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The fire night continued well past midnight. Crispy fillets of meat were torn from slow-cooked wallabies and handed around. Cheerful talk echoed across the training field, sometimes switching to singing and mad, stamping dancing. Nick ate till his belly hurt, and at one point he had to lie down by the bonfire to rest. The stars were out in force, puncturing the blackness like a spray of bullet holes in a tin roof.
Cal and Artemis flopped down beside him.
‘I never thought I’d wear one of these,’ Cal said, turning over his copper disc so it caught the firelight. ‘It’s strange. But good.’
Artemis rolled onto her stomach and grinned at the boys. ‘It’s great. We’ve got somewhere to come back to. All of us. Always.’
Nick nodded. This night, these people, the tightness on his skin from the dried ochre and his full belly, did feel good. Auremos was a place they could return to, somewhere they could be themselves. It was home. Now and always.
He wished he could stay forever, be an ordinary Bandála soldier guarding this ancient haunted city and not ever have to worry about the life that waited for him beyond its golden walls. But he knew that, one day, probably sooner than he’d like, his other life would catch up with him, and he’d have no choice but to answer the call. He would never forget the terrifying sight of the Bandála standing before him with so much fierce hope in their eyes. Dread crept over him again. Would he ever be able to live up to their expectations? All he could do was try.
The temple bell began to toll. It wasn’t the slow, rhythmic clanging Nick was used to hearing. This sound was urgent and relentless, and he felt the mood around him shift from elation to confusion.
Then David yelled, ‘The beacon towers are lit! Everyone to your posts!’
People scrambled to obey. Most sprinted towards the eastern quarter.
‘Cal!’
Cal leapt to his feet and saluted. ‘Sir!’
David gripped his shoulder. ‘From now on, you’re Nick’s shadow. Don’t let him out of your sight.’
A flash of understanding passed between them.
‘Yes, sir,’ Cal replied. Then he turned to Nick and Artemis and said, ‘We have to get to the armoury.’
They raced up to the sun temple where the bell still rang. The clamour set Nick’s teeth on edge. As they crested the hill, he saw that the entire eastern wall was lit up with torchlight. Senior Bandála soldiers shouted commands, sending the younger recruits scurrying in all directions. Nick followed Cal and Artemis to a large storage area crammed with spears, shields, crossbows, staffs, swords, daggers, long bows, quivers brimming with arrows, and lots more deadly-looking things Nick couldn’t name.
They waited in line until a Yándi man barked, ‘Post?’
‘Aqueducts,’ Cal and Artemis replied.
The soldier tossed them swords, daggers, bows and quivers of arrows. Their faces were still coated in red ochre, with their eyes and lips painted white, and once they’d armed themselves Nick thought they looked even more unnerving.
‘Post?’
Nick stared at the selection of weaponry and replied, ‘Uh...’
‘He’ll only need a sword,’ Artemis said. When Nick opened his mouth to protest, she asked, ‘You ever shot an arrow before?’
‘No, but—’
‘Safer for the rest of us if you don’t start now.’
Nick took the sword and buckled it to his belt. When he glanced up again, Artemis had gone.
‘I’ll take you to the watchtower,’ Cal said, ducking back into the street. ‘You can see Artemis and the other sharpshooters up there.’
Nick sidestepped a woman struggling with a screaming toddler and asked, ‘What are sharpshooters?’
‘Korelian archers. On a clear night like this, they’ll be able to see right up into the mountains.’
‘Artemis is a sharpshooter?’
‘She’s one of the best,’ Cal replied.
As they climbed a spiral stone staircase, Nick glimpsed the battlements through the narrow windows. Soldiers ran up and down the eastern wall, getting into position between the merlons and checking their equipment. Several of them had covered their jackets in a light dusting of red ochre. White Bandála stars were painted on their chests.
Higher up, the aqueducts came into view, connecting the city walls to Blackrock Mountain. Both of the channels were dry.
‘What happened to the water?’ Nick asked.
Cal pointed to a spot halfway along the aqueducts. ‘It’s been redirected. See? It flows onto the plain and turns the ground to mud. Makes it harder for an enemy to get to the wall then.’
The staircase ended at the watchtower roof, where a huge beacon fire burned. David was there with six other Bandála soldiers, surveying the hills and shouting orders to the people below.
‘What’s happening?’ Nick asked.
‘There’s an Arai force coming over Blackrock Mountain,’ David replied. ‘I’m not sure how large it is yet, but I’m expecting it to be strong.’
A cry rose from the battlements. ‘Messenger approaching!’
David leaned out over the watchtower wall. ‘Sharpshooters! Hold your fire!’
Nick squinted across the plain. Even with his excellent night vision, he couldn’t see anything but a few trees sticking out of the acres of grass. The land was clear for a kilometre beyond the wall, so if anybody moved down there, they’d be spotted. And then he did spot someone – a lone rider on horseback cantering towards the eastern gate.
‘Where are the rest of them?’ Nick asked.
‘In the bush,’ Cal replied. ‘They won’t come much closer till they’re ready to get into the city.’
‘How are they going to do that? The walls are too high.’
‘That’s why we’ve got sharpshooters. The Arai will try to take the aqueducts.’
Nick stared down the aqueduct channels and asked, ‘How far can the archers shoot?’
‘About halfway to the diversion channels.’
Nick reckoned that was a range of two hundred metres. He wondered if the Arai would use the top tier at all, or if they’d just stick to the lower tier and use the arch supports as cover.
A soldier marched across the watchtower and handed a piece of paper to David, who scanned the contents and snarled.
‘Tell the messenger that the Bandála will never submit to Thanos’s demands.’
The soldier left, and David tossed the paper into the beacon fire. Just before the note turned to ash, Nick saw two lone words written in black ink.
Nicholas Kári.