by Mark McCabe
Though the sligs were clearly itching for the word to be given for the long-awaited assault to commence, they seemed in a strange mood to Hrothgar. All he seemed to get from many of the warriors as he rode past them was strange looks. Many more wouldn’t even meet his eye. They seemed nervous, unsure of themselves in some indiscernible way. Though only a few were veterans, he had known most of the others since they were young bucks. They didn’t know the meaning of fear. Perhaps they’d had a harder time getting there than Kurg had let on. Something was spooking them, that much at least was clear to Hrothgar. Eventually, he pulled up alongside an old friend who greeted him with a nod as he pulled on his rein and eased his horse into the line alongside his.
“When did you get back?” drawled Tarnk in his usual sardonic fashion, turning his gaze back to the Algarian lines way off in the distance as he spoke. “Thought you might have had something better to do.”
“This morning,” scowled Hrothgar, glancing at the angry scar that ran diagonally across his companion’s face. “Thought you might need some help. Looks like you could need it. Where’d you get that?”
“Forgot to duck.”
The rustling of leather against leather and the stamping of horses hooves rose up over the uneasy silence that followed Tarnk’s laconic reply. Eventually, realising that his companion wasn’t going to volunteer anything further, Hrothgar’s curiosity got the better of him.
“Where?”
“Kurandir.”
“Some fight, huh?”
“It was that. They’ll sing about that one for a long time to come. You should’a been there.”
“Hmmm.” Hrothgar knew that he’d missed too many good fights because of his worthless errand into the wilderness. “Lose many?”
“Yuh.”
“Bet that pissed Golkar off.”
“Could say that.”
After another uneasy silence, Tarnk suddenly spoke again. “When you gunna sort him out?” he asked, keeping his voice steady and his eyes fixed on the ridgeline in front of them.
“What do you mean?”
This time Tarnk turned slowly and looked at Hrothgar for a long moment before he replied. “You spoken to anyone else since you got back?”
“Yeh, Kurg. Why?”
“He bring you up to date?”
“Pretty much. Said it was a bit of a stroll in the woods so far.”
“Told you about the child?” asked Tarnk, turning his face away again to look down the line.
“Yeh.” Hrothgar’s face split with a wide grin. “Never thought Grartok had it in him. Who’s the bitch that made him a man? Kurg didn’t know.”
“He knew.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s Mardur.”
A sudden silence fell like a dead weight over the two warriors. Even those near them seemed to have stopped chatting. Hrothgar strained to keep a hold on his rein as his horse suddenly tossed its head back and forth. An image of his brother’s face reared up in the forefront of his mind. Grartok was looking down at him, sneering.
“So. When you gunna sort him out?” asked Tarnk when Hrothgar seemed to have his mount back under control.
“Where is he?” Hrothgar knew that his voice was hoarse, his words tight and clipped. It was all he could do to retain his composure as his anger flared like a bonfire within him. His eyes were glaring at Tarnk now, almost daring him to say the wrong thing.
“Back at the bridge,” Tarnk replied in a flat voice. “Seen a rider come in from the north not long back. Looked like one of Nargal’s boys. Must be a big . . .”
Hrothgar didn’t bother to wait for him to finish. He wouldn’t have heard him anyway as the rush of blood through his ears rose to a sudden crescendo. With a rough twist of his wrist, he swung his mount around and dug in his spurs. As his horse surged forward, he reached down with one hand to loosen his axe from its sheath.
~~~
The scene before the city was not an edifying one for the ruler of a once great nation to have to see. Panic had broken out among the Algarians and their forces were in almost total disarray. Standing on the balcony of her apartments high up on the gleaming walls of the palace which commanded the highest point within the city, Elissa watched as her nation slowly began to come apart at the seams.
On the plains below, the stream of refugees had swelled to a throng. Dragging their meagre belongings along on their backs or, if they were luckier, on rickety carts, they were streaming across the broad plain and into the city from almost every direction. A smaller number, she could see, were doing exactly the opposite, making their way out, scrambling to flee a city they had become convinced could no longer protect them.
Elissa knew that the streets below her were choking in a pandemonium the likes of which had never been seen in Keerêt. There was no longer anywhere for these new refugees to be housed, and many had simply dumped their belongings and set up camp in the narrow laneways and passageways of the inner city, adding further to both the confusion and the congestion. In all of this, the army, or what was left of it, was struggling to stay intact and to maintain the discipline that would be needed if the whole debacle were not to turn into a rout. If that happened, then all hope would be lost, if it wasn’t already.
Elissa turned away from the view and strode back into her apartment with her head held high, sweeping past her maids and attendants in a thin attempt at bravado. She, at least, must maintain her decorum in this their most trying of times. “Send for the Marshal,” she cried out as she bent over the maps strewn across the broad mahogany table that formed the centrepiece of her anteroom. There has to be a way, she thought as she began to pour over the charts for the umpteenth time that morning. There must be somewhere they can be held.
“And get me some fresh koohlar,” she shouted to no one in particular, not bothering to look up as quick hands grabbed the silver jug that stood beside her. The quick patter of feet across the panelled floor told her that her command had been instantly obeyed. Ignoring the knock at the door that followed a short while later, Elissa finally sat down and took up her eyepiece, keeping her eyes glued to the charts in front of her all the while. She couldn’t for the life of her imagine why they had to make the print on the maps so damned small. How could anyone be expected to read them?
Her concentration was interrupted when a familiar voice broke into her thoughts from just beyond her left shoulder. “Count Regulus begs admittance, Madam,” announced her maid. “Shall I tell him to wait?”
“What? No. No. Show him in. Thank you, Brina.”
Reluctantly turning away from the maps, Elissa watched the girl cross the small room and open the door to admit the count. Her handmaiden had been a faithful companion for many years. Was she right to allow her to stay on when her family had already left, even if the girl had insisted they would have to take her away in chains before she would leave her Queen? Elissa knew that she could have ordered the girl to go, and yet she had not done so. Was selfishness to be her only reward for years of faithful service? Thankfully, the formal bow from the count as he entered the room commanded her attention and denied her the opportunity to further pursue her line of thinking.
“Please don’t do that,” she exclaimed in an exasperated tone, beckoning Regulus to rise and approach her. “It seems an outrageous extravagance to allow such formalities when my realm is collapsing around my ears.” She cursed herself for her lack of composure, knowing that the slight catch in her voice wouldn’t go unnoticed by her closest friend. “Damn you, Regulus,” she hissed, suddenly angry. “Why is it always you that makes me feel like I’m not strong enough for all of this?”
“Come,” soothed the count, placing his hand gently on her shoulder as she turned her back from him and took a deep breath. “Don’t be angry with me. Not now. You know why. You know it’s because I’m your friend. You’re human Elissa, not some edifice of stone and precious metals like the statues of your predecessors. You have a heart, just like I do, and just like th
e rest of your subjects. Unfortunately, there are precious few you can open yours to. I’m glad you can at least let your guard down with me. And don’t think that I haven’t shed a tear or two for our fate too. It would take a heart of stone to look at what is happening here and not feel something strong stirring within us.”
“I’m sorry.” Elissa had managed to regain her composure once more, the soft shine to her eyes the only reminder now of her momentary loss of control. “Thank you, Regulus. I truly am sorry. I feel the weight of the whole realm upon me today.”
“You’re not alone in that, my Queen. We all feel it. The court will stand with you, though. A few have left, but not many. It’s the common people that are most at sea now. They’re scared Elissa, frightened out of their wits. I’ve just come up through the city now. It’s not a pretty sight. If we don’t get them doing something, there’ll be an even worse panic than there is now and that will be the end of us. We’ll never be able to defend the city then. I’ve taken the liberty of doing a few things. I’m sorry, but there wasn’t time to consult anyone.”
“I think the time for consultation and meetings is over. What have you done?”
“Don’t wait for Brassilius to respond to your summons. I ran into Halin on the way up here. I told him not to bother looking for him. Brassilius is busy. When I came across him he was having a bit of a crisis, blaming himself for the current situation and on the verge of losing it. I told him to get a grip on himself and to open the armoury and get every able-bodied man up on the walls with some kind of weapon in his hand. He’ll be all right now. I know I had no business giving him orders but, frankly, he needed it. I think he just had a bad moment there for a while. Mishra knows we’ve all had some of those since yesterday. He’s going to commandeer a couple of warehouses and get a few more kitchens going. That’ll get some of the women and children off the street and get their minds off their troubles for a while.”
“Well. You have been busy. You’re sure he’s all right now? He’s going to have a lot more on his shoulders before long.”
“He’s fine now. I didn’t suggest anything he wouldn’t have thought of himself anyway.”
“Mmmm. Have you heard any news from the East? I haven’t heard anything up here for some time now.”
“Yes. The sligs have begun their assault. It’s not the East that’s our main problem, though. It’s the northern front. A message has just come in from Jakic. That’s what I was coming here for before I ran into Brassilius.”
Regulus held out his left hand, offering the rolled up scroll he held there to Elissa. The Queen looked down at the scroll blankly for a moment, then lifted her eyes to meet his once more, ignoring the offer, wanting him to go on, though dreading what she was going to hear.
“I’m sorry,” he continued, blinking nervously as he lowered his hand, “but I’m afraid it’s even worse than we thought. Our whole northern front is in full flight. Jakic says there’s nothing left to rally. Apparently, Jeeluk was considerably worse than we’d thought. The survivors say it was a bloodbath. It appears that any hope that Jakic might still buy us a few days can be forgotten. If Marlor stays where he is now, by the morning our one remaining force of any size will be surrounded and cut off. The Mendobar Hills can’t be held any longer, Elissa. We’ve got to pull them right back to the city, now. That’s too big a decision for me to make. It will need your seal on it. We can’t afford to waste time while they send someone back to verify my authority to give an order like that.”
Elissa felt like Regulus had just told her that her closest relative had passed away. Her jaw dropped and she felt her cheek tremor as her mind struggled to accept what she had just heard. Surely he wasn’t serious. “But the plain’s full of refugees. We need more time to get them all into the city.”
“It’s too late for that. You must send the order now, Elissa. If Marlor is cut off away from the city walls, his fate will be sealed. And so will that of the rest of us. The refugees will be cut to pieces before even a quarter of them get into the city. And what chance will the rest of us have once Marlor’s gone? We can’t defend the city without his men. Even with them, our chances look grim. Send the word out onto the plain at the same time. Give the word for everyone who can to fly for the gates now, while they still can.”
“Oh Mishra,” sobbed Elissa as she sank back into her chair. “Why have you forsaken us?” She knew that Regulus was right. Even when they’d heard that the northern front was being overrun they had still pinned their hope on buying more time, thinking that something could be salvaged from the wreckage. There was no more time now. She felt hollow, like someone had just snatched away all of her will to go on.
Elissa looked up at Regulus. Despite the composure his tone suggested, he looked agitated. She hadn’t noticed before, but his face was pale and gaunt. It was his eyes, however, that were the most telling. They kept shifting focus, looking this way and that but never directly at her. Regulus was scared. If it was reassurance she needed, it was not to be found in the look on her friend’s face.
“We knew it would come to this,” she heard him continue in a voice that sounded stronger than he looked. “It’s just come sooner than we had hoped. We’re not done for yet, my Queen. The walls of Keerêt are strong and Brassilius has done all that he can to prepare us for a long siege. There’ll be many in the council who’ll remember in the days to come that they opposed him on that.”
His words were sound enough but they carried little conviction. For Elissa, his transparent attempt at optimism only made things worse. If even he had lost hope, then what was there left to cling to?
“I know that,” she responded wearily, unable to hide the despondency she was feeling. “I will send the order. We have no choice, do we? But to whom will we turn for hope once we’re penned up in the city? It’s just us now. The gods have forsaken us, and the Guardians too, it would seem.”
“Don’t give up on the Guardians yet,” urged Regulus after the Queen had sent for a scribe. “Remember what Nim said, that Tarak and Kell intend to join forces and that they’ve both promised to come to our aid as soon as they can. While ever those two Guardians live there is still hope, Elissa. Tarak wouldn’t have sent Jekira here if he intended to abandon her to her fate. They will come to our aid . . . I’m sure of it.”
Chapter 14
The sudden departure of her chief tormentor had done nothing to calm Sara’s nerves. If anything its effect had been more akin to pouring gasoline on an already blazing fire.
Even though she too had heard the noise that had prompted Ruz’ abrupt exit, she had been so frightened when the draghar had sprung up and grabbed his sword that she had been certain he had finally determined to do away with her, regardless of his master’s plans. To her relief, he had headed straight for the door. She had heard a few more noises after that, but then everything had gone quiet again. What it all meant was anyone’s guess.
Probably just Tug dropping something or knocking something over somewhere, she thought, unwilling to have to deal with anything more than she already had on her plate. Ruz must be just as much on edge as she was. She took a few deep breaths, trying desperately to keep the panic she knew was simmering just below the surface of her seething emotions under some sort of control, lest she lose all grip on her sanity altogether.
Though Ruz seemed to be gone for an eternity, she knew that she had no ability to maintain any sense of time, least of all in her current state. It may have been just a few minutes even though it seemed to her to have been much longer. Not that she was in any hurry to see the evil creature again. If anything, she realised, she should be grateful for the respite from his attention, no matter how brief it might be.
Then, just as she had begun to feel her pulse rate coming back under control and her frayed nerves had started to subside, even if only fractionally, the impossible happened. She couldn’t believe her eyes when she suddenly saw Rayne’s head cautiously peering around the edge of the door out of which Ruz had run
seemingly only minutes earlier.
“Oh my God. It’s not possible,” she cried out in amazement. “What are you doing here? Rayne, tell me I’m not dreaming.”
“What have the bastards done to you?” gasped Rayne as he limped across the floor of the room and threw his arms around her. “Are you okay?” he asked as they attempted an awkward embrace. Though Rayne had put his arms around her shoulders as he stood beside her, all Sara could do was try in some way to press her own upper body back against his, her manacles and her seated position prevented her from achieving anything more than that. When he bent down and she felt the soft skin of his cheek touching her own face as he hugged her to him, she drew in her breath sharply. She hadn’t expected to ever experience such feelings again.
“Yes, yes. Of course I am,” she sobbed, unable to restrain her emotions any longer. “Oh, Rayne. I can’t believe this is happening.”
Before Rayne had a chance to respond, Sara groaned as if she was suddenly in great pain. For a moment she had forgotten the terrible danger he had put himself in by coming there.
“Ruz,” she gasped, as he stood back to look at her. “He went out there looking for you only a few minutes ago. And Golkar, he’ll be back at any moment, he will, I’m sure he will.” She was tripping over the words in her rush to get them out. She had to make him realise the danger he was in. “You’ve got to get out of here. Leave me. You can’t save me now, Rayne. Save yourself. They’ll only kill you too.”
She was close to hysterical now. Rayne couldn’t possibly hope to fight them all off. How he had got there was irrelevant. If he stayed, it would just mean another senseless death. She couldn’t let him do that. “Quickly,” she urged him, looking wildly from the door to the mirror and back again as she spoke. “Go. Now. While you can.”
“Calm down,” Rayne responded in a frustratingly calm voice. “Ruz and Tug are dead. I killed them both, Sara. They’re dead. They can’t hurt you anymore.”
