Protector Josef was the first to reach Captain Theodoric. He pulled his horse up close to the Captain’s and nodded.
“All citizens are safe behind locked doors, Captain.”
“Good. It did not take you as long to complete the task as I thought it would.”
Josef shook his head. “There were not many people wandering about in this rain.” He held up a hand to the pouring rain and Captain Theodoric nodded.
Once most of his warriors had returned to him, Theodoric turned his attention toward the front gates.
The darkness of night was settling in all around them and torches were now being lit so they may see in the dark. The thick, black oil they used to burn at night never faltered even in the heaviest of rains.
The front gates were large in height and width. They loomed over Theodoric’s head at an impressive height. In length, they stretched out wide enough to allow a host of fifty men riding side-by-side to travel through. And on either side stood the bulwarks; large, stone walls that rose up even higher into the sky than the portcullis. The entire length of the bulwarks encircled the city of Axendra, stopping at the edge of the forest. It was thought at the time of their construction that an army could not possibly charge through the thickness of the Forest of Shadows, so the King at that time decided not to waste the coin on protecting the city entirely. And anyone who did not wish to brave the dangers of the forest and tried to enter by climbing the wall would be met by thousands of iron daggers that had been forged into the stone. Their jagged spikes could not be seen from where Theodoric stood but he knew they were there, making it impossible for anyone to enter the city except through the gate.
But the gate itself was the problem. As Theodoric’s eyes fell upon the portcullis, he sighed in frustration. The wood itself was once thick and heavy, but after hundreds of years of decay, it looked as though a strong wind could blow it over. There were holes and rot throughout the gate and when Theodoric reached out to scrape at the wood with his fingernail a large chunk broke off into his hand.
“This gate would not keep a gust of wind out of the city! How is it supposed to stave off an entire army?” He asked to no one in particular.
It was Protector Josef who answered; “I believe we are supposed to be the gate, Captain.”
Theodoric turned to Josef and scoffed. “Some gate we are; eight hundred strong and yet, not strong enough to keep our foes at bay. All they will need to do is knock on this wood a few times and the whole bloody thing will come crumbling down at our feet. Then our eight hundred will be up against thousands!”
“What shall we do then?” Bayard asked. Theodoric looked to his friend and saw worry behind his eyes.
“If they breach the city, we will have no choice but to fall back to the castle. That will be our only chance for survival.”
Bayard nodded. “We will run and they will follow. We will lead them to their deaths.”
Suddenly, Captain Theodoric smiled. He imagined running back towards the castle with Lord Ivran and his men close behind. He imagined what Lord Ivran’s men would do when they saw the great host that waited for them there. Lord Ivran’s few thousand against Axendra’s fifteen-thousand. They will tuck tail and run like the cowards they are! The thought nearly made him laugh aloud.
“That is our plan then.” He said, turning back to Josef and Bayard. “If they break into the city, we will run. They may fight us at the castle if they so desire.”
Captain Theodoric turned away from the gate and found his horse where he had left it. He did not notice the smirk that Protector Josef shot at his turned back.
Another hour went by without any sign of the invading army. Captain Theodoric began to grow weary sitting idly atop his horse waiting for battle. He sighed and turned to his men who were hunkered down in the mud, hoods up against the heavy rain and teeth chattering in the cold of night.
He was tempted to join them, perhaps close his tired eyes for a few moments, when suddenly, one of the sentries upon the wall shouted down at him. He looked upward but could not hear what the man said over the rain. He kicked his horse into motion and led him up to the gate, finding one of the larger holes and peering through the wood.
There was a spot of light on the other side. It hung in the darkness and danced before him like a ghost in the night. Theodoric watched with some interest until more lights began to appear. Suddenly, the world on the other side of the gate was filled with torch light and he could make out the sound of horse hooves beating into the mud. He waited until Lord Ivran’s men came close enough for him to see them through the darkness before turning to Bayard and commanding him to send his messenger to the castle to warn them of their enemy’s arrival.
He watched Bayard disappear into the crowd of men gathered behind him then turned back to the gate and watched Lord Ivran’s approach. His army stopped just outside of the gate.
Captain Theodoric watched them for several moments, waiting for some sort of movement but they stayed their position.
Bayard returned to Captain Theodoric’s side and peered out another hole in the gate. “They do not advance.” He said.
“It is almost as though they are waiting for something.” Theodoric replied. Neither of them took their eyes off the enemy as they spoke. Neither of them noticed Protector Josef taking a few steps back, vanishing into the thick of his own men.
Theodoric heard the arrow before he felt it. It came rushing up from behind and struck him in his back with no warning. He cried out in pain and surprise and felt his body go limp. He slid sideways off his horse and fell into the mud below. His eyes grew wide as Bayard turned and drew his sword, but he was too late. Two arrows struck him in the chest at the same time and he fell down by Theodoric’s side, dead before he hit the ground.
Then the sound of fighting filled Theodoric’s ears. Men cried out and swords clashed together. He tried to raise his eyes to see but his vision was beginning to blur. He could not move from the pain in his back.
Bodies began to fall all around him. He recognized the faces of his men as they joined him in the mud.
The bastards have betrayed us! He tried to shout at the men from the north but he choked on his words and gasped for air instead.
The sound of creaking wood through the rain reached his ears and he turned his head slightly to see the front gate opening to let in Lord Ivran and his host. Their horses trotted into the city quick and unhindered, stepping over and on top of his murdered men. Theodoric’s eyes fell upon Lord Ivran as he led his host into Axendra. He watched the man atop his great steed as he trotted past, sending mud spiraling into the air around him. His plate armor reflected the dazzling light of the torches and his face was jubilant.
Theodoric closed his eyes for a moment and focused on regaining some strength. He pressed his hands into the mud below and began to push himself up. The pain in his back surged and made him cry out but he did not give up. He pressed himself up a little farther and opened his eyes only to find Protector Josef standing before him.
Josef smiled mockingly at Theodoric before pulling his sword from its scabbard and placing it at Theodoric’s throat. He stood motionless, staring down at his prey. Theodoric knew his final moment had come. He was not afraid; he was angry. He was angry that he had not gotten the chance to fight for his life, that he had been betrayed. And now he lay in the mud before the man who was going to murder him, completely helpless to stop it.
Josef pulled his sword back and with all his strength, swung the blade at Theodoric’s throat. Theodoric watched helplessly as the blade came swinging towards him. He tried to move but his injured body refused to cooperate. There was a sudden stinging pain, followed by a bright flash behind his eyes that blinded him. Then there was cold, cold steel against a wet flow. Then everything was dark.
Chapter 22
Protector Hanley made his way through the crowded corridor as quickly as he possibly could. He shoved his way through the men who were hurrying in the opposite direction. They were
all headed out to the castle grounds to meet with Captain Mayvard or Lord Guyon, but Hanley was trying to reach the battlements. His archers awaited him up top.
He knew the High Protector was already there. He had seen her making her way to the battlements, coming back from giving her last orders to Captain Theodoric. She passed him by without even a sideways glance and left him standing in the darkened hallway.
He had been gathering his men, commanding them to get to the battlements at once. Though most of them knew where it was they were expected to go, some of them had decided it was not urgent that they reach the top so quickly and had stopped in the dining hall for some ale. Hanley peered inside and counted them. Sixty of his archers were sitting and drinking, laughing at one another’s foolish japes. Hanley stepped inside and shouted at his men, making them all jump to their feet in surprise.
“This is how you choose to prepare for battle? Shouldn’t you men be keepin’ your wits about you?” His anger was clear on his face.
The men set aside their ales and hurried out of the dining hall, whispering apologies as they passed him by. Now all he had to do was follow the last of his men up to the top where he would join Rhada and her archers.
He wondered how many archers the army of Axendra consisted of as he walked through the crowded corridors. He knew that Bhrys had close to six-hundred, not to mention those who had joined him from Elipol. Though he was not confident in Lord Guyon’s ability to train his archers well, he was glad for the number of men he had provided. We will need all the men we can get up there.
Hanley turned down another corridor and found it to be quite empty, save for a few of his archers who had run ahead of him.
It will not matter how skilled the men from Elipol are with the bow. It will be the sword that makes the difference.
His heart began to race as his thoughts turned to the legendary sword, Bloodbinder. He thought of his own sword resting at his side. It was his father’s sword and his father’s before him; passed down through each generation with pride. But it stood little in comparison to the sword that could be his by the end of the night.
He had never seen Bloodbinder in person until that morning. The High Protector had stormed into the council meeting with the sword at her side and his eyes never left the blade as she stood before them, spouting orders that were nigh incoherent to him. He studied the scabbard, thick and heavy and wrapped in black leather. He wished the High Protector would unsheathe the blade so that his eyes may look upon it. He wanted to see the steel glisten in the firelight. He wanted to reach out and grab the blade right then. It took all his strength to keep himself at bay.
That sword will be in my hand at the end of the battle. Hanley smiled to himself as he imagined holding the blade in his hand and watching the realm bow before their new Protector.
He had one task to complete during this battle- he had promised Omylia that he would not fail her. Bloodbinder had to be his by the end of the night or their plans were all but ruined. Once he had Bloodbinder in his possession, he would turn it against his new Lord. Lord Guyon would not even know what had hit him. He could taste his victory. With Bloodbinder at his side and all the armies of the north united, Bhrys would become the new leader of the realm. King Ivran would have no choice but to bow to them. He would allow Ivran to keep his crown but it would be a false crown. Omylia would not allow him to make any decisions regarding the realm without her support. She would rule from Bhrys; Hanley was going to secure her power tonight.
He turned up a flight of stairs and then another and another until he was almost out of breath. He reached the battlements after what seemed an eternity and was greeted by a strong gust of wind that blew rain and dirt into his face. Lightning flashed above his head, making him jump. The night sky lit up all at once and for a moment, he could see the great host of men who were waiting patiently for battle.
There were at least a thousand, standing atop the battlements in perfect lines, looking out towards Axendra with anxious eyes.
Hanley stepped out into the storm and pulled his hood over his head to shield himself from the rain. He turned his eyes up and found his men. They stood upon an upper tier where Hanley had told them to go, waiting for their commander. He turned his eyes again and looked to the right and immediately spotted Rhada. She was shouting something to her men but her words were lost to him in the wind. When she turned and spotted Hanley, she began making her way towards him.
She walked with grace through the crowd of men. They stepped to the side to allow her passage without having to be commanded to do so. She passed through them like a blade through the soft flesh of its victim. When she reached Hanley, she stopped.
Hanley’s heart began to race once again. He realized that never before had he been so close to the High Protector. She was dressed in all black. The only thing that shone with a different hue was the plate guard upon her chest. Her hood covered most of her face but he could see that her long, dark hair had been pulled into a braid and draped over her shoulder. Her eyes were dark as well, as dark as the gray sky that surrounded them and they seemed to pierce right through his soul as she peered at him. She was tall too; as tall as he was, putting them at an even eye level.
“I see you have stationed your men at the upper wall.” She said with an air of annoyance.
Hanley pretended to take no notice of her tone and replied; “our archers are the best in the realm. I wanted to give them an advantage on higher ground. Their range will be much longer.” Of course, Hanley had no way of knowing if his archers were the best in the realm or not. He had never fought in battle with them. Bhrys had always prided itself on its horsemen, never its archers, but he would tell the High Protector anything to be able to keep his men where he needed them.
He could see she had not been fooled. She narrowed her eyes at him then turned her gaze to his archers. They stood aloft, prepping their bows and paying no mind to anything else around them. They had failed to form proper lines like Axendra’s archers had. They pulled on their bow strings, fiddled with their quivers and practiced nocking and pulling their arrows. Hanley turned back to Rhada’s archers and saw them standing as though they were statues, unable to move. Their backs were straight, quivers resting securely within their reach and bows held tightly at their sides, waiting for the command to attack. Hanley knew then that Axendra’s archers were far superior to his own.
He looked back to Rhada and stood up tall, ready to defend his reasoning for the upper wall, regardless of his incompetent men.
When Rhada looked back to him, she sighed in resignation and nodded. “Very well.” She said in a hushed tone. “Do not give the command to fire until I have done so.” Hanley nodded. She turned away from him and made her way back to her own warriors.
Hanley took the stairs to the upper wall and turned back towards Axendra’s archers below. He made a note of where Rhada was positioned.
She stood against the wall with her back turned to her archers, facing out towards the city. From their height, they could clearly see the city lights in the distance and Rhada seemed to be studying these. So long as she does not move from that position, I will be able to get a good, clean shot.
Time seemed to crawl by slowly upon the wall. Hanley watched with growing anticipation as what he assumed to be the sun, hiding behind the darkened sky, sank and disappeared altogether. Torches were lit upon the wall and even in the heavy rain, they burned with a brilliant brightness. The thick oil used for fuel burned slowly, allowing them at least two hours’ worth of torchlight.
He watched the armies below crawl into formation. He could pick out his warriors from Bhrys, cleverly stationing themselves so they may flank the enemy. Elipol’s men were doing the same on the other side. They have fallen right into our trap. He thought with a grin. And the foolish High Protector has placed her pawns just where we need them. Hanley would have laughed with excitement at their luck if it would not have looked suspicious.
Then a rider came racing up the roa
d towards the castle. He raced through Lord Guyon’s horsemen and disappeared from Hanley’s view. It wasn’t much longer that he emerged on the lower wall and shoved his way towards the High Protector.
Hanley watched as the messenger whispered something into her ear then turned and ran back the way he had come.
“Our enemy has breached the gates!” She shouted. Hanley could barely hear her words over the thundering rain. “Prepare for battle!”
Nervous men grasped at their bows tightly as they waited for their enemy to arrive. It did not take long before they could see Lord Ivran and his host riding up the hill towards them; their torch light emerging from the darkness. Hanley found himself smiling. And so it begins. He reached for his own bow and pulled slightly on the string to make certain it was tight. One shot is all that I will get. I cannot miss.
Lightning clashed above their heads, illuminating the approaching army below for all to see. Hanley was truly impressed with how many warriors from all over the realm Lord Ivran had been able to coax to his side. The King had been right to be fearful of the rebellion. This time the rebellion will not fail.
The thunder that followed the lightning rolled over their heads and rang in their ears. It stretched out over the land below and seemed to give Lord Ivran a warning. He stopped suddenly and his host stopped as well. They stood silent in the rain and waited. Hanley knew exactly what Lord Ivran was waiting for; he was waiting for a sign for the right moment to charge.
Then suddenly, through the sound of the thundering rain, Hanley heard Rhada’s voice calling out to her men across the battlements. He turned and strained to listen through the deafening storm.
Rhada stood before her men, tall and proud. He could see her eyes even from the distance at which he stood and they peered over her men with intent. Anyone who found themselves locked in her gaze would have been unable to look away in that moment.
Rise of Darkness (The Watchers Book 2) Page 23
