Corthie leaned over and picked up the spear. It had been fashioned by strapping a knife blade to the end of a broom handle. He frowned and tossed it away.
‘I don’t think they even noticed I was here,’ said Van.
Corthie picked up the blacksmith’s hammer and tucked the handle into his belt, as Van stubbed out his cigarette and struggled to his feet.
‘We need to find you some salve or something,’ said Corthie, watching as Van held his back and winced.
‘I would have slapped you if you’d suggested that a few days ago,’ said Van. ‘The thought of getting addicted to salve again chills my blood. But now? If we’re all going to die, then I might as well have some.’
They walked on for another hour, as they inched their way towards the foot of Old Alea. They were forced into a detour that took them round a series of fields where two rival gangs were battling each other in the glow of the fires.
‘Torduans against Shinstrans,’ muttered Van as they watched from a distance. ‘Even now, they hate each other.’
They turned, and skirted the far end of the field, leaving the warring factions to their rear. Ahead, the sound of the regular thump of boots could be heard approaching along the farm track.
Van halted. ‘Wait.’ He inclined his head to listen. ‘That sounds like soldiers.’
Corthie glanced over his shoulder. Behind them, the battling gangs were only twenty yards away, while irrigation trenches lined the banks of the track, their deep water reflecting the moonlight.
‘Dammit,’ muttered Van, ‘there’s nowhere to run.’
‘It’ll be fine,’ said Corthie. ‘What are the chances the soldiers are after us? They’ll be going to the fields to break up the fight.’
They moved to the side of the track as the thud of boots grew louder, then Corthie noticed steel armour glinting in the moonlight. The lead ranks of the Banner soldiers slowed as they saw Corthie and Van.
‘It’s him!’ one of the officers shouted. ‘Right where the blessed Second Ascendant told us he would be. Remember, lads, it’s five thousand gold sovereigns for the one who brings me his head!’
Van glanced at Corthie. ‘You were saying?’
Corthie leaped up onto the saddle of the horse, then pulled Van up after him. Taking the reins in both hands, he turned the gelding and urged it into a gallop. The horse responded, its steel-clad hooves clattering off the stones of the track as the soldiers began to chase them. Van clung on to Corthie’s waist, his fingers gripping his belt as the gelding sped along the track. Corthie guided the horse into the field where the two gangs were fighting, and people dived out of their way.
Corthie brought the horse to a halt, and glanced around at the angry faces of the gang members.
‘The Banner is coming!’ he yelled, pointing towards the track. ‘They’re coming to kill us all!’
The first soldiers burst into the field, and several began loosing their crossbows in the direction of Corthie. A Shinstran was hit, the bolt ripping across his face, and a young Torduan standing by the horse took a bolt in his guts.
‘Fight!’ cried Corthie from the horse. ‘Defend yourselves!’
Many members of the two gangs were staring in shock as more soldiers entered the field, but a few clutched their weapons and rallied. Bolts were being loosed into the crowd, and more fell amid screams, panic, and a rising tide of anger.
Corthie raised his arm. ‘Follow me!’
He charged at the soldiers, and the mob roared, and followed him. A dozen more were hit by bolts as they crossed the distance, and then the gangs were in amongst the Banner soldiers, and all semblance of order and control was lost. Corthie leaned over in the saddle and smashed the hammer into the face of a soldier, but then the gelding was struck by a bolt and stumbled, sending Corthie and Van flying to the ground. Corthie rolled and picked up a shield from a soldier lying with a pickaxe lodged in his back, then sheltered behind it as more crossbow bolts were aimed at him. All around him was blood and chaos, as the gangs tore the soldiers to pieces. The Banner troopers, outnumbered ten to one, tried to withdraw, but the narrow track became a crowded bottleneck, and any who had entered the field were cut down in the carnage. Corthie drove forward, using the shield to batter any soldier who stood in his way. The blood-soaked hammer slipped from his hand, and he picked up a sword. Battle-vision flooded his senses, and he cut his way into the heart of the Banner regiment, memories of the Falls of Iron and Fordamere shining in his mind. Behind him, the gangs cheered him on, and rushed to follow, and like savage beasts they ripped through the soldiers, until the survivors broke and fled, throwing away their shields and running down the track to safety.
Corthie raised his sword, and the mob roared in victory, their old rivalries temporarily forgotten.
‘We beat the Banner!’ yelled a man covered from head to foot in blood.
Strangers slapped Corthie’s back, while the bodies of the dead soldiers were looted, their weapons and armour stripped from them.
Corthie blinked as his battle-vision receded. Van. He turned, his eyes scanning the ground, then he hurried back the way he had come. He saw the gelding first. It was lying on its side, blood seeping from several bolt wounds, its lifeless eyes open. Van was propped up next to it, leaning against the dead horse’s flank. Corthie crouched down by them.
‘Are you alright?’
Van coughed up some blood, then hugged his ribs. ‘It might be time for some of that salve you were talking about.’
‘But how will I get any out here?’
‘The Banner soldiers,’ gasped Van; ‘they might be carrying some. Check their pockets for a small vial.’
Corthie rushed back across the field of dead. He searched through the pockets of the first few soldiers he came to, but found no salve on them. He noticed a soldier with officer insignia on his helmet, and ran over to the body. A Shinstran civilian was pulling the boots from the officer’s feet as he approached, and the man nodded to Corthie as he started to look through his pockets.
His fingers found a glass vial, and he took it out and held it up to the moon. Inside, a silvery liquid was swirling. Corthie ran back to Van and handed him the vial.
‘None of the troopers had any,’ Corthie said, ‘only the officers.’
‘They must be running low up on Old Alea,’ Van said. He removed the stopper, lifted the vial to his lips and drank.
Corthie watched as Van’s body writhed for a moment, his face contorted. Colour returned to his cheeks, and he groaned.
‘That was amazing,’ he gasped. ‘I feel like I could take on the Ascendants on my own.’
‘Give me the rest of it,’ said Corthie; ‘you know, to keep temptation out of your reach.’
Van glanced at the half-full vial, and hesitated for a moment before handing it over. Corthie tucked it into a pocket.
‘I already want more,’ Van said. ‘Nothing feels as good, nothing.’
Corthie frowned at the mercenary, wondering if he had done the right thing.
‘Hey, you,’ cried a voice; ‘the big guy.’
Corthie turned to see a group approaching him. Half were wearing assorted pieces of looted Banner armour, and all had swords.
‘Aye?’ he said.
‘We saw you lead the attack on the soldiers,’ the man said. ‘Are you a demigod?’
‘I’m a man, like you.’
‘I’m handy in a fight, but I’m nothing like you. You moved like you had battle-vision.’
Corthie noticed that the group around him was growing. ‘What do you want from me?’
The man gestured back towards the flames of the ruined city. ‘The waves,’ he said, ‘the fires, the earthquakes… Some of us here think that the gods have done something to destroy Alea Tanton. I thought maybe you were a demigod; I thought maybe that you’d know.’
Corthie stood. ‘I am mortal, but I know what’s happening.’ He waited as the crowd listened. ‘Up in Old Alea, the Second Ascendant is watching over his handiwork. H
e has decided to destroy all of Lostwell. The devastation you witnessed here today is going on all over Khatanax, and it will get worse.’
‘Why?’ the man cried.
‘None of your lives mean anything to the gods,’ said Corthie. ‘They don’t care about you; they’re up there drinking and laughing while they watch millions die. I’m going to do something about that. I’m going to walk up to Old Alea, and show the gods that not all mortals are yet beaten. If any of you want to, you can follow me.’
The crowd around him stood in silence, as if stunned that anyone would suggest opposing the gods. Van got to his feet next to him, and they began walking towards the track, the crowd parting before them. Van stopped, and pointed at the body of a tall Banner soldier.
‘That breastplate might fit you, Corthie,’ he said.
Van crouched down and started unstrapping the armour from the body as the crowd grew and grew.
‘Who are you?’ shouted a young man.
Corthie glanced up. ‘My name is Corthie Holdfast.’
‘You’re not a Shinstran, or a Torduan, and you certainly ain’t a damn Fordian.’
‘I am not from Khatanax, and Alea Tanton is not my city, but I will fight the gods who did this. I fought Banner forces at the Falls of Iron and in Yoneath, and I have killed three gods. This night, I hope to kill more.’
Van stood, the breastplate in his hands, and strapped it over Corthie’s chest, as the masses of gang members and civilians stared at him.
‘There you go,’ said Van, stepping back. ‘Shield, sword and breastplate. You could almost pass for Banner. All you need is a helmet.’
‘Then I’d better do without one. The last thing I want is anyone to mistake me for Banner.’
‘The soldiers are only doing their jobs, Corthie.’
‘I know. I’ve no doubts that they have good men and women in their ranks, but tonight, they’re the only ones standing between us and Old Alea. Tonight, they are the enemy.’
He began walking along the track, and again the crowd parted to let him pass. He crossed the threshold where the last bodies lay, and carried on. Next to him strode Van, his demeanour completely altered by the dose of salve. He seemed alert and strong, and his eyes were wide.
Behind them, Corthie became aware that at least some of the crowd was following. Hushed whispering reached his ears, along with the clank of ill-fitting armour.
‘What will the Banner soldiers do next?’ said Corthie.
‘Their orders seemed clear enough,’ said Van. ‘They were after you, and I heard the sum of five thousand gold sovereigns mentioned. That would be enough for any soldier to retire on. My guess is that they’ll retreat for half a mile or so and then re-group. They’ll sneak scouts along either side of this track, who will run back and report our position as soon as they’ve seen us, and then they’ll probably set up ambushes. That’s what I’d do.’
Corthie picked up his pace. ‘Then we run, and deny them the time they need to organise.’
He broke into a sprint, his shield covering his left side, and his head down. He powered his battle-vision to a higher intensity, and wondered if salve would help prolong it, or even heighten it. He could take it whenever he began to tire, or if he got injured; whichever happened first.
He charged along the track, his senses picking up the sound of Van running a few paces behind him, and a large body of soldiers ahead. In front of him, the track opened out onto a wide farmyard, where the Banner had paused in their flight from the mob. Soldiers were standing in groups, catching their breath in the light of the moon and the flames. Many had their backs to the track, while officers tried to re-organise their ranks. A few shouted warnings as Corthie raced into the yard, and for a moment panic gripped them as they assumed that the mob had closed with them. Corthie charged into them, his shield battering soldiers from his path, but the soldiers closed ranks, their discipline holding them together.
Corthie abandoned himself to his battle-vision, his limbs moving automatically, but he wasn’t fighting greenhides in the wastes beyond the Great Wall, and within moments, the professional soldiers were flanking round his sides to surround him, their shields raised. He glanced back at the track, but Van was nowhere to be seen, and then he had to concentrate on nothing more than staying alive as the ring around him began to close in.
He had made a mistake. If he had been wearing his old set of steel armour, and had been wielding the Clawhammer, then it would have been different, but his back and his limbs were unprotected against the swords of the Banner soldiers.
‘Cut him down,’ cried an officer, ‘and every man here will receive his share of the reward!’
A loud roar rose up from the yard. At first, Corthie thought it had come from the soldiers around him, but then he noticed many of them glancing back towards the track in alarm. It was the mob. Hundreds of armed civilians were flooding the yard, pushing the Banner soldiers back, and the lines of soldiers bent, buckled, then broke under the pressure. They tried to retreat from the yard, but many were cut down as they fled, the mob’s momentum unstoppable.
‘You idiot,’ cried Van, as he reached Corthie’s side. ‘Were you trying to get yourself killed?’
Corthie lowered his sword, panting. ‘It seemed like a good idea at the time.’ He pointed at the fleeing soldiers as they scattered back towards Old Alea. ‘And look, it worked.’
‘Only because I ran back and told the civilians to move their asses.’
‘You did that? Thanks.’
The yard was packed with armed civilians, and they cleared a space around Corthie and Van.
‘You asked them to follow you,’ said Van. ‘Now you’ll have to lead them.’
Corthie turned to gaze up at the high cliffs of Old Alea. ‘What’s next?’
‘The garrison had a fort at the base of the promontory, but it was next to the ocean, and most of it will be under water. The start of the ramp that leads up the slope emerges from the gates of the fortress, and this whole side of the cliffs has a low wall at the bottom to stop anyone getting to the ramp any other way.’
‘Can we climb this wall?’
‘Yes. It has no parapet, but once we’re past it, we’ll be in range of the ballistae up on the walls at the top of the cliff. If you lead the civilians that way, it will be a massacre.’
‘Take us there,’ said Corthie; ‘I want to see for myself.’
* * *
An hour later, Corthie, Van, and several hundred civilians reached an area where the ground had been cleared. The slums of the Shinstran district came to an abrupt halt twenty yards from the low wall that Van had mentioned. To their right, the high battlements of the garrison fortress towered above the roofs of the slum dwellings, and the line of the ramp was visible as it snaked up the side of the cliff towards Old Alea. Corthie told the gang leaders to wait in the shadows of the slums, and he and Van ran to the low wall, and climbed up to take a look. Beyond, a large garden had been laid out next to the steep cliffside, but it looked as though it had been neglected for years, and was overgrown and withered.
‘Every inch of land here,’ said Van, ‘can be seen by the soldiers up on the battlements, and the walls on this side of Old Alea have dozens of ballistae, designed to repel any uprising by the locals.’ He pointed up, and Corthie squinted into the darkness. At the top of the ramp was a huge gatehouse, its strong gates firmly closed.
‘What about the other sides?’ he said. ‘Are they unprotected?’
‘Yes, but for the simple reason that it’s impossible to climb up any of them.’
‘It can’t be impossible.’
‘You and I might be able to scale the cliffs, but then we’d reach the wall at the top, and there’s no way through that.’
‘Then we’ll have to charge the gatehouse.’
‘It would be a slaughter, Corthie. The civilians wouldn’t get halfway up the ramp.’
They jumped off the wall, landing back onto the side of the Shinstran district.
‘We have no choice,’ said Corthie. ‘We can’t just sit here and wait to die.’
Van nodded, his eyes dark, then his body shook and he fell to one knee.
‘Van!’ cried Corthie.
The mercenary glanced up, his eyes glazed over. ‘Hello, nephew.’
Corthie stumbled back a step, his eyes wide.
‘I only have a minute, so listen carefully.’
‘Sable? What the… How…?’
‘How do you think, nephew? I’m in his mind; a place I’ve visited several times. I’m on my way, but it’ll be another hour or so before I reach Alea Tanton; I’m just having a quick break, and thought I’d try to find you. Forget your stupid plan; all it will do is get you and Van killed, and dear old Aila would be most upset, not to mention Kelsey.’
‘You’ve seen them? They’re alive?’
‘Alive and well, nephew. Now, listen to me. There is another way up onto the promontory, one that I spotted months ago when I was living there. I know it works, because I sent Millen that way when he needed to escape from Old Alea.’
‘Millen?’
‘Never mind. I’ve imprinted the route into Van’s brain, so that when he awakes, he’ll know which way to go. I’ll meet you up there, and then we’ll get you a Quadrant.’
‘The Ascendants are destroying Lostwell, Sable; all of it. The Second Ascendant…’
‘I already know this, Corthie; I’m in Van’s mind. I may have been wrong about Belinda. Get up there, and break into Old Alea, and together we’ll wreak some havoc. Got it?’
‘Eh, aye, alright.’
‘Bye.’
Van slumped forward and groaned. ‘Sable…’ he muttered; ‘again.’
Corthie crouched by him. ‘Did you hear what she said?’
‘Of course I heard; her voice sounded like a bell ringing through my mind.’
‘Do you know the way?’
He nodded. ‘It’s been stamped into my head like a boot in the face.’
They hurried back to the shelter of the ruined slums that edged the Shinstran district. Waiting for them was the leadership of the mob, made up of gang bosses from the Blue Thumbs and Bloodflies supporters, their enmities forgotten in the chaos and violence of the previous day and night.
Gates of Ruin (Magelands Eternal Siege, #6) Page 39
