Jymoor’s heart beat wildly. She held her fenlar and matched the pace of those around them. She felt sure it was only the power of the moon armor that gave her the strength to keep up.
“Just a bit slower, or we’ll be winded,” Kasil warned. She was breathing heavily.
They slowed a bit. Jymoor took a peek around through the wide visor. The Companions were still with them. Many had heavy armor, even shields.
As they closed to within fifty paces of the litter from behind, a few Quan caught sight of the attack and ran to intercept. Jymoor didn’t get a good look at the commander in the litter. She saw a long arm pointing to the fortress, doubtless issuing commands.
A Quan came toward Jymoor, its thick sword raised. Jymoor closed fearlessly and sidestepped as she watched the sword come down. She helped deflect the blow further with the shaft of her fenlar. The range was too close to stick the Quan with the barb of her weapon, so she simply thwacked him across the back of his head, sending his helm flying. Another Quan attacked her so she had to stab at him rather than finishing the wounded one. Then she threw the fenlar at the throat of a third enemy and drew her sword.
Master Kasil yelled and stuck the Quan next to her clean through. Blood spurted across Jymoor’s legs. She caught sight of a Quan too late. A tremendous blow to the armor knocked her back. A vague memory surfaced. Her previous death.
I remember that pain.
Jymoor stood stunned. As the Quan readied to finish her, the spear of a Companion plunged into one of its eyeballs and out the back of its head, sending gore spurting out. Someone helped steady her. Jymoor gripped her sword a bit tighter and continued forward.
The Companions had carved through the makeshift defense of the enemy leader. Jymoor approached the litter. The Quan standing nearby, presumably the litter carriers, had weapons but no armor. As she closed in, Master Kasil at her side, Jymoor finally saw the leader. He stood up on the vehicle.
“Moon protect me,” she said. It wasn’t a he, it was an it.
A huge gash of a mouth crossed the entire head, filled with a hundred white needle-teeth. A single eye was the only feature above the mouth. There was no white to it: the entire eye was glossy black. The thing was even taller than a Quan. The shoulders were broad, like a man, and heavily muscled. It had dark blue skin. A long mace of bone, ending in a heavy knob, dangled from its long arm.
“That’s one ugly—” Kasil cried.
The thing screamed in anger. The horrible mouth was so wide it looked like the top of its head would flop off.
Kill it kill it kill it!
Jymoor felt herself move toward it as if she was disembodied. The creature swung. Jymoor took the mighty blow and staggered. She thrust with her sword, grazing the monster’s side.
Its awful mouth came down. The sun was blocked out. Jymoor heard the nightmare sound of dozens of tiny teeth scraping the outside of her helm. She felt needle-stabs of pain in her neck and her eyebrow. She must have screamed, but she heard only the intolerable scraping. Jymoor released her helm strap with her left hand. Then her helm was pulled off, still in the thing’s mouth. The giant bluish thing rose above her and spat the helmet out.
Jymoor took a deep breath of the thick air. She released a battle cry from her parched throat. Her sword swung up in a quick slice. The creature’s right arm went flying away. Jymoor grunted in effort. Her sword came back down. The thing’s left arm dropped to the ground.
It screamed again, but this time, it was a less frightening, more pathetic noise.
Jymoor thrust, impaling the awful monster through the chest. As it collapsed beneath her, Jymoor stepped onto its chest, holding the pommel of her sword which stuck straight up at the sky.
Was that really me? Did I just kill it?
“Well done,” Master Kasil called to her. “But next time just thrust and be done with it. Also, pull your blade back out right away. You may need it again very, very soon.”
Great moon, is this a battle or a lesson?
Master Kasil caught her look and laughed. Jymoor heaved her blade out and collected herself for more fighting.
***
The last of the war birds had burned and died on the stained stones before Yeel. But the creatures were simply replaced by the next threat: heavily armored Quan.
“Is their armor primarily iron based, or perhaps it’s mostly copper?” Yeel asked quickly.
“Iron,” Vot replied. “I’m thinking the same thing you are.” She handed Yeel a stuffed bag of powder.
“Oh! You brought more than I have,” Yeel said. Both of them started to swing the bags around on the end of long, powerful tentacles.
Ascarans charged by on the bridge to meet the Quan. They held the attack at first, but Yeel judged it couldn’t last. Yeel and Vot launched the bags, sending them hurling forward over the bridge. Vot’s struck right at the front, where Ascarans fought the advancing Quan toe to toe. Yeel’s missile struck farther back. The containers burst upon impact, covering the Quan and a few of the Ascarans in front.
Vot handed Yeel another bag. The consistency felt different. Yeel knew it would be a fluid this time. He swung the bag round several times, gaining speed, then released it. Vot launched her own a moment later. This time as the bags struck and sprayed their contents, the effects were almost immediate. Steam rose from the Quan’s metal armor. The powerful humanoids were immediately in distress.
They danced about wildly in pain. Then pieces of their armor started to fall onto the stones of the bridge. The solution quickly ate away at the metal, heating it up and dissolving it as Yeel watched.
The Ascarans used the chaos to their advantage. They pressed forward, striking the Quan before them with their fenlar. More missiles came in from the towers above and behind. Dead bodies littered the way to the fortress. A few Quan threw the bodies of their brothers over the edge of the bridge, but they’d lost their momentum. Now the Ascarans pressed forward and regained most of the bridge. The unarmored Quan were no match for their fenlar. Some of the huge Quan warriors even jumped over the edge of the bridge.
“Their army is breaking up,” Vot observed. “Tuluk and his pod have destroyed most of the sea invaders.”
“The hormone worked quite well. They look quite enraged, still. In fact, I don’t think I will be going down there for quite some time. I would hate to have survived the attack simply to be sliced open by a giant sea predator.”
“And I see the army of Riken has struck at the leaders in the back. Their knights charged in from the flank. No wonder most of the Quan army is in shambles. The Meridalae have been soundly defeated. I wish I could say we won’t see them again here at Ascara-home.”
“I hope Jymoor isn’t harmed. Though I usually don’t favor the strong silent type, I still admire her. And she’s a good champion for her people. I think she had the moral fiber and work ethic to be of net benefit for her race.”
“The day is ours,” Vot said. “I thank you, Yeel. You’re a good friend. A fine fighter, too. Why, I think you didn’t flinch one time. Your well-aged body came close to harm, there is no doubt. I think I saw at least one Quan raise a javelin toward you.”
“No need to thank me,” Yeel replied. “It is I who should thank you for the opportunity to oppose the Meridalae. In fact, if memory serves, as it almost never does, I may owe you a debt for freeing me from them, many years ago. Believe me when I say that if I did in fact owe you such a debt I would make it one of my highest priorities to repay it. And in a timely manner, too, with interest as it were.”
“Think no more of it. Dismiss it from your mind. Beings as close as us have no need of the concept of debt. We each do what we can when we can. And now I must give thanks to the Rikenese. They trusted us. I must make sure they don’t regret it. It would be very embarrassing if they were now to all die to their barbarian horde.”
“I suggest you be brief. Their kind is loathe to speak or listen at length. Why I have lost count of the times I was interrupted before I could even re
ach midspeech! They won’t tolerate it, I tell you.”
“I was wondering why you had become so short-tongued. I thought maybe you were falling silent in your adult years. I’ll be as brief as I possibly can,” Vot said. “Perhaps a speech of only ten minutes? What do you think? Should I also use short sentences?”
“Hmm. The shorter the better. And you should consider making it five minutes,” Yeel advised. “Don’t underestimate how much they detest extended listening or speaking. In fact, I wonder just now, which do they hate more? I should ask Jymoor when I see her. Or perhaps conduct an experiment of some kind, as soon as I can devise it.”
***
Three hours later, the attacking army had scattered. Bodies lay on the bridge, sprawled on the beach, and floated in the sea, reminding everyone of the carnage. Vot moved forward from her guard of Ascarans toward the army of Riken. She moved unerringly toward Aruscetar. The ranks opened to allow her to approach. She came closer and addressed him.
“I am Vot. I find myself deeply in your debt.”
A reflected war cry from the previous battle washed over them. The Rikenese looked alarmed.
“Please ignore the echoes; they are normal for this place,” Vot said. “They may linger for hours more to remind us of our victory.”
Aruscetar gently took Vot’s hand and kissed it.
“Queen Vot. I am King Aruscetar of Riken. I’m sorry we had to meet under such dire circumstances.”
“I would like to welcome you and your men to Ascara-home and invite you to a feast, as thanks for your aid,” Vot said. “I can also immediately offer a piece of information. I’m sorry to speak so plainly and to the point, but I found a spy among my men. It became clear in a message we intercepted that you have a spy in your city as well, working for our enemies. The spy is called Seer Yune.”
Aruscetar’s visage fell. The king nodded slowly.
“I feared it. She has gone missing. Thank you for daring to say it. I believe you.”
“Oh, um, very sorry to interrupt your lord- and ladyships,” Yeel said. “However I see…that is, my very mystical and magical servants see, that the barbarians are approaching Maristaple again!”
“Queen Vot, would you be displeased if your new friends had to ask repayment for their aid in a hasty and rude manner?”
“We honor our debts gladly. I only regret that Tuluk and his pod cannot come fight with us.”
“Tuluk?”
“The sea dragons,” Jymoor explained.
“Well, perhaps they can come with us,” Yeel said. “I have an idea…”
Chapter 20: Battle under a Blue Sky
As Yeel reached the battlements, he heard a thunderous cheer coming from beyond the walls. The morning sun revealed the huge barbarian army encircling Maristaple. They brandished their weapons and assembled for a charge. Yeel saw ladders and rams scattered among the lightly armored warriors.
“Most likely they’ll simply try to overwhelm us from all directions,” Aruscetar said. “There are rams set up close to each gate. Our defenders are spread thin.”
“Yet we have to wait until they attack to deliver our surprises,” Yeel said. “Your men will have to hold for a short time.”
“I understand. Vot’s forces can’t attack now, or they’ll be overwhelmed while we sit here on the walls.”
They watched and waited as the horde seethed before them.
Somewhere out there, Methric is preparing to give the order. And he believes this is the best way for his people to flourish. Sad.
It didn’t take long. The screams on the field rose to a new height. Then waves of fighters surged forward toward the walls.
“Now!” urged Aruscetar. Yeel started to reel in a thin line. He collected several feet of it before it grew taught.
“I think it’s hung up on something.”
“They’re charging now! Get it unstuck!” Aruscetar yelled.
“Nope, it’s hopelessly stuck,” Yeel verified. “I’m going to have to go out there and free it.”
“Good damn luck! I’m not going out there with you!” Aruscetar bellowed.
But Yeel was already sliding down the outside of the tower. He dangled from his long tentacles, searching for new purchases lower on the face of the tower.
The deep voice of Aruscetar followed after him.
“If you succeed, we’ll sing of you every year on this date for sacrificing yourself to save us!”
As Yeel fell to the ground, none too softly, he pulled the line again. Warriors were bearing down upon him, perhaps a dozen paces away.
I’m going to need some protection.
Yeel projected the idea of a huge, monstrous worm tearing its way up from the ground. Its gaping mouth was wide enough to swallow a man whole. Then he slid forward as fast as he could, tugging on the line this way and that.
The warriors ahead of him broke to each side, giving him a wide berth. He plucked one man off his feet and tossed him away, just to add to the effect. It would look like the monstrous worm bowled the man over just by grazing him.
Yeel glanced behind him to his left. A huge ram approached the gate, carried by dozens of barbarians. The soldiers above tried using arrows to stop the men pushing it, but there were many hides and shields attached to the massive device to give cover to those manning it.
Finally, the line freed up from its snag. Yeel gave it a mighty tug. There was a loud popping noise. Up ahead, Tuluk appeared. The monster roared. It sounded like the squawk of a bird. The sea monster was the size of a small dog.
“I’d best make myself scarce,” Yeel told himself.
***
Jymoor stood with Vot on a field next to the roveportal’s new location outside the city of Maristaple. The last of the Ascarans walked through, carrying their fenlar.
“They’re charging! We have to commit our forces now!” Jymoor said.
“Not until we see Tuluk. Remember?”
“Yes, but…I thought we would see it as soon as they charged.”
“Tuluk is key to the strategy. And even failing strategy, its brute force has to be worth scores of men at least. Timing is critical. We can’t move until we see him. He breaks their line providing us the opportunity to flank. To do otherwise—”
“My pardon, Vot! But what if he doesn’t appear?” Jymoor interrupted.
By the moon, she’s just as long winded as Yeel.
“Then we might charge for that gate and try and destroy that ram. But the other gates will still fall. Perhaps if we could reach the castle—oh, there he is.”
Tuluk appeared above the heads of the barbarians seconds later. The creature rose taller. It snapped at a nearby man, ripping his head from his shoulders. Tuluk kept growing. Someone hurled a spear into its back, but the weapon looked increasingly insignificant as the monster gained half its normal size. Men were caught under its belly as it expanded to dominate the field. It moved fitfully, grinding its huge flippers against the soil, sending men flying.
“Let the attack begin,” Vot intoned. Somehow Jymoor heard it in her mind clearly as if Vot placed it there directly. It must have been the same for the rest of the Ascaran army, as they starting running forward as one, aiming to the right of the opening in the line created by Tuluk.
The barbarians were roiling about, contemplating what to do in the face of Tuluk’s sudden appearance, when they spotted the Ascaran charge and braced for it. Jymoor ran swiftly for someone in such heavy armor, able to keep up with the lighter Ascaran soldiers wielding their fenlar.
A man with an axe and a metal breastplate challenged Jymoor. He wore part of the skull of a bear or a lion over the top of his head. Its fangs descended over his brow, adding to his fearsome appearance.
But Jymoor had faced worse. She thrust for his throat as the axe descended on her shoulder. Both of them hit their target; Jymoor’s left shoulder felt a flash of pain but the man gurgled and died as Jymoor’s weapon sliced deep into his throat. She pulled the weapon out quickly.
An
other barbarian advanced to take the dead man’s place. Jymoor felt another spike of pain in her shoulder as she pointed her sword at the new threat.
My collarbone is broken. But at least it’s not on my sword arm’s side.
A spear thrust for her eyes. She moved her head aside. Her own counterthrust skittered off the man’s breastplate. Then the barbarian stood next to her. They were too close for their weapons. His horned helm came smashing into Jymoor’s helm, sending stars dancing through her vision.
This may be it.
The man fell dead. Master Kasil removed her sword from the man’s armpit.
“Don’t make things any harder than they need to be,” Kasil lectured. The woman moved forward to skewer another barbarian as Jymoor gathered her wits.
She looked about through her visor slit. The Ascarans had broken through the line on the south side, giving Tuluk’s rage a wide berth. The line was thin here, as many of the barbarians had fled Tuluk’s vicinity. Now the Ascarans were cutting through the remaining warriors rapidly.
“Proceed around the fortress counterclockwise to avoid Tuluk,” Vot said. Jymoor heard her even though Vot was nowhere nearby. “Roll up their flank. Our line will be perpendicular to theirs, allowing us to concentrate our force against a few of them at a time. Many of them are scaling the wall. Knock them off their ladders and set fire to their siege equipment with the firepacks.”
Jymoor’s shoulder started to hurt worse. She looked ahead at the barbarians engaging the Ascarans.
Perhaps over by the wall. Maybe I’m still in good enough shape to finish off some of the men who’ve fallen from ladders…my armor should be distinct enough to keep me from being shot with an arrow from above.
Jymoor worked her way closer to Maristaple’s walls. The first barbarian she approached was just staggering up. Jymoor suspected he’d fallen from one of the damaged ladders nearby. His arm was blooded. Spotting Jymoor’s approach, he looked for a weapon.
The House of Yeel Page 18
