__________
Vancien and Amarian were determined to fight alongside their father, but Hull would have none of it. He had joined them at Chiyo’s headquarters just after word came of the breach. While Chiyo and his officers were already racing toward the gate, he commanded them to stay where they were.
“And do what?” Vancien shouted in agony. “Are we so useless against the Chasmites?”
“Stay here!” Hull roared, exhibiting a temper that they had not seen in a long time. “If I see one of you near a Chasmite, so help me, I’ll send you to the Prysm myself!” With those encouraging words, he ran to join the battle, leaving his sons furious at their own impotence.
“Is there nothing we can do?” Vancien said for the third time, pacing up and down the deserted street like a cornered animal. All the other defenders had followed Chiyo’s example. In the distance they could hear the taunting sounds of the battle.
Amarian crouched on his haunches, scanning the streets, praying for a task to appear.
“How serious do you think he was about staying here?”
Vancien stopped his pacing. “Like staying physically here? I think maybe he meant just don’t fight a Chasmite.”
“Then the best thing we can do is take care of that smoke. Those soakers won’t be able to do it by themselves.”
Vancien agreed. “Yes, yes, you’re right. And Thelámos can help.”
“No, Vance. I didn’t mean. . .”
But before Amarian could stop him, Vancien was sprinting toward the stables. They found the great Ealatrophe tearing his stall apart in frustration. In the work of a moment, Vancien had him out of the stables and was sitting astride him.
“Vance, I really think. . .”
“It’s the best way to put out the fires. I’ll carry some water and Thelámos can simply breathe on them. I’ve seen him do it.”
Without protest, Amarian located a well and filled as many buckets as he could find and carry. He carried them to Vancien, who took one of them himself while Thelámos hooked two in his mighty claws.
“Vance, I’m still not sure this is the best. . .”
But Vancien cut him off. “We’ve got to do something, ‘Ian.”
“Yes, but perhaps we should think. . .”
Before he could finish his sentence, Thelámos had propelled into the air. Amarian was left on the ground, helpless, as his brother raced toward the smoke. Bedge arrived just as they disappeared behind the buildings.
“Sir is okay! Bedge saw bad fennels are in the city!”
Amarian reached down a weary hand to rub her head.
“Yes, I’m okay. Thanks, Bedge. But Vance. . .” he stared at the sky where his brother had just been.
“Sir’s brother not careful. Goes very low with the big wings.”
“He’s trying to help put out the fire.”
Bedge shook her head in disapproval but, for once, did not respond.
“Bedge, do all the Risen Ones know of the breach?”
“Oh, yes! As soon as Bedge heard the big door move, Bedge told the light-ones to hurry, hurry to the gate.”
“Good girl. Now I. . .”
He was interrupted by a hoarse shout. There was a solitary man running down the street, covered in soot and looking badly wounded. Amarian was surprised to see that it was General Tengar.
“Tengar! Are you all right?”
The general shook his head and pushed Amarian away. “Amarian, you have to go,” he gasped. “Your friends are in trouble. The Risen Ones are trying to protect us, but we fool humans keep charging in. They can’t protect us and fight the Chasmites at the same time.” These last words were little more than a whisper. As he slumped to the ground, his hand moved to reveal a nasty wound in his side. To Amarian’s surprise, the deep slice was an ashy gray.
“So that’s what the blade of a Chasmite does.”
Tengar nodded and closed his eyes. Before Amarian could do anything for him, he was gone. Amarian had been around death enough to know that, with a few exceptions, you couldn’t help a corpse. So after mumbling a prayer over the departed general, he jumped to his feet and ran toward the fighting. Bedge ran alongside of him.
By the time he arrived, his armor felt like it weighed twice as much as he knew it did. For a fleeting moment, he wished he had Ovna back with him. A dragon would come in very useful right about now.
From his street-bound perspective, it took him a few moments to find Chiyo. Telenar was with him. They were penned in by a circle of Risen Ones who were grimly keeping the invaders at bay. The little nucleus was surrounded by hundreds of howling Chasmites. This particular group had forgotten about taking over the city in their desire to taste living blood, though Amarian could hear the progress others were making through the streets.
He stood there for a moment, undecided. Bedge, too, though she was keen on battle, seemed out of her depth. They could try to hack their way through to the protective circle, but what would that do? Give the Risen Ones more foolish mortals to protect? As he racked his brain, he noticed one of the Sentries stop its agitation for a moment and look at him. It tilted its head to one side, as if recalling something.
“He recognizes me,” Amarian thought. And indeed, Amarian recognized him, too. It was Tsare, the Sentry whom he had first sent to destroy Vancien.
“Darkness?” it gurgled, unsure of itself.
The Sentry’s confused attention gave him an idea. With renewed composure, he stood up taller, adjusted his armor, and sent Bedge away. She resisted, but he would hear no objections. When she had finally skittered up a tower, he raised his sword high in the air.
“Chasmites!” he roared, hoping that his voice would carry above the pitch of battle.
It did. Almost as a unit, the Chasmites stopped and looked at him. It was enough of a pause that the Risen Ones could hasten Chiyo and Telenar to safety, cutting down the enemy as they went. But the Chasmites stared only for a moment. Then Tsare shouted “Traitor!,” and a surge of Sentries and fennels rushed toward him. There was no way he could resist them; that had not been his plan, anyway.
What happened next was difficult to tell. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a blur of movement, then Hull was there, slashing around him with the power of twenty Risen Ones. He mowed through the Chasmites as if they were chaff until he stood in front of his son. Amarian raised his sword to help, noting that a shadow covered his blade a split second before he heard Vancien shout something from above. Then he was in the grip of Destrariae cold. He felt himself lifted up, away from his father, who was still fighting furiously. Then he watched, horrified, as the blade of a Sentry struck true. Hull vanished as if he’d never been there.
Both brothers cried out in unison, but there was nothing to be done. Thelámos carried them both, rider and cargo, to the furthest point away from danger. Numbly, Amarian watched Bedge dart through the streets, following them as quickly as her short legs could carry her. Then she was lost to view. Thelámos, guided by an authority higher than Vancien, carried them to the north-west corner of the city. There he deposited them in a tiny square and retreated a few yards, though his stern gaze never left them.
Neither man could speak. They just stared at the buildings around them. Thelámos had brought them to one of the poorer corners of town. Like everyplace else, it was desolate, though the neighborhood had a bleakness that extended long before the war.
Vancien sat down, paying no heed to the grime of the paving stones. “He’s gone,” he croaked.
Amarian nodded, not trusting himself to speak. A swell of emotion was threatening to choke him. Over and over the vision of that Sentry’s blade played through his mind. Over and over he saw his father disappear, just like that. Tears began to stream down his face. He sat next to his brother, knowing that if he opened his mouth to speak the sobs would never stop.
Bedge found them in this position. Not long after, so did Chiyo and Telenar.
Telenar took one look at Vancien and rushed to his side. He knelt, wrapped him in his cloak, and drew him to his chest as if he were a child. Chiyo laid a hand on Amarian.
“It’s okay to cry, son. You just lost your father.”
Amarian shook his head, drawing in a deep breath. Then the weeping came, rocking his whole body. His father was gone. And this time, he would not be coming back.
__________
By early afternoon, the full force of the Risen Ones had stymied the Obsidian attack. The bulk of Zyreio’s forces were beaten back through the gate; only the occasional jittery Chasmite would escape into one of the many side streets. And then its high-pitched hysterics gave away its position before it could do much harm.
After assuring himself that Vancien and Amarian were safe, Chiyo was ready to return to the vicinity of the battle, though he had learned the hard way not to engage in it unless necessary. If it had not been for his hasty antics, Hull and several other Risen Ones would still be with them. And if Amarian’s actions had not been quick and selfless, they might all have been killed. But such self-recrimination would have to wait until later. Now was not the time for regret. The city still needed a commander.
Telenar, meanwhile, went to gather the other priests and direct them down into the tunnels. If the worst happened, there must be some priests to preserve the faith, he protested, although no one was questioning him. He had become a changed man since Vancien had seen him last—Vancien wondered if he had had contact with Kynell, or else just figured that staying in his office doubting the Ages wasn’t getting him anywhere. Whatever the case, Vancien was glad of his presence.
Both Vancien and Amarian, with Telenar’s blessing, decided to return with Chiyo, so long as they stayed clear of the fighting. It was easy for them to agree. None of them wanted Hull’s sacrifice to become meaningless so quickly after it had taken place. As they went their separate ways, Thelámos flew high above the brothers, ready to pluck them out of danger if need be. To their chagrin, they had just reached the East Wall when yet another alarm was sounded, followed by a series of distant crashes. A human sentry stood on the battlements, waving his arms and pointing to the horizon.
“The walls are down! The army’s coming—” An arrow felled him before he could complete his thought. He staggered backwards, then disappeared over the wall. Chiyo, standing below, watched him disappear before whirling around to see where the shot had come from. It was a Chasmite Sentry who had escaped from the fray, standing about fifteen yards from them. With a cry of rage, Chiyo picked up the stone nearest him and hurled it at its head. The target hit its mark. The Sentry staggered, held a hand up to its brow, which should have caved in, then started running towards them, bow raised to shoot.
“Run, boys!” Chiyo shouted as they all darted for cover. But there was no need. Before the Sentry could fire another shot, a Risen One had cut him down.
“General Chiyo!” she hailed. It was Jana, smeared with blood and soot but nevertheless looking as fresh and healthy as when she had first arrived.
“Is there nothing we can do against them?” Chiyo asked, exasperated.
Jana pointed back toward the north-west corner of the city. “You have all put up a glorious fight. But the time when you could be of assistance is over. We’re sending the soaking crew, the priests, and everyone who will go to safety. There are tunnels in that area and there is no enemy yet to track them. Most of the men-at-arms will go with them under the command of Captain An-Sung. Will you go?”
All four, including Bedge, shook their heads.
“An-Sung will take good care of them,” Chiyo said. “Besides, if the enemy gets into the tunnels, we’re all dead, anyway. I’d rather stay above ground. What about the king?”
Jana did not bother to hide her satisfaction at their decision. “The king and his brother are being taken to safety.” Then she pointed to the battlements. “If we can’t keep them out of the city, we’re going to funnel them along this wall. Our numbers are lessened, but we have enough to do that. We’re asking those of you who remain to get to the battlements. When the fight comes beneath you, send a barrage of anything you can find down on their heads. It won’t destroy them, but it will distract them long enough for us to strike. Understand?” When they agreed, she allowed herself a smile. “Good. Just make sure not to hit us in the process. Now I’ve got to find the others.”
Without further conversation, she ran off. Chiyo stared after her. “That’s one remarkable woman,” he observed.
Amarian and Vancien looked at each other; it was odd to see Chiyo affected by anything, let alone a woman. In another situation, they would have chuckled at the sight. For now, they were just grateful to have a sense of purpose. All four of them hurried to the nearest tower, gathering rocks and other missiles as they went. When they reached the top, they found that the battlements were already strewn with remnants of shattered siege engines, stones from the wall itself, and in some cases, bodies of defenders. These last they refused to use as weapons, but they stripped off the armor—a steel helmet would make a useful projectile.
Only after they had gathered everything in their immediate vicinity did they think to look at the approaching army. It was a sight well worth watching. The temporary exterior walls were swaying as it if were being pushed by a mighty wind. In the sections that had fallen, regiment after regiment of Chasmites were marching through, displaying an uncharacteristic and chilling amount of discipline. When anyone fell into a trap or through the ground over the buried jars, his comrades simply trampled him in their determination to keep ranks. The front lines of the force were about four hundred yards from the Sentries and fennels, who were falling back.