The Battle of Ebulon (11 page)

"Chirath found an arrow,"
announced Rysil cheerfully.

"There's a huge army
camped outside the gate," said Khendam solemnly.

"And they took one look at
Chirath..." laughed Wegri.

"We saw a scout from
another part of the city, but we don't think he was a native. He
was bundled up in several cloaks, and looked miserable. I think he
was like us, but from somewhere warmer, perhaps. Someone like
us..." Tulacha was lost in thought for a moment, but her face
suddenly brightened. "There are other gates along the city wall, on
each side. We were brought to this gate -"

"Kidnapped," said
Khendam.

"And there are others at a
distance, near to the other gates."

Kalummenon looked at
Khendam and Rysil. "You saw people too?"

Rysil nodded. "Oh yes, a
troop of foreign soldiers passed down a street that crossed ours. I
thought they were patrolling a boundary. When we got closer, we
could see well worn tracks in the snow. They seemed uninterested in
straying from their chosen path."

"Lucky for us," said
Khendam. "We must have been about half way to the next
gate."

"So we are all here - "
began Pereg, but a commotion stopped him in
mid-sentence.

The procession had reached
the square, and Vardan had already managed to organize their motley
crew into something approaching an army. A company of warriors
guarded the entrance to the square, in an unevenly outfitted
defensive ring of swords and spears. On the edges of the square,
and leaning from some of the lower windows of the stone buildings,
archers drew bows.

It was an impressive
achievement on such short notice, but still it was clear they would
be no match for the battalion of properly supplied troops which had
halted at the edge of the square. The majority of the men and women
of the Kinnon had not been carrying their weapons when they had
been summoned here, and the number of weaponless and defenceless
people was staggering. If this went badly, there would be a
slaughter.

The floating figure was
perhaps a corpulent man, but Kalummenon was too far back to be
certain. The figure floated in place at head height, and seemed to
be taking in the men and women gathered against him. With a flick
of his wrist, the figure conjured a shimmering wall of
energy.

Near the front of his
army, Vardan called out for the archers to hold, but a few stray
arrows launched nonetheless, breaking against the shimmering wall
and falling harmlessly to the ground.

The figure ignored the
affront, and began a new working in earnest. He was speaking some
words and moving his hands, and after a few moments he cast his
hands suddenly outwards towards the square. Twinkling light spread
out from him, and the people of the Kinnon gasped as the light
passed over their heads, and then descended amongst
them.

Kalummenon fixed his gaze
on the figure. There didn't appear to be any menace to his actions,
or demeanour, but not knowing what was going on had them all on
edge.

The floating figure
smiled. It seemed forced, or at least not a smile born of pleasure,
but rather of satisfaction.

"There," said the figure,
and his voice was now audible across the whole square. "Friends!
Welcome to the city of Ebulon, and our deepest gratitude for all of
you who have answered our call!"

Impossibly, the figure
spoke in the courtly language of the Kinnon, or seemed to. All
around the square could be heard similar murmurs of surprise, and
people spoke quickly and furtively to each other.

The figure let the words
sink in for a moment before continuing.

"Do not be alarmed! The
shimmering light which fell upon you is nothing more than the
lifting of the linguistic barriers between us! Now we can speak and
understand each other! Ordinary weapons will be turned away by the
shield I hold around me, but do not fear an attack: I come to speak
to you, and to help you.

"I am Munda, a
spokesperson for King Yadi of Ebulon. King Yadi issued the Call,
and you have heard it, and have come to our aid. We in turn come to
your aid. I bring wagons of food, of hot meats, of roasted tubers,
and other simple but hearty sustenance. I bring also a thousand of
King Yadi's finest soldiers to aid you in the coming
battle."

Munda was forced to stop
speaking by a rise of angry protest from the crowd. He raised his
hands, and after a while a begrudging quiet descended.

"Who speaks for you? Have
you a leader?" asked Munda.

"I seem to be the highest
ranking here," said Vardan, stepping closer to the front of the
crowd. "I am Vardan of Tarakal, a Lord of that fair land." He had
the crowd's full attention, and he paused, gratified that none had
spoken out to deprive him of this open acknowledgement of his own
importance. "We have come at your calling, that may be true, but we
have not come to fight your battle for we have battles of our own
to fight and families of our own to protect. We demand that we be
returned whence we came!"

The crowd roared its
approval.

Munda was shocked by their
enthusiasm. "Did you not hear the Call? Did you not willingly
follow the Call?"

Now Vardan held his hands
up to calm a rising wave of indignation. "We don't know what you
thought you were doing, but for us the "Call" was not a choice or a
question, and it most certainly was not an informed decision. It
was a compulsion, a charm, a magic spell, that dragged us, captured
us, and forced us to step into the light and come here. At no time
were we asked about our willingness to fight, and the fact of our
being here is not the same as consent. I have seen your enemy, and
my people want no part of your battle. We will all die if we face
that vast army at your gates, and if we are to die we would die for
our own people, not yours!"

"Most troubling..."
muttered Munda. "When our King sent out the Call, it was to call to
the spirit of the hero, the spirit of any who would willingly step
forward to protect the weak and the innocent, and any who believed
they were able to rise to the occasion. You were all Called by the
light because you yourselves believe you are heroes, because you
think you are heroes, and because you would choose to help someone
in dire need! We are in dire need, and we need your help! It is
true, there is a vast army facing the walls of Ebulon, but that is
not the end of what I must tell you, only the beginning. This army
has marched across our world, swallowing proud and free nations one
after the other. This army, camped at our gates, has not merely
conquered the peoples of our world. This army has not merely
enslaved the conquered peoples of our world. No, they have
slaughtered all they have conquered, from newborn babes to honoured
elders! They are a pestilence upon the land, and they have overrun
the whole world. Except for Ebulon! Some few survivors reached us,
warned us of what was coming. And we have already fought battles in
this bitter war, which is why you find wide parts of our city empty
and broken. We are bled almost dry. We are not the only free people
left in the world: we are the only living people! Those monsters
want to kill everything that is good, and destroy everything of
worth! They will cut off our heads, and then they will knock down
our city, leaving not even a memory of it. They wish to rule an
empty world of rot and decay, and we say to them, NO! You shall not
have us!

"And you, you all, you
came to us, you followed the Call, because you are good and strong
and brave and clever! You came because you are heroes, because only
heroes can hear the Call!

"But please, forgive us
our shortcomings! We failed you if you felt compelled or fooled
into coming. We failed you if you came here against your will. We
failed you if we brought you here to help us without asking
plainly. We failed you if the Call did not explain our need.
Forgive us! But we fight for our survival!

"Now you know more of us,
and more of our story, will you aid us? Will you stand with us
against the worst enemy we have ever known?"

Vardan spoke up clearly,
"In this, I cannot speak for my people. They must choose for
themselves."

From the otherwise silent
crowd a voice called out, "Are we hostages? Will you send us home?
Can you?"

The crowd took a
collective breath, waiting for the answer.

Munda sighed. "We can send
you home now, if that is what you wish. You are not hostages. You
are free people. It is as free people that we Called you. You are
free, and you will remain free. But logistics must be mentioned. We
can send you home now, if you are unwilling to aid us, while we are
able, but once the battle is joined, we might lose those with the
power. The future is difficult to predict. I cannot say who will
fall and who will stand. But if, after the battle, there are still
those among us with that power, they will return you to your homes.
But the battle will soon be joined, perhaps on the morrow, and who
can say how all this will end?"

"How rousing," Kalummenon
thought to himself.

Khendam, standing beside
Kalummenon, sighed. "I'll stand with you!" he called. Meeting
Kalummenon's gaze, he shrugged. "What can we do but help these poor
saps?" But he didn't seem happy about his decision.

Here and there, others
spoke up, "I'm with you!", "I'll take a few of those fiends with
me!", "Count me in!", and similar affirmations.

Vardan held his hands up
for quiet, and said, "Munda, many of my people have chosen to stand
with you, given the choice plainly stated. Any who wish to return
to their homes, go to Munda now, and he will make good his
promise!"

Munda cleared his throat.
"Well, actually, I am not one of those with the power to send you
home, but I can escort any so minded to an audience with our King
Yadi. Those of you choosing to stay, my deepest thanks. May we all
live to see victory!"

7.

"I would
speak."

Her voice was not loud,
but it felled every sound in the crowded square. There was
something about it, some quality in it, demanding to be heard:
authority.

She made no effort to move
to the front of the crowd in order to address everyone. Instead,
those around her took some steps back, making a space for her in
the crowd, shuffling away from the power inherent to one like her.
She was an Alfar.

"Vardan of Tarakal does
not speak for me." She turned to Munda. "I am Moriambra, ambassador
to the Kinnon, from a distant and powerful kingdom. My heart
followed your Call, as did all present. My spirit calls out to me
to aid you in your time of need. But for me it is not that simple.
Many among us will be missed greatly by those we have left behind.
I have family. I have obligations. I have people depending on me. I
would put those concerns aside for this grand ideal if I
could.

"I cannot. My absence will
already have been noticed. If I return now, or soon, my absence
might still be explained away as an embarrassing omission, or an
unfortunate but temporary illness. But if I do not return, there
shall be repercussions. My King is known to be untrusting of the
Kinnon. He will undoubtedly see my disappearance as a provocation.
Perhaps as an act of war.

"A war between my people
and the Kinnon would be difficult, not least because of the great
distance between our lands, but similar difficulties have not
prevented wars in the past, and I do not see how they will prevent
war now. I beg you, Munda of Ebulon: return me to my post, and save
the families of these honourable men and women before you by
averting this unnecessary war!"

Munda let his gaze sweep
across the gathered people of the Kinnon, and nodded. "It is
regrettable, indeed, that such events might occur because of your
presence here. Can I not convince you to join our
forces?"

"Not even if you were to
fight right beside me," she replied.

Munda's pale, full cheeks
blushed slightly, just for a moment.

"If you are to fight at
all, that is...?" Moriambra added, carefully.

All eyes fell squarely on
Munda, and he was forced to reply.

"Alas," he said, "my King
has other matters he needs me to attend to, and I would therefore
be unable to fight by your side."

"But your skills are
undeniably impressive," she said. "Would you not be able to block
incoming enemy arrows? Would you not be able to confuse the tongues
of the enemy so they could not communicate their plans to each
other? Would you not be able to put a hundred thousand of the enemy
to sleep so we could more easily slaughter them?"

This time Munda
had a ready response, as he was on firmer footing. "You will notice
that the soldiers I bring to add to your number are all warriors in
some fashion. Some are infantrymen, some are archers. You might
notice further that there are no mages among them. The magic of
Ebulon is no longer effective against this enemy. My own magic
would fail - would be blocked, rather - by the dark magicks beyond
the gate. The enemy has studied our magical attacks and rendered
them irrelevant in battle. Well,
almost
irrelevant."