The_Sword_of_Gideon
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“But we’ve no time at all,� Emory said.
“Mordred still has to organize and march his army to Evelah,� Isaiah said. “That time alone may make all the difference in the world in polishing away the rust you’ve all allowed to eat away at your skills here.�
The priests of Wayland’s Order had lapsed in their duties which should have included rigorous training exercises. Isaiah’s priests, along with Ethan and Seth, had taken up positions on the polished stone courtyard, currently used for meditation and prayer, in order to train them in small groups. Ethan had just finished an exercise with some of Wayland’s priests, when he heard a commotion from a neighboring group.
“I’m not going to be trained by a blind man,� one of the priests was saying. “It’s bad enough having you foreigners come into our Temple telling us what we should have been doing all this time. But to foist this handicapped man upon us…it’s just insulting.�
Seth stood in the midst of a group of nearly a dozen priests in black sparring robes as they argued amongst themselves. “If you’re so insulted, then why not prove that you don’t need my help?� Seth said. “Or are you simply trying to mask the fact that you’ve grown lazy here in the Wayland Order, to the point that you’re afraid to spar with one blind man?�
Now Seth had done it. Ethan watched as those priests encircled him. They were ready to fight now…maybe even to the death over such an insult.
Ethan walked with his group over to where Seth now stood in the middle of the angry priests. “Seth, are you okay over here?� he asked. Ethan knew it was a rhetorical question. After all, he couldn’t think of a time or situation where Seth hadn’t been all right.
Seth only smiled back in Ethan’s direction. “Oh yes, no problem,� he said. “I was just about to teach these men a lesson.�
Now they grew more enraged, yet no one made a move to attack him. “I’ll take him on first,� one of the priests said.
“Why not all together?� Seth laughed. “I wouldn’t want to take advantage of you, after all.�
If the blind priest had been attempting to bait them, he had now succeeded. Ethan watched as the men surrounding Seth came at him. First one and then two more were quickly knocked back into the others.
The priests took stock of themselves quickly and reorganized. Okay, so it wouldn’t be quite that easy. They formed a circle and then began to move in on Seth in a more organized fashion, trying to coordinate their attacks for success.
Once again, Seth took them on. The first he gouged in the ribs with a precisely placed front kick that sent the man doubled over in pain to the ground. The second and third, who came at the same time, he smashed in the jaw and swept the legs out from under, respectively. The remainder of the dozen attempted a rush and tackle which led Seth to dodge back and forth, blocking and attacking the closest, then next and so on, until all of them lay around him on the ground, holding one or two locations on their bodies in pain. Seth alone remained standing with a sour look on his face.
“Now, you sluggards, you will stand and go through the exercises I prescribe without another word, or I’ll thrash you until every single one of you spends the entirety of Mordred’s siege in the infirmary eating your food through a straw!�
Ethan had never seen Seth so fierce. He was almost prepared to line up himself. The priests, for their part, quickly got to their feet, despite their new pains, and stood erect, awaiting Seth’s instructions. “Very good,� he said with a stern smile. He nodded at Ethan, then went on with the training. Ethan went back to his own group and began again. There wouldn’t be much time to whip these men into shape. Mordred’s army would not wait.
ADVANCE
Gideon watched as Mordred’s army worked like insects to bring themselves ashore in the Northern Bay. The cluster of so many large ships in the bay made it appear as though a floating city had been erected overnight. Mordred had brought such a force, Gideon wondered how they could ever be stopped by any means King Stephen might still possess. His overwhelming defeat at Emmanuel had left Wayland’s king with precious few resources with which to wage war. Now war was coming to him instead.
The barges crowded the huge stretch of beach having been run as far aground as possible. Gideon had wondered how they would manage to unload their engines of war without them all sinking to the bottom of the bay, but now Mordred’s genius shined through. The giants, whom he had seen housed within the walls of Emmanuel City, now served as the muscle to bring Mordred’s barges closer to shore.
The big Anakims heaved upon huge sections of rope, at least two hundred per barge, dragging their vessels up, up, up until the bows sat upon the sand of Wayland’s shore. With more work, the ropes were then attached to separate moorings upon the decks. Entire forward portions of each deck were then unlocked and pulled forward on hundreds of ball bearings.
The deck plates, reinforced with a meshwork of steel construction underneath, then were eased down to the shore upon the shoulders of the giants. In the end, each forward deck had been transformed into a massive ramp reaching almost completely to the solid ground beyond the beach.
The crew was now free to unload the engines of war fastened to the deck plates, rolling them forward as trees were quickly cleared in order to make a suitable path. A narrow dirt road, leading from the beach back through the trees and into the countryside beyond, was quickly transformed into a much widened thoroughfare. Catapults, great battering rams, and siege engines were assembled on deck and then rolled down to take up their places in an ever lengthening parade headed toward Wayland’s capital city of Evelah.
Most of the Anakims had taken up the duty of clearing the way. With axe heads as big as a man, they cut down large trees as though hacking their way through mere brush. Others tossed or rolled the felled trees out of the way. With nearly a thousand of the giants all working to accomplish the tasks, in addition to the hybrid soldiers, the whole ordeal came off with startling efficiency.
Gideon watched it unfold for nearly two hours, himself fascinated by it and wondering what he might do to at least slow them down. So far he had been unable to come up with any good plan. Mordred’s Man-o-wars had been, all this time, unloading the main company of soldiers and their provisions onto smaller, shore-going boats. The Man-o-wars remained anchored behind the line of barges in the harbor. But as the ships had been lightened of their burdens, Gideon noticed something new happening onboard.
The hybrid crews had refashioned the sail rigging into some sort of net system which was then suspended from each of the three masts. As Gideon watched, the crews then brought out and unfolded what Gideon first supposed to be sail cloth. But beneath the suspended cloth, fires had been lit in special stoves. The cloth began to fill with hot air and rise up from the decks of the Man-o-wars.
Gideon still did not realize what Mordred was doing by the time the cloth had ballooned up into the nets. The material continued its expansion, with the flaming stoves stoked hot beneath them, until the canvas had billowed higher than the masts themselves and threatened to burst the nets which had been fabricated to hold them. Then, to Gideon’s complete astonishment, one of the Man-o-wars began to rise up out of the water.
Water cascaded down from the ship’s hull as the sea going vessel left its native habitat to take up residence in the atmosphere. It rose steadily higher until the ship was nearly as high as the surrounding trees. The other Man-o-wars began to do the same—each filling its sail cloth sacks with hot air and leaving the sea for the clouds.
The_Sword_of_Gideon
Upon each of the Man-o-wars, smaller sections of sail sprang out from both the starboard and port sides at mid-ship. Rotating fans of wood were mounted near the flanking sails and wind c
ranked into them by mechanisms working deep inside the ship. The Man-o-wars, now airborne, launched forward under their own wind, gliding forward effortlessly above the treetops toward the city of Evelah.
They weren’t fast, by any means, but that wouldn’t change the fact that they would reach Wayland’s capital much faster than the rest of the army. And if Mordred had devised these new craft for his attack, then there must be a great deal of danger in them. Gideon watched them, fascinated, for a moment longer before realizing that all of the small villages he had seen during his trek here would certainly be destroyed as the ground army moved toward the main city.
Thirty floating, flying Man-o-wars passed out of sight beyond the trees as the Anakims continued their labor below, allowing the ground army to make headway toward Evelah. Gideon had only one choice. He had to ride as fast as he could in order to reach each village and warn them in time to escape. Before the swords of this army, there would be no one spared, no pity, and no remorse.
Gideon hadn’t been as fast as he had hoped. He’d not been close to the road leading back into Wayland, opting for a vantage point on the Isthmus where he could better see what was in the bay. That advantage had cost him his ability to get ahead of the surging front of Mordred’s forces.
Still, under the cover of the forest, Gideon had managed to pass the slower progress of the giant Anakims as they moved a great swathe of trees from the path of the army following behind them. But cavalry had ridden ahead of everyone else and were already plundering the first village in their path when Gideon arrived on horseback.
Many bodies of the villagers lay strewn in the road among the two dozen or so common structures, some of which had been set ablaze already. The hybrid soldiers were busy killing everything that moved. Mordred would have no use for prisoners, only the cattle and horses that might be added to his army’s stores.
As Gideon breached the tree line, he nocked and released arrows in rapid succession until his quiver was spent. Each broad-head shaft found its mark true, leaving more than a dozen ponies running wild without their riders. Still wearing most of his stolen Wayland armor, Gideon drew quick attention to himself among the villagers running terrified around him.
Two riders approached from among several huts already burning. Both of them archers, they drew and released arrows at Gideon. He backhanded the first away and caught the second in the same hand. He felt alive again, renewed, forgiven.
Gideon knocked the arrow and returned it to the rider who had shot it at him. He drew his sword as the second rider drove his horse hard toward him. Gideon waited for the man to swing, fell backward in his saddle to dodge the broadsword, then followed through by rolling backward off the hind quarters of his horse, coming to stand below the other rider. Before the hybrid soldier realized where he was, Gideon struck him in stomach from below. The rider sagged in his saddle, trying to fall, but his boot remained lodged as his terrified horse dragged him away from the village.
Only a few riders remained. Most of them had realized by now that their fellows were dropping like flies. They ignored the villagers and came at Gideon head on. He ran on foot to meet them. Each of the three raised their swords, preparing to strike him down.
Gideon raised his own blade over his head and sent it spinning toward the rider on his left. The sword hit the hybrid square in the chest, knocking him from his mount. Gideon dodged to his left side, as the others closed in, retrieving the soldier’s sword as it tumbled to the ground from his hands. He whipped around and slung that sword at the second rider, catching the hybrid in the side.
Gideon retrieved his own sword from the chest of the first as the third rider came at him. However the soldier had second thoughts after seeing how his fellows had faired. He pulled up short, leered at Gideon and then rode hard back down the road toward Mordred’s advancing army. They wouldn’t be far behind now.
As he surveyed the damage, Gideon realized he’d come too late to save most of the villagers. Only a few could be found weeping among their fallen loved ones. He procured a fresh horse and heaved himself into the saddle. “Mordred’s army is on its way!� he called to anyone left who might listen. “In moments this place will be reduced to rubble! You must get away!�
Gideon turned his horse to the dirt road leading back into Wayland. With a kick of his heels to the animal’s sides, they broke into a gallop. At least, he might have a chance to warn the other villages which still stood between Mordred’s army and Wayland’s king.
DEADLY RAIN
Ethan had helped some of the priests to secure their ailing High Priest in a secluded chamber within the Wayland Temple. The man appeared to be nearly a hundred years old, barely skin and bones left to him. He was surprised someone had not formally replaced him, but apparently it was not the way things were done. For all his years, Isaiah still remained vital, and Ethan hoped the man would stand as his own High Priest for years to come.
He and Seth and the other Nodian Order priests had spent several hours drilling the men of Wayland’s Temple. Much improvement had been made despite their initial resistance to being told what to do by foreigners. They simply had no time left to prepare.
Levi had taken it upon himself to organize what weapons he could from their armory, passing Ethan once again with a trolley full of swords, crossbows, and gunpowder kegs. He paused long enough to giggle, saying, “Who would have thought they would have this stuff here?� He went on his way muttering about each grain of the stuff being worth far more than gold for whatever he had in store. Ethan couldn’t be sure since The Order here had no cannon to speak of. Still, Bonifast was notorious for his ingenuity if nothing else.
Ethan found Isaiah and Seth with Emory in one of the main halls of the Temple. They were arguing amongst one another, when Ethan joined them.
“Despite my agreeing with you completely, we really have no choice in the matter,� Emory said to an exasperated Isaiah. “We are bound to do the King’s will and he’s made it clear.�
“What’s going on?� Ethan asked.
“The King has requested—� Seth began.
“Demanded is more like it,� Isaiah cut in.
“—that his royal guard be assembled,� Seth said.
“What’s so bad about that?�
Isaiah barely controlled his fury. “The problem is that he’s demanding a bodyguard of one hundred of The Order’s finest warriors.� He looked at Emory, disgusted. “Apparently they are under contract, with His Majesty, to provide exactly that.�
“It’s been that way since before I even joined The Order, Master Isaiah,� Emory explained. “There’s nothing I can do about it.�
“But that’s nearly a third of the warrior-priests available here,� Ethan said.
“Yes, and they’ll all be needed desperately on the frontlines when Mordred attacks,� Isaiah said hotly.
Emory shrugged his shoulders. “I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I can do, truly.�
An hour later, Ethan watched with the others as one hundred of the Wayland Order’s priests marched in their priestly robes, outfitted with swords and bows, toward King Stephen’s palace several miles away.
“It’s a mistake, what the King is doing,� Seth said.
“It may be one of his last,� Isaiah added.
Ethan simply watched them go. He thought, probably, that one hundred men, even priests of Shaddai, would make very little difference, when considered against the size of Mordred’s forces. He wondered very much if these Wayland priests would fare well at all against the hybrid soldiers. The giant Anakims were an altogether bigger problem, to say the least. One strike from their great arms would dash half a dozen men to the ground.
> As he stood there wondering how they might possibly put up a fight against Mordred’s army, an odd shadow and then another, passed over them. Ethan turned to find something he had never seen before—never even fathomed. A Man-o-war sailing ship drifted over the Temple suspended in the air by what appeared to be great tents of sail cloth. It remained as silent as a cloud except for the occasional groaning of the wood.
Ethan stood there on the Temple balcony stunned by this odd bird, until Isaiah threw him to the ground. He noticed Seth go down as well, then he heard the great explosion nearby. A section of the roof, higher up, mushroomed out in a gout of flame heaving ceiling tiles, wood, and concrete over them in a great wave which tumbled down, landing in the courtyard below.
More explosions followed in rapid succession, deafening them as debris rained down upon them from every direction. Ethan scrambled to his feet, realizing they must flee.
“Grenades!� Seth shouted as he helped Isaiah to his feet again.
Man-o-wars filled the sky over Evelah in mere moments while their crews dropped round grenades down upon the city. The fuses streaked white smoke behind them, trailing down, down until they tumbled onto roofs and exploded. Minutes into the attack the streets were filled with people scrambling for any cover they could find from the deadly rain.
The floating Man-o-wars continued southeast across the city in a line strafing everything in their path. Buildings exploded. Many already had been leveled and more burned. The King’s soldiers patrolling the streets tried to fire crossbows back at their attackers with little effect. The ships were simply too high up.
Ethan, Isaiah and Seth ran back through the Temple. At least one of the ships had remained overhead trying to pummel Shaddai’s Wayland Temple into dust. Shockwaves rattled the entire structure as plaster and glass shot away from walls.