Forever Knight (The Champion Chronicles Book 3) (30 page)

Elissa did not see Berrien strike the killing blow, for she had her own problems.  A man with a very long and bloody sword came at her.  And he would kill her unless something miraculous happened.

Roland’s smiling lips parted and he said, “You will die, queen.  Just as your city will die before the day is gone!”

His words had drawn away any fear that she had left.  In its place was anger.  “You will die, too!  My guards will kill you!”

“I am a soldier,” Roland said.  “It is my duty to serve my empire and die for its glory.  They are too late for you!”

“I am not too late!” Toknon shouted, jumping in front of Elissa.  His sword was bloodied as well.

Elissa looked over at the door.  The third man that had come into the room was slumped against the door.  There was blood all over his tunic and it was starting to pool on the ground in front of him.

“Where are the guards?” Elissa shouted, expecting them to come racing into her chamber to save them all.  But the antechamber was empty.

“I am here,” Toknon said, starting his attack on Roland.

Roland met the attack with his sword and a smile.  “Your kingdom will be next, Toknon.”

With cool precision, Toknon continued the attack, unwilling to engage in Roland’s banter.

Safe for the moment, Elissa turned away from the sword fight to see if she could save Kimmie, who had stopped screaming.  But it was too late.  She was on the ground, her body bloodied and unmoving.  The man who killed her stood over her, his dagger and right arm covered in blood.  He looked up at Elissa and smiled, as if saying that she was next.

Berrien stepped over the dead girl’s body towards the queen.  His mind was blank and numb.  He could only see blood and death in front of him.  Right now, his only duty was to his empire, and that meant assassinating the queen.

Toknon saw Berrien and tried to disengage from Roland, but the centurion commander would not let him.  They were nearly equal in skill, each unable to gain an advantage over the other.  With a sudden fear, he realized that is exactly what Roland wanted.  He did not want to kill Toknon, at least right now.  He just needed to give the other man time to get to Elissa.

In a desperate move to disengage, he tried to push Roland out of the way, but he exposed himself too much and Roland gave him a deep cut across his upper arm.  The searing pain distracted him enough that Roland pressed his attack, making it impossible for Toknon to get away without losing the fight and his life.

Berrien marched toward Elissa, his face still stuck in a wide grin.  She wasn’t sure which terrified her more, the dagger in his hand, or the evil look on his face.  Without any way to defend herself, she started backing away, hoping that the man would just go away.  But he did not; he continued forward.  She knew she was weak, too weak to defend herself.  Even if she had a sword, or dagger, or even a small knife, she didn’t know how to defend herself.  If she had been a boy, she would have spent the past ten years of her life learning how to fight, learning how to use a sword to defend herself.  Instead, she had spent all that time being a girl, dressing up in pretty dresses, taking long rides through the forest, and sharing gossip with her closest friends.  Nothing that she had done had prepared her for being queen or defending her kingdom.

And because of that, she would die, and her kingdom would be run over by an army from a nation that had promised peace.  Right in front of her, Kimmie was on the ground, still and dead.  Blood covered her body.  She had died without a fight, letting this man slaughter her like a farm animal.  She would not go so easily.

She had seen many tournaments in her life, although she had spent most of them chatting with her friends and not watching the actual fighting.  But she had seen some, and decided her only way to survive would be to mimic what they did.  She lowered her body into a crouch, one foot in front of the other.  She did not know why they had done it, but as soon as she did it, she realized that she gave her opponent less of a target.  Her hands were out in front of her, ready to try and deflect any blows.  She let out a sneer as she had seen the combatants do, hoping it would strike fear into her own opponent.

It did not.  He rushed forward, dagger raised to strike at her chest.

She let him get close and then as his hand went up high to strike her from above, she caught him around his wrist with both her hands.  His forward momentum caught her off guard, and she tumbled backwards onto the ground.  But she still held onto his wrists, keeping him from striking down on her.  But the man was stronger than she was, and she could feel her strength giving out.

Berrien knew it was only time.  He was on top of her, pushing down on the dagger.  Even though she had a vice grip on his wrist, the queen was struggling to keep the dagger off her.  It would only be moments before the dagger would plunge into her chest, killing her instantly.  He pushed harder and his smile grew wider.  Until his face suddenly went blank and his eyes got wide.  His mouth opened to speak, but no words came out.  With no more strength in his body, the dagger fell out of his grip.  The queen slid from underneath him and he fell onto his face.

Elissa rolled away and jumped to her feet.  Toknon was finishing off his opponent with the help of a guard who had just rushed into the room.  One of the other former knights was standing over Berrien and drove his sword into the dead man’s back one more time, just to make sure he was dead.

She dropped to her knees at Kimmie’s side and pulled her up and held her close.  She cried not because she was afraid or even because she was sad at the loss of her friend.  She cried because she was angry that she was unable to protect her friend, to protect herself.  Toknon came over to comfort her, but she pushed him away, not wanting anyone close to her.

“It is over,” Toknon said.  “They are all dead.  Are you okay?”

Elissa did not reply, she rocked Kimmie in her arms, letting the tears fall.

Chapter Nineteen

Marik raced to the top of the city walls.  The winding staircase that led to the battlements was steep and he took them two at a time.  By the time he reached the last step, he was panting hard.  He told himself that it was because of the extra weapons and armor that he wore, but in truth, he had hardly been training at all since winter came.  He had a good excuse, as he had been on the move for so long.  But it convinced him that he needed to get back onto the practice field.

If he survived the day.

He doubted there would be any real battle today.  Once they confirmed that the army was out there, they would no longer need to hide and would probably start to march down from the forest and attempt to establish position in the open field between the city and the forest.  While they did that, he would begin harassing attacks to keep them from getting too comfortable.  And it would give them time to build up their own army so that they could counter attack.  Then the fight for the city would begin.

There were seven riders on the fastest horses in the stables.  He chose all young men, former squires, who were adept with the horse and were fearless.  It would take some time for them to make their way through the streets outside the city gates, up the field, and to the edge of the forest.  They were also instructed not to take a direct path, so the nearly three-mile journey from the city wall to the first tree of the forest would end being more like a four-mile path.

His palms were sweaty and his heart pounded hard.  He would rather have been with them, but he knew that it was unlikely that they would make it back.

***

The centurion sentry raised a small red flag that only those behind him could see.  He did not turn to ensure that his signal was seen as his only duty was to raise the flag once the first expeditionary force left the city.  The middle sentry saw the outermost sentry raise his flag, so he turned and raised his own flag, which was immediately seen by the sentry standing next to the command tent.

The sentry at the command tent turned to the tent’s entrance and called out, “General!”

General Mace, who had been resting, leapt to his feet, casting aside the blanket that had kept him warm.  He stepped through the tent’s open flap and asked, “What is it?”

“Riders,” the sentry said.  “From the city.”

“Ready the crossbows,” General Mace ordered.  He began walking quickly along a freshly cut path to the edge of the forest.  The sentry pulled out another flag to signal the crossbowmen.  Their orders had already been established.  They only needed permission to carry them out, and now they had it.

General Mace did not stand right at the edge of the forest.  He stayed a few yards in so that he did not make a good target for any bowman that might be within range.  He doubted that any were, but he had served on too many campaigns in the north to not be careful.  The forest looked down upon the city, which allowed him to see far out into the Gulf of Taran.  He had been told that on a clear day, one could see the coast of Taran to the northwest, but he had a hard time believing that.

The ground gently sloped down to the city, which he had studied for many hours.  Most of the city was behind the wall that started at the top of the tall cliffs on the north, then circled around and met the edge of the cliffs on the south.  The walls were thick and strong, but they would eventually fall.  The castle itself would be more difficult to breach.  It was going to be a logistical nightmare to get his siege engines close enough to the castle walls to try and bring them down.  He would like to simply starve them out, but his orders were clear.  There would be no siege, there would only be a direct assault.  And if it didn’t start today, then he would be behind schedule.  And that was something that would not go well for his career.  Or his life.

He watched with interest as the seven riders approached.  For the first half of the distance, they rode in formation, but then they suddenly split in seven different directions.  General Mace smiled at the move.  It was the right move, which meant he was prepared for it.  Clearly their goal was to draw fire and expose the army.  Their commander obviously needed to know what type of force they were facing.  His smile fell at the first sound of crossbow bolts leaving their weapons.  He did not like war.  He did not like killing.  But it was what he did and what he was good at.  Many would die.  Some of those would be his own men, and he would feel genuine sorrow for them.  But warfare was not a place for emotion.

He turned to the centurion sentry that had followed him from his command tent.  “Wake the emperor.  Inform him the battle has begun.”

***

Marik had his answer.  Not soon after the seven riders split up, the crossbow bolts came.  The orders for his men were to disengage as soon as they were fired upon.  But they had no chance.  Hundreds of bolts were directed at each rider.  Only one of them made any attempt to avoid the incoming bolts, but his fate was no different than the others.  Seven men and seven horses fell dead in seconds.

Marik dropped to a knee, hoping that no one saw him.  He needed to be strong for his men and not show any weakness.  They needed hope, but Marik suddenly had none left to show.  So many crossbow bolts meant hundreds of crossbowmen.  And with those hundreds probably came thousands of infantry.  Taran had brought her entire army upon them and there was likely nothing they could do to stop them.

***

Tarcious moved with silent grace through the forest and stopped next to General Mace.  He could see the crossbowmen through the trees reloading their weapons.  Behind them their army hid in the forest, anxious to come out and fight.  Blood had been spilled and the centurions could smell it.

General Mace looked up at the emperor, who stood stoically, looking out towards the city.  He asked, “The siege engines?”

Tarcious looked down at his general and said, “You are the general.  This is your battle.  If you are too afraid of me to do your job, then I will get another.”

“I am not afraid,” General Mace said confidently.  He turned to the sentry and said, “Signal the trebuchet and the catapult companies.  Have them move them into position.”

“Yes, General,” the man said.  He turned and lifted his flags, waving them through the air.

Hardly a moment later, the forest came alive as teams of horses began pulling the siege engines into position.

***

It was clear to Marik that the army had been busy in the forest for more than just a single night as five massive machines were pulled out from the forest by teams of horses.  Two were of a very odd design that he did not recognize and three were more of a conventional catapult design.  The conventional catapults were pulled easily through the snow, their hastily crafted wooden wheels working well enough on the frozen ground.  They moved forward towards a position where they would be most likely to reach the walls.  But they moved at such a slow pace, it would take quite some time before they were close enough to reach the walls.  The other two siege engines stayed back near the tree line.  They were pulled into place on skids.  With no wheels, there were not made to be mobile, which caused him some confusion.  Aiming a catapult was simple.  If you were short, you pulled it forward.  If you were long, you pulled it back.  But without any easy means to move the catapult around, it would be difficult to hit a target.

The strange catapults had a central A-frame of timbers constructed near the front.  A long timber stuck out far to the back behind it with some sort of sack tied to the end.  In the front, a large bucket was tied to the end of the timber and men were loading large rocks into it.  This he found most odd, as the bucket did not appear to be attached to any mechanism that would allow the rocks to be thrown.

At least they were prepared to defend themselves.  He could not imagine the panic and chaos if the siege engines had suddenly appeared one morning and starting firing rocks upon the city without notice.  The city was too big to contain such a panic and control its people.  Families would have left in droves, taking with them fighting-capable men and boys.  There was still much fear, but the chaos was managed and minimized.  Guardsmen were stationed throughout the city gathering men to help defend the city.  Those that might have left in a panic were convinced to stay and fight not so much with words, but with the calmness of the soldiers and guard who walked the streets.

It was ironic that the queen’s decree to disband the knights was actually helping the situation.  Because well-trained and combat veteran men were scattered throughout the guard, they were able to keep the younger men calm, which in turn kept the people of the city calm as well.  Everyone was still afraid.  Even he was afraid.  But he had been in combat, seeing death up close and he was able to think and not run away in a panic.  He forced himself to be calm, and he knew that the other former knights were doing the same thing.  No knight would dare be caught crying out of fear, but that didn’t mean they didn’t feel any fear.

“Sir Marik!” An out of breath armored soldier called out to him from the steps that led up to the top of the wall.

Marik did not correct the man from using the title that was no longer in use.  He turned his back to the catapults that were crawling their way into position.  He glanced down at the activity below him where all the city’s carpenters and woodworkers were busy constructing their own defenses.  The gates needed to be reinforced, long poles to push away climbing ladders needed to be cut, and they needed their own catapults to counter the Taran weapons.  Those who weren’t busy sawing or piecing together their counter-siege weapons were gathering together in groups to cram in a few extra hours of training.  For some, it was the first time ever holding a sword or a bow.  For others, it was just a refresher course.

He took a long breath at the sight he saw.  This was not an army, but a mishmash of merchants, sailors, and tradesmen.  What he really needed were mounted soldiers, the kind that were trained to kill.

When the soldier reached him, Marik asked, “What is it?”.

The soldier clearly had run some distance.  Not only was he breathing hard, but his round cheeks were red and he was sweating, despite the cold temperature.  Between gasps to catch his breath, he said, “Your presence is requested at the castle.”

Marik continued to watch the men and women who were bustling about on the ground below them.  “There will be war when the sun is fully above the horizon.  I am needed here to prepare our defenses.”

“It is the queen, Sir Marik, you must come.”

“What?” Marik’s demeanor instantly changed.  “Is something wrong?  Is she okay?”

The soldier shook his head, but said, “Yes, she is fine, now. But you must come.  Hurry!”

Marik feared the worst.  This was one time when the kingdom needed its leader to be the figurehead that she was.  Morale throughout the city was teetering, and if anything happened to the queen, it would certainly fall to the point where no one would care to fight.  If that happened, he might as well just swing the gates open and invite the Tarans in.  It would certainly save a lot of bloodshed.

There were many horses that had been gathered from around the city.  Most were warhorses, aching to carry their armor-clad knights into battle.  But some were light and fast riding horses.  He took one of those, as it would not be missed on the battlefield.  He sprinted his way through the city, dodging pedestrians and other riders who were making their way from their homes to the main gate.

The portcullis was up and he did not break stride as he steered his horse through the gate and into the courtyard.  He had to come to a quick stop as the courtyard was packed with costumed guests streaming out of the Great Hall heading straight for their comfortable carriages.  Many had looks of fear, but there were some that had pulled off their masks and looked back at him with a steely gaze.  It was not difficult to figure out which carriages were going to head straight for the front gate and which ones were heading for safety.

Through the line of carriages, Lord Martin called out to him, waving his hand.  He ran up to Marik and took his horse’s reins.  “I am so glad you came as soon as you could!  You must hurry before it is too late.”

Marik dismounted and said, “What is it?”

“Hurry, you must come to the queen’s chambers.”  He had turned and was already walking as quickly as he could through the courtyard towards the castle.

Marik jogged to catch up.  “Is she all right?  Is she ill?  What is wrong!”

“She was attacked.  In her chambers!”

Marik sprinted past the plump lord, running without thought towards her chamber.

A handful of soldiers, swords sheathed, were milling about in her antechamber.  He ignored them as he ran past and straight through the open door.

Elissa looked up, her eyes wide with surprise.  Her hair was pulled back into a single thick pony tail, tied by a thin piece of leather.  She wore a thick leather armor coat that had no sleeves.  One of the blacksmiths was currently strapping a modified breastplate to her front.  The top had been pounded out to accommodate her upper body.

Marik paused at the sight.  He had forgotten how beautiful the woman really was.  And now, dressed as manly as he had ever seen her, she was still as stunning as ever.