by Tiger Hebert
She couldn’t forgive herself, and she wouldn’t. They were gone, and it was her fault. She never stopped grieving. She grew cold and distant as she continued to swallow a pill of bitterness. Some thought her to be dark and brooding; others said she was just disconnected. She plunged herself into her craft. She was fiery with a grim determination to become the perfect instrument of the brotherhood, an instrument of death. That was when she swiftly rose through the ranks of the brotherhood until she became master slayer. Among the brotherhood, she had no equal in the art of stealth, assassination, and combat. Not even her counterpart, Master Slayer Kyarl, excelled like she did. Her brothers and sisters in arms admired her, some adored her, most feared her, and all misunderstood her.
The day grew long; soon torchlight along the bridge and the fortress walls replaced the vanishing sunlight. A new wind began to blow through the trees. Kiriana’s long forest-colored cloak began to trail in the wind as she silently stared out from the lower fortress wall. She was locked and loaded, with her twin repeaters hanging from her belt. Their two carousels were full of bolts. She watched the green jungle growth just beyond the bridge that spanned the river for any signs of the Danji. She knew she couldn’t undo her mistakes. She couldn’t bring back the ones that she loved, but she could kill all of those that would threaten the rest, or die trying. So, she watched and waited, and the wind blew.
25 A Light in the Darkness
The sun had completely sunk below the cliffs and the tree line, and then it went out of sight altogether. The cold winds grew strong as they intruded upon the otherwise balmy jungle nights. Stepping out from the cover of the dense jungle foliage, the Danji army crept into view just beyond the river. The dark-skinned bodies of the tribal warriors were barely covered in scraps of hide and strings of bones. The rest of their exposed flesh was decorated with elaborate tribal markings of black and green paint. It appeared that it would be easy pickin’ for the defenders of Tempour, but more and more Danji emerged from the darkness, stepping into the torchlight. The Danji forces were outmatched in many ways. The fortifications of the city were the largest disadvantage, but they also lacked the skilled craftsmen needed to create the armors and weapons of the elves and the brotherhood. They would instead rely upon their sheer numbers and power of will.
The fullness of two armies faced each other for the first time. The silence was broken by the ringing of the city’s bells. The signature whooping call of the Danji erupted from their ranks, and they began to maneuver. Many of their forces crowded at the far end of the wide bridge that spanned the river while others scrambled down the embankment on either side of the river, only to splash into the warm waters below. Then it began.
As they plummeted into the waterway, the first series of arrows and bolts were launched toward them. Those that could avoid the fire swam frantically to get under the cover of the bridge. While this transpired, the Danji forces charged across the bridge. This tactic was effective at confusing the defenders for the briefest of moments. Their fire was unfocused, and many were initially hesitant, unsure where to fire. As the wave of warriors charged across the bridge, they lifted what looked like a large section of a wooden palisade. Moving like a solid wall, they allowed their crude barricade to absorb the heavy barrage of fire, allowing them to reach the other side of the bridge.
“Take out the trailers,” commanded Kiriana as she used a nearby bow to fire a flaming tracer arrow.
The arrow struck one of the oncoming attackers directly behind those protected by the wooden shield wall. The flaming arrow lodged deep into the warrior’s shoulder. The flames quickly spread, and the burning soldier was trampled underfoot by his own people. The soldiers upon the walls heeded her command and quickly responded with a barrage of steel ordnance to the target area. The forces that trailed the shield wall were decimated, but the first wave reached the city walls and worked quickly to break their shield wall into pieces. As the barricade was broken down, the wood was stacked into two separate piles, one on each side of the bridge, just beyond each edge of the large portcullis that led into the city. As the piles were stacked, one of the warriors grabbed a nearby torch from the bridge and set fire to the wood. It didn’t take long for the dried wood to start burning.
Once the archers were able to eliminate the threat at the gate, they redirected their fire to thin out the ranks of the advancing Danji. A second wave of attackers pushed their way across the bridge behind the protection of yet another wall of wood. Kiriana led the next salvo of attacks as she fired another tracer arrow just beyond the walled assailants. And just like before, a swarm of arrows followed the tracer mere seconds later. The arrows bit and stung the unarmored attackers, dropping many of them dead in their tracks. However, the shielded Danji reached the portcullis and began to tear apart their wooden planks like before. They tossed the wood onto the two piles of burning wood, and the flames grew, stretching higher and higher. Then amidst the hail of arrows, one of the Danji who had reached the gate threw a fistful of dark powder into the fire and then a second handful into the other. As the flames devoured the powdered substance, plumes of thick choking smoke swirled high above the flames. The dark clouds forced the defenders on the walls above to retreat to new locations along the walls. It also served to largely block out their view of the gate from most angles.
The smoke would have been bad enough on its own, but the chilling breath of the wind scattered the smoke and spread its choking and blinding haze across much of the defenses on the southern side of the bridge. The forces of both elf and man scrambled to reposition themselves outside of this smoke screen. The Danji seized this opportunity to rush the gate. The flaming pyres were fed further, and Danji warriors used grappling hooks to begin scaling the walls.
Seratu and Isiirial used their positioning, free of the smoke, to their advantage. They were stationed with just a handful of recently trained elven archers on the northernmost bastion of the upper wall above the river. Its jutting extension gave a great vantage point. They effectively flanked the charging Danji, but much of their sight was clouded by the rolling smoke. They couldn’t wait for the smoke to clear, though, or the walls could be breached. So at Seratu’s command, they began to fire into the darkness of the swirling clouds. Many of their shots could be heard clanging and skipping off the stone face of the walls, but occasionally the cries of the enemy told them that they had hit their unseen marks.
As the night carried on, wave after wave of the Danji charged across the span in a similar fashion. The wooden shield bearers would lead the way, and they would scramble to add to the bonfires at the gate. Those that were not felled by arrow or bolt would then attempt to scale the walls amidst the cover of the smoke. Most were not successful, but some did breach the tops of the walls, where they would bury their spears into any gut they could find. For hours the cycle continued. They did suffer some losses at the top of that wall, but it appeared that things were going quite well for the defenders of Tempour. The Danji just couldn’t penetrate deep enough to raise the gate. Hundreds of bodies littered the bridge and the waterway below, but barely a dent had been taken out of the enemy forces. At this rate, they could win the war, but it would be slow going.
The night sped by, and only the silvery sliver of the moon hung high above, giving scarcely any light to the combatants below. The wind only grew stronger and, surprisingly, colder, and it continued to bite and gnaw at them. The siege had lasted for something close to seven hours, and there was the first sign of stoppage. The commanders of the black dragon’s army came together and decided to stop sending their forces across the bridge. It was late, and their strategy had been ineffective. Under the high priest’s direction, they agreed to resume the siege sometime in the morning. The majority of their forces were still intact, but they had lost close to five hundred spearmen. As they regrouped, they discussed different approaches to sacking the city. The methods were different, but it all came down to one key point. The walls were too high, and there were no other know
n entrance points around the fortress. If they couldn’t draw the enemy out, then they would have to raise the gate to gain entry to the city. The question was how.
Watches were set upon the walls of the great city so those who were tired could rest. Kiriana could not rest, though. She remained on high alert. She tirelessly patrolled the high walls of the fortress. She checked on the watches that were established and made sure that they got relief when needed, and then she walked some more. The predawn hours were strangely cold upon those walls tonight. She actually enjoyed the cold; it was a nice break from the steamy heat of the jungle. It brought her memories from long ago. Good memories, she thought. She really couldn’t remember much. She was perhaps only four or five, she guessed, but there was one thing she remembered well—the cold. The chill in the air on this early morning was different, though. It was harsh and biting. The wind was to blame, and it was unrelenting. It howled and whipped and snapped, like a snarling hound of the frozen north. It cut past her long hair and her cloak, past her leather armor, and through her undergarments. The chill dove deep into her skin and found its way into her bones.
She was tough, though, and determined not to let it shift her focus away. She was constantly trying to keep her mind on the task at hand. She tried to rerun scenarios over again in her mind, so that she would be prepared to act if they presented themselves. She ran calculations to establish time frames for the length of the siege. She even tried to calculate the expenditure of arrows and bolts, just to keep her mind off the cold.
“Some wind, isn’t this?” broke out the familiar voice, interrupting her chain of thought.
The beauty with blazing red hair was startled as she spun to face her mentor. “Excuse me, Grand Master Duncan, I was—”
“Stop apologizing, my dear,” replied the little old man with a smile.
She quickly gathered herself and responded, “Yes, this wind is something…”
“Something it is. Funny thing, it always blows from the north,” he added with a smile and a wink.
Before she could respond, the screech of a hawk rang out as the large black bird descended toward them. She quickly extended her left arm, which was wrapped by a thick leather bracer. The large bird took her cue and perched upon her forearm. Kiriana looked and found the small circular binding that hung from the hawk’s neck and removed the securely clasped leather scroll. As she unrolled the leather scroll, she read the message aloud,
Mistress Kiriana,
I have found Kyarl and his company. When counted, they must number about six hundred dwarves and maybe another two thousand men, plus women and children. These recent tidings may have been a blessing in disguise, as their path would have surely led them through the An’wari lands, which I expect they would have found to be rather inhospitable. We will finish our route and venture up the Yaresh for the final leg of the journey. You should find us there near the time that the sun’s rays first light the upper walls tomorrow.
Signed,
Slayer Aden
It didn’t take them any time at all to realize that they had a problem. They looked to the distant skyline above the jungle backdrop, and it was growing lighter. The sun was already rising in the east, and it would not be long before the first rays of light peaked over the canopy. While the exact moment of their arrival was unlikely to be synchronized with the rising of the sun, it was a fair indicator either way. Aden and Kyarl may have avoided the Danji thus far, but their streak of good fortune was about to take a turn for the worst. Even if they traveled up the Yaresh, they would still be walking right into a hornet’s nest of activity. It would be a trap that was inadvertently set. They could not retreat; they would just be chased down and slaughtered by the Danji forces. And there was no other way to gain access to Tempour from outside the city walls, beyond the gate.
“Their timing is terrible!” remarked the worried young woman.
“Terrible indeed. They will be slaughtered,” exclaimed Duncan as he tugged on his own beard.
“We cannot let that happen,” she declared.
He asked, “Well, what do you propose we do?”
“We have to at least give them a chance,” she said.
“How?” asked the old man in a gentle but cautious voice.
Then with a cold confidence that matched the chill in the air, she declared, “We will take the fight to them. Hopefully we can buy them enough time to get inside the walls.”
“That is suicide,” shouted the fatherly figure as he grabbed her free arm.
“Unless you see another way?” said Kiriana.
When he could offer no alternatives, she broke the silence. “Please send the message back to Aden. I will prepare the troops.”
She did not wait for his rebuttal or wisdom any longer because time was running short. She raced down from the walls and signaled a quick meeting with the other military leaders.
“We have a situation on our hands. A company of travelers are about to arrive at any moment. They travel up the Yaresh and come for refuge. They are not all soldiers, but many are elders and mothers with young children. When they break around the river’s bend, they will be slaughtered without our aid. We must buy enough time for them to reach the safety of the city,” she explained. “We must wall off the Danji.”
Jeren, one of her officers, asked, “How are we supposed to do this?”
With a steely expression, she calmly answered, “They will be largely protected by the river while they are south of our walls. It is too deep and too wide for the Danji to cross. However, the shallows just before and below the bridge crossing are a choke point. We will take the fight to the Danji before Kyarl’s company get there. We will reclaim the bridge and the river crossing and let them come in behind us. Our forces will have to be split. We will push one force across the bridge and use it as a tactical position of strength. We only need to hold it from being taken from us. The river crossing below is the more treacherous task. From all reports, the shallows below are still teeming with Danji who are lying in wait for ambush. I will lead a charge down the ramp and into the shallows. Once we descend the ramp, we will have a hell of a fight on our hands. There will be no strategic positioning. It will be all out battle. Making matters worse, the Danji can simply rush the shallows and send countless spears at us. Because of the grim nature of this task, I seek volunteers first.”
“My blade is yours,” shouted Jeren.
“Mine too,” added Seratu, whose voice was followed by a chorus echoing the same.
“Very well, gather from those willing as large a force as possible. God knows we will need it,” said Kiriana. “King Tua’Liluon, your guards are our most heavily armored soldiers, do you think them capable of holding the bridge if we provide ranged support behind them?”
“Even if it takes every shield and glaive I have, we will hold them,” was the king’s resolute answer.
“Our party should round the river bend at sunup. When they do, that gate opens, and we march forward. Make quick preparations. You have about fifteen minutes if they are on time,” finished Kiriana as she adjourned the meeting.
The leaders all scurried off in different directions with great urgency as they rushed to make the necessary preparations. Some said good-bye to loved ones; others, like the elven royal guard, donned their full plated regalia. The different officers also used this time to gather recruits for the battle at hand. The small window of time was fleeting. The soldiers crowded at the gate as they prepared to meet this threat head-on. The elven royal guard, who had grown in numbers since arriving in Tempour, led the way. The steel-clad soldiers stood rank and file and were armed to the teeth, with both shield and spear in hand. In the center of their formation stood the king.
“King, you cannot go out there,” protested Duncan.
“I can, and I will,” insisted the king defiantly. “If we do not win this battle, there will be no hope of a future kingdom for either of us.”
“But, my lord,” tried Duncan.
&nbs
p; “We will hold the bridge,” interrupted the king as he closed the golden-plated visor on his helm.
The king’s royal guard had grown to about thirty armored troops. More had been willing to join the ranks, but they just couldn’t produce the necessary armors and shields to equip any more than that. Gragarr and the other smiths had done exceptional work, but there was only so much time. The time for crafting weapons and armor had reached its end, and the time for putting them to use had arrived.
Behind the king’s ornately decorated troop was a large and growing gaggle of both men and women of Tempour. The Brotherhood of the Unveiled Eye had never seen a battle of this proportion, but they existed for just such a time, to stand in the face of the growing darkness. The slayers, led by Mistress Kiriana, were all dressed in long green cloaks and dark tunics. Varied series of leather straps and holsters wrapped around their bodies. They were equipped with swords, throwing knives and daggers, and of course, the staple of their armament—the repeating crossbow. They were a motley band of soldiers, but they were united against this common enemy, and they were prepared to march into battle as the first rays of dawn began to light the tops of the walls.
Only moments after the sun announced its arrival did the signal that they were waiting on come. From high up on their walls, one of the watchmen lit the signal torch quietly. At the signal, the heavy iron portcullis was raised, and the forces of Tempour marched out of the besieged city. The king’s armored regiment stretched from one side of the bridge to the other, about twelve abreast. The two rows of elven guards marched slowly toward the middle section of the bridge.
Kiriana, with the aid of Jeren and Seratu, led the second and much larger regiment of troops out the gate and immediately onto the large sweeping ramp that led down to the riverbed. Her company was primarily men and women of the brotherhood, but they were joined by some of the more adept elves. Even with the bolstered numbers, they still numbered less than two hundred on the ramp. As they got part way down the lengthy ramp, Kiriana raised up her balled fist, halting their advance as she waited for her entire company to get into position. The third and final regiment to depart the safe confines of the city walls was an assortment of close to thirty archers of both elvish and human descent. They took their place a short distance behind the elven guard on the bridge.
