The HaRT Knight Decaverse

Heir of Magic

Chapter 42

Siege Warfare

The adrenaline in Alexander’s system vanished and the world that had been too bright and loud a second ago fell out of focus. Everything in his peripheral vision was a blur and all the sounds were muffled. His body suddenly ached and his legs barely had the strength to keep him upright. He struggled for a moment to get his sword back into its scabbard, his grip weak and his hand shaking.
“Commander Alexander!” Delphi yelled in his ear and reality snapped back into focus.
“What?” Alexander said.
“I asked you what happened to him?” Delphi pointed at the bloody and unconscious King Johan.
“The idiot got seven brave men killed,” Alexander said and strode off away from the shouts of indignation.
Ignoring the gasps and outcries from outraged soldiers, Alexander turned and strode away. He thought, how can such a selfish fool demand so much loyalty?
“Brother, wait,” Merrick said, catching up with him. He didn’t show any signs of exhaustion but blood flecked his face and hair. “What do we do now?”
Alexander closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm and focus his mind before he decided what was to happen next. Sounds and images began to come back into focus as Alexander forced his tired senses to keep going.
“Tell them to move the injured to the medical camps,” Alexander said. “Tell the rest of the men to get some rest, they deserve it.”
Merrick darted away to give the orders and Alexander made his way through the second pair of gates. Cries of congratulations greeted him from the soldiers inside the walls. To them, returning from such a battle was a great honor, something legends were made of. Alexander moved past them, and the torch-lit tent entrances.
Outside the war council Dante still stood in the casting site, two soldiers on either side of him helping to keep the staff above his head. The ancient wizard stared up at the sky with intense concentration as he murmured the mnemonic devices to help him remember how to cast the spell.
“Ah, our brave heroes return,” the General with the gray temples said as Alexander stepped into the War Council’s tent.
Eight of the remaining eleven generals were grouped around Kohr who leaned over the map of the battlefield, studying it intently. He looked up for a second and asked, “Where is Uthor?”
Alexander shook his head. “He didn’t make it.”
At this, everyone in the room gasped. Kohr looked up with a scowl on his face.
“How?” the oldest-looking General in the room asked as he sank back into a chair.
“He fell to an arrow shot by the Black General.” Alexander grit his teeth and added, “I don’t mean to speak ill of the dead, but Uthor’s stubborn desire to keep the horn of retreat with himself almost cost us the city. After he was shot, abominations overran his body and the horn, and his men had no way to communicate the grave danger they found themselves in.”
“I always told him that was a bad idea,” the oldest general said.
“What of the king?” Kohr asked.
“Him I do want to speak ill of, but I’ll restrain myself,” Alexander said. “He tried to face off against the Red General and got his bell rung. The Royal Guard all died to buy me enough time to get him behind the walls.”
“Where is he now?” a general with an imperial mustache asked, no trace of concern in his voice; but Alexander thought there was a trace of eagerness there.
“I left him with Delphi. He’s probably with a medico by now. I doubt he’ll be up in time to see the end of this battle,” Alexander said.
A strange ripple of excitement ran through the tent. The generals all shared a conspiratorial look and the one with the gray temples nodded before he said, “This might be an opportunity for us.”
Kohr, like Alexander, did not know what the eight old men were planning, and looked up from the table with a quizzical look on his face. “What are you suggesting, General Rodor?”
“To seize control of the city,” the general with the imperial mustache said.
Kohr’s emerald eyes seemed on fire as they scanned the faces of the men around the table. “What you’re suggesting, General Edric, is treason.”
“Is it really?” the oldest of the generals asked. “This council doesn’t serve the king, it serves Pensilisurbis. Can you really say that narcissist is good for the city?”
“In fact, it can be argued he is the biggest danger to it,” said a general with a gnarled, scarred face.
“And which one of you would rule in his place?” Kohr asked, danger evident in his voice.
The generals shared another look.
“None of us,” General Rodor said. “You are the most qualified person to take his place.”
“What?” Kohr snarled indignantly. “I am no king.”
“Really? Because you’ve been doing his job for him since you arrived in the city,” said the oldest of the generals. “For years it has been all this council could do to keep the king from bringing the city to ruin. Then you showed up, and despite that self-important man-child’s attempts to get in your way, you’ve brought Pensilisurbis back to its former glory.”
Kohr breathed slow and hard, doing his best to keep his temper under control. Through gritted teeth, he said, “I will not assassinate an unconscious man for a role I don’t even want. We will talk no more of this.” He turned to Alexander. “Tell us everything that happened on the battlefield.”
Alexander nodded and began to relay everything with the exact precision that Kohr had taught him to use.
“Very well, Commander Alexander. You may rest now. Arc’han knows, you deserve it,” Kohr said, looking dejectedly at his map as he moved the pieces around.
Alexander nodded and strode out of the tent. Dante was still muttering, but the soldiers helping him keep his staff above his head had changed. The young boy that looked after the horses stood wide-eyed before the wizard, staring nervously with a vial of golden liquid clutched in his hand. Dante paused in his muttering, and the boy jumped forward with the vial. He poured as much as he could down the wizard’s throat. Dante shook himself, then continued his muttering with renewed vigor.
“I’ll take the little that remained, boy,” Alexander said as the boy stared at the remaining golden liquid.
The boy nodded and handed the invigoration draught to Alexander. He thanked him and downed the remaining liquid. Instantly he felt the lead weights fall from his muscles as the potion began to spread warmly through his body.
Alexander looked up at Dante; their eyes met for a split second in an unspoken comment that passed between them. Both of them nodded to one another in a signal of acknowledgment they were okay and glad the other was as well.
Alexander moved to the wall, his newfound energy making the concept of sleep unnecessary.
“Commander Alexander? What are you doing up here?” the pig-faced General Darras asked.
“Just came to see how things are going up here,” Alexander said, inclining his head in greeting.
“All’s well,” Darras said. “We watched you from up here. You were very impressive.”
“Thanks.” Alexander moved to stand close enough to look over the wall at the approaching army.
From the top of the wall, the abomination force was a lot more intimidating. A boulder from the other end of the wall suddenly flew through the air and struck a far-off siege tower. The tower crumbled in on itself as the stone crushed the wooden structure’s support beam.
“Impressive shot,” Alexander said.
“Good enough, but we seem to have a problem.” The general pointed at two siege towers that were a lot closer than any of the others. “Those two are past the catapult line so they’re too close for the catapults to take them down.”
Alexander stared at the two towers. If they reached the wall, it would be catastrophic, he thought and moved without comment to a nearby flag pole. He pulled the pole free from the stone and moved to where the siege tower would intercept with the wall.
“Here,” Alexander said and slammed the pole into the stone again. “Mark the spot where the other tower will meet with the wall, just like this, and I’ll take care of them.”
“How?” General Darras asked, looking skeptical.
“Trust me, General. You’ve seen what I can do on the battlefield. I have more tricks up my sleeve,” Alexander said and vanished down the stairs, taking them two at a time. When he reached the bottom, he almost immediately ran into the person he was looking for.
“Jared!” he called as he made his way to the gate.
The young blacksmith was carrying weapons and armor that he handed to the soldier Alexander recognized as the man he had promoted on the battlefield.
“Alexander!” Jared is sounding tired yet happy to see his friend.
“I need your help,” Alexander said, gesturing with his head in the direction of the gate.
Jared nodded and followed him out into the courtyard where soldiers were sleeping next to fires, the exhaustion of the battle leaving only the sturdiest among them still awake.
Alexander led the young cevarion to the side of the wall, then stared up at the top. The flag was hanging right above him.
“I’m a bit too tired to attempt this alone at the moment,” Alexander explained, his eyes still locked on the flag above.
“Attempt what?” Jared asked.
“I need you to open a hole in the wall, right here.” Alexander indicated with his fist to the point where he wanted the hole. “As big as a human head. And then close it again, immediately after I say so.”
“I can do that,” Jared nodded.
“Okay then, let’s do this,” Alexander smiled at Jared, then conjured a small flame in the palm of his hand.
Jared moved to the wall and breathing deeply. He stretched forward with both his hands and they entered the wall like it was nothing more than a mound of sand.
“One, two, three!” Jared said as he pushed down. The piece of wall slowly sank into the ground beneath, stone devoured by stone like it was nothing.
The gap in the giant wall revealed exactly what Alexander had expected to see.
An enormous wooden tower, being pulled forward by about ten trolls, slowly approached the wall, bringing its cargo of thousands upon thousands of abomination warriors closer.
“Not while I’m here,” Alexander said and raised the fire in his hand level with the hole in the wall. He closed his eyes for a second and drew directly from the same three sources he had used back in the desert. The flame took on the same sporadic patterns of freezing, speeding up, and slowing down as it had before. He let go of the Trinity Flame—as Silver had called it—and it launched with a sound akin to a crack of thunder.
One second the flame was in Alexander’s hand, the next, the siege tower was blown apart in a massive explosion of fire that even engulfed the trolls that had been pulling it.
“Now Jared! Close it!” Alexander yelled, and the cevarion obeyed. Jared pulled the sunken stone block back into place just before the wave of flames hit the wall.
“Good,” Alexander smiled at Jared. “You think you could manage that at least once more?”
“Sure.” Jared nodded.
Alexander stared up at the top of the wall again. When he spotted the other flag a few feet to their right, he led the way to it.
“Alexander?” Jared said tentatively.
“Yes?” Alexander looked down into the mousy face and saw that it looked thoughtful.
“Why didn’t you do this from the top of the wall? Take down the towers, I mean,” Jared asked.
Alexander smiled at the young boy. “Because it’s better to destroy the foundation and take down the entire thing than just destroying a part of it. From down here doing that is a lot easier,” Alexander explained.
Jared still looked thoughtful as if trying to make sense of it when they reached the second spot.
“Okay, here.” Alexander said. He lit another flame in the palm of his hand.
Jared once again opened the hole in the wall just like before, once again revealing the wooden siege tower before it. This tower was a lot closer than the previous one; this one was almost completely against the wall.
Once more, Alexander changed the properties of the flame in his hand and flung it forward, and again, the tower was blown apart in a massive explosion, but this time something was wrong. The storm of fire that had accompanied the destruction of the other tower did not appear this time. Instead, the flames were all being sucked up into a dimensional gate hanging in the air above where the tower had been.
“Close it, Jared,” Alexander said quickly.
“I can’t!” Jared shouted in distress.
“Why?” Alexander looked worried.
“Because I won’t let him!” the gravelly voice from the other side of the wall replied.
Alexander’s heart dropped into his stomach and he pulled his sword free from its scabbard. A giant hand was on the other side of the wall, slowly pushing the block of stone further down into the ground.
“Go, you scum!” the Red General shouted to the abominations next to him.
“Jared! Duck!” Alexander yelled as he sent an air arrow at the Red General. Upon impact, the ball of air exploded, sending the disfigured giant flying backward, but also, unfortunately, sending the abomination that was crawling through the wall flying through.
The abomination struck Alexander full in the chest, and they both went tumbling to the ground, Alexander’s sword flying free of his grip into some unknown direction.
There was a sound like a small avalanche as Jared finally closed the hole in the wall. Alexander tried to get back to his feet, but before he could do anything, cold steel pressed against his throat.
“You’re mine, demigod,” the abomination snarled in a barely comprehensible voice.
“No!” Jared shouted from behind it. The cevarion boy picked up Alexander’s dropped weapon. The moment Jared’s fingers closed around the hilt of the sword, however, a flare of white blasted itself free from his grip. The sword fell back to the ground where only one person could pick it up again.
“Jared!” Alexander yelled.
The abomination pressed his sword harder again his throat again and said, “No. You die now.”
A whistle and a thud followed the creature’s words, its eyes expanding in an expression of pain. It tipped forward and fell to the ground, a short sword protruding from its back.
“You all right, brother?” Merrick asked a few feet away.
“I’m fine, but Jared isn’t,” Alexander said, leaping forward to the unconscious blacksmith. Jared breathed slowly, but at least he breathed.
“He’s fine, I think he’s just—Don’t touch that!” Alexander yelled, just as Merrick was about to pick up his sword for him.
“What? Why not?” Merrick looked shocked.
Alexander made his way to the sword, picked it up, and replaced it into its scabbard. “I don’t think anyone else can touch it except for me,” he explained. “That’s what happened to Jared. He touched it, then there was this light, and he just fainted.”
“Well, that’s a useful trick for a sword to have,” Merrick commented as he pulled his scythe out of the dead abomination’s back. “Bloody Tartos, what happened there?”
Alexander turned to look at what Merrick was talking about. Where the hole in the wall had been before, there was now just a solid stone wall, but protruding from the stone was the arm and head of an abomination. It almost seemed to be part of the wall as it hung there, lifeless.
“Long story. I’ll explain while we take him to see a medico.” Alexander nodded at Jared.