Days Of Light And Shadow (64 page)

“I’m looking at it right now. Fifty leagues past the Python Pass as you head south along the old copper trail. Then a turn to the west just opposite the smoking flat top mountain. Ten leagues along an old miners track until you reach the small peaks overlooking the Anara River. Then there’s a pass through the mountains, and the temple is another eight leagues west, hidden in a huge fen.” That was fairly much the same directions he had been given before from Iros. So maybe the boy’s wife wasn’t completely moon misted after all.

“Riders were sent there at least a month ago. They have not returned.” And worse they hadn’t sent the pigeons they’d brought with them back either. It stank of trouble.

“And I fear they will not. These lands are thick with the army of abominations.” Finell could be right, but it still left him with no evidence save his word. The word of a man who had started a war with Irothia in secret and then steadfastly lied about it.

“You are not one of mine.” Herrick spoke bluntly as he was want to. He wasn’t sure that the beggar elf was lying. In fact he almost believed him. But in the end almost just wasn’t quite enough to commit his armies and the safety of Irothia too. He sensed that the court wasn’t completely with him on that. Some of the nobles were nodding in agreement with him. Others were making quiet noises of doubt under their breath. But that was a part of being a king. To make the right decisions, not necessarily the easy ones.

“Of course.” Finell’s face fell a little, though surely he had to have expected his response. The two of them had been at war not that long before.

“Highness, if I were to ask Queen Aquina to send some wind riders and they reached the temple, would you believe her?”

“I would listen carefully to what she had to say.” Herrick couldn’t commit himself, but still he had a great deal of trust in the queen. The two of them had been dealing with one another since he had assumed the throne nearly fifty years before. He knew her, and while she might be faith addled like his aunt, he respected her mind and her heart.

“Thank you highness.” Finell’s face lifted and he bowed hurriedly. “I will visit with her at once.”

Then he was gone. No noise, no thunder, no indication that he was leaving. He was just gone, leaving Herrick wondering if he’d ever actually been there at all. But he could see in the faces of all the rest that they were just as puzzled. Even Luree, probably the only person in the entire room that had met Finell before, was looking confused.

“Court’s adjourned.” Herrick made the announcement as he stood up and headed for the war room, uncaring that the court should have run for hours more. He suddenly knew one thing. He needed to talk to his commanders. If they were going to be given a chance to strike at the Reaver’s temple, Irothia had to be ready to take it.

The alternative was to wait for the Reaver’s horde of abominations to come to them. For an endless army of the shuffling monstrosities to invade A prospect that didn’t bear thinking about. But the same night terror that had been played out a thousand years before. That could not happen again.

He had spent all these months preparing his armies; maybe it was finally time to use them.

Chapter One Hundred and Two.

It was early in the morning when the abominations began their advance into the heart of Vidoran. Until then they’d only raided the small towns in the north of Vidoran, the lands closest to the wastes and beyond them Elaris.  The casualties from those attacks however, had still been terrible. Every day it seemed another caravan of survivors from whatever town they’d attacked headed south, crossing the bridge that spanned the canyon between Vidoran and Northern Vidoran.

Every day the people of the small town of Pensa Ne found themselves handing out food and provisions to them, tending to the wounded, and sending the survivors on to the gnomish cities further south, all the while wondering when the war would reach them? As town after town was hit and the war came closer, they knew that it couldn’t be far away.

Soon the abominations would have to try to take the bridge. It was the only crossing over the chasm that split the northern lands from the southern, for at least eighty leagues in both directions. If they wanted to take their cities and the millions of gnomes who called them home, they’d have to take the bridge. And that meant taking the bridge town, Pensa Ne.

Because of that the town had been preparing. The guards had been training with the new weapons the technologists had built for them. The wagons and horses were kept  to hand ,just in case while those who were too old or infirm to fight had already been sent away. Dandis had been wondering if he’d be sent away too, but in the end he’d been allowed to stay. The injury to his leg was minor and he had trained with the fire sticks. They needed everyone they had who could use the brutish weapons.

As for the rest of the villagers, they spent every day nervously waiting, and the mood in the town was far quieter than normal. And Pensa Ne was a quiet town. The locals liked it that way. 

Gnomes were naturally a quiet people. The other races didn’t understand that, Dandis thought. They viewed the gnomes’ brightly coloured wagons travelling the world, and, having heard the practiced bargaining skills of their traders, no doubt thought that gnomes were a naturally outgoing people. It would therefore have been  a surprise to them that none of the traders ever visited the  local inns and alehouses nor joined in the local festivities of whatever town they were in. The traders in fact kept much to their own company.

It wasn’t that they were aloof. That they considered themselves better than the others in any way. It was simply that they were always of family. They didn’t have clans like the dwarves. Nor did they have houses such as the elves seemed to live for. Not even tribes like the trolls. Every gnome lived purely for his or her family. And every trader that travelled the world, brought his family with him. For they couldn’t stand to be parted from their loved ones. Not for  long lengths of time. And when you had your family with you, you didn’t frequent inns and alehouses. You had no need of houses of ill repute. And you watched the often wild festivities of other races from a safe distance.

It was the same with their towns. In Catalbria they’d created a great city of finery and magnificence. But it was a lie. An illusion they’d created simply to make the other races think that they were something they weren’t, great. Other kingdoms would deal respectfully with a realm. But if their neighbours were a bunch of small villages and towns of no great strength, they might simply invade. But in the towns the truth of their nature was obvious.

There were no castles, no great buildings, no magnificent halls and temples. Gnomes didn’t have such things and they didn’t want them. Dandis didn’t want them. As a younger man he had travelled the world with the caravans. He had seen the great cities of the world, and the magnificent buildings. He wanted none of them. What they had in Pensa Ne were homes. Lots and lots of homes. All of them small, single story and of only a few rooms. But they were warm and dry, and they kept a family safe and comfortable. What more did a man need? What use was grandeur?

Shops in the town were mostly only one room buildings. The town’s infirmary was simply a set of small shelters ringing the herbalists garden and clinic. The workshops where their artisans crafted their wares were little larger. The school was a set of outdoor classrooms and a few shelters where the chalk boards were used. And where the humans would have a huge town hall or the like, the gnomes held their meetings outside in the common areas. In the rain and the mud often enough.

Despite being home to over fifteen thousand people, Pensa Ne was really just a large village.

The other races would have called the village open if they’d seen it. Weak and vulnerable. They would have laughed. They had laughed as they’d passed it on their journey south to Catalbria. It had no walls, no fortifications. It had little in the way of patrols, just a town guard. And the people didn’t wear weapons openly. The dwarves and humans would have scoffed at its ability to defend itself, the trolls too. But had they attacked they would have found out that the gnomes were tougher opponents than they realised. Dandis was actually quite proud of what they’d achieved with their technologica. He knew it could turn the tide of battle. And he knew he could be a part of that.

So when the first of the abominations headed out of the forest and made for the bridge, the warning bells sounded and the guards raced to the north face of the village, Dandis grabbed his fire stick, slung it and the crutch over his shoulders and joined them. He knew he’d be needed, injured leg and all. By then everyone had heard enough stories of the enemy to know that they had to be ready at all times.

Each fire stick was really just a very small cannon. Small enough to be wielded by one man, provided he used the support, a crutch that was thrust into the ground and which could hold the weight of the barrel as it was used. With a six foot long barrel of heavy steel it was simply too much for a man to hold and aim the weapon without it. But with it, the weapons were a joy to use.

Quickly, well before the first of the monstrosities had made it across the bridge, fifty men stood ready, forming a defensive line on the north side of the village. And Dandis stood with them.

Each of them waited nervously as the creatures charged towards them, knowing that not only their own lives but also the lives of everyone else in the village depended on them. But they also knew that they had trained for this. That it had always been coming. And that even if everything went wrong and they failed, they could at least slow the enemy down while the others fled.

Range was their biggest problem. The fire sticks could kill a man at three hundred paces as easily as a longbow. But they had the same problem as the rangers had when the enemy shuffled and weaved crazily, like a drunk at the end of the night, - hitting him. So the gnomes had forgone range for a better chance of hitting them, and had replaced the balls with shot. The shot would spread out as it did in other cannon and destroy whatever it hit, but it was only effective up to fifty paces. That was much too close. When it took a good thirty panicking beats of a man’s heart to reload, it was terrifyingly close.

Still that was the plan, and as the gnomes stood there waiting, the barrels of their fire sticks cradled in the crutches, no one made the mistake of firing early. They just waited while their hearts beat loudly in their chests.

Then the first of the creatures shuffled across the fifty pace marker they’d set out and the first guard squeezed the flint release. Instantly the sound of thunder split the air, while the barrel spat out a cloud of smoke and fire. And fifty paces away the nearest creature fell down.

It wasn’t a perfect shot. The thing had weaved around too much for that. But still even though it wriggled and writhed about on the ground they knew it would not be getting up again. Not soon. Not with half its hip missing along with its left leg and the lower part of its left arm. If it had been flesh and blood it would have been dead, but for the moment it was enough that it was completely crippled. Dandis would have shouted for joy at the sight, but the captain would have disapproved. Loudly.

Shot taken the first guard dropped his fire stick to the ground and immediately started ramming the barrel with his swabs just as they did with a cannon. First to clean it, then to pour more powder down its barrel, and finally to load the small wad of shot ready to fire again. He had practiced the technique daily for months, they all had, but still he looked panicked. He didn’t have to be though. While he reloaded, the man to his left had taken up firing position and was waiting for the next abomination to step across the fifty pace line.

It wasn’t long before that happened, and once more thunder split the air. His shot was more fortunate than his comrades and the thing fell down, headless and chestless. It wasn’t getting up again. And the sight provided them all some cheer. For the moment they knew, they had the battle in hand. While the abominations came across the bridge and raced towards them in a single file, they were safe.

Fortunately they did just that. One by one and later in their twos and threes, but no more, they kept advancing on them, and the guards simply blew them apart. Dandis was amazed at their stupidity, but he didn’t complain when his first shot tore one of the things in two. He celebrated, quietly.

For an hour and then two, the battle continued like that, and the piles of the black blooded creatures grew in front of them. And all that time Dandis kept wondering how long it could last like that. Surely sooner or later some of them had to see the body parts of their dead comrades strewn all around and start to think. But as the boys kept racing around among them, bringing them fresh horns full of black powder and more shot, and the green grass was slowly carpeted with black blood and pieces of flesh, they just kept coming.

Then they grew smart and he suddenly regretted every terrible thought he’d had.

They first realised that things had changed, when the abominations stopped coming, and for a brief moment they thought they’d won. Until the scouts with the looking glasses told them that instead they were massing. Thousands might be dead, but it seemed that thousands more were massing on the far side of the bridge, preparing for a mass charge.

That wasn’t supposed to happen. These things weren’t supposed to be able to plan. Not as far as Dandis had heard. But it didn’t matter. Whatever was supposed to happen or not happen was irrelevant. The only thing that mattered was what was happening. And luckily they had a plan for that too.

“Trebuchets!” The captain standing in the middle of the line screamed the command and immediately people started running.

Pensa Ne had built two huge trebuchets over the previous months, each of them four stories high and capable of flinging massive loads of stone incredible distances. Further even than the best cannon. Far enough to reach the distant side of the bridge nearly a thousand paces away.

But they weren’t going to fire stones. Not this time. Against a normal enemy stones would be perfectly good weapons. Because a normal enemy would fall down when a stone the size of a fist smashed into his shoulder or his chest or his knee. But abominations had only one weak point, their heads, and any other hit was a waste of time. They would just keep coming.

At least that had been the understanding until a few months before when someone had reported that the things burnt. That was unexpected, but it was also a gift from the heavens. Burning might not stop them instantly, and in sooth the reports had said that even on fire the things still came for their prey. But it would stop them. At the very least sooner or later there would be only ashes left, and ashes didn’t attack people.

So the technologists had been busy for months in their workshops blowing up thousands upon thousands of little glass orbs. Each of them was then filled with lamp oil, the good stuff not the oily paraffin that burnt with a smoky flame and filled the air with the smell of cooking. And on the outside of each orb was a small glass container filled with glycerine and containing a piece of spelled white phosphorous. It was a simple weapon. The glycerine kept the phosphorous calm. But when the orbs hit, whether they hit an abomination or grass, the glass would break. The oil would be splashed everywhere, and the phosphorous free of the glycerine would begin to burn. It would set the oil aflame. And after that the rest of the clearing would burn along with everything in it. At least that was the plan.

No one knew for certain that it would work, Dandis least of all. The tests had worked, but the tests hadn’t been carried out against an actual enemy. And there were so many things that could go wrong. The wind was almost nothing, but a slight breeze at the wrong moment could send the orbs wildly off course. They could get the range just the tiniest bit wrong and miss completely. Or the trebuchets could even fail. This was at the very edge of their range and the massive wooden arm was creaking alarmingly as the weights were added. And they had to wait until the enemy was massed on the far side of the bridge in sufficient numbers. They had only a few shots and they had to make them count.