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Avantir! It had held the Hygerians at bay for long. It had slain many of their best men in the taking. It was a fortress, a symbol of their might. In Avantir, they expected to at least emulate the feat of Ardan’s household, keeping back the Asbalnians until time should do its inevitable damage to their cause, until the Hygerians should once more pour across the Mountains, destroying the fragile freedom of Asbaln.
Yet in one wild night of swords, it was swept away.
-The Hygerian War
Randell of Avantir
They came, at last, to the house in the Swamp. They took all the weapons from it, slung in litters improvised from cloaks, and descended into the damp tunnel. Some attempt had been made, with wood shoring, to keep the dampness out of the shaft, but in the lower sections, they waded through water to their knees.
There was room for only one man at a time, a factor which had caused some concern to Rorick, and did to any of the men who gave it a thought. If there were anybody in the storeroom through which the tunnel entered the castle, one powerful warrior could hold the entrance of the tunnel for long enough that the alarm could be raised. Indeed, they might simply fall one by one as they came out into the castle.
Rorick, with the foremost five, rushed straight out into the room as soon as they had opened the door, swords ready for any opposition. The room was empty, save for the stored weapons and other items within it. The Hygerians had left the weapons stored there and had added some of their own to the stock. Rorick called the captains and under-captains of his force around him and knelt on the floor.
In the flickering light of the torches carried by his men, he sketched a plan of that part of the castle important to them in the floor’s dust. He looked up at Beran. “We will want groups of ten men stationed here, here, and here, and in this corridor here. Unless we are very unfortunate, they should be enough to hold the way open until we can bring our comrades out from the dungeon. And I will want fifty men to stand in the shadows out here, remaining quiet and unseen unless the rest of us are trapped inside. It will then be necessary for that group to open the gate and send up the signal. With only fifty, it is unlikely that you will be able to hold long enough, but you will have to try.”
He cast a smiling look around the room. “But that will not happen. We are in their midst, and they do not know it; even should some warrior or warriors stumble on us, I think we are more likely to carry out our plan before they can organize themselves. Now Beran will assign you to your tasks.” He stood and brushed off his hands.
In a series of short concise statements, Beran assigned the men to their tasks, then they set out. Rorick spoke softly:
“Now comes the last of the Guardians’ line,
In secret to his ancestral hall;
By hidden ways to the midst of foes,
And by the Sword will stand or fall.”
Rorick led them to the dungeons, leaving off the little groups at their appointed places. They met no one. Finally, at the last corner, they heard the sound of Hygerian voices. A careful look showed five men leaning on spears, telling stories. Rorick made some quick signs and led the first ten men around the corner in a rush. The guards had no time to give any alarm.
Most of the men were held in the larger dungeons, a little over two hundred of them. They passed out what arms they had brought, then retraced their steps. Then they had returned to the storeroom. Rorick announced to the new men, “Our task here is not only to set you free, but to open the gates and hold them open for Conel and the war-host. It is time we did that. We will therefore leave you here to arm yourselves, and when you have accomplished that, come out to meet us at the gates.”
Outside, they had marked all the sentries nearest the gates, and archers had been assigned to see that they could not interfere. Rorick gave the signal, and they rushed for the gate. As they began to open the huge gates, arrows hissed quickly up at the walls. As might be expected, it was not possible to silence so many men swiftly; shouts of alarm arose, taken up by other sentries around the walls.
The five flaming arrows mounted into the air, and the Warriors took a formation in front of the gate. Looking around, Rorick called “Beran! Assign fifty men to the walls, above the gates.”
After that, for a time, all was quiet, save for the occasional hum of a bowstring and shout as another Hygerian a sentry or just a man wandering outside, was seen. However much time might be needed until the prince arrived, Rorick would be grateful for every instant granted them before the Hygerians began to make determined assaults on them.
Before the first Hygerian assaults cue, the last of the Warriors were armed and outside. It was, however, a near enough thing that the last of them were still taking places when the first Hygerians were near enough to throw their javelins. But the arrows of Asbaln were not idle either, and though the skilled archers among them were few, Rorick had seen to it that every man who could be trusted to shoot an arrow elsewhere than into his own foot or into his comrade was armed with a bow.
The first attack was about fifty men, perhaps a detail assigned for emergency policing duty, and in what seemed to be the usual Hygerian manner, they charged without assessing what they might be facing. They failed, of course, but the Warriors took their first casualties. The second attack was better thought out, more men, but the arrows of the Warriors were flying even before they were near enough to make their javelins count. They charged home, though, and only the skill of the Warriors and their fighting ferocity enabled them to hold.
At last the foe drew back, having suffered badly. The Warriors suffered too, but they were now given some respite. The Hygerians, their first thought being that Asbalnians were coning over the walls, were unwittingly encouraged in that delusion by the men over the gate. This allowed some respite for the men in the gateway while the Hygerians untangled the confusion in which they found themselves.
There was still no sign of Conel and the war-host. Rorick stepped forward to be seen and turned to speak to the men. “The Prince ought to have been here by now; whether he is delayed or prevented from coming altogether, I know not, but we must hold here until he comes.”
For an answer, he heard a massed shout of “Avantir!” as he returned to his place.