Banner Lord

by Jason L. McWhirter

  “How did...?” His voice trailed off.

  Jayla smiled. “The poison is very rare. But it has an antidote.” Jayla had been forced to taste everything before she served them. She had ingested the poison the same as they had. But she had the antidote, and it had worked.

  “You will feel everything, every ounce of pain as you bleed from every orifice of your body,” Jarak said. “You will not be able to move or cry out.”

  “We should go,” Jayla said, “before the new guards come and find us here.”

  Jarak nodded. “Good bye, Uncle.”

  The last thing Jarak saw in his uncles’ eyes was blood dripping from the corners, his face shaking in agony. He could no longer speak, his body racked with pain. Everyone left without a second look back.

  ***

  Vorn had led the forty warriors through several lengthy sewage tunnels, the smell nearly overwhelming them. They finally arrived at a point where a ladder had been propped up against an opening at the top. The big warrior motioned for them to follow him, the light from their torches illuminating the way. Climbing up the ladder they pulled themselves through a trap door into a massive room.

  It looked like a warehouse. They stood among stacks of crates and barrels and the soft glow of over twenty lanterns scattered throughout the room shed enough light for them all to see the hundred warriors staring at them as they entered. The warehouse was as tall as five men and large enough to house hundreds of crates if need be.

  The warriors facing them were arrayed in different types of armor, and carried a variety of different weapons; from swords, axes, and crossbows, to shields and spears. The one thing that unified them, however, was their stern and determined expressions. They all looked ready for business.

  One of the Dygon Guards stepped over to Vorn. He was shorter than the man, but stocky, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist, clear evidence of his strength. Like all Dygon Guards, his hair had been shaved short, but his beard was black as night and grew to his massive chest. The man’s name was Tanit and he was a veteran Guard. “How many men do you have here?”

  “One hundred and fifty,” Vorn answered.

  “How many are trained?”

  “Nearly all,” Vorn responded. “Most were Legionaries. The rest are mercenaries hired by Angel.”

  Tanit nodded and faced the men, all of whom were looking at him. The Dygon Guards had a fearsome reputation and the expressions of the men around them reflected their respect. “When we get to the east gate,” Tanit said, raising his voice so all could hear, “I want all shields and spears at the front of the line. Those that have crossbows or bows, fall behind them.” The first thing the enemy will do is fire arrows at us from the wall above. We need to take out the archers quickly. I want them fully occupied while my comrades climb the stairs to the wall and take out the archers.”

  There was a chorus of agreement as Orin, Ardra, and Aldgar stepped forward. The two Gyths carried their bows while Aldgar, dressed in Saricon armor, still wore the Kul-brite blade at his side. “We need to get moving,” Orin said to Tanit. “They will be at the gate soon.”

  Tanit nodded, then turned back to Vorn. “Lead the way.”

  ***

  Uln and a thousand Varga were waiting south of the city not more than two hundred paces from the city wall lying in the wait under the cover of the dark night. An Aurit Lord named Deltor was lying in the snow next to Uln along with four Dygon Guards. Lord Deltor was a Merger in his late forties. He had been a warden for five years when he was a young man and had spent his remaining years running several lucrative copper mines south of the capital. He knew the land and the city well and had led the Varga to the edge of a gentle rise. The Varga were skilled hunters and trackers, and despite their huge size could move quite agilely and silently through the forests. They knew their business and Uln had picked the very best of his warriors for this mission.

  The city’s eastern walls were built close the edge of the bay, so close in fact that there was barely enough room for the narrow road, which ran along the edge of the stone bulwark that had been built to keep the sea water from crashing over it. The city had two entrances. The main entrance and biggest gate was located at the northern wall, while the east gate was much smaller and led to the wharf, access to which was attainted by boat from the docks or by the small road that ran along the stone bulwark to the southern side of the city. The narrow road led to the wharf, which was more or less a small town of warehouses owned by merchant and fishing companies. There were also a number of small shops where the fishmongers sold their wares. A stone wall had been built on the water side of the cart wide road and across it was erected a strong iron gate as tall as two men. The huge network of docks spanned nearly the entire eastern wall of the city that faced the bay. Located centrally amongst the docks and buildings was the east gate. It was small in comparison to the main gate and it was only used by sailors, fisherman, or traders coming from the south.

  The eastern gate was much smaller than the main gate, its height measuring two men. It was twice the width of a wagon and the strong planks from which it was made were as thick as a man’s foot. It was well made and an adequate deterrent.

  Angel had informed them that the Saricons had only two hundred men guarding this gate. The entrance to the gate as well as the narrow road leading to it was much too small for an army, and therefore the foreign occupiers deemed it more prudent to man the main gate with over a thousand men. Their objective was to have Vorn and his men on the inside, with the help of Jarak and his companions, take the eastern gate and then open it for the Varga. Once inside, the giants and the rest of the men would attack the main gate. While this was occurring, all before sunrise, Jarak’s main army would charge the city with all they had, hoping to break through the Saricon defenses with a sudden rush of extreme force. They were hoping they would catch them unprepared, hoping the Saricons wouldn't expect the attack until first light. Everything depended on whether or not they could control the main gate.

  “Signal should be soon,” Uln said. Uln’s face was painted with streaks of red and red Varga sigils covered his arms, the only skin exposed beneath the white fur vest he wore. A Varga’s skin was thick and tough, enabling them to withstand cold temperatures with little clothing.

  Deltor looked at the huge warrior. At first the Varga’s presence had unnerved him. But after spending several weeks with the giants his earlier trepidation had vanished. Now he saw them as comrades in arms. He was glad they were on their side. The retired warden had never seen such imposing warriors before. Even the Saricons looked like children next to them. He let out a deep breath to relax his nerves, the air white from the cold. He was quite nervous. After all it had been a long while since he had fought in combat. “When it does come, don’t forget we need to take out the guards blocking the path.”

  They had spied six guards standing in the cold on the other side of the iron gate. They were all Saricons and several of them carried quivers filled with their deadly javelins.

  “Not worry,” Uln whispered. “I have warriors ready.”

  ***

  Jarak and his group killed six more men as they exited the inner palace’s main doors. They were confronted by another five men who quickly succumbed to their blades. It wouldn’t be long before the Saricon’s figured out what was happening and sound the alarm. Running with all haste they approached the gate to the palace, silently slipping from shadow to shadow as they made their way through the snow covered grounds.

  There were three men at the gate and two more standing at the top of the wall that surrounded the inner palace. The guards so far had been Dy’ainians loyal to Daricon, but these men at the gate were all Saricons. And, as per their plan, five of the guards loyal to Jarak and wearing the Saricon armor walked casually towards the Saricons while the others watched silently, hidden in the darkness behind shrubs and trees that covered the palace grounds. Four other guards loyal to Jarak were holding loaded crossbows aimed at the men on the
wall.

  The Saricons were on alert as the five men approached. Clearly they had heard some commotion from their early fighting and were tense. Jarak watched intently, his heart beating fast as he waited for their move. Then suddenly blades were drawn and his five men quickly dispatched the surprised Saricons. Instantly the guards near him ran out from the darkness and aimed their weapons. Several clicks later and their bolts flew through the air, slamming into the guards on the wall. One missed but luckily the man’s back up shooter didn’t, his bolt slamming into the guard’s chest and knocking him off the wall on the other side. The stillness of night was broken by the sound of his body hitting the pavers

  “Hurry,” Jarak whispered. They wanted to get out of the palace grounds in case men from the barracks awoke. The last thing they needed was another fifty Saricons converging on them before they made it to the east gate.

  Everyone ran to the palace gate as the guards loyal to Jarak ran into the gatehouse to open it. Several moments later and the gate rose, lifted by the counterweight and mechanism built into the small barbican.

  They ran through the gate and into the shadowed streets of Cythera, heading for the east gate. The streets were mostly empty. It was late, close to dawn, and most of the citizens of Cythera, knowing that the battle was coming, had remained in their homes. They ran into a Saricon patrol of five men, who they cut down quickly, but not before one of the warriors blew his signal horn to raise the alarm. There was nothing they could do about it except continue forward with their plan. Picking up their pace, they turned onto the main street. The east gate was five hundred paces away.

  ***

  “What was that?” Ardra asked as she followed Vorn down a dark alleyway. One hundred and fifty warriors moved silently behind them, their numbers filling the tight space of the walkways. Stone buildings rose all around them, providing plenty of cover throughout the network of alleyways that led through the city of Cythera.

  Vorn stopped and the others followed suit. “It sounded like a Saricon horn.”

  Tanit and his Dygon Guard drew their weapons. “We better make haste then,” he said, his tone as hard as the steel he carried. “If I recall, we are close to the east gate.”

  “We are,” Vorn confirmed. “This alley leads to the main street. The gate is only a hundred paces east.”

  “Then we better run,” Orin suggested. “Jarak could be in trouble.”

  And with that realization, they gave up stealth for speed, and raced from the alleyway running east down the main street.

  ***

  Kahn Taruk was standing on the main wall looking out into the darkness when the horn sounded. It was so dark that all he could see were the embers of the fires that stretched across the snowy ground where his men camped beyond the main gate. Torches had been lit along the wall and guards stood vigilant. General Sigmar stood next to him and his hand went reflexively to one of his swords when the horn shattered the stillness of the night.

  “That was near the east gate,” General Sigmar said.

  The Tongra looked back behind him, towards the inner city, his eyes narrowing. “Take two hundred men with you and investigate it.”

  “Yes, Tongra,” the general replied as he rushed to the stairs that led to the inner courtyard beyond the main gate. There were over a thousand men stationed there, ready to fight to keep the gate shut.

  “Sigmar!” the Tongra yelled after him. The general stopped at the stairs and looked back at the Tongra. “Take two Shadow Riders with you and send runners to wake Daricon. He should be here by now.”

  General Sigmar nodded and ran down the stairs.

  ***

  Tanit and his men were running towards the east gate. By this time the hundreds of Saricons protecting the gate had seen them and hastily formed a wall of steel and flesh. There were over fifty men on the wall looking out into the darkness, all of whom turned to face the interior when they heard the thudding of boots as over a hundred warriors charged them. Saricons shouted orders as men took their positions, the archers on the wall nocking arrows and waiting for them to get into range.

  “Tanit!”

  The Dygon Guard glanced behind him, and once seeing who it was called for his men to halt. Stopping, the shield bearers, over forty of them, formed a protective wall that fanned out across the street. Most held spears and nearly thirty bowman and crossbowman stood behind them, their weapons loaded and nocked.

  Jarak and his companions ran from behind them and joined the Dygon Guards behind the shield wall. “Good timing,” the king said, panting heavily.

  “We heard the horn and thought you were in trouble,” Tanit said, his eyes on fire as adrenaline raced through him. He was ready to fight.

  “We need to attack and now,” Jarak said. “That horn will bring reinforcements. We need to get that gate open and get the Varga inside. If we don’t succeed, we will be overrun and cut down.”

  “Then let’s go. Stay behind us,” Tanit ordered. “If we lose you it’s all over.”

  “Very well. Lead the way.”

  Tanit turned back to the men. “Men!” he yelled. “We must get that gate open at all costs! King Jarak is with us! Forward at half speed!” Roaring defiantly the men took off again, jogging towards the wall of Saricons. As they got within range arrows flew at them from the wall. “Stop and raise!” Tanit shouted.

  The shields came up as arrows slammed into them. Handfuls of men fell as some shafts made it through. After the first volley their own archers and crossbowman returned fire. Several hit targets but most were deflected off the stone wall.

  “Forward!” Tanit shouted. They jogged forward another fifteen paces when more arrows showered down upon them. More men fell and they returned fire again, killing a few but not enough.

  Brant was ducking low as arrows flew around them. “I’m not staying here!” he shouted to Jarak. “I’m going after the archers!”

  Tanit heard him and turned towards him. “My men will join you.” Then he faced back towards the wall. “Charge!” he yelled.

  The shield wall, now consisting of only thirty men, charged at full speed towards the Saricon wall. Behind them their comrades charged, screaming war cries. Jarak, Serix, Cat, and Endler ran at the rear, looking for the best way to use their spells.

  The eight Dygon Guards, four on one side of the street, and the others, including Tanit and Brant, on the other side, ran at full speed. They were all Mergers and they out distanced the main group quickly, racing towards the Saricon flanks. Near the gate the street opened up into a small courtyard, the majority of it filled with a hundred and fifty Saricons. Another fifty were on the wall shooting arrows down at them. The majority of the enemy was in formation at the gate. Their main goal was to protect it, and only a handful of warriors were guarding the stairs on either side of the barbican that allowed access to the wall.

  The Mergers cut into them quickly, their swords flitting from one Saricon to another, skillfully carving a path through them. One arrow clipped Brant in the shoulder, but was deflected off his steel pauldron. A Dygon Guard to Brant’s right was struck by a javelin, the impact impaling him and knocking him off his feet. Brant took the impact from the arrow in stride and cleaved the face of a Saricon at the base of the steps. The man fell to the side in a shower of blood as Brant took the steps three at a time, his enhanced speed propelling him up the stairs in a few blinks. Tanit and one more guard made it through, leaving behind them a tangle of fifteen Saricon bodies as they followed Brant up the steps.

  On the far side the highly trained Mergers had also gained the base of the stairs, but not without casualties. Two of their men had been hit by arrows while fighting their way through. The two survivors left in their wake ten bodies before bolting up the steps. Saricon archers near them dropped their bows and drew their melee weapons, leaping at the Mergers as they roared Heln’s name.

  Meanwhile, Jarak and Serix, along with Endler, had stayed back as their men crashed into the wall of Saricons. “Let’s do i
t,” Jarak growled, pulling energy from Endler. Luckily for them, the Saricon archers were now occupied with the Mergers and they were temporarily free to create the spell without fear of taking an arrow in the process. Together they both formed a glowing sphere of fire, weaving strands of flaming energy together until each ball was the size of a man’s head. Once it was complete, they stood up tall to look over the fighting warriors.

  The Saricon wall was forty men wide and three rows deep. Jarak's forces had managed to kill nearly twenty of them, but at least that many of their own had been dispatched by Saricon swords and javelins. There was a gap between the rear of the Saricon men and the gate that was probably five paces wide. Just as they had planned it would make a perfect spot to unleash their spell, doing damage to both the gate as well as the Saricons protecting it.

  “Ready!?” Serix yelled over the fighting.

  Jarak nodded and they both leaned back and hurled their fireballs into the air. The flaming spheres arced over the men fighting and landed into the gap at the rear. The violent explosion sent bursts of fire shooting out in all directions. The gate shook and cracked as flames attacked its surface. The Saricons unfortunate enough to be near the blasts were knocked off their feet, and hurled into their comrades in front of them. Nearly a dozen were killed instantly by the impact and nearly twice that number were on fire, their bodies flailing around in futile attempts to escape the flames, only to spread them amongst their comrades.

  Brant dodged the thrust of a Saricon sword bringing his own sword down and across his chest, cutting through mail and flesh alike. Knocking him aside, Brant raced forward, looking for his next target. Just before him, only ten paces away, stood a Saricon, his arm drawn back, javelin in hand. Snapping his arm forward, the weapon flew at him, and even in his enhanced state of speed and power he was barely able to avoid it. The razor sharp point sliced through his leather jerkin, grazing his bicep and leaving a thin trail of blood before it slammed into the stone battlements. Growling in fury Brant hurled himself forward, and before the Saricon could even draw his sword he found himself impaled by Kul-brite steel. Brant quickly withdrew his sword, and shoved the lifeless body aside.