Rise and Fall (66 page)

Sunul’s guard started to falter. The plainsmen’s right arm dipped and Tobin’s ax cut deep, causing one of the sabers to drop to the ground. Sunul’s eyes widened in shock. He staggered and slashed wildly in panic with his other saber. Tobin caught the blade with one ax while coming down with the other, cleaving into the center of the plainsmen’s skull.

Tobin’s attention went to the battle around him and he readied himself for another opponent. However, there were none. Cries erupted from the Yellow Plain Clan that their Warleader died and many on the left flank turned to flee. Others not in a position to do so simply yielded their weapons and bent a knee with head bowed.

His own clansmen watched in what appeared to be awe. For a battle that only moments before had been deafening, the left flank quieted. News of Sunul’s death quickly flowed through the remainder of the battlefield and the enemy fled. The Blue Island Clan defeated the Yellow Plain Clan with Tobin as Warleader.

A lone voice came from the right. Tobin faced the warrior who with sword held high, shouted Tobin’s name in rhythm to the thrusting of his arm. It was the young Kifzo he had reprimanded in the village some days ago. Tobin saw the look in his eyes as he stared across the blood soaked ground and saw in them what he had always wanted.

Respect.

Loyalty.

Admiration.

Pride.

Others joined the chant until thousands of voices cried out his name in unison.

He knew then that they doubted him no longer.

Chapter 29

Jonrell stood atop the high keep and looked over the wasteland of Cathyrium.

The fires in the outlying city had burned out, but wisps of smoke still swam through the air. Broken siege equipment torn to splinters from heavy boulders stood in heaps. A temporary ceasefire had been agreed upon to allow Tomalt to gather his dead. Some of the Hell Patrol’s old crew had not been fond of the gentleman’s way of war, but Jonrell would not have it any other way.

Though they fight against me, they are my countrymen.

He rubbed away the sleep from his blurred vision. Like most, he had slept little. He spent most of his time along the walls or towers, encouraging men, checking over the state of the castle, and mentally collecting information.

“The next attack will be the last. He is running out of time and resources,” said Kaz.

“Yes,” said Jonrell.

Jonrell had asked his friend to join him on top of the castle’s keep, hoping the warrior would provide a different perspective on events. Unfortunately, his perspective was a different sort of grim.

“What have you heard from your contacts in their camp?” asked Kaz.

He shrugged. “Either there is nothing to report or they’ve been discovered."

“Probably the latter,” Kaz muttered.

Alone on the rooftop, Jonrell looked over Kaz. Wiqua assured him that Kaz could fight, completely healed, though the scarring on his face and arms would take time to fade.

“Why did you do it?”

Kaz turned. “Do what?”

“Allow yourself to be healed with sorcery.”

Kaz worked his jaw and Jonrell saw him struggling to find the right words. “After all that you’ve done for me,” he paused, looking down, “it is the least I could do. I’m afraid I have nothing else to offer.”

Jonrell smiled and placed a hand on Kaz’s hard shoulder. “It is more than enough.” He paused and met the man’s eyes. “Thank you.” He sighed. “I see you struggling each day with the unknowns of your past. I can’t imagine what that’s like. Don’t let the few memories rule you. You’re a good man and an even better friend. One of the best friends I’ve had, for whatever that is worth. Don’t forget that.”

* * *

“Get those trebuchets loaded. One Above, Yanasi, pull your men back to the inner wall and take your marks from there. Arrows aren’t going to be what brings them down,” shouted Jonrell.
Hard headed girl. What’s she going to do when I’m not around to look after her?

Tomalt had grown tired of throwing men at the walls and wasting their lives. Only minutes ago, Jonrell had spotted eight robed figures strolling toward the castle through his spyglass. They approached confidently, as if they didn’t have a care in the world. Behind them, Tomalt’s ranks formed.

Two black mages, three green, and three yellow. And all I have are four to counter that, none of which are black. Caliva was right. I should have never let Krytien leave.

But it was too late for regrets. He had to make the best use of his assets. He pulled all resources back from the outer walls except the engineers and their siege equipment. He assigned his four mages to Raker and Drake, two in each corner drum tower.

Years of seeing mages in battle allowed him to guess their attack. The black robes, in the middle would use all their strength to bring down the castle’s walls. The green robes would either add support to the black robes or aid the yellow robes in protecting them.

He knew his siege equipment would not be able to penetrate all of their defenses. However, with his own mages in each tower, he hoped they could weaken one target at a time and eliminate the yellow mages first and then maybe a green one or two. Those lesser mages would be concentrating on the protection of the black-robed mages more than their own.

They black robes will probably still breach the wall, but at least this way we’ll be able to whittle down their numbers. It won’t be pretty battling the black robes afterward, but at least they’ll have to divert some of their power to protect themselves.

“Yanasi,” he shouted up to the turret that sat atop the inner wall’s gatehouse.

“Yes, Commander?”

“Where are they?”

“They just halted and are taking positions.”

“Fire the trebuchets now. We need to distract them,” Jonrell shouted. He looked at the runners who bounced up and down with a nervousness that bordered panic. “Get up to those towers and tell the engineers to let loose at their discretion.”

The runners sped off, skirting around the soldiers falling back through the inner gatehouse. Satisfied, he walked through the inner gate and took a position out front where Glacar eyed Kaz with a menacing glare.

Crusher stood a few paces back, looming above everyone. He stood out even among the thousands still alive. “Now what, Jonrell?”

“Now we wait for the signal, and then rush his men as they come through the breach.”

“What signal is that?”

“That all hell has broken loose.”

* * *

“We got that sucker,” hollered Raker, slapping the green robed mage on the back. After a few misses, one of the ballista missiles pierced a yellow-robed figure from across the field.
Ha. I wish I could see the look on the boy’s face when he sees we drew blood first.

A thought struck Raker. “Hey, I’ve always wondered why ya’ll don’t wear the same kind of robes, at least in battle. I mean, all those different colors sure makes it easier to prioritize targets.”

The green robe mage wheeled. “Do you mind? This isn’t as easy as you think it is, and I would rather not die if I can help it.”

Raker spat over the side, “Don’t get your skirt all bunched up. Just do what you gotta do and I’ll keep out of your way.” He turned and gave his men a look, pointing a thumb over his shoulder. “Mages.”

* * *

Blood thumped in Drake’s temple and he felt as though a stone block rested on his chest. He was both scared and excited as his men rushed to reload the mangonel.

“Raker got one,” said one of his men.

A holler rose from his men as the first mage died.

One Above, he beat me to it. He’s probably laughing over there and looking forward to rubbing it in my face.
“What color were the robes?” he shouted.

The corporal answered back. “Yellow.”

Drake grinned.
I know what will get Raker riled up.
“Turn all your attention to the closest green mage,” he told the mages standing near the merlons.

“But Jonrell said take out the yellow-robed ones first,” protested one.

“And I say we go for the green, and up here I’m in charge.”

“But there is a chance we won’t be able to pierce the shield completely.”

“I want you to feign an attack at the top of his defenses first, but hold back some when you do so. I want him to think we’re counting on the mangonel to penetrate his shields. When I say ‘Now’, shift your focus to the front of the mage’s body and put everything you have into weakening his defenses there. The real attack is coming from the ballista. Can you do that?”

“I think so.”

“Don’t think, just do,” said Drake, doing his best to sound tough.
Not bad. Maybe I’m getting the hang of this after all.

Drake shouted over to one of the smaller towers further down the wall, where a ballista rested. “You fire that weapon when I give the command, not a second sooner or later.”

“We’re ready now,” came a shout back.

“Ok, let’s do this,” Drake said, looking back to his men.

He gave the signal and the mangonel’s arm slammed into the wooden crossbeam and rock flew into the air. As the rock reached its peak he shouted to the mages. “Now.” At the same instant he dropped his arm, signaling the ballista to fire.

The green mage expected the attack to come from above and therefore could not recover to guard his front while maintaining the defenses over the black-robed mages. A missile hit the mage in the sternum, blasting him back and pinning him to the ground.

Drake jumped up. “We got him.” He could have sworn he heard a curse from across the castle.

* * *

“…that cocky little…”

“Sir,” said Senald cutting Raker off.

“Boy what’s wrong with you? Don’t ever interrupt a man while he’s in the middle of a tirade.”

“Uh, sorry Sir. It’s just that it’s happening,” said Senald, pointing out across the field.

Raker felt the sudden thinning of air.

This is going to be bad. Really bad.

“Quick lads, get another round ready and aim for another yellow one. We ain’t taking our chances with the others. We need another kill before they come at us full force.”

* * *

The concussive force caused the outer gatehouse to burst apart. As Jonrell struggled to gain his breath, bits of debris fell from the sky and the granite wall glowed red.

A hand went to his shoulder and he faced Crusher. The giant’s mouth moved, but the only sound Jonrell could hear was a high-pitched buzz. “What?” he yelled, shaking his head in attempt to clear out his ears.

“I said, that had better be the signal,” said Crusher.

Through the gaping hole in the castle wall, Jonrell saw Tomalt’s men rushing past the distant mages, racing toward the castle’s breach. “Yanasi, open fire,” he yelled and a volley of arrows flew into the closing masses.

He unsheathed his sword and held it aloft. This was the final stand. There was little left in the way of strategy now. There was only the will of one man against another, and for that, he needed to be here. He let out a cry and ran toward the gap. Pounding steps and echoing cries followed him.

Today the battle is decided.

* * *

Elyse pushed her mount through the low lying branches, Jeldor coming in beside her. His men had run the last several hundred yards after hearing the thunderous blast that shook her insides. They pulled up on their reins. “One Above, we’re too late.”

“No, Your Majesty. The wall has been breached, but the fighting continues. We still have time.” He twisted about in the saddle and yelled out over his lines. “Captains, form ranks. I know you’re tired, lads, but we’re here now and ready for the payoff.” He paused. “This is our chance to inflict a little payback on all those who’ve looked down upon us and our lands. Let’s make all the effort we went through count.”

A shout erupted and within moments, men began their march toward the castle at a double-time pace. The Duke turned in his saddle. “You’ll be staying here, Your Majesty. I’ll leave two squads for your protection.”

“One is more than enough,” said Kroke pulling in beside Elyse. “You need all the men you can spare. Besides, I’ll be here with her.”

Elyse turned in her saddle. “But don’t you want to be in the mix to help your brethren?”

“Aye, but I’ve got my orders to see to your safety above all else and I’ve never been one to break command.”

“Your Majesty?” asked Jeldor.

Elyse nodded. “Go. I’ll be fine.”

Jeldor managed a slight bow in his saddle and rode off as he shouted and pushed his men forward. Rygar rode with him, too worried about Yanasi to wait any longer.

Elyse looked over at Kroke who gripped the hilt of a dagger and twisted it in his hand as he watched the fighting from afar. “Thank you. I know this isn’t easy.”

Kroke’s eyes seemed hollow, distant. “No, it’s not.”

She felt guilty. “I’m sorry. Perhaps, you should go after all. I’m sure a squad of Jeldor’s men is enough to guard me.”

“No,” said Kroke. “I do not renege on my word, and if it’s all the same, I don’t trust anyone else to look after you after what we’ve been through.”

Elyse looked up and smiled.

The two turned back to the scene in the distance, swarming bodies amidst a cacophony of screams.

* * *

His men had formed a barricade of sorts near the breach. They fought in packed surroundings, some climbing over fallen stone, as they dodged blows from the enemy. Their effort made Jonrell proud.

We will not be taken easily, Tomalt.

Jonrell did not want to lose ground, but the sheer number of Tomalt’s forces caused them to slowly waver. As the two armies intertwined, arrow fire ceased, lest archers hit men from their own ranks. The mangonels and ballista had also been abandoned and Jonrell could see Raker now leading men with a wide grin while wreaking havoc with his mace.

However, nothing seemed to deter the sorcery that ravaged the presses. The entanglement of bodies, the coalescence of suffering and death, only grew worse with each attack from Tomalt’s mages. The four mages Jonrell had at his disposal refused to give up, but they could not stop the tendrils of sorcery that crawled through the air toward his men.