Guy remained
silent, watching as the morning sun rose, and as the besieging army
stood down, returning to camp, but still isolating the city. For
hours the Protector and his commanders just watched.
Torches burned
brightly all along the wall. Soldiers kept vigil on all fronts, under
the command of Armand de Sevigny. The bulk of the populace assembled
in the great market.
Jimmy and
Locklear moved through the crowd. They found Krinsta and Bronwynn and
moved alongside the girls. Jimmy began to speak, but Krinsta motioned
for silence as Guy, Arutha, and Amos stepped onto the platform. With
them stood an old man, dressed in a brown robe that appeared as
ancient as its wearer. He held an ornate staff, incised with
scrollwork and runic symbols along its entire length, in the crook of
his arm.
“Who’s
he?” asked Locklear.
“The
Lawkeeper,” whispered Bronwynn. “Hush.”
The old man
raised his free hand and the crowd became silent. “The
volksraad meets. Hear, then, the law. What is spoken is true. What is
counselled is heeded. What is decided is the will of the folk.”
Guy raised his
hands above his head. He spoke. “Into my care you have given
this city. I am your Protector. I now counsel this: our foe awaits
without and seeks to gain with fine-sounding words what he will not
gain by strength of arms. Who will speak to his cause?”
A voice from the
crowd said, “Long have the moredhel been the enemies of our
blood. What service can we take in their cause?”
Another
answered, “Still, may we not hear again this Murmandamus? He
speaks fairly.” All eyes turned toward the Lawkeeper.
The Lawkeeper
closed his eyes and was silent for a time. Then he spoke. “The
Law says that the moredhel are beyond the conventions of men. They
have no bond with the folk. But in the Fifteenth Year the Protector
Bekinsmaan did meet with one called Turanalor, chieftain of the Clan
Badger moredhel in the Vale of Isbandia, and a truce during Banapis
was established. It lasted for three midsummers. When Turanalor
vanished in the Edder Forest, during the Nineteenth Year, his
brother, Ulmslascor, became chieftain of Clan Badger. He violated the
truce, killing the entire population of Dibria’s Kraal.”
He seemed to evaluate the traditions as he knew them. “It is
not unprecedented to listen to the words of the moredhel, but caution
is urged, for they are treacherous.”
Guy motioned
toward Arutha. “This man you have seen. He is Arutha, a prince
of the Kingdom that once you counted enemy. He is now our friend. He
is a distant kinsman of mine. He has had dealings with Murmandamus
before. He is not of Armengar. Will he be given voice in the
volksraad?”
The Lawkeeper
raised his hand in question. A chorus of affirmation sounded, and the
Lawkeeper indicated the Prince could speak. Arutha stepped forward.
“I have battled against this fiend’s minions before.”
In simple words he spoke of the Nighthawks, the wounding of Anita,
and the journey to Moraelin. He spoke of the moredhel chieftain,
Murad, who was slain by Baru. He spoke of the terrors and evils seen,
all fashioned by Murmandamus.
When he was
done, Amos raised his hands and spoke. “I came to you sick and
wounded. You cared for me, a stranger. Now I am one of you. I speak
of this man Arutha. I lived with him, fought beside him, and learned
to count him friend for four years. He is without guile. He has a
generous heart and his words can be counted as bond. What he has said
can only be the truth.”
Guy shouted,
“What can our answer be?”
Swords were
lifted and torches brandished as a chorus of shouts echoed across the
great market. “
No
!”
Guy waited while
the host of Armengar cried out their defiance to Murmandamus. He
stood with hands fisted, black gauntlets held high above his head
while the sound of Armengar’s thousands washed over him. His
single eye seemed alight and his face was alive, as if the courage of
the city’s populace was sweeping away his fatigue and sorrows.
To Jimmy, he looked a man renewed.
The Lawkeeper
waited until the din died, then said, “The volksraad has
decreed the law. This is the law: no man will quit the city to serve
this Murmandamus. Let no man violate the law.”
Guy said,
“Return to your places. Tomorrow the battle begins in earnest.”
The crowd began
to disperse and Jimmy said, “I didn’t doubt this would
happen for a minute.”
Locklear said,
“Still, that Dark Brother with the beauty mark has a way with
words.”
Bronwynn said,
“True, but we have fought the moredhel since the beginning of
Armengar. There can be no peace between us.” She looked at
Locklear, a serious expression on her pretty face. “When are
you to report?”
He said, “Jimmy
and I have duty at first light.”
She and Krinsta
exchanged glances and nods. Bronwynn took Locklear by the hand. “Come
with me.”
“Where?”
“I have a
house we may stay in tonight.” Firmly she led him away from his
friend, through the evaporating press of the volksraad.
Jimmy glanced at
Krinsta. “He’s never -”
She said,
“Neither has Bronwynn. She has decided if she is to die
tomorrow, she will at least know one man.”
Jimmy thought a
moment. “Well, at least she’s picked a gentle lad.
They’ll be good to each other.”
Jimmy began to
move and was halted by Krinsta’s restraining hand. He looked
back to find her studying his face in the torchlight. “I also
have not known the pleasures of the bedchamber,” she said.
Jimmy suddenly
felt the blood rise in his face. For all the time spent together,
Jimmy had never been able to get Krinsta off alone. The four had
spent hours together, with some mock passion in dark doorways, but
the girls had always managed to keep the two squires under control.
And always there had been a sense that it was all somehow play. Now,
suddenly, Jimmy knew there was no more play. There was a serious note
of approaching doom and a desire to live more intensely, even if only
for one night. At last he said, “I have, but only twice.”
She took his
hand. “I also have a house we may use.” Silently she led
Jimmy away. As he followed he was aware of a new feeling inside. He
felt a sense of the inevitability of death, for it had been etched in
bold relief against this desire to affirm life. And with it came
fear. Jimmy squeezed Krinsta’s hand tightly as he walked with
her.
Couriers raced
along the wall, carrying messages. The Armengarian tactic was simple.
They waited. As dawn broke, they had seen Murmandamus ride forth, his
white horse prancing as it moved back and forth before his assembled
host. It was clear he waited for an answer. The only answer he
received was silence.
Arutha had
convinced Guy to do nothing. Each hour gained before the attack was
another hour relief might be coming. If Murmandamus expected the
gates to open, or a defiant challenge, he was disappointed, for only
the sight of silent lines of Armengarian defenders atop the wall
greeted him. At last he rode forward, until he stood at midpoint
between his army and the walls. Again by arcane arts his voice could
be clearly heard.
“O my
reluctant children, why do you hesitate? Have you not taken counsel?
Do you not see the folly in opposing? What, then, is your answer?”
Silence was his
only reply. Guy had given orders that no one was to speak above a
whisper, so that any who were tempted to shout taunts would be
halted. There would be no excuse for Murmandamus to order an attack
one moment before necessary. Again the horse pranced in a circle. “I
must know!” shrieked Murmandamus. “If an answer is not
forthcoming by the time I return to the lines of my host, then shall
death and fire be visited upon you.”
Guy slammed his
gloved fist against the walls. “Damn me if I’ll wait five
more minutes. Catapults!”
By signal he
ordered them fired. A hail of stones the size of melons arced
overhead and came crashing down about Murmandamus. The white stallion
was struck and collapsed in a bloody shower. Murmandamus rolled free
and was struck repeatedly by stones. A wild cheer went up from the
walls.
Then it died as
Murmandamus regained his feet. Unmarked, he strode toward the walls,
until he was within bow range. “Spurn my largess and my bounty.
Refuse my dominion. Then know destruction!”
Archers fired,
but the arrows bounced away from the moredhel as if he were enveloped
in some sort of protective shell. He pointed his sword and a strange,
dull explosive sound came from it as blasts of scarlet fire shot
forth. The first blast erupted along the edge of the walls, and three
archers screamed in agony as their very bodies exploded in flames.
Others ducked below the wall as blast after blast struck. With the
entire force of defenders crouching, no further damage was sustained.
With a bellow of rage, Murmandamus turned to face his army and
shrieked, “Destroy them!”
Guy glanced over
a crenel and saw the moredhel striding away while his army poured
across the plain past him. Like a calm island in a sea of chaos he
walked back toward the waiting platform and throne.
Then Guy ordered
the war engines loosed, and a rain of destruction began. The
assaulting forces faltered, but regained momentum as they approached
the walls. The moat had been cluttered with debris and platforms from
earlier assaults, and again more platforms were thrown across the
water. More scaling ladders were lifted and again attackers swarmed
upward.
Giants ran
forward, pushing odd-looking boxes, some twenty feet on a side and
ten feet high. These rolled on wheeled platforms, with long poles
extending to the front and rear, bumping over the rough terrain and
fallen bodies. When they were near the wall, some mechanism was
triggered, for the poles moved under the boxes, lifting them upward
to a level with the top of the wall. Suddenly the fronts of the boxes
fell forward, forming a platform, and goblins came swarming out to
stand upon the walls of Armengar, while rope ladders were lowered
from the boxes so more invaders might climb up. At dozens of points
along the wall, this tactic was repeated until hundreds of moredhel,
goblins, and trolls fought in bloody hand-to-hand combat with the
defenders of the city.
Arutha dodged a
blow by a goblin and ran the green-skinned creature through, causing
it to fall screaming to the stones of the bailey below. Armengarian
children ran forward with drawn daggers and ensured the creature was
dead. Everyone who could serve in the battle did so.
The Prince of
Krondor ran past Amos, who struggled with a moredhel, each holding
the other’s wrist. Arutha hit the moredhel in the head with his
hilt and continued to move along the wall. The dark elf staggered and
Amos grabbed it by the throat and crotch. He lifted and tossed the
creature over the wall, knocking down several more attempting to
climb a ladder. He and another defender then pushed the ladder away
from the wall.
Jimmy and
Locklear dashed along the wall, dealing blows where needed to win
past attackers who sought to slow them. Reaching the point where Guy
had his command, Jimmy said, “Sir, Armand says there is a
second wave of those boxes coming forward.”
Guy turned to
look at his defence. The walls were being swept clear of attackers
and almost all the ladders had been overturned. “Poles and
burning oil!” he shouted and the command was passed along the
wall.
When the second
wave of boxes rose to the wall, long poles, pole arms, and spears
were used to hold the falling front sections up, though several
attempts to do so failed. But those that held were followed by
leather bags of oil, which were tossed by strong-armed Armengarians
upon the sides of the boxes. They were fired by burning arrows and
quickly the boxes were ablaze. Screaming attackers jumped to their
death below rather than burn inside the boxes.
Those few
companies of moredhel who gained the walls were quickly disposed of,
and within an hour of the first assault the retreat sounded from the
field.
Arutha looked
about and turned to Guy. The Protector was breathing heavily, more
from tension than from the fighting. His command position had been
heavily defended so he could issue orders along the walls. He looked
back at the Prince. “We were lucky.” Rubbing his face
with his hands, he said, “Had that fool sent both waves at
once, he could have cleared a section before we knew what to do. We’d
be retreating through the streets.”
Arutha said,
“Perhaps, but you’ve a good army here, and they fought
well.”
Guy sounded
angry. “Yes, they fought well, and they die damn well, too. The
problem is keeping them alive.”
Turning to Jimmy
and Locklear and several other couriers, he said, “Call
officers to the forward command post. Ten minutes.” He said to
Arutha, “I’d like you to join us.”
Arutha washed
his bloody arms in fresh water provided by an old man pulling a cart
full of buckets, and said, “Of course.”
They left the
walls and descended the stairs to a home that had been converted to
Guy’s forward command post. Within minutes every company
commander and Amos and Armand were in his presence.
As soon as
everyone was there, Guy said, “Two things. First, I don’t
know how many such assaults we can safely repel, or if they have the
capacity for another like the last. Had they been a little more
intelligent in their use of those damn boxes, we’d be fighting
them in the streets now. We might repulse a dozen more such attacks,
or the next could finish us. I want the city evacuation begun at
once. The first two stages are to be finished by midnight. Horses and
provisions to the canyons, and the children made ready. And I want
the final two stages ready at my command anytime after. Second,
should anything occur, the order of command after me will be Amos
Trask, Armand de Sevigny, and Prince Arutha.”