The two shared a few laughs as Wiqua performed a quick healing spell on Kaz to increase his energy and remove the dull aches plaguing him. Kaz had wanted to tell the man to save his power, but he knew Wiqua well enough to keep quiet. Besides, he actually didn’t mind the attention.
It’s far more than my own father ever showed me.
* * *
Kaz passed the armory where Cisod worked on last minute adjustments to weapons and armor. Jeldor met him around the next bend in the corridor.
“Commander! Just the man I wanted to see. You left so quickly after our meeting I didn’t have a chance to speak with you in private.”
“Oh?”
“I won’t take much of your time. I just wanted to talk to you now in case something happens and I can’t later.” He paused. “It’s been an honor. I’m ashamed to admit that like many others, I had my doubts about your capabilities, in no small part due to my own prejudices. But you’ve proven me wrong at every turn. I know we butt heads quite often, but I have the utmost respect for you.”
Jeldor held out his hand.
After collecting himself from the surprise, Kaz accepted it. He had been despised when he first arrived in the foreign lands because of his appearance and personality.
The Cadonians have come a long way in a short time. As have I.
He thought of his promise to Itken.
Will I be able to change an entire culture?
* * *
The engineers met as one unit at the center of the inner wall. Drake watched Raker, backlit by two braziers, give the group a speech Drake didn’t know the sour veteran had in him. It spoke of courage, persistence, valor, and every other trait that described the heroes Drake recalled hearing in stories from his youth.
Granted, those tales did not use quite so colorful language.
“Now, who wouldn’t want to be known for all of those things?” Raker asked.
The old engineer nodded as his question received several “aye’s” from the group. He spat to the side.
“Well, not me. In a hundred years when someone is reading about this battle, I want my name in the records. But I want to be known as the meanest, most vile person on these walls.” He pointed over his shoulder. “And if they win, I want them cursing my name for centuries to come, not praising me for doing the honorable thing.” He spat again. “So, if one of the enemy is near you, suffering, hands at his stomach, doing all he can to stop the tide of blood from flowing, don’t give him mercy. Let him bleed.”
The group had grown so quiet you could hear a pebble drop.
Too much. He lost them.
He started to open his mouth to salvage Raker’s speech when the man next to him jumped up, shouting at the top of his lungs in agreement. Within half a breath, the whole group did the same.
Raker pointed with his stump toward the middle wall. “Get to your stations then, and keep your heads on, lads. Give them something to remember you by!”
Drake stared at the soldiers running off to their posts.
Unbelievable.
“Impressed?” asked Raker, coming up to Drake.
“Actually, yes.”
“Don’t be. I just improvised a speech Ronav gave years ago.”
“I knew you couldn’t come up with something original.”
“The way I figure it, there’s only about a dozen or two original speeches ever. Everyone since then has just put their own spin on them.” He slapped Drake on the shoulder. “You might find this hard to believe, but you don’t have to reinvent everything, kid.”
“I guess not,” Drake grunted.
“Now, let’s get going. I bet that mage friend of yours ten gold coins my crew would outdo yours today.”
“Janik? Ten gold?”
“Aye.”
Drake smirked. “Why don’t we make it twenty?”
* * *
Yanasi knew immediately that Kaz’s hunch had been right. The enemy made no effort to hide their intentions. Thousands of warriors shuffled on top of the outer wall behind their makeshift barricade of wood and stone. This would be it.
And with the traps in the killing ground sprung, little will slow them down.
“There sure are a lot of them,” said Rygar.
“Thanks for the scouting report, but we already knew that.” She tried to make light of the situation, despite her nerves, but the comment came out wrong.
Rygar must have understood her intent, because he only smiled. “I know. It’s just different looking at them from this perspective.”
Rhythmic pounding of spear and boots against stone sounded from the outer wall. Swords rose over their makeshift barricades. War cries began.
It’s almost time.
“I love you,” she whispered to Rygar, eyes not leaving the enemy.
A hand soaked in nervous sweat grabbed hers and squeezed. “I love you too.”
* * *
Kroke’s heartbeat grew louder as he waited at the ramp. Though he knew the invaders would cross the killing ground with ladders to scale the inner walls, he understood their best chance at gaining a foothold was to seize the ramp where he waited.
Where the fighting will be thickest.
Kaz stood a few men down, staring intently at the enemy. Without the armor Cisod created for him, he seemed like a regular soldier.
Although a big one.
Kroke hoped the ruse would work.
“Get out of my way,” a deep voice boomed behind Kroke.
He glanced over his shoulder as Crusher pushed his way to the front, muttering about little men.
The Ghal took up position next to Kroke. “You?”
Kroke didn’t look up. “Yep. Me.”
A long, uncomfortable pause followed that began to make Kroke’s fingers itch.
I did kill his brother.
“I’ve been meaning to talk to you,” said Crusher.
Kroke tensed.
“Kaz told me the truth about Grin. For what it’s worth, we weren’t what you would call close.”
“Alright.”
“Thought I should let you know. You know, just in case you were worried I might try something.”
“I wasn’t,” said Kroke.
“No?”
“Nah, it would have been nice to humble you a bit though.” Kroke eyed the Ghal.
Crusher’s confusion slowly turned into a smile. A meaty hand slapped Kroke’s back, nearly knocking the wind out of him. “You’re alright.”
Kroke did his best to catch his breath without the Ghal noticing.
A cacophony of weapons clanging, boots pounding, and voices screaming, rose from the outer wall.
Crusher readied his warhammer. “Music to my ears. I do believe today is going to be a good day for killing.”
Kroke inhaled a lungful of crisp morning air. Coupled with the vibrations of the enemy’s war cries, the cool breeze sent bumps crawling up his arms. Blades appeared in his hands.
“Every day is a good day for killing.”
Crusher nodded in agreement. “Aye.”
Chapter 14
Soldiers poured out the tunnel under the outer wall like a damn bursting.
“Front lines, loose!” Yanasi shouted.
The enemy stumbled through a fog of arrows and spears, shields in one hand, ladders in the other.
Enemy arrows from the outer wall took flight, heading toward her position.
“Front lines, shields! Back lines, release!”
Three shafts from the enemy struck the oaken wood of her shield as bowstrings behind her continued to strum.
She cursed the next volley that reached her, barely managing one release of her own in between. Warriors sprinted ever closer to the middle wall.
We’re not putting enough pressure on them.
“Formation eight!” she called.
She lowered her shield and readied her bow. Rygar moved in closer with a wider shield overhead, so close she felt his breath on her neck.
Her men broke off
in pairs, doing the same.
Yanasi had invented the formation after Cathyrium. Every other soldier in her company would continue to release arrows until told otherwise while the person next to them used a shield larger than standard issue to cover both soldiers from enemy projectiles.
Yanasi fell into a steady tempo with her bow, aiming at the lead warrior carrying each ladder. Arrows pounded the wood above her.
* * *
Men dropped like wind-blown stalks of wheat as arrow and javelin thudded into them. Hundreds died. Thousands came.
Kroke waited impatiently on the ramp, men to his left and right, ten across. His arms shook, but not in fear, only in anticipation. Arrows arched overhead, aimed at the walls, though some fell short and flitted into the ranks on the ramp. For that reason, Kroke kept one eye on the sky.
“Let’s get on with this,” muttered Crusher.
Kroke couldn’t agree more. Most soldiers fought where you assigned them, but few ever requested the most dangerous spots. With a quick glance to either side, he saw men licking lips, eyes narrowing rather than widening as the enemy closed. Mouths casually formed into smiles.
These are my people.
The invaders stormed up the ramp with no semblance of formation or unity.
“I love it when they’re so eager to die,” said Crusher as his warhammer came up.
Kroke never saw it fall, but he heard the wet crunch as he engaged the first man to reach him. He ducked under a wild sword stroke, and brought the blade in his left hand up under his opponent’s chin. He yanked the knife free, before the gout of blood could soak his free hand.
The body fell sideways, and the next man hurdled it. A thrust to the abdomen rewarded the soldier’s eagerness.
The cramped space and disorganized assault of the enemy worked to Kroke’s advantage. His thin frame dodged under and slipped the enemy’s attacks, finding holes in each man’s defense.
Sparing a quick look around between surges, he noted that none of the bodies on the stone ramp belonged to allies. Their best fighters formed the front line of their defense, and each had a pile of the enemy at their feet, some bigger than others.
The next wave hit the bottom of the ramp, climbing upward. Kroke breathed in deeply. He wanted to make sure that at the end of the day, his pile dwarfed the others.
* * *
Raker’s crew scooped another cache of coals from one of the braziers at their station, loading the mangonel’s bucket. Senald pulled the release and the arm snapped forward. Glowing balls of red sailed through the air with streaking tails of orange.
The little pieces of hell cascaded down, bouncing off shields. Some found their way between gaps in the invaders’ armor. Writhing in pain, those men fell to the ground. They pulled at their armor, suddenly oblivious to the battle around them, focused only on stopping the fire.
Raker had no sympathy for them.
Another hapless warrior got trampled by the man behind him.
Apparently neither do their own men.
His attention shifted as flames took life on the killing ground. Among the other hazards, Kaz had soaked the ground in pitch. The one trap Kaz had ordered not to be sprung before today.
He knew we needed to save that for when they came at us in force. He smiled. The man knows war.
Warriors caught in the rising flames either rushed forward, chancing survival against the defenders’ blades, or dropped ladders to retreat to the outer wall. Regardless of the strategy, most failed. Fire engulfed them, turning their forms into globs of charred armor and melted flesh.
Water arced up from the outer wall, originating from where Raker knew the cisterns had been located. The water fell over the flames, quenching the fire. Steam rose, the heat choking men on both sides.
He cursed. Blasted sorcery. Your turn Krytien.
As if on cue, tendrils of blue light shot out from the middle wall over to a central location on the outer wall.
“Senald!”
“Yes, sir.”
“Continue releasing mangonels on the field, but move one crew to the ballista. Wherever you see sorcery strike, follow it with a missile, especially if it comes from Krytien.”
“Do we use the special ones you and Drake came up with?”
“No. Not until I give the order.”
Those are for you, Nareash.
* * *
Krytien had to give credit to the mage responsible for using cisterns. The sorcery might have seemed insignificant to most, but the way it arced over the invaders without touching them, only to disburse evenly over the worst of the flames took skill that many would not be able to appreciate.
Since the siege began, he felt touches of someone on the other side with considerable skill. He knew the mage did not wield the power Nareash possessed, however that person could think quickly and had been creative in combating him and the mages Krytien oversaw.
Krytien tried to single the mage out before, but something always seemed to stand in his way. Even now, as he tried to isolate the mage, others swooped in to take the brunt of his assaults.
Like the unknown mage, the rest of the enemy’s lesser mages had grown steadily in skill. One-to-one, they could not match up against the mages fighting for Cadonia, but when they fought in groups it didn’t matter.
Flashes of blue light, balls of orange fire, and stones from the Cataric Mountains, joined the already crowded sky of arrows, ballista missiles, and catapult shot. Even the occasional white streak of lightning descended from the few scattered clouds.
Krytien had never seen so much sorcery called upon in so small an area. His body pulsed not only from his spells, but from the reverberations of the spells around him. Like the other mages, he did his best to ignore the hand-to-hand fighting, and tried to shield the ranks from sorcery. He attacked when he could, but with so much effort required for defense, he could not focus on eliminating the biggest risks.
Namely the unknown power I keep feeling. One Above, if I can’t stop him, how can I ever expect to defeat Nareash.
He sensed a mage across the way preparing his next assault. He sent a marking spell toward him, strong enough to make the mage glow. A breath later, two ballista missiles slammed into the target from either side.
That’s four.
He, Lufflin, Janik, Raker, and Drake had worked on the modifications to the equipment. Each missile released honed in on Krytien’s marker. Their efforts helped, but it was not fast enough.
He strengthened the barrier protecting a company of spearman led by Jeldor. A line of flame raced toward them, but dissipated to nothing more than smoke and warm air by the time it struck the middle wall.
Krytien took a deep breath to calm himself as he worked the next spell.
* * *
From a shielded position at the top of the outer wall’s gatehouse, Guwan watched the battle unfold, frustrated by the results so far. Hezen stood to his right. Nareash hid behind them.
“What’s going on Guwan? I should be seeing better results.”
Guwan scowled at the High Mage. “I am only part of this assault. Despite the free reign you gave Colan, he is doing little to penetrate their defenses.”
“It’s hard for him to do so when he’s not getting adequate support from the army.”
“That and Krytien continues to be resourceful,” Hezen chimed in.
Nareash threw the would-be emperor a look and pointed out the ramp. “Our men are getting slaughtered trying to gain access to the middle wall.”
“Reports say they have most of their best fighters concentrated in that one position. You can see the Ghal is there for sure,” added Hezen.
“I don’t care who’s down there,” said Nareash. He faced Guwan. “You said that with Kaz dead you’d be able to take the middle wall easily. Look, the men are starting to ignore the ramp all together and concentrate on the wall itself.”
Guwan shrugged. “Well, they’re focusing on where they think they’ll gain a foothold.”
“I don’t care about a foothold,” snapped Nareash. “I want the middle wall overrun. We need to increase the pressure. We can’t let up, otherwise Colan and his mages will continue to be ineffective.”
“I wanted to lead with the Kifzo . . .” Guwan trailed off. Though Nareash had given him full control of the military, at the last minute the High Mage told him to hold off on sending in his best. No explanation was given.
Even above the clamor of battle, Guwan swore he heard the High Mage grind his teeth.
“He’s right,” whispered Hezen.
“Send them in,” said Nareash.
“I’ll lead them myself,” Guwan said.
“No. I want you here. I’m moving closer to Colan. I need to better focus my efforts on what he’s doing.”
“But—” Guwan started to argue, but Nareash walked away.
He swore, hating the condescending tone Nareash used when speaking to him. He also noted a sidelong glance from Hezen.
Hezen leaned in, lowering his voice so others would not hear. “Remember what I said earlier.”
“About what?”
“Choosing the right time to take a bite.”
“Now?”
Hezen shrugged. “Kaz is dead and Colan cannot penetrate their sorcerous defenses. Nareash is blaming you for his failure. Take control now or possibly lose it forever.”
Guwan eyed the man, but said nothing. He had orders to give and knew from experience his Kifzo would be eager to receive them. He turned and left.
Take control for your benefit? No. I’ll take control of this battle, this army, and this whole backward land. You think I’d trade Nareash for you? I’ll carve out my own kingdom.
He smiled.
I’ll lead the Kifzo, but not because you told me to or to defy Nareash, but because it will garner me greater respect among the men. Then when we’ve wiped this army out, we’ll see who the men would rather follow, the self-proclaimed emperor or the proven warrior.
* * *
It had been so long since Kaz fought in anything other than the armor Cisod had designed for him that he had forgotten what it was like to wear standard gear. He felt each nick and bruise more than he had in some time—not much more, but enough to notice the difference. The sight of plain mail and plate did not strike fear in the hearts of those he faced like the life-like creatures crawling across the blue and red metal of his other armor.
Trial And Glory (Book 3) Page 16
