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Queen Veronica was again impressed by the Chaktu. In the several days ride that it took her to travel back through The Storm Hills to the Castle Myra, they had accomplished what it would have taken a “modern” army several weeks to achieve. Once the Castle Myra was in sight, she had been signaled by a lone nomad to follow, and was guided into a concealed encampment. It had been built and supplied by only what the men and their horses could carry.
Not all were as large as Urartum, but each and every one of the Chaktu was a force to be reckoned with. Their weapon of choice was the broadsword, but many were armed with scimitars and bows. Many of the nomads were protected by fighting leathers, and a rare few of them had full plate armor. There was a great variety in the quality of the weapons and armor, as this force was only armed with what they could afford. Some of the swords were magnificent, while others looked nicked and rusted. One nomad nodded to her in greeting, wearing the finest armor that could be bought or traded for, followed up by another warrior who wore the most tattered fighting leathers that Veronica had ever seen. The disparity between the men notwithstanding, there was a righteous power to the group, as every man was there by choice, trained by the harshness of the land, and was wholly devoted to restoring The Balance of the gods. These men were true warriors; their entire life’s goal was to be lethal to their enemies and to protect their people. I wonder if Edward’s army ever looked as powerful and with such high morale as mine. Because indeed, this is my army, as the only reason it has assembled is because of my actions, my relationships, and my destiny. Veronica’s heart burst with pride at the army that spread before her.
Urartum nodded approvingly at his fellow warriors. “It seems my brothers are ready to fight.”
“Indeed.” Veronica dismounted from Midnight and tied her reins to a nearby tent. “Elder Aeccea, where can we meet to discuss strategy, and who should be in attendance?”
The old woman got off her horse and let it loose, the little mustang galloping off through the camp. “Only I. These warriors are loyal to me.” She stopped a passing warrior and spoke to him in their native tongue. The man looked to Veronica and Urartum with questions in his eyes, then answered softly and moved along. Elder Aeccea turned back. “It seems that there is a large place in the center of camp. We will meet there. But first, we must eat.”
Veronica found herself sitting on a log, with an animal skin draped about her shoulders, with a large bowl of stew steaming in her hands. Elder Aeccea lifted the bowl to her lips and drank deeply, and Urartum did the same. The stew was incredibly hot, and when Veronica tried doing the same, her mouth got burned badly. She sat awkwardly while her stew cooled enough for her to eat, and by the time she could start eating, the other two were nearly finished. She ate quickly and, because she hadn’t eaten much the days before, made herself nauseous from doing so.
Veronica looked about, and this place was as good as any to discuss how the nomads could best help break the siege on Castle Myra. “Thank you for the meal. I didn’t realize how hungry I was until you mentioned food.”
Urartum placed his bowl to the side. “You can only be strong if you eat.”
“I don’t think we need to head to the larger area to discuss our strategy. Here is just fine.”
Elder Aeccea nodded. “That is well. Any warrior who wishes to hear can hear in this place. Please know that our people are not soldiers. We don’t care to be controlled.”
Is that what they see of our military? Mindless followers? Veronica didn’t reply. “Have the warriors gathered any information on Sargon’s forces?”
The old woman called out to a nearby warrior and issued a quick command, who grunted and left with haste.
“Is he going to get someone?”
“He will bring one of the watchers. They know much of these invaders.”
A moment later, a lanky man appeared. He came silently and seemed reluctant to speak, as if he had spent so much time alone that he didn’t know what to say. “Elder, I come.”
Aeccea rose and greeted the man by placing both of her hands on his shoulders. “Notturno, I am glad you came.” She turned back to Veronica. “What knowledge do you need from Notturno?”
Veronica grabbed a stick off the ground and scratched an X into the dirt. “Notturno, this is the Castle Myra.” She traced the nearby Forever Green Forest, the Storm Hills, and the main road leading to the castle. “Can you show me the route Sargon is bringing in his supplies for his army?”
Notturno looked to Aeccea, who translated for him so he understood the question. He took the stick from Veronica and drew lines in the dirt where he had seen wagons being brought up. Most of the wagons had come through the Forever Green Forest like those Veronica had encountered on her way back to the castle.
“Thank you. Can you mark where Sargon has his catapults positioned?”
He made small circles where he had seen catapults, which seemed to be grouped together tightly just outside the forest, well within range of the Castle Myra.
Veronica studied the rough diagram on the ground before her, tapping her foot as she thought. “Can you show me where they may be getting their water from?”
He marked the map in a few places with wavy lines to indicate water.
“Very good.” Veronica thought in silence for a moment more, trying to listen to her heart, her gut instincts, on what to have these brave men do. “I don’t believe we will have much of a shot against this vast army if we attack head-on.”
Urartum smiled. “We are strong.”
“Yes, but with the sheer number of the enemy, not even strong warriors will be enough. We need to act with wisdom.” She pointed the stick at the water sources and the catapults. “The catapults are the main threat to the castle. If we can destroy those, we take away Sargon’s teeth.”
Aeccea nodded. “The catapults are far away. It will be difficult to fight our way to them.”
Veronica nearly smacked herself in the forehead. Why didn’t I think of that? “You are correct. I must go to the castle and organize some men to attack.”
“Then what shall the Chaktu do?”
“I need your warriors to hit them in several different places simultaneously, then fall back. You need to distract them from our men heading to the catapults and cause as much damage as possible. You should try and target supplies and weapons caches. While you are doing this, we need to find a way to put the essence of roses into their water, which means it needs to be a body of water, not just a stream.”
Elder Aeccea pointed to one of the wavy lines on their dirt map. “This is a pond. We will make a powder to put in the water. You wish to free any possessed?”
“Exactly. If we can give those men back their free will, they will be able to help us. Your people should watch for these men and bring them back to this camp and begin building a tertiary force. I’m sure they will be willing to help free their friends from control as well.”
Urartum smacked his open palm with a fist. “They will want revenge. They will be good to fight with.”
“I am going to head back to the Castle Myra to try and find what Sargon is looking for there and to organize an attack on the catapults. I will communicate to you when we set off, at which point you need to attack their forces in strength.”
They reached their agreement, and Veronica bid them farewell and good luck and thanked them once more. Midnight was waiting for her on the edge of the camp, and she set off for the Castle Myra at once.
#
Flashes of purple-like lighting shone against Amaryllis’ barrier, deflecting round after round of catapult fire. Sargon’s forces seemed to be making themselves comfortable and had the western side of the castle surrounded. The crossbowmen were making it difficult for Sargon’s forces to encircle the castle entirely, which was a godsend to Veronica, as if they had encircled the castle walls, there would have been no way for her to make her way into the castle undetected. As she had planned, the skinny rope she had used to scale the Castle wall, almost unnoticeable until you got close, dangled where she had left it. She had directed Barbarossa to leave it there for her return.
Her arms were on fire as she pulled herself up the rope.
I swear this wall was shorter when I was coming down.
Determined, she made it to the top of the wall, pulling herself over the edge, sweat running down her face. She didn’t have time to rest; she needed to act fast so the nomads’ efforts didn’t go to waste.
She found Sir Barbarossa on the western wall by the gate, overlooking the battlefield, his hand on the hilt of his scimitar. A man like Sir Barbarossa did not care much for sieges. Men like him lived for facing their foes on the open battlefield, not hiding behind a wall. His calculating stare was replaced by warmth when he saw the Queen approach, and he bowed deeply to her.
“I was able to rescue Urartum, and because I did, the Steel-blade tribe, the nomad tribe that was banished after I fled, agreed to ally with us in our fight against Sargon.”
Sir Barbarossa’s eyebrows went up in surprise.
“Their force is in a hidden encampment north of the Castle. They will start attacking Sargon’s forces immediately but not engage directly. While they draw away the soldiers’ attention in the camps below, I will lead a group of men to attack and disable the catapults.” Purple flashed directly over her head from the barrier, deflecting a catapult shot, and Veronica flinched. “It’s the only way we can prevent these monsters from taking the castle.”
Barbarossa nodded in agreement.
“What is the status of the castle?”
He pulled out a scroll with a grimace and handed it to her.
Veronica looked over the most recent inventory of the castle stores, and it wasn’t looking hopeful. She ran her finger down the scrap of dirty paper, covered with bits of dough and a light dusting of flour, and tried to read the nearly illegible handwriting. Because they did not have the time or ability to get additional food into the castle, they were not well prepared for a long siege. The castle stores were down to less than a week of meat, and that was only if they started making soup rations to make the meat stretch further.
“Our stores are this low already?”
He nodded grimly.
Veronica feared morale would plummet as soon as the defenders realized how close they were to starving. The trick to surviving a siege was to keep up the facade of a vast store of food. I must remember to send directions to the kitchens to start making soup. We probably should have been making it from the beginning of the siege. Just another mistake of mine to add to the growing pile of them.
“Any news from the other Great Cities?” He answered no with a shake of the head.
“I appreciate all that you have done in my absence. Hold the line.”
He bowed again and turned to face the army, his hand returning to his sword hilt.
The other Great Cities must be either in distress or taken if communications have stopped from them.
Amaryllis was on the rug by the hearth in the Royal Bedchamber, running a high fever and breathing heavily. The barrier that Amaryllis had placed was holding, but that seemed to be a double-edged sword. She was running low on life. Her color was off, and her rose gold mane was turning gray.
Veronica ran her hands through her friend’s mane. Amaryllis looked up to her with heavy eyes and gave a week bray in greeting.
“It’s good to see you too, Amaryllis.” She pulled her hand away to find that Amaryllis was also losing hair, her hand covered in it. She was dismayed to see several pieces of fruitcake had gone uneaten by her side. Seeing her friend in such a dismal state strengthened her resolve to destroy those catapults. Every impact on the barrier caused her friend to wince. Veronica ran her hand along the unicorn’s back. “We have a plan to stop the catapults. Once we do, you’ll get better. Thank you for giving so much to protect the castle.”
Regret that she had left her friends to defend the castle while she set off on a personal mission seeped into her. If I had destroyed those catapults sooner, Amaryllis wouldn’t be on death’s door. I saved Urartum and got the Chaktu to aid us, but the plan had always been to save Urartum for my selfish reasons, and our new alliance was nothing more than a happy accident.
She got up and headed to the window. The forest surrounding the castle had been cut back for fuel by Sargon’s army, and hundreds of fires and tents were illuminated by the sunset, peppering the land. The many siege engines were still firing, and with each launch, the boulder flipped through the sky, striking deep into the barrier, slowly passing through it like a carrot in gelatin, and then falling harmlessly to the ground just outside of the castle walls. A large group of Sargon’s armies were gathering for another assault on the front gate, with four battering rams ready to try and smash through the already badly dented portcullis.
I wonder how many of those attacking the gates are known to the defenders here. I wouldn’t be surprised if he only used those dear to the defenders to try and break their will. He is a monster, and I will be the one to end him. The truth was that Veronica was intensely proud of her countryman. They were literally sacrificing everything to defend Anatolia, and not even powerful and evil tactics would break their will.
Veronica stepped around the now sleeping Amaryllis, collected her spear, and then continued on her way out the bedchamber door. She went down the spiral staircase and slowed to listen to the hum of the people talking and laughing inside the barracks. It felt good to know that they were safe.
A servant passed her on the stairs, and Veronica flagged her down. “I need some roses. Please find them and bring them to me at the dungeons.”
The woman blinked blankly at her. “Roses, my Queen?”
Why do people always look at me like I’m crazy? “Yes, roses. If you have powdered rose hips, that would also be good to bring.” The servant started to stutter something else, but Veronica stopped her. “Now. I do not have time to explain.” She hurried away, muttering something under her breath about catapults and crushing.
Veronica intended to organize a sortie to destroy those catapults, and she knew Sir Richard would be more than willing to accompany her into the fray.
#
It felt like deja vu, walking down the long hallway of the dungeon, the insipid jailer leading the way with his lamp held high, him fiddling with the keys in front of the second to last dungeon, and the dusty air and the smell of human feces. She ran her fingers over the delicate rose petals in her hand while she waited for the jailer to complete his simple task. She had her spear strapped securely across her back, ready to defend herself against her corrupted adviser if necessary. Finally, the door groaned open, revealing the dim, disgusting interior of the cell.
“Jailer?”
“Yes, your majesty?”
“I want every one of your keys labeled so you can find the correct key in a timely manner. You have one job, do it right.” He flinched at her rebuke, and Veronica pushed past him to survey the cell. Sir Richard looked terrible and repugnant. He had a thick layer of grime across his face, his beard was long and unkempt, and his clothes were torn and tattered. She was perturbed to find that Thomas was missing. “Where is Thomas?”
The jailer shrunk back at the mention of his name, which Veronica knew to be a bad sign. He cowered before her, stepping back away from her like she was some wild animal that would lash out if he made too quick a move. His higher-pitched voice was grating on Veronica’s senses. “Yes, that one. The other one killed him. The morning I came, and he was fine. The next time, I found him dead.”
Veronica felt sick. Poor Erika. I’m sure she is heartbroken. Her blood ran cold with fury, and she contemplated running the worthless man through where he stood. Her rage notwithstanding, her voice remained surprisingly even, her external temperament cool and controlled. “I warned you that if anything happened to either of them during their stay here, I would hold you personally accountable.”
He flinched. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
Veronica drew her spear from behind her back, spun it around, and lowered her spearhead to his eye level. “Are you lying to me? Did you kill him?”
He shook his head rapidly. “Never, Your Majesty!”
She grimaced. “You lack the character for me to believe you outright. How do I know that you didn’t poison him to rid yourself of an inconvenient prisoner? Where is your proof?”
He swallowed and pointed to Sir Richard, who remained uncharacteristically quiet. “That one confessed, Your Majesty. He boasted of it, Your Majesty. Have mercy, Your Majesty!”
Sir Richard gave a low and evil chuckle. “When you tell the woman, his lover, make sure to tell her that the mighty Sir Richard of Gordion made his death incredibly long and painful.”
Veronica clenched her fist around the rose she had brought with her, and smacked her spear onto the floor. “Why? Why did you kill him? He was under possession, just as you are. You were on the same side of this war!”
He cocked his head to the side “Why, my Queen? Because he was weak. Because I wanted to. Because I wanted to hurt the cowardly woman who locked me in this dungeon.”
“Monstrous.”
“Words, hm, yes, more words from the cowardly Queen. I see you left the cowardly guard with the stupid bent sword at home. Or did you lock him in the dungeons as well?”
“No. After I am done here, you will not be locked in a cell either.”
“The prey wants to tango with the predator? Humorous.”
“Enough!” Veronica rushed the chained man, forced his mouth open, and shoved in all of the rose petals she had. She pinched his jaw as hard as he could and shoved his chin upwards, forcing him to swallow.
Sir Richard shook and coughed. He furrowed his brow, not breathing, turning cherry red. Then he laughed at her. He let out a laugh that only a crazed person could utter. He laughed, and laughed.
Veronica could’ve kicked herself for not asking Elder Aeccea about the exact method of bringing men back from possession. What if it was only to prevent possession and not to free them from it? What if the tribe had gotten it confused over the many generations that they passed it down? Then, the laugh abruptly turned into a sob.
Sir Richard began sobbing uncontrollably. Tears were running in torrents down his face as his face contorted in grief. He hung limp in his shackles as he cried, choking out words in between sobs. “My Queen, oh my Queen, I am so unbelievably sorry. I did those things. I did horrible things. I said horrible things.”
Veronica yanked the keys out of the bewildered jailer’s hands and unshackled Sir Richard, who fell against her shoulder and used it to cry on. “I killed Thomas. I have known the soldier since he was young. Good man, that Thomas. I killed him. I killed him terribly.”
She patted his back and tried not to gag at the smell of him. “It wasn’t you, Richard. You were possessed by Sargon. It wasn’t you.”
“My resolution should have been stronger, my Queen. Something as simple as sorcery should not have turned me into a traitor to my country.”
“It didn’t turn you into a traitor. You are not a traitor.”
The sobbing began to subside. “Thank you, my Queen.”
Veronica helped the weak and broken man out of the dungeon. There were times when he was able to walk on his own, but he leaned on Veronica so heavily that her shoulder ached, and if she didn’t have her spear with her, she wouldn’t have had the strength to support him. Sir Richard mainly remained silent, grunting and groaning from the stiffness of his legs and arms, muttering to himself quietly about the terrible things that he tried to do during the ambush and what he was eventually able to do against Thomas. He had become more lucid and could stand on his own by the time they exited.
Veronica leaned him up against the ancient wall of the dungeon and rolled her arm to get the cramping to subside. She couldn’t hide her joy that her good friend had returned to her. Tears of joy ran down her face, and she embraced the filthy man tightly. “It is good to see you, Sir Richard. It is very good to see you come back to us.”
He held himself, quaking, downtrodden, broken, his soul wounded by the ravaging of the possession. He gritted his teeth, and looked at his shaking hands in amazement that they were under his control once again, before clamping them over his eyes and sobbing uncontrollably. “My Queen, I am sorry, I am so sorry. The things I did are unexplainable and horrific. The things I said to you...” He moaned in embarrassment and guilt.
Veronica wiped the tears from her own eyes and pulled his hands away from his, looking up into them. “It’s water under the bridge, Richard.”
He violently shook his head. “No, I have done horrible things...”
She placed a hand on his face. “Richard. It’s alright. I forgive you. I’m just so happy to have released you from the sorcerer’s spell.”
He nodded slowly, hardly believing her.
She stepped back and straightened tall and smiled at her friend—her friend who had sacrificed everything for his country. She smacked her spear pole on the ground. “Sir Richard of Gordion, we have an opportunity to significantly weaken this siege, possibly break it. Are you ready for some revenge against the man who took away your free will? Revenge against the man who made you suffer a fate that was worse than death? Revenge against a man who forced you to murder your comrade?”
Sir Richard looked horrid, but his unfocused eyes locked on hers, and he ground his teeth together in a growl. “Absolutely, my Queen. He will rue the day that he possessed Sir Richard of Gordion.”
“Good. I will gather the men. You go get cleaned up and get yourself something hearty to eat. We have some catapults to destroy.”
Another flash of purple erupted from the shield above their heads. He nodded gravely. “It would be an honor, my Queen.” He bowed deeply, held low, and then arose with a broken grin on his face. “Thank you for bringing me back.”
The tears started flowing again, and she smacked his arm. “I would have done it sooner if I had known how. Get cleaned up.”
He nodded and began stumbling his way to the keep. The Castle Guard soldiers who were passing by froze in their tracks, each and every one of them, when they realized it was Sir Richard himself leaving the dungeons. Once they observed that he had returned to his usual self, they helped him and cheered him all the way to the keep. It was a magnificent sight, the soldiers cheering their mighty hero, and Veronica knew that if she had not followed her gut to save Urartum, she most likely would not have learned of the cure from Elder Aeccea. Her good friend would still be rotting away in that forsaken dungeon.