“What are they?” asked the young ranger stood next to him. The lad was no more than nineteen years of age and his eyes were wide with panic.
“They were once men, warriors that fought in the wars of old. Their bodies and their souls became the playthings of the foulest magic’s,” Woven replied, his eyes shut as he remembered the tales his grandfather had told him around the fireplace in his youth.
“The legend is that at the final battle of the magic wars the dark mages unleashed their full power against their enemies. They cursed them to forever serve them in death. As the battle raged and more warriors fell, the ranks of the dark mages swelled. Only the defeat of Sivion had saved the day and sent the ghouls and other foul abominations fleeing into the depths of the mountains.”
He patted the young man on the arm and squeezed it reassuringly.
“Do not let fear overwhelm you. Be strong, let your arrows fly true and your sword cut deep,” he said evoking the battle words of the rangers.
He walked along the wall, past the soldiers of Eclin who stood with crossbows and longbows at the ready. He could almost smell their fear. The whole city stank of it for now the city of Eclin was completely surrounded. The pass south had been cut by a horde of zombies. The last group of escaping refuges had not stood a chance. Even the Knights sent to escort them had been overwhelmed. Pulled from their mounts and devoured alive. Their screams were heard from the city walls.
He bounded down a flight of stone steps and made his way through the narrow streets. The jewel in his cloak pocket felt heavy. He was running out of time. Preparing his men and aiding with the city’s defence had taken too much of his time already. He had to find the child and get him to safety.
He rounded a corner and entered a tavern which stood eerily silent. With a city full of soldiers he had expected that most be seeking to get blind drunk before the siege truly began in earnest.
He went through the oak door. Sat at a table close to the door was Briden. The young ranger was staring into a mug of ale. His bow was leaning against the table and his quiver of arrows lay on the ground at his feet.
“Drinking alone? Never a good sign,” Woven chuckled trying to lighten the taverns gloomy mood. He looked around and could not even see the tavern keeper.
“Edrin. The tavern keeper went back into the cellar. He thinks he and his wife will be safe down there if the walls fall,” Briden said waving a hand in the general direction of the bar. “If you want drinks just help yourself.”
Woven was sorely tempted to chug a few pints but resisted the urge. Being drunk wouldn’t change anything. He placed his own bow next to the table before pulling up a stool and taking a seat.
“So..., any luck finding the boy?” Woven asked taking mug from Briden’s hands. He gulped down the bitter ale savouring its taste.
The young ranger nodded in the affirmative.
“Aye. I asked around all of the major housing districts. The boy’s guardian is a clever one. She’s kept to the poorer areas of the city, the places where people don’t tend to talk to authority like figures.” Briden smiled as he gestured to himself. Woven snorted.
“She did however make one mistake.”
“Oh?”
“She didn’t change her accent.’ Briden smiled. ‘The folk living in the old town told me of a girl whose voice was distinctly southern. ‘As though she were from the capital or something’ was how one old sod put it. He also said that she looked a little too young to be the mother of a toddler like the lad she looks after.”
Woven felt a pang of excitement.
“Do you have an address?” the ranger captain asked as he pushed his stool backwards and rose to his feet. He picked up his bow and slung it over his shoulder.
“I do indeed sir.” Briden said proudly. He rooted about inside his cloak pockets until he pulled out a scrap of paper. He handed it to his superior.
Woven unfolded the paper. A name was written on it, the name of a house.
‘Torvig folly’
“Well done Briden,” Woven praised. He turned to leave before facing the younger man. “Get to your post. Getting pissed in the local tavern isn’t going to do anyone any good.”
The ranger captain left to leave Briden staring into his now empty mug of ale.
“Would have made me feel better...” he muttered under his breath.
*
Woven hurried across the city. He was delayed several times by panicked civilians pleading for help. All he could do was point them in the direction of the baron’s castle sat on the bluff overlooking the city. Lido had been generous enough to open the gates to the populace. If things did turn ill however, then it would be at the castle where things would come to an end.
He walked down a narrow lane that ran between two stone buildings until he reached a bridge that crossed a gently flowing stream. On the opposite bank was the old town with its wooden houses and thatched roofs. Woven glanced at the scrap of paper again and read the name out loud. He closed his eyes to get his bearings before heading across the bridge and heading down one of the narrow streets. He had lived in Eclin all his life and knew the city’s streets like the back of his hand.
As a lad he’d been an urchin working for the city’s Fleetfoot chapter. Many a time he and his friends had fled through the winding streets from the city watch. A stolen necklace here, a coin purse there, he had lifted the lot until he was captured. The city’s watch captain, a vile man named Grundil had wanted to take his hands. Only Baron Lido’s clemency had spared him.
The baron in his youth had been a generous man and instead of punishing him he had ordered Woven to be taken into the care of the Rangers. From that day onward his life was full of training with the sword and bow. He had learnt the lay of the land, survival skills and the ability to track virtually anything through the mountains. It had been a tough life, but it was far better than being a dishonourable thief.
The muddy streets were quiet as he walked. Most of the houses lay dark and empty, but a few brave souls had chosen to stay. Grim faced men were armed with shovels, their wives with knifes. Children were hidden from view, probably hiding in basements or roof spaces. They didn’t bother the ranger as he passed by although some called out encouragements.
He was nearing the street on which Torvig folly was located. At the end of the street was a tall wooden structure which housed over a dozen families. Etched onto a plaque of bronze was the building’s name, nearly unreadable thanks to the dirt which covered it.
Woven knocked on the door. If Briden was right then the girl and prince would be inside.
The door creaked open slowly to reveal a young woman. Her long brown hair was tied back with a red bow, her eyes were wide and blue but her most distinctive feature was her small nose and soft lips. The girl was defiantly not from Eclin. She had softness about her that the women of Eclin didn’t, but he could tell she could be feisty from the fire in her eyes.
“Miss.” Woven said with a bow. “I have been instructed to bring you to safety by the Knights of Niveren.”
The girl narrowed her eyes. She had one hand on the door, the other behind her back. Woven smiled. He knew she had a knife in her hand.
“I was told to show you this,” he said as he reached into his cloak and pulled out the glittering Kings jewel. “As proof that I am a friend.”
The girl gasped at seeing the stone. Tears sprung from her eyes. She opened the door.
“I’m sorry” the girl wept. Relief was obvious in her face. “We have run for so long... forgive me. My name is Elena,” she cried, her words coming out all at once. She held up her concealed hand and turned red. In it was a dagger. “Sorry,” she mumbled.
“No harm done,” Woven said reassuringly. He stepped inside the house. It was a simply decorated place with wooden walls that smelt vaguely of damp. A picture was nailed to the wall at the base of a small staircase which led upwards to the roof space. On it was a distinguished looking man with a neatly trimmed beard.
“My father,” Elena explained when she noticed him looking at it. “I haven’t been able to see nor speak with him in three years. I couldn’t risk it.”
A giggle came from the top of the stairs. Woven looked up to see a small boy with blonde curly hair and big blue eyes.
“Alde,” Elena scolded, ‘get back to your room; you know you have to stay out of sight.’ She sighed. “I guess it’s too late now. Pack your travel bag and come downstairs.”
The boy smiled, clapped his hands and disappeared out of sight. The sound of him rummaging about as he sang some shanty caused Woven to chuckle.
“The prince I presume?”
Elena smiled sheepishly.
“Yes. He’s a very wilful little man. “
A few moments later Elena and the prince were dressed for travel. The girl was struggling to put the prince’s boots on as he resisted.
“No Lena, don’t want to go!” the boy cried.
Woven knelt down in front of his future king. Just as he was about to try and distract the boy he felt a warm sensation in his cloak pocket. Curious, he reached into it and pulled out the stone he had found in the sigil caves.
To his amazement the stone was glowing brightly as it had done when he had first found it. He looked from the stone to the boy. The child was staring at it, his eyes wide in wonder. He reached for it and as he did so the stone grew hot, so hot that Woven dropped it with a cry. The boy ignored the ranger and went to pick up the stone which was now shining brightly.
“Alde!” Elena shouted. The prince ignored her and wrapped his small hands around the stone. It didn’t burn him.
***
33.
Woven gawped at the boy. The stone was shining brilliantly in his small hands; the picture of the sword manifested itself as it had done in the sigil caves.
Elena went to take it from the prince’s hands but to her amazement she couldn’t bring her hands close due to the fierce heat that radiated from it. She looked to Woven a look of fear on her face.
“What is that?” she demanded of the shocked ranger.
“I...I found it in a cave in the mountains. It has hasn’t glowed like that since I first found it. It didn’t give off any heat then though,” he replied scratching his head.
“Pretty” Alderlade giggled as he placed it on the floor. As the stone left the prince’s hands the light faded once more. The little boy looked at the stone his mouth agape. When the light didn’t return his bottom lip trembled. “Where it go?”
Elena scooped the boy up into her arms, thankful that he had let go of the mysterious stone. Woven knelt down and tentatively touched it. It was no longer hot, just cool like any normal stone.
“Whatever that thing is, it’s magical. I don’t want it anywhere near Alde,” Elena scolded as she tried to soothe the upset boy who was struggling to get out of her arms and back to the stone.
Woven scooped it up and tucked it back into his robe pocket.
“It seems to like the boy...” he muttered. If he survived the coming days he would be sure to seek answers. An idea popped into his head, perhaps the Knights of Niveren would know what it was.
A loud blast from a horn came from outside the house, then another.
Woven took the girls hand. “We have to get you to the Baron. The attack has begun.”
*
Woven, Elena and the little prince moved quickly through the streets. In the distance they could hear the sounds of soldiers running to their posts on the walls. Terrified civilians were all fleeing towards the Baron’s castle.
He led them through back alleys and took short cuts to avoid the building panicked crowds.
Finally they reached the base of the hill which led up to Lido’s castle. A throng of men, women and children were all jostling to get through the large metal gate house before the soldiers dropped the portcullis.
Woven tightened his grip on Elena’s hand. He pushed and threatened his way through the crowd. The prince was tucked tightly to the girl’s chest, his muffle cries could just be heard over the din.
He drew his sword and used it to shove his way to the front of the crowd. People recoiled from the cold steel making their passage easier.
A nervous angry looking soldier was barring entrance to the courtyard beyond the gate. Standing behind him was a line of other nervous troops, their kite shields locked together and their spears pointed towards the crowd.
“There is no more room!” the soldier bellowed. “Seek shelter in your homes or at the barracks. Keep off of the streets if you value your lives.”
The crowd roared in protest and surged forward. Woven pulled Elena to the side to avoid being trampled. If he didn’t get her and the boy inside the walls soon they would be caught up in a riot. The people’s mood was growing darker by the second as desperation filled them. The moans of the undead being carried on the wind did little to ease their fears.
“Soldier. Get these two inside now!” he shouted in his most authoritative voice.
The solider hesitated. He recognised the ranger.
“I have my orders from the baron himself. There is no more room sir,” the soldier replied with a shout. The angry yells from the crowd were growing in volume.
“Why should his strumpet and bastard be let in?” screamed an elderly man in the crowd.
Others took up his cries of protest. Woven was quickly losing his temper. He grabbed the soldier by his mail shirt and hauled him close so that their faces were mere inches apart.
“The boy is the prince and heir to the crown. Let them in.” He said angrily. The soldier’s eyes widened at the ranger’s words.
Woven gestured to Elena, the girl pulled out the king’s jewel which shone in the sunlight.
“The jewel of the king” the soldier gasped. He pulled away from Woven’s grip and the ranger let him.
“Let these two inside. Make sure they are protected.” The soldier ordered his men.
“Thank you,” Elena cried. The soldiers opened up their shields to allow her and the child to enter. Woven sighed in relief and nodded to the soldier in thanks. He had to reach the walls and the other rangers.
The angry crowd however had other ideas.
“Bastards!” cried a woman who held her crying baby into the air. “Let my son in too, he’s just a baby.”
The crowd surged forward drowning out her pleas. Upon seeing the crowd charge the soldier grabbed Woven and hauled him into the castle courtyard and behind the line of soldiers.
“Drop the portcullis” the soldier cried. Another soldier ran forward, drew his sword and cut the rope which held the large metal gate aloft. The portcullis slammed shut crushing several members of the crowd beneath it. Pained screams and the sickening sound of bodies being crushed under metal filled the air. Blood sprayed the soldiers, some of which vomited at the sight of the broken bodies.
Woven stared at the scene of carnage. The siege of Eclin had just begun, and already hell had arrived.
*
Master Thondril watched the attack from the top of one of the many turrets that lined the city walls. Behind him was a rather nervous looking Ballistae crew. The team of four were all young men of the Eclin watch. No doubt none of the deadly weapons had been fired in anger for over a hundred years. Today, that would all change.
The white mantled knights and sergeants on the wall below loosed arrow after arrow into the oncoming hoard. Tens of thousands of zombies shambled towards the walls their moans echoing off of the surrounding mountain peaks.
“They will never get up the walls.” The knight standing nearest to Thondril said in amazement.
“They aren’t supposed too.” The grandmaster muttered. He had seen such a tactic used before in the last crusade he had led into the mountains. On that occasion he and a hundred of his men had sought shelter in a ruined tower, a relic of the Golden Empire, when the weather had turned. Out of the snow and darkness the enemy had attacked.
“The zombies are to probe for weaknesses in our
defence. Do not be fooled into thinking that there is no intelligence behind this Sir Fronti,” Thondril explained to the younger knight.
Amongst the zombies were werewolves charging forward. Some reached the bottom of the walls and began to climb. Their razor sharp claws acting like climbing picks. The archers on Thondril’s tower shifted their aim and loosed. The volley slammed into a dozen of the beasts sending them tumbling into the mass of undead below.
Volley after volley of arrows lanced downwards into the packed ranks of the enemy. The men on the walls used the flaming braziers to set their arrows aflame and send the fiery death into the undead. The Knights had learnt long ago that only fire destroys the dead.
The smell of cooked undead flesh was carried on the breeze causing the defenders to gag. Some covered their noses with strips of cloth to filter out the foul stench.
Thondril was on the eastern wall facing the mountain passes, from his position he could see that the enemy was slowing in its assaults. He smiled softly to himself. They couldn’t find a weakness there. For a brief moment he thought that the city could hold. Those hopes were dashed when he heard screams coming from the southern walls and the road leading into Delfinnia itself.
He rushed over to the crenulations which faced south to see a huge billow of smoke pouring skywards. He narrowed his eyes. A bright flash struck the gatehouse and a moment later the sound of thunder reached his ears.
“Magic...,” he muttered in understanding at what he was seeing.
He turned to face Sir Fronti who also was watching the carnage on the southern wall.
“Tell half the men on this wall to reinforce the south.” Thondril yelled.
Fonti ran over to the wall and bellowed orders at the men on the walls below. Within moments half of the defenders on the eastern wall were running to the south.
“Sir!” Fronti shouted a tinge of panic in his voice. Thondril ran back to the other wall. He swore under his breath. The enemy had been waiting for such a move. Out of the mountain pass charged the implacable ghouls. Thousands of them marched forwards, in their midst were tall towers made of iron and wood.
Heir to the Sundered Crown (The Sundered Crown Saga) Page 21
