CHAPTER 6

ANULA

Horns shrieked throughout the city, carving through the cacophony of voices in the tavern.

Anula peered curiously at the windows, her sight limited by the heavy rain and darkness. Seeing nothing, she looked to her father who stood ridged, his smile fading. The tavern’s voices halted, revealing the soft sounds of rain dancing on the roof. More horns blew, answered by others much deeper in the city.

The closest horn repeated three desperate notes, suddenly falling silent, followed by a rumble of thunder. Questioning whispers flowed from the tavern’s occupants, Anula picking up even the faintest.

“Are we under attack?”

“Halvras?”

“King Alris?”

Anula ignored the rise of whispers concluding on the hostile king who attacked more than once over the past years.

A man walked over to the window and peered out. Seeing nothing, he opened the door, wind throwing rain into the tavern and onto the man. He stepped forward and into the night.

“Bakka, pray tell you have your armor still.” Ian said.

“In the cellar.”

“Think it be time, to see if ya still be fittin’.” Thom said adjusting the straps on his loosened armor.

“What about her?” Andre asked. His eyes glanced to Anula.

“There is no time.” Bakka said, seeing a group of armed guards in tight formation through the open door.

“Time enough, to protect you from a blade.” Andre said, pulling tight his leather straps.

“Anula, with me.” Bakka said, turning towards the cellar door.

Bakka unlocked the door, it opened to reveal a black pit. Anula’s eyes adjusted easily to the darkness, revealing the steps and dirt floor below. Bakka spoke up when she reached for a candle.

“No time, come.”

She descended into darkness. Reaching the bottom of the steps, Bakka removed a wool blanket from an iron bar and pulled. Sounds of scraping metal on stone echoed off the walls and soft blue light spilled from hidden crevices.

“Come.” He barked, when Anula noticed the blue crystals.

She kept her eyes on the lights while she followed, but stopped when her father revealed two suits of armor from under a wool cover.

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“What are these?” Anula asked. Her hand reached out. As her finger drew near, the light pulsed. Her father forced a woolen tunic into her hand.

“Put this on.” He said, ignoring her words.

Anula removed her leathers and pulled the wool shirt over her tunic. “Now this.” Anula was greeted with a metal breastplate with vinelike filagree around its edges. “And these.”

Anula failed to keep up as he continued to place metal pieces at her feet. Bakka systematically strapped metal to his body once the pile was completed. Anula watched, and copied his actions until they were covered in metal armor.

“Turn.”

Anula turned. Straps were pulled tight until the armor hugged her figure.

“Arms up.” More straps were pulled and adjusted. “Rotate your arms.”

“Bakka… You better fit your old ass in that armor a bit quicker.” Ian shouted from the bar, his voice echoing down the stairs.

“Crouch.” Bakka responded to Anula, his voice precise and commanding. “Where does it pinch or hinder?”

Anula did as he said, pointing to places along her shoulder and thigh.

“Again.”

A minute passed and the armor fit as snug and comfortable as heavy, cold metal could.

“Pull the straps till I say stop.” Bakka said.

He turned, Anula doing as he said, following his exact instructions. Shrugging his shoulders and moving his arms and legs oddly he nodded.

“It will have to do.”

“Bakka… time is running short.” Ian’s voice sounded from the stone walls.

Anula looked back to the crystals as her father opened more chests.

“What are these?” Anula asked again, while he reveled three swords wrapped in oiled leather.

“Gifts from your mother.” He said, handing her a sword. Anula admired the blade, and puzzled over his words. Was he referring to the sword or the crystals?

“Shield.”

Anula stretched out an arm and Bakka adjusted the leather to fit firmly on it.

“Bakka….” Ian voiced his impatience.

“Its time.” Bakka said. “Move.”

Anula jogged up the stairs, the sound of metal on stone silenced, by heavy steps on wood as they rose from darkness.

The Foaming Horn, empty of patrons, sat only blocks from Lasteel’s north gate. Anula stood beside her father and looked out into the night. Screams of fear, pain and death came from the walls of the city, while a symphony of horns came from their rear. Horses galloped and guards marched towards the northern wall, while others limped and stumbled to the south. Anula watched a man collapse into the mud, holding his blood-soaked leathers. She stepped forward to help, but a strong hand held her firm.

“His life has reached its end.” Bakka stated coldly.

“We must help.”

“We will do, what can be done.”

Anula opened her mouth in retort, but was cut short. Thom stepped forward and removed his helmet, Ian and Andre at his side.

“General Bakka.”

“Just Bakka.” He said looking over his friends.

“We pledged our life to you; we call you what we wish, General Bakka.” Ian said, his voice icy, all previous humor wiped clear.

Before her father could respond, all three spoke in unison, their gauntlets hitting their armored chests. “Our blades are yours.”

Anula frowned at the men, then back to her father who stood tall. His eyes were hard, his face serious. The air between them changed.

“Stay behind us. Do not break rank.” Bakka said, his cold eyes locking on hers. She could only nod in response to his new aurora of command.

“Ian, on my left, Thom, my right.” Bakka locked eyes with Andre, his emotionless voice sending chills down her back. “Your blood before hers.”

“On my word.” Andre stepped to the side, a large metal hand gripping Anula’s shoulder.

“Stay in my shadow. Regardless the situation. Run, if I fall.”

Anula stood, unsure of her response.

“Say it back woman!”

Anula looked from Andre to her father, who surveyed her without emotion.

“Stay in your shadow, and run if you fall.” Anula said when she looked back to Andre.

Andre glared, searching her eyes for weakness.

“We move.”

Her father stepped forward without another word, his companions in his wake, Anula tight to Andre’s back.