"What's happening down there?" he thought aloud to himself.
A strong gust of chilled air rolled across the rooftop and rain began to fall. Ranesch watched the city for a moment longer, then headed back down into the temple and ordered the outer and inner doors to be closed and locked.
Chapter 8
"What was that?" Gorric asked his father.
"I'm not sure." Celestius started towards the nearest window.
As he neared it, the glass panes splintered into the bar room and a burning torch landed by his feet. A split second later, three other torches were thrown into the tavern, shattering the remaining windows.
One torch landed on a table and set it alight instantly, whilst the others landed on the floor. Celestius grabbed the torch at his feet and flung it back through the broken window, then shouted for Gorric to do the same.
Gorric and Khir made a grab for the torches whilst the barkeeper emerged with a pitcher of water to douse the flames.
Celestius peered out of the window and could see men moving around the square outside. Some were on horseback, whilst others could be seen running about on foot. He could not make them out easily, but could see the weapons they carried. As he watched, several on foot moved to a nearby house and broke through the front door. Cries for help could be heard and Celestius cursed quietly. Instinctively, his hand reached down for his sword, but he realised that his weapon lay out in the wagon they had arrived on. He looked back into the bar room to see Gorric, Khir and Brenn disposing of the torches, whilst Forven and the barkeeper threw water on the flames that had sprang up. Varayan and Rynn were standing side-by-side at the bar, both with terrified expressions on their faces.
"What do we do, father?" shouted Gorric, having seen the attackers for himself.
Celestius pointed towards the kitchen. "Through there is the back door. We need our weapons from the wagon. I want you and Khir to fetch them for me." He noticed Brenn and his Ashgar colleagues unsheathing shortswords. "Brenn, do you have any spare weapons to hand?"
Brenn peered through a window. "I'm afraid not."
"I have something you can use," piped up the barkeeper, rushing back behind his counter and emerging with a short, curved blade. "I keep this for protection."
Celestius pointed towards Gorric. "Please, give my son the sword. He needs something in case…"
Another two torches flew into the room, one missing the barkeeper by inches.
Celestius turned to Gorric. "Take the sword and fetch our weapons. Come straight back."
Gorric took the curved sword from the barkeeper's shaking hands and called to Khir, who threw one of the two torches back through a window and then followed.
Celestius felt a strong hand grasp his shoulder and he glanced back to see Brenn.
"I'll go with your lads and protect them, don't worry," winked the Ashgar noble.
"Thank you, Brenn."
Then, the three men disappeared through into the kitchen and Celestius pushed any thoughts of Gorric being attacked from his mind. The attackers had not yet moved around the back of tavern, so he hoped that Gorric, Khir and Brenn were safe for now.
He looked out again at the dark figures who had so suddenly appeared from the night to attack Barentin. Who were they and why were they attacking this peaceful town?
Amongst the attackers, he noticed two on horseback watching the events unfold. One of the riders occasionally pointed or shouted orders at the men, whilst the other sat looking towards the tavern.
"We need to make sure that no torches are allowed to catch anything else alight in here," called Celestius to the other people in the bar room. He glanced over his shoulder at Rynn and Varayan. "That includes you two."
"We will make sure," said Forven. "Rynn?"
The young acolyte blinked and looked at Forven. "I…I will help."
Varayan backed away to the nearest wall and pulled out his knife. He did not know what was going on, but he would have to leave as soon as nobody was watching. Of all the wagons he could have stowed away on, he had to choose the one which would bring him to this ill-fated town. His cursed his luck and waited for the right moment to run.
"Come on, lad," said Brenn in a hushed voice, as he took the barkeeper's sword from Gorric. "Grab those weapons of yours and let's get back inside."
Gorric reached into the wagon and grabbed his father's sword first, handing it to Khir, who nearly overbalanced with the weight.
"My knife," whispered Khir, as loud as he dared.
Gorric picked up Khir's hunting knife and his own sword, then jumped down from the wagon. As he did so, the sound of heavy footsteps could be heard coming from the narrow street which joined the backyard to the main square.
"Head for the door," ordered Brenn, pushing Khir towards the tavern.
The three ran for the back door; Khir leading, Gorric close behind and Brenn at the rear. Glancing back, Gorric saw two figures emerge from the street.
"Get inside," shouted Brenn, as he heard a cry go up behind him. He chanced a look back and saw the two men. One was following, with a sword and shield readied. The other was swinging a crossbow up from his hip to take a shot.
Khir leapt into the kitchen and ran for the bar room, feeling as though he might drop the heavy sword in his grasp. Gorric entered the kitchen and took a step to the side of the doorway, raising his sword in preparation.
Brenn reached the door and turned to shut it. A crossbow bolt took him in the left shoulder, spinning him back into the kitchen.
Gorric lost sight of Brenn as the old noble fell behind a table. He felt suddenly very nauseous and his lips became dry. His mind swam with thoughts as to what would happen to everyone when these attackers decided to turn their attentions to the tavern. Fear gripped him then and he could feel sweat beginning to run down his forehead.
A movement snapped him back to reality and he let out a roar as he swung his sword at the man who had just entered the kitchen. Gorric's sword caught the attacker off his guard and found it's way between the shoulder plate of his armour and his blackened helmet, cleaving into his exposed neck. The man was dead before he hit the ground and Gorric stared down at the body and the pool of crimson blood that was forming beneath it.
"Shut the door, lad."
Gorric was startled to see Brenn standing from behind the table, but he still slammed the door shut and pulled the bar which locked it back into place.
"I'll never get on your wrong side," said Brenn, looking down at the dead attacker. He smiled at Gorric, then grimaced in pain at the wound to his shoulder. "Let's get back to the others."
They headed through into the bar room and Brenn closed the door to the kitchen, then called for one of his Ashgar allies to guard it.
"Brenn, how's the shoulder?" asked Celestius, seeing the protruding crossbow bolt.
"I've had worse injuries," replied Brenn, handing the curved sword back to the barkeeper. "You should be proud of your boy though. He knocked that bastard right off his feet with that sword of his."
Celestius saw the blood on Gorric's blade. "You killed one of them?"
Gorric nodded. "Yes, he's in the kitchen. They're wearing dark armour plating and I could see no crest. The neck is exposed though, so bear that in mind if you run into any more of them."
"I would expect more to be at the back door any minute now," said Brenn. "The one that shot me will have gone to fetch reinforcements."
Celestius took his sword from Khir, then heard the sound of metal upon metal outside and, peering out into the square, he could make out the silvery figures of Barentin's guardsmen arriving to defend as best they could. Flames had erupted from various buildings around the square and the whole scene was eerily illuminated.
"The guardsmen need help out there," stated Celestius. "Brenn, can you fight?"
"Of course I can," growled Brenn. "Just need to get this bolt out, then I'll be good as new."
"Let me help with the wound," offered Forven.
Gorric moved to his father's side. "I will fight, father."
"No, Gorric. I need you to protect these people here. Do not leave this tavern until I return."
"Father, I must help…"
"I said no," interrupted Celestius. "You are the only person who can protect them. How would the two clerics defend themselves?"
Gorric shook his head. "If something should happen…" His voice trailed off.
"Gorric, if something should happen to me and I do not return soon, then I want you to get out of Barentin as quickly as possible. Take horses and get clear of the town. These men are numerous and dangerous. They are not bandits so I'm guessing that they are a new threat."
"Skardans?"
"No. Skardans don't wear so much armour. Maybe they are from the northlands or the lands not yet claimed. That doesn't matter right now."
"Why don't we just leave now and escape before they kill us all?" cried Varayan from the back of the room.
"You have no morals, do you?" snapped Khir at the young thief. "Would you just run and leave everyone to die?"
Varayan let out an exasperated groan. "I don't understand any of you. You would fight a battle which you could not win, just because of
duty
or
honour
?"
Khir turned his back on the thief and shrugged at Gorric. "Why don't we just kill him now and be done with it?"
Gorric could see that Khir was trying to raise a smile, but the thought of what was about to happen kept him from doing so. Gorric felt his father's hand grasp his shoulder.
"Do as I ask, Gorric," said Celestius.
Gorric saw the look in his father's eyes and nodded. "I will. Khir will help me protect these people."
Father and son exchanged meaningful smiles, and then Celestius headed towards the front door. "Brenn, are you ready?"
Brenn, his left arm soaked with blood, stepped forward. Behind him, Forven held the bolt which had been lodged in his shoulder.
"I thank you for your help," Brenn said to the cleric. Then, he nodded to Celestius. "Looks worse than it is. Missed anything too important."
Celestius, Brenn and two of the three other Ashgar men prepared themselves and, with one last glance at those staying in the tavern, charged out into the square.
Balthus scanned the battle before him. Buildings on the edge of the main square of Barentin were aflame now and tens of Rotians had already been marched off away from their homes. He had no doubt that the captured men, women and children would number in their hundreds. The order would probably be given to kill most of the men and in doing so cut down the numbers.
The slow-moving guardsmen from the trade town ran to and fro, trying to stand and defend their people, but the Shada-Kavielian force was stronger and better trained. It would all be over quickly.
The invoker's eyes glanced towards the docks, where another unit of soldiers had headed. A flickering illumination from over the rooftops told him that fires were being set there also.
Balthus turned to look at Draliak. The commander sat atop his steed, watching the battle with intensity. Occasionally, he would order nearby soldiers to pursue some guardsmen who had broken rank or he would see an opportunity to outflank those still fighting. Draliak longed to join the battle it seemed, but he had remained calm and still, allowing his men to take the glory for him.
Balthus caught sight of movement from one of the larger buildings opposite him and saw four men emerge from the front door, each armed with weapons. One thing he had to grant the Rotians was that they certainly had courage in the face of certain destruction. These men were rushing out to aid their kin against a force this land has never known the like of. They would fight bravely, but they would be dead within minutes.
Still, one of the men who had appeared from the building was most definitely a swordsman. The large rotian cut down two Shada-Kavielians with relative ease and joined a group of guardsmen to form a defensive wall.
"Military," came Draliak's voice.
Balthus glanced at him and saw that the commander was also watching these new arrivals, especially the swordsman. "You believe he's a soldier?"
Draliak nodded. His face was partially hidden by the helmet he wore, but Balthus could see the expression of genuine interest in Draliak's face.
"He's most likely an officer," stated the commander. "Do you see the way he commands those men? They rally to him without hesitation. Yes, he carries rank."
Balthus shrugged. "Not that it matters. He'll be dead like the rest soon."
Draliak saw movement from within the building the four Rotians had emerged from. The structure was a tavern, if his knowledge of Rotian architecture was correct. It was wide and tall, but with many windows and a sign above the door.
"Balthus, that tavern still stands," pointed out Draliak. "There are others in there, perhaps more soldiers. Take several men and make sure it's burned like the rest of them."