Cantante Lamentationem
Urbis Ardenae Nostrae
Justinius arrived at the command tent as the horns sounded around him and men rushed about in full gear. When he pushed aside the flap, he found only a single man packing items into a chest. Justinius stopped and looked about in alarm. “Where are the consuls?”
The man looked up in surprise. “Who needs to know?”
“I am Horatius Honerius’s son. Now tell me where they have gone.”
The man snapped to attention. “Sir. Consul Rufus Ambitious is directing an attack on the northern gate. Your father is on the southwest hill to survey the battle from across the lake.”
“Southwest hill?”
“I don't know, sir. That is all I heard as they departed.”
Justinius nodded in annoyance. “Southwest you say? I suppose if I follow the lake I will eventually find him.”
***
Lumina could hear the first sounds of the horn as sunlight filtered through the door and windows of the temple of the Divine. Incense swirled around her as she rose from her prostrate position on the floor and turned to look out the door at the rising sun. She gasped. “It’s day?”
She had come to the temple that night to pray to the Cause. Her heart sank to see the temple in such disarray upon her arrival. The temple walls had crude drawings and wine stains across them. Messages were carved into the stone in corners and, on the high altar where the offerings should have been, was half-eaten food, suspicious stains, and lewd items. Blasphemous offerings to a being that deserved only the respect and love of his children. A priest entered behind her and she had turned to him. “What have they done?”
“The Order of Change. They thought it was amusing to abuse the temple and those who served in it.”
Lumina noticed the scratches on the man's face and the bruise on his bald head. “What happened?”
“The king offered them the garden and temple mount for their ceremony. They came swarming in before we could protest like they were ready for this exact moment. They attacked the priests within. But then…their leader, some sort of priest, came in. He wore an elaborate gold mask and was dressed finely. He walked up to the altar and said…he cursed the Cause as fallen. Said his people had abandoned him and he should make way for his creations to become gods in his place. Then he…defiled the altar. Others did too, throwing garbage, refuse, and…themselves on it.”
Lumina was frozen in fury, staring at the altar of the Cause, defiled by the member of Change. She put a hand on the priest's shoulder. “I’m sorry, kohan. I would pray here for his guidance and atone.”
“You do not need to,” he said. “It is hardly fit for anyone to be in.”
“It is his house. That is enough for me.”
She had sat in prayer on the floor, finding the cleanest cushion she could, before nodding off at some point. Now, the sun was rising high and the sounds of the starting battle filled the air followed by the cries of men, women, and children. “I must go, kohan. Take care!”
“Cause be with you, sister,” said the priest as she ran out the door and down the mountain's garden path.
***
Orin stood on the ramparts on the south wall, watching the siege machines crawl forward toward the city. Aquillan soldiers followed in their wake and beside them, shields raised as they cowered behind them in their advance. Orin turned to the South Fort bordering the gate on its side and overlooking the bay. His men were ready. “Give the signal,” he told the trumpeter.
The man raised the horn to his lips and gave three short blasts. The men on the fort walls rose and began to volley stones, arrows, and javelins onto the attackers. From his position by the gate, he watched as Aquillan soldiers turned and covered their heads. Men shrieked in agony or simply crumpled without a sound. Orin turned to his men. “Volley! Volley!”
His men rose from their crouched positions and fired at the now exposed flanks of many Aquillans. Their soldiers were struck in the side and their entire left flank caved. Men crawled and scrambled away in panic. Others backed away as they continued to cover themselves. A siege tower caught fire and began to billow with dark smoke. Orin picked up his bow and aimed carefully at a soldier calling orders to his men. Orin squinted down the shaft and fired as the man’s shield dipped just a bit. The man swayed, an arrow lodged through the eye, and he collapsed. Orin nodded in grim satisfaction. Better to keep the mass confused and disoriented.
***
Cassius felt the pressure mounting in his chest as his breath came in quicker, adrenaline-filled gasps. He had arrived at the Aquillan camp with his troops several days ago and had, by some form of luck, been assigned with his men to the cohort led by the consul Rufus Ambitious. Whether good or bad luck was yet to be seen. Rufus was barely his age but charismatic and proud. He stood at the head of his troops, ready to lead them into battle when the time came. His shield and chainmail gleamed in the morning sunlight and the horsehair on his helmet crest shifted in the sea breeze.
Cassius had never seen the sea. The Great Expanse was as massive as the stories had said, an endless horizon of water that confused the eyes and mind. It was a pity that, instead of standing on its shores, he stood on an outcrop by the north bridge into the city, ready to go into battle. Their forces stood at attention, or as best they could on the rocky ground of the peninsula that jutted out to form the bay of Lake Copiah. This single bridge was the only way across and, though wide, looked far too narrow to give a proper assault to the high city walls.
A horn sounded and Rufus drew his sword, raising it high. “Let all men be witnesses, Carxandria will no longer plague Aquilla from this day on!”
The men cheered and it spread through the crowd like wildfire. They shouted obscenities and boasts, boosting their morale for what was to come. A young man next to Cassius let out a half-hearted yell, his face pale and sweaty. Cassius was still trying to breathe properly, his chainmail and helmet feeling heavier than they had been in years. How could he be weaker? A creak of timber sounded and a rock from a nearby onager sailed over his head, startling him. He crouched and was jeered at by nearby men from Rufus’s group. He shook his head angrily and stood tall. He would not be seen as a coward today. Not ever. A true Aquillan, especially a Sollicius, showed no fear.
More onager missiles flew over him but he refused to cower. The projectiles hit the walls and gate, causing chunks of stone blocks to shatter and fall and the gate to buckle with each blow. The defenders above the gate fled from the wall tops in confusion and fear as they were pummeled with boulders. The Aquillan soldiers cheered and this time, Cassius joined them, raising his sword and yelling out in triumphant, nervous excitement. They were already fleeing. The battle would be over soon.
***
Beneath the city, in the dark sewers below, the ground shook and dust showered down onto the occupants of the Order of Change. The room was packed with people, some were members while others were family and friends they had pulled with them. Pathetic weaknesses that would be tolerated for now. The high priest's golden mask turned upward to the ceiling then he raised his arms. “Fear not! The Lord of Change brings his promise unto the city. Soon the old order will be gone and we will emerge to a new world. Block the entrance. Petition your lord. He will give you what you desire.”
He turned to the many armed statues, staring up into its stern face. “Praise the Lord of Change!”
“For progress is made through him!” yelled the crowd, cowering as another boom echoed from above.
The high priest turned to the beast-like man beside him. “Belus, are you prepared for your mission?”
“I am, lord.”
“And remember, it is essential. Only one death is needed. Keep low and stay hidden until the time is right. Do not return if you fail.”
“It will be done,” responded the creature, saliva already dripping in anticipation.
***
Damianus hurried to the walltop where Orin was still firing his bow. Javelins whistled back over the wall but the lack of any archers was a weakness in the Aquillan army. If the Aquillans got close for a fight, if they breached the walls, his forces would stand no chance. “Orin! Orin!”
Orin looked down at his brother crouching below the parapet and joined him. “What?”
“This is madness! We won’t win this fight. As soon as they reach the walls they will break over us!”
“Then we retreat into the city. We fight on rooftops, in canals, from the sewers below. We make them bleed every step of the way.”
Damianus looked at this brother, at the wild look in his eyes and the bloodlust written in his sneer, and he felt his blood run cold. Colder than the thought of death. “Would you kill so many for vengeance? Would you sacrifice every citizen's life for this? We cannot win, brother! We should call for a surrender before it's too late! If they breach the city, they will pillage, rape, and murder!”
“And that is why we shall make them pay!” snarled Orin, standing up to launch another arrow and diving back down again. “Your words are of no more use, my diplomatic brother. Now help me defend these walls or stay out of my way!”
***
The sun was soaring high above by the time Justinius found the hill he was looking for. A party of officers in plumed helmets and senators stood on top of it, surrounding a table that was headed by his father, Horatius, and with Corbenus behind him. He looked up on occasion from the map to the actual city and he would point. Runners went up and down the hill frequently, giving orders from their consul to the troops.
“Father,” said Justinius simply. “Have they surrendered?”
“They will not surrender till we break their walls,” he said. “If we should find the king on the acropolis, we can force the surrender. That is Rufus’s job.”
“We should burn it!” shouted Alexus Dignius, dressed in old battle armor that was too small for his bulk. “They deserve nothing more! Let this city be a stain no more on Aquilla and the wor-”
“Shut up, you,” said Tullus Ultimius, a harsh senator by nature. “We already decided against it.”
“How long do you expect this to take?” asked Catonus Conditius.
“And how many men will we lose to do so?” asked Justinius quietly.
Corbenus turned to glare at him, hissing, “It's not your place to speak.”
“Yet the man has a point,” said the senator Aggripus Campestrius. “We do not have the men to spare for a prolonged, bloody conflict.”
“If we break into the walls and reach the acropolis, then not long,” said Horatius.
“Father,” murmured Justinius. “They aren’t going to…kill people on the acropolis, are they? It's a place of sanctuary. Lumina could be up there.”
“Be quiet, boy!” shouted Alexus Diginius. “I have seen many battles. People die in the tumult all the time. The more the better I s-”
“I told you to shut up,” said Tullus, angrily.
“Look, father,” said Corbenus, pointing across the lake. “The north wall is crumbling. They will be inside and take the acropolis soon.”
“Then it will end,” said Justinius, hopeful.
“Not if they can’t get past the northern fort,” said Catonus forlornly.
“Fort?” asked Justinius, peering to the north but finding it difficult to see much through the smoke.
“They will slaughter many of our men before we can break through,” said Alexus. “But you would see them spared, even after spilling more Aquillan blood.”
“We are invading their home,” said Horatius, “I would expect nothing less.”
“Though we all know you would cower if we ever faced the same challenge,” scoffed Tullus. “First to murder the weak, first to surrender to the strong, eh?”
“You insolent-”
“Enough,” said Horatius. “If you would argue, take it to the city. Corbenus, have them send word to hammer the southern wall without remorse. If we distract them with constant barrages, then they will crumble and be forced to pull men from the northern fort to protect their less defensive southern flank. Tell them to obliterate the southern fort if they must.”
“Yes Father,” said Corbenus and he departed hastily down the hill to find the nearest messenger.
“That will make rebuilding difficult,” said Catonus.
“Rebuild?!” sputtered Alexus.
“As I have said, let us hope Rufus can push through the fort and reach the acropolis then,” said Horatius. “Then we may be spared needless destruction.”
Justinius turned to stare at his father who was looking over the city. His face was unlike anything he had seen in his father before. There was grim determination there but in it was also an unmistakable sadness. “Father?” asked Justinius in a whisper, moving close to him.
His father turned his gaze upon him and saw the question in his face. “It is nothing. But any man who has wisdom should be wary of destroying a city. In its flames, he will see his own city's destruction as well. Someday. In some distant future. Or perhaps not so distant…”
His father trailed off and spoke his private thoughts no more.
***
Lumina ran up the acropolis stairs followed by many merchants and city officials. The crowd of people packed the treacherous stairs which, though wide and sturdy, had no rails and several areas with sheer cliffs. She pushed through the crowd, hoping that, when she reached the top, her siblings would still be well. She was nearly pushed over the edge and she clung to a statue for balance. She nimbly leaped onto the plinth holding it and stopped to catch her breath, surveying the scene around her. Fires were started on the south side of the city and people were running away from the north and south ends. They would converge on the center before long and the stairs would be even more heavily congested. A thrill of fear came over her. Her family wasn’t safe up here. There had to be somewhere else they could go.
She continued up the stairs and pushed through the rapidly crowding courtyard to the living spaces at the back. Yet, when she reached the small bedroom they had been living in for the past month, she found no one. Her family had vanished.
***
Cassius jogged forward with the cohort of men under Rufus Ambitius, sword drawn, as they headed into the city. They had clambered over the ruined wall and gate to enter Carxandria and met no resistance, only the bodies of the fallen. Now, as they walked the streets, they reached the canal crossing the opening to Lake Copiah and the Great Expanse. The bridge was a massive stone structure, stretched high above the water to allow boats beneath and wide enough to allow twelve men to stand side by side. Statues dotted the railing of the bridge, strong men and beautiful women in graceful or powerful positions, faces stern yet welcoming. Cassius was almost unnerved by them but, as he stared at one's face, his vision moved past it. A fort rose on the opposite bank by the Great Expanse and, on its walls, men were rising as one with bows raised. “Shields!” yelled Cassius and Rufus echoed him as he spotted the danger.
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Cassius raised his shield and felt it buckle as two arrows struck it. Men around him who hadn’t been quick enough fell silently or screamed in pain. The pale young man beside him gurgled and slumped against him, almost knocking him over. Cassius had to let him fall or risk losing his shield. The young man lay at his feet, pawing at an arrow lodged in his neck. Cassius felt a thrill of horror as the light left the man’s eyes and he forced himself to look away.
The charge had ground to a halt as the men huddled together, raising shields and grouping around their consul. Cassius glanced back up at the fort walls high above and saw the choke hold they held on the street ahead. There was no way for them to move forward without being pelted the entire way from the fort. Cassius pushed through the men to Rufus.
“Sir, we can’t get through without taking the fort!”
“I know! Hells! We can’t afford this delay!” He turned to another soldier. “Rally the men. Call two more cohorts forward, we are going to rush the fort!”
The soldier blew several blasts on his horn and Cassius felt his heart beating even quicker, faster than it ever had in his life. “Defensive positions!” yelled Rufus. “To the gate and wait for the reinforcements! Then we show them true Aquillan steel!”
Cassius followed the men and felt the occasional thud of an arrow on his shield. He suppressed a shudder. Perhaps it would be better if an arrow wounded him here and now. He shook his head and dispelled the cowardly thought. If he was to charge into hellfire, then he would. For his nation.
***
Damianus ducked and coughed as more dust filled the air. Another wave of boulders flung by the onagers struck the parapet and the defenders cowered in fear. He rubbed his eyes and peered around, looking for his brother through the smoke and dust. Orin was on a higher parapet, still firing his bow and instructing men. Damianus ran in a crouch toward his brother. Orin had just grabbed a man and was yelling to him, “Tell them to hold as long as they can! They need to hold out the longest before we pull back!”
“But sir, the Aquillans are marshaling several cohorts to assault the fort! They won’t be able to ho-”
“Then they hold on as long as possible!” yelled Orin, shoving the man away. “Now pull the men back to reinforce the center street at the baths! The rooftops will be perfect for an ambush!”
“Brother!” called Damianus, choking as more dust flew into the air from a crumbling section of wall. “You cannot stay here! The wall is getting weak and won’t hold! You need to retreat now!”
“Not yet!” yelled Orin. “We need to hold them here longer to give the defenses time to prepare!”
“You won’t-”
“Get down!”
Damianus was cut off as Orin pulled him down. A boulder flew through the air and clipped the top of the wall behind him. The men cowering behind the ramparts were either crushed or sent flying off the wall screaming. One fell into Damianus, clutching his completely dislocated arm. Damianus felt the wall shudder beneath them and he gazed down at his hands which had blood on them. He then felt his head and realized he had a cut across the side of it. Orin pulled him up. “Damianus! Get up!”
“Orin, we need to surrender,” said Damianus, staring from the blood on his hands to the man weeping and holding his arm which was turned backward. The bodies were everywhere. A boulder flew overhead and sailed into the city, crashing into the poorer houses of the work district and caving a roof in. Bodies floated in the canal below the wall, bobbing as another boulder struck the surface.. The fort around them was burning. His city was burning.
He spun on Orin who had been speaking. Not a word he had said penetrated the roar in his ears. “Orin, we need to release the king and surrender. We can’t win! Our people-”
“Will fight till the end!” yelled Orin. “I’ll be damned if Aquilla takes us as their slaves! They won’t have our city as theirs!”
“You fool!” yelled Damianus. “They didn’t want to kill us! We could have surrendered but your pride has cost us thousands of lives!”
Orin spun on him, shocked for only a moment, before roughly pulling him to his feet. “You think that's it? You think they don’t want our blood? Our city is just the start!”
Damianus just caught sight of the boulders flying in, like the earth itself had risen up against them. At least ten chunks of stone, all fired in unison, sailed toward the wall on which they stood. “Run!”
He tried to pull Orin along but Orin yanked away from his grasp. Damianus fell over and tumbled down the steps to a lower section of the parapet. The wall shook with every hit and he glimpsed a boulder fly over the wall and across his field of vision, missing him by inches. Dust filled the air and covered his face. Scrambling to his feet, he looked around for Orin. His brother was standing further along the wall from him, higher up, his gaze unfocused as he swayed. He had blood plastered along the side of his head and he reached up to brush it with a confused expression. “Orin!”
Orin glanced up at him, his expression dazed. Then the wall shuddered and began to tilt strangely beneath him. Orin had just enough time to look up again when the wall began to crumble beneath his feet and he backed away, flailing his arms in panic. “Orin!” screamed Damianus.
Orin took another step then toppled backwards off the wall, falling into the canal below with a splash. Damianus felt his own footing beginning to slip and he ran, desperately clinging to any solid ground he could find. He began to crawl along the wall as the stones beneath him shifted. The wall was coming apart, falling in on itself right underneath him. The roar of falling masonry and the cries of men mingled as he felt his heart beating fast and his breath coming in ragged gasps, choking on the rising dust cloud. He finally came to his senses when he realized the wall beneath him was stable and he fell on his face. He became aware of his bloody fingers where he had scraped them in his desperate scramble. Then he looked back for Orin.
Damianus stood and saw an entire section of the fort wall had collapsed. Aquillan soldiers were approaching it at a rapid pace, swords drawn and yelling battle cries. He looked to the canal, now half buried in rubble, bodies continuing to bob on its surface. “Orin,” he whispered.
His brother was nowhere to be seen. If he didn’t move, the soldiers would reach him and likely butcher him. He steeled himself and ran in a crouch to the nearest stairs, heading for the main street. There was only one option now.
If he could get to the king, maybe he could sue for peace before the Aquillan forces began to run rampant through the streets.
***
Lumina pushed her way through the crowd running up the stairs. Where would her brother have taken her siblings? She was buffeted by the crowd and was forced to make her way off the stairs and onto a ledge to stop and think. His priority would be to keep them safe. What was the best way to do that in a city being attacked by Aquillans? The Aquillan camp. Maybe he had made some deal with Horatius to protect them. But then where was he now?
And where did that leave her? She could stay on top of the acropolis with everyone else. But they were more than likely going to be taken as captives. Or worse, be taken by the soldiers for their own enjoyment. To be despoiled and killed. She would not allow it.
She gazed out at her city, the midday sun causing the smoke across the rooftops to shimmer. One building stood out in her vision. The temple of the Cause was on the hill, glistening above the smoke and ash, the green of its gardens and trees standing out in stark contrast to the gray haze. Her gaze didn’t waver. If she was going to be killed, then at least it would be in the shadow of her maker, defending what she believed in.
Lumina cut further along the ledge until she found a tree and lowered herself down into it and the next ledge. It might take longer this way, but it was safer than the stairs.
***
Justinius grew more anxious as the sun continued its track across the sky. The longer he waited, the more smoke rose from the city, the more screams could be heard in the distance. The clash of combat was unmistakable as soldiers engaged in active hand-to-hand combat.
Alexus grew tired of his grumbling and finally threw up his hands. “I’ve had enough sitting here. I will be with the cohorts preparing to sack the city. I will see that we squash any last remaining rebels and fighters.”
Justinius watched him proceed down the hill, knowing the man would likely do more than that. What if Lumina happened to be in his way? Was she fighting back now?”
His thoughts were interrupted when Tullus Ultimius smashed his fist on the table. “This is taking too long! It should have been over by now. It must be the 8th hour.”
Horatius didn’t respond. He merely looked at the city, scanning it as if searching for answers. “Can we land ships now?”
“We’ve tried unblocking the harbor,” said Aggripus. “Unfortunately, even if we do clear the waters from their firepots, it will take time to land our troops inside and we will have a fight even then. As for the ports on the lakeside-”
“Reserved for those wishing to cross by boat and surrender themselves to us,” said Corbenus. “That way isn’t an option.”
Horatius turned to Corbenus. “Have a runner sent to Rufus. Tell him to distract the northern fort and push past it. If we can capture the acropolis, their center will fall and they will be forced to surrender.”
“I’ll lead it myself,” said Tullus. “I’m tired of standing around up here.”
“It may be dangerous,” said Catonus. “Enough senators, including a consul, are risking their lives today.”
“There are barely a handful!” said Tullus. “There was a time when we would be proud to fight on the field of battle. You soft ones stay up here. I’ll deal with their leaders myself.”
He too walked down the hill and Justinius could hold his silence no longer. “Father, I wish to enter the city as well.”
“Don’t be stupid,” said Corbenus, giving him a disgusted look. “You’ve never fought in battle.”
“I’ve faced a daemones,” responded Justinius. “That’s more than most can say. I will be in the rear. I won’t be near the fighting. I won’t even enter until they take down the northern fort.”
Horatius glanced at him. “Why?”
Justinius knew the real reason wouldn’t be approved so he struggled to find an ulterior motive.
“It's for that girl, isn’t it?” said Corbenus, his frown deepening.
“And if it is,” snapped Justinius. “I would see her safe if nothing else.” He turned his gaze back to Horatius. “Please, Father.”
Horatius didn’t look at him but stared at the table with the jostled pieces and rearranged a few. Then he nodded. “Be careful. Do not engage with anyone.”
Justinius nodded and hurried down the hill before he could hear another word from Corbenus or before his father could change his mind. He had no intention of being in the fighting. But he was prepared to do what was necessary to save Lumina.
***
Cassius stood at the end of the bridge, ready to charge the gate of the fort which was now burning and falling from its hinges. Their attempts to light it on fire had cost a great deal of men, their bodies strewn in the street before the fort. But with three cohorts at his back, and Rufus calling the orders, he prepared himself for the first fight of his life. He could not describe how he felt. Terrified yet eager to get on with it. Ready to burst with energy yet calm and composed. He was glad, at least, that his father had prepared him for the feelings he would have.
“Ready!” called Rufus. “Ready cohorts! On the horn!”
His call was passed down the line and another barrage of arrows hit the upraised shields. Cassius hissed in pain as the head of an arrow penetrated deep into his shield and pricked his arm. He couldn’t continue blocking forever. “Just call it,” he muttered.
The gate of the fort crashed over, its wood burning fitfully. Rufus raised a sword arm. “Charge!”
The horn sounded. A hundred voices rose in unison and were met with a hundred more behind and more still as the men of Aquilla sped toward the fort.
The hail of arrows, javelins, and stones that showered on them was nothing to what he had experienced before. Apparently, the defenders had been waiting for this charge and reserved the majority of their ammunition. Cassius felt his shield buckle under the barrage and it began to splinter. He groaned as a javelin burst through and scratched his arm and he was forced to drop it and make the final sprint without protection. Men fell around him as their shields broke or rocks smashed into their heads. Cassius grabbed a shield from a fallen man who was gurgling and clutching at the arrow protruding at an angle from his neck. “Sorry,” he gasped as he lifted it onto his arm and continued the charge into the courtyard with Rufus and the other men.
They emerged from the smoke and embers of the gate into a large courtyard with high walls on all sides. Carxandrian forces stood on all the walls and at the edges, holding the stairs, doors, and walltops. It would force the Aquillans to split up, disrupting their advantage of a shield wall.
“Kill them all!” screamed Rufus, his voice high pitched and filled with the thrill of battle. “Charge the walls!”
“Form into groups!” yelled Cassius, knowing few would hear him but hoping he could rally a group around himself at least. Several men followed his cue and raised their shields beside him in a tight formation as they moved toward the nearest stairs. A handful of men in ill-fitted armor guarded the stairs and they charged them with silent determination. Cassius waited for the nearest soldier to reach him when he hurled himself forcefully, shield first at the man. His opponent crashed into it and bounced off, falling to the ground where Cassius sank his sword into the man's exposed midriff. He barely registered in his mind that this man on the ground was his first kill. But surely not his last. Whirling to the side, he stabbed the soldier fighting his comrade to his right then left and, in but a moment, their attackers had fallen.
They advanced on the stairs. “Shields above!” yelled Cassius, hoping the men around him understood what he meant.
They did, lifting their shields and covering the man in front of him. Cassius felt a shield rest over his head as he lifted his shield in front of himself and led the slow march up the stairs of the wall. All around them, soldiers pushed to the walls, up stairs, and bunched into doorways. Bodies littered the courtyard below, some still writhing, those men unlucky enough to have been struck down. Rufus stood in the middle, giving orders as his men struggled to keep him under cover.
Cassius reached the top of the stairs where a man tried to shove him off the parapet. He dug his feet in and only stayed up with the support of the man behind him. He shoved back and slid his sword around his own shield and past the man's guard, killing the defender. His men burst onto the walltop. Time slowed for Cassius. Nothing existed except the man in front of him and the blades smashing into his shield and deflected by his own weapon. Ferocious and desperate faces loomed into his tunnel vision and he struck out at them, driving them away. Anger turned to pain. Rage to bitterness. Their faces swam in his own vision and his whole world turned to one of desperation and blood.
Men toppled from the wall screaming as Aquillan soldiers appeared around the other end and Cassius finally pulled to a stop. He looked around. Bodies everywhere and blood creeping across the wall made him turn away to look at anything else. The city around him was shining in the afternoon sun, the smoke in the air making it appear hazy. Two Aquillan cohorts were marching across the bridge and into the city, cheering and waving swords at the men standing on the top of the fort walls. Cassius raised his bloody sword and waved back.
“They come again! Rally!”
Cassius turned around, confused. Rufus continued yelling from the courtyard and, as Cassius ran to the wall's edge, he saw a large horde of Carxandrians pushing their way out of the fort's keep. They charged toward the main gate and Cassius’s eyes flicked toward the fort's entrance. Rufus and his men stood right in the path of the charging enemies.
***
Damianus pushed his way through the crowd of people running up the Acropolis, hoping against hope that he could reach the king in time. Shouts rang in his ears and the crying of his people filled his heart with terror and desperation. Then, from the tops of the steps, he heard the familiar voice of the king, screaming, “Out of the way! Move them aside!”
The guards Orin had left to “protect” the king were now surrounding him and his son, leading them down the steps. He must have bribed them somehow or convinced them that it was in their best interests to get him down from the acropolis to surrender to the Aquillan’s, especially after the southern fort had fallen. Damianus waved, trying to get his attention. “Your majesty!”
The people took notice as well and they pushed toward him, yelling, “Where are you going? Why do you not surrender!?”
“Filth!” yelled the king's son, “Make room for us!”
“Your majesty!” Damianus yelled, moving toward him, “Your majesty! King Sceler! Please, let me through!”
The king could not hear him, or refused to. The citizens were now shouting and moving in, causing the guards to crowd closer, fear etched across their features. The crowd packed more tightly and clogged the stairway, causing mass confusion as the people running from below found their path blocked. Their desperate and terrified voices grew louder. “Where are you going? Are you abandoning us? He’s abandoning us!”
“Your majesty!” Damianus was now in front of the guards, shoved against their shields by the crowd. “Your majesty! Let me pass! We must surrender!”
The king's wild gaze whirled about and passed over him. Even if he recognized him, he didn’t acknowledge him. The soldiers had now halted and the king screamed angrily, “Keep moving! Keep moving!”
Damianus felt himself being pushed by the guards into the crowd and the breath was crushed from him. “Wait! Wait, your majesty! Please!”
“Move them!” screamed Nothus, pushing the guards in the back. “Move them now!”
The guards began pushing hard and screams echoed from the citizens. The crowd had grown so dense on the stairway that several people had fallen from the edge. The screams of the people turned from panic to anger as they were shoved roughly toward the edges where several more toppled off the stairs and crashed down to the rocks below. “Murder!”
The cry rose among the crowd which, though still pressing to ascend the steps, was now thrashing at the guards, throwing anything they could grab, or even drawing weapons. “Kill them!” screamed King Sceler. “Kill any that stand in your way!”
The guards hesitated till one of them was struck by a rock and crumpled. Damianus backed away, panicked as swords flashed out of scabbards and began hacking at the people in front of them. Damianus pushed at the crowd but found them packed in too tightly. A sword flashed out and he threw out his arm, gasping. His tunic tore, blood spurted from his arm which he had thrown out to protect himself, and he yelled as his arm and chest seared with pain. He collapsed and felt the mass of feet stepping on him, crushing the breath from him as he struggled to stand. The crowd screamed and, those running up the stairs, suddenly found a horde of people pushing against them. The stairs became a confused mass of bodies: dying, wounded, scrambling, pushing, hacking, and stabbing.
Damianus was pushed down the stairs, rolling away from the stamping feet, before he scrambled to the edge and nearly tumbled off. He stared down at the bodies below, broken and bloodied from the fall. He pulled away in horror as another person fell, smashing their head on the way down.
“Kill them!” Nothus was still screaming, pushing at the crowd, moving closer to the edge. “Kill them! Savages! Release me!”
His final scream filled the air as a citizen stabbed him in the chest with a knife. Once. Twice. The prince coughed and gurgled before disappearing beneath the crowd. The king let out a bellow but not at the death of his son. He had a woman hanging on his neck, scratching at his face, screaming in desperation and anger at him as his guards abandoned their positions. The king lost his footing as he scrambled with her and several other citizens. He fell on her, squashing her beneath his considerable bulk and rolled over her. He rolled down several steps like a bulbous, misshapen ball, before tipping over the edge. He bounced once, giving him more momentum, then hit the rocks below.
Damianus struggled to his feet, moving with the crowd before reaching the nearest giant statue lining the edge. He clung to the proffered spear of the armored warrior and pulled himself beside it, out of the crowd. He stared down at the broken body below, no longer moving. The crowd ignored their one-time king but continued their rampage to the top.
Damianus felt his breath coming in ragged gasps, his body hunching over as he held his bleeding arm to his even bloodier chest. The one figure who could ensure their immediate surrender was dead, his blood and insides strewn about the rocks below.