Reciprocity : Volume 1 of The Fledgegate Cycle

by Zachary Smith

  Looking hard at both men, he set the wineskin on the map table with a nod to them and turned to leave. "Good luck to us all," the Governor said in parting.

  "We will move the men to short shifts on the gates, four hours at a stretch to keep them fresh. I want them shifted to new posts once a day so that nobody gets complacent on duty. Once the people that are close to the city outside are in the gates, I want all of them sealed except for the north gate. That we'll leave open for the people fleeing the city to the capital to leave through," Lorne said to Jorick and Glem. "Put that incompetent Neffal on the Dog Gate with two other men. Even he can't screw that up. I want fifteen men on each gate, with five spaced along each wall, and a rotating two-man patrol walking the top of the wall on each side. The men who are not on a watch will help organize and evacuate those leaving the city. Until the fighting starts, I want three rotating shifts: four hours on guard, four hours helping with organization and four hours working on the evacuation teams. That will be the schedule until the fighting starts. Then four hundred of the men shift to the walls. The rest in the center of the city to be deployed to the worst areas as needed. Any questions or suggestions?"

  "Good enough," Glem said. "Plans only last until the fight begins and the simple ones usually work better than the fancy ones. I'll help out where the fighting's worst, and maybe we can hold out till help arrives from the capital. I'm going to check on my granddaughter and her friend and get them situated before this starts."

  "Make sure you get at least a couple of hours of sleep," Jorick said to Glem. "It has been a long couple of days, and we are going to need you fit if we are going to survive."

  "Yourself, too," Glem grunted as he left the room.

  Chapter 15

  The Vanguard, now directly under the command of Hazk, waited for the cover of darkness in the outer lands controlled by the city of Eshly. Eshly, thanks to the bungled attack by Capt. Tyrup on a Laterian scouting party, was fully aware that Hasdingium was soon to be on their doorstep. An absolute lockdown of the city was underway. A highly placed spy inside the city had kept Hasdingium apprised of all developments that could impede the sacking of the city.

  The chances of being spotted three miles out from the city were slim, aided by the Governor of Eshly requiring that all within their lands vacate the area or come inside the protection of the town’s walls. No patrols had been spotted either. Eshly chose to bunker.

  Hazk was pleased; this worked into his plan perfectly. No one would expect a small scale attack hours before the army’s main fighting contingent could arrive. The idea was as elegant as it was simple. General Inehorn had surprised Hazk with the level of cunning and tactical genius he displayed. He would be a useful asset in the battles to come.

  The twenty-three men Hazk had selected for this mission were resting under the trees a few yards behind him. The usual chatter of soldiers before a battle could be heard, but everyone here had tasted the blood of the enemy. They had adapted well to their new abilities, though most were not as powerful as a young adult in Ma-Ti. The shocking aspect of their growth was the speed with which they learned. They had been powerless when he arrived, but their growth from there had been impressive. He must report that when he had the opportunity.

  The loss of Tyrup’s unit stuck in the back of Hazk’s mind. When they had failed to report in, General Inehorn had dispatched a small group to find them. Hazk had joined more out of boredom than any real interest, and was happy that he did. Even he had been shocked by the carnage left on the road; the battle had been a completely one-sided slaughter.

  Two of the stronger magic wielders had been assigned to Tyrup at the time of the attack, and none of the evidence left on the battlefield indicated that they had managed much of an offense. To the contrary, and if Hazk had read the evidence left correctly, the entire unit had been decimated by the opposing force in seconds.

  Even more disturbing to Hazk was the condition of the bodies. This had not been a fight of swords and spears. At least one, possibly three, members of the Eshly scouting party had deployed more potent magic than should be possible this early in the Gatecycle.

  Is there another faction from Ma-Ti at work here? Hazk wondered.

  That would explain the level of magic used at the battle site. Perhaps another warrior had come through the portal on a secondary mission.

  The idea was entirely possible. Hazk doubted he knew 1/10th of Ma-Ti’s invasion plans for Fledgegate. Minds far more devious and cunning had put this into motion, and Hazk was a pawn, though a pawn on the winning side of the board.

  Concerning Fledgegate, all lives were pawns under the control of Ma-Ti.

  Hazk pushed the matter from his mind. The battle for Eshly would be upon them in a few short hours. He had more important things to consider.

  The city of Eshly was not impressively armed. Though well-fortified, the guard force only numbered in the hundreds. There would be no military intervention either.

  The Laterian Army rarely ventured far from their base adjacent to the capital city, the cold peace between the two countries having necessitated only the keeping of an army, not the deployment. Most citizens of the nation were far outside the protection zone of the main forces. Eshly would not have their help for days.

  The decision to take Eshly before the Laterian capital city, Laioruum, was a strategic one. If the Hasdingium forces moved straight to the capital, and the invasion stalled, the army would be stuck in between two large and well-provisioned cities. A two-front siege would ensue, halving their forces between them. Eshly must fall first.

  A protracted siege of the capitol would then be possible, if not desirable.

  Dusk turned to dark, and Hazk relaxed. Shortly before 10 pm, the men were roused from their sleep by the newly promoted Captain. Battlefield promotions were good for morale. Your leader may die tomorrow, giving you a chance to promote and take his place.

  Everyone believes they can do a better job than their leaders, and this new Captain would get the opportunity to prove that tonight.

  “Sir,” the Captain addressed Hazk, “the men are awake and fed. All preparations are in order. By your leave, I wish to put four men on point, half a mile ahead of the rest of the force.”

  “Why four, Captain? That is almost a fifth of the men,” Hazk replied gruffly.

  “Two to stay and observe Sir, and two to report back. I wish not to have anyone sent out alone,” the Captain answered,

  “Two men only. There is no reason to report. We will be here if they are engaged. Send the two weakest.”

  “Yes, Sir!” the Captain responded. With an unreturned salute, the Captain pivoted on his heels and strode back to the men.

  This pawn will also do nicely, Hazk thought. If he survives the night.

  Twenty minutes after the first two soldiers left camp, the remaining force set off toward Eshly. In three hours, the attack would commence.

  A light and welcome rain fell over the sleeping city as the group of darkly clad men quickly advanced toward the stone walls. Their objective was a spot near an inconsequential gate at the rear of the city. Seldom used due to its location and smaller size compared to the main city entrance, the residents largely ignored the gate.

  A single guard tower, perched atop the wall and giving an ideal vantage point to spot their approach, loomed directly overhead. Moon shadow alone could indeed have betrayed their passage over the open land had an observant guard noticed their running silhouettes flickering on the ground. If their inside man had done his job, the tower should have been occupied by bought guards, or at least negligent ones.

  The oppressively humid air deadened any errant sound the attackers made as they hastily covered the last few hundred meters to Eshly's fortifications. Single file, they pressed their bodies against the stone wall still slightly warm from the heat of the previous day. All members of the force watched their leader, Hazk, as he listened and waited for any signs they had been discovered. With a wave, flat palm down, the group
took a knee to lower their vertical profile. The Vanguard had reached the walls of Eshly.

  Two soldiers, positioned directly behind Hazk, awaited his signal to proceed. With a nod from their leader, the two men stood and began their ascent of the city wall. With their prodigious strength, the men pressed their fingers between the mortarless stacked stone, managing to get a fingerhold on the otherwise smooth fortification. The cracking of the stone around their fingertips made more sound than was desirable during the otherwise quiet night. The climb was slow, and each finger hold forced was made at a random cadence to decrease the probability that the noise would be suspicious if heard.

  ✽✽✽

  Neffal's dreams of joining the Laterian army hadn't materialized.

  "Yet," he told himself. "One day, I will be promoted. Being a guard is not my destiny."

  Neffal still clutched to his fantasy of being a knight in service to the King, or even a sentinel, swearing his allegiance to the ancient magical stone underneath the palace. He would be honored by the citizens of Laterius, feared by the crown's enemies, desired and bedded by all the beautiful women of the capital. It was a dream he had. A dream that kept him warm on the long, sometimes cold, and often rainy nights of manning the tower.

  His job, like that of his father before him, was to ring the gong at the first sight of an attack, warning the city below him of their impending doom.

  He was often told that he followed in his father's footsteps. His father, who had died on duty when he was a small child, was a simple man of large stature.

  "Not particularly athletic or intelligent, but a good man. A sturdy man," was how the crone next door had described him. "I see a lot of him in you."

  Neffal had not understood the slight.

  The city was quiet. The cold drizzle, making his mood as soggy as his clothes, was threatening to become a storm. Lightning to the west was edging ever closer, and the occasional boom of thunder could be heard.

  "It's gonna be a miserable night," Neffal grumbled as he thought of the waste pile below, recently mucked out of the various city stables and now being washed down the streets by the runoff from the nearby roofs. "I'll probably get stuck cleaning that up too."

  Neffal thought of his father. Was he satisfied with this life? Had he wished to be something more? Why was he stuck in such a dismal job? Neffal wanted answers.

  He had no intention of remaining on this tower for the rest of his life.

  His father had died while on tower duty, stabbed in the back by another guard to whom he owed money. Money that he had spent on drink.

  I understand why my father drank on duty, Neffal thought, it was the only thing that kept him warm.

  Drinking on duty may have been tolerated in his father's time, but Lt. Jorick would never allow it today. While peace may have lasted for as long as Neffal could remember, not that he had ever known war, rising tensions with Hasdingium had put a stop to those antics.

  Being caught drunk meant lashes, and Neffal had no interest in feeling the bite of a whip. Daydreaming would have to suffice.

  And so, Neffal daydreamed and did his best to stay somewhat dry and partially awake, while the assassins that climbed the wall of the tower went unnoticed. He watched over the city, ignoring the area that he was charged with observing, as the first assassin silently cleared the wall and approached behind him. Neffal wished for a better life, a more comfortable life, a more noteworthy life. The assassin drew his blade. And as Neffal blamed others for his situation, and for his father for being a failure, the assassin attacked.

  ✽✽✽

  Palek cleared the wall in a whisper, Besra following just a second behind.

  The tower guard was ignoring his post, looking out over the city with his back turned.

  Palek didn’t know if this guard was on the payroll, and he did not care in the least. His orders were to clear the tower and clear it he would.

  Quickly covering the five steps to the oblivious guard, Palek was uneasy at the guard's apparent lack of situational awareness. Fearing a trap, he struck hard and fast. His left arm wrapped around the guard's neck and grabbed his own left shoulder, and squeezed, instantly cutting off the blood flow to the guard's brain and crushing his trachea. At the same time, he stabbed his nine-inch dagger toward the guard's ribs. The attack was wild and poorly executed, but Palek was lucky. The knife penetrated and glanced off the guard's ribcage, sinking a few inches into his side. Palek quickly changed his grip, placed his palm against the knife's butt, and shoved. The blade pushed through and into the guard's diaphragm.

  The guard's eyes opened in shock, and his mouth moved pointlessly, as he attempted to breathe and scream. He could do neither. Wrenching the blade back and forth, Palek then switched to a circular rotating motion. Ribs cracked and dislocated as Palek delivered as much damage with the blade as he could. Death was not instantaneous, but it was blessedly silent. He held the guard's weight in his left arm as the man's legs failed, and continued to keep the choke's pressure in place. After a few moments, Palek eased the now dead guard to the ground, his dagger pulling easily from the gaping wound on the guard's side.

  "You're covered in blood," Besra said dryly. "The Advisor will not approve,"

  With a spike of fear, Palek looked down at his tunic. Covered was an inadequate description; he looked as though he worked at a slaughterhouse.

  "Surely, Hazk will understand," Palek said, unable to hide the fear in his voice. "I had no choice. It was his plan."

  "He said quietly and cleanly. You only got half of it right."

  I'm sure he will understand," Palek responded meekly, obviously trying to convince himself.

  "We will see. Now let's finish this and open the gate."

  ✽✽✽

  "Remove your cloaks and proceed to the gate. Quickly and quietly," Hazk ordered the soldier behind him. The soldier acknowledged with a salute and relayed the message to the man behind him. As the order flowed to the rear, the soldiers began removing their over cloaks, revealing their carefully acquired Laterian Guard uniforms. Once decloaked, the men moved to the gate.

  With a squeak that could wake the dead, the gate opened, revealing a blood-soaked Palek.

  "Advisor, we have done as you commanded. The guard is dead." Palek said.

  Hazk grabbed the soiled soldier by the throat without saying a word and hoisted him out of the gate. Holding Palek by the throat, at arm's length and a foot over his head, Hazk glared into the man's eyes.

  "I told you, cleanly and quietly. You did neither. I do not tolerate animals who disobey."

  With an effortless push of his thumb against Palek's chin, Hazk snapped the man's neck and let his body fall to the ground.

  "Everyone inside. Slowly, like we belong here. Our guide will meet us shortly," Hazk said, making no mention of the dead soldier at his feet. "Form up once inside. Move."

  The group entered the gate and formed into two relatively even lines.

  The last soldier secured the gate.

  Hazk's plan, hiding in plain sight, depended on the guard's fitting into the city's pre-battle-tensioned life. This area of the city was lightly traveled, and Hazk didn't expect any issues. Any passers-by would assume the guard compliment stationed there was to operate the small gate into the city. There was a measure of truth to that. One quarter of his crew would post here as a fallback. Having a prepared escape exit or entrance for the regular soldiers could be beneficial if the primary plan ran into issues.

  “Besra, take him with you," Hazk commanded as he pointed at one of the men, "Return to the guard tower. Act as an ordinary Eshly tower guard would; lazy and incompetent. The rest of you listen up. We are now Eshly guards. We will stand here until the escort arrives. I will continue addressing you until he is here.

  A few minutes later, the escort arrived. In his early middle years, the overweight man, obviously unaccustomed to physical work or exercise, looked at the faux guards with a mixture of hatred and contempt. This escort was obviously some
one who was in it for the money, and not a friend of the Hasdingian Empire. A greedy man was easy to use and easier to discard.

  "Harumph, having me out here, meeting the likes of you. What was he thinking? I wasn't supposed to be involved today. Damn poor planning, I say. Why was I just now told about this? I thought we had plenty of you lot inside already. Well, come now. It is a reasonably long and tiring walk where we're headed. Follow me," said the escort.

  "Charming individual," a guard sarcastically whispered behind Hazk. Usually, Hazk would reprimand him for speaking out of turn, but he happened to agree.

  The escort led the guards, marching double-file route step, on a circuitous route through the city, doing his best to avoid popular gathering areas and locations with large quantities of real Eshly guards. It wouldn't do to be outed as imposters here in the middle of town.

  Hazk noted that the city had been built for trade, not war. The Hasdingian army would have little problem navigating the grid-like and unusually wide roads here, and even the alleyways between buildings were spacious enough for a large cart. Of course, if the guards had any training, they would be raining arrows down from windows and roofs.

  Hazk smirked as he looked down at the cobblestone road. Plenty of ammo for a few of my men, he thought. Indeed, ripping out the cobblestones and firing them at retreating civilians would be enjoyable and efficient. Unfortunately, the plan was to let most of them live.

  Pity.

  Chapter 16

  Kiiryas divulged every small detail of the information he had gathered by following Glem, Jorick, Lorne, and the Governor, and Oarf listened intently to everything without interrupting, a look of dread slowly replacing his usual lighthearted look.