XXXIII. …AND A SLOW SURRENDER

  Laelianus wrung his gloves as he stood atop the battlement of the central tower. Below him his archers let loose volley upon volley of arrows into the approaching horde. The army seemed to appear out of nowhere, using the passing blizzard as a screen. Then there was the shooting star, too convenient to be a mere coincidence, it left a massive crater and sent shockwaves that crumbled walls that stood for millennia as if they were made of sand. Truly, their tactician was either a genius or a madman.

  His nobles were slow to mobilize, those who did not flee immediately after the star fell. Soldiers ran around with no orders, allowing the army to get uncomfortably close to what remained of the city walls. After a thirty-minute skirmish, his armies were forced to retreat back into the city. If Laelianus had not arrived to take control of the situation when he did, the city would have been lost already. Now his archers fought a losing battle against the vanguard of giant creatures he had only read about as a child, something called Jotun. It seems that the mindless beasts were the ones leading the attack, consisting of Jotun, the faceless, armed reptiles and skeletal warriors in rusted mail.

  The main force of what appeared to be humans waited just out of the archer’s range. There was no fear of them breaching the inner walls however; their crude methods and reliance on brute force were easily thwarted. Ladders were repelled as quickly as they were raised and the behemoths that assaulted the gates with fist and club were dispatched of with a well-placed volley of arrows. Unfortunately, he was stuck on the defensive; this first wave would be a battle of endurance. Laelianus wrung his glove as he thought of his officer’s incompetence. Even though the enemy methods were unorthodox and the combatants monsters, there was no excuse for the city’s defense to crumble as easily as it had.

  “It is surreal to see such creatures walk among us.” Lord Nemedial, the arrogant fool that bludered his way to the front lines only to issue three consecutive retreats, stroked his beard as if he had said something profound. “I thought they were the thing of fantasy and old wives’ tales.”

  “And I thought these armies were well trained and its commanders competent Lord Nemedial.” Laelianus gestured to the fleeing soldiers on the streets below. “How is it that our forces have been reduced to such a pitiful stance so early in the game?”

  “I…I… I have no excuse my King.” Lord Nemedial bowed and he dropped to one knee.

  “Cease your prostration Clarence.” The lord remained on his knee much to Laelianus’ ire. “Rise fool. I don’t need politics and senseless pomp, I need ground!”

  The lord hastily rose to his feet and dusted himself off. “And ground you shall have your majesty--.”

  Laelianus held up his hand for silence. “Do not prattle on with empty promises. Let your actions speak for you. You have till noon to have three battalions outside these walls ready to mount a counter offensive.”

  “I understand my king, but I must--!”

  “You must follow my orders. I shall not tolerate repeated failure. Go about this in a level headed manner, blind haste will accomplish nothing but unnecessary loss of life. You may go.”

  Nemedial bowed and made a hasty exit. Laelianus doubted the man would deliver the results desired, but it was the underlying threat that would spur the man out of his complacency. The task was not impossible, the enemy had focused the brunt of their attacks on a single point, by taking some of the side streets, they could easily cut off the enemy in a pincer and halt their advance down the main thoroughfare. Hopefully he would convey the same sense of urgency to his troops and cause the enemy to rethink their tactics. Battle was a game fought in the mind of the commanders. Those on the ground were merely a means to an end. Once one understands this then the battle has already been won, Laelianus lived by this ideology, that of the intellectual warrior ethos.

  A squad of giant men standing over two stories tall crawled over a wall separating two districts and made a slow methodical march towards the king’s position. Their armor was sparse and made up of a patchwork of different leathers and furs. Their weapons were clubs and axes made up of giant hunks of poorly wrought pig iron. They effortlessly crushed those soldiers brave enough to stand against them. Laelianus swore and summoned a nearby archer and directed him to the new threat. The archer recoiled in surprise, swallowed and raced off to rally his fellow soldiers.

  The commander of the battalion blanched as he braced himself on the walls. “What madness hath brought about such monsters?”

  Laelianus spat and put on his gloves. “It seems our mothers were right.”

  “My king?”

  Laelianus grinned as the beast was pelted by a hail of arrows. “Didn’t your mother tell you that the monsters would eat naughty boys and girls who disobeyed or didn’t eat their vegetables Commander?”

  The commander swallowed hard as the giant flew into a frenzy. “Forgive me your majesty, but now is hardly the time for—”

  “If not now, when?” Laelianus gestured to the creatures on the streets. “My city is infested by this scum, a city that has stood impregnable for a thousand years or more. Perhaps it is a blessing of sorts. Our arrogance has allowed us to go soft, a failure you shall rectify.”

  “Of course your majesty.” The commander flagged down a subordinate. “Rally the men, we push these things back from the gate and secure the district.”

  Laelianus grabbed the man by the shoulder, halting him. “Do not let haste blind you, or drive you to blunder,” He pointed to the beast as it fell to one knee under the arrow assault, “Observe your enemy first, eventually, all of his secrets will be laid to bare.”

  The giant roared and collapsed into a building, only for a dozen or so lizardmen to crawl over his corpse and flee down alleyways and into buildings. The giants, while possessing great strength in their own right, were mere distractions.

  “See what I mean? Roaches always scurry in the light, be the torch, commander.”

  The commander nodded and went to issue his orders as more creatures continued to pound upon his gate. The heavy steel that barred porticus began to bend inward under their might. Though it would be sometime before it was destroyed by stress or fatigue, it was inevitable they would try a new tactic.

   Laelianus glanced over his shoulder in irritation, he had sent for Siegrun over an hour ago, surely she should be here by now to shed some insight on fighting these demons. That is why she was sent here after all. Laelianus turned his attention to a young soldier mounting the stairs behind him. The young man appeared to have run here all the way from the palace, half-kneeling, half-collapsing at Laelianus’ feet.

  “My liege, I… bear ill news…”

  “Out with it then.” Laelianus spat, irritated at another distraction and bearer of bad news.

  The man seemed slightly unnerved by his king’s calm, unconcerned attitude, hesitating momentarily. “The palace has come under siege. We know not how or how many, but the palace is in a general state of disarray.”

  Laelianus smirked and turned his attention to the hills that his palace sat atop. “And all of our forces are amassed at the perimeter defense. So there is a mind behind this after all…”

  “Your majesty? Shall I alert one of the lords?”

  “No… that is what they are counting on. Go to the missions; rouse that fool Aichlan’s militia. No doubt he already has and goes about with the counter offensive.”

  “Yes my king.” The soldier rendered a salute and took off with the same haste as when he arrived.

  “Hmph. So you have won this small victory Aichlan, but do not let it let it swell your ego too much. I shall not allow it to happen again…” Laelianus stroked his unshaven face, grimacing at the roughness of a day’s growth as he turned his attentions back to the battle below.

* * *

  Aichlan pounded on the door to Alice’s quarters as several armed servants ran past. Ashe shifted anxiously as the sounds of carnage grew closer. It was hard for Aichlan to attribute all this mayhem to just one woman. He pounded on the door again, this time met by a very angry and still tired Alice. She glanced from Séverin to Aichlan, Maleah and Ashe confused as to their presence at such an early hour. Clarissa waved sheepishly as Alice rubbed the sleep from her bloodshot eyes.

  “What the bloody hell are you all doing pounding on my door at such a light forsaken hour?” she asked groggily, killing intent in her tone.

  “Aichlan’s been silenced and I do believe we’ve come under attack.” Clarissa calmly explained as she stepped inside. “We figured dzat would be something in your area of expertise.”

  “By all means come in…” Alice replied sarcastically after the group filtered in.

  Alice had somehow managed to get the one of the princess suites, it had twelve foot high vaulted ceilings with elegantly hand crafted furniture in ocean themes and colors. The room was bright and alive in various shades of soft and deep blues with ornately carved ivory to mimic waves and sea foam. The bathroom might as well have been a spa and the walk in closet could service as a decent sized room if needed. The bed was ten feet long and almost twice as wide with four pillars, and a canopy with sheer curtains of silk that wrapped around.

  “Aichlan, why would anyone silence you?” Alice poured water into and touched the fire symbol on a metal urn, starting the percolation cycle on the coffee therein.

   “Some witch attacked from the garden, we haven’t the time for dawdling!” Ashe snapped, much to Alice’s surprise.

  “Alright then Aichlan, come here then.” Alice beckoned him with a nod as she pinned up her hair.

  She examined Aichlan’s throat and drew a dull grey rune upon his neck. Black choke marks appeared over his larynx as Alice muttered an incantation, obviously perplexed by the fact that Aichlan was in fact silenced by a powerful hex. The rune exhaled wispy tendrils of grey smoke as the urn bubbled behind them. It revealed several stitches upon Aichlan’s lips as well as the marks upon his throat.

  “Well now, this certainly is unprecedented. You are in fact silenced, by a person who hates you a great deal.”

  “How so?” Ashe rushed to Aichlan’s side, more concerned than before.

If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  “It's black magic, of that much I am certain. It is also layered, I’ve never seen anything like it before, for this type of spell you would have had to sit through a somewhat lengthy ritual, but given your rash nature I doubt that was the case.”

  Aichlan rolled his eyes as Alice went about pouring herself a cup of freshly brewed coffee. “Most silence spells are time sensitive, lasting hours or days. But curses…”

  Alice pondered this conundrum as she stirred in the cream and sugar. “Curses can last years, or even a lifetime. And they are much more difficult to remove.”

  “Can you do it?”

  Alice smiled weakly in an attempt to ease Ashe’s worry. “I can do nothing for him, but fortunately I have several black mages in my employ.”

  “Your employ?” Ashe asked, equally horrified by the news of a curse and confused by Alice’s boast of having staff.

  “Yes, the mages I found, surely I mentioned this.”

  Eth crashed through the door, landing in a heap of smashed wood and table. Aichlan reached for his sword, only to remember that it was not where it should be. Maleah stood and took up a defensive stance still unsure of what exactly was going on. She briefly looked to a cup she held and debated what to do with it, eventually deciding to discard the mug of water after taking a hesitant chug.

  Eth rose from his resting place and tossed Aichlan his sword, a massive bleeding gash upon his chest and abdomen. Clarissa gasped as she rushed to his side.

  “What happened?” She shrieked, glowing with the power of The Dawn as she laid hands upon Eth.

  “Blighter took a bite oota me…”

  Morana strolled into the room, bringing with her winter’s frost and a malevolent aura as a black fog billowed on the floor around her. She snapped her fingers and a javelin of ice shot up beneath Maleah, she was barely able to leap back out of the way with a startled curse.

  Aichlan drew his blade and charged flinging his scabbard across the room. He slashed as Morana searched for another target. She effortlessly glided out of the way and Aichlan skidded on the ice. He slammed into the wall and dropped to his knees as she blasted him with a gust of smoke and crackling black lightning.

  Morana levitated Aichlan and flung him into a desk, finishing by impaling him with ice shards. Eth shot several balls of fire at her, which she enveloped in a black void of smoke and lightning, removing them from their plane of existence. Alice drew three lightning glyphs and spoke her incantations. Morana shot her a look of pure hatred and loathing, her eyes flashed red and the symbols Alice created evaporated. Alice stood trembling at both the act and malevolence Morana emitted.

  “Little girl, you have not even been permitted a title, how is it that you are audacious enough to challenge me? And with elementals no less?” Morana waved her hand, sending Alice crashing through the wall into the bathroom four meters away. “Have they stopped teaching magical hierarchies and dark magic defense at the academy?”

  Maleah charged her lance charms rattled as bone chimes in the wind. Morana flung several orbs of black energy at her attacker, they morphed into arrows midair as Maleah continued her charge, unable to stop or change direction at so close a range. Much to both women’s surprise, the orbs disintegrated upon impact. Taking advantage of the confusion, Maleah stabbed Morana in the stomach with her lance.

  Morana gasped in horror as she clutched the wound, her blood seeped through her fingers. Paradoxically, a smile crept across the witches face as she pulled herself forward, burying the lance deeper into her stomach.

  “Don’t just stand there like an idiot.” Morana shuddered, a disconcerting look of pleasure upon her face. “Finish me off!”

  Maleah attempted to wrench her weapon free, only for morana to clamp down on her wrists with an icy, dead grip. A booming voice like a thunderclap and earthquake in one rattled the room. The language was incomprehensible, yet somehow explicitly evil. Aichlan covered his ears as Clarissa and Ashe cried out, the booming voice like the cackle of hyenas and a dragon's roar, shattered glass and rattled their very bones. The meaning of the voice was not clear, but it caused all color and humor to instantly drain from the witches face. Morana shoved Maleah back, removed the weapon from her abdomen, and disappeared in an explosion of smoke and sparks.

  “What… the hell was that?” Maleah angrily wiped the blood from her hands on her coat.

  “Clarissa, see Alice…” Séverin cautiously looked over his sister. “Are you alright?”

  Maleah nodded slowly, massaging the frostbitten flesh where the witch had grabbed her. “What the hell was that noise?”

  “Get the General and Ashe to The Missions and rouse the rest of the army, you shall find Alice’s mages there as well.”

  “How do you know all of this?”

  “Maleah, just go.” Séverin snapped as he tended to Eth.

  Eth swatted Séverin away as he tried to stand. “I’m fine! ‘Tis just a scratch.”

  “Aye, a scratch that spills yer entrails. Jus’ sit an’ wait fer Clarissa Eth; I doubt that woman will return with so grievous a wound.”

  Eth begrudgingly accepted Ashe’s argument. He sat upon a pile of pillows and allowed Séverin to compress his wound with a sheet. Clarissa had been able to mend a great deal of the wound before Morana’s appearance, but it was by no means a ‘scratch’. While his bleeding could be staunched, Alice was another story. Her slight frame had been sent through a wall of timber and tile, it would be a miracle if she still lived. Only Clarissa’s silence hinted at the young woman’s survival.

  Aichlan motioned for Maleah and Ashe to follow as he took off down the hall towards the exit. Despite Morana’s disappearance, the sounds of turmoil remained as glass was shattered on the levels below. Maleah made her way to the front of the group; she snatched up a fallen noble’s sword and slung her lance over her opposite shoulder.

  “D’ye know ‘ow ta use that?” Ashe asked, seeming to read Aichlan’s mind yet again.

  “I can use it enough, Séverin’s been teaching me, says I need a side arm cuz a lance is unwieldy in close quarters or when dismounted. I disagree but it’s worth a try.”

  “I daen’t think now is the proper time to be trying new things…”

  Maleah ignored Ashe’s comment as she bounded down the first flight of stairs. Despite taking a spell full on, she was miraculously unharmed and seemingly unfazed. Aichlan had felt the effects of that woman’s magic, he still burned and froze in some places, and his limbs remained stiff from his petrification. How was it that she was able to shrug off such an attack so easily?

  Maleah swung her newly acquired sword, slashing a fiend across its throat. It collapsed in a pool of its viscous blue blood as its breath escaped its fanged jaw. Maleah looked up in confusion as those beasts were not supposed to be so far into the city. If they had breached the palace, the situation could be far grimmer than first expected. They stepped over the still twitching corpse as they continued towards the palace entrance.

  “Perhaps that woman brought them with her, like those eel things she had writhing about earlier.”

  Aichlan was only able to nod; he had considered the same thing. The only problem with Ashe’s theory was that they should have vanished when Morana fled. The ‘eels’ had indeed ceased their rampage, yet the sounds of slaughter and battle continued. That woman had done many things outside of the magical conventions, it was likely she could have summoned these creatures in a way that their life was not reliant upon her own.

  Maleah suddenly halted, causing Ashe to crash into her. “Who else is staying in the palace from our camp?”

  Ashe shrugged and looked to Aichlan, who of course couldn’t answer either of them. Madden and Taryn had been sharing a suite with Odell, having found their quarters in the missions unsuitable, or perhaps for a chance to taste the lifestyle of the rich and famous. Of course, there was also Aislyn who was no doubt in the Royal wing of the palace with Laelianus. Donough and Enyo had rooms on the same floor as Eth and Aichlan, though he had seen neither when he encountered Eth. Then there was Rowena and Órfhlaith, though it was likely Órfhlaith had chosen to bed elsewhere. Aichlan wondered how it was that so many of his officers had gained rooms in the palace when it was said that only colonels and above were supposed to reside here for the duration of their stay.

  “Donough and Enyo can handle themselves; the huntress should be in the missions with the rest of the army… that leaves Órfhlaith and the young forest girl. Am I forgetting anyone Aichlan?”

  Aichlan hurriedly motioned for them to continue, equally frustrated by his lack of a voice and the circumstances he had been thrust into. Every member of his military could fend for themselves if need be, and several of the monks of The Order were proficient in offensive magic. Aside from that, everyone knew to reunite with their respective units to mount a defense or egress should it be necessary. Now was such a time and haste was of the essence.

* * *

  Laelianus walked amidst his soldiers as they tended to wounds in their makeshift barricades in the abandoned homes and shops near the now demolished gate. Nemedial had failed, rushing a charge when noon approached. Laelianus entered his command post, a repurposed inn near the second redundant barricade he had the foresight to erect as soon as the army was pushed back to the wall. The battle had turned into a fighting retreat, his army made to look like incompetent buffoons and untrained brigands.

  Nemedial looked up from a map of the city on a great oak table, his face ashen and dripping sweat despite the winter air around them. His peers nervously stepped away from the table as Laelianus approached. Nemedial stood at attention, his forehead shined under the swinging lantern light. Laelianus silently looked over the map, several barricades had been breached and his forces were rapidly thinning.

  “Your majesty I--”

  Laelianus held up his hand to silence the man. “Clarence, prostrate yourself before me.”

  Nemedial immediately rushed to Laelianus’ feet and kneeled as a humble beggar, shaking as sobs wracked his body. Laelianus sneered in disgust at the man, and kicked him hard in the ribs. Nemedial managed to stifle his outcry as he righted himself once more. Laelianus spat on the man and drew his bejeweled sword, his officers cringed and looked away in shock and fear.

  “I gave you a timeline to right your incompetence; I would have been far more forgiving should you have failed yet held the line at the walls. Instead you chose to blunder into the horde and now my city runs afoul with these abominations. But that is not your most grievous mistake, no. Your greatest transgression was making my army look like bumbling oafs and me by association.”

  Laelianus planted his sword in the base of the man’s neck, severing his spinal cord and piercing the base of his brain. He shoved the blade through to the floor and held it there until the involuntary reflexes and gurgling ceased. He withdrew it, taking a handkerchief one of the officers handed to him to wipe off the blood. Laelianus discarded the stained rag on Nemedial’s corpse and sheathed his sword.

  “Somebody dispose of this, refuse. You, Master Corbusier yes?”

  The young man stiffened, swallowing hard before nodding. “Yes your majesty.”

  “Find Siegrun; have her brought to me immediately.”

  “Right away my king.”

  “And find that blight Aichlan’s men, I want my palace intact and free of these pests by sundown.”

  “And the efforts here my liege?”

  Laelianus turned to smile at one of the former king’s advisors. “Earl Rembrandt, how, expected. The failure has been addressed Rembrandt, save your lecture for one who hasn’t been graced by your words six dozen times already.”

  “Your dry humor is refreshing as always my king.”

  Laelianus frowned as he regarded the war table, not so much at the dismal state of his forces but at the prospect of having to deal with the Earl. “Why are you here?”

  “Why my king, there is a war--!”

  “Enough games!” Laelianus slammed his fist on the table, knocking over several figurines. “I don’t need lectures I need a strategy to right, this abortion!”

  Rembrandt carefully set the figures back in the rightful places. “We need to retreat to the Gojira mountains. Somehow we have been caught in a pincer as it were.”

  “Squeezing us right onto the frozen Silver Lake, have you not considered that this may all be a well-planned trap?”

  “A kingdom is nothing without its citizens.” Rembrandt replied, sage like.

  “Who commands the troops now that Clarence has met his timely end?” Laelianus grumbled after staring down the Earl for several moments.

  “I am your majesty,” a young man stepped forward, tears welled in his eyes and he bore the look of rage boiling beneath the surface. “I am his son…”

  Laelianus stood in silence as he sucked on his cheek and absently looked over troop placement. “…find someone else; I doubt he could have taught you much good. Xavier, I’ll leave this to you.”

  Laelianus took his cape from a servant and made his exit. The nobles stood in stunned silence, unsure if they should comfort the young man on his recent loss or ignore the situation altogether. Rembrandt smirked and shook his head in amusement as he followed the king out of the war room.

  Rembrandt opened the door, shielding his eyes to the bright afternoon light. Laelianus briefly turned to look at him before turning his attention back to the chaos below. The bells rang wildly as soldiers fled madly through the streets past breached barricades and abandoned posts. The last of the city's defenses had fallen, the army had descended into anarchy and any commander would be hard pressed to regain control. Though Laelianus was loath to admit that an Aes Sidhean general was their last remaining hope, it seemed to be the case.