Equilibrium: Episode 5

by CS Sealey

  As Rasmus felt despair rising, he glanced at the men standing by his side, jostling for space. They were determined to show the Spirits – or even themselves – that they could die honorably. Rasmus could not have asked for more. True, he had possessed bigger plans for his future, but none of them mattered now. His brother was in the throng somewhere and Angora was flying above them. If he were to die with them close and with Ayon blood on his sword, he would be content.

  There was a loud crack as a shield splintered next to him and fragments flew in all directions. One hit Rasmus in the face and he felt it sink into the flesh of his cheek. With a cry, he nursed his wound with his sword hand and raised his shield with the other to fend off any incoming attacks. He surged forward, using his shield as a ram, and lashed out to either side wildly, cutting down each man who wore the Ayon crimson. He fleetingly saw Anathris blazing to his right but then it was gone again in the madness of the battle.

  There was a blinding flash of light and a great wall of fire slashed across the battlefield toward him. With a terrified yell, Rasmus threw himself aside as a roaring channel of flames scored its way through the Ayon ranks.

  *

  Tiderius had lost all sense of direction and his limbs no longer felt the fatigue he knew consumed them, but his heart leaped as he smelled magic – not his own, not Angora’s – and he glanced around for Emil. With arms above his head, Emil Latrett turned his eyes skyward and called the power of nature to his command. A burst of flame sweeping across the battlefield almost caught him unawares, but a second later, a great crackle of thunder boomed in the clouds overhead, signaling the arrival of a very unnatural storm. The shaman struck, propelling the bolts through the air, carving up the Ayon lines. Tiderius could not see Kayte but the flashes of light flying over his head and exploding among the Ayon soldiers told him she was here somewhere. But there was something else also, a strange chill in the air where, only moments before, it had been growing warm with the coming of dawn.

  A dreadful silence descended upon the battlefield. Tiderius looked around, confused, and others did likewise, disconcerted that they could hear nothing. The wall of fire Emil had conjured moments before was sucked into the air and smothered by a great blackness that seeped forth from deep within the Ayon army. The fighting had calmed and the Ayon soldiers appeared to be withdrawing. They knew their general was approaching.

  “Retreat!” Tiderius heard Cassios shout at the top of his lungs. “Retreat!”

  There was a great surge of movement and, line by line, the Ronnesians and Tareks turned east again. As they did so, a blaze of light hurtled across the plain from Kayte’s palm and plummeted into the Ayon ranks. Soldiers were thrown into the air, some with surcoats flickering with white flame. All the while, the dark mist was thickening and the bursts of magic from both Emil and Kayte were becoming more frequent. They knew what and who was coming.

  “Tiderius!”

  He wheeled around and found Rasmus staggering toward him, blood covering half his face and neck, his clothes blackened but eyes bright.

  “They’re here!” he cried, laughing with relief. “Gods, they couldn’t have come sooner, could they?”

  “I wish they had,” Tiderius said. “The retreat has been called, gather as many stragglers as you can.”

  “Already done. You’re the last! Wait – look!”

  The Ayons at the front line were parting. Through the narrow passage they had created came Lord General Archis Varren himself, shrouded in his terrible blackness. The sorcerer moved to the head of his army, his eyes flickering with white fire and his body issuing ripples of dark mist. Tiderius heard Rasmus gasp and felt his own legs grow weak. He withdrew the magic of Anathris to make himself a less obvious target.

  “Run!” he bellowed, but Rasmus did not need to be told – his brother had never faced the sorcerer before but Tiderius had recounted enough stories to convince him that being courageous was to no avail. Without magical defenses, no man could hope to stand up to him in battle.

  “Emil! It’s Varren!” Tiderius shouted as he approached the shaman with the last of the fleeing infantrymen.

  “Where’s Angora?”

  Tiderius pointed to where two giant birds of prey continued to circle.

  “Fall back with the troops,” Emil said. “Kayte and I can hold him off until you reach the city, then we will retreat.”

  “Right,” Tiderius said. Taking in several deep breaths, he urged his legs into yet another run.

  *

  “Your Highness?”

  Rasmus grasped the reins of Prince Korrosus’s horse and brought it to a halt. Its rider was having trouble keeping in the saddle; an arrow shaft was protruding from his thigh and a dark stain was spreading across his leg. Strong and determined though he was, the Tarek would not be able to ignore his wound for much longer.

  “Sir!” Rasmus cried, shaking the man’s leg. “Prince Korrosus?”

  The man lowered his eyes to meet Rasmus’s but they were unfocused and full of pain. Rasmus glanced around quickly and found very few men who looked fit enough to help.

  “Captain Auran,” the prince murmured. “Are we close to the city yet?”

  “Gods,” Rasmus muttered. The prince had already lost a lot of blood and most of the color had gone from his face. “With your permission, Your Highness…” He leaped up onto the back of the prince’s horse, making sure not to knock the arrow. Wrapping an arm around the man’s middle, he snatched up the reins in his spare hand and, with a flick, kept the horse going at a steady trot. It was hard to keep the prince in his saddle and he had to switch arms often.

  “Auran, I cannot feel my legs,” Prince Korrosus whispered.

  “You’re not the only one,” Rasmus said and attempted to chuckle. “Been running for three weeks straight. When I find that horse of mine…!”

  “What’s happening?”

  “Don’t worry about that. Right now, my only concern is keeping you on your horse and getting you safely to Te’Roek.”

  “I saw a great white light…I thought it was the end.”

  “Emil and Kayte have come,” Rasmus explained, and craned his neck to see the plain that lay behind. “Varren is here too. I can’t see anything but flashes back on the road. But while they distract him, we have a greater chance of reaching the city.”

  It took them another hour to reach Te’Roek and a great horn blasted from the West Gate as they approached. The sentries posted above the great heavy gates pointed and shouted and more horns were blasted across the city. Windows and doors were flung open and people staggered out into the street with candles and lanterns.

  “Open the gate! Gods, open the gate!”

  The infantry and cavalry hurried onward. As they drew closer, the West Gate began to creak open and hearts lifted. The Ayon army behind them seemed days away. Those who had been struggling seemed to find a second wind, the promise of sanctuary finally ahead. Once the retreating allies were all safely inside, the large gates were closed and barred once more.

  Some men dropped onto the well-trodden soil and thanked the Spirits for their safe return, while others merely collapsed in exhaustion. Captain Rasmus did neither. He slipped from Prince Korrusus’s horse swiftly and carefully pulled the moaning Tarek down into his arms.

  “Healer!” he shouted as loud as he could. “I need healers! Prince Korrosus has been wounded!”

  The arrow was causing the man a great deal of pain, judging by his expression. Rasmus had no idea how long the prince had been wounded but guessed that he had been slowly losing blood for a few hours. Korrosus was barely conscious now and, as the men from both Ronnesian and Tarek forces helped him along the street to the nearest military barracks, the prince uttered only a halfhearted groan of pain.

  Rasmus led the way, ordering curious and anxious citizens out of the way. When they reached the lower city barracks, Rasmus summoned a pair of healers from among those assembled. He returned to the prince’s side just as his men were lowering
him onto a pallet in one of the operating rooms.

  “Captain,” the prince said in little more than a whisper. “Captain Auran…”

  “I am here, Your Highness,” Rasmus said, reaching for the man’s hand and clasping it tightly in both his own. “We’ve made it back to Te’Roek.”

  “Thank the Spirits,” Korrosus said, though he did not appear overly joyous. “We have a small chance.”

  CHAPTER 56

  The Ayons appeared on the horizon, first as a cloud of dust rising from the plain and then as a seemingly endless body of men marching steadily, drawing ever closer. As they approached, they began to form ranks, a lone figure walking at their head in a billowing cloak. The men inside the walls of Te’Roek felt their hearts sink as the well-trained Ayon battalions halted to allow the rearmost units to catch up. Forty thousand was enough to surround the city and mount a successful blockade.

  Emil hurried up the last few steps of the West Gate guard tower and emerged onto the battlements. He surveyed the number of Ayons carefully, focusing on their leader, none other than Varren himself. They were a great force, certainly, but Emil knew that, if need be, he could reduce their numbers significantly by calling the very powers of the earth into his hands to kill, distract or simply break apart the enemy lines. However, doing so would weaken and expose himself to an answering attack; being weak and spent from the overuse of magic anywhere near Varren would be suicide.

  He heard footsteps approaching on the parapets and turned. General Kaster hurried over to Emil, grim-faced, his forehead dotted with sweat.

  “Not afraid of this lot, are you?” the shaman asked, a trace of mockery in his voice. “You have enough men to fight them off without my help. With the Home Guard and the surviving border forces who just came in, as well as our citizen army, we have twenty thousand. We can hold out for months against them, so long as the gates hold.”

  The general glanced at Emil before returning his eyes to the army mobilizing on the plain below. “Look to the river, Master Latrett, then tell me that we will last a single week!”

  Emil regarded the general with confusion, then hurried along the battlements, pushing through the archers. When the River Mír came into view, he came to a grinding halt, his heart pounding loud in his ears.

  “No – impossible.”

  The general joined him and they both stared in dismay as the scores of ships bearing crimson flags sailed ever nearer. All were low in the water, filled with thousands of reinforcements.

  “Captain Avric gave me a report upon his arrival and stated that only half the Ayon fleet disembarked at Kilsney. Now we know why.”

  “But why was there no warning?” Emil asked. “When they passed Kaledros, surely somebody would have – ”

  “We must assume they attacked Kaledros and prevented any messages being sent,” Kaster said. “Lady Aiyla Moorey may be the only one to enlighten us about that. This invasion was thoroughly planned out and executed. There must be at least another forty thousand men in those ships!”

  “Gods…” Emil said, his voice low and solemn.

  “They truly mean to destroy us,” Kaster muttered. “You had best find the queen and prepare to transport her to safety, and Prince Korrosus as well.”

  “He is currently recovering from surgery,” Emil said, running his hands through his hair. “We will return him home as soon as it’s safe to move him. In the meantime, general, I suggest you find as many archers and arrows as possible.”

  “Already done. The city’s defenses are as good as they can be.”

  *

  The second half of the Ayon fleet weighed anchor half a mile from Te’Roek Harbor. A thick barge barricade had been constructed at the mouth of the harbor, vessels of all shapes and sizes lashed together to protect the most vulnerable district of the city. The Ayon soldiers were ferried ashore from their transport ships in a continuous flow of boats, but even after their vast multitude had gathered on the plain, the boats continued to make trip after trip from ship to land, bearing hundreds of wooden crates. It was a long while before the defenders realized they probably didn’t contain supplies to feed the Ayon army – according to General Kaster, the crates could, in fact, contain weapons.

  “It would seem all the more likely now,” Tiderius said solemnly when he joined Emil and the general on the wall after a long meeting at the castle with the members of the queen’s protectorate and city officials. “Why else would the Ayons wait to attack?”

  “This wall won’t fall easily to just any old bombardment,” General Kaster said confidently. “It was constructed using the strongest materials and the most effective method of building.”

  “Yet this wall has never been tested against a force so great,” Emil said. “Despite the enchantments we put on them, the wall will eventually buckle and break.”

  “But against an attack of pure magic, it should stand firm, right?” Tiderius asked. “Varren can’t bring it down on his own.”

  “True.”

  “We’ve barricaded the gates with everything we can lay our hands on,” Kaster added, “and barrels of oil have been stored above each of the gates to be used in the likely event of rams. Apart from that, I don’t see what else we can do at this stage but to wait.”

  A little while later, the general called all his captains together. It was an anxious group that gathered at the West Gate but each man listened intently. Tiderius found his brother, newly rested from the border retreat, and clapped him on the back solemnly.

  “And do we have a plan if the city is breached?” one of the captains asked.

  “Should the first wall be breached, a flag symbol – the yellow – will be raised from that location. Reinforcements can be drawn from other locations to converge on the breach. There, we can hopefully regain our ground and defend while emergency repairs are completed.

  “If the breach is overwhelmed, a red flag will summon maximum reinforcements, in the hope of reducing casualties as we retreat to the designated barricades along the main streets. All adjoining alleyways and roads have been blocked. Consecutive red flags from the barricades will mean a full retreat from that district of the lower city.

  “Lives are the priority. Men are to leave the wall and make for the middle city when the situation is dire. No exceptions. I want no life lost on ridiculous heroics. That goes for you too, Auran. Hear me?”

  Rasmus nodded.

  “Right. They are constructing some kind of catapult line, so be mindful of where and how you place your men. Do not clump together on the wall! We don’t want multiple casualties from a single strike. Once you deduce where they’re aiming, clear your men away from that section of wall immediately. Any questions?”

  There was a murmured negative and the men began to file away to their designated posts. Tiderius caught his brother’s arm.

  “If we don’t see each other before the siege begins,” he said, grasping Rasmus’s shoulders and drawing him into a tight embrace, “take care of yourself, all right?”

  “And you,” Rasmus replied, patting him on the back.

  Tiderius stepped back and then looked through one of the many window slits in the guard tower. To the west, the Ayon army stretched out for miles across the Kirofirth plains. “It will be a hard fight, brother.”

  “Could be the last day of our lives,” Rasmus muttered and sighed. “Not the best day for it…Damn, I haven’t even had an ale to see me on my way.”

  *

  The sun was sinking lower, sending an orange wash across the sky and land below. The rain had passed on, leaving the plain muddy and glistening. Men had been at their defensive posts now for most of the day, each hour filled with tense waiting and pacing. The general ordered most men to withdraw to preserve their energy but to remain close. The lower city streets near the wall were filled with soldiers sitting on the cobblestones or on doorsteps in groups, halfheartedly talking and eating.

  Insisting he had slept enough, Rasmus had gone to his post, so Tiderius now wand
ered the streets alone. His orders from the queen were to stay with the general, but Kaster himself had told him to leave the vigil to the Home Guard. “We’ll need you fit and ready when the time comes,” Kaster had said. “Return when you hear the signal.”

  He passed many people he recognized, soldiers and civilians alike, but there were many more who were strangers to him, and not all of them Tareks. He suddenly wondered how many of them he would never have the opportunity to meet. Would they live to see the sun shine once more upon the great white stones of the castle? Could this truly be, as Rasmus had feared, the last day of their lives?

  A great horn sounded from the west gate. The Ayons must have commenced their attack at last. Tiderius leaped into action. Soldiers moved aside for him as he reached the wall and climbed the spiral stairs in the guard tower. The general was already there, looking dismally out at the scene from the battlements, his fist clamped on the pommel of his sword, his knuckles white. The air caught in Tiderius’s throat.

  Roughly one hundred catapults were being drawn forward from the Ayon ranks. Two horses pulled each with a team of men pushing from the rear. They must have been working in shifts to construct so many weapons in just a few hours. It was staggering. “They certainly came prepared,” the general observed drily. “If their aim is true, I’ll withdraw most of the archers from the walls and wait until they’ve exhausted their supply or their infantry begin their attack.”

  “Which gate did Emil say he was going to defend?”

  “The south originally, but since there’s no immediate threat from the river, I’d prefer him to come here to the west.”

  “I agree. We need him, and Markus and Kayte, to sabotage those catapults before they can do any serious damage.”