Flare and the rest of the squad watched from the battlements, near where the rope had been hung over the wall.
They were all worried about Callin, but Trestus looked like he was waiting on the birth of his first child. He was nervously pacing back and forth, and chewing on his lip, as he peered out over the wall. A light sheen of sweat lay on his forehead.
Flare’s elven sight detected Callin first. “Here he comes!” He shouted, pointing.
The guards were gaining on him, and Callin knew it. He had run in a zigzag pattern, and it had cost him time. He could hear their footsteps and arduous breathing, and he could now hear shouts coming from other mercenaries as they joined in the chase.
The wall of the fort was in sight, and it inspired him to run even faster. He could see the defenders strung out across the top of the wall, as he headed for the rope.
As he neared the wall, Callin heard the whiz of arrows flying past him. The archers on the top of the wall were shooting at his pursuers. He didn’t look back, but the screams were enough to let him know that the archers had been effective.
Reaching the wall, he spotted the rope swinging to his left. He bounded to the rope, and began frantically climbing up.
The rope had knots tied in it every foot to help him climb. Even so, he didn’t know if he had the strength to reach the top of the wall. He was exhausted from the long run, and he thought his heart would soon burst. He struggled to put one hand over the other.
Flare was ecstatic, when the archers had cut down the three sentries that had been closest to Callin. The elation had quickly turned to anxiety, as the second wave of mercenaries approached. There were twenty or thirty in close pursuit.
“Keep shooting!” Flare hollered, sprinting to the wall, where Callin should be climbing. Looking over the wall, he was dismayed. Callin was climbing, but at an extremely slow pace, apparently he was exhausted.
Flare turned back toward the rest of the guardian squad, “Atock, Philip, give me a hand!”
Not waiting for a response, Flare turned back to the rope, and began slowly pulling the rope, and Callin up.
Philip and Atock were quickly by his side, and with their combined efforts, the rope was raised faster and faster. The knots that were intended to help Callin climb, also helped the guardians pull the rope up with ease. Knot by knot, they pulled the rope up, until at last they found Callin holding on for dear life.
Flare held the rope, while Philip grabbed the right shoulder of Callin, and Atock grabbed his left shoulder. Combined the two soldiers began pulling the young man up over the wall. Flare waited until they had a good hold of Callin, and then he let go of the rope, and grabbed Callin by the front of the shirt.
Callin was almost over the wall, when Flare heard a thunk, and the look on Callin’s face changed for the worse. He didn’t know what had happened until they got Callin over the wall, and they saw a long arrow sticking out from between his shoulder blades. They pulled Callin over the wall, and laid him down on his stomach.
“NO!” Trestus shouted running up to where his brother lay in a growing pool of his own blood.
Flare ignored him for the moment, and shouted, “Kara, Get over here! Now!”
Callin had felt the sharp pain of the impact of the arrow on his back. Almost immediately, the pain lessened and went cold. He could still feel the arrow sticking out of his back, but it didn't seem to hurt anymore. Numbness slowly settled in on his shoulders and Callin smiled at the lessening of the pain. As he lay on the stone, it seemed such a relief that the pain was gone. His realm of vision slowly shrunk into nothing.
Kara came running down the battlements, but before she could reach the soldiers, Callin breathed his last breath and slipped into death’s cold embrace.
It was several hours past midnight, when Flare finally made it to bed. He was sleeping in the house that had formerly belonged to Colonel Holt.
Trestus had demanded the right to prepare Callin’s body for burial. He took his brother's body, and locked himself in the temple to grieve. He had refused to allow the other guardians to enter.
Flare had talked to the other guardians, trying to raise their spirits. Trying to encourage his fellow soldiers had been tough, since he was so shaken up by Callin’s death, and since they had no idea if Heather had escaped the barrier.
Soldiers under his command had died earlier in the day, but this death was so personal. Callin had been a comrade in arms, a friend, and he was not sure how to deal with his friend's death. He was depressed and the stress was beginning to show. The stress of being in command, the probable annihilation of the fort, and the death of Callin were causing him to question himself and his abilities.
The mood of Flare’s fellow guardians was not good, and he was worried about the soldiers' morale. He knew that depressed soldiers did not fight well.
Flare had been in bed for about five minutes, lying in the dark and trying to go to sleep. It was pitch black and he was dead tired, but sleep was the farthest thing from his mind. His shoulders and legs had passed the sore stage, and were now in the dull aching stage. He tried to ignore the aching, and instead thought about the defensive arrangements for the following day.
Lying on his back, deep in thought, he heard a noise come from outside the bedroom door. Guards were stationed outside the entrance to the house, so nobody should have been able to enter. The door opened, and somebody was silhouetted in the door. Before Flare even had a chance to think about it, he uttered a simple magic spell that caused the room to burst forth with light. “Il-lum.” He was half way out of bed moving toward his sword, when he realized that it was Murleen that had entered the room. He breathed a sigh of relief, and was about to speak, when he noticed the confused look on her face.
“Murleen. What’s the matter?” Flare asked, getting nervous, he hadn’t even bothered to clothe himself.
“You used magic.” Murleen said quietly. “The use of magic is forbidden to warriors.”
Flare opened his mouth to deny it, and then closed his mouth just as fast. What was the use of denying something that didn’t matter anyway? “Why is it forbidden, do you know?”
“The prophecies. They say that the restorer of the Dragon Order will bring war, death, and disaster upon us.” Murleen paused, and looked hesitant. “Are you the one prophesied about?”
Flare smiled. “No Murleen, I’m not. I guarded Cassandra as part of my training, and I must have picked some of the spells up. When you opened the door, instinct took over and I spoke the spell.” He shrugged his shoulders. “That’s all.” He tried to sound confident, but he didn't think he did a very good job. Murleen didn’t look too sure, and she seemed ready to question it some more, when he spoke again. “Murleen, has something happened?”
“No. Everything’s fine.” She paused, and dropped her eyes to the floor. “Even if Heather makes it, won’t we be dead before she gets back?”
Sighing, he sank back onto the bed. “Murleen, let’s try to prevent that from happening. Okay? All we can do is fight the best fight we can.” He sounded anything but confident, and she could see it also.
“Flare. I know what the goblins do to female captives. Please promise me that you’ll do whatever it takes to prevent that from happening to me. And Flare, I do mean anything.”
The way Murleen said it, made Flare’s heart skip a beat. “Murleen, What are you asking? Are you asking me to kill you?” He asked incredulously.
“If the fort is overrun, and all hope is lost, then yes.” Murleen said quietly. “It would be much quicker than what the goblins would do to me, and less humiliating.”
“If it comes to that, then I will, but let’s keep it from getting there.” To himself, he silently wondered if he would be able to follow through with his promise. Life was not something that elves took lightly. “Is that the only reason you came here?” He asked her, afraid that he would have to talk with her about Callin's death. He didn't want to talk about it. Not yet.
Once again her eyes d
ropped to the floor, and she moved to stand beside the bed. “No. I didn’t want to be alone, and I thought maybe I could spend the night here.” Murleen said.
He was surprised and intrigued at the same time. “Murleen, I don’t think I would be good company tonight. You know with Callin’s death and all.”
Murleen was silent for just a moment, “Flare, I would still like to stay here, even if all we do is sleep.”
Flare considered for just a moment, and then slowly pulled the blanket back as an invitation for her.
Murleen undressed and climbed into bed beside Flare.
Chapter 13
The next day brought a downpour. The clouds of the previous evening turned into a deluge of rain, but the rain only raised the moods of the fort’s defenders. The rain would make it easier for the defenders and much harder for the attackers.
Flare arrived at the western wall shortly after dawn, and was pleased to see the rain had changed the ground into a soggy muddy mess. There would be no siege towers approaching the fort today.
Scanning the valley, his pleasure grew when the attackers were no where in sight. He could just make out tents on the far end of the valley, just short of the tree line, but those had to belong to the humans, since goblins didn't use tents. Strange that humans were helping the goblins. What was the connection, and why now? He shook his head and went back to scanning the valley. Nothing moved. Smiling, he posted double guards, and left to get out of the rain.
Flare joined the rest of the guardians in the mess hall; everybody but Trestus was already there. Callin's empty seat caused a welling up of remorse, but he pushed it away. There wasn't time for that now, if they survived, then he would deal with the regrets.
The guardians were seated at the officer’s table, away from the rest of the soldiers. They just sat there talking quietly, looking depressed.
“The rain is really coming down out there. I hope the rain will keep the goblins from attacking, but I posted extra guards just to be safe.” Flare said, brushing water from his cloak. “Has anybody seen Trestus today?”
An embarrassed silence engulfed the table. “He’s in the temple, and won’t let anybody inside.” Philip answered.
Flare rubbed his face, sighing. “I don't want to sound callous, but we need him. I'll go talk to him. We should have plenty of advance notice of an attack. But if anything happens, let me know immediately.” Reaching down, he grabbed a hunk of bread and a slice of ham, and then strode from the hall.
The temple was located at the center of the fort, and looked simply ancient. It was built of weathered stone, and was several stories tall. All the windows were on the second floor or higher, and only the entrance on the front of the building allowed access. Flare gave the building's construction an appreciative glance, and thought that it would make an excellent place for a last stand, if it came to that.
He climbed the steps to the temple entrance, and banged on the heavy oaken door.
Silence greeted Flare’s knock, and he knocked again.
He waited several more moments, before deciding to take action. ‘Well. If he won’t let me in, then I’ll let myself in.’ He gave the door a mighty kick, and only managed to start his ankle throbbing. 'Fool!' He cursed, hopping on one foot.
There was no lock on the door, but when he peered through the cracks, he could just make out a bar on the other side. The temple had not been built to resist thieves, since no respectable thief would rob a temple. After some close inspection, he discovered that there was a narrow gap between the door and the door jam. He slid his sword into the narrow gap, and attempted to lift the restraining bar. After a lot of lifting and grunting, the bar crashed noisily to the floor inside the temple. Pushing the door open, Flare slipped in.
The majority of the first floor of the temple consisted of one large chamber. There was a small foyer, which led to the main chamber. The main chamber was full of wooden pews lined up in rows on either side of the walkway. At the end of the walkway, was an altar and a lectern. The interior shutters were all closed on the windows, and the interior of the temple was remarkably dark. Several candles were lit, and placed on the altar.
Lying on the altar was Callin’s body. The body was covered with a bloody blanket, leaving only his head exposed.
Grief settled on Flare. Until now, out of necessity, he had managed to block out most of last night, but Callin's body drove those emotions home. Seeing his friend's open empty eyes caused his eyes to tear up. He stood there thinking about the brave soldier who had given his life for the soldiers of the fort. A deep gnawing doubt growing in his stomach.
“It should have been me,” Flare murmured.
Trestus was sitting on the first pew, with his head resting in his hands. Flare hadn’t even noticed him. Without moving, Trestus said, “Go away Flare. I want to be alone with Callin.” His voice was past being choked up, and seemed tired and dry.
Hating himself for what he had to do, Flare spoke. “Trestus, we need you. Callin gave his life for us, and if you hide in here then it was wasted.”
Trestus bounded to his feet, and shouted, “Hiding! I’m not hiding. I’m trying to think of a way to let my mother know that her youngest son is dead. How do I tell her that? How do I tell her that I failed Callin?” Trestus’ voice cracked, and he fell to his knees sobbing.
Flare approached and placed his hand on Trestus’ shoulder. “Trestus. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.” He paused and chose his words carefully. “We need you. As inexperienced as we are, we are the leaders, and we need you if we are to hold the fort. You didn’t fail Callin; he made the ultimate sacrifice for us.” He paused, blinking back tears. “He died a hero, and now you must make a smaller sacrifice. You must give up this period of mourning, and honor Callin by helping us lead.”
Trestus raised his eyes; tears were still streaming down his face. “How can I go on living without him?”
“Because,” Flare said, more roughly than he intended, “You have no choice.”
There was no attack that day. Apparently, the downpour and the mud kept the attackers away.
The mood of the soldiers rose initially with the rain, but as the day slowly drug on, the soldiers got restless, minor scuffles broke out. Flare was forced to inflict harsh and quick punishment, in the hopes of preventing further fights.
Trestus emerged from the temple, and spoke briefly with the other guardians. He then left to get some much-needed sleep.
The rain didn’t let up until late in the evening, when it slowed to a drizzle. A couple of hours before midnight Flare and Atock were standing on the eastern wall observing the sky.
“It looks like the rain might stop.” Flare said. “What do you think?”
Atock studied the sky, before he answered, “Judging by the clouds, you're probably right.” After several moments, he spoke again, “You think they'll attack in the morning?”
Flare looked over the wall at the ground far below. “Possibly, but the ground will still be a mess. Maybe later in the day. Even then, we should have a distinct advantage.” He said.
Atock considered, “Do you think we have a chance of coming out alive?”
Flare knew he should have said 'yes' immediately, but Atock was one of the few that he felt he could speak honestly with. “Is there a chance?” Flare repeated. “There is a chance. If Heather escaped through the enemies' line alive, and if she can find General Andatell quickly, and if he can reach here with his troops in time. Yes, Atock, there is a chance, but I'm not holding out hope.” He didn't look at Atock, but he could feel the other man's eyes on him, and another pang of guilt hit him. He had failed Callin, and perhaps he had just failed Atock, perhaps it would have been better just to lie.
They stood there for several moments before Flare spoke again. “Atock, would you see to assigning guards? I want to get some sleep.”
“Sure. Good night.”
Flare returned to his newly claimed quarters, intending to go straight to bed. The long day of
keeping the troops in line had wore him out as much as the fighting had done the day before.
He entered through the rear door, and headed straight for the stairs. Halfway up the stairs, Flare froze. The door to the bedroom was closed, but there was light coming from underneath the door.
Standing as still as stone, he listened for any sound. After several seconds, Flare noticed shuffling sounds coming from his bedroom.
Drawing his sword quietly, he finished climbing the stairs. It seemed that every board squeaked as he stepped on them. He approached slowly, listening for any disturbance. He reached the door, and rested his ear against it, but the sounds had stopped.
Flare waited for several more seconds, but the sounds were not repeated. Taking a deep breath, he kicked the door open. He dove into the room, rolled over, and came quickly to one knee.
“Nice roll. Very cute.” Murleen said from where she lay on the bed.
Flare shoulders slumped, and he placed the point of the sword on the floor and leaned on the hilt. “You scared me half to death. I didn’t know you were in here.” It was a measure of his extreme tiredness that he hadn't even thought of Murleen being in the room.
“Well, who did you expect?” Murleen asked, indignantly. “When I saw that long hard sword, I was hoping that perhaps you wanted to do more than sleep this time.” She said, pouting.
Flare smiled, and began taking off his clothes.
Flare’s fears were not realized, as it continued to rain throughout the next day.
Trestus rejoined the guardians, apparently having forced the emotion away, at least for now. He joined in with the planning and seemed totally engrossed in the conversation. He did not, however, take part in any of the humorous banter.
The Guardians: Book One of the Restoration Series Page 22
