Bats in The Belfry
With a flutter of wings and a torrent of feathers, the remaining pigeons were shaken out of the pen and set free, disappearing into the blue and breezy midmorning sky. From the top of the Great Watch House, Rullo’s gaze followed as they flitted south, drawing him to the plumes of smoke rising from the docks and beyond.
Rullo considered the path he had taken to arrive at this moment. He had always considered himself a dedicated and faithful servant of Oln, and a loyal proponent of the Temple and its teachings and, at times, a warrior for its cause. It was not until he read a philosophical discourse by the young nobleman, Sebastian Laventis, that he realised there were cracks and flaws in the Temple’s apparent infallibility. Rullo remembered the clarity, enthusiasm and understanding he felt upon reading Sebastian’s A Commentary on the most exalted Temple of Oln, which he had never felt when reading the sacred texts of the Books of the Seven Pillars and The Ollinac Chronicles.
Due to his position as a Paragon of Oln, he had sought out Sebastian to investigate the work of this gifted child. Sebastian, still in adolescence at the time, was sceptical of Rullo’s intentions and was understandably reluctant to speak with him. As a gesture, Rullo provided a signed letter to the nobleman, exempting any discussion from accusation of heresy, as long as it was in private, and no record would ever be made of what was discussed.
In the discussions, he found Sebastian possessed an uncanny knowledge of Oln’s teachings and displayed a zeal for his own interpretations of the fundamental religious texts. Rullo would listen to Sebastian’s arguments against the machinations of the Temple of Oln and how he believed it only instructed the masses in aspects which suited their corrupt purposes of gathering coin and exerting control over the nations of Lattica, Gaelgara, and Brytonica.
Laventis argued that the length of time since something was written down did not make it any more true or false, and that it did not make sense to believe everything simply because it had been written in a bygone era. He explained his opinion of how time was used by the Temple to add credibility to their arguments when, if one really thought about it, it should have the opposite effect. If anything, Laventis had postulated, the societies responsible for these pieces were not as advanced or as civilised as those existing in this age; and were therefore less capable of understanding the events and stories within the great texts of the god.
Rullo spent months with the young noble, whose father had graciously invited him to stay at Staghaven Reaches, although Rullo was never sure whether the invite was a genuine gesture or out of fear of rebuke. He remembered the days spent discussing many of the finer aspects of the practices of the Temple of Oln and debating how they may be improved – their discussions were tantamount to blasphemy, running the risk of being branded heretics should somebody learn what they had uttered.
A year or so later, due to the popularity of Sebastian’s works, the Paragons of Oln, a feared and often brutal branch of the Temple charged with rooting out challengers to orthodoxy, resolved to put an end to the dangerous and blasphemous work of the upstart nobleman. They held Lord Martin Laventis accountable under the Ollinac Laws and demanded an exorbitant ‘donation’ to the Temple, and a declaration by the lord stating the work was simply the angry ramblings of a child. On their way to Red Antler Castle, the Paragons and a detachment of fifty of their soldiers destroyed the village of Deer Leap, nestled in the foothills. They killed twenty families and burned seventy cattle. Not only had they not attempted to conceal this atrocity, but it had been proudly announced when they entered Martin Laventis’ house – they wanted to make sure they had his attention. The Paragons threatened Martin Laventis by stating this was the only leniency which would be given, due solely to the lord’s previous record of donation and support for the Temple. They warned if the youth should ever in his lifetime produce works of a similar nature, the High Temple of the Seven Pillars would then pass judgement on the family and determine suitable punishments for all. During their investigation, Rullo had arrived to warn Sebastian of their plans but had been too late.
In the end, arrangements had been made for the Paragons to collect their donation of two hundred gold marks and seven hundred silver tassels from Lord Laventis. The settlement was agreed by the lord, but before the clerics left, they decided they wanted a public spectacle and made an additional stipulation – Lord Martin Laventis was to publicly denounce Sebastian for his works and disown his son.
The order had expected swift compliance to their demands, considering the terrible price they had already inflicted on Lord Laventis, and for him to fear the loss of his entire fortune and holdings more than the loss of his third-born son. It was a result they had seen from other lords who had opposed them. It was a result Rullo had witnessed first-hand as he watched other lords kowtow to the demands of the Paragons, demands he had often delivered personally.
They had not counted on the stalwart dedication of the lord to his family and in particular his son Sebastian, whom he supported in the matter. Words were then exchanged with the clerics at Red Antler Castle, where the lord had respectfully offered alternatives. The Paragons, however, were intractable in their terms.
The threats made by the Paragons were not taken lightly and were dealt with severely. Rullo remembered how Martin Laventis had arranged an ultimate meeting with the Paragons on foot of a letter full of contrition, acceding to their demands. Such was the arrogance of the Paragons they could not conceive of anyone resisting them – most were not even wearing armour at the meeting, falling quickly to Martin’s ambush.
Rullo remembered the order from the High Sacramentar to find and kill Sebastian, the memories accompanied by a sick feeling in his stomach and a quickening of his heart. It was a most heinous crime for a Paragon to disobey his superior.
Instinctively Rullo had unslung his flanged mace in obedience but found himself frozen where he stood. He could not remember if he had spoken aloud or thought Oln take your soul as he raised his weapon and struck savagely into the neck of the High Sacramentar, caving in his skull with a second strike. The ensuing fighting had been brutal, and the Paragons never managed to regroup after the loss of their leader.
The clerics and their men never left the Reaches, revenge for Deer Leap and one hundred and twenty-three murdered innocents. The actions of Lord Martin Laventis set a sequence of events in motion which ultimately brought Rullo to the rooftop of the Great Watch House; events which would soon bring Sebastian Laventis to the shores of Aksson.
Still watching the fires at the docks, Rullo closed the empty fly pen. He looked out over the city, towards the shoreline and the array of islands which disappeared over the horizon. The sun was rising over the sea with true magnificence, making him feel grateful to Oln for such a resplendent world.
Had it been any other morning, he would have lingered; but today he had no more time. He arched his neck and stared into the blue and white sky, offering a silent prayer to Oln. He thanked him for the beauty of the day and sought his protection, should he be deserving of it. He also prayed for all those who would lose their lives this day and asked Oln to allow their souls to be guided to the Sanctified Lands. He descended the stairs from the roof to the first floor of the tower.
His men, dressed in the uniform of the City Guards, were busy clearing out the remaining items from the stores. The weapons and armour were being loaded onto several carts destined for one of Rullo’s agents, who would ensure they were out of the reach of the City Guards while put to good use against them. The weapons had also been distributed to those who were to cause disruption at the docks and others he had rallied into attacking the baron’s estate.
There was a particular set of armour which remained untouched. The suit of hardened steel plate lay at the furthest recess of the first-floor storeroom, with each separate plate and piece wrapped in oiled sheepskin. Also wrapped in the sheepskin was a flanged mace.
Rullo signalled one of the others to assist him in putting on his armour.
“Yes, Prelate,” the man responded.
Rullo opened his mouth as if to speak but remained silent. The two men removed the sheepskin from the armour pieces to reveal the beautifully polished fluted steel, trimmed in gold and etched with a downward facing double-edged sword against outstretched wings. Rullo placed his hauberk over his head and stood in silent contemplation as his assistant placed and secured the various pieces of cold metal on his limbs.
Although an accomplished and stout-hearted warrior, Rullo had always hated battle and suspected with each piece of armour placed on his body, the more his soul became hidden from Oln’s protective gaze.
“That’s everything secure. You are ready,” his assistant announced.
“Is a man ever really ready for ending life?” Rullo muttered to himself after nodding to the man, who handed him his shield and mace.
The weapon was heavy, and it had been over three years since he had wielded it. Getting used to the feeling of the mace, Rullo swung it at the rack which had been holding it, smashing it to pieces.
Ah! Now I remember, he thought.
“It is time, Dáffid. Tell the rest,” Rullo commanded his assistant, who was dressed as a City Guard. “Did Nizari and the others return yet?”
“We have not seen them since dark this morning, Prelate.”
“Then they have failed,” said Rullo, his tone flat. “Please, do not call me Prelate, I no longer bear that title.” Rullo gave a weak smile, drifting into contemplation of other possible options should Nizari not return.
Dáffid nodded, eyes down. “Apologies, m’lord,” he said.
Rullo did not wish to correct the man a second time in as many breaths. He heard then some unintelligible shouts coming from the ground floor of the lighthouse, shouts followed by the sounds of clashing steel.
“Rullo!” came the roar of a familiar voice. There was no mistaking the deep and ferocious roar of the Stone Bear of Aksson. “Show yourself, betrayer!” Feylan bellowed.
Two of Rullo’s men came bounding up the stairs to the storeroom.
“It’s the baron and his soldiers,” sputtered one of them, trying to catch his breath. “They rode up on us. Úlin tried to stall them but was run through by the baron. The soldiers did the same to the others out there.”
Oln delivers unto me, thought Rullo.
Without a word, Rullo moved to the lever controlling the locking system of the lighthouse by the spiralling stairs and pulled it. He could hear the tempered oak door of the tower swinging closed and the large iron beam crashing into place across it. The tower was sealed, as was the fate of those within. With a swing of his mace, Rullo smashed the mechanism used for lifting the beam, sending the various ropes and counterweights flying in opposite directions. He calculated that with the tower locked, he and his followers may be able to defeat the baron and his men and there would be no further soldiers able to get in to help them.
“You have only managed to prevent your own escape,” came another roar from the baron. “I know you are here. Surrender and your death will be quick.” The size of the hallway gave his voice greater resonance and even more menace to his words.
Rullo signalled to the men to gather bows and whatever arrows they could from the storeroom, of which only a few bundles remained.
Risking the quickest of glances around the wall of the stairs, Rullo spotted two soldiers with their shields held in front of them, preparing to climb the stairs, and one in front of the baron, shielding him. He smiled to himself, having estimated the odds were more against him than this. He had the high position and the advantage of ranged weapons.
The baron is doomed. My thanks, my Lord Oln, thought Rullo.
With the two archers in position, Rullo gestured to the third man to follow him back into the storeroom, where he lifted the empty weapons racks to the doorway. “Bring what you can upstairs,” he commanded. “Destroy the rest. We do not have much time. We will throw some of the racks down the stairs, then use the rest to block this area.”
Rullo then addressed the archers in position. “On my signal, let fly, keep them back or kill them. If they get too close for bows, regroup to the second floor.”
The men nodded their understanding. Detecting apprehension in the men, Rullo offered a reassuring smile and patted each of them on the shoulder. “Good shooting, brothers. May Oln guide you. We will get through this and be out of the city soon. Trust me, and in Oln.”
“Yes, m’lord,” came their response.
“Rullo! By Oln’s balls, I will make you suffer for your treachery. Face me, damn you,” the whole tower seemed to demand.
“Good morning, Baron. Why not join me up here and we can speak like civilised men instead of snarling at each other like rabid wolves?” Rullo looked back to the archers. “Get ready,” he whispered.
The fast-paced footsteps of the Shielders could be heard on the stairs. As soon as they saw the shields rounding the corner, the two archers let loose while Rullo launched one of the weapons racks down the stairs.
The soldiers dropped behind their shields. Volley after volley pranged into or bounced off the shields. Rullo hauled another weapons rack down the stairs, creating further blockage.
The soldiers slowed their advance through the debris, trying to keep themselves protected while clambering over the weapons racks.
“Together,” came the command from the baron. “Step forward.”
As there was no room for more than two abreast on the steps, the third soldier held his large shield over their heads from a step lower, protecting them from above. The three Shielders moved up a single step on the stairs, keeping themselves covered as best they could.
The archers appeared to be more selective with their shots, another empty rack hurtling at the Shielders.
“Forward,” came the order from the baron. The Shielders advanced.
“Come with me,” he told Dáffid, and the pair climbed the stairs to the next floor.
This level of the tower was maintained as a pantry and rest area for the City Guardsman who operated the lighthouse. Rullo surveyed the area and found what he was looking for – three barrels of salted fish. The two men started rolling the barrels out to the stairs.
“Archers, retreat!” came the call from Rullo.
The two men on the first platform grabbed whatever arrows they could and bounded up the stairs.
“Grab what you can and cast it down,” Rullo said, pointing at the pantry.
Once the racks were negotiated and cleared from the stairs, the Shielders advanced to the first floor of the Great Watch House. The baron followed and regrouped at the storeroom, where the two front Shielders were removing the arrows from their shields.
“That’s it, men,” the baron said. “They will soon run out of room. Press the advance. Mind your footing and keep a watchful eye on the level above. They will soon taste our steel.”
The men nodded their agreement.
“This is our first fallback position,” Feylan declared. “Is there anything here we can use?”
All four men looked around the dim room. “Nothing better than what we ’ave, m’lord,” responded a Shielder named Rafn, removing the last arrow from his shield. “There are arrows, but no bows left.”
“Then we will press on,” ordered the baron. “All ready?”
The Shielders moved into position, Rafn standing by the baron’s side to shield him.
“Move,” the baron commanded.