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I don’t think we can hold them much longer.” Sweat soaked Allyn’s blonde hair, but he appeared unharmed. That alone seemed a miracle in the midst of the pitched battle. As promised, the Kyrinians had attacked at dawn and had not relented since.
Larris looked across the battlefield at the enemy forces which were already rallying for another charge. Just beyond their ranks, siege towers were being wheeled into place. A bad situation was about to get worse.
The Galdorans had fought bravely, bleeding the Kyrinians in every clash. The veterans they had culled from the ranks of refugees provided solid leadership, strengthening the resolve of their less-experienced comrades. They used their defenses to good effect, but their own losses were taking their toll. A few of the enemy, carrying scaling ladders, had actually surmounted the walls on the last attack. If they came again in force, he doubted the defenders could hold them back this time.
“I want the catapults firing for all they’re worth as soon as the siege engines are in range. We have got to bring them down,” he ordered.
“They will go for the gates at the same time—both the main and the postern.” Rayburn cleared his throat and spat over the wall. “They’ll spread us thin and look for any opportunity to break through. Once they get a toehold in the city...” He didn’t need to finish his sentence. Without the walls for protection they would quickly succumb to Kyrinian’s superior numbers.
Larris looked up and down the ramparts, appreciating for the first time how severely their ranks had been depleted. New faces had appeared to take up the defense of the city: old men, young boys, and women. None of them should have been needed to fight, but everyone seemed to understand this was their last chance. He had been pleasantly surprised to find virtually no dissension in the ranks. Given their present circumstances, he had expected more people to advocate surrender. The Galdorans’ deep-seated hatred and distrust of the Kyrinians appeared to have won out.
No sooner had that thought passed through his mind than a loud voice rang out from somewhere close by.
“We must surrender! Surrender or we will surely die!”
Larris looked around and saw a man in Temple robes walking along the battlements. The defenders watched him go by and Larris could tell by the expressions on their faces that some of them were close to following his instructions.
“Someone needs to close his mouth,” Larris said. His patience with the Temple was at an end.
Allyn drew his bow and took aim at the priest.
“Not like that.” Larris pushed the bow down. “Not everything I say is a direct order.”
“I’ll remember that.” Allyn lowered his bow.
Larris managed a smile and shook his head
The priest’s gaze fell upon Larris and his eyes widened. He pointed a bony finger in the prince’s direction.
“You! What have you done with the archpriest? Where is he?”
“The archpriest is performing his duties as a member of the Regis,” Allen shouted. “You should be about your duties as well. There are wounded who need your care.” The temple priests had been helping to care for the wounded.
“There would be no wounded if you would see reason. We cannot fight so many. Your hubris will kill us all.”
“You want to surrender?” Larris asked. “Very well.” He turned to Rayburn. “Put him in a catapult and send him to the Kyrinians so that he may negotiate surrender terms.” The priest blanched, turned, and ran. Larris laughed, but he had no time to savor his small victory.
“Everyone down!” Rayburn shouted.
The Kyrinian’s war machines had opened fire again. Huge boulders hurtled through the air, crashing against the city walls. One struck close to where Larris stood. He felt the ground quake beneath his feet and shards of broken stone flew through the air, peppering him with tiny, sharp fragments. Under cover of the attack, the siege engines rolled forward, supported by the mass of Kyrinian troops.
“Archers hold your fire!” Rayburn shouted as a few nervous defenders released arrows that fell well short of their intended targets. “Wait until they are in range. I will give the order.”
The Galdorans catapults opened up. One managed to find its target, smashing a siege engine. A cry of alarm went up from the Kyrinian ranks as the siege engine toppled into their tightly-packed ranks. The other catapults missed their targets but the boulders they hurled tore holes in the Kyrinian line, holes that were immediately filled by more soldiers. As the siege engines drew within bow range, the defenders sent flaming arrows at their targets. Some found purchase in the wooden towers and began to smolder.
In response, the Kyrinian archers raked the wall with their own hail of arrows. Cries of pain up and down the line told Larris that some had found their marks. With a roar, the front ranks of the Kyrinian troops charged forward. Though the enemy archers continued to fire, the defenders stood bravely, giving back as good as they got. All along the line, Kyrinian soldiers fell. Larris grimaced at the bloody work.
“Ladders!” Someone shouted
The first rank of Kyrinians had reached the wall and were throwing up siege ladders. The defenders immediately responded. Women and children tossed stones and any other heavy objects they could find down onto the attackers while men used long poles to push the ladders away from the walls. Larris saw a young woman raise a burning oil lamp above her head, ready to fling it down onto the enemy when an arrow took her in the throat. She collapsed without making a sound, a look of surprise filling her dying eyes. The lamp shattered, spilling burning oil all-around. Larris turned away, wincing. It was not the first tragic death he had seen during the battle, nor would it be the last
Though none of the soldiers bearing ladders had breached the walls, they had served their purpose, occupying the defenders so that the siege towers could be rolled into place. Three towers had made it across the battlefield intact and now their doors fell open, forming drawbridges that led onto the city walls. The sounds of hand-to-hand fighting rose up all around as defenders were forced to abandon their posts in order to meet this new threat. Down below, a thunderous crash told Larris that the enemy was also battering at the front gates. They wouldn’t last much longer
“Your Highness!” A young man in the uniform of a city guard ran up to him, made a hasty bow, and dropped to one knee.
“There’s no time for that! What is it?”
“The enemy broke through the postern gate. We drove them back and got it closed again.”
“Then why are you telling me? We have a battle to fight.”
“The enemy didn’t actually break through. Some of our own opened the gate for them. They were men from the temple.” He paused and drew in a long, ragged breath. “They were shouting something about it being time for the Seven to give way to the One.”
Larris didn’t have time to suss out exactly what that meant. Save for the fact that he now had proof that the Temple was on the Kyrinian side.
“Our officers are dead and the one they call “Hair” is in charge. He wants to know your orders.”
“Tell him to hold a few of the temple men for questioning, and kill anyone else who even looks like he is attempting to aid the enemy. Take no further prisoners.”
The youth gave a single nod, hopped up, and dashed away.
“Not that it will matter,” Larris muttered. He could no longer deny it. The battle was almost over, and they had lost.
Somewhere in the distance a horn sounded its tinny note. Probably Kyrinian reinforcements. He looked around at the defenders who now fought with desperation against the men who had breached the walls. He saw Hierm run a man through, kick the body off of his sword, and turn to face two more Kyrinians. Beside him, Rinala, clad in her Monaghan garb, fought with two long knives.
He had led them all to their deaths. Had the priest been right? Was it his hubris that had brought him them to this end? Should he have agreed to the enemy’s terms? He supposed it didn’t matter now. Tightening his grip on his sword, he strode into the thick of the fight. If he was to die, he would take as many Kyrinians with him as he could
The horn sounded again, this time closer. Someone grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. It was Allyn. His friend was shouting something, but Larris could not make it out, so great was his rage and battle lust. He shook his head and tried to focus.
“What do you say?”
This time, Allyn’s words swam through the fog in Larris’ mind.
“It’s Lerryn!”
Larris looked in the direction Allyn pointed and let out a triumphant shout. A new army had appeared on the horizon, and though he could not see the face of its leader, he could make out the banner of the White Fang, Lerryn’s elite unit.
“Van Derin told us that Lerryn had gathered only a modest force, a ragtag one at that,” Allyn said. “But those are regular troops, and plenty of them. How is it possible?
“I don’t care. What matters now is that we hold the city. We can’t give up now.” As loudly as he could, he cried out, “Prince Lerryn has arrived! We are saved! Fight! Fight for your prince and rightful king!” Sword held aloft, he ran along the walls shouting words of encouragement. Behind him, he could hear Allyn doing the same. Soon the defenders echoed his cries and the message ran along the walls ahead of him until he no longer needed to spread the word himself.
Heartened by this stroke of good fortune, the defenders struck back with vigor. The attack began to falter. Down below, the Kyrinians heard the war horns and were now aware of a new army at their backs. Larris watched as their officers attempt to rally the troops to meet this new threat.
The newly-arrived Galdoran army closed in. Arrows flew and black and gold-clad men fell. The two forces closed in on one another, and as the Galdoran foot soldiers charged into the ranks of Kyrinian’s, a contingent of cavalry broke away, circled the Kyrinian flank and swept along the wall, driving the attackers away from the front gate. Another unit veered off in the opposite direction, most likely heading for the postern gate.
Their main force now caught between the city walls and a superior force of Galdorans, the Kyrinians, who had seemed on the verge of taking the city, began to drop their weapons and call for surrender. A tumult arose along the city walls as the defenders rejoiced. Larris caught Allyn up in a rough embrace, and then turned to clasp hands with Rayburn, who scrubbed his teary eyes with a bloody sleeve. He saw Hierm and Rinala embrace, and relief flooded him that his friends have survived. He hoped Hair and Edrin had survived the fight at the rear gate.
Down below, he spotted Lerryn looking up at the walls and when their eyes met his brother grinned and raised his sword in salute. The defenders began to shout Lerryn’s name, singing the praises of the prince who had rescued them in their direst hour. Larris smiled. His brother would be a beloved king.
The tenor of the chant began to change. Larris felt hands grabbing him, and then he was hoisted up into the air. He realized that the people who are no longer calling Lerryn’s name, but his own.
“Come on, Larris,” Allyn chided. “At least give them one smile.”
Relief flooding through him, Larris raised his fists above his head and cried out in exultation. They had done it!