OrbSoul (Book 6) (17 page)

   More: the slooths now attacked the new defences themselves. Massive wings beating, they grasped mesh and netting with their powerful claws and wrenched them wholesale from their moorings. Large gaps were rent upon the ramparts and roofs of towers, whole areas being stripped away, leaving the soldiers wide-open to attack from above. Under such pressure they were more hard-pressed than ever to deal with the Karai who now crowded the gate and rushed to the walls with scaling ladders out of the darkness. As the night wore on it became apparent that the barbican and gate, the vital stronghold that was the most important key to the city, was in real danger of being overrun.

   A similar story began to unfold at the gate of Orbia Palace. Here, due to the high, densely-packed buildings close by on either side, and the more effective defensive structures, the slooths had a less easy task. Nevertheless, assault was diverse and relentless, and within the gate the war-trolls and Karai fought to occupy the approaches, thus preventing reinforcements from relieving the beleaguered forces manning the gatehouse itself.

   The fighting continued without let-up through the night. In the snowy dark the
Karai and their allies, with their superior vision, were distinctly advantaged. The winged slooths and large-footed trolls were also less affected by the ground which was becoming more and more slippery and hampering the movements of regular troops as the snow accumulated.

   As dawn broke Pader Luminis, gazing from a window in the upper level of the Royal Palace, grew despondent. The extent of the
Karai encroachments into the city-castle became plain. It was a strange scene that he gazed upon. The snow no longer fell, but a pure white cloth two inches deep lay upon the city, cladding roofs, walls and parapets. The picturesque tranquility of this scene was at odds with the ugly backdrop of fires and plumes of dark smoke curling high into the laden sky, and the sight here and there in the streets of exhausted men, beasts and Karai fighting for their lives.

   Slooth-flights had ceased hours ago, in the dark hours, but it was evident that some hundreds of
Karai and war-trolls had been transported over the walls, and had established strong, well-chosen footholds from which they were not going to be easily uprooted. Reports arriving virtually by the minute indicated that losses on both sides had been punishing, but in a number of locations the enemy had succeeded in gaining the upper hand, forcing the defenders of Enchantment's Reach to abandon several important positions.

   At the high window Pader Luminis took off his spectacles and wiped the lenses, shaking his head and muttering to himself. 'This is a terrible day.
A terrible, terrible day that I had hoped never to have to witness.'

  
Beside him stood Kol. He leaned upon a crutch. His right arm was in a splint and sling. His face was contused and swollen and a rigid frame had been set around his neck, preventing him from turning his head. His encounter with the war-troll in the Palace had left him with multiple injuries, lucky to have lived. Nevertheless he had insisted in rising from his bed. His features were pale, drawn tight and contorted with pain. He said, 'Do we have the capability to repulse them?'

   Pader Luminis hesitated,
then began, 'I fear--'

   A lump rose involuntarily in his throat and choked off his words.

   In the chamber behind them stood three of Enchantment's Reach's most senior knights, vexation etched into their features. Aides and messengers came and went, bringing hastily scrawled notes or verbal reports of the latest developments.

   The hours passed and there was no let-up. Reports continued to indicate the worst. Sir Grenyard stepped up alongside Pader Luminis and said in a low voice, 'Lord Protector, we must consider contingency plans for your safety.'

   'My safety?'

   'We have to consider your removal to a place of safety, before it is too late.'

   'What place of safety would that be?'

   'It may just be possible to take you from Enchantment's Reach, while the enemy is distracted. Alternatively--'

   Pader Luminis fixed him with a steely glare. 'Sir Grenyard, I am going nowhere. I wish to make this very plain. And should Prince Anzejarl ever succeed in breaking through our defences and entering our beloved Enchantment's Reach, then I, as Regent and Protector pro tem, shall be here to receive him, to discuss terms and conditions.'

   Sir Grenyard stiffened. 'My lord--'

   'Is that understood?'

  
'Quite, my lord.'

   Pader inhaled a tremulous breath, and released it. 'Are you saying that the situation is now beyond hope?'

   'It is -
ahem!
- it is only a matter of time, my lord. Without outside intervention we are doomed.'

*

   The day wore on in its bloody and unalterable fashion. Snow came in flurries, ceased, fell again. The fighting showed no surcease. At last, with the first intimations of dusk beginning to gather about the heights of Enchantment's Reach one further message was brought to Pader Luminis. His heart sank as he read the fateful words: the outer gate and barbican of the city-castle had fallen. The full force of the Karai army was pouring into the city-castle. Prince Anzejarl had called for an unconditional surrender.

   The day was lost.

iii

   On his sleek jet stallion Prince Anzejarl sat tall and proud beneath the arch of the huge, battered main gate of Enchantment's
Reach, surveying the massive barbican and the fabulous city towers beyond. Huge, lazy snowflakes drifted  past his seamed white face, settling on his cloak, the shoulders of his black armour and his mount's long mane. He chewed on bitter
ghinz
and briefly savoured the rapture of a victory greater than any he had so far experienced.

   Beside him was Olmana, the hood of her heavy winter cape thrown back. The lightest breeze played with loose strands of her lustrous, snow-specked red hair. She gripped her horse's reins tightly, her lips stretched in a tight, passionate smile and her startling green eyes lit with a
triumphal blaze as she gazed towards the glittering marble towers of the Palace of Orbia.

   She shifted slightly, then twisted in her saddle and looked back through the great gate into the slowly gathering murk that hung above the far forest below. Anzejarl noted the change in her expression. Her smile shrank; some new concern haunted her eyes. Anzejarl was conscious of the hidden currents passing behind her beautiful brow. She doubted. She questioned. What? He knew no details; she confided nothing. But her concern revolved around the mysterious Child that she sought. Quite recently something had changed. Though she strove not to show it, Olmana seemed confused. Something had come adrift.

   Olmana grew aware of his gaze upon her. She turned back, a spasm of irritation flitting across her face.

   'Do you sense the Child?' Anzejarl enquired softly.

   Her lips twisted, her look conveying only displeasure and contempt. She said nothing.

   All around them, lining the streets, were
Karai warriors. In their thousands, silent and proud in victory and the knowledge of a task well-accomplished. Isolated skirmishes were still being fought here and there throughout the city-castle, but Anzejarl knew - as did the city's defenders - that the fall of the barbican and gate marked the end. The battle was won. To fight on was pointless and futile. It was obvious to all concerned that, once inside the city, the Karai could not be repulsed. Their numbers were overwhelming. Further fighting would result only in a tidal flow of blood and needless loss of life, with the eventual outcome never in question.

   In acknowledgement of this, and in answer to the terms his herald had borne to the Palace of Orbia, word had now arrived from the government of Enchantment's Reach. Capitulation was offered. The government demanded only Anzejarl's assurance and guarantee that there would be no slaughter, no reprisals or vindictive measures of any kind taken against the citizens or soldiery of Enchantment's Reach. The government and Crown of Enchantment's Reach recognized Prince Anzejarl as a descendant of a long and venerable line, an honourable and distinguished member of the
Karai royal dynasty, a warrior and noble bound by the codes and strictures of his people. Hence the government, in soliciting his protection for the population of Enchantment's Reach, was prepared to accept the integrity of his word.

   Strangely, although the document bore the Royal Seal it was signed not by King Leth but by his Lord Protector, Pader Luminis, a man of whom Anzejarl had only the vaguest knowledge. He had been a junior ambassador many years ago, on a diplomatic mission to Zhang. Nothing about him stood out in Anzejarl's memory.

   The lack of Leth's signature set up a series of questions in Anzejarl's mind, but he had sent back word of his agreement nonetheless. The Greatest Prize was his. He could agree to anything, as he pleased. He was his own Law, and his word to an inferior species was of negligible account. Silently he damned their foolish human impertinence.

   Moreover, decisions as to the precise nature of what happened next were not his. The thought grated as it rose into consciousness. He glanced narrowly aside again at Olmana. It was she who would decide the fate of the citizens and soldiery of Enchantment's Reach.

   He spurred his horse into motion, beginning the journey up the long, snow-covered boulevard that led to the Palace of Orbia.

iv

   Pader Luminis, torn and all but broken, grappled with his conscience as he waited in nervous anticipation with several members of the Crown Advisory Committee in the Hall of Wise Counsel. Had he made the right decision? Should he have fought on, even knowing there was no hope?

   There were those among his advisors who held that the word of a
Karai conqueror, no matter his lineage, was of no consequence. The Karai, as a matter of course, held scant regard for those they deemed inferior. In the opinion of these advisors, the best the occupants of Enchantment's Reach could hope for was enslavement and the harshest labour. Any who could perform no useful function to their potential overmasters could expect to die. The issue was exacerbated by Prince Anzejarl's manifest link with the True Sept. It was no secret that to the Sept, unbelievers had, by the very fact of their non-conviction, relinquished their right to existence.

   These advisors believed Pader had just granted Prince Anzejarl and the True Sept licence to commit vengeance at their leisure.

   Pader, still reeling from not only the shock of the suddenness and devastating effectiveness of the assault, but also Mawnie's murder and the disappearance of her infant daughter, Lir, and subsequently, Lord Fectur, had found himself wavering. Others of his advisors, however, were in accord with his opinion that surrender had now become the only viable option. The Royal Palace might hold on against the assault for - conceivably, and at most - another day or two, but the consequences for the thousands of people in the occupied city-castle were too terrible to contemplate. No one doubted that in order to break the spirit of the Palace defenders, Anzejarl would put innocent citizens to torture and torment in full view of Orbia's walls. In their scores, if not hundreds or even thousands. And reprisals when the Palace did eventually fall would be all the more terrible. As war-trolls and shock-troops were already battling inside Orbia's walls, even though the Palace gate still held, it could truly only be a matter of time.

   Even so Pader had agonized for more than an hour before taking the decision to order
a surrender. To throw themselves upon the mercy of the Karai? It seemed an absurd notion. But with the city gate and barbican down there was no way now to stem the Karai influx. If they could save as many lives as possible today, was there yet a hope that Leth and/or Issul might return, bringing with them the supernatural help that would liberate their cherished kingdom again?

   As a last ditch measure several units of special forces were ordered under cover, ready to rise and strike against the invader as and when the opportunity might present itself. Then an emissary was sent out, bearing word of Pader's conditional agreement to surrender.

   Pader was perched upon the edge of his chair on the Royal Dais. Alongside him the Seat of the Sovereign remained empty in honour of the absent monarch. Around the Hall soldiers were in attendance. Karai soldiers, about fifty in all, silent, impassive, watchful.

  
Karai soldiers guarding the Hall of Wise Counsel!

   Pader experienced a welter of emotion, an enormous welling rising from the pit of his gut, threatening to burst him apart from within. Silence hung upon the Hall like a granite weight. He sat motionless, his throat constricted, his eyes upon the floor. His conqueror obliged him to wait.

   The minutes slid by, and at last he heard the sound of purposeful footsteps approaching from beyond the double doors at the rear of the Hall. His heart kicked. The doors swung open. Ten Karai heralds entered carrying slender brass horns from which banners bearing Karai colours were suspended. They stood five to each side of the doorway, raised their instruments and blew a shrill fanfare. A twelve-strong guard of honour marched in and proceeded down the length of the central aisle to take up positions before the dais. Moments later Prince Anzejarl swept through the doors, accompanied by a trio of battle-scarred, seamed-faced generals. Anzejarl marched directly to the dais, his searing gem eyes sweeping and appraising the Hall as he went. He took in the empty throne. His eyes flashed at Pader.