by Meg Cowley
“I did not want that same fate for you, daughter. I thought that if I raised you in the traditional way, as my parents raised me, that you would be better protected.”
“Your views nearly killed me, father,” said Eve. “Magic isn’t something you can learn, it’s in my blood and you can’t protect me from it. It’s awoken. By shielding me from it for all these years you have ensured that I am not equipped, as I should be, to manage it.” She saw her father’s eyebrows crinkle, the rest of his face still not visible.
“Neither of us has acted perfectly in this,” her father admitted. He sidled into view again. “You must return home at once; we have much to discuss.”
“I can’t come home yet – I’m needed here,” said Eve cautiously. She did not want to provoke him to anger again.
“Where is ‘here’?”
“I’m in Pandora. Much has happened since I left.” She summarised the events in the capital, including her own deployment in the healing houses as her father’s eyes widened.
“I had heard nothing of this. I assumed that Zaki had cut me off from the capital over recent weeks. I have been expecting an assault on Arrow, truth be told.”
“Soren is expecting a battle here. Can you spare any men? There are few enough who are well trained and I’m sure Soren would welcome more skilled soldiers.”
“Consider it done,” said her father. “I shall marshal my men and send as many as I can spare, on one condition.”
“Yes?” said Eve hesitantly.
“I expect that you come home to Arlyn with them once the capital has been secured.”
After a pause, Eve agreed.
“I shall tolerate no more disobedience on this matter,” warned her father. “Do not test me further.”
Eve did not reply to that. After exchanging awkward pleasantries, she called an end to their meeting, feigning that she was required elsewhere. Her father’s troubled face faded from the mirror until it reflected her own face. She sat staring at herself for some minutes, before packing away the mirror and writing a message to Soren to notify him of Karn’s assistance. Agitated, she returned to the healing houses. It was late, but she needed the distraction.
Karn’s forces arrived days later and Soren gratefully received the five hundred extra men into his ranks. Eve was glad to see that her father was not present; he had sent his deputy to command his men.
The captain greeted her with a show of deference but after the formality was done with, he sought immediate council with Soren, bypassing her authority. She was relieved not to have to manage them in matters of war, of which she knew nothing.
That afternoon, Behan’s scouts also arrived, exhausted and declared Zaki to be less than a day’s ride behind them. The city sprung into action as the news spread like wildfire and Soren ordered all forces to be ready and marshaled.
The city glowed that night; every inch of it lit by thousands of lanterns as men and women toiled to ensure all fortifications were completed in time and in working order. Had the city folk been able to see Pandora from afar, they would have been able to see it in its greatest glory; a city glowing gold and amber in the night.
Soren
Soren rose early after a sleepless night. Knowing that Zaki approached filled him with nervous energy. He could not eat, drink or rest and took to pacing around his apartment, relentlessly reviewing and rehearsing the strategies, though he could not improve upon them.
Day dawned cloudy and stiflingly warm: not ideal conditions. Such weather would hamper both sides and cause more injuries than were necessary due to exhaustion and heatstroke. Soren hoped that there would be no need to fight, but he knew that Zaki would not surrender.
Soren had visited Demara daily without fail since the taking of the castle; to quite what end he was not sure himself. Nevertheless, he deemed it a priority to try and understand her motives and provoke her to share any knowledge of her father’s or Zaki’s strategies, as any information she divulged could aid him.
Despite his attempts, she remained uncooperative and denied any knowledge of her father of husband’s plans. Soren did not know whether to believe her or not. She appeared to be an innocent and delicate woman; a pawn of the men in her life. Nevertheless, the prince knew he could not trust a woman with such dangerous connections, however harmless she seemed.
Impatient after the early visit, he abandoned the castle to ride out in the city, to check and double-check the defences with Edmund and a small company of guards who rode around the city with him. Finally, he was sure he could prepare no more and climbed up to the watch post on the south gate to join the surprised guards in their vigil and watch for the coming of his enemy.
The first sign of Zaki’s approach was a small dust cloud far to the south; the dried, powdery earth shook loose by his passage. Soren’s heart leapt in his chest and nervous energy coursed through him. Soren sent runners to every corner of the city to rouse and mass his forces.
As the group of men drew nearer, it solidified into a dark band on the horizon and grew larger by the hour, until in plain sight a vast force of riders galloped towards them in a wide line with their armour flashing in the sun. Soren watched them approach with the guards on the wall.
When they were a mile away, the sound of a grand, trumpeting tune floated towards them. The sound was strange and haunting, a southern instrument he presumed. Soren signalled for his men to blow the horns in response as normal; he wanted Zaki to think he was riding triumphantly home until the last possible moment, so that he was within range to take alive or dead if possible. One horn rang out, and then another, until they sounded from every gate.
Zaki’s forces led the group of men and also brought up their rear in their silver armour, whilst the men of Roher sandwiched between, armoured in golden metal that shone, even in the cloudy weather that morning. Before the bulk of the forces rode two figures, whom Soren deduced would be Zaki himself and King Harad.
They were almost close enough for Soren to make out faces under helmets and hands on reins when two standard-bearers and a herald came forward, raising their standards. One showed Zaki’s coat of arms, which had fluttered on flags around Pandora until Soren had had every single one ripped down and burnt. The other bore the coat of arms of King Harad; a rampant red lion and rose on a golden field, which Soren recognised from the wedding of Zaki and Demara two years previously.
The herald charged forward and blew his horn with all his might. “Open the gates!”
Soren gave the signal he had so long been waiting for in response, with a smile. He stood to look over the south gate crenellations at Zaki and Harad, who were slowing to a trot two hundred yards away.
At Soren’s command, giant flags were raised and allowed to unfurl in the slight breeze to reveal his mother’s coat of arms, which he had adopted as his own. The herald stopped dead at the sight of the billowing flags, before turning his mount and charging back to Zaki and Harad.
Silence fell. Not a man spoke on the wall, and no murmur arose from the forces massed so close to the city. All stood to attention and it seemed every man held his breath. Soren too waited in silence as the herald turned once more to return within shooting distance of the gates.
“His Majesty King Zaki commands the gate to open and for all non-authorised standards to be cast down at once!” the man called authoritatively.
“I reject his command, for he holds no authority here!” Soren called back.
“Who are you to speak so?” the herald replied pompously.
“I name myself Prince Soren, son of Queen Naisa and rightful heir to the kingdom of Caledan. I call for Zaki, the false pretender to the throne, who I name murderer, treasonous usurper and kidnapper, to surrender himself to trial by a jury of the people to attest for his crimes.
“The city and its people stand with me in this and you cannot hope to succeed against us. To King Harad, who I know not to be innocent in relation to these matters, I bid him take the most sensible course of action and retreat
peacefully beyond our borders to his own kingdom.”
“You dog!” shrieked Zaki. “Seize him, I command you! I will double the reward for his capture!”
Not a man on the wall moved. Soren released his pent up breath in relief. Zaki sunk into his saddle as it dawned on him that he had lost the city.
“If you will not surrender him to me you shall all burn!” With that, he turned his horse away, shouting indistinct orders to his men. A large group broke off riding east and north around the city whilst Zaki rode himself with the main bulk of his men west towards the city without and the docks.
His intentions soon became very clear; fires sprung up in the hamlets and farms surrounding the city and the sound of fighting and screaming came from the docks as Soren’s men poured out from the dock gate to meet him. He made to join them, but King Harad’s herald called to him from before the gate.
“My master bids thee open the gates and speak with him under the banner of parley,” cried the herald.
“How can I know his intentions to be honourable?” Soren called back.
“He will approach alone if you will do the same. Come and speak to him before the gates, where you are still within the safety of the city if you will.”
Intrigued, Soren made his way to the gates. His men opened them with reluctance and crowded there with weapons drawn, should he need them. King Harad ordered his men to retreat a little further, whilst he himself advanced into the shadow of the walls, dismounting his horse and accompanied by the herald, who quickly took his reins.
Soren strode out to meet him, presenting as confident an exterior as he could, mindful of the danger he was placing himself in and relieved to have hundreds of men covering him from the city. He found himself wishing for Edmund’s reassuring presence; but Edmund covered the defences of the southwest of the city, far from his side.
Soren and the king greeted each other cautiously and coolly. Soren waited for Harad to begin, and observed what he could as Harad passed his feather-plumed helmet to his herald. Harad stood tall and proud, a little shorter than Soren and on the decline into the corpulence of middle age, although his physique was stocky and his armour had been shaped to complement and enhance his form.
He had thick black hair, greying at the temples and a dark, trimmed beard, flecked with greying hairs. Patterns too detailed for Soren to pick out weaved across his armour, recording untold hours of careful tooling. He must have been sweltering in the humidity, stifled by his ceremonial dress, but he betrayed no sign of discomfort.
“My daughter is in the citadel, yes?” Harad asked in a rich, deep voice. He glared at Soren with dark, inscrutable eyes under bushy eyebrows.
“Yes.”
“Is she well, and being treated as befits her rank and current health?”
“She is well and I treat her with the greatest privilege.”
“I am gladdened to hear this. Now that her husband and I are now here, will you release her into our care? It would be fitting of course given the delicate nature of her condition,” Harad smiled at Soren, seeming sincere, but his eyes were sharp.
“She is my prisoner,” said Soren flatly. “I will not relinquish her for any reward. I hope that her continued stay with me will ensure your good conduct.”
Harad’s mask faltered then with his surprise, before he returned to an impassive expression. “I have many daughters and sons,” said Harad. “What makes you think that I would value the life of one enough to cause me to retreat like a coward?”
“I would hope that you would not be so callous to your own kin,” replied Soren, “though I know that such things happen. However, given that she carries within her a babe that under my rule would be third in line to the throne of Caledan after my sister and uncle, I doubt that you would throw such a thing away.”
“It seems that I underestimate you.” Harad bowed his head to Soren. The gesture felt insincere and mocking, which riled Soren.
“You do,” Soren replied. He immediately regretted his words and took a breath to calm himself.
“You are however correct,” conceded the king. “Consider my forces neutral to you for the time being. I will cause you no harm if none is brought to my daughter or her unborn son. I will make you an offer you think worthy of consideration. If you release my daughter to me unharmed and a free woman, I will give you Zaki in chains to do with as you will and leave your land.”
Soren’s eyes widened in surprise. Here was a development he had not expected. “Why should I strike this deal with you?” he asked slowly. “I can crush Zaki myself without your help.” The sound of fighting came from the docks, where smoke rose from many fires.
“You may, young prince, but the cost in the lives of your own men would be a great price to pay and I will be forced to react hostilely if you refuse to release my daughter. I do not think you could hope to defeat my entire army in your present state.” The king smiled, satisfied with his position.
“If I am to agree to this, you will sign a treaty swearing never to invade my kingdom.”
“I will do no such thing,” refused Harad. “A life for a life is a fair trade.”
“Technically I am to trade you two lives for that of my uncle.”
Harad shrugged. “The life of the babe is not guaranteed. Childbirth is a dangerous undertaking, thus it should not be used as a bargaining chip. That is my offer. Take or leave it as you wish.”
Soren paused and did not reply, struggling with his conscience.
“The clock ticks,” murmured the king insipidly. “Every moment you dally a man dies.”
“I consent to the terms you have laid out,” agreed Soren. He sensed he had little other choice. He could see but two options laid before him; he could crush Zaki himself to then be faced with Harad’s might, or take Zaki with much less bloodshed and begin immediate preparations for the fortification of Caledan in the hope that he could repel Harad. In either case, he was sure that Harad would want to make a claim for Caledan’s throne.
Harad smiled at Soren’s answer, looking self-satisfied.
“It shall be done. Meet me at sunset at the gates with my daughter; you shall have Zaki then,” said Harad.
By the time Soren returned to the city, news reached him of Zaki’s outnumbered forces being routed by his own. Behan had swept out of the east gate and decimated the men who were attempting to destroy the outlying lands, whilst Edmund and the main concentration of Soren’s army were busy defending the most vulnerable area of the city by the docks. Soren gave orders for Zaki’s forces to be allowed to flee and efforts concentrated on putting out the fires in the city outside the walls to save as much as possible of the area.
Harad’s forces pulled well back from the wall and dallied almost at the spot where Soren had held his own camp. As Zaki rode out to meet them with what few men were left in his forces who were fit to ride, Soren knew that Zaki would be furious that Harad had not joined him. He did not know how Harad would take custody of his uncle – nor was he sure about trusting the Roherii king – but he suspected foul play would be involved.
In the ceasefire, Soren reunited with Behan and Edmund who brought their reports of the fighting. Losses had been significant, as had injuries, but not enough to cripple Soren’s chances of success if the fighting continued, given the numbers they were up against. Soren admitted the deal he had struck with Harad. Behan was surprised, Edmund annoyed that he had done so without consultation.
“I know the stakes, Edmund!” Soren replied to Edmund’s curt comments. “I’m not a child. I have made the best with what I have; I would rather have Zaki in my custody and Harad’s army at my door in the future, than not have him and have Harad’s army at my door today!”
Edmund acquiesced; deferring to him in a way that Soren had not seen before. He realised that his mentor, friend and ally would always be forced to defer to him. It saddened Soren, who knew the cost could be their friendship. He could have offered a concession to Edmund then, to soften the blow, but he could
not think what to say.
Zaki
The horse squealed and sprung forward as Zaki dug his spurs into its flanks. He gave a great howl of anger and screamed for his men to follow him. To his surprise, the city without was deserted and the west gate closed and barred.
Buildings were burning before long as he charged through the empty streets, smashing windows and taking pleasure in destroying everything he could reach to vent his frustration at being outwitted.
Through the smoke he rode, straight into a line of pikes. The men in front of him screamed as their dying horses collapsed under them. Men darted forward from behind the pikes to cut them down. Zaki retreated as his men continued to pass him, battle cries in their throats as they met their foe.
The air cleared. Stood tall in stirrups under the gate he saw Sir Edmund, grim faced and shouting commands. An inhuman growl rose in his throat as he charged forward, but a horse drew beside him and forced him to a halt.
“Sir, stop! Stop, sir!” Reynard called, as Edmund met Zaki’s gaze, distracted by the call. “We lose the fight badly, sir, we must fall back!”
“I will do no such thing!” replied Zaki, his eyes still locked upon Edmund’s. “We cannot be losing – our numbers must be greater!” He broke eye contact with Edmund and realised the armour about him was all silver. “Where is Harad?” he demanded.
“He did not come,” Reynard admitted. He refused to release Zaki’s reins. “We must fall back, sir!” he repeated in desperation. “We will be overcome without Harad’s men.”
Zaki twisted away. Edmund had vanished. The tide of battle was turning as his men were pressed back step by step from the gates. “Sound the retreat.” He cursed Harad.
