by Duncan Lay
‘Lead the way,’ Merren told Sacrax, who grinned and waved to his warriors.
The Derthals flowed through the city silently, padding along on bare feet, the only sign of their passing the mud from the river that had caked their legs.
Merren, Martil, Barrett, Milly and Kesbury were much slower, their trousers waterlogged, water and mud dripping and squelching into the boots they had replaced once back on dry land. But nobody came out, no dogs barked and no lights went on in the endless houses they sneaked past.
‘They do what they’re told here,’ Martil murmured.
‘Or the word of what we are trying to do has gone around,’ Merren whispered back.
None of them knew the way, but that did not seem to be a problem. All streets led to the giant pyramid that obviously dominated Tenoch life the way it dominated the skyline.
Kettering ordered his men into the river.
‘I thought you said there were snakes in here that could bite your manhood off!’ Leigh complained.
‘Don’t worry. They’re not interested in river worms.’ Hawke grinned.
Kettering stared at them, and they shrugged sheepishly. In truth, Kettering did not mind their foolishness too much. It helped distract the other men from what they were about to do.
‘Come on,’ he ordered, leading them down the bank and into the river.
The flow pushed against them, the water reaching to their waists and the river bottom was slick with mud, so that men kept slipping over.
‘Form chains! Hold your mates!’ Kettering ordered. ‘If you go under, don’t make a sound. You get us all killed and I’ll see you dead!
‘And don’t think about what you’re walking over,’ Hawke added. To every man, whose toes were squelching deep into Aroaril-knew-what, that was the comment they remembered.
The archway, with its hooked spikes, festooned with the filth of an entire city, loomed above them, stinking and dripping loathsome liquid on the men as they squeezed below. But they were able to slip underneath and into the city.
‘How in Aroaril’s name do we get up?’ Leigh murmured, as they stared up the bank.
Here, the Tenochs had strengthened the riverbank with stone—but made it sheer, so as not to impede the flow of the water. It reared high above them. Men fought to stay on their feet, hung onto each other as the water pushed against them and the river bottom gave no purchase even to bare feet.
Kettering looked around desperately. ‘There!’ he exclaimed. ‘Quick now!’
One single stairway had been cut into the bank, to give access to the water.
The men tried to force their way over there but one file went down, men clutching each other and cursing.
‘Grab them!’ Kettering urged.
But one man was swept past them and into the spikes. He cried out as he crashed against them and was swept downstream.
‘What was that?’ a strange voice challenged.
‘Up those stairs! Now!’ Kettering waved.
Dunner finished off the last gate guard then signalled wordlessly at the gate mechanism.
A score of willing hands began to turn it, the gates creaking and groaning as they opened inwards. Shouts of alarm echoed down from the wall, and men peered over the edge, shouting down questions.
Dunner waved cheerfully back at them and it took them precious moments to realise the men below were not Tenochs but the barbarians from across the sea. The Tenochs rushed down the stairs, where Dunner and his best swordsmen met them. The Rallorans had no shields or armour but they were all veterans of a score of battles. The Tenoch warriors were used to fighting against unarmed men and swaggering around the city—they were cut down as they threw themselves at the Rallorans.
Meanwhile the gates inched open, and a bellow from outside told Dunner that Nerrin and the rest of the Rallorans were coming through the gates.
The remaining Tenochs realised the same thing, because they started shouting at each other to run—and then Dunner was not being attacked any more, he was watching men run away from him. He sheathed his sword, breathing hard, a score of bodies on the stairs before him.
‘Help your wounded mates,’ he told the men with him, then went to find Nerrin.
These gates were theirs. The defenders were running away along the walls in both directions. He ignored them as Nerrin waved him over.
‘I’ll leave you two companies. Hold the gates,’ he instructed.
They paused for a moment, as horns sounded distantly across the city.
‘Make that one company. If we haven’t taken the other gate, the Captain will need a way out of here. I’ll go and help him,’ Nerrin decided, then shouted to the rest of the men. ‘To the Temple!’
‘What is going on?’ Sendric asked nervously.
There was shouting and horn calls up on the walls, while torches were being thrown down before the gate. It looked like an ant’s nest that had been prodded with a stick.
‘Ryder! Two of our best men to call back Kettering and his force!’ Kay shouted. ‘If they don’t get out now, they’ll be slaughtered. Without surprise, they don’t stand a chance.’
Sendric waved his arms. ‘Hold that order!’
‘Your grace?’ Kay turned.
‘Lives do not matter. We have to get inside that city and get to that Egg, Captain! If we fail to take this gate, Queen Merren, the Derthals and Rallorans could be cut off inside the city. We have to get in there, no matter the cost.’
Kay hesitated for a moment, then nodded.
‘Take your bowmen and land every arrow you have on that battlement. I will lead the rest of the men and act as a decoy—they do not have enough men to stop Kettering if they have us to worry about.’
Kay saw his point, knew there was no time for discussion, so waved his men forwards.
‘Bowmen! I don’t want any bastard alive on those ramparts! Draw and loose!’ he shouted.
Sendric drew his sword, with some difficulty because the wound he had taken at the Battle of Sendric still pained him, then faced the rest of the soldiers.
‘Norstalines! For your Queen! For your country! For your families! Follow me!’ he bellowed.
With a huge roar, they followed him at the run towards the gates, which were still shut tight, and were lit by a score of torches and straw bundles the defenders had thrown over the wall.
Martil and Sacrax left the others in the shadow of houses and went to look at the Temple. It sat in the open, surrounded by a square that looked large enough to hold most of the population of Tenoch.
‘We’ll be easier to see than a black bear on a snow-covered field,’ Sacrax grunted.
‘They won’t expect us,’ Martil said automatically, trying to see the best way in. ‘Looks like the main entrance is at the back, behind that wall. Or we can go up the top. There must be a way in there, some hidden entrance the Fearpriests use to drag the sacrifices out. They wouldn’t climb up it themselves.’
‘Covered in blood. Not a good way, that,’ Sacrax grumbled.
‘Still, that’s the way. I need ten of your best warriors, your picked guard, to follow me up there. You assault the main gate, keep them occupied. I’ll meet you in the middle.’
‘Thought we would fight together again?’ Sacrax muttered.
Martil glanced up at the sky. It was still dark but he guessed dawn was not far away.
‘No time,’ he said shortly. ‘Let’s get the others.’
As he had predicted, they were able to creep across the open square without any sign or sound of alarm. The city slumbered around them and, while the pyramid was bathed in light, it was concentrated around its gate and wall.
And then the horns sounded.
Kettering led the way up the stairs, his boots flapping around his neck, bare feet slipping on the moss-covered stones. But his sword was in his hand and anger was in his heart.
The startled guard, who had raised the alarm, only had a glimpse of a noisome, foul creature coming out of the river with bright steel in it
s hand and teeth bared before Kettering’s blade slashed home and blood spurted high. But his dying scream was drowned by warning horns, as well as shouts and cries.
‘The barbarians are inside! The demons are loose in the city!’ someone screamed.
The ordinary Tenochs on the walls immediately began running along the walls, seeking only escape but Tenoch warriors raced down the stairs and towards where Kettering and only a handful of his men had made it up out of the river.
‘Follow me! We must reach that gate or we all die!’ Kettering shouted, just before the Tenoch guards reached him.
The two sides met with a crash, Kettering shoulder-charging one man down and slashing out at another pair, driving them back with vicious cuts of his sword. But there were two score of the Tenochs and only a handful of his men. More Tenochs were appearing from where they had been sleeping or resting and joining the battle at a much faster rate than Kettering’s men were making it up the stairway.
Snarling and spitting hatred, Kettering tried to drive them back but even the size and strength of Hawke was useless against the number facing them. They were only able to hold a patch of ground at the head of the stairway, with no way for more men to get up.
Then shouts and screams from the battlement above the gates was followed by more horn calls.
‘They are attacking the gate! Everyone to the walls!’ someone yelled into the night.
Instantly the Tenoch reinforcements turned and raced to the walls. Still, the dozen or so left poked spears at Kettering and Hawke, who teetered on the edge of the stairway. Once they were down, there was no way back up, Kettering saw in an instant. And there was no normal way of beating them.
‘Throw me!’ he roared at Hawke, holding out his hand.
The big man hesitated for a moment, then saw the look in Kettering’s eyes. He grabbed Kettering and hurled him like a missile, his body smashing into the Tenochs and knocking them backwards. Instantly the pressure was gone and a rush of Norstalines could finally get up the stairway to finish off the fallen Tenochs.
Meanwhile Hawke and Leigh fell to their knees beside Kettering, who lay on his side with a spear jutting out of his chest and another in his leg.
‘Killer! Why?’ Leigh moaned.
Kettering glared at them, blood on his face. ‘Because I won’t lose! Now get those gates!’
‘Come on.’ Hawke grabbed Leigh by the shoulder and hauled him to his feet.
‘The gate!’ Leigh pointed, and led the men across the cobbles to the unattended opening mechanism.
Sendric could see men dying to his left and right, but he seemed to have a charmed life. Spears and rocks were falling from above—but not as many as he had feared. The arrows Kay and his bowmen were landing on the wall above made it unsafe for a defender to show himself for more than a few heartbeats.
‘Count! You need to get under shelter!’ Kay yelled at him.
‘No, Captain, I am doing more for our men now,’ Sendric replied calmly.
He stayed out in the open, darting from side to side, trying to distract the defenders as the men sought the dubious safety of the base of the wall. But here they were still a target. Sendric looked around for something else that would occupy the defenders—and his gaze fell on the Magicians’ Guild.
‘Come on! Help cause a diversion!’ Sendric waved at the assorted mages.
‘Doesn’t he know we don’t have any magic?’ Fernal muttered. ‘We should stay here, in safety.’
‘We cannot. Now is the time for courage,’ Tiera declared. ‘Follow me!’
The wizards still held back. Without magic, they felt naked. But when she rushed forwards, they followed.
Sendric saw the wizards racing forwards in a tight group and swore. It was too tempting—they should have split up. Sure enough, the defenders switched their attention to this new target, although that at least gave the soldiers at the base of the wall some respite.
‘Get back!’ He waved at them, but it was too late. Spears landed among the mages and he saw their leader fall.
‘Gello! I’m coming for you!’ he shouted up into the night angrily.
‘What is going on?’ Brother Horna shouted, stalking through the corridors.
‘That is the alarm, High One.’ An officer bowed hastily. ‘The barbarians and demons from Aroaril are inside the city!’
Horna hesitated. Fear had ruled this city for centuries but, without an army or magic power from Zorva, he had nothing to back that up.
‘Take every guard, every trainee and acolyte we have to the gate below—leave me just four to bring the girl to the altar instead.’
‘At once, High One!’
Horna watched him go, before summoning the rest of the Council. Normally only one or two would be required for this ceremony, as well as a dozen guards to secure the sacrifices. But these were not ordinary times. He wanted all of the Council, bar Onzalez and the Norstaline oaf, to be there when he put the child to the knife. If Zorva did not give them answers, and power, after such an important life, then he did not know what would.
Gello was woken by the horns, a moment before Prent shook him awake.
‘They’ve got men inside, and they’re attacking the gate!’ he gibbered.
‘Get a grip, man!’ Gello cuffed him over the head, hard, and walked over to the battlement. It took him but a moment to assess the situation. The band inside the city was a concern but the Tenochs were driving them back and finishing them off. Only a couple were still in sight and surely they could not last long. Meanwhile there were hundreds of men streaming forwards to attack the walls. He needed to show his worth to the various Fearpriests watching and the best way to do that was to throw this frontal attack back in disarray. But he had too few defenders on the wall—and many of them were cowering from the arrows. He needed more men.
‘They are attacking the gate! Everyone to the walls!’ he bellowed.
The rush of men that answered his call made him smile. Now to kill some of Merren’s men. He gazed down and recognised Sendric running around outside the gate. A good place to begin.
‘Kill that man!’ Gello cried, pointing at Sendric.
The Tenochs tried to obey him but many died as arrows clattered onto the stone battlement.
Gello ignored the screams of his casualties. He wanted to see Sendric die.
Kettering’s ragged band seemed to be ignored with all the noise and death going on outside, and atop, the wall. None had a chance to put on trousers or boots, so they ran barefoot across the cobbles, legs stained with water and worse. The few Tenochs in their way were cut down, then they made it to the gate mechanism. Hawke, Leigh and several others strained at the huge winches, hauling open the gate as the others formed a protective circle around them.
‘Sire! Below!’ Prent almost screamed.
Gello turned back from the wall, where he had been supervising the efforts to kill Sendric and cursing the incompetents who were failing him—to see the gates being opened by a pack of muddy, filthy Norstalines.
‘What? I gave orders to finish them off!’ he gasped. Prent just stared at him, so he drew his sword. His mother had always said, if you wanted something done properly, you needed to do it yourself. And Mother was always right. ‘To the gates!’ he yelled. He had held back his best men, the Norstalines and Berellians, from the battlements for just such a moment. Now they charged down with him.
Leigh left Hawke to get the gate open and braced the men for Gello’s charge. If Gello could get to the gate winches and shut the gates before Kay’s men were inside, all the sacrifices made until now would be for nothing.
But as Gello raced over, a lone man ran through the opening gates.
‘Gelloooo!’ Sendric howled as he hurled himself at the man. He aimed a massive blow at Gello’s head.
Gello was forced to duck and block, turn aside from the gate winches. He saw it was Sendric and the two of them exchanged several blows, Gello’s men forming a half-circle around the duelling pair, losing all thei
r momentum—until Gello hacked out, his blade shearing into the old noble’s chest.
Sendric collapsed and Gello grinned wolfishly—then looked up.
The gates were now open, and a horde of Norstalines was racing through the gap.
Gello turned and ran, Prent half a pace behind him.
The Berellians and renegade Norstalines who had followed him hesitated before Kay and his men hit them from one side, Hawke and Leigh from the other. For a moment all was chaos as men hacked and slashed at each other but there were more Norstalines in blue pouring through the gates every moment. Not one of Gello’s Norstalines or Berellians survived. Of the other gate defenders, some tried to run, and many of these were cut down, while most just threw down their weapons and then themselves, begging for mercy.
‘The gates are ours!’ Kay shouted, and the Norstalines cheered themselves.
‘Where is Kettering?’ Kay looked around.
‘He sacrificed himself to let us get to the gates,’ Leigh said sadly. Even as he spoke, Kettering was being carried over, the spears still sticking out of him. Kay was astonished to see many of the hardened criminals were in tears.
‘Look after him, and the Count,’ Kay said shakily. ‘Hold the gates for us.’ Then he led a mixed force of bowmen and infantry off into the dark.
‘Leigh!’ Kettering coughed.
‘Don’t talk, man. Just hold on. The magic will be back soon, and they’ll heal you,’ Hawke said urgently.
Kettering shook his head. ‘I think it is too late for me.’
‘Rubbish, man! You need to think about what you’ll do when you get back to Norstalos! Use your anger to keep yourself alive!’
Kettering smiled. ‘You make a better criminal than liar. Anyway, my anger is gone. That’s a blessing in itself.’ He coughed up blood then, which Leigh wiped away carefully. ‘If I did make it back, I’d look up Mabel, the woman I let through the lines,’ he said softly.
