Fiction: 'Assault at South Wall', part 2
Wind whipped the orchards around Kryesor as he neared the outskirts
of town. In the distance, he could see townsfolk scurrying to and fro,
making last minute preparations for the imminent storm front. They knew
it was going to be a rough storm, but they had no idea how rough.
Exhausted from the run as he was, he pushed his body into another
sprint: every second would count – he knew without a doubt those
creatures were on his trail. The image of the old man’s head, its empty
eyes blindly glaring, kept leaping unbidden to his mind, and the smell
of the blood drenching his side had pervaded his very being such that it
was like he had drunk a pint of it, so thick was the sickly taste in
his mouth.
As he approached the simple earth wall of the town, a guard –
Kryesor couldn’t remember his name – peeked over, then disappeared as he
bustled to open the heavy wooden gate. Stopping to wait for the gate to
open, Kryesor was overcome by a wave of exhaustion. He had pushed
himself beyond his limit with that run and he collapsed to the ground as
his vision swam and became murky. The guard, seeing Kryesor slumped
over, obviously dazed, and with a dark patch of blood all down his right
side, called frantically for help.
‘Quickly, bring help! Call for the Rudhyrim!’ he shrieked, before
frantically moving over to help comfort the apparently dying Kryesor.
Echoing calls for the older healing-woman bounced to and fro about the
town. The guard did not know what to say as he tried to ease Kryesor
back, simply making stunned, desperate, helpless noises. Kryesor himself
was too dazed, his head swimming and his belly churning, to correct the
guard’s mistake. He rolled slightly to his side and vomited. The guard
called out again in an even more panicked voice.
‘Quickly! Help!’
In the distance a portly, middle-aged woman dressed in warm folds
of drab, concealing robes, rounded the corner of a thatched longhouse
and bustled her way over, rummaging in a leather bag as she moved,
busily searching for something or other. Townsfolk looked at her and
began to follow her over, at a short, though respectful distance, their
faces whitish and drawn in growing anxiety.
‘Let me see, let me see,
dear.’ she said as she approached the guard and Kryesor. As she leant
over to crouch beside the terminal patient she paused.
‘What is all this fuss about?’ she asked, a suddenly sharp note in her voice.
‘Kryesor, he’s… he’s dying, mother Sendoshe!’ The guard replied frantically.
‘Bah, he’s doing no such thing, boy. Hush your whimpering,’ she
said, turning to the crowd. She drew breath to shout something, but was
interrupted by the guard.
‘But mother, look at the blood! Look at his pale face! Quickly, do something!’ he said.
She merely snorted in response. ‘Somebody get me a pail of
water,’ she shouted. As the guard looked up at her in horror she dug
into her bag; taking out a strip of cured meat and taking a healthy
bite, she chewed on it with a contented look on her face. ‘Mmm’ she
hummed, savouring the taste. A small boy tottered through the crowd with
a full pail of water.
Taking the bucket, she thanked the child with a warm smie and a
soft pat on his head, then turned and dashed the contents over Kryesor
and the guard, drenching them in the icy-cold liquid. Both of them
shouted in surprise at the cold shock. Kryesor’s swimming vision came
sharply into focus, though it was still flashing with large, dark spots.
He looked up at the elder lady and smiled.
‘Thankyou for your kind ministrations, mother Sendoshe,’ he
managed, still panting from lack of breath and the added shock of the
water. She smiled, and with a small grunt of effort, knelt beside him.
‘Here, boy, chew on this. It’ll do you good,’ she said, handing
him the remainder of the dried meat. He nodded and took the food.
Turning to the sodden guard, he spoke ‘Thankyou for your help, ah…’
‘Kujdes’, the guard reminded him.
‘…yes, Kujdes. Thankyou. Could you help me again, and run to the
longhouse and ask the elders if they could prepare themselves for an
emergency meeting? And inform them I’ll be there in a few moments,’ he
said. The guard nodded eagerly and got up, hurrying off toward the
centre of town. ‘The rest of you,’ he continued, ‘quickly gather as many
of your possessions, food and family as you can and prepare a caravan.
We are going to need to move out in no more than a few hours.’
‘Hurry!’ he shouted, as they looked at each other quizzically.
‘Now!’ He shouted again, shocking them into action. The crowd broke up
and they all moved off purposefully, though a murmur of trepidation
rippled throughout.
Leaning on the elder woman’s arm for support, he gingerly
regained his feet and walked a little unsteadily after Kujdes toward the
longhouse. Kalama ran over and tackled his leg, holding him tightly,
with her arms and legs crossed tightly around his leg. He hobbled
onward, carrying the small child along.
‘Kal,’ he said softly, ‘I’ve got to go in here now’ he said as
they approached the longhouse, ‘I need you to find your mother and tell
her I said she needs to get as many of our things and food as possible
within an hour and to load it onto the cart, then meet out at the north
gate. Tell her to get Nyrn to help.’ Kalama merely squeezed his leg
tighter and shook her head slightly. ‘Come on Kal, I need you to help.
Mama needs you to help. Please?’ He said, stopping and leaning over to
lift up her chin to look at him. She said nothing, but released her
grip, sliding to the ground with a bump. ‘Good girl. I’ll see you over
at the gate soon.’ He said and lifted her up for a last hug. Putting her
back down on her feet, she turned and skipped off, without a word. He
watched her for a few seconds, and then strode into the warm shadows of
the longhouse with the Rudhyrim, Sendoshe, beside him.
Inside, three elderly Danaan, two men and a woman, sat at a
central long table, around the central hole where the small warm fire
flickered, sending a thin stream of whitish smoke drifting up to the
hole in the roof. The room had a warm glow about it and was thick with
comforting shadows. The dented shields and notched weapons of heroes
past decorated the walls and pillars. The elders looked up expectantly
at Kryesor as he entered.
‘Well, lad, what have you stirred up the entire town for? There’s
mass panic out there.’ The female elder said, clearly irritated. The
other two nodded and grunted in agreement. Kryesor sat at an end, while
Sendoshe patted him on the shoulder and trundled up to take her place
with the other elders.
‘Well, elders, I simply asked the people to gather what they
could together as fast as they could and be ready to evacuate the town
as soon as possible,’ he replied, in as even a tone as he could. He did
however wince, just a little, as he said it.
‘Oh, is that all? I don’t see why there’s such a fuss then. Whatever could they be panicking about?’ The older woman replied.
‘Alright, do you think I would make such an outlandish request if I didn’t have good reason?’
‘Oh, we’re quite sure you have good reason, we’re just wondering what it could possibly be...’
Kryesor laughed a little self-consciously. ‘Ah, yes, of course.
My apologies,’ he said, and relayed to them the tale of his experience
at Hymir’s stead, adding in summation that there would be more on the
way and the imminent need for evacuation. The elders sat patiently and
listened with wide eyes to his outlandish tale.
‘So,’ one of the male elders asked, speaking for the first time,
‘You saw a total of three of these ‘ice’ creatures in your adventure?’
he said, with a slight curling of an eyebrow.
‘Yes, elder. Three.’ Kryesor replied.
‘And from this, you deduced that the only possible outcome was a
mass invasion of some monstrous creatures no-one has ever seen or heard
of before?’ The elder continued. Kryesor looked at his feet and took a
deep breath. It didn’t take the craftiness of an Anijan Majishar to see
where this was headed.
Kryesor slowly began his defence. ‘Well, elder, while I did only
see three, I genuinely had the feeling that there were more – many more –
in the area.’ The elder moved to ask another question, but Kryesor
quickly kept speaking. ‘And the one thing that you and other elders have
taught me, that has stayed with me, is that a good warrior learns to
trust their feelings. ‘ The elder smiled a little to himself, pleased
with the compliment, and so Kryesor continued. ‘From what I saw of
Hymir’s stead, and what happened to Hymir himself, even if there were
but a few more of these… demons... they would pose a dire threat to this
settlement. I thought to take initiative and clear out the non-combat
townsfolk, so that our warriors could repel any assault without
distraction.’
‘So this evacuation is a precautionary matter?’ Sendoshe asked.
‘Yes, mother Sendoshe, exactly.’ Kryesor replied, taking the
helpful cue. ‘The key here is to provide a space for our warriors to be
able to fight to their fullest without having to worry about their
children and loved ones behind them. A distracted warrior is an
ineffective one.’ The Elders nodded ever so slightly. He began to speak
again, but the elders all held up a palm, motioning for him to be silent
while they conferred. ‘Excuse me a moment, elders,’ he said, and left
the longhouse to give them a moment to confer.
Stepping outside,
walked briskly his own house to check on the preparations being made.
Kalama was tottering with a box too big for her to carry. Spying her
father, she gritted her teeth and managed the heavy, cumbersome load as
best she could. From inside the house, Martua walked out in full armour.
In one hand she had a thin rope, which was attached to their two small
pigs. In the other she carried Kryesor’s sword. She nodded without a
word and threw him his weapon.
‘Looks like you could have done with this,’ she said as he caught
his weapon, ‘armour’s in the usual spot. What’s the problem? You
wouldn’t be this worried if it was just a cattle raid. Vrull getting big
for their boots again?’ She asked matter-of-factly, as she picked up
the livestock and threw them a little roughly onto the wagon. Kryesor
smiled and touched her shoulder.
‘No. Worse. I’ll tell you later when we’re preparing. Just came
by to make sure everything was good here. Have to head back. See you at
the gate when this is all set. Don’t forget your helmet this time.’
‘I didn’t forget it last time,’ Martua replied. ‘It hinders my
vision, as well as the draw. I chose not to bring it, just like I’m
choosing not to bring it this time. And don’t try to lecture me; you’re
the one who goes off on adventures without even taking a weapon. You
just worry about yourself.’
Kryesor laughed and moved inside to quickly don his armour. The
leather was well made and maintained, but light. From the look of how
poor Hymir and Llista ended up, and the sheer size of the talons on that
huge monster, he felt that this suit would be like paper. Still, he
thought as he secured the last few buckles, better than nothing.
Grabbing his helmet, he went back outside. Martua had already led the
cart off, with not a single word of goodbye. Sometimes she could be too
tough.
He headed back to the longhouse. The elders surely would have
finished deliberating by now. Entering the longhouse, the elders turned
as one to look at him.
‘What is the decision, elders?’ He asked.
Sendoshe spoke. ‘Well, boy, it would appear that you have made the decision already. We elders seem to be passengers here.’
Kryesor smiled a little apologetically, ‘well, if I offend, mother Sendoshe, I apologise.’
‘You’ll do no such thing.’ She answered. ‘We would suggest that
before we send everyone in whatever direction you had in mind, that it
might be a good idea to send some scouts to more fully assess the
situation for any future defence. What say you?’
He nodded. ‘Indeed. I will gather a few others and ride out now.’
‘Boy, you just ran yourself sick and have begun ordering an
evacuation and defence. Don’t spread yourself too thin.’ Sendoshe said.
‘I need to see with my own eyes what the threat is in order to more fully know what to do.’ He said.
‘Indeed.’ The male elder replied. ‘You best get moving. Gods’ speed.’
Kryesor turned and left the longhouse.
---
The mounts chafed and gnawed at their bridles behind three
prostrate figures lying on their bellies and gazing out over a wide, low
valley. Kryesor looked at the two Danaan with him. The face of his
spouse, Martua, had gone an ashen grey as she looked at the turbulent
mass of creatures in the small valley below them. The other, Skuqur, had
an equally pallid expression.
‘It is late summer. How is there snow, and such thick snow, on the ground there?’ Martua asked.
‘I do not know,’ Kryesor replied. ‘There was a light sheen of ice
on everything at Hymir’s stead. They must bring it with them somehow.’
‘Look how many there are…’ Skuqur, said, his voice trailing off
with a worried tone. Strangely, the creatures’ movements seemed to be
aimless; random milling about that gave an impression of a huge and dark
cloud right before it breaks into a storm, steadily building, yet also
somehow almost stationary.
‘Look!’ Martua said. ‘The ice - it’s, it’s moving…’ She pointed
towards the jagged edge of the ice carpet. Looking like pointed, ragged
claws, the rim of the ice seemed to be slowly, slowly edging its way
northward, toward them.
As they watched, fascinated, and while the ice moved relentlessly
onward, clawing more and more land beneath it, the creatures themselves
seemed to change their movements suddenly. ‘They’ve stopped wandering
around,’ Martua observed.
The creatures massed together, not quite in an organised
rank-and-file, but compared to the random maelstrom of movement before
it seemed orderly. Kryesor frowned.
‘They are forming up. They are preparing to move out. We need to
head back, they’re not very far from home at all.’ Just as he finished,
the creatures moved as one, lurching and leaping forward in what could
loosely be termed as ‘in unison’. Kryesor and the other two crawled back
to their tethered mounts, untied, mounted and rode hard back to town.
No one said a word on the ride.
---
Two guards took the mounts away as the three dismounted. ‘Skuqur,
can you go to the north gate and make sure preparations are ready for
the caravan to leave?’ Kryesor said. ‘Send word to me around here, I’ll
be somewhere…’ He shouted after the warrior as he ran off.
‘You know what to do.’ He said to Martua. She nodded and jogged
off to prepare the defenders. Kryesor briefly watched her go and then
headed off to the longhouse to brief the elders.
---
The wind had reached a howling gale, and the southern storm front
loomed, ominously silent and somehow almost inert, more like a painting
of a storm cloud than the real thing. The gale died down for a moment,
only to be replaced by a distant, faint and echoing sound of a tortured
bellow from the direction of the storm. It carried, on the tail of the
wind-gust, the sound of a screeching, eerie conch. The guards on the
wall peered over the rim and each wished for the howling wind to return,
so it would drown out whatever that unsettling sound was.
Martua had ordered her group of Harkar to take their bows and
form into two rows along the flanks of the wall either side of the
southern gate, to give a wide field of fire. They stared at the distant
cloud, each with a hand on their quiver. She then jogged over to
Kryesor, as he stood in a circle with his own group of warriors, each
fiddling with their axes a little nervously. Kryesor was quietly
talking to them as she approached. He held up his hand, motioning for a
moment of silence from her as he finished.
‘… and remember, stick by your brother. Have faith in your
brother. You all know what to do; you’ve all been in battle before. Now,
go and encourage the rest of our fighters. This is not some cattle
raid, they need your expertise.’ He nodded to signal them to head off.
The task he had set them would help steady their nerves. This handful of
warriors were the only contingent of full-time soldiers the town could
support, if they were to survive here, Kryesor knew that they needed
those warriors to be at their very best. Busy hands would quiet
over-active minds and help them focus.
‘So what do you think?’ Martua finished. Kryesor had missed the
entirety of her question. He looked at her a little puzzled. She gave
out an annoyed noise, aware he hadn’t heard a word she had said.
‘Contingency plan?’ She said, a little louder than necessary. ‘What do
you think about having some oil barrels ready to burn the town, should
we need to fall back, to provide a barrier for us to get some distance?’
Kryesor let out a deep breath in recognition of the plan. She was
ruthless, but she was right. No one had any idea what these things were
capable of. Being made of ice as they apparently were, this was a
necessary precaution. She jabbed him a little roughly with her bow.
‘Wake up!’ she said with a smile.
‘Yes… yes, you’re right. I’ll get on it now. Do your Harkar need
anything else?’ He said, with his hand on her shoulder. She looked at
him with concern – it felt more like he was holding himself up on her
than trying to comfort her.
‘No,’ she said, patting his hand, ‘we have everything. I got some
pitch for our arrows. If these things are made of ice as you said, then
they’re in for a surprise,’ she said with a grin. Kryesor laughed, and
smiling back at her, headed off to organise the oil.
There was so much to organise.