Exiles of Forlorn

by Sean T. Poindexter

  “Hello, Sand King,” said Burlone once we were within a few strides of them.

  “Burlone.” He barely acknowledged him. His eyes were on Ferun. “What’s he doing here?”

  Burlone looked at Ferun and laughed. “I thought it would help if you saw a friendly face.” Ferun grinned at that. My hand inched toward Red. I wanted to cut that madman’s smile off his face.

  Arn and Burlone met eyes. “You’ve come to talk?”

  “I’ve come to offer terms. That’s the civilized thing to do, isn’t it? And we are all civilized men.”

  “Civilized men don’t kidnap women and sell them into slavery,” I said.

  Everyone looked at me, making me uncomfortable. Especially Burlone. I got the same wolf-eyed glance from him that had always disturbed me about Ferun, only worse. If possible, Burlone was an even bigger mad dog than Ferun. He was just better at hiding it behind a veneer of boisterous charm.

  Burlone looked back at Arn. “You planning to let the wall builder conduct negotiations for you, Sand King?”

  “No.” Arn gave me a look that unmistakably told me to keep my mouth shut and turned his eyes back to Burlone. “You come to offer terms?”

  He put his thumbs in his belt. “I want your women. Old, young, newborn if you have them. And the boys. They’re popular in some circles.” Burlone’s chest shook as he chuckled.

  “Impossible.”

  “You haven’t heard my terms.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I’m not giving you anyone.”

  Burlone raised his hand and gestured behind him. We could see the very edges of his army around the bend in the beach. I could smell them from here: a filthy, stinking mass of Scumdogs with cutlasses, hatchets and spears. “You don’t have a choice. I’m getting them one way or another. The only difference will be whether or not you get to live.”

  Arn stared at him. “You think I would trade my life for theirs? I wouldn’t accept your terms for a single one, much less all of them. If you think you can take them, come and try.”

  “You will die.”

  “Many will die,” said Antioc. He stared at Ferun. The bastard stared back. They exchanged that look warriors did when they singled each other out. If we hadn’t been in the way, they might have just had a rematch right there on the beach.

  Burlone noticed it too, and laughed. He clapped Ferun on the shoulder before turning back to us. “You have a counter-offer, Sand King?”

  “Yes. Leave us alone. We’re no threat to you. We’re able to defend ourselves if need be. Just go back to Drullcove and stop harassing us.”

  Burlone sighed. “I brought these boys out. It would be a shame to go to them with nothing.”

  “You’ll go to them with their lives.”

  They stared at each other for a while. That was when the engineer stepped up and jumped into the conversation. He looked at me and asked, “You’re the wall builder? Lew, is it?” I nodded. “I’m Kane. Marvelous work, it is.”

  “Thank you.”

  “It’s a shame to destroy such a beautiful thing, but we will bring it down.”

  I crooked an eyebrow. “You sound quite certain.”

  “Oh, I am.” He nodded. “I’ve breeched walls before, and I’ll breech this one.”

  “You can’t mean with sappers and burrowers. The ground is too dense and you’ll never get close enough without us seeing.”

  “That’s always the risk with sappers and burrowers.” He pointed at the gate. “I heard you used a balanagra lock.”

  My face lit up. “I did!”

  “Outstanding.”

  “Thank you. You know, I always wanted to make one but never had the cha─”

  Burlone interrupted me with an exasperated sigh. “I think we’re finished here.”

  “Quite,” said Arn. And we turned and walked away.

  “What do you think of our chances now?” Arn asked once we were clear of them, almost to the gate.

  I shrugged. True, they had an engineer, and more men. But I was willing to bet they didn’t have as many builders as we did. Not that I had very many, but most of mine were conditioned to labor and had the discipline to see a job through to completion. I doubted a bunch of pirates, slavers and raiders had the patience to build a siege tower or trebuchet.

  The bottom grate fell with a slam as we closed the gate. Arn slid the latches in place and slid the pin in, locking it with the new key I’d made him to replace the one Ferun had stolen. He dropped it into his shirt where it dangled at the end of a leather thong.

  While he was doing that, Antioc turned to me and said, “That little exchange there, between you and the other engineer, that wasn’t just idle conversation between tradesmen, was it?”

  I shook my head. “No, my stout friend. What you witnessed was the engineer’s equivalent to chest thumping. He was showing he is aware of the strength of our wall, and that he is confident he can breach it.”

  “And can he?”

  “Oh, I have little doubt that he can.” I grinned and looked at the ropes running along the side of the gate to the turning bars above that drew and dropped the wolf grate. “But I intend to make it quite difficult for him.”

  “Let us hope so,” said Arn. He gestured for me to follow, and I did as we walked toward his yurt. “Once they breech the gate, it will be up to our fighters to kill as many of them as we can.” Horvis joined us then, panting to keep up. How he could still be overweight after living here for a month I had no idea.

  “I estimate that we will need to destroy a full two-thirds of their number before they break and run,” said Claster as we walked up the steps and entered Arn’s yurt.

  “So few?” asked Sharkhart.

  “These are not disciplined men, sir. They may have numbers, but they aren’t used to a ground conflict. They haven’t the patience for a siege war and will attack as an unorganized cluster of individuals.”

  Horvis caught his breath and pointed at the wall on the table map. “Wherever they do manage to breech, their numbers may well work against them as they try to fight their way in.”

  Claster nodded. “They’ll be choke-pointed, and that’s when our ground archers can inflict the most serious damage.”

  “What about the catapults?” asked Arn—I let that slide. “Can we bring them to bear against the breech?”

  I shook my head. “I wouldn’t advise using the onagers on targets that close to the wall. One wayward shot, and we risk bringing down more of the wall. Besides, we’ll probably be out of ammunition by then anyway.”

  Arn leaned on the table and looked down at the map. “Then after the archers, they’ll spill into the colony, and we’ll be fighting them in the streets?”

  Claster nodded. “Yes, sir. That’s when we’ll suffer the heaviest casualties. Once we join them in battle, it’ll be man against man, and even the best of ours is outmatched by their fighters.”

  Arn took a deep breath, not looking up. “How will we beat them then?”

  He asked us all, but Antioc answered, “With faith.” We all looked at him. “Our cause is righteous, our fight just. It is with faith that the Adonai shook the mountains and parted the tides. It was faith that brought the Daevas and their blessings to us, and it is our faith in them, and in ourselves, that will win through the day.”

  Everyone was silent for a while. I’d never known Antioc to be particularly spiritual, but here he was invoking the miracles of the Adonai and the blessings of the Daevas. I was impressed. Arn put his hand on Antioc’s arm and squeezed as he smiled. “I hope you’re right, my friend.”

  I hoped so, too.

  29.

  Everyone had the same question, “When will they attack?” I always had the same answer. “When it is dark.”

  As evening approached, Zindet made her rounds, praying with as many people as she could at a time, offering the comforting words of Oralae. But Oralae was a Daeva of the sun, and our enemies were allies of the night. What power could the sun have at night? I was pl
easantly impressed with her answer, “In its inevitable return.”

  Before the last rays of light fell below the horizon, Arn took his place on the porch of his yurt. He couldn’t build things, and he couldn’t lead the men in battle. He was a decent fighter, but we wouldn’t allow him to stand on the front lines as he wanted. “What can I do, then?” he’d asked.

  I replied, “You’ll do what kings do. You’ll give a speech.”

  Before us, the colony. We were close enough to the wall that men could stand at their posts and still hear and see us. We surrounded the stage, my friends and I. Gargath with his healer’s kit and Hratoe beside him; Uller with his pouches and purses full of sorcerous aids; Reiwyn with her bow; Blackfoot with his dagger, sling, and sack full of rocks; Antioc with his great maul, Zin with her sun disc and book of scripture; Front-Strider with his crossbow; and finally Claster and Horvis with the short swords they’d had made for the battle. Sharkhart stood next to Arn, standing in place as the Sand King stepped forward.

  He raised his hands to the crowd, and they quickly fell silent. “I have run before,” he said after a brief pause. “I have run most of my life. I liked to believe that I ran for a noble purpose. That I was looking for something greater than what I saw around me. But I know that’s just an excuse. I ran because I was afraid. I ran because I didn’t want the responsibility life had foisted upon me. I ran because I wanted to run. I am here because it is where I have chosen to be.

  “You are all here because you have no other place to be. Some of you followed me, most of you came later. But you all found this colony because of a promise I made to you. A promise that we would all be equals. A promise that we wouldn’t be judged by the station of our birth or the wealth in our coffers. A promise that you would be safe from bounty hunters. Safe from war and starvation. Safe from slavery and corruption.”

  He looked down for a moment, then raised his head. “I have failed you. I have not kept you safe, and the enemy is at our gate. They mean to take what little we have, and from some of you, more than that.

  “But we will not let them. We will fight them! This is our land. This is our home. We have worked it, built it up, made it ours. No one man owns this place, it is the property of us all. We share it. We bow to no kings, acknowledge no tyrants. Those who would seek to undo us will fall, because the Daevas have blessed this colony, and they have blessed us.

  “Stand with me, friends. Stand with us. I will not run this time. You have no other place to go, and neither do I. I will fight. I will die, if need be. I require no more of any of you than I do of myself. But if any wish to make peace with our enemies, to throw in your lot with them, go now.” He pointed at the gate. “No one will stop you. This is no empire, and you are not subjects. You are free men and women, and if you are to put yourself at risk, you will do so by your choice.”

  He waited for a moment, as if expecting that some might break away and leave. When no one did, he smiled and continued, “There is greatness here, but it is not from me, and it is not from my words. It is from you. It is in your strength, your bravery, your passion. It is the fire of the Daevas raging inside us that burns away the fear and strengthens our resolve. We have run before, all of us have. For many reasons. But we will not run now. We will not flee.” He raised his fist into the air. “We will fight!”

  A cheer went up through the colony, louder than thunder and a hundred times as strong. Beside myself, I found I was cheering as well. It was infectious, I supposed. I looked up at the stage at Arn. I couldn’t believe I’d never seen it before. I knew then that even if I’d never met his family, even if the secret of his birth had never been revealed to me, I’d have known him to be a king.

  We gathered before going to our posts. Claster and Horvis left us then. They seemed to understand that this was our time. We exchanged looks. Worried, excited, terrified, so many things reflected in our eyes. I opened my mouth, but no words came. Even Uller was dumbstruck. I looked at Antioc and nodded. He smiled back. I stepped forward and thrust my hand into the center of our circle, open with my palm down.

  Antioc stepped up and put his big, strong hand under mine, holding it up. Reiwyn came next, putting hers on mine; Blackfoot slapped his dirty little hand on hers. Uller came next. Gargath and Hratoe put in, followed by Zin, Uller, then Front-Strider. We stood there like that for a moment, knowing the next time we did this, there might be fewer hands to hold.

  30.

  I was standing on the wall when they came. It was blackest night beyond the flickering borders of our torches. I heard them, a clamor of steps pounding earth in the darkness. I smelled them, too. A legion of the unwashed, their bodies caught by the wind, bringing their stink to us along the edges of the wall.

  I turned and looked at Blackfoot on the ground below me. I gave him a nod, and he took off, running to inform the commanders to be ready. Beyond him, in the torch-lit streets, I saw Reiwyn and her archers lined up. Beyond them, the onagers and their crews of mostly women and the old. I turned back to the wall and the darkness beyond.

  “Are you ready?” I asked.

  “I am,” answered Uller. He stood to my right, behind one of the arrow blinds. A little further down was Front-Strider, hunched down against the spiked wall. He pulled back the drawstring and locked it in place, then loaded a bolt. He nodded beyond him at the two-man crews occupying the espringals on either side of us, already loaded with arrows the size of spears with sharpened stone tips.

  “Are you sure you can do this?” I muttered to Uller.

  “You’d better hope I can,” he muttered back, and reached into his pouch. He drew out a sad looking little orange fruit and began to peel it. Once it’s white and peach flesh was bare, he sprinkled a collection of dried herbs from a belt pouch over it; little bits stuck to it like dust as he muttered a few words I couldn’t understand. Then he shoved the fruit into his mouth, his jaw straining to take it all, and raised his hands.

  A great burst of light erupted from his chest with a flame-like whooshing sound, then raced above him, growing as it rose. He looked up at it and shouted as though in pain as pink juice ran down his cheeks and neck. The burst of light floated high and erupted, filling the colony and the lands beyond the wall with a great glow of light almost the equal of the sun.

  Then we saw them. An army of dumbfounded raiders staring up at the great glow above. I laughed and slapped Uller on the back, apologizing the next second when I remembered that he had to concentrate to maintain this light. I grabbed a pole with a green flag on it and waved it above my head. In the colony, I saw Horvis wave a green flag in reply. I dropped the flag and turned back to Front-Strider with a nod.

  “Let them have it!” he shouted.

  The thump of the espringals releasing tension was followed by the whoosh of bolts projecting through the air. They quickly reloaded, the men at the back of the box-frames turning a crank that drew back the tension line, with the ones next to it loading another spear in the groove.

  Arrows flew back; most hit the wall. Most of those that passed over the wall did so harmlessly, but a few struck home and sent a few of my artillery men to their knees. I grabbed the pole with the red flag and raised it high. In the distance, next to my onagers, Horvis waved a red flag back. I heard him shout, “Loose!” followed by the clank and groan of artillery firing. Three huge rocks careened over Reiwyn’s archers and the wall. I watched them travel along their path until they crashed into the throngs of Scumdogs, ripping flesh and crushing the bones of any in their path with a most gruesome sound.

  I cheered and waved the flag three times, signaling for them to fire at will. The artillery crews worked furiously to reload the onagers as the espringals fired again, skewering two or three Scumdogs with each stone tipped projectile. They reloaded in a hail of arrow fire, again mostly harmless but taking some of our men down with screams. Those that fell were quickly replaced as the wounded shuffled down the ladders to Gargath and Hratoe for healing.

  The onagers fired
again, but I couldn’t watch the shots land this time. I grabbed a blue flag and waved it above my head. An arrow streaked by me, almost taking off my ear as I jumped behind the arrow blind next to Uller. Tears ran down his winced face as he concentrated on the glowing light above. Next to Reiwyn, I saw Claster wave a blue flag back at me, and Reiwyn gave the order to fire. The night filled with the twang of bowstrings, followed by the whistle of arrows as they arced toward their targets. They’d barely landed, tearing into flesh and eliciting a legion of screams, when Reiwyn and her archers had loosed another volley at them.

  In the night, beyond even the glow of Uller’s spell, I heard Burlone’s voice, titanous over the screams of his men, as he bellowed his command, “Charge!”

  Then came the charge. Knowing they’d lost the advantage provided by darkness, and that we had within us the means to break them at range, they sought to close the distance. Shields came up as they poured across the field. I grabbed the red flag and waved in a circle three times, Horvis waived in reply and signaled for Friyesse and her crews to push the onagers back to change their range. They worked quickly, pulling out the wedge breaks so Antioc and his burly Wrecking Crew could roll them back on their big wooden wheels.

  The espringals groaned and whistled, then groaned again as they were reloaded. They were deadly at range, but once the enemy closed to the wall they’d be useless. They couldn’t be aimed directly down, and the mobility they did have was limited by their heavy wooden frame. Front-Strider gave the order for the elevation to be changed. They fired again, but most of the shots went wide and struck ground. I cursed to myself. I hadn’t really wanted to use espringals, they were inferior to the more aimable ballista, but I didn’t have enough room on the wall for them. I hoped the mobility of the onagers would make up for that, but seeing how long it was taking them to get the artillery in place told me I might have over-estimated them.