Dark Shores of Salvation, page 39
part #3 of Travails of the Dark Mage Series
Father Vickor paused and glanced back. “They’re with me,” he told the sergeant who signaled for his men to allow them to pass.
The priest took a moment to pass among the wounded, assessing their injuries. None appeared life threatening though a few may lose a limb if not immediately seen to. He turned to James as he pointed to the storehouse.
“Get us set up in there,” he said. “I shall see to these then once all is in readiness, we’ll tend the wounded there.” He handed James the mirror.
James took it and allowed a small grin to show. “Yes, sir,” he said as he and the knifers made for the storehouse.
“But we have all that is needed here,” the sergeant argued. “There is no reason….”
He tapered off as Father Vickor turned to him and said, “Ill humors find their way into a broken body best when wind blows them in. Within the storehouse, the walls will keep the ill humors out.”
The sergeant had no reply for that and so just bobbed his head.
Father Vickor went to the bedside of a man who had suffered a grievously deep cut along his forearm. Summoning the power of Morcyth, he set to work.
Four soldiers accompanied them to the storehouse and James had them wait outside while they assessed what needed to be done.
A large room filled with barrels, boxes and stacks of cloth greeted them upon entry. Once the door was closed, James summoned his orb to dispel the shadows lurking in the back. Therein they found an iron bound wooden door.
“Check that,” he said and Jiron went to see where it led.
Then to Tinok, “See if there are any lanterns.”
The knifer checked a few boxes and found a score. He also located a cask of oil and soon had half a dozen lit and placed about the room.
James set the mirror down on a box and brought into focus the enemy outside the gate. They remained pretty much in the same position they had before.
“Looks like they are waiting for something.”
Jiron appeared from the back. “Small room full of crates and boxes.”
“Is there enough room for us?” James asked.
Nodding, Jiron replied, “Should be. Will be tight though.”
James accompanied him to the back room. Tight was an understatement. Crates were stacked to the ceiling along all walls with several stacks of lesser height filled the middle. It hadn’t been a large room to begin with.
With Tinok’s help, they removed enough crates to leave a two-crate stack in the middle with just enough space to walk around it. James set the mirror upon the two-crate stack. He summoned magic and the enemy came into view.
The man in leathers stood at the fore, facing the gate. Behind him was the head priest with the remaining priests. Between what he had done with the water and Azhan with the bolts and spears, their number had been reduced by a third. Still, many remained.
“What are they waiting for?”
James glanced to his friend. “I don’t know.” Paused a moment then added, “Wish I did.”
He had the sack with the remaining power crystals on a crate next to him. He looked through them and wished there were more. Taking two, he set spells within them and handed them to Jiron.
“When I tell you, toss those out in the courtyard.”
Jiron took them as he nodded.
Tinok went out from the small room and darted back in quickly.
“Father Vickor is getting set up out there,” he announced.
Soldiers hauled crates out while others brought in cots. Father Vickor appeared, his clothes stained red in places.
“Set them up there,” he said to a sergeant of the guard as he pointed to one side.
As more crates were taken out, cots formed rows. Then the wounded began to arrive.
James hurried to the priest.
“We’ll be in the back room,” he said with a nod to the door.
Father Vickor looked tired. “Do what you must. I shall be busy beyond measure.” Sighing, he took in the wounded men that the earlier assault had generated. Even once the cots were filled, still more waited entry.
James laid a hand on his shoulder. “Morcyth be with you.”
“He better be,” Father Vickor said then Morcyth’s glow sprang to life. Moving to the cotside of a man with a belly wound, he laid his hands upon him.
Moaning stopped, the man’s breathing grew regular and when the glow vanished, his stomach was like new.
James hadn’t realized he had stood transfixed watching Father Vickor work his healing until Jiron took hold of his arm.
“Something’s happening,” his friend whispered.
Hurrying to the back room, James went to the mirror.
Soldiers marched in squads of twenty toward where the priests waited. Already, six squads stood in formation behind the head priest, each squad with a priest at the fore. Those six priest-led squads lined up in a row behind the head priest centered behind the man in leathers. Then once those six were in position, another line of six priest-led squads formed behind them, then another. When they were done, six columns of ten priest-led squads stood in perfect formation.
“What are they doing?”
James glanced to Jiron. “If they are going to do what I think they are going to do, this is going to get real bad, real quick.”
The man in leathers started for the gates; his two swordsmen attendants walked to either side and two steps behind. The head priest remained where he had been with his priest-led squads arrayed in formation behind him.
Atop the wall, Miko and Azhan waited to see what the man in leathers would do.
Scrolling the image slightly, he found Shorty, Scar and Potbelly just down the wall from the pair. They, too, watched the approaching men. Their coils of rope lay nearby.
When the man in leathers came within crossbow range, a hail of bolts descended upon him. None reached their target, an invisible dome of power protected the trio.
“He’s a priest too.”
“So it would seem,” James replied. His walkie-talkie construct sprang into being beside him as another formed next to Miko.
Miko noticed it. “The sun will be up soon,” he said.
The sky to the east glowed with the coming dawn.
“Shorty, Scar and Potbelly are standing ready with rope,” the walkie-talkie said. “When I tell you, get to them and down off the wall.”
Miko nodded.
“But not before I tell you.”
“Master,” Azhan said, “I can help.”
“You can help best by doing what I tell you.”
“Yes, Master.”
“Looks like their heat weapons are going to sit this one out,” Miko said.
Every priest weapon that James hadn’t completely destroyed had been removed back to the main encampment.
“They dare not risk them.” James couldn’t help but feel a little bit of satisfaction at that.
The man in leathers came to a halt. His swordsmen attendants stopped two paces behind.
Miko braced for an attack, but the man simply stood there.
Then, the sun broke over the horizon.
The man in leathers drew his sword as he brought forth the golden glow of Gyomias.
Behind him, the head priests, and the sixty priests behind him also called for the power of their god. The entire area before the gate nearly supplanted the radiance of the sun; so intense was the summoned power.
“Here we go,” James said as he took a pair of crystals. He glanced to Jiron. “Be ready to toss those.”
Jiron held the two crystals that earlier James had given him. Nodding, he replied, “Just say when.”
“In the name of the Lord Gyomias,” the man in leathers shouted, “lay down your arms and embrace him.”
Azhan glanced to Miko.
“A show of force would not be out of line.”
Nodding, Azhan raised his arms and hurled a fireball down upon them.
A beam of golden light flared from the man’s sword and shattered the fireball as if it was nothing.
“So be it!” the man in leathers shouted.
James latched onto the power of the two crystals and created a shield around Miko and Azhan just as another beam of golden light struck. It hit with such power that one crystal in his hand shattered from the power drain.
“Now!” he yelled to Jiron.
James created a leach line toward the sack of crystals just as the second one shattered. He couldn’t do this piecemeal, such was the power striking the shield that he needed access to all their power, continuously, or the shield would surely fail.
Jiron raced through the wounded of the outer room and out the door. He was momentarily awed by the glow coming from the top of the gate. James’ shield surrounding Miko and Azhan blazed like a white hot ember; the glow of Gyomias formed a brilliant nimbus around them. The confluence of the two was beautiful beyond measure. But then purpose returned and he threw the crystals.
They bounced and rolled unnoticed among the feet of soldiers transfixed by what was happening atop the gate. When they came to rest, dark red smoke poured from each.
Soldiers stumbled back to create a wide area around each pillar of smoke.
From within the two smoke pillars emerged short, stocky creatures with red eyes, twin spiraling horns and claws that could rend the flesh from a man in a single pass. The two demonic creatures eyed the soldiers standing closest, emitted a low, guttural growl that seemed to promise sudden and quick death.
The soldiers drew their weapons and backed away.
Then a second pair emerged, followed by a third. They advanced quickly toward the soldiers and the men fell back.
As the fourth pair emerged, the first pair raced toward the wall. Soldiers scattered from their path as if their life depended on it. Upon reaching the wall, they began to climb.
Fireballs flew from the top of the wall to knock them off. Fire erupted throughout the courtyard as more fireballs shot from the general vicinity of Miko and Azhan to destroy the other creatures that had emerged from the pillars of red smoke.
The courtyard was total pandemonium and quickly cleared of soldiers. Smoke from the various fires clouded the scene.
“That did it,” Jiron said even though he knew his friend was too engrossed with the proceedings atop the wall.
Sweat dripped from James’ brow as he sought to maintain the shield protecting Miko and Azhan. In the mirror he saw the priests leading the twenty-men squads turn toward those they led.
“Get off the wall!” his walkie-talkie shouted.
Scar, Potbelly and Shorty were already ready. As soon as the enemy priests’ magic had struck they had secured the ropes.
Miko and Azhan scrambled from behind the protective shield and hurried along the wall to where the Pit Masters waited.
James’ walkie-talkie altered shape to that roughly resembling Azhan. It raised its arms as if it was the Hero of Abu Dar.
“Come on!” Scar hollered as he waved them forward.
Three coils of ropes flew over the side of the wall to dangle down to the courtyard below.
Azhan came to Potbelly who helped him start down. Scar did the same with Miko.
They glanced to the smoke-filled courtyard below and the few remaining fires still raging.
“James gave you cover to hide your retreat.”
Miko nodded and grabbed the rope. Slipping over the edge, he started down.
“Shorty,” Scar yelled, “you go with them. Make sure they make it to the temple.”
The knifer glanced to where James’ shield glowed with fierce intensity. “That’s not going to hold!”
“We’ll follow,” Scar said.
Miko and Azhan had started down.
“Now get going!”
Shorty nodded, grasped the rope and rappelled down.
“Are you going to make it?”
James nodded. “If the enemy does nothing more, I can hold until they are down.”
“Good,” began Jiron. “They won’t take… By the Gods!” he exclaimed. “What are those?”
Eight creatures appeared in the sky above Abu Dar. Eight winged, silver bear cubs with golden eyes, Gyomar, servants of Gyomias, sailed effortlessly through the air to form a wide circle high above James’ shield. They defied the laws of physics as they hovered, their wings unfurled, opened and worked not at all to keep them in place.
“I don’t know,” James replied.
The Gyomar’s wings caught the morning light and blazed forth with the golden power of Gyomias.
Down on the ground, the priests leading twenty-man squads enveloped their men with priestly magic.
“Scar!” Potbelly yelled just as Scar swung his legs over the wall and started the climb down.
Pausing, Scar looked up to see the Gyomar with their magical glows. What was about to follow became very clear.
“Damn!” They were too close!
Potbelly gave him a hand and pulled him back to the top.
The priests leading the squads drew magic from those under their command and sent it to the high priest who in turn channeled it toward the man in leathers.
Crystals shattered as James drew every bit of power left in them to bolster the protective shield. He then added one more spell and steeled himself for the attack. He prayed his friends had gotten off that wall.
Raising his sword, the man in leathers sent a massive blast of priestly magic toward James’ shield; simultaneously, the eight Gyomar sent down waves of power.
Nine golden beams of power struck James’ shield with such force that the shield exploded in a massive fireball.
The blow sent a backlash of power that knocked James unconscious, though not before his final spell took hold of some of that power and sent it down into the wall.
Scar and Potbelly hadn’t made it far along the top of the wall by the time the attack struck. The destruction of the shield sent a shockwave that knocked them from their feet. It propelled Potbelly toward the edge of the wall but he stopped short of slipping over.
Then a second explosion, more powerful than the first, rocked the wall as James’ last spell took effect. Stone erupted outward in all directions and the wall lurched, throwing Potbelly toward the edge. As he slipped over the side, he drew his knife and managed to wedge the blade in a crack to stop his fall. Just as he came to rest hanging over the lip, Scar screamed as he went over right beside him.
Potbelly reached out with his other hand and snagged Scar’s ankle. Scar didn’t stop screaming until he slammed upside down into the wall beneath Potbelly. Holding his friend’s ankle, Potbelly hung from the top of the wall.
A loud rumble preceded the toppling of the wall on the other side of where the Gyomars’ attack struck.
Hanging upside down, Scar watched it fall to disappear in the smoke and haze filling the courtyard. The concussion of it slamming into the cobblestones below could be felt all the way up where they dangled precariously.
“That was close,” Scar said, then gave a nervous laugh.
“Get your ass up!” Potbelly demanded. Scar’s weight was nearly more than he could hold. Plus, he could feel his grip on the knife was less than ideal. He didn’t know how much longer he could maintain it.
Without a reply, Scar bent double and grabbed his own trousers. Then working up them hand over fist, he reached Potbelly’s arm.
“Just take it easy,” Potbelly warned.
“Trust me,” Scar said.
“Do I have a choice?”
Scar pulled himself up first by climbing along Potbelly’s arm, then his shirt, then his trousers. Once he could grasp the top of the wall, he worked himself up.
Sounds of fighting arose from the courtyard below. The toppling of the wall section had provided them an opening. The enemy had gained the city.
Reaching down, he took Potbelly by the hand and pulled him up.
“Thanks,” Potbelly said as he laid atop the wall for a moment to still the trembling in his limbs.
“It’s I who should be thanking you,” Scar said as he sat down next to his friend. “I thought for sure I was dead.” He paused a moment. “That was fast thinking.”
Potbelly glanced to his friend and chuckled. “Probably would have done the world a favor had I let you fall.”
Scar laughed, but it was a short-lived laugh for the wall lurched beneath them. They held on as the wall slowly tilted inward. Just as the other section of wall had done, the one upon which they perched was about to topple to the courtyard below.
“Come on!” Scar yelled as he scrambled to climb up to reach the outer edge of the wall.
The wall shuddered then came to a stop.
They reached the outer edge of the wall, which considering how the wall tilted was now the top. Twenty feet from where they clung, the rest of the wall continued to stand tall and strong. The outer edge of where they stood now lined up with the inner edge of the main wall. If they could make it that far, they might be able to regain the safety of the main wall before their section collapsed altogether.
“We can do this.”
Potbelly nodded. “Take it slow, Scar.”
Scar shifted his weight to begin working toward the main wall. The wall shuddered and slipped a little bit farther. He came to a stop and the wall ceased its inward movement.
He tried it again and got a few more feet before the wall gave out with a mighty crack and it started to fall with a vengeance.
“Hang on!” Scar yelled.
The wall picked up speed as it fell inward. A storehouse down below stood in its path. The wall slammed into it and nearly caused the pair to lose their grips. The impact halted the wall’s topple for a moment, but then the storehouse imploded and the wall continued its descent.
“There!” Potbelly yelled as he directed Scar’s gaze to a three-storied building before them. It looked like the top of the wall upon which they clung would ultimately slam against it. “Second balcony.”
