Trial And Glory (Book 3)

by Joshua P. Simon

  One Above, that kid is good. And Janik . . . where did he learn to do that? Maybe he’s closer to earning his black robes than I thought. Something to consider if we make it out of this.

  “What about us?” asked Lufflin.

  Krytien turned with a raised eyebrow.

  “When are we going to get involved? I’ve got an idea on how to do some damage at this distance.”

  “No. That’s not our order. We need to keep as much in reserve as possible for when Nareash joins the battle.”

  “You mean, if he joins it.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Do you think we’ll have to do what we did on the first assault? This is the most they’ve brought against us since then.”

  Krytien shuddered. “One Above, I hope not.”

  * * *

  “C’mon, you pieces of garbage. Pick up the pace. They’re in range, and we’ve only gotten off three rounds,” snarled Raker. A string of tobacco-laced spittle dribbled down his chin.

  “The men are going as fast as they can,” said Senald. “We’ve already loosed two more than Drake’s team.”

  “That don’t mean squat to me. The kid screwed himself up pulling off that attack. It took him twice as long to recalibrate the equipment back to their normal settings. That’s a lesson for you, Senald. This is war, not some childish competition.”

  Senald stumbled over himself as did several others.

  “What are you looking at? Did you hear me call for a break?”

  “No, it’s just—”

  “It’s just what?”

  Senald paused. “Nevermind. Hurry up!” he yelled to the others.

  They picked up their pace.

  Good. I ain’t about to let the kid beat me after that.

  * * *

  “Loose!” Yanasi called out as the enemy finally came into range of her archers.

  Hundreds of arrows took to the air—white fletching trailing black shafts. Before the first flight struck, her men loosed their second volley. The rhythmic thwang of released bowstrings and thwacks of crossbows joined the steady pounding of the catapults.

  The enemy cowered under shields and hid within the shadows of the siege towers. Some found safe harbor, but just as many collapsed under the weight of heavy stone or spasmed as arrows pierced their flesh.

  The towers moved quicker on the level land near the fortress. Pockets of soldiers dressed in mismatched armor separated themselves from the main assault, rushing forward with ladders. She knew their goal would be to take temporary pressure off the towers, yet she couldn’t ignore them.

  She drew an arrow while calling out, “Second Company, ladders on the right. Third Company, ladders on the left.”

  She took aim and released. Hundreds followed. Their trajectory took a downward angle while the rest of her archers continued to put pressure on the ranks further out.

  The enemy fell like trampled grass, but still they came.

  * * *

  Elyse stood rigid on the war room balcony, as still as the air around her. She wondered if the guards who flanked her thought her cold-hearted at her lack of expression. The truth was that she had little emotion left to show. She had spent most of her life dreaming of joy, and the rest of it moping in sorrow. The numbing approach to life she had chosen weeks ago allowed her to focus on matters of greater importance.

  High up, at the top of the great keep, she scanned the battlefield under an overcast sky. The view gave her a perspective unmatched. She surveyed her army’s troop placement, recognizing Kaz’s strategy.

  Reminiscent of Victas’ third principle of siege warfare.

  Kaz had never read the book Drake found in Estul Island’s library as she had, yet her commander made decisions like he wrote the document himself.

  A small sigh passed her lips.

  What can’t he do?

  Out in the distance, past the siege towers, she saw the enemy redistribute their forces, intent on putting added pressure on the fortress’ right, near Jeldor’s position. Looking at her army’s troop placement, she realized that Kaz likely couldn’t see the change with the approaching siege towers and ladders already along the wall blocking his view.

  He’s likely in the middle of it all as well. Trying to win the battle himself.

  “Niken.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  “Send word to Jeldor immediately. Tell him he is to bring up the eighth and ninth companies to stabilize his lines. He should expect a strong push from the enemy shortly.”

  “Your Majesty, I beg your pardon but my place is by your side. Besides, I’m sure he is aware of the situation.”

  “Your place is where I choose it to be,” she snapped, eyes narrowing. “Geran will remain to protect me. Get to Jeldor before it’s too late. If he is already aware of the situation, then the only thing wasted will be your breath.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” Niken sprinted away.

  Minutes later Niken erupted from the keep’s entrance, dashing across the catwalks toward Jeldor. She relaxed slightly when she saw the duke bring up his reserves. It felt good to contribute in some way.

  She scanned the furious activity below. Her nails dug into her palms.

  I just wish I could do more. But at times like this I’m helpless.

  The one emotion Elyse allowed herself to embrace was anger.

  It all started with Nareash. If he had never manipulated Father, life would be as it should be. My life wasn’t anything to look back fondly on, but at least others weren’t suffering as they are now. So many lives would not have been lost.

  Elyse squinted at the teaming mass of flesh, wood, and steel. Arrows and stone battered the enemy like a tumultuous rain mixed hail. She wondered if one would be so lucky as to find Nareash. She hoped the One Above would understand the prayer she began as she watched.

  However Nareash dies, please let him suffer your wrath for his actions.

  * * *

  Kaz threw a man over the wall. His screams faded as he fell from sight. A dented helm crested the top of the battlements, but quickly disappeared as Crusher’s warhammer swooped in and met it. The giant threw the ladder over the wall.

  I think that’s the last one.

  The wall shook as the first siege tower slammed into it near Yanasi’s position. Four more jarring sensations followed. Doors to the towers dropped, and the enemy rushed out. A barrage of arrows felled the first wave, but the second immediately climbed over the bodies of the first. They reached Yanasi’s lines before they could loose the next volley. She shouted orders for soldiers with spears to move to the front.

  She has everything under control.

  Kaz wheeled upon hearing the next set of towers reach the wall. He grabbed Crusher by the arm.

  Side-by-side, they cleared a path toward the closest of the towers. Their spiked shields mauled anyone too close to swing their weapons at.

  Sorcery burst the tower door open, flinging Kaz’s men backward just as he and Crusher reached the group. The sorcery affected Crusher as it did the others. Kaz alone remained in place, protected from the assault by his armor.

  They did redistribute the mages.

  The mage tilted his head to the side, studying Kaz. A flow of enemy soldiers poured through the opening.

  Kaz rushed forward, determined not to give them a secure foothold. His first stroke severed a man’s hand at the wrist. His second sliced across the visor of another. Blood spurted past both sides of him as he moved to the next opponent.

  A sickening crunch sounded to his right. Crusher yanked his warhammer free from a soldier’s skull, pulling out pieces of bone and brain.

  “You ain’t having all the fun!” the giant bellowed.

  The rest of his men came up to join the steady clash of steel. Tendrils of sorcery licked Kaz’s breastplate, but he felt only the smallest of vibrations. He caught the widening of the mage’s eyes as he pushed toward him.

  In his frustration, the mage tried attacking Crusher as well. A ball o
f light raced toward the giant. Kaz dove in front of it, taking the brunt of the spell as Crusher’s warhammer descended.

  The Ghal cursed, twisting away to avoid colliding with his friend.

  “What are you trying to do?” Crusher yelled in exasperation, oblivious to the damage Kaz had saved him from.

  “Trying to keep you alive.” Kaz gestured toward the mage as another soldier moved into his path. Crusher’s warhammer swooped across and two of the enemy went airborne.

  “How about you clear me a path?”

  “Clear you a path?”

  “Now would work!” yelled Kaz. He ducked under a spear thrust, sidestepped a sword stroke, and shouldered into another man with his shield.

  Crusher stepped up, warhammer plunging forward. His massive shield followed to clip anyone who managed to avoid the weapon’s reach. The sequence struck four men. Three others stumbled in a tangled mass of limbs to get out of the way. Crusher didn’t even bother with his warhammer. He simply slammed his heavy boots down as he walked. Kaz heard ribs and sternums break.

  “What are you waiting for?” Crusher called out. “He’s readying another spell while you’re busy taking a breather. Why bother—”

  Kaz ignored the rest of Crusher’s rant and shoved himself forward, riding the destruction left in the giant’s wake. He sliced through one man, lowered his shield, and bowled into the last of the men trying to protect the mage. Kaz stabbed furiously over and around his oaken cover. Though the armor would protect him from the worst of any sorcery, Kaz remembered Krytien’s words that it would not make him invincible.

  Despite having the weight of two men against him, Kaz lurched forward another step. Blue light emanated from behind the soldiers, dancing off their steel helms.

  He’s about to strike again.

  Kaz dropped to one knee, causing the two soldiers to pitch forward. He braced his shield overhead, using it to throw one of the men over his shoulder. His sword came around low to sever the second man’s leg at the knee.

  Sorcery engulfed him, its heat taking his breath away. Kaz dropped his head, ducking behind the shield to protect his eyes. He smelled the burning wood, but he dared not release it, clinging to every bit of protection he had.

  With a grunt, he managed a step forward.

  Years of training had conditioned him to focus, and he recalled every one of those lessons from his Uncle Cef, gritting his teeth and bringing his other foot around. Even with the protection of the armor, his legs began to buckle. Sweat poured off his face.

  Just one more step.

  His left foot came forward as he leaned into the sorcery, right arm swinging up under his shield. It bit into flesh. The mage screamed. Kaz peered around his shield long enough to see the mage’s anguish turn into a joyless smile.

  He cursed. Not again.

  The release of power threw him through the air. Conscious of the burning shield attached to his arm, he dropped it on his descent. He braced for the eventual impact.

  I hate this part.

  A meaty hand snatched him out of the air by the shoulder and righted him on his feet. The jarring motion coupled with the after-effects of the sorcery made his head spin.

  Crusher winced. “You need to cut back on your rations. That liked to wrench my shoulder off. You alright?”

  Kaz nodded. “I’ll live.”

  “Good. Cause they’re still coming.” He gestured back to the tower’s entrance. The mage lay dead, but soldiers poured out. “You think you can finish showing off long enough to actually do something?”

  Kaz heard the playfulness in the Ghal’s tone. Despite feeling rattled, he managed to smile. He had never been one to joke around. Not even with Hag, he thought sullenly. But Crusher had a tendency to bring out the lighter side of him. Even with all that’s around us.

  “I think I can manage something. Last to a hundred has to carry the other man’s dinner for a week?”

  Crusher grinned.

  They both charged the tower opening.

  * * *

  Krytien shook his head violently at the swarming mosquitoes while his hands deflected another ball of fire. If he had a second to himself, he could cant a quick spell to rid himself of the most annoying of the One Above’s creations.

  Even half a second might be enough, he thought as several of the flying pests worked their way under his gray robes, biting at his skin.

  Earlier, when he saw mages stationed with each of the siege towers, Krytien reassigned those under his command accordingly.

  I hope Lufflin is alright.

  Under constant pressure, Krytien struggled to fend off the numerous attacks on him. The enemy mages worked well as a unit, keeping their strategy varied.

  And apparently there are more of them than we thought.

  He didn’t fear the mages, only what he might be unable to control.

  What would happen now if Nareash shows up? I’m struggling against a bunch of parlor tricks.

  Krytien grimaced as another mosquito bit him.

  Quit feeling sorry for yourself. What would Jonrell say if he were here? Or Ronav? Or anybody for that matter? I don’t have to stretch myself to take care of these upstarts.

  Krytien refocused himself. Tiny wisps of smoke erupted around him as the mosquitoes disintegrated. He caught the next fireball. Lunging forward, he threw it back in the direction it came from. With renewed determination, he deflected three other rapid attacks of sorcery. Stone, energy, and animal.

  He strengthened the shield around himself, pushed up his sleeves, and centered his mind as another series of fireballs sailed toward him. His mouth turned up.

  I’ll show them fire.

  * * *

  In her peripheral, Yanasi saw a flickering orange mass sail out toward the enemy.

  I guess Krytien’s done playing around.

  Shaking away her thoughts, she sidestepped a thrown spear.

  Pay attention.

  The doors to two more towers opened at her section of wall. She continued loosing arrows while shouting orders to handle the influx of enemy surging over the battlements. Three empty quivers lay at her feet while a fourth rested on her back.

  Despite her men’s efforts, they were being driven backward. They had the advantage of better training, but the sheer number of fresh enemy soldiers was becoming too much. Even bringing up reserves had only prolonged the decision she didn’t want to make.

  A knot formed in her stomach. The last time her men faced such a press had been during Nareash’s first attack of the High Pass. She nearly ordered a withdrawal from the outer wall then.

  But then Krytien stepped in. He scared them so much that the enemy retreated.

  She spared a glance toward the mage as he fought against sorcery thrown at him from multiple directions. Though he looked more like his old self, she knew better than to count on him for relief again.

  Last time he thought that was our only option. She remembered Kaz’s orders. “Hold the wall for as long as you can. But don’t be foolish. Withdraw across the catwalks before things become hopeless. Otherwise, we won’t have the ability to regroup at the middle wall. We can’t afford to be overrun there as well.”

  Yanasi grabbed several of her officers to sound the withdrawal. She sent a runner to bring up fresh reserves to cover their retreat. Another she used to send word to Kaz, making him aware of her decision.

  What was it Jonrell once said? “A commander who stops to think in battle is a commander who dies in battle. The thinking should happen before the fighting begins. Trust your gut, and act.”

  * * *

  Drake’s responsibilities grew more difficult as the hours passed. An engineer was most useful when hammering the enemy from a distance. The closer the enemy got, the more creative Drake had to be with his weaponry. Trebuchets continued to rain rock down on the back lines of the attackers while he adjusted other equipment to maul the siege towers.

  The two catapults under his command fired short, high-arcing shots just behi
nd the towers. Stone crashed into those waiting to climb through the wooden structures and up to the walls. Ballista released large javelins into the open mouths of the tower doors. Some of the missiles managed to take out two and even three men at a time.

  And despite all that we’ve done, it barely seems like it’s slowing them down.

  “Drake!”

  He turned toward the shout, and saw a messenger. “What is it?”

  “Captain Yanasi is ordering a withdrawal to the middle wall,” he huffed. “She told me to tell you to fall back immediately before you’re unable to do so.”

  Even though Kaz had presented the option of withdrawal, his chest clenched anyway. His men stopped their duties, waiting for his orders. He hadn’t felt so helpless since Cathyrium.

  We lost a wall then and won, but we needed Jeldor to bail us out. There isn’t anyone to bail us out now. He grit his teeth. Kaz will figure something out. He has to.

  “You heard the man. Janik, set the equipment on fire so they can’t use it against us. Everyone else, grab what you can, and let’s get out of here before we’re left behind.”

  The messenger continued to gulp air as he looked over the teaming mass of soldiers fighting below. “Sir, I don’t know if I can get word to Raker.”

  “Don’t worry. He’ll figure it out in a minute. Worry about the rest of your orders,” he said, slapping the soldier on the back.

  Behind him, flames found life amid the wood.

  * * *

  Raker noticed the fire from Drake’s position. He swore realizing what had happened.

  “Senald! Loose whatever you can, wherever you can, as long as it isn’t aimed at us. Then douse the equipment with oil, and dump the braziers on them.”

  “Wait, what?” He looked over to Drake and then down to the men under Yanasi’s command. “Oh. Aye!” he yelled and set to work.

  Raker situated a shield on his half arm, thankful he still had enough there to strap one in place. He unlooped the mace at his belt and secured it in his good hand. He looked forward to taking out his anger at losing the equipment.