Rayome watched as one in five members of Lorta’s cavalry fell to the wall guard’s incessant barrage of musket and cannon fire.
“Where is the siege engine?” he snapped at Salache.
Mistaking his frustration for concern over their losses, the General appeared not to have taken offense. “There.” He threw a thumb over his shoulder, eyes not moving from the fighting in front of them.
Rayome glanced at a long wagon pulled by upwards of twenty oxen. It had stopped just behind the vanguard and was being hastily dismantled, falling wooden walls revealing an iron beam as long as a tree and ending in a blunt mallet-like head. The enormous metal column hung by hundreds of cables from a wheeled metal frame, and sprouted smaller bars from its sides to accommodate dozens of pushing soldiers.
Rayome turned from the battering ram and focused on the fifty foot tall, iron, double-doors that were Salatia Taeo’s east gate. It was a different shade than the city’s Eralium wall, even in the dark. How many times had he passed through the gate and not taken notice? For years, part of the Aldor sprouted up from the ground to mark its grave, and for years Rayome had missed it.
He glanced at the siege engine, tapping his foot. It would be several minutes before it was ready. Rayome shut his eyes, hoping the Voice would show him a vision of Kaiden and what he was planning, but nothing came. After a few minutes of waiting, he found himself wishing for a vision of Gevan. It wasn’t the first time that his guilt had driven him to that, and as was the case with Kaiden, the Voice remained silent save for a trickle of rage that dampened his remorse. Gevan had betrayed him. He had earned his fate, the Voice almost whispered.
But he is your son, Gevan’s Father shouted up from deep within Rayome’s consciousness.
“Was my son,” Rayome whispered to himself. He’s dead now, and with him whatever was left of the man, Rayome Saetala. “I am the Medasylas,” he whispered, “harbinger of Salatia Taeo’s destruction.”
The fighting at the gate intensified, Aukasian muskets and flintlock pistols were answering the gunfire of the wall guards. A cannon exploded followed by screams of pain as the wall guard began to bombard the invaders, still no emerald energy bolts.
“I think Commander Trauel succeeded in neutralizing their energy weapons,” Alderman Ekale said, voice sounding hopeful. “See there.” He pointed at an abnormally long wagon being hastily torn apart. “That’s a siege engine. Why would they need a siege engine if they had the energy weapons?”
“And if they are just trying to lull us into a false sense of security?” the forgotten-name general asked.
Ekale shook his head. “What would be the point? With firepower like that, they wouldn’t have to worry much about tactics. They would just plow through the gate and begin taking the city. Praise the Creator! Commander Trauel and General Valek did it!” Alderman Ekale shot Ashra a glance. “Their sacrifice has given us hope.”
Sacrifice? Yuiv registered Ekale’s meaning for the first time. “Is Sitrell dead?”
No one answered him, though the princess did glance at him, her quiet tears had become racking sobs into a hand covering her mouth.
“General Mytan,” Ekale said, “summon all members of the Royal Guard and rally the rest of our soldiers. Reinforce our men at the east gate and continue to pelt the Aukasian army with as much cannon and musket fire as we have ammunition for.”
“And when we run out?” Mytan asked.
“Throw rocks!”
“Yes, Alderman,” the man snapped a brisk salute before jogging back into the palace.
“Kaiden?” Ashra pled.
Ekale’s voice took on a steeled edge. “No one has ever succeeded in laying siege to this city, though many have tried.” He smiled at Ashra. “We may just be able to stand, provided our food reserves outlast theirs.” Alderman Ekale turned back to watching the army. “You haven’t won yet, old friend,” he whispered.
Yuiv glanced out into the darkness, beyond the flickering muskets. Who is he talking to?
The men that fell were unceremoniously replaced by their comrades as an entire battalion wheeled the siege engine into position.
How fortunate for them. Lorta smiled as he watched more and more Aukasian bodies litter the ground. To die in glorious service to their emperor. He would have to order his scribes to discover the names of the fallen so he could publicly honor them. As seven more soldiers dropped while wheeling the siege engine toward the gate, Lorta decided that learning all those names would be a nuisance. Instead, he would make a blanket proclamation.
Yes, that would do.
Several shouts echoed back to Lorta, telling him that the mechanism was finally in place. Nodding to himself in approval, Lorta turned to the Medasylas.
“What now, Sage?” he asked.
The man did not answer. Instead, he dismounted and untied his robe. “Now”―he slid the robe from his shoulders and let it fall around him― “we break through the gate.”
Lorta was surprised to find the old man’s naked torso lean and muscled and what was that? Lorta’s eyes fell on an oddity that was as intriguing as it was grotesque―a sleek, black, metal girdle that wrapped the Medasylas just below his second set of sculpted abs.
Before Lorta could demand an explanation of the thing, the jewel on its front exploded into an angry crimson light. His breath caught as the Medasylas’ eyes burned the same color. Vaekra take me, what is this man? The Medasylas leapt into an impossibly fast run, weaving through the ranks of soldiers, presciently dodging musket and cannon fire that should’ve struck him. Is that belt the source of his power? The Sage ran up to the rear of the siege engine. Surprised soldiers leapt aside as he stepped up to the battering ram and laid both palms on its flat bottom.
And then he pushed.
The tree-length iron column swung so fast the soldiers still holding onto the side bars were thrown clear. The battering ram’s flat head struck the gate with a resounding metal clang. The blow was such that the entire right door smashed inward, its top unhinging. The metal ram swung backward and the Medasylas effortlessly caught it, though Lorta knew the thing weighed at least a ton.
His strength is that of a god’s! Lorta gawked.
The Medasylas pushed again, and this time the cords snapped as the battering ram tore free of its metal frame and smashed through what was left of the iron gate. The sounds of a colossal crash resounded over the din of the army as the huge metal missile impacted a building on the other side of the wall. When the noise faded, a plume of dust rose from inside the city.
Lorta turned to look at the Medasylas standing calmly at the rear of the siege engine’s now mangled frame. All was quiet as both the Amigus wall guard and Lorta’s soldiers stood frozen, thousands of mouths agape.
“Into the city!” Salache bellowed.
The command snapped his soldiers out of their stupor, and they surged forward into the city. Lorta quickly found six of his Imperial Guard.
“To the palace as quick as you can.” He shouted, though the sprinting of a normal man and even the galloping of horses seemed inadequate after the speed he had seen demonstrated by the Medasylas. “I want the Ruling Council and the princess. Slay anyone else you find, soldier and servant alike.”
The armored knights saluted and then heeled their mounts toward the ruined gate. Salatia Taeo was his, but would that be enough? Lorta turned to stare at the Medasylas’ belt, its red jewel-eye now dim. Would he truly be master of the world while his advisor possessed such magnificent power?
“Dear Creator!” Yuiv heard Alderman Ekale gasp before whirling around and fixing his gaze on Ashra’s scary bodyguard. “Gyaden! Get her out, now!”
The big man saluted and then moved to take Ashra’s arm.
“No, Kaiden!” Ashra sobbed. “Please don’t do this!”
A soft sadness tempered Ekale’s usually stern face. “You must go, my dear. Go far away from this place to somewhere he will never find you.” He looked at Ashra’s bodyguard. “It’s in my office. Take
it and defend her with your life. I will send someone to get your family out.”
Gyaden nodded, his face looking relieved as he gently pulled Ashra away.
“Kaiden!” she sob-screamed.
“I am sorry, my dear,” Kaiden whispered.
“What ‘bout me?” Yuiv asked.
The Alderman seemed to have forgotten he was there.
Ekale looked down at him. “I don’t know who or what you are, but if you have some power to help Ashra, please go with her.”
Not knowing what to do, Yuiv just followed the princess and her protector. Before walking through the arched doorway that led back into the palace, Yuiv paused to look back at Alderman Ekale.
“I’as sorry,” he said, “for alla this.”
Ekale did not hear him, the sounds of battle grew closer and drowned out Yuiv’s apology.
Panic took Yuiv and he felt repelled by the ambience of war, each sword clang an accusation, each dying scream an ode to his crime. Yuiv rushed under the archway and into the palace, his stomach full of icy nausea. He had to get away from it. He had to hide. He couldn’t stand the blaring reminder that this was all his fault.
Yuiv had tears of his own by the time they reached Ekale’s study. Gyaden flew into the room, tore open drawers, and drew out a Niazeride hand unit? Of course, it must have been the one he and Sitrell had brought from Lisidra.
Sitrell! A sudden stab of horror pierced Yuiv’s heart. Was he really dead, his only friend in the world, gone? Everybody leaves me. Yuiv gritted his teeth as more hot tears spilled down his cheeks. First my parents. He sobbed. Then Calid, and now Sitrell.
“The Tayaden passage,” Yuiv heard Gyaden answer a question he had missed. “The entrance is in the top of the north spire, a ladder down to the tunnel is concealed behind a false wall.”
“Gyaden, we can’t leave him,” Ashra pled. “He’s a second father to me!”
“For the greater good, Your Highness,” Gyaden replied.
“Curse the greater good!” Ashra snapped.
“With all due respect, Your Highness,” Gyaden gripped her upper arm. “You are not the only one making sacrifices this day.”
Ashra and Gyaden locked eyes. A tense moment passed before Ashra conceded with a nod.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “May the Creator deliver your wife and children.”
Gyaden led them out of Alderman Ekale’s office. The sounds of shouting, sword clashes, and screaming grew ever closer as the three jogged through a maze of candle-lit hallways. Ashra stumbled along as she had to hike the hem of her long, blue gown with one hand to avoid tripping while at the same time holding her crown on her head, though it fit so snugly that it didn’t look like it would fall off. They took a winding route through back corridors and servant’s stairwells until they reached the ground floor and the palace lobby. Yuiv’s blood chilled upon seeing a group of six Aukasian knights fighting a group of Royal Guardsmen in the entrance way. Although the contingent of men in white uniforms was three times the number of knights, the six Imperial Guards looked as though they were sparring with students rather than fighting enemies.
“Shards of the Crystal Star!” Gyaden swore as he broke into a full run. Ashra almost tripped as he dragged her behind him.
Yuiv followed suit, easily matching Gyaden’s stride. “Imperial Guard,” Yuiv said. As if Yuiv’s words had been a beckoning shout, one of the knights raised a sword to point at them. Two of his comrades finished slaughtering their opponents and rallied to the pointing knight.
“Shards!” Gyaden yelled louder. “They saw us!”
He redoubled his run, weaving behind massive marble columns so fast that he nearly dragged Ashra across the tiled floor. Gyaden barreled for one of the alcove-like doors lining the right side of the huge chamber. Stairs on the right lead up to the light, but stairs on the left lead down and out of sight. They were heading up to the north spire. Although not yet winded, Yuiv was not relishing the idea of trying to outrun Imperial Guard while climbing stairs to the highest floor in the palace.
Gyaden kicked open a wooden door with so much force that it cracked in half and broke free from its hinges. It collapsed inward and had scarcely struck the ground when the three of them rushed into the stairwell. Yuiv looked up at an endless staircase that spiraled up out of sight. We have to climb that? Gyaden handed Ashra the Niazeride weapon and motioned up the stairwell. Ashra took the weapon in her right hand while hiking her gown above her knees with her left.
With Ashra in the lead and Gyaden trailing protectively in the rear, the three scrambled up the iron staircase. Four flights up, his legs already started to burn. Voices resounded from the bottom of the stairwell—voices with clipped cadences.
No. His urgent fear exploded into a full panic. Three members of the Imperial Guard, rushed up the first flight of stairs, curved blades drawn and already covered with blood. Their armor seems to be slowing them, perhaps we can outrun them. It became apparent that his assumption was a fallacy as the three knights moved up the stairs at an astonishing rate.
“Ashra!” Yuiv heard Gyaden yell. “Use the hand unit!”
Ashra stopped on the landing just above, letting her gown drop to her feet and leaning over the inner railing as she took aim at the stairs below. She fired once, the ill-aimed energy bolt sailing into the stone wall and throwing up such debris that their pursuers were forced to stop and take cover. The surprise of the blast mixed with the resounding crack of stone startled the princess and the Niazeride weapon slipped from her hand. Yuiv’s heart stopped as the weapon tumbled over the rail and clattered several times against stairs and walls before crashing to the bottom of the stairwell. The sound of breaking glass told Yuiv that the Niazeride hand unit’s barrel had shattered, rendering the weapon useless.
“Gyaden,” Ashra half whispered, her face looking horror-struck.
The bald, muscular man hesitated only a second before shoving Yuiv aside and racing up the stairs to the princess.
“Forgive me, Your Highness,” Gyaden said as he stepped behind her and tore the back of her dress apart. She gasped as he proceeded to strip her down to her petticoat and corset.
Yuiv blushed as he looked away from the odd sight of Ashra in her undergarments, silver crown looking incongruous atop her head.
“Now run!” Gyaden shouted as he took the torn dress from the floor and threw it over the stair’s inner rail.
Ashra ran up the stairs, no longer hindered by her gown. Yuiv made to follow when Gyaden caught hold of his arm and looked him sternly in the face.
“There is a store room at the top of this tower. Get inside, lock the door, and then move to the back of the room…”
“But―”
“Just listen!” snapped Gyaden. “There is a false wall that you can open by pushing on the right side. Behind the wall is a ladder. Take the princess down that ladder, through the tunnel, and don’t stop until you are outside the city.”
“You’as want me to take’d her?” Yuiv’s mind felt sluggish, as though he were hearing Gyaden’s words underwater.
Gyaden drew his sword. “Go!” he pushed Yuiv toward the next flight of ascending stairs.
Yuiv obeyed, flying up the steps and catching up to Ashra who had not yet looked back.
When they reached the next landing, she asked, “Where’s Gyaden?”
Yuiv did not have to answer when Ashra saw Gyaden standing on the landing below, sword ready as he stood in a practiced battle stance.
“Gyaden!” she screamed.
“Get her out!” Gyaden shouted at Yuiv as one of the knights rushed him.
Yuiv grabbed Ashra’s wrist and pulled the sobbing princess toward the top of the stairs. It only took a moment for her to stop fighting him before they both resumed their panicked climb. Yuiv shuddered as he heard swords cross, and he had to will himself not to look back as the sounds of sword clangs, grunts, and battle cries echoed up the stairwell. Five minutes of desperate clambering brought them to the storeroom
at the top of the spire. Yuiv wrenched open the wooden door and shoved Ashra inside. He ducked in after her and pulled it shut, muting Gyaden’s dying scream.
Yuiv locked the door and tried to ignore Ashra’s sobbing as he pushed at the wall at the back of the room. Scarcely a minute passed before the sound of an armored shoulder smashing against the storeroom door made them both jump. Ashra screamed as the door splintered and dust puffed from its frame.
“Shards!” Yuiv grumbled as he pushed harder. He had found the seam of the false wall, but it wouldn’t give. It likely had been years since the passage was opened, hinges needing oil as dirt and grime caked into the seam. Yuiv stepped back and threw his shoulder at the wall. The hidden door opened inward, and he stumbled forward into darkness and crashed to a dusty, stone floor. At the same time he heard the crunch of breaking wood as an Imperial Guard broke into the room. Yuiv turned over on the ground and found that the door had closed itself―likely the hinge was spring loaded, hiding Ashra and the storeroom from his view.
Ashra screamed from the other side of the wall and Yuiv leapt to his feet.
And then he froze.
What was he going to do? Fight three Imperial Guards? Sitrell had been anxious at the thought of fighting just one.
He heard armor clank and Ashra shriek before a voice with a sharp choppy accent said, “She’s a pretty one, and look, she’s half naked already.”
Ashra shrieked again, this time more urgently. He took a step toward the wall but again froze. What could he do? If he made himself known, it wouldn’t help Ashra, he would just get himself killed.
“Stop that!” another voice commanded. “She’s for the Arch Sage.”
Arch Sage?
“What about the boy?” a third voice asked as someone draw near the false wall. “How did he get out of this room?”
“Let him starve in his hiding place,” The first knight said as Ashra’s sobbing began to fade into the stairwell. “I am too tired to go chasing after the little coward.”
Heroes of the Crystal Star (Valcoria Book 1) Page 32
