Afraid to even blink, Edana watched her daughter and her soldiers fight for their lives.
To try to deny them any artillery advantage and to reduce the supporting fire pouring down from the wall of the Third Terrace, Thorgoth’s troops had closed to melee.
This was where the impromptu fortification erected by the mages came into play. The V-shaped created a deadly crossfire that prevented attackers from charging right into the centre. This meant that the Alavari were focused on trying to take the ends of the V, attempting to fill the ditch and get over the walls.
Yet, this attack did not prevent fire entirely. From her position at the V’s tip, Frances could fire on the two angles of attack. As she fired from behind the wall, while also surrounded by a bubble of magic that deflected musket shots, Frances continued to send lightning bolts at the Alavari. Beside her, musketeers popped up to deliver shots, whilst pikemen and fighters behind the wall fought tooth and limb to keep the Alavari from breaking in.
They were holding, but Edana could see the continuous tide of soldiers. Skipping cannonballs and more musket fire cut down Alavari as they tried to reach their comrades assaulting her daughter’s position. She glanced up. The dragons were still circling high overhead. They were quite wisely, leery of diving onto the rearguard due to its proximity to the walls. They were however, the least of Edana’s concerns.
Thorgoth and his Royal Guard were marching toward the rearguard. They’d taken some time to regroup after Morgan blasted them. Edana could see their flags inching closer to the road to the gatehouse, and the evacuation of the terrace was not complete.
There were still soldiers clambering up ladders, harpies lifting wounded on stretchers up to the walls and an endless stream of Alavari and humans racing through the gate.
She turned to her set of mirrors on her desk and focused on one of them. Queen Forowena and King Jerome behind her came into view. They were in a dimly lit room, probably one of the city’s many bunkers.
“Forowena, I need to go out. We still have a few thousand troops that need to evacuate and Thorgoth’s Royal Guard are advancing.”
The queen grimaced. “Edana, I have a plan and reserves to commit. You can provide supporting fire, but you are not to go down there.”
“Not to go down—” Edana let out a sigh. “Alright, nothing on the plan?”
“I’m afraid not, but you’ll know it when you see it.” Forowena smiled. “Trust me, Edana. I want to get Frances out of there as much as you do.”
“I know you do. I’m just worried.” The Grandmaster of the White Order paused. The queen was shooting the king a glance. He was murmuring something under his breath, which made her sigh. She didn’t speak, though, and instead the pair linked their arms, which Edana realised, were clad in armour.
“Thank you for everything, Edana,” said Forowena. Beside her, mouth almost hidden by the guard of his helmet, Jerome flashed a smile.
A chill ran up Edana’s back. “Your Majesties, what exactly do you have planned? There are no reserves that can reach Frances and her soldiers, not through the gate in any case. In any case, they’ll have a full view of any attack we launch out of the gate.”
“Sorry, Edana. Can’t tell you.” Jerome winked and before Edana could get in a word edgewise, the mirror call ended.
“What—” seeing Sebastian run into the room, Edana scrambled to her feet. “Sebastian, where’s Forowena and Jerome?”
The King of Lapanteria’s face was already pale but his pallor grew even more sickly as he took in Edana’s words.
“I was going to ask you the same thing! They’re in none of the command centres!” he exclaimed.
“Then where are the Erisdalian Royal Guard and Forowena’s personal knights? Like Sir Severus?” Edana demanded.
“They were deployed—Oh.” Sebastian staggered, one hand reaching out to steady himself against the wall. “Oh no. That’s their plan.”
“What plan?” Edana hissed.
Sebastian took a deep breath and groaned. “What did they tell you?”
“That I needed to get to the walls. Sebastian, stop prevaricating—”
“Then get there. There’s no stopping them now,” said Sebastian. “I’ll explain on our way.”
***
Forowena put her mirror down and brushed a lock of sweat-matted hair from her eyes. “You think they realised it yet?”
“Yes, but they can’t stop us now,” said Jerome. He reached over to the table where his wife’s helmet and gauntlet had been placed. With great gentleness, the king helped her put them on. “Don’t feel bad about lying to them.”
Forowena bowed her head. “I…I just wish I could have talked to my friends honestly before this.”
“But they wouldn’t have let us do this,” said the king.
Forowena sighed, squeezing her husband’s hand tight. “And are you sure we are doing the right thing, Jerome?”
“Yes. We, our friends, need just a little more time. Only we can buy it,” said Jerome.
“In that case, we should let them know.” Forowena tapped the hand mirror and imagined two more figures.
Titania and Antigones appeared in a dark place, lit by lanterns. They seemed to have been discussing something at a makeshift wooden table with several other Alavari.
“King Jerome, Queen Forowena. What’s the—” Titania’s eyes widened imperceptibly. “Oh, it’s come to this?”
“Is it so obvious?” Jerome asked.
“In any case, yes. We even have a chance of taking Thorgoth out, and if we don’t, we can at least severely reduce his Royal Guards.”
Antigones, holding his beard so it wouldn’t just fall onto the table, dipped his head and placed his arm across his chest. In a sonorous voice, full of solemn dignity, the orc general spoke:
“Bless you, valiant and indomitable King and Queen of Erisdale. May the memory of your story live forever in the minds of both human and Alavari. May songs and sagas of thee be sung until the embers of the last campfire die.”
Erisdale’s King and Queen had bowed to the old general as he’d imparted those words to them. Raising their crowned heads, they met their counterparts with clear eyes.
Forowena had a question, though.
“How many?” she asked. There was a hesitant fragility to her voice and the queen seemed to brace herself.
Titania wiped her eyes and grinned. The Queen of Alavaria answered the Queen of Erisdale’s question. In a moment, Jerome and Forowena’s expressions cycled from shock, to relief that brought tears to their faces, before finally settling on satisfied grins.
“That’ll be enough,” said Jerome.
Whitey cackled, the crown’s voice filling the room. “More than enough. Good hunting, Your Majesties.”
“Good hunting.” Forowena ended the call and with Jerome, they walked to their waiting soldiers.
***
Leaning against the wall, Frances finished the last of the potion in her flask before hooking it back onto her pouch. She counted a new dent in the metal, though she couldn’t be sure. It was so scuffed from years of fighting.
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The Alavari had pulled back, giving the defenders a brief respite, but Frances knew that the longer they held, the closer the Royal Guard would come. She couldn’t see yet. The street ran down at a slight incline until it met the main road that ran lengthwise along the Second Terrace.
The Alavari had retreated behind the left corner of this intersection, which ran down toward the gatehouse of the First Terrace. If one turned right on the road, they’d follow it until it quickly ran into some ancient granaries that were built into the cavern walls. That was a less than ideal position to hide from the view from the gatehouse, and so she could see the Alavari scouts peaking around only the left corner.
“Frances, you need to get out,” said Aloudin. The troll was nursing a cut on his arm from a piece of shrapnel with a wad of dressing, and yet his eyes remained clear and sharp.
Frances tried to speak, but found her lips somehow still dry. Coughing, she croaked. “We need more time.”
“We’ve bought enough and while I know you can’t die, you’re also one of our only chances to defeat Thorgoth. You need to leave,” Aloudin said.
“The troops are still here,” said Frances.
The troll grabbed her shoulder, his voice low and pitched up with pain. “And you’re in no shape to defend them against a full Royal Guard assault. I trained with them. I fought with them. They’re going to attack and we’re not going to be able to hold. You need to get out.”
“She’s right, miss. You need to leave,” said a man in Lightning Battalion colors. Others nodded, even those in Lapanterian uniforms, for whom she had no connection to. Frances swallowed, blinking back tears as the gunpowder-stained, bloodsoaked veterans that she’d fought alongside stared at her with the same eyes. A look for the dead and yet they seemed filled with life at the same time.
Stumbling to her feet, Frances saluted. “Thank you—” she blinked, not from tears. A group of very heavily armed soldiers had exited the houses that lined the road leading up to the gatehouse. Each of these humans were heavily armoured and armed, with crimson hauberks trimmed with gold. “Wait, who—”
A one-armed man in dirt-stained white robes led this group. As he approached, he waved his hand, which held a wand. “Frances, get your soldiers out of here!”
“Ulric? What are you doing here?”
“Go! We’ll hold them off for you. That’s an order from King Jerome and Queen Forowena!” Ulric snapped.
Aloudin blinked. “But—”
Ulric waved his wand, dragging the troll onto his feet. “Dammit you both. Get going! The queen has a contingency plan and she’s putting it into action. Just trust us!” Ulric gestured behind him as more soldiers filed out of the houses.
“Those are the Erisdalian Royal Guard—What exactly is the Queen planning?” Frances stammered.
“Yes! They were in reserve to cover our retreat just in this situation. Come on. Get going! We’ll hold up better than you lot,” said Ulric.
Frances couldn’t argue with that. Nodding, she started barking orders for the Lightning Battalion and the remaining defenders to rotate out. Taking their wounded, the exhausted soldiers left, leaving the Royal Guard to take up their position.
“We had those hiding places built there from the start?” Frances mused as they made their way back up the road toward the far smaller crowd still pushing towards the gatehouse. “Did you know this, Aloudin?”
The troll captain shook his head. “I’m afraid not. The Erisdalians dug that section. Must be related to the Queen’s contingency plan.”
Frances looked back. The armies were moving again, having seen the fresh reinforcements. “I don’t know if so few troops can hold though. You go on, I’ll—”
Aloudin frowned. “Frances. We have our orders.”
“Something doesn’t feel right. How can that be the backup plan?” she asked, gesturing to the thin armoured line holding the trench and wall. “They’ll be—Hold on.” Reaching into her pouch, Frances fished out her vibrating mirror and opened it.
“Forowena? Where are you?” Frances asked.
“Hiding!” hissed the queen. Her face barely seen in the dim light, Forowena glanced over her shoulder. “Frances, you need to get back to the command bunker. Thorgoth’s sent assassins to kill me and King Jerome.”
“Shit. I’ll be right there, hold on.” She shut her mirror. “Aloudin, I need to go!”
“I heard. Hurry!” the captain hissed, giving Frances a shove to get her going. Despite her aching feet, Frances barrelled up the road. As she reached the mass of retreating soldiers, she funnelled the last of her magic into a spell that Ayax had taught her. With one big step, she leapt, crying out a note.
The magic-propelled jump took her flying up toward the landing before the gatehouse. Still singing, directing her jump mid-air, she soared toward the gatehouse. She was heading for the battlements, but to Frances’s dismay she realized she was going to slam into them rather than going over them.
Before she could cast another spell, Edana raced out of the gatehouse building. Waving Poker, Frances’s mother seized her and yanked her back onto firm ground.
“Mom! Queen Forowena just called me, there are assassins going for her and King Jerome in the command bunker!”
Her mother’s eyebrows knit together before she shook her head slowly. “Frances, Jerome and Forowena have disappeared, along with most of the Royal Guard. I can’t even find their personal mage, um, Savarus?”
“Severus—wait, but she just called me. She…” The boom of cannon whipped Frances’s head around. The battle had resumed. Thorgoth’s army had deployed across the road, firing muskets at the defenders to keep their heads down. After a final volley, the Alavari let out a cry and charged.
The defenders rose to fire back. Frances raised Ivy’s Sting. “Shit! Ulric’s down there!”
“Ulric? What is he—” Edana shook her head “—Nothing for it. Frances, help me!” Raising Poker, Edana started summoning a huge fireball. Meanwhile, Frances started firing spells at the mass of enemies.
The tide didn’t stop and behind these Alavari were those clad in grey-purple hauberks. It was harder to make the design out from this distance, but Frances recalled from Timur that these striped uniforms were enchanted for durability and could even absorb magic to some extent.
And then there was Forowena’s message.
“Mom, I need to go find Forowena—”
“Frances, you don’t understand! I just got off from a call with the command bunker. It’s fine! It’s just that the King and Queen are missing!” Edana released her fireball with a hiss. Blinking as the heat against her cheeks faded, Frances watched the fireball slam and scatter the enemies charging Ulric’s position.
The blow to the column scattered the formation. Screaming Alavari burned, whilst others fell back, regrouping in front of the Alavari Royal Guard. Frances saw one try to run through the guard, but was forced forward at swordpoint.
Thus the attack continued, Royal Guard forcing the surviving Alavari forward. Their king was not far behind them. Frances could see him rounding the corner with a knot of Royal Guardsmen and soldiers, alongside a female ogre with five pistols in her bandolier. More soldiers marched toward the trench, dying to the pikes of the defenders, or musket fire, or to Frances and Edana’s spells.
“They keep coming,” Frances stammered. Gripping onto the battlement, she forced herself to remain standing. Looking over the wall, she could see there were fewer allied soldiers outside, but they still were making their way up the ramp. “They’re not going to hold for much longer. Mom, do you have anything to deal with that attack?”
Edana scowled, eyes narrowed at the king in the distance. “I do, but if Thorgoth pulls out something insane I need to be ready and you almost have nothing left.”
“Mom we may not—Wait, what’s that?” Frances could hear a sound swelling above the cannon fire. It sounded at first like a call blown by the wind, but unlike Athelda-Aoun, there was not a lot of that in this cavern. Straining her ears, she identified the pealing blare of a horn. No, not a horn, but many horns. Cornets, bugles and older horns intermingled to form a rising chorus that grew and grew.
She could see at the thin line, the defenders redoubling their efforts. The Alavari in contrast, or at least those who weren’t immediately fighting, stood agog, trying to find the source of the sound.
It was at that moment that Frances suddenly knew. She just knew.
“Mom, how many are in the Erisdalian Royal Guard?”
“Two brigades. Around two and a half-thousand—Oh no.”
Tears running down her dust-stained cheeks, Frances steadied herself against the battlements as she allowed herself a sob.
“Damn it.” Frances wiped her eyes and raised her wand. “Keep firing, they’re going to need our support.”
Edana nodded. “There’s nothing else we can do, isn’t there?” she croaked.
“I don’t think so.” Frances swallowed and began to charge her lightning spell.
As she sang, her banshee’s wail rising higher and higher, she watched Jerome and Forowena’s trap unfold.
The doors of the warehouses in the “dead-end” of the road swung open. Horns still blowing, a wall of cavalry hundred out with crimson standards held high. These flew the united insignia of King Jerome and Queen Forowena’s houses, a grey-colored hawk flying by a sky-blue falcon.
These knights and cuirassiers, in heavy plate, wielding carbines and pistols halted for a brief moment, arranging into a perfect wedge formation. Their swords, sabres and poleaxes clinking gently against the polished barding of their horses.
At the tip of the wedge, the King and the Queen, instantly identifiable from their crowned helmets. King Jerome was piping a trumpet himself.
The Alavari were turning. Frances could see pikemen and musketeers forming a new line, trying to reorganize to repel the charge. The female ogre general was holding one of her pistols aloft and brandishing it to get her soldiers ready.
But it was too late and the calvary were far, far too close. The crescendo of horns suddenly blasted all at once into a deafening roar. King Jerome threw the instrument aside, slammed his visor shut and touched his heels to his spurs.
The Erisdalian Royal Guard thundered forward, their king and queen at the head, charging right towards the flank of the Alavari army and making their way for the uncharacteristically shock-still King Thorgoth.
Even as bolts of magic spat toward the tip of the Erisdalian wedge, bright yellow magic, which Frances recognized as Captain Severus’s, covered the royal couple in a shield. The horsemen in the front rank drew their pistols and carbines.
Frances let loose her bolt of lightning. In spite of her exhaustion, her aim was true and the brilliant flash of plasma slammed into the mass of Alavari right before the tip of the wedge. Right after that, the whole line of horsemen discharged their pistols with a thunderous crack, sending hundreds of Alavari reeling and many trying to flee, right before the cavalry slammed home.
She could see Alavari go flying, the army being trampled underneath the sheer weight of the Erisdalian charge. Clumps of Alavari Royal Guard seemed to resist, but they seemed caught up in the rout. This was not helped by supporting artillery and mage fire from Edana who continued to slam fireball after fireball into Thorgoth’s shield, keeping the king occupied.
Frances fired as well, sending lightning bolt after lightning bolt toward the king and the generals and guards surrounding him. Her throat now raw from the effort, bright spots appearing in her vision, she continued to cast.
For she knew that there was no retreat available for the King and Queen of Erisdale.
***