Guardians of Magessa (The Birthright Chronicles Book 1) (19 page)

“Duck!” Vladimir hissed and dropped behind
the barricade. Timothy and Senndra followed suit and saw that, along the length
of the barrier, the other defenders were doing the same. The sound of bow
strings snapping was heard, and a barrage of deadly sharp arrows flew at the
barricade. Most of them passed harmlessly over the top or buried themselves in
the barrier, but out of the corner of her eye, Senndra saw one smash through
the wall and impale Timothy’s right shoulder. Timothy was flung to the ground,
where he writhed in pain and grabbed at his shoulder. His actions induced more
pain, and he desisted. Vladimir crawled over to him and began to examine the
arrow.

From down the barricade, the call to fire
was given, and Senndra jumped to her feet and took aim. The dwarf archers had
fired their loaded bolts and were now desperately trying to reload in time to
fire on the defending archers. Arrows rained down on the dwarves, and they
began to drop; however, the impact was minimal. For every dwarf that fell, at
least ten were unharmed and hurried to reload their crossbows. Before Senndra
could get another arrow on her bow string, the dwarves fired. She ducked,
barely escaping death. She glanced over at her friends and saw that Vladimir
had succeeded in getting the arrow out of Timothy’s shoulder, and they were in
the process of bandaging it. Senndra peeked over the wall and saw that the
dwarf infantry was again charging toward the defenders. She and several hundred
other archers rose to their feet and sent a swarm of arrows at the enemy. The
dwarves’ progress halted as if they had hit a wall, and in seconds they were
scrambling back out of range of the enemy archers. Again the dwarf archers
fired and again Senndra ducked behind the barricade just in time. By this time,
Timothy’s shoulder was bandaged, and he had his sword gripped in his left hand.
Vladimir turned back to Senndra and mouthed something to her that she could not
determine, so she shrugged and turned to look over the barricade. This time,
unlike the previously unorganized attempts, the dwarves were advancing in an
orderly fashion, with the infantry in front and crossbow men behind them. The
defending archers rose from behind the barricade and fired again. This time,
however, most of their arrows hit the infantry and didn’t even penetrate to the
archers. In response, the dwarf archers rained a hail of crossbow bolts on the
defenders, wreaking havoc among their ranks. Senndra dropped behind the wall
and crawled to where Timothy and Vladimir sat with their backs against the
barricade.

“They’re advancing again,” she said.
“They’re taking it nice and slow, but even so, I would say they’ll be here in
less than a minute.” She turned to Timothy. “Perhaps you should get back behind
the next barricade before they reach us.”

“And perhaps you should consider what you
just said,” Timothy retorted. “The enemy has archers, so anyone that leaves
cover will be shot down in no time. Besides,” he added with a grin, “I placed
first in the sword-play contest at the academy. I think I can kill a few of
these brutes—even if it is left-handed.”

“As you wish,” Senndra said. She pulled
the sword on her back from its sheath and laid it across her knees. Her fingers
traced the blade from hilt to tip and back. Unlike many swords of its era, it
had no runes or sketches on it, but was composed entirely of unmarked silver.
Even in the brief time that she had used it, she had succeeded in giving it
several notches and hundreds of scratches. Again she remembered how her father
had wielded the very same sword without shrinking from his duty, even in the
face of death, and her resolve was strengthened. Under no circumstance would
she fail him. She would stand and fight to the death.

She gripped the hilt of the sword with
both hands and held it so that the point extended in front of her.

“Get ready,” Vladimir called over his
shoulder. “They’re coming. And when they get here, it is not going to be
pretty.”

“Of course not,” Timothy said grimly.
“Everyone knows that dwarves are ugly.”

Senndra snorted at the attempt at humor
and then allowed herself to relax. Even as she curled her feet underneath her
body, she released the tension in her muscles and allowed her nerves to relax.
At a shout from Vladimir, she jumped to her feet and spun around, her sword
ready to kill. The first dwarf seemed surprised at her sudden appearance, and
she dispatched him before he could even attempt to defend himself. The next
dwarf had time to think before he reached her and attacked with his ax
swinging. Senndra found the feeble attempt funny and laughed as she hopped
lightly over the blow and stabbed her sword into the enemy. The dwarves
attacked on every side, trying to breach the barrier. But all along the wall,
the defenders were determined to hold back the attack. For almost a quarter of
an hour, the fighting continued without either side gaining the advantage. In
an instant, however, the dwarves found the hole they needed. Several hundred
yards from Senndra, a defender fell at the hands of a dwarf, and there was no
one to take his place. Instantly, the dwarves pushed through the opening and
swarmed along the barricade, killing the unsuspecting defenders.

“Heads up!” Senndra yelled to her
companions. Her cry saved dozens of cadets to her left and right as they looked
up and saw the dwarves had breached the defending line. The defenders began to
gather into circles, with soldiers facing out from all sides. As the dwarves
surged forward, they were hindered by these knots of resistance. With one last
swipe that took a dwarf’s head off, Senndra jumped off the wall and hurried to
take her place in a circle.

“Fall back!” The order was issued from the
south, behind the next barricade.

“You heard the man,” Senndra yelled at
those around her. “Let’s move that way,” and she gestured to the south. “I’ll
stay to cover your retreat.” She absorbed herself in attacking the dwarves,
slashing and stabbing at them if they got within her range. Beside her, she
could sense two cadets that she knew would be Vladimir and Timothy. Together
the three friends did their best to hold back the tide of attackers, but there
were too many dwarves. They pushed around the small group, forcing them to
change their formation into a circle. But even as they did so, an explosion
rocked the city off to the east. It was followed shortly by another to the
west, which was much closer than the first. The blasts threw the enemy into
disarray. Dwarves scattered everywhere, trying to get away from the detonation
areas. Another explosion shook the city, this time less than a hundred yards to
the east. Dwarves were thrown in all directions, raining bodies and gear down
on those below. Senndra raised her arm to shield herself from the falling
debris, but she took a blow to the head from the shaft of an ax. She sank to
the ground, and all she could see were stars. She tried to pull herself from
her stupor but was unable to do so. She didn’t hear Timothy saying that the
explosions would cover their retreat, and neither he nor Vladimir noticed that
she did not follow them to the next barricade. Instead, she slumped to the
ground with her head on her hands. The last thing she remembered was the
reality that the warm sticky fluid all over her face was blood. Then she
blacked out.

Lemin saw Timothy and Vladimir coming
toward the barricade. He could not tell through the dust thrown up by the
recent explosions whether or not Senndra was with them, but he had a bad
feeling. An eastern wind blew a cloud of dust across the battlefield, obscuring
his view entirely. But when Timothy and Vladimir burst out of the cloud, he
instantly realized that Senndra was not there. Timothy and Vladimir covered the
last hundred feet to the barricade and leaped over it. They slumped against it
and tried to catch their breath from the sprint they had just made. Lemin
quickly made his way over to them and knelt down beside them.

“What happened to Senndra?” he asked with
urgency in his voice.

“What do you mean?” Vladimir asked with a
gasp. “She was right behind us, wasn’t she?”

“No she wasn’t,” Lemin said. “I didn’t see
any sign of her. But you’re saying that as far as you know, she’s still out
there alive?”

“As far as I know,” Timothy said.

“Then I’m going out after her,” Lemin said
and stood to his feet.

“I’ll come with you,” Timothy said and
rose unsteadily to his feet.

“You’re too tired to keep up with me,”
Lemin said. “Even if you could, you would be more of a liability than a help
with that shoulder wound. You stay here and get some rest. That’s an order.”

Lemin turned and bounded over the
barricade and made his way into the smoke. As he ran, he drew his sword and
held it out in an aggressive position. He couldn’t see anything through the
dust in the air, and he hoped that he wasn’t going in circles. He staggered
through the cloud for several minutes, trying to find his way out, and when he
did, it was so sudden that he was not prepared for it. One second he was in the
cloud and the next he was through it and in the open air. He threw a quick
glance in both directions looking for Senndra, but so many bodies dotted the
ground that he doubted he would be able to spot her from a distance. Without a
moment’s hesitation, he started running, keeping an eye on the bodies on the
ground, but also keeping watch for any hostile troops. Ahead he could see a
group of dwarves surrounding a body, and he quickened his stride. The dwarves
would not waste time on a dead body, which meant the one that held their
attention was clearly alive. Lemin had a feeling it was the person he was
seeking. His pace increased to a sprint, and he covered the last dozen yards in
less than a second. With a thunderous roar, he leaped through the air and
landed in the middle of the dwarves. His sword swung hard, decapitating two
dwarves and forcing the others to back up. With a quick glance, he saw that he
was greatly outnumbered, facing as many as twenty enemies. A sideways look
confirmed that this was Senndra; the dragon pendant that he had given to her
earlier had come loose and was lying on her chest.

Lemin suddenly felt as though he was being
drawn out of himself and that he was watching from a distance. He felt a
presence that he had not felt for years begin to seep into his consciousness.
He did not push it away as he normally did, but allowed it to remain and grow.
For how long this continued, he could never remember, but as it spread, images
of his past began to flash through his mind. He saw himself as a young man at
the temple of Elohim beginning his training as a magician. He was struggling to
raise a small stone, but in a moment years had passed and he was effortlessly
making the stones disappear and reappear. Next, he was commissioned into a
secret organization that was composed entirely of magicians. Then the ogres
attacked, and he tried to cover his face, but nothing could blot out the sight
that had caused him to turn his back on Elohim. He and the group of magicians
under his command were surprised by hostile ogres in a narrow canyon. He was
running down the rocky canyon, trying to escape the death that was behind him.
He tripped and rolled down a small hill, then jumped back to his feet and was
running again. He was safe now and made his way back to the site of the ambush.
There was no sign of the ogres; the only bodies in sight were those of his
companions. There was no sign of life in any of the bodies; all of them were
dead, with gaping wounds. Pictures of his dead companions flashed past his eyes
in succession, each more hideous than the last.

Such was the sight that had caused Lemin
to turn from Elohim. He did not understand how He could let such atrocities
happen if He was indeed an all-powerful God. Why would he let so many
magicians, all in His service, be ambushed and killed? Lemin had had no answers
when the event had occurred, and he had none now; however, he had seen enough
since then to know that Elohim had a purpose for everything, even something as
awful as he had been through. Until this point, Lemin had been unwilling to
accept this reality, but now he believed it without reservation. As he thought
about it, it was the slaughter of his men that had caused him to take a
teaching job at the academy of Belvárd where he had been able to mentor many of
the country’s best warriors, including Senndra, Timothy, and Vladimir. Lemin
knew that Senndra was destined for great things, but Timothy and Vladimir were
different altogether. They were trying to keep their respective secrets, but
Lemin had guessed what they were from the first days that he had seen them. It
was hard to hide secrets from a magician, even if he was out of practice in the
arts.

“If I wish for them to be able to
accomplish great things,”
Lemin
thought to himself,
“I’ll have to keep them alive long enough for that to
happen. With the help of Elohim, I'll make sure that happens, even if it means
my death.”

Lemin felt himself being pulled back into
his body and glanced around to see what had happened in his absence. Nothing
seemed different, and the dwarves appeared as Lemin had last seen them. Lemin
pushed the thoughts from his mind as the first dwarf attacked. He blocked the
blow and slashed back, but the dwarf danced just out of his reach. Lemin’s mind
was now aware of the magic lacing the city in an intricate pattern. As he kept
the dwarves at bay, he began to work out a way to defeat them. With his mind he
began to pull magic together into an invisible fist-sized ball. Though the
pattern was rather simple and took him the lesser part of a second to
construct, its effects were incredible. At detonation, it created a blast of
energy that threw the surrounding dwarves several yards; he could hear the
snapping of bones as they landed. Using the time he had just bought, he pulled
the pendant from around Senndra’s neck and put it around his own, tucking it
into his shirt and out of the way.

Lemin was slightly winded from the use of
magic, but that did not decrease his exhilaration. The last time he had used
magic had been more than a decade ago, and he had expected to not be very
proficient in his use of it now; however, the effects of his spell put new
courage into his soul. He stooped to pick up Senndra and straightened again,
ready to run back to the barricade. As he turned, however, a hidden dwarf let loose
an arrow at him. He scrambled to put together a spell that would block the
missile, but he was too slow and succeeded only in slowing down the arrow so
that it bounced off the armor on his back. The razor-sharp edge of the weapon
bounced sideways and slid across his arm, slicing through his leather armor and
cutting him to the bone. Lemin roared in pain, but he knew that locating the
dwarf and killing him would be a bad idea. Instead, he turned and headed south
and back to safety.

He was depending on the dust that covered
the battle field to mask his retreat, but it was already beginning to settle.
He increased his pace to a dead sprint, and the ground flew beneath his feet.
His arm began to throb, but it would have to wait until he had reached safety.
The distance between him and the barricade steadily decreased, but it was still
too far for him to assume that he was going to make it. The dust blew from the
field, and Lemin could now see the defenders crouched behind the wall, all with
their bows trained on him. Before he had a chance to react, the call to fire
was given, and a multitude of arrows flew toward him. He scrambled to gather
the magic that surrounded him to construct a shield. Were he not out of
practice, the task would have been laughably easy, but in his current state,
there was just not enough time. As he tried to weave the pattern with magic,
the arrows closed in on him, and he ducked to try to dodge them. They didn’t
hit him, but they didn’t pass over him either. He glanced up hesitantly and a
puzzling sight met his eyes. The arrows were suspended in the air above his
head, and as he watched, they fell to the ground. Lemin knew that he hadn’t had
time to weave the spell necessary to protect himself, and he wondered what had
just happened. He didn’t take the time to think about it too much now, however,
and with Senndra in his arms, he sprinted the last hundred yards to the
barricade. Apparently, the defenders had determined that he was an ally because
they did not fire on him again. When he reached the barricade, he passed
Senndra's motionless body to Timothy and Vladimir then climbed over it himself.
He dropped onto the other side and stooped to catch his breath.

“She’s not seriously hurt," Timothy
said after examining Senndra. “She's got a nasty gash on her forehead, but the
bleeding has almost stopped.”

Lemin looked up and saw Timothy staring at
Senndra intently. His hands were traveling up and down her body without
touching her. This, coupled with the fact that Timothy’s shoulder was as good
as new, led Lemin to believe that his deduction about the boy had been correct.
But there was just no time to address the issue now.

“Take her to the rear of the army and give
her time to recover,” he ordered Timothy. As Timothy left, Lemin turned to
Vladimir. “Go get Commander Pondran and tell him to meet me here. I need to
speak with him.”

Vladimir hurried off to do Lemin’s
bidding, and Lemin turned his focus to his wounds. The worst one was the gash
on his arm from the arrow, and it was taken care of with a relatively simple
spell. The thing that he needed most now was rest to allow his body to
recuperate. He sat down and leaned against a barrel so that he could look
across the barrier at the enemy. The dust had cleared almost completely,
allowing a view straight to the opposing army. The dwarves had recovered from
the explosions and were regrouping for another charge on the barricade that the
defenders now hid behind. Despite the heavy casualties that the defending army
had inflicted, there appeared to be just as many dwarves as when the battle had
started.

Lemin glanced to the south and saw that
only two more barricades stood between the south wall of the city and the enemy
army. He looked up at the sky and noticed for the first time that the rain that
had stopped, though he didn't know when that had happened.  The clouds had
passed and from the position of the sun, he estimated that there were perhaps
two hours until midday.
“Two hours until reinforcements arrive,”
he
thought to himself.
“If we can hold out that long, we might have a chance of
surviving.”
He slid his sword from its scabbard and laid it across his
knees. Next he turned his mind to remembering the patterns of various spells
that might come in handy in the coming battle. As he recalled, destruction
spells, such as the one that he had used when rescuing Senndra, were very
physically draining; however, spells that did not take very much energy could
be just as lethal. If, for instance, a spell was used to trip an enemy, that
enemy could then be killed more easily. In the same way, relatively little
energy was used to drain a specific area of air, rendering the soldiers there
unconscious. If used effectively, magic often did not kill enemies, but it
changed the environment to render them helpless. Lemin turned to remembering
how various simple spells could be used to a great effect. He concentrated on
this until Vladimir returned.

“Here is Commander Pondran,” Vladimir
said. “You wouldn’t believe the time I had trying to…”

“Thank you, Vladimir,” Lemin responded,
cutting him off. “And now you can turn around and watch the enemy so that we
will have warning when they decide to attack.” He switched his attention to
Josiah. “A brilliant kid, but he can ramble on sometimes. Now, what I wanted to
talk to you about, as you have probably guessed, is our situation. Here’s the
deal; we have only two barriers left between us and the south wall of the city
and around two hours before we’re supposed to get reinforcements. We’ve already
given up seven barriers in three hours, so we need to make these last ones
count. The problem is that the barriers cover the length of the entire city,
and when the dwarves breach one point, they can attack our backs. We don’t have
enough men to defend the entire barrier, so we need to change our strategy. Who
is the highest-ranking officer? Actually, who’s in charge here?”

“Last I heard, General Uriah is still
alive,” Josiah said, “so that puts him in command. Technically, the grand
admiral is in charge, but he leaves the running of the army up to the general.”

“In that case, I need to talk to Uriah,”
Lemin said. “Tell him that the highest-ranking officer from the academy of
Belvárd wishes to speak to him before the dwarves put together another attack.
If he wants to keep me waiting, tell him that I outrank him; I’m an admiral.”

“Yes sir, right away sir.” Josiah said. He
moved away and motioned for one of his officers to join him. After a brief
discussion, the officer took off down the wall, and Josiah rejoined Lemin.