All around him Emery could see the wild looks in the eyes of the men and realized he must wear a similar expression. His heart was pounding, his lungs pumping air. He felt no pain at all from his back now. He felt powerful, elated, and a little nauseous all at the same time.
"Emery! Emery!" He turned to see Arista pushing through the men. "You're too slow," she screamed back at him. "The garrison is coming. Get them armed and formed up in the square."
As if pulled from a dream, Emery realized his folly. "Everyone out!" he shouted. "Everyone out now! Form up on the square!"
***
Arista had already begun organizing those men who remained outside into two lines with their backs to the armory and their faces to the square.
"We need to get weapons!" Perin shouted at the princess.
"Stay in line!" she barked. "We'll have them brought out. You have to maintain the lines to stop the garrison from charging."
The men who stood in line holding only farm tools looked at her terrified as across the square the first of the soldiers struggled to push away the wagons and carts that had been rutted in the mud. Soon the men Emery had shooed out began taking their place in front of the line.
"Form up!" Emery shouted. "Two straight lines."
Arista ran back into the armory and began grabbing swords and dragging them out. She spotted Carat stealing coins from a dead man's purse and shoved him against a wall. "Help me carry swords and shields out!"
"But I'm not allowed to," he said.
"You're not allowed to fight, but you can carry some swords damn it. Just like you unlocked the door. Now do it!"
Carat seemed like he would say something then gave in and started pulling shields down from the walls. Doctor Gerand entered carrying bandages but discarded them quickly to help deliver weapons. On her way out, Arista saw a woman running in. Her dress soaked from the rain, her long blonde hair pasted to her face so that she could hardly see. She stopped abruptly at her approach.
"Let me help," she said to Arista. "You get more while I pass these out."
Arista nodded and handed over the weapons then ran back inside.
Carat handed her the stack of shields he was carrying and she ran them down to the young woman, who in turn took them to the waiting line. When Arista came out again she found a line of older men and some women had formed up and were passing the weapons like a bucket brigade with the young blonde adding more to the line.
"More swords!" Arista shouted. "Helms and mail last."
Carat assembled weapons into manageable piles for the others to grab.
"No more swords!" The call soon came. "Send shields!"
The bell in Central Square began to ring, its tone sounding different that morning than any other, perhaps due to the heavy rain or the pounding of blood in her ears. Most men on the line only held a sword. Arista could see fear in every face.
She could hear Emery's voice drifting above the rain with each delivery. "Steady! Dress those lines. Tighten that formation," he barked the orders like a veteran commander. "No more than a fist's distance between your shoulders. Those with spears or pikes to the rear line, those with shields to the front. Wait! Halt!" he shouted. "Forget that. Back in line. Just pass the spears back and hand the shields forward."
With the next delivery of weapons Arista paused at the armory doorway and looked out across the square. The garrison had cleared the wagons from King's Street and a few soldiers entered. They looked briefly at the lines of townsfolk then went to work to clear the other carts.
Emery stood in front of the troops. Everyone had a sword or spear but most did not know how to wield them properly. Nearly all the men in the front row held a wooden shield, but most simply held them in their hands. In at least one man's case, he had his shield upside down.
"Adam the Wheeler, front and center!" Emery shouted and the middle-aged wheelwright stepped forward. "Take the left side and see that the men know how to wear their shields and hold their swords." Emery likewise called Renkin Pool and Forrest the silversmith's son into action and set them to dressing the line.
"Keep your shield high," Adam was shouting. "Don't swing your sword—thrust it instead. That way you can maintain tighter formations. Keep the line tight, the man next to you is a better shield than that flimsy bit of wood in your hands! Stay shoulder to shoulder!"
"Don't let them turn the flank!" Renkin was shouting on the other side of the line. "Those on the ends turn and hold your shields to defend from a side assault. Everyone must move and work together!"
Helms and hauberks were coming out now and there were a few in the front row hastily pulling chain mail netting over their heads.
A surprising number of imperial soldiers already formed themselves into rows on the far side of the square. Each one impeccably dressed in hauberk, helm, sword, and shield. They stood still, straight, and confident. Looking at Emery's men, Arista saw nervous movements and fear-filled eyes.
Four knights rode into the square. Two bore the imperial pennant at the end of tall lances. On the foremost horse rode Sheriff Vigan. Beside him came Trenchon, the city's bailiff, splashing through the puddles. Hooked to Vigan's belt, in addition to his sword, was the whip. Vigan's face was stern and unimpressed by the hastily assembled slightly skewed lines of peasants. He rode up and down, trotting menacingly, his mount throwing up clods of mud into the air.
"I know why you are here," Vigan shouted at them. "You are here because of one man." He pointed at Emery. "He has incited you to perform criminal acts. Normally, I would have each one of you executed for treason, but I can see it is the traitor Emery Dorn and not you who has caused this. You are victims of his poison, so I will be lenient. Put down those stolen weapons, return to your homes, and I will only hang the leaders that led you astray. Continue this and you will be slaughtered to the last man."
"Steady men," Emery shouted. "He's just trying to frighten you. He's offering you a deal because he's scared—scared of us because we stand before him united and strong. He's scared because we do not cower before his threats. He's scared, because for the first time he does not see sheep, he does not see slaves, he does not see victims to beat, but men. Men! Tall and proud. Men who are still loyal to their king!"
Vigan raised his hand briefly then lowered it. There was a harsh crack followed immediately by muffled thwack! At the sound Emery staggered backward. Blood sprayed those near him. In his chest was lodged a crossbow bolt. An instant later the fiery red-haired boy fell into the mud.
The line wavered at the sight.
"No!" Arista screamed and shoved through the men and collapsed in the mud beside Emery. Frantically she struggled to turn him over, to pull his face out of the muck. She wiped the mud away while blood vomited from his mouth. His eyes rolled wildly. His breath wheezed in short halting gasps.
Everyone was silent. The whole world stopped.
Arista held Emery in her arms. She could see a pleading in his eyes as they found hers. She could feel his breath shortening with each wretched gasp. With each jerk of his body she felt her heart breaking.
This can't be happening!
She looked into his eyes. She wanted to say something—to give a part of herself to take with him—but all she could do was hold on. As she squeezed him tightly he stopped struggling. He stopped moving. He stopped breathing.
Arista cried aloud, certain her body would break.
Above her the sheriff's horse snorted and stomped. Behind her the men of the rebellion wavered. She heard them dropping weapons, discarding shields.
Arista took in a shuddering breath of her own and turned her face toward the sky. She raised one leg, then the other, pushing herself—willing herself—to her feet. As her shaking body rose from the mud, she drew Emery's sword in a tight fist and lifted the blade above her head and glared at the sheriff.
She cried in a loud voice, "Don't—you—dare—break! HOLD THE LINE!"
***
Chained and stretched out in the mud on his back,
a shadow fell across Hadrian's face and the rain stopped hitting him. He opened his eyes and, squinting, saw a man outlined in the morning light.
"What in Maribor's name are you doing here?"
The voice was familiar and Hadrian struggled to see the face lost in the folds of a hooded robe. All around him rain continued to pour, hitting the mud puddles and grass, splashing, forcing him to blink.
"Sergeant! Explain what goes on here. Why is this man chained?"
Hadrian could hear boots slogging through the mud. "It's Commander Parker's orders, sir." There was nervousness in his voice.
"I see. Tell me sergeant, do you enjoy being human?"
"What's that, sir?"
"I asked if you liked the human form. Having two legs, two eyes, two hands for example."
"I ah—well, I don't think I quite understand your meaning."
"No, you don't, but you will if this man isn't freed immediately."
"But, Lord Esrahaddon, I can't, Commander Parker—"
"Leave Parker to me. Get those chains off him, get him out of that mud, and escort him to the house immediately, or I swear you will be walking on all fours within the hour, and for the rest of your life."
"Wizards!" the sergeant grumbled after Esrahaddon had left him. He pulled a key from his belt and struggled to unlocked the mud caked locks. "Up you go," he ordered.
The sergeant led Hadrian back to the house. The chains were gone but his wrists were still bound by two iron manacles. He was cold, hungry, and felt nearly drowned, but only one thought filled his mind as he saw the rising sun in the east.
Is there still time?
"And what about the wagons on the South Road?" Esrahaddon growled as Hadrian entered. The wizard stood in his familiar robe that was, at that moment, gray and perfectly dry despite the heavy rain. Esrahaddon looked the same as he did in Dahlgren except for the length of his beard, which now reached to his chest giving him a more wizardly appearance.
Parker was seated behind his table, a napkin tucked into his collar, another plate of ham and eggs before him.
Does he have the same meal brought to him each morning?
"It's the mud. They can't be moved, and I don't appreciate—" He paused when he spotted Hadrian. "What's going on? I ordered this man staked. Why are you bringing him here?"
"I ordered it," Esrahaddon told him. "Sergeant, remove those restraints and fetch his weapons."
"You?" Parker replied, stunned. "You are here only as an adviser. You forget I am in command."
"Of what?" the wizard asked. "A thousand lazy vagabonds? This was an army when I left. I come back and it's a rabble."
"It's the rain. It doesn't stop."
"It's not supposed to stop," Hadrian burst out in frustration. "I tried to tell you. We need to attack Dermont now. Arista is launching a rebellion this morning in Ratibor. She'll seal the city so he can't retreat. We have to engage and defeat Dermont before he is reinforced by Sir Breckton and the Northern Imperial Army. They will be here any day now. If we don't attack, Dermont will enter the city and crush the rebellion."
"What nonsense." Parker pointed an accusing finger. "This man entered the camp claiming to be a Marshall-at-Arms who was taking command of my troops."
"He is, and he will," the wizard told him.
"He will not! He and this princess of Melengar are both responsible for the treachery that probably cost Degan his life. And we have had no news of any Northern—"
"Degan is alive, you idiot. Neither Hadrian nor Arista had anything to do with his abduction. Do as this man instructs or everyone will likely be dead or captured by the Imperium in two days. You, of course," the wizard glared at Parker, "will die much sooner."
Parker's eyes widened.
"I don't even know who he is!" Parker exclaimed. "I can't turn over command to a stranger I know nothing about. How do I know he's capable? What are his qualifications?"
"Hadrian knows more about combat than any living man."
"And am I to take your word? The word of a—a—sorcerer?"
"It was on my word that this army was formed—my direction that produced its victories."
"But you've been gone. Things have changed. Degan left me in charge and I don't think I can—"
Esrahaddon stepped toward the commander. As he did his robe began to glow. A blood red radiance filled the interior of the house, making Parker's face look like a plump beet.
"Alright! Alright!" Parker shouted abruptly to the sergeant. "Do as he says. What do I care!"
The sergeant unlocked Hadrian's hands then exited.
"Now, Parker, make yourself useful for once," Esrahaddon said. "Go round up the regiment captains. Tell them that they will now be taking their orders from Marshall Blackwater, and have them gather here as soon as possible."
"Marshall Lord Blackwater," Hadrian corrected him with a smile.
Esrahaddon rolled his eyes. "Do it now."
"But—"
"Go!"
Parker grabbed up his cloak, his sword, and pulled his boots from under the table. He retreated out the door still holding them.
"Is he going to be a problem?" Hadrian asked, watching the ex-commander hop into the rain, grumbling.
"Parker? No. I just needed to remind him that he's terrified of me. Esrahaddon looked at Hadrian. "Marshall Lord Blackwater?"
"Lord Esrahaddon?" he replied rubbing feeling back into his wrists.
The wizard smiled and nodded. "You still haven't said what you are doing here."
"A job—for Arista Essendon. She hired us to help her contact the Nationalists."
"And now she has you seizing control of my army."
"Your army? I thought this was Gaunt's."
"So did he, and the moment I'm away Degan gets himself captured after putting that thing in charge. Royce with you?"
"Was—Arista sent him to contact Alric about invading Warric."
While eating Parker's ham and eggs Hadrian provided Esrahaddon with further details about the rebellion and his plans for attacking Dermont. Just as he had finished the meal there was a knock on the door. Five officers and the harried-looking sergeant, carrying Hadrian' swords, entered.
Esrahaddon addressed them. "As Parker no doubt informed you, this is Marshall Lord Blackwater, your new commander. Do anything he says as if he were Gaunt himself. I think you will find him a very worthy replacement for your general."
They nodded and stood at attention.
Hadrian got up, walked around the table, and announced, "We will attack the imperial position immediately."
"Now?" one said astonished.
"I wish there was more time, but I've been tied up elsewhere. We will launch our attack directly across that muddy field where the Imps' three hundred heavy cavalry can't ride, and where their longbow archers can't see in this rain. Our lightly armored infantry must move quickly to overwhelm them. We will close at a run and butcher them man-to-man."
"But they'll—" started a tall gruff-looking soldier with a partial beard and mismatched armor, then stopped himself.
"They'll what?" Hadrian asked.
"I was just thinking. The moment they see us advance, won't they retreat within the city walls?"
"What is your name?" Hadrian asked.
The man looked worried but held his ground. "Renquist, sir."
"Well, Renquist, you're absolutely right. That's exactly what they will try to do. Only they won't be able to get in. By then our allied forces will own the city."
"Allied forces?"
"I don't have time to explain. Don't strike camp, and don't use horns or drums to assemble. With luck there's a good chance we can catch them by surprise. By now, they probably think we will never attack. Renquist, how long do you estimate to have the men assembled and ready to march?"
"Two hours," he replied with more confidence.
"Have them ready in one. Each of you form up your men on the east slope out of their sight. Three regiments of infantry in duel lines, senior commanders l
ocated at the center, left, and right flanks in that order. And I want light cavalry to swing to the south and await the call of the trumpet to sweep their flank. I want one contingent of cavalry—the smallest—that I will command and hold in reserve to the north near the city. At the waving of the blue pennant begin crossing the field as quietly as possible. When you see the green relay the signal and charge. We move in one hour. Dismissed!"
The captains saluted and ran back out into the rain. The sergeant handed over Hadrian's weapons and started to slip out quietly.
"Wait a moment," Hadrian halted him. "What's your name?"
The sergeant spun. "I was just following orders when I chained you up. I didn't know—"
"You've just been promoted to adjutant-general," Hadrian told him. "What's your name?"
The ex-sergeant blinked. "Bently…sir."
"Bently, from now on you stick next to me and see that my orders are carried out, understand? Now, I'll need fast riders to work as messengers—three should do, and signal flags—a blue and a green one—as big as possible. Mount them on tall sticks and make certain all the captains have identical ones. Oh, and I need a horse!"
"Make that two," the wizard said.
"Make that three," Hadrian added. "You'll need one too, Bently."
The soldier opened his mouth, closed it, then nodded and stepped out into the rain.
"An hour," Hadrian muttered as he strapped on his weapons.
"You don't think Arista can hold out that long?"
"I was supposed to take control of this army yesterday. If only I had more time…I could have…I just hope it's not too late."
"If anyone can save Ratibor, it's you," the wizard told him.
"I know all about being the guardian to the heir," Hadrian replied.
"I had a feeling Royce would tell you."
Hadrian picked up the large spadone sword and looped the baldric over his head. He reached up and drew it out, testing the position of the sheath.
Nyphron Rising Page 30
