior's name? Benedykt went on, "In fact, my Lady, after a careful evaluation, I think that we'll run out of food well before the spring crops are in the ground. In fact, without strict rationing, I think--"