|
|
Casperlane changed into his blue army jacket and hurried to the throne room, which had been turned into a council chamber for the army. Long tables and chairs now line the gilded aisle and all the seats had been filled. The security captain took his position next to the king’s high seat. On invitation by the king, Ambassador Branduil stood and he advised the council that Santurst would approach the country by ship. He also shared Santurst's information on the ports of Merlk along the River Muse. Next, Frad was called to supply them with information of what he saw in Formenscion’s factory. At the end of his report he said, “Your majesty; as we approached the inner city, we hid in the shadows of the surrounding buildings. These were of service to us, but I fear that they will be of the same service to the enemy.” General Brent nodded his graying blond head in agreement. “Aye, Frederick is right. Those buildings must be burnt down. We cannot allow them to shoot their arrows at us from the barricaded rooftops.” The king said, “Very well then. Tell Charles to gather his men and burn down the structures for the length of half a mile from the walls.” The general waved at a young soldier, who bowed and ran out to do his superior’s bidding. Posadom inquired, “How many fighters do we have in the garrison?” “Three thousand your majesty, including Casperlane and myself.” General Brent answered, drawing a smile from everyone in the room. By a twist of fate, what was thought of as nine hundred trained soldiers had swelled and tripled, because carpenters, labourers and metal workers who had seen army service had come forward and offered their services to the garrison of Sillander. About four hundred used to guard Fort Tune and over a thousand five hundred more came from Bledwud, Hoak and the forts of Bordeen and Bordell. Bulgarth inquired, “Is this all that we can do, wait for them to come and attack.” Frad answered, “Not really.” “What do you mean?” the king asked as everyone turned to gaze at the younger man. Frad blushed, “I was thinking of the sewers your majesty. There are drains beneath the inner city that are connected to the outside. If the army is willing, we could use these to get behind the enemy as they focus their attention on the inner city wall.” The security captain had to interject at that point, “But there are hundreds of these and they are interconnecting. Surely you saw the map Norbul drew your majesty. And the draft he copied from is very old.” Frad hesitantly spoke up, “I grew up in the sewers your majesty. I know my way in there, just as well as I know my way on well marked roads.” Bulgarth stared at his friend with surprise. He had never heard Frad speak of that part of his life and he was astounded to learn that people live in sewers. His majesty wondered as he gazed at the young man. He noted Frad’s intelligent brow and the grace of his fine features. Yet this man grew up in a sewer. Had Providence placed him there, so that one day he might serve his king in that place? Posadom slumped back in his chair, he felt so unworthy. Maybe he should just give the crown to Palmeon. A hand fell on his shoulder. He looked up and saw Casperlane staring down at him then he said to the worried security captain, “I am all right my friend.” Posadom studied the faces of the men and women gathered in the throne room. In their midst stood the lovely Sarah with her hand on Frad’s arm. The king watched the two of them a moment longer then he smiled and turned his eyes to the others. “I am all right. Yes, I feel better now.” The great army of Merlk marched down the cobblestone road. They laughed to hear the din and noise their boots were making. Some shouted and roared; thinking to frighten any citizen or soldier near enough to hear them. They threw rocks and torches into the shops along Clannie. They thought the fire around them a fair sight. So fair was the sight that it blinded them to another fire in the distance. General Brent took a great risk when he ordered his soldiers to burn the surrounding buildings down Bellway, for it was equivalent to lighting a torch and showing the way to the inner city walls. Charles took out eighty soldiers with him and couts also moved out of the gate to observe the enemy’s movement. The people watched silently from behind the walls. Before that moment the whole event had felt like a big party where family and friends gathered. The sight of the burning buildings, however, had brought them back to reality and struck terror into their hearts. A servant from the palace told his relatives that Princess Keldina and her friend had played a prank on the army of Merlk. The story spread and it shamed those who had heretofore done nothing but grumble about the way the army was treating them. So when General Brent ordered that the areas behind the wall be wet down with water from the river, the people’s reaction surprised the army commander, for he had not expected so many willing volunteers. As adults and children set to the work with gusto, the stink of the water became intermingled with their sweat, their food and their sleep. But no one complained A new day lit the horizon as the king looked out his throne room window. Smoke rose in wisps from the now desolate wasteland that stretched for half a mile outside the battlement. He looked within the wall and watched soldiers shouting instructions to his people, and he marvelled at the sight because no one was idle and they all moved purposefully. Posadom gazed upwards and imagined the shadow of a star. Did you do this, he asked in his heart. The people are great and many. Give me wisdom to govern them. I am not you. You have many ears and many eyes, lead me and show me where to see and what to hear. I need your guidance. Branduil gazed upon Posadom. He smiled and in his old wisdom, hope returned into his heart. Twenty years ago a young queen had turned her face upwards and asked for strength that she did not have. She asked for wisdom her young years had not bestowed on her. And she became the greatest monarch he had ever known. The people living within the borders of Santurst tasted security under her reign. The old man turned away, for he felt that the king did not require his comforting words. The bird-keeper of the army garrison in Greenwaters, detected a newcomer amongst his birds. Its white feathers made the red mark on her crown stand out like a beacon in the morning light. Gently, he grabbed it and and ran down the spiral staircase as fast as he could. Sentries let him through on seeing the mark, and he stormed directly to the breakfast room of the garrison commander. He stopped just outside the door, surprised at the guests within. Queen Swayne sat at the head of the table, her harsh tanned face relaxed and her loose white hair like a dusty cloud about her face. Her son Makil, whose rough brown hair hung dankly down his smooth face, was chomping down large bites of bread and cheese that he had dipped in runny gravy. General Kordin, a mighty man in his late fifties, lectured the prince over his bad table manners. Thick gray eyebrows moved up and down as he spoke. To the side, a middle-aged Commander Gill laughed good-naturedly at his lesson. Like the prince, his face was clean shaven and he had large front teeth that made his smiles appear extra sincere. The bird-keeper paused at the door and gulped. “Come here” the queen called out, her relaxed face turning grim on seeing the bird in his hand. Information was very important to her. She cut the thread around the pigeon’s feet gently and unfolded the note. “It is a message from Branduil. Merlk is attacking Netherweld by both land and water.” She looked up and passed the note to her general. “Will we be on time to intercept them at the river junction?” Kordin studied the paper and said, “We can reach the river junction this evening if we leave immediately. We might just make it before them.” The general turned to his young prince. “Finish your meal, your highness. We need to rush.” He looked towards the garrison commander, “Gill, prepare the army. We travel light and we travel fast.” The commander rose from his seat, and bounded out of the room shouting orders to his officers, who then echoed the same orders about the fort. The men and women of Santurst were prepared at all times for war. The strongest and most experienced sat in front of the oars, because by taking the first shift, they could then rest and recoup their strength a few hours before the actual battle. Santurst’s single mast boats could carry as many as seventy soldiers and that morning, each of them was filled to capacity. Excluding a protruding hard timber on the prow, the entire length measured less than sixty feet. The ships also had a shallow draft that allowed the army to reach villages and towns farther upriver. Though each ship only had four small guns, the narrow beam beam and lighter weight gave them a very important element - speed. The queen marched out and her son bounded after her. They collected their bronze armour from the sleeping quarters then mother and son ran down the flight of stairs as they raced each other to the ship. Makil threw himself down the last few steps with a holler and ran out onto the pier. As his mother watched with pride, he climbed nimbly up the mooring ropes like a seasoned sailor. He had stayed alive and grown into adulthood because he was sure and fast. “Go to your station.” A stern voice roared. Makil plopped down next to another man at the oars. His mother climbed on board and a great horn blew. Anchors from nine ships rose and mooring ropes snaked back into the vessels. Drums boomed in the clear air making oars swing to and fro in time to the beat. The crafts picked up speed, then sails were lowered and these immediately became bloated with wind. Makil looked up to the crow’s nest and watched as the banner, a black eagle set against red, impatiently pointed the way ahead. Swayne stood at the bow with her hair whipping about her face. Providence was giving her speed during the season when wind did not blow in that land. She wondered, then she turned to her general, “Kordin, let us prepare ourselves, for the elements do not give help without reason.” Posadom climbed up to the parapets of the wall where two rows of archers stood ready. Twilight fell on both grim and frightened faces alike. The wind brought a roar from the shout of a thousand men and in the distance the army of Merlk appeared, pillaging and burning as they advanced. Posadom’s mind turned back to Frad and his plan. He had not liked the idea and now he liked it less. He gazed down the length of the parapet and saw a familiar face, Keldina. He sighed and wondered what had become of Netherweld that she now must rely on children to defend her. Some of his best soldiers, including Charles, were following Frad through the underground tunnels. Bulgarth and Hymae had also joined the group. Charles’s garrison had served in Santurst before but the service had been far and few in between. The king hoped that they still remember the valour and methods they had learned from their neighbour. Swayne gazed down the deck and strode to her son. She tied back his dirty brown hair with a strand of rope and smiled to herself. He would make a fine king. The idea to let the better soldiers row boats for the first lap, and to pass the oars to the younger and less experienced ones for the later lap came from Makil. However, that day no one rowed as the wind threw them forward and sprays splashed on their faces. Swayne gazed at the other eight ships following in their wake. The tossing and swaying did not trouble her, for since her husband's death the queen had lived and slept in ships. At times the army travelled in rowboats through the tributaries, and if there was an attack at the border, she would even go by foot if necessary. Her weathered armour and white hair had become a familiar sight to her people and with each passing year, they watched the young boy standing by her side grew taller. Dusk saw them in Netherweld’s territory. In the past, when Swayne was still young, that country had sent soldiers to help her secure her borders against Merlk. Now it was her turn to come and help them. Posadom had served in Santurst sixteen years ago while still a crowned prince. He came in his youth and proved himself a good tactical man. She hoped the peace in his own land had not made him disregard his skill. The river junction forked ahead and to the left, on the main river itself, sailed five large ships alien to Netherweld. Providence had truly been good to Swayne for the wind blew from the easterly direction thus forcing the ships of Merlk to rely on their oars. The queen signaled to a man in the crow's nest, and he unfurled a long red banner that whipped and twisted in the wind. A great roar rose from the whole fleet, and as the army stood to face the enemy, Swayne saw that they were more beautiful than the ruby in Santurst’s crown. Like the other soldiers in the boat, Swayne twisted a rope around her hand, threw the bucket attached to it into the river, pulled it up and splashed its contents onto the decks. Then they crouched low and braced themselves as they hurtled towards Merlk's ships. At the prow of each craft was a battering ram of hard timber. Makil and the chief ship-maker had taken a year to design a vessel that would not break on impact. When Swayne saw the trial vessel, she only had one comment: Increase the height of the gunwale at the prow, for soldiers mad enough to ride on such boats should at least be given a chance to survive. Swayne glared at the large enemy crafts as cannon barrels appeared on the high decks and booms filled the air in a desperate attempt to stop their boats. But they were too close and too low for the guns. Swayne smiled as she imagined the size of the hole her ship would make. The hull loomed over them, and Swayne's boat crashed into it. Planks and timber wailed as they ripped and tore. The mast of the Santurst ship cracked and the ship slowed to a halt. Swayne scrambled to her feet, unsheathed her broadsword and jumped onto the lower deck of the Merlk ship as the enemy army clambered, jumped or dropped down from the upper decks. General Kordin fought beside her, matching the swing of his sword to hers. Fires and torches flew down but sputtered on touching the wet decks, though the wet sail bellowed black smoke. A powder keg flared up and exploded throwing Swayne and Kodin to the side. Shaken, she stood up though her ears were still ringing from the blast. For that brief moment when she could not hear the shouts of her son, she swung her sword and struck down every soldier about her. The fighting did not last long, for a Merlk commander had foolishly sent his soldiers down into the hold when he saw the boats coming towards them. Most were killed on impact. When there was no one else to hew down, Swayne looked around her. She climbed back into her boat, over the bodies of young soldiers. Her ship’s captain shouted an order and oars were lowered into the water then the vessel slowly moved backward. Once more the queen looked across her deck and saw that some of her soldiers were injured and some killed. But there were many that still lived and one of them was her son. She turned her eyes to the rest of the fleet, all had done well. In a different ship, Commander Gill touched his right hand to his left chest, patting it lightly. Swayne smiled when she thought of the small palm print on his breastplate, which his four-year-old daughter had made to remind him to come home safe to her. One ship, however, did not join in the fray for the healers’ duty was to bind the wounds of the injured and to bury the dead. That vessel now approached her sisters. Every one in Swayne’s fleet knew that no matter what fate might bestow on them, they would not be abandoned to the side when all their strength had been spent. Swayne decided to leave the healer’s vessel behind at the next township, for any soldier wounded in Sillander would be tended by the healers there. The horn blew and the fleet started to move down the main river. They left their wounded in a town called Jaim, two miles from the river junction. The townsfolk had watched the river battle from the cliffs and they welcomed the wounded and cried over the dead. Posadom stared down at the army of Merlk. His scouts had counted eight thousand strong if not more. His brow furrowed with hate. The enemy stopped right before the wasteland and an officer in brown rode towards the gate, bearing a torch in his hand thus giving everyone on the wall a clear view of him. He shouted in their language, “People of Netherweld. King Raul of Merlk offers a peaceful resolution and was rejected by your king. Surely you do not desire this war. Do you not want to return to your homes and your fields?” The arrogant action was calculated to make Posadom loose face. “Peace?” Casperlane shouted back, “Peace? For who? You rape and kill even your own daughters. What peace will we buy from you for ours?” The crowd within the wall stirred, yes, Lord Casperlane was right. Was not King Raul rumoured to have ordered the death of his own daughter, Luna? He had chopped off his son’s head because the youth wanted to change his warring ways. The stirring turned into a roar. The Merlk officer smiled, thinking that he had turned the tide against Posadom but he turned stony faced when he heard shouts of death to Raul, long live Posadom coming from the other side. Very well then, if they intend to fight, he would make this the worst fight ever. He turned his horse and rode back to the army. The soldiers of Merlk were angry, their efforts from the night before wasted. They were so angry they had hacked away at the Royal Institute of Learning. The structure now lay smouldering and Frad’s juniper woodcarvings ruined. They were angry yes, but they were also hungry and tired. The officers’ frustration had made them blind to the army’s need. The horn blower blew a loud blast, giving the order to charge. Hoarse shouts rose in the air, cumulating into a roar of thunder. Swords pointed upwards as bodies raced towards the wall. Willem, the commander of the parapets, raised his hand and every archer waited for him to give the signal while they kept one eye on the moving target. When he lowered his arm, the air came alive with the swishing of arrows. None were wasted, yet for every foe that fell two sprung forward to take his place. The archers shot their bows at a feverish pace and behind them, children scampered up and down the parapets replenishing empty quivers with more arrows that the carvers and blacksmiths below had made out of whatever wood or metal they could find. Archers of Merlk approached, sheltered beneath special shields with slits, and aimed at those on the parapets. Many hit their mark. Soon, newly trained youngsters crouched behind the wall and trembled with fear. Even experienced Netherweld archers could not penetrate the shields. Then the enemy rolled forward balistas that were armed with iron clasps and heavy ropes. Long hooks flew through the air and grappled the side of the wall. And immediately the ropes were pulled to raise ladders and foes. A few tried cutting the rigging but each time one was exposed ten archers from below would take aim and shoot him or her down. Posadom shouted for reinforcement from the army below. He ordered the younger archers to move to decorative turrets overlooking the walkway and told them to aim their shots at foes climbing over the wall. Then the king unsheathed his sword and shouted a war-cry as he sprinted forward. Soldier after soldier fell before they could climb over the parapet. Then Posadom saw a sight that made his heart quail. A trebuchet-like machine, with a huge iron ball swinging in the middle made its way slowly towards the inner city gate. That is impossible , he thought. They could not have moved that contraption through the country without being seen. Then he recalled that Formenscion could have built it right in the city itself without being noticed. The machine stopped in front of the gate. Five men turned a wheel, which pulled a long chain through a row of pulleys. The iron ball slowly rose, and an iron lever by the side turned like the hand of a clock. With horror Posadom watched as those turning the wheel stepped back and a man twisted the lever back to its original position. The mass of iron swung and crashed against the gate. A shout came from behind him and he turned with his sword lifted. The soldier careened into him harmlessly with an arrow jutting from his back. An archer on the turret shot down his attacker. He swung back to again stare at the gate, and was relieved to see that it still stood although splintered. The king’s head snapped when he heard a young voice shout, “Look, boats! Boats coming down the river!” His heart fell in his chest but hope swiftly returned when another called out, “Red banners, red banners... It is Santurst, it is Santurst!” for soldiers on the ships had held up torches next to their flaming red and black eagle. Then a new shout rose in a crescendo from the enemy’s rear. Frad had been true to his word and he had led Charles's troop through the tunnels. Their numbers were few compared to the foot soldiers of Merlk but they were fresh and the air outside the tunnels had given them a new leash of life. Charles’s company of two hundred men and women charged, for every single one of them had made up their minds to die valiantly that night. The turn of events surprised the Merlk officers. One man shouted for his rear soldiers to turn and face that new onslaught. That night, human nature cost Merlk its victory, for the brave and reckless had positioned themselves to the front, in the thick of battle, while the less valiant had only advanced reluctantly. Yet it was the best soldiers of Netherweld who charged the rear, where the weakest soldiers of Merlk stood. And these were torn between running and fighting. Swords faltered in mid air, arrows hesitated and spears did not point true so Charles and his group of two hundred managed to hack their way right into the middle of the army before they even met their match. A gun boomed from the river, soon followed by flying bodies in Merlk uniform. Charles was startled. He had expected guns to be aimed at the inner city wall. He called for his company to retreat back into the city. He counted his troop. The number of two hundred had been lessened by thirty-two while another fifteen soldiers were too wounded to fight. The Merlk officers quailed when they saw the small war crafts and called out a retreat. It was folly to fight Santurst’s guns as those could be aimed so low they could even strike a crouching man. From the sides of the ships, rowboats splashed and became filled with swarming forms. On reaching shore, Santurst soldiers clambered out and charged. The Merlk commander, who had waited in the barricade of buildings, ordered his army to charge back into the wasteland and towards the banks. The guns had allowed the garrison behind the wall to gain back the parapets. They threw down the hooks and cut the ropes. Posadom, drenched in sweat and holding a bloodied sword, watched the scene unfolding below him. Bronze and brown crashed into each another. Then a thin row of blue uniforms charged from the city. Suddenly above the shouts of the dying and the riot of the brave, he heard a great roar. He craned his neck and beheld a man, beautiful and young, a warrior king in the making. His sword swung without effort against the enemy and his sweat drench brow shone like jewels under the light of the torch. Merlk retreated. Dawn broke through the horizon, revealing bodies covered in brown, red and blue on the blackened ground. Merlk was forced to leave behind the huge iron ball which was too heavy to move in a hasty retreat. The damaged gate would not open, but nobody was of the mind to leave the war machine there for the enemy’s benefit. Frad approached it, and he saw that large iron screws, with shaft holes in the head for turning, held the structure in place. He called for the people on the parapet to throw down metal rods to him. Then he shoved a rod into the head of one screw and together with Bulgarth, turned it loose. More soldiers emulated him and when the structure fell apart, the iron ball fell with a dull thud. It was so heavy it formed a crater under itself and was thus held in place. A cheer rose from behind the wall. Charles offered his hand to the youngest warrior in bronze, whom the other soldiers appeared to treat with deference, and the recipient of his greeting said, “Tell your king that I will come to his place with my mother. She insisted on that." He scratched his dirty head, grunted and walked back to the row boats. Charles then realized that he had just spoken with Prince Makil and smiled to himself. He could understand why Swayne would insist to introduce him to Posadom herself as the young man was renowned for his uncourtly manners. Makil paused when he saw Bulgarth, for the large man perked his curiosity. “Where are you from?” he asked, forgetting to introduce himself. "I am from Monqui, my lord. A town along the Muse River.” “Yes, I have heard of the place. My mother told me that she had been there. You have seen military service?” “No, my lord, this is my first battle. I am a farmer.” “You fought well.” Bulgarth bowed, suspecting that he was not speaking with a normal soldier. "What is your name?” Makil asked. “I am Bulgarth of Dew Valley, my lord.” “Dew Valley? My mother likes the wine from there. We haven’t had any for some years though.” “The estate was taken three years ago.” “Why was that?” “I was accused of planning a revolt against the king.” “But you are serving him now are you not?” “Yes, my lord, I am.” Again the young man scratched his head. A shout came from the last row boat. “Your Highness!” a man with hands cupped to his mouth called out. “If you don’t get here right now, you will have to swim back.” The young prince laughed, “Coming now.” Three men began pushing the boat into the river without waiting for him, which made him dash to the banks. Makil waded in the river and managed to climb in before they were too far from the shore. There was laughter as hands pulled him up. Then he stood up, drenched from his waist down and waved back at the people gawking at them from the banks. He turned to face the ships, lifted up his fists and gave out a roar. His mother heard and smiled. Keldina marvelled as she had never seen such beauty in strength. When her governess told her stories about giant warriors she thought that they were only fables that grew ever larger with the passing of time. As the sun climbed higher over the horizon and warmed her face, the princess changed her mind.
|