Chapter 16

Talibor rushed down to the fallen form, following behind his soldiers. Anxious to see who the victim was, he pressed past the group of soldiers to the lifeless battered form. “From the looks of it, it was an assassin,” his officer reported. Talibor found the blowgun in the firm clutches of the dead Masok and located the dart pinned through a belt the assassin wore.

“I suppose he died from the fall?” Talibor asked, looking up to the command post looming above them.

“No sir,” replied the officer. “He was stabbed.” Talibor scrunched an eyebrow.

“How is that possible? No one could climb this wall with a knife wound.” Talibor wondered.

“Aye, sir. I think he was stabbed on the wall,” the officer stated.

“How?” Talibor still wondered. He looked back up to the neck and back down to the lifeless body. He bent closer and looked carefully at the intruder. It was clad in differing shades of gray leather with numerous weapons. The dark eyes gazed ever-upward, glazed over by the departure of the spirit. The mouth was slightly ajar, showing the fine pointed teeth of the Masok and its fingers were torn and bloody from the climb. At last Talibor stood. “Search him and then we shall send him back to his own kind.” The soldiers obeyed and circled around the body, as Talibor went back to the command post. The sun dipped beneath the horizon, sending a flare of color through the clouds, and the wind died down. As Talibor reached the command post, the light began to quickly fade, and torches were lit. The fortress was soon bathed in the flickering firelight and Talibor related the riddle of the assassin to Valimor and Boltor.

“Interesting…a warning had been growing in my mind, a shadow of some sort had gripped me, but I ignored it. Now I understand. But, that is most curious—stabbed, you say?” Valimor wondered aloud.

“I would say no human could be capable of climbing the wall; therefore my guess would linger with either Balii or Jumai. Remember, they were the captains of this army. If any of their soldiers could do it, I would bet that they could,” Boltor claimed, crossing his arms to ward off the cold. Then, without warning a white flake floated past him. He glanced upward and a barrage of dark specks littered the sky. Soon a veil of snowflakes enveloped them.

“Hmmm. Good observation, Boltor. That may be so. A heroic action like that would have to be rewarded. But how could he have known…that is the deeper question. I can’t imagine that it was set up, but it is possible,” Talibor noted. Boltor shook his head.

“No, I believe he just happened to see the intruder, or perhaps he felt the same warning in his mind and acted on it. At any rate, my lord, you are safe and the intruder is dead. Surely that deserves reward,” Boltor stated. Talibor nodded taking a deep breath and folding his arms.

“We will talk with them later, if such an opportunity arises,” Talibor stated emphatically. “However, we have a battle to prepare for.”

-¤-

“And what happened next?” Fiora wondered. Falcor jolted, as if awakened from a dream. He shivered and looked at his sister and smiled slyly. “We almost made it through the defenses of the temporary headquarters. But Spanky here thought it a good idea to only wound his guard, instead of killing him like I told him…”

“Now hang on a minute; it’s all explainable,” Emain interrupted.

“Oh? Have I heard this one?” Falcor mocked, but Emain just rolled his eyes and continued.

“It was like this: he scoped it out beforehand and told me he was going to take the left side—the more guarded side—while I slipped through the right side to take out two sentries. Of course this might have worked if he had gone first, but because of some phobia of his, he sent me first…”

“That’s not what I told you to do; I said we were to go at the same time. I told you it was ‘one, two, three, go’ but this guy jumps on three! What was I supposed to do?”

“You didn’t explain anything! You just started counting, and naturally I went on three like any other sane person in the world.”

“No, I specifically stated ‘after three’ not ‘on three.’”

“I don’t think so. It’s just like you ‘stated’ that weapons were in the armory.”

“Hey, it was just as good a guess as any! Besides I didn’t here any brilliant suggestions coming from yourself.”

“That’s ‘cause it was a big camp! They could have been anywhere!”

Fiora watched in a mix of amazement and frustration as the two bickered like sibling rivals. When she could no longer stand the argument, she jumped in and stopped the conversation. “Enough!” she exclaimed. The two fell silent and an awkward stillness filled the room. “So how did you escape anyway?” she asked. Falcor grinned widely and Emain laughed.

“Well, I dispatched his guards, too, but only after they had sounded the alarm; so we had to take cover in a supply hut nearby. We surprised a few after we both decided to head towards the armory to search for the weapons,” Falcor began, but Emain interrupted again.

“Except, neither of us had any idea where it was.”

“It had to be near the middle, with smoke rising from the forge, and YES an armory would have a forge,” Falcor countered.

“And you know it’s very likely that on a cold rainy night like that the armory would be the ONLY building with a fire inside,” Emain noted with a sarcastic eyebrow raise.

“Hey, I found it didn’t I?” Falcor answered.

“On our fourth try!”

“Well you weren’t helping very much cowering in the shadows.”

“I didn’t think they were in the armory in the first place!”

“And where did you think they were?”

“How was I supposed to know?”

“A logical guess would do!”

Fiora shook her head and decided to let the answers come at their own pace.

“Anyway,” Falcor continued, noticing his sister’s mounting frustration, “we snuck into the armory and took care of the smiths with little difficulty.”

“But, of course, the weapons weren’t there. So he suggests an even better place to look for them: the headquarters.”

“I bet that’s where they were, too!” Falcor defended.

“And the insignificant three divisions of elite guards…”

“It was only two,” Falcor claimed with sideways glance to Fiora.

“Three. And we might have cleared the place if we had set fire to their food storage like I suggested earlier and…”

“And if I had listened to you, the both of us wouldn’t be here right now. Remember the scouting group that returned? They would have surrounded us the moment you lit your flame.”

“Whatever. At any rate, the elite guards’ ranks were completely impenetrable,” Emain declared.

“That’s not the right word for it. If you had followed my lead on the other side of the entrance and tripped up the first two…” Falcor started.

“You mean, the first five…”

“No, two. The other three were on my side.”

“But they would have come at me, ‘cause they wouldn’t have seen you from their angle.”

“That’s why we were supposed to go together.”

“And how was I supposed to know that?”

“Hand motions,” Falcor stated, charading the motions he had given. An index finger pointed at his chest, the middle finger at Emain, and then the two fingers swiveling and moving away from his body. “Me, you, through the door, same time. It’s not that hard to grasp.”

“For you…”

“Well, he didn’t go when I went and instead, he turned and fled—right into the returning scouting party. I realized this only after I had killed three of those ‘elite’ guards and so I had to retreat, grab him, and flee before the whole encampment came down on us.”

“The whole camp did come down on us,” Emain corrected but Falcor ignored him.

“Fortunately the gloom of the evening abetted us. The elites’ bloodthirstiness must have led them to confuse the first of the weary incoming scouts with us. So we ducked into a small cooking hut with the few minutes the distraction provided. I dispatched the single warrior within, but we doubted we had much time before the entire encampment came alive like a stomped agnat hill.”

“Which it did.”

“We re-costumed ourselves as best we could with mud and grass before we made our break for the walls. It was simple really. We crawled in the shadows as far as we possibly could, then…”

“He actually listened to me, which is the only reason we escaped,” Emain announced. Falcor sighed and nodded.

“We lit a fire within one of their storage buildings, though it was tough to find one with combustible material within it. They love stone more than the emperor does.”

“Oh,” Fiora chimed in. “That reminds me. Falcor, the old Emperor is dead. Talibor has received the position now.” Falcor squinted and pressed his lips together.

“A conspiracy?”

“No,” she answered. “Talibor wanted to bring the Imperial Army here to Harken to drive off the invaders. The Emperor tried to stop him personally and Talibor slew him, though everyone says it was in self-defense.” Falcor drank in her words carefully, sipping at them as if it were his hot cup of tea. Gradually, the implications washed over him.

“So he’s here then, Talibor is?” he asked. She nodded. “I hope he’s not the boy I remember…” he began, but his sister interrupted him.

“He’s not,” she replied firmly with a fierce gaze. Then her expression softened. “But tell me, how did you receive your injuries?”

“Oh, those,” he stated, with sideways glance to Emain, who shrunk back into his chair. “They are nothing, really. Just the result of a miscommunication I should have expected. If not for his bravery and stupidity afterward, though, I just might be hanging in some torture chamber right now.”

“What happened?” Fiora gasped.

“Let’s just say he heard ‘wait!’ when I said ‘break!’”

-¤-

Ever-closer the sun dropped to the horizon as Talibor watched. Time ticked away, as various dialogues and questions came his way. Soon the sky was ablaze, and soldiers began to assume their positions. A messenger came, reporting that lord Daril and his cavalry were hidden and ready to ride at the predetermined signal. With every inch of sky the sun passed on its journey to the horizon, Valimor handled issues when they sprang up, worrying about nothing and anticipating everything. At last, as the sun disappeared, Talibor and Boltor joined him at the command post. A chill crept into the air and tickled their noses. A soft breeze blew dark shadows past the rising moon. Patches of black consumed the stars, until not a single speck of light shone through. The faint glow of the moon was finally cut off by the building clouds. Torches along the walls, towers and soldiers lit the city in a slight, flickering light. Bathed in a dim orange, the fortress stood out like a lighthouse in a stormy sea. The air became quiet as soldiers stood at their positions. Silence embraced the fortress-city—only a few random whispers were exchanged between soldiers. Soon the once crisp atmosphere began to blur. Valimor wondered if it were only his eyes and rubbed them. He turned to Talibor and saw the first snowflake of the winter float past. He looked back to the wall and found only a faint dim hue, obliterated by the descending blanket of snow.

-¤-

Talibor gazed through the darkening twilight and the descending snow. The other three turned and looked past the orange-lit flakes falling past them, and found the line of light appear in the dark. A river of lights slowly proceeded towards them, and the city fell silent as the soldiers heard of the army and the pounding beat of their marching became clearer. Boltor nodded to the other two.

“I think I will go to my post. My lords…” Talibor and Valimor nodded, and Boltor turned to leave. He descended the stairs and slipped through the gate of the inner walls. His pace quickened as adrenaline began to rush through his veins. At last he ascended the short staircase to the outer walls. He found his command post and ordered his soldiers into position. Balii and Jumai moved behind him. After issuing his orders he spun and smiled. “It will be an honor, my friends,” he said, placing his hands on their outside shoulders.

“We shall fight long and hard, not for your empire, or even your emperor, but for you and lord Valimor. We shall defend your men and his city…and if by that we defend your empire, it is done.”

“I know Talibor is skeptical of you and you are at odds with him, but I thank you for your respect of lord Valimor and me. I will look for you during the battle,” Boltor said and turned to see the approaching blaze of lights, obscured by the falling snow. “Soon we shall face the true test of our skill and brotherhood.” The marching footsteps grew and echoed through the city as the river of torches poured into the foothills below the city, moving steadily upward to the towering gates. Dull reflections of armor and flashes of weapons speckled the night. Through the haze of snow, the soldiers on the walls of Harken watched in silence. Not so much as a whisper drifted through the city. The mountains had disappeared and the fortress had faded into the thickening snowfall. Boltor found himself straining to see even the far northern end of the wall. The lights drew closer and clearer. At last he found he could see one Masok warrior, clad as Balii or Jumai marching on the ground. Then a horn blew clearly into the night and the army of lights stopped.

“Archers, ready your bows,” he commanded. Moving silhouettes filled the wall with shadows. Balii and Jumai removed their bows and stepped closer to the wall, fingering the arrows in their quiver. Boltor watched the soldier intently, but found that lights still moved behind the front lines; they were assuming battle formation. “Draw your bows,” Boltor ordered. Jumai and Balii smoothly pulled an arrow from their quiver and drew the string back. All across the walls, the simple action was repeated. Each stood as a statue in the descending snow. Another horn blow erupted from the sea of lights before them. The warriors let out a fierce battle cry, but did not move.

“Stand with me,” Boltor cried, “and send these warriors fleeing into the darkness. Men of Ashton, I bid you to fight; fight until the sun rises!” The men on the wall erupted in a war call. After a moment, Boltor yelled again. The men answered. He bellowed a final time, and the soldiers joined him in the battle cry. The horn from the oblivion sounded again and the soldiers rushed the walls.

“Release arrows!” Boltor cried and the first wave of soldiers fell. Each archer expertly pulled another arrow and drew the bowstring back again, firing into the second line. “Fire at will!” Boltor commanded and drew his sword. The snap of bowstrings filled the air, and the dull strikes of pierced armor and thuds of fallen warriors accompanied them. Soon ladders began to rise through the haze of snow and the foot-soldiers defending the wall slid their swords from their sheathes and waited for the ladders. Boltor’s hands quivered as his thoughts drifted to his wife. He pictured her quiet eyes and loving gaze. He could almost feel her smooth, dark hair in his hands. He heard his sons’ laughter echoing through his mind. He saw their dark wonder-filled eyes watching him. His right eye closed halfway. His fingers clutched his sword. This would be his vengeance—his time to release the pain he held.

A ladder rose in front of him and, shortly after it hit the wall, a Masok soldier leapt off it. Boltor thrust his sword up, impaling the invader. He pulled the weapon back, sliding the enemy off his blade. He saw Jumai shoot an incredulous soldier in the eye with a well-aimed arrow. He turned and kicked the ladder down and made his way north towards the gate. A larger ladder had cleared a space for the enemy to defend themselves on the wall. Boltor ran towards them and a soldier beside him fell from and arrow. He bellowed a war cry and lunged into the enemy, bringing his blade around in a powerful swipe. Two Masoks fell and he spun into the rest. His weapon slashed back around and knocked three more to the ground.

Boltor brought the sword back around in an overhead slash, knocking a sixth soldier to the ground and slicing neatly through his armor and chest. An arrow whizzed past him, striking a soldier leaping from the ladder in mid-air. He spun from his crouched position and kicked a soldier to the ground as another warrior rushed him, sword swinging. Boltor parried and thrust his sword through him. With the dead warrior sliding from his sword, Boltor swung the blade back around and sliced another enemy across the belly. A howl from behind him turned him around in time to block an overhead chop. He swung the enemy’s weapon down and jabbed his blade through him backwards, turning to face the ladder once more.

Several more arrows felled the Masoks climbing the ladders. Another enemy rushed him, and Boltor snapped his fists, clutching the hilt of his sword, upwards and knocked the soldier on his back. He easily plunged the weapon into the fallen soldier and rose in an arching swing, swiping the head off a second charging warrior. He searched around him to find other soldiers involved in smaller one-on-one battles.

To the south Balii expertly wielded both his sword and the new knife, knocking enemies to the floor without opening himself to attack. Jumai wielded his bow wonderfully, moving slowly southward to aid the fight, plucking his arrows from the fallen. A shout from a fellow soldier brought his attention to three rushing attackers. He side-stepped the first swing, parried the second, and knocked the third away. He ducked the second’s next strike and impaled him with a quick thrust. The first tried to hew the unbalanced Boltor in half, but Boltor reached out and stopped his arm, throwing him to the ground. Using his momentum, he spun and parried the thirds new attack. With a few expert sword-strokes, he flung the weapon from the Masoks hand and skewered him. He pulled his weapon from the sinking from and parried the first’s attack. He kicked him back and sliced him across the chest, spinning him to the ground. He stabbed the figure in the back with his sword. Rising he found himself apart from any conflict.

He searched momentarily and found Balii holding off a storm of attackers coming from two ladders on either side of him. He leapt forward and sliced a warrior before he could draw an arrow and spun again into the attackers with a wicked swing of his blade. He knocked two more down, opening their backs up like a scythe through fresh grain. Balii parried a fresh attack and plunged his knife into the soldier’s throat, and spun, thrusting his weapon deep into the abdomen of another. He knocked a sword from a third warrior’s hands and sliced him across the chest with his sword and across the neck with his knife.

Balii parried another’s attack and lunged past him, driving the knife into his back. He met two new attackers and brought both blades around, each smashing into a different warrior. They both stumbled back and Balii easily sliced them both in the belly and worked towards Boltor, who had pummeled three different warriors with a blistering overhead swipe. He ducked another attack and lunged into the attacker’s legs, flipping the warrior over himself and plunging his sword down into him.

The chill in the air did nothing to douse the flame that had arisen in Boltor. His sword flashed in the orange glow and a pile of the dead grew about him. At last he kicked a ladder down and cleared Balii’s back. He turned to see a group of archers drop a charging group of Masoks. He ran towards the gate, for it appeared to be suffering the most. He sprinted past the archers, but felt their arrows zing past his head. Each struck another target with wonderful precision. He began to tear into the Masoks jumping from the ladders. He thrust forward and pinned two together, slid his sword out, and spun it in a high arc to parry a leaping attack from a warrior. As he struck the finishing blow, a bright flash caught his eyes.

Through the haze of falling snow, a glistening blue flare streaked upwards into the sky. Every eye in the city drifted to the glowing bolt. Boltor remembered what Balii had said and knew that this was the signal. He tore his eyes from the sight and met Balii’s gaze. Balii nodded. A surge of adrenaline rushed through Boltor. They didn’t know of the power! He glanced over his shoulder and jumped back, avoiding a side slash. He charged back into battle as a hope for victory now rose in his heart, and he decided he needed to instill this hope in the souls of the others. He let out a war cry and attacked.