Chapter 35
Leonosis
At first light Draggah saw the flags signaling to him that his men were in position. They had bombarded the city walls for over an hour, the war ships using all the fire bombs to ensure that no one could survive on the city walls. He lost several ships in the process, but Draggah didn’t care about losses. The demon had no concern for the lives of the men that fought under his command. Instead he reveled in the destruction his ships had caused. The flames danced high upon the walls of the city, filling the air with oily, black smoke that Draggah saw as an omen, a portent of the city’s doom.
Leonosis was grief-stricken. He had no real love for the people or history of the place where he was born and raised, but he hated to see the needless destruction of something so beautiful. Draggah had no appreciation for things of value, but even in Leonosis’ state of torment and misery, he could see the wastefulness of the demon’s plans.
“Take us down,” Draggah told the captain of the sky ship.
“You’re going down there?” Ariel asked.
“I am,” Draggah said, and Leonosis felt the thrill of excitement that Draggah reveled in at the prospect of being so near the death and destruction. “I am a master of mayhem, a god of destruction. Where else would I be?”
Leonosis knew all too well that Draggah’s boastful claims were true. Whatever the spirit creature was, he thrived on misery and torment. The wicked creature feasted on death. Ariel looked for a moment like she might argue, but then a look of disgust flashed in her eyes, and she turned away. Draggah saw it, Leonosis knew that, but her disdain merely made him smile. Leonosis could feel the demon’s pleasure, and her disappointment in his gruesome desire only made the thrill more delicious.
“You should come and learn to enjoy the fruit of our labor.”
“I want men to bow at my feet, not spill their blood all over my shoes,” Ariel snapped.
Draggah laughed out loud. To Leonosis it was a hideous sound. He could hear his own voice, yet the laugh was almost hysterical. It sounded like he was losing his mind, and that was his greatest fear—that he would lose himself to the horrid demon’s will.
The ship drifted down slowly and eventually docked on a relatively stable section of the city wall. As they got closer, Leonosis could see what damage the fire bombs had done. The top of the wall had been built out over the edge and had wooden supports. The supports had burned to ash, and the impacts of the heavy, liquid-filled projectiles had shattered the overhang in most places. The parapets along the outside of the wall were smashed or missing completely, and the flag stones were scorched. The mortar that held the massive stones together was cracked. The top of the wall had been level and flag stones laid to make an even surface to fight from, but those stones had broken and cracked under the heat. The mortar had expanded in some places, pushing the stones out of alignment and making the entire surface uneven. If left that way, Leonosis knew the elements would soon take a toll on the wall, decaying it and breaking it down.
Draggah either didn’t notice or simply didn’t care. His soldiers caught the ropes the sailors had dropped and tied the huge vessel fast to the wall. The stairs were lowered, and Draggah descended, leaving strict orders that the ship was not to be moved. Leonosis wasn’t sure, but he thought he felt a flicker of doubt in the demon’s mind about Queen Ariel.
There were several places to come down off the city’s high walls, and Draggah wanted to be on the streets. He could have seen the fighting more clearly from the sky ship, but he wanted to be near the carnage. He wanted to hear the screams, smell the blood, and see the fear in the eyes of the dying. At some point he would probably even participate in the battle, but so far he was content just to be near it.
“Commander,” Draggah said when he reached the street where his officers were waiting for him. “Let’s begin.”
The king’s solders were well trained. They each carried a round shield, a saber that they could wield with one hand, as well as a short, double-edged dagger that was ideal for stabbing. The soldiers wore leather armor and thickly quilted doublets. Even a razor-sharp sword blow would be hard pressed to slice through the padded doublet and leather armor. Stabbing was more effective, but even then the blow needed considerable force to be mortal. Where the soldiers were vulnerable was along their arms and lower legs. The doublets had no sleeves, and the leather armor had gaps to allow free range of motion. A heavy sword blow could not only break bone, but sever limbs.
Normally the king’s army marched with crossbowmen, but their weapons took too long to reload in open war. They operated best from high, fortified positions where they could take cover while they reloaded their deadly bolts and heaved back the thick string that shot the bolts forward when fired. Draggah had ordered the crossbowmen to stay with the ships. Including casualties from the ships that were shot down, nearly a quarter of his force would not be available to fight in Avondale, but he still had nearly a thousand men. Draggah knew—because he knew everything that Leonosis knew—that the earl’s war band at full strength was less than a thousand. Still, the earl might have raised a militia, arming the citizens. For all Draggah knew, he was outnumbered, but his own power more than made up for any deficits in numbers. And close odds meant more killing, a fact that Draggah reveled in.
Leonosis wanted to somehow warn his father, convince him to surrender or flee, but there was no way to help. He had no control over his own body, no way to fight or even resist Draggah, who was firmly ensconced in Leonosis’ physical form. That meant Leonosis would be a helpless observer, and even worse than merely an observer who could look away or close his eyes, Leonosis would be forced to see everything Draggah saw. And he would feel the demon’s ecstasy while Leo felt only sickness.
The troops marched through the city, killing anyone foolish enough to resist them. The earl’s war band was nowhere in sight, but occasionally someone from the city found a sword or spear and decided to fight. Their lives were taken quickly, and Draggah, marching at the rear of the main column that was working its way around the city’s main avenue, only heard the screams.
There would be more screams Leonosis knew that. Once the fighting was over, the king’s soldiers would loot the city, killing and raping the citizens without fear of consequences. Any normal king would keep his men under control, but Leonosis knew that Draggah would do nothing to stop the innocent from being victimized. He didn’t care that Avondale was one of Valana’s wealthiest cities or that it was the only source of hylum in the kingdom. He would revel in its destruction and then move on to the next.
There were citizens hiding in their homes. Leonosis saw the fearful stares from high windows or the movement of curtains as people tried to avoid being seen. They were no threat, not yet at least, and so of no concern to Draggah. He ordered his troops forward and they continued their trek around the city.
The column of soldiers stopped just shy of the large plaza that led to the massive northern gate of the city. The huge timber walls were burned but not completely destroyed, and the plaza was eerily quiet.
“My liege,” said the commander. “Do you wish us to avoid the open plaza?”
“No,” Draggah said.
“But sire, the men will be exposed. It is the perfect place for an ambush.”
“I am aware,” Draggah said. “But our goal is to exterminate the earl’s war band. We will expose them and destroy them. Killing is your only concern today, Commander. Be about it!”
“Yes, my king,” the man said, frowning.
Leonosis knew that the officer was loath to send his troops into harm’s way, but he would rather risk their lives in combat than risk his own by arguing with Draggah. The commander waved to the other officers, who then quietly ordered the column forward. They marched quickly through the plaza, the space around them opening up, from the relatively narrow street to the broad open space in front of the city’s massive gatehouse. They were three quarters of the way across the plaza when the volley of crossbow bolts slammed into the flank of the leading ranks of men. There were screams of pain and shouts of angry surprise, then another volley, this time from the opposite side, shot out, slaying the soldiers who instinctively had moved to their left, away from the first hail of deadly projectiles. Then came a third volley, this time from the front. Dozens of men lay dead or wounded, and blood was pooling on the plaza’s flagstones.
“Forward!” shouted the commander. “Find them, kill the bastards.”
The king’s soldiers hurried forward, anxious to get across what was now easily recognizable as the killing ground. More bolts shot into the mass of soldiers. Their neat, orderly formation had dissolved as death rained down from the darkened windows and rooftops on the far side of the plaza. It was still early in the day, so long shadows from the city’s massive walls cast many of the buildings and streets in shadows.
As the first survivors reached the far end of the plaza, where the street narrowed between massive homes and shops again, they were met by a group of soldiers. The members of Earl Ageus’ war band hadn’t made a sound but quickly formed a shield wall that sealed off the street. They couldn’t have held back the entire group of the king’s soldiers, but with their crossbowmen picking off the enemy, those that came against them were unorganized and near panic.
Draggah laughed as he watched his own men dying. The screams made Leonosis’ blood curdle, but they only encouraged the demon, who bellowed in delight. It only took a few moments of fear and uncertainty before the massive group of soldiers realized they wanted out of the plaza. A few turned and ran back, deserting their comrades but finding no safety behind. Draggah made an example by levitating the cowards and flinging them over the column and into the Avondale shield wall. The bodies collided with shields, but their momentum bowled the defenders back.
A shouted order sent the crossbowmen retreating, and Leonosis guessed that his father had made sure that his archers had clear lanes of egress and strict orders to retreat before they were cut off by the king’s soldiers. The men in the shield wall fended off a few more brave but foolish soldiers from the king’s army who ran to engage them without proper support. Then they, too, retreated.
“It has begun at last!” Draggah cooed as he walked among the fallen in the plaza, his boots splashing in the puddles of blood like a child. “This blood is the first pen strokes of my great chronology. These lives have been sacrificed to usher in the age of gods!”
The soldiers of the kings army looked at their leader with fearful eyes. The rumors they had heard about the new king were proving true, and they realized that they were being led by a madman. One who cared nothing for their lives, only his insane plans.
For one tremulous moment, Leonosis hoped that the soldiers would turn on him. He didn’t want to die, but he would gladly die to be rid of Draggah and to foil the evil creature’s plans. But then the commander shouted the order to reform the column, and the soldiers responded; the countless hours of intense discipline still held them to the will of their superior officers.
Draggah waved his hand, and the troops moved forward again, marching ahead into a future they couldn’t imagine. If they were lucky, they would die in combat—Leonosis knew that much for certain. If they lived, their world would become his nightmare, and all mankind would suffer at the hands of Draggah.
Chapter 36
Rafe
The king’s soldiers were spreading through the city. Half of the warriors had gone toward the south gate, and half toward the north. The plaza at the north gate had been the location of the first skirmish. Their plans had worked perfectly, up until something had hurled several men into their line.
Rafe had been watching from the palace rooftop, using a telescope to see as much as he could. The fighting in the streets would be impossible to see, since the city was built in a circle around the top of the volcano’s cone, but the open plaza was within sight. Rafe had watched the king’s soldiers walk into the trap he’d set and had even seen several falling from the crossbow attacks. It had been difficult to sit back and watch—he wanted to be in the shield wall, leading his men to victory, but his place now was to coordinate the war band’s efforts across the city, not lead one squad in combat.
“Commander!” said the runner who had been sent to report on the first skirmish.
“Report!” Rafe said, his eye still searching across the city through the telescope.
“The battle at checkpoint one was a success. Three men were injured, but there were no fatalities.”
“Any idea how many they lost?” Rafe asked.
“I counted thirty-three down by our crossbows. Almost a dozen more were killed by the men in the shield wall. Including the three men that fell on our defensive force, I’d say at least forty.”
“Forty down, a thousand more to go. Good job, runner. Get to checkpoint two and keep me informed.”
Rafe began to pace. He knew other battles were taking place. Some of the king’s soldiers had been sent down to the lower levels in an effort to find a way to the palace. Rafe’s men were well positioned and ready to hold them back, but Rafe chafed at being absent as his men fought. He had commanded men before. He was an officer with his own squad, and then a lieutenant, with a dozen squads under his command, but that had been in peace, and his only real duty had been to convey orders from higher up the command chain. He had observed drills on the tall platform when his men were training, and he’d wanted to be in the sweat and dirt with his squad then, too. But that had been training with wooden staves and well observed rules of engagement. This was open warfare, men fighting for their lives and their families. It was close quarters, bloody and vicious, the kind of fighting that makes men or breaks them.
“Commander!” shouted another breathless runner as he stumbled out onto the palace rooftop.
“Report!”
“Battle in the third level near the tannery.”
“The tannery was on the southern side of the city, Rafe thought. That meant that both wings of the king’s forces had reached his own men. He made a decision to leave the palace rooftop. He wouldn’t learn any more by being up there, and it only made his runners sprint up several flights of stairs.
“Walk with me,” Rafe commanded the runner.
“Yes, sir,” the young soldier said. “Our line held well enough, but the king’s solders climbed up onto the roof of some of the shops and flanked our forces.”
“Casualties?”
“One whole squad,” the runner said, his voice suddenly quiet as they descended the grand staircase that led from the palace roof to the earl’s private quarters. “Most of another.”
“Damn! What about their losses?”
“About the same, as far as I could tell. It was hard to see there, and the fighting was fierce.”
“Yes, I have no doubt it was,” Rafe said. He could hear another runner sprinting up the stone steps toward them. “Return to your section.”
“Yes sir!” the runner shouted, before saluting and sprinting away.
The reports came in a steady stream, and the results were consistently the same. In the areas where crossbowmen were positioned to target the enemy, the war band fared much better than the king’s soldiers. Earl Ageus had equipped his soldiers with leather armor, but most of the armor was older than the men who wore it. The war band’s main function was to man the walls and ballistae in times when the monsters from the blighted lands appeared. Armor was sometimes worn during training, but there had been no need to spend money on new armor, so their doublets had rotted; their leather was so old it became brittle. It might be enough to stop a blow from killing, but Rafe needed to keep his men fighting, and a broken bone made that impossible. The wounded were being carried to the training ground, and that space was filling quickly.
The close quarters that Rafe had hoped would give his men an edge was turning out to be just as effective for the king’s soldiers, who were well trained. They fought hard and found weaknesses in the small groups of defenders in their paths. Hours passed, and there were hard-fought battles on three levels of the city and on both sides of the palace. Rafe paced, gave orders, moved his troops to different locations, and took reports, but there was nothing else he could do. By noon, the crossbowmen were returning, which meant there was nowhere left for them to take cover and fire on the enemy. As soon as Rafe saw them, he went back into the palace to make his report.
The earl’s servants were crowded into the feasting hall, along with most of Captain Rowen’s men. The kitchens were cold, and food had been stashed around the palace for the soldiers to eat when they had the opportunity. Rafe went through the feasting hall and made his way to the earl’s primary audience chamber. The long, narrow room was filled with courtiers, mostly women, who looked just as frightened and as helpless as the servants in the feasting hall. The crowd parted so that Rafe could approach the earl.
“It’s time, my lord,” Rafe said.
“Be sure your men do all they can to protect these innocents,” Earl Ageus said.
“Yes, my lord.”
The earl left through the small doorway at the back of the hall behind his reception area. Rafe, along with the twelve guardsmen whose job was to stay with the earl at all times, followed him. They went back up to the rooftop, and Rafe immediately went to the north side of the palace roof. His heart sank a little as he saw crossbowmen approaching. That meant that a full retreat to the palace would soon be called. His men would have to fall back simultaneously to keep the enemy from seizing the opportunity to ambush the defenders as they retreated to the palace.
Rafe turned and saw that Earl Ageus was searching the sky for any sight of Tiberius. Rafe felt a stab of regret for his friend. Rafe didn’t want to die, but that wasn’t why he had hoped Tiberius would return. There had been a bond between Ti and his father, since the young wizard had healed the earl. Now, Rafe worried that Ti’s failure to return and save Avondale would taint the way Earl Ageus viewed his youngest son. Rafe knew that Ti was a man of honor, who would gladly give his life to defend the people he loved. And now Rafe hoped that Tiberius wouldn’t appear. He didn’t want his friend to die with him, and Rafe settled in his heart and mind that death was unavoidable now.
He thought of Olyva, but thinking of her hurt too much. He had vowed to find a way to be with her, but he had known, just as she had, that the odds were against them. She would have to find a way to forgive him, and he would have to forgive himself. He had no time for self-pity.
“We have to ring the gong,” Rafe announced. “Bring our forces back to the palace while we still can.”
“You’re sure we can’t hold out any longer?” the earl asked.
“We’ve done as well as could be hoped for. The palace is our last hope now.”
“Tiberius will return,” the earl said. “He has to.”
“And we want as many men as we can muster ready when he does,” Rafe said. “We must call our forces back.”
“All right,” the earl said. “Ring the gong.”
A huge, brass sheet had been placed on the palace roof. The officers with Rafe had to work together to lift it up and hang it from the tall metal poles that were mounted into the stone rooftop. Once the plate was hung, a large man with a long-handled axe stepped forward. The axe head had been replaced with a wooden knob that was wrapped in thick wool. He swung the mallet hard, smashing it into the gong, which sent a resounding
bong
throughout the city.
“Again!” ordered Rafe, who was leaning out over the rooftop. “Keep ringing it until I give the order to stop.”
The big man didn’t reply; he just swung his mallet again. The sound was ominous and sad. Rafe saw scores of soldiers running back to the palace. The lower levels had already been blocked off. The window shutters were hammered down and reinforced with thick, wooden beams. Soldiers were set to guard each one, as well as the doors used by the servants as they went about their daily tasks. On the main floor, the massive front doors were still open. The retreating soldiers came in and were sent straight up to the roof, where most would be set to guard the entrance or the long causeway that led to the lookout tower and city wall. So far, the king’s soldiers hadn’t utilized the wall to try and flank the defenders, but Rafe knew it was only a matter of time.
The crossbowmen had already been assigned to the various windows and balconies, where they could use their weapons once the the king’s soldiers appeared. The entire retreat took less than fifteen minutes. The last man in the palace was General Saryns, whose men had been holding the streets.
Rafe saw the palace doors close far below him, and for a moment his mind shot back to when Brutas had hung him upside down from the palace roof. A split second of utter terror threatened to wreck Rafe, but he managed to choke the fear back and calm himself down. His heart was thundering as he walked over to the gong.
“You may stop now,” he said.
“Thank goodness,” the earl announced. “I though my head would split open and save my son the trouble.”
It was a weak joke, but the nerves of the soldiers on the rooftop were worn thin. They laughed, and Rafe felt his admiration for the earl rising. His father had loved Earl Ageus, but Rafe had never understood why. Once, when Rafe was just a boy, he’d asked his father why he cared so much for the earl. His father had told him that Ageus had not always been the bitter, resentful man he’d grown into. That made no sense to Rafe at the time, but now he saw it. He could see the man his father had loved and stood by, even died for. Rafe didn’t feel that strongly about Earl Ageus, but he understood a little better the man his father had known.
“So what do we do now?” the earl asked Rafe.
“We wait and see what Leonosis does.”
“His ship hasn’t left the far side of the city.”
“That’s because he isn’t on it,” said Captain Saryns as he made his way between his men to where Rafe stood with the earl. “Lord Leonosis is with his troops.”
“Are you sure?” Rafe asked.
“He looks like he’s dying,” the captain said, wiping sweat off his forehead. “Thin, pale, but very active. He’s using magic against us.”
Rafe felt his stomach drop. Fighting the king’s army was one thing, but fighting a wizard would be impossible. Whoever had blown the city wall down could do the same thing with the earl’s palace and kill them all in one fell swoop.