by J. P. Ashman
Fal realised this was no spur of the moment riot that would soon pass. These people wanted revenge for the deaths in their neighbourhoods. They'd clearly been told the guild was responsible for the plague and they were hell-bent on destroying the ancient tower and its inhabitants.
‘We need a battle mage,’ Fal shouted, as he arrived back at the gate.
‘Finally,’ the nearest crossbowman said, as he took out a man holding a slingshot.
One of the men who'd been in the shield wall, but who now stood in loose formation, ran up the steps and into the tower to request help. Fal hadn’t wanted any mages outside during the riot, since he felt they would become prime targets, but with a very real risk of fire, he needed at least one here to douse any fire with water, just as Severun had done in the coach on Kings Avenue.
The rioters had lost their fear now and had stormed the gate, attempting to pull it down. The guild’s men shouted warnings, but despite their loaded crossbows and drawn weapons, those warnings did nothing to hold back the fury of the citizens.
Every time someone tried to climb the gate, the two gate guards would shove the climbers off with the butts of their goedendags, rather than the spiked ends. The great wolf-hounds went berserk, pulling on their ropes and standing on their back legs, straining every muscle to get at the rioters who shook the bars of the gate and screamed in anger. The dog handler was doing all he could to hold the animals back.
‘They’ll have it down Fal,’ Sav shouted, and Fal could see the large locking bars bow under the pressure of so many people.
‘If they get in, we’re all dead,’ Sav added, in all seriousness.
There must have been close to a hundred people now; screaming, throwing missiles and working themselves into a frenzy. The weight of those at the front pressing and pulling on the gates offered a very real risk; if they broke through, Fal agreed with Sav, they wouldn’t stand a chance and nor would the guild.
‘Men-at-arms back. Handler…’ Fal waited until Sav and the others were about ten paces back from the gate before he gave the next command, ‘…release!’
The handler turned to look at Fal and waited until his sergeant nodded before letting the ropes go. The three large dogs lunged forward as their ropes were released. They leapt at the iron bars and the people pressed up against them. The great hounds barked, snarled and bared their fangs as they snapped at the people through the gates. A couple of people were bitten and their screams of pain and terror caused those pressing on the gates to back off quickly. The dogs refused to release the two they held and the third dog snapped its strong jaws as it shoved its head through the gaps in the bars. The handler yelled a command and the two dogs holding the men let go, returning to snarling, barking and jumping up as they tried their very best to get at the now taunting crowd. The two bitten men, their arms a mess of blood and gore, disappeared into the still growing crowd who parted to make way for them, cheering them as they passed.
‘Sarge,’ the man-at-arms who’d gone to get help from the tower shouted. Fal turned to see Ward Strickland himself emerge, a dark cloak wrapped tightly around him. Fal waved the magician over and walked to the side of the gate, taking shelter behind the wooden palisade by the ladder as more stones flew through the air.
The crowd hissed, shouted curses and some chanted as more threw missiles. They’d clearly seen the mage appear in the tower’s doorway. Ward was immediately surrounded by six shielded men-at-arms and walked to Fal’s hidden position. As he neared Fal, another fire bottle flew over the wall above his head, the thrower realising the crossbowmen were out of sight because of the dogs.
Ward swiftly pulled a gnarled, wooden wand from his sleeve and pointed it at the flying bottle whilst uttering a string of words Fal hadn’t heard before.
The bottle stopped in mid-air.
The magician uttered another word that put out the flaming rag stuffed down the bottle’s neck and then, as he put the wand back into his sleeve, the bottle dropped harmlessly into his outstretched hands.
Now that’s impressive. Fal struggled, but managed to keep the smile from his face.
Ward shook his head as he placed the bottle on the floor behind the palisade. ‘I see why you called for a mage, sergeant. These people will have the whole place alight if they continue to throw these about and it just won’t do. It’s bad enough they blame the guild in general for what happened, but this is disgraceful. They know full well what fire can do to a city.’
The rioters carried on chanting whilst more threw rocks, empty bottles and anything they could get their hands on. One clay jug smashed as it hit a man-at-arms’ shield held above his head, whilst another was less fortunate; there were oil lamps on posts as well as torches lit throughout the courtyard, but the sporadic lighting made it hard to see projectiles until the last minute, and one of the crossbowmen was hit in the face by a sharp stone which took his left eye.
The crossbowman, his face awash with blood, tried his best but failed not to cry out. He was quickly escorted inside and rushed down to clerics awaiting injuries in the barracks below the tower.
‘Lord Strickland,’ Fal said, ‘this is getting out of hand. By the sound of it, the numbers out there are increasing. Our deterrents of dogs and crossbows will only last so long.’ Fal was clearly agitated. Ward nodded, his eyes turning from Fal to look at the tower where the men-at-arms stood, shields high and weapons unsheathed; ready to protect the door should anyone break through the gate or climb over the walls. The dogs still barked and yet more howling and barking came from the back of the tower, out of view. Ward shook his head and sighed.
‘I will address the crowd, sergeant, which will do one of two things, either antagonise them or disperse them.’
Fal sighed and shook his head. ‘I’ve already tried, my lord.’ Fal’s patience was wearing thin. He was usually calm and collected in dangerous situations, but it felt like the whole city was against them and that scared him; more so because it was his home and these people his fellow citizens, not some unknown enemy.
‘But you, sergeant, cannot do this.’ Ward closed his eyes, took out his wand and muttered a few words under his breath. The wand’s tip emitted a hazy azure mist which the magician inhaled. He smiled at Fal and began speaking in an amplified voice that made Fal, all of his men and the crowd outside, jump. The dogs fell quiet, both at the gate and from the back of the tower, and the handlers, along with their dogs and their escorts, came back around the tower to see who was addressing the crowd in such a way.
‘Silence,’ Lord Strickland commanded.
The mob outside obeyed.
The dogs whined and the handler by the gate took the opportunity to take hold of their loose ropes whilst the crowd was inactive. People looked all around for the source of the voice, but none dared utter a single word.
‘My name is Lord Strickland, council member of this guild and Lord High Chancellor.’
Some people gasped whilst others raised hands to their mouths, all of them realising one of the King’s own high lords was addressing them. A handful of young gangers tried to start a chant, but were silenced by deadly looks from the majority of the crowd.
‘You have come here to seek revenge for the plague affecting us all. You may have lost neighbours, friends, even family members and you despair at what has befallen your home. Well hear this, citizens of Wesson, this is our home as much as it is yours. The mages of this guild work within the law and serve the King and his people, including all of you present tonight.’
‘The plague was created by your mages!’ an unseen man from the back of the crowd shouted. Fal motioned for Sav to keep his eyes out for ring leaders.
‘A half-truth!’ Ward bellowed, his voice echoing around both the courtyard and street outside. ‘You have heard rumours of arcane magic and diseases, of evil wizards and plots against the people of this city, maybe against the King himself. Well, I am here, on King Barrison’s own orders, to tell you otherwise.’
The crowd fell silent
again, the only noise coming from boots on stone as feet shuffled, as well as the occasional whining of the wolf-hounds, now sat by their handlers’ feet.
‘It is true this plague has been brought to us unnaturally,’ Ward continued. ‘It has been brought to us through the use of arcane magic—’
The noise increased again as people began to whisper. The odd person shouted that the guild was indeed to blame, but all fell silent once more as Lord Strickland shouted out with his amplified voice.
‘I asked for silence!’
He climbed the ladders and shrugged off Fal, who’d tried to discourage him. Fal motioned to his crossbowmen to move closer to the gate and stand ready.
People gasped and some, the closest ones to the wall, backed away when they saw the silhouetted figure appear where Fal had been just moments before.
Once at the top of the ladder, his body clearly halfway above the protective wall, Ward – wand delicately held in his left hand between his forefinger and thumb – inhaled more of the gaseous substance subtly emanating from the wand’s tip. He addressed the crowd face to face, his voice now louder than ever; so much so that shutters opened on upper story windows of the surrounding buildings, allowing the residents to witness the unusual spectacle.
‘Let me tell you the truth, citizens of Wesson, as the King wishes it. Not the babblings of drunkards in taverns or the gossips of coach drivers on the streets, but the truth; the facts!
‘Lord Severun, The Grand Master of the royally aligned Wizards and Sorcery Guild has erred in his work. An error costing many, many lives and one that will cost more, especially if tonight’s proceedings are anything to go by.’
Several people hung their heads in shame and some even laid down whatever weapons, makeshift or otherwise, were in their hands.
‘His own life is now forfeit, for he has broken a most ancient law; the law regarding the use of arcane magic. The King and his advisors, including myself, have judged Lord Severun meant well with his experiment. He intended to rid the city of its violent criminals. Lord Severun worked these past months hoping to find a way to make each and every one of Wesson’s law abiding citizens safer in their homes, in their streets and wherever they may go in their city…’ Ward let that sink in a moment, before continuing.
‘Unfortunately, his ways were misguided and he failed, and through his failure he released this plague; something which he could not have foreseen and for which he is truly mortified.
‘The King and my fellow advisors, after many, many years working with and as a friend to Lord Severun, have judged no matter the reasons, no man or woman… of any race, shall practice or use arcane magic in this kingdom. Therefore, Lord Severun is to be executed, as is stated by law, tomorrow in Execution Square at midday.’
There were several gasps from both the crowd and Fal’s men.
Ward inhaled more of the gas from his wand as the noise increased. ‘He is to be burnt at the stake by the Samorlian Church as is their duty, to protect the city under the King’s orders from arcane magic and its users.’
Several people, upon hearing the facts and the outcome, shook their heads. One woman even sobbed, her head buried in her hands. Many cheered, however, briefly, but cheered all the same.
‘It is with great regret,’ Ward’s voice boomed again, ‘that we carry out the execution of someone who devoted himself to making life better for this city, nay this kingdom and its people, but the law stands and must be obeyed. This is why now, instead of tomorrow as was planned, I address you with the truth as declared by our King.
‘So, citizens of Wesson…’ Ward’s voice, although still amplified, lowered to a calm, peaceful tone, ‘I bid you go home. Do not cause any more suffering tonight. Allow the City Guard and the clerics of this guild to fight the real enemy, the plague stalking our streets and homes.’
‘Yeah… home!’ a stocky man with gold teeth shouted. ‘To your homes people, there’s no enemy here!’ He bared those teeth and looked at the people around him in a challenging manner. No one argued. Throwing down a bloodied, thick wooden stick he’d been carrying, he walked away. The crowd parted as he went.
Many agreed and followed suit, throwing down whatever was in their hands; heads down or talking to their companions about what they'd just heard, they left the scene.
‘I’ll see revenge tomorrow at midday,’ a woman shouted, her face streaked with tears, ‘for the loss of my husband!’ Another woman nearby put her arm around the first’s shoulders and walked her away.
The street remained crowded, but people scattered slowly as they tried to find those they knew to walk back with. Some looked angry still and just stood, staring at the gates and the men-at-arms beyond. Fal decided some of these would have been the ringleaders; the gangers responsible for the original patrol’s deaths, but he dared not act for fear of antagonising the dispersing crowd. He gritted his teeth and merely watched, albeit with a heavy heart, as those men eventually turned and left.
Most headed towards Dockside, but some Fal noticed walked the other way, and he was surprised other district’s residents had been present at the riot.
Severun, what have you done to this city?
Ward slipped his wand back into his cloak, sighed and turned, looking down at Fal, his voice normal again as he spoke. ‘We were lucky, sergeant. I feared that could have gone either way.’
‘It worked, my lord, that’s the main thing.’ Fal allowed himself a genuine smile.
Ward climbed down from the wall and clasped Fal’s shoulders with his hands. ‘It’s been a strange and no doubt hard day for you Sergeant Falchion, as it has for many of us and I fear it won’t end here. You’ve done well today, for your guild and King, and he is truly grateful for your actions in bringing Lord Severun and Master Orix in, I promise you that.’
‘They came in—’
‘Yes, I know they came in willingly, but it was your persuasion and investigations, as well as that elf friend of yours, that stopped this thing getting any further out of hand; not that it isn’t a disaster already, but at least we have Master Orix and his clerics working against the disease now.’ Ward released Fal’s shoulders and wrapped his cloak tight about himself once more.
‘What’s happening regarding Errolas?’ Fal asked desperately, for he'd heard nothing of the elf since he'd been summoned by King Barrison.
‘All in good time, sergeant. He is safe and well, that is all you need to know for now.’
‘Very well my lord…’ Fal paused before his next question. ‘I feel for Lord Severun, to be burnt… it seems so wrong, don’t you think so, my lord?’
Ward took a deep breath and let it out slowly. ‘That it does, sergeant, but Lord Severun knew the risks when he delved into arcane magic. He may have meant well, but he knew the risks involved… not only to himself, but to the city too. Now,’ Ward continued, managing a weak smile, ‘I assume you will set a doubled guard or whatever you do tonight, and then get some rest? It may not be what you want and I am sorry to be the one to tell you this, sergeant, but you are requested to be at Execution Square tomorrow, at midday.’
Fal’s face dropped, his stomach churned and it was all he could do not to allow his anger to show through. He wanted to argue, but knew it was pointless. So he swallowed hard and simply nodded.
And so I follow orders without question, as always.
‘I’m sorry again sergeant, now go to bed, get some sleep and we will talk again tomorrow. You will ride with me to the palace in the morning and will, along with your scout over there, be amongst the escort taking Lord Severun through the city to meet his end.’ Ward Strickland smiled sympathetically and then turned and walked back to the tower’s door, the six shield-bearers surrounding him once again as he did so.
Elsewhere in the city, another horn sounded and Fal knew the night was far from over for most. He transferred command to another sergeant-at-arms and retired to the barracks. Sav had been unusually quiet whilst following Fal into and down through Tyndurris, alwa
ys a pace behind, and no words were spoken between the two as they both dropped heavily onto the first available bunks. Despite their exhaustion, sleep didn’t come easy to either of them. They knew what was awaiting them the following day and neither wanted it to come.
Starks, the young crossbowmen injured in the coach crash, an event that seemed so long ago, lay in the bunk next to Fal’s. He was fast asleep, and in his inability to do the same, Fal looked across at the young man and made a note to formally commend him as soon as it was all over.
Whenever that will be…
***
The night held a chill that clung to Elleth’s bones as she slowly made her way through the streets of Dockside. She knew where she was going and she forced the tears away.
The women at that place always looked so fine, with powdered faces, big hair and fancy, short dresses. Elleth thought there was no way they’d take her in with a dirty, streaked face. There was a horse trough round the side of the building they usually stood outside and so she decided to make her way towards that.
A girl’s scream made Elleth jump. It came from an alley the other side of the small row of houses. She quickened her pace. The occasional horn or trumpet sounded, and shouting further away in the district had been going on for a while, as had the numerous ganger calls. But that scream was by far the closest she’d heard since she left her mamma.
‘No tears,’ she said under her breath, forcing the thought of her mamma away again and thinking only of the lady she would become.
She was close now; round the next corner and she would be able to sneak down the side, to the horse trough.
‘Want to see somethin’ that’ll make ye groan, girl?’ a man slumped in a doorway said, a black cross above his head, barely visible in the darkness.
She quickened her pace, as fast as she could without breaking into a run.
