Ring of the Or'tux, page 46
Larus noted Father Thomas’ appearance. Gesturing to Hunter he asked, “What is he doing?”
Suddenly, the crowd before him opened and he resumed his way. Walking at a steady pace, the crowd continued to part before him almost as if it was a choreographed ballet. When Hunter approached, the people parted.
Father Thomas heard Larus mutter a word that sounded like ‘Ftheril’ though he couldn’t be certain.
Those following after Hunter were not so fortunate. For once Hunter passed, the hallway returned to its former, congested state. Larus and Garin were at times forced to use less than gentle means in order to keep Hunter in sight. An elbow here, a shove there, though nothing too unpleasant for the people in their way. Father Thomas followed through the wake they created.
Once he emerged from the temple, Hunter’s step quickened. It didn’t appear as if he was completely conscious as he made his way through the streets. He moved in almost a completely straight line toward the wall, the only obstacles he circumvented were buildings. Everything else moved of its own accord out of his path.
The city was in complete disarray. Fires burned unchecked in multiple areas, people raced along the street in fear and panic. Fighting atop the southern wall was frenzied. Unlike the times before, flaming balls of pitch continued being launched over the walls as Ullentite soldiers scaled ladders. In one place the enemy had secured a foothold atop the wall and fighting was fierce as defenders fought to throw them back.
Wham!
The wall continued to be hammered by boulders.
Wham!
Again and again the wall shuddered under the relentless bombardment.
As they drew closer to the wall, the ramparts of the area under bombardment became clearer through the smoky haze covering the city. Most of the merlons which had stood when last they were upon the wall were shattered, some gone altogether. Men, stonemasons from the looks of it, worked furiously to repair the damaged wall. Arrows from enemy bowmen picked them off one by one until by the time Hunter reached the street running beneath the wall, they were gone.
It was utter pandemonium.
Wham!
High above their heads, a section of the wall blew apart. Screams filled the air as large sections of stonework rained down upon the people below. Men and women alike ran to get away, everywhere were the wounded and dying. Soldiers no longer able to fight had been carried this far before those who brought them down were forced to return for others. One man with a gash across his face was crushed to death when a stone the size of a small cart fell upon him.
But it was not only among the wounded. Even small children with arms in slings and bandaged wrapped heads stained a horrible red were seen here and there. There was no one free to take them from this place. All the free hands were upon the wall either fighting or removing those wounded that could be reached.
And through this all, Hunter walked. Neither seeing nor hearing the pleas of those by which he walked, his eyes were focused straight ahead toward some unfathomable point.
When it became clear his destination was to be the door of the guard house, Larus turned to Garin. “I’m going ahead to make sure he reaches the wall alive,” he said. “Stay with Father Thomas and keep him safe.”
“But you are going to need me,” he insisted. Indeed, the section of the wall whereupon the guard tower led was locked in furious battle. The enemy had established a foothold and more men were appearing atop the ladders every second.
“Stay with the Father!” he shouted as he raced past Hunter. A glance to Hunter’s eyes in passing revealed them to be glazed over.
Garin slowed and allowed Father Thomas to catch him. “Father?” he asked.
Nodding toward the tower’s door, the priest said, “We too must reach the top.” It is upon you to see him through until the end, the words of High Priestess Trystia echoed in his mind.
Larus was already within the tower working his way to the top, and Hunter’s backside was just passing through the door. “Let us hurry,” he told the young swordsman.
Wham! Wham!
The wall above them shuddered and masonry rained down. One ill fated hand-sized stone striking Father Thomas in the left shoulder, knocked him backward to the ground.
“Father!” Garin exclaimed. Moving to the priest’s side, he quickly pulled back Father Thomas’ robe to inspect the wound despite the priest’s protestations. Underneath he found an ugly black bruise that was beginning to swell.
“I am alright my son,” Father Thomas asserted. Offering his right hand he said, “Help me up. We must reach the top of the wall!”
“Are you sure you can make it?” Garin asked.
“We have to!” Father Thomas uncharacteristically shouted. “Now help me up!”
Taking the proffered hand, Garin helped the priest return to his feet.
Wham!
They had barely started for the door when another rain of masonry peppered them with a barrage of small, stinging stones.
“Quickly,” Father Thomas urged. Together, they raced for the tower door. Only feet away, the door swung shut of its own volition.
Garin immediately grasped the handle and tried to open it. “It won’t open!” he shouted.
“Don’t let them enter,” Daeson said to the Qyaendri holding closed the door.
“As you wish,” the Qyaendri replied.
Unseen by the pair before the tower door, scores of Casdralla’s Qyaendri worked to hold up the wall, preventing it from collapsing while on the opposite side, an equal number of Theroch’s Qyaendri strove to see it collapse. Both sides being bolstered by the prayers of their faithful into action.
Within the tower, one lone Qyaendri led a mortal through a waking dream toward the ramparts. He didn’t have long to get his mortal to the precise spot. A second late and everything would be for naught.
Wham!
The tower shook as this time, a catapult’s missile impacted against its outer side. Fissures spiderwebbed the outer wall and Ftheril had to keep his mortal from slipping from the steps and tumble to the bottom. Such a fall would bring their carefully laid plans to ruin. Once the shaking of the tower subsided, Ftheril worked to get his mortal moving once more.
Swords clashing and men swearing greeted Larus as he reached the tower’s upper door leading onto the wall. Not far from the other side of the door was the back of an embattled Cardri defender. Clash, clang, hack, the Cardri defender went down as the Ullentite’s sword, cleaved him from neck to breastbone. With the way to the tower’s door now clear, the attacker gave a mad shout of victory and bolted forward. He died before he could pass the threshold, Larus’ sword shot through the opening and impaled him.
More of the enemy surged forward as Larus moved through the doorway. Other Cardri defenders stood to either side, oblivious to his appearance as they were in their own lethal duels.
Kicking the soldier from off his sword, Larus glanced back within the tower and saw Hunter was now almost to the top of the steps. Another attacker approached and his attention was drawn back to the battle. Two quick passes of his sword and the man joined his comrade on the cold, blood soaked stone of the wall.
Hunter now stood at the doorway, his eyes remained glassy and unseeing.
“The time is at hand,” the guard said. “Do you have it?”
Hunter held out the hand bearing the ring brought forth from the Or’tux temple. “I do,” he replied.
The guard began to fade as the real world came into focus; the battered ramparts, arcs of flame soaring over the wall, men locked in battle. To his surprise, one of the sword bearing men battling upon the wall was none other than Larus. Glancing left and right, he searched for Father Thomas but failed to locate him.
As the world grew ever more real and the dream-like state which held him in thrall diminished, his gaze caught sight of a low lying glow far to the west. Stepping through the doorway for a better look, he stepped upon the wall just as the moon reached the horizon.
Wham!
“Hunter!” Larus shouted. Parrying a thrust, he immediately retaliated with a crossover hack. As his blade bit deep into the soldier’s unprotected armpit, he kicked out and propelled the man away. “Get back inside.” An enemy’s sword lashed out toward Hunter but the arm which held it was severed at the elbow by a well aimed blow by Larus. A fraction later and Hunter would have died. Fighting was fierce as more men rushed forward against the dwindling defenders. Those standing with Larus before the tower’s door were growing fewer and fewer.
Wham!
The battle raged furiously. The enemy, having obtained a foothold upon the wall, was now throwing everything they had into it. Fifty feet from where Hunter emerged from the guard tower, the wall was devoid of all Cardri defenders. Ladders rose edge to edge against the Ullentite controlled section of wall, each bearing a steady flow of men to join the battle. Dozens topped the wall every minute.
Wham!
Larus and a mere half dozen Cardri defenders now held the onslaught at bay, but barely. Had Larus not joined the fray atop the wall, the enemy would have already overrun this section and taken control of the guard tower. Such a thing would have given them access to the city below. And with every able-bodied swordsman battling atop the wall…
Wham!
A boulder struck the top of the guard tower and shattered. Fragments rained down on those below. Then, a crack was heard and Hunter looked up to see a fissure form in the upper section of tower. The stone was giving way.
“Larus!” shouted Hunter as he leapt forward to avoid the falling masonry. He felt the wall shiver as the tower tipped to the side and slammed into the inner edge of the wall. From the street below he heard screams as the tower fell.
Wham!
One of the six standing with Larus fell, then another. “Back!” shouted Larus. They could not hold. Even one with his skill could not hold out forever against overwhelming odds. Five against fifty? With more coming every second.
Wham!
Hunter stumbled as the wall shuddered with the impact. There was a popping sound and a glance toward the stone between his feet revealed a three inch fissure. Backing away from where Larus and the last few defenders held off the enemy. Hunter lurched to the edge, grasped hold of a merlon for support, then raised the ring. He looked out over the swarming mass of enemy soldiers extending outward from the base of the wall. There had to be tens of thousands yet to join the battle.
Swallowing hard against the fear, Hunter held out his hand. “Work damn you!”
“Now,” ordered Daeson and the Qyaendri which had worked to keep the wall from collapsing ceased their efforts. “It is time.” To Ftheril he said, “See to the priest.”
“As you wish,” Ftheril replied.
Barely having escaped the fall of the tower, Father Thomas and Garin stood among the rubble. The tower door was blocked, chunks of fallen stone in sizes too great for them to budge now all but hid it from view. Around them, people screamed and fled. On the wall above, the presence of the enemy multiplied.
“Father!” shouted Garin. Pointing to a tower fifty feet away he said, “We can reach the wall through there.”
Father Thomas stood transfixed as his gaze settled upon Hunter. Standing alone behind a fast dwindling line of defenders, Hunter had his arm outstretched toward the enemy as he sought to bring forth the power of the ring.
Wham! Crack!
The wall beneath Hunter suddenly sagged inward. Father Thomas held his breath as Hunter held onto the merlon to keep his balance. The blow knocked the three remaining defenders standing with Larus to the stone walkway, one was unable to catch himself in time and slipped over the edge. His scream ended upon impacting with the ground.
Larus kept his feet, though barely. The enemy ceased their attack and began edging away from the sagging section of wall.
Wham!
Another catapult flung boulder slammed into the outer side of the wall. Cracks spiderwebbed their way across the inner surface of the wall and chips of masonry filled the air.
“Father, we can’t stay here,” urged Garin. “The wall is coming down.”
Almost as if fate was waiting for just such a statement to be uttered, another boulder struck the wall.
Father Thomas gasped when he saw the section beneath Larus began tipping in toward them. Larus made a mighty leap as the stone gave way and came to land next to Hunter.
“Come on!” shouted Garin. Not waiting for Father Thomas to reply, he grabbed the priest’s robe and pulled him away from beneath the collapsing wall.
“Larus,” Hunter asked, “what is wrong? Why won’t it do anything?” With the upper section of the wall gone not five feet away and the portion upon which he stood leaning at a precarious angle, he held onto the merlon with a death grip.
“I don’t know,” replied Larus. “But we can’t stay here.”
Wham! Wham! Wham!
Boulders slammed in rapid succession against the broken wall. Each blow brought more of the wall down and the section upon which Hunter and Larus stood continued to lean at an ever greater angle. Now that a portion of the upper wall had been taken out, the enemy catapults sought to reduce it all the way so their army could enter the city.
Larus worked his way to the next merlon further away from the broken section of wall. Once he had a secure grip, he held out his hand toward Hunter. “Take my hand.”
Fear practically freezing him into immobility, it was all he could do to pull one hand away from the merlon and reach out for Larus’. Stretching as far as he could, he took hold of the proffered hand.
Wham! Wham!
The wall shuddered. The merlon to which he clung and the stone beneath his feet gave way. Hand slipping from out of Larus’, Hunter fell.
“Hunter!” cried Larus as he watched Hunter seem to disappear in a cloud of dust and the roar of falling stone.
Wham!
“Hunter!” he shouted again. Eyes working to pierce the darkness, he began working his way down the jagged edge of what remained of the wall. “Hunter, I’m coming!”
Then from below, he heard a weak voice. “Larus?”
“Thank goodness you are alive.” Finding ample hand and footholds in the jagged cracks, he descended the wall until Hunter came into view. He had landed on a portion of the wall that still stood. A large block of stone overlay his lower extremities from his belly down. Blood welled from his mouth and the only thing moving was his eyes.
“I’m not going home, am I?” he asked when Larus drew near.
Larus was aghast. How could this be the end? After all they had gone through he would not let it end this way. “You are not going to die!” he shouted. Moving forward, he gripped the edge of block crushing Hunter and with all his strength, strove to lift it.
“Tell Father Thomas that I am sorry I was not able to save his people,” Hunter said sadly, voice growing fainter. A coughing fit took him as Larus tried to move the block covering him. When it subsided, he looked at Larus forlornly and said, “I always wanted to be the hero.”
Wham!
Shards of stone rained down as more of the wall shattered beneath the onslaught of the catapults.
“Now, I guess I never will.”
Wham!
Those below watched in horror as masonry exploded outward. In the moments of stunned silence that followed, a groan came from within the wall just before an entire section gave way and collapsed. Tears flowed freely from Father Thomas’ eyes. Garin stood in shock. The wall of Xith had fallen!
Chapter 35
“No,” said Garin. “This cannot be happening!”
You must be with Hunter until the end. Again the words of High Priestess Trystia returned to Father Thomas. After that, all will rest upon your capable shoulders. A cloud of dust raised by the falling stone enveloped the area blotting out all sources of light. Garin’s hand rested upon his shoulder and he could hear the disbelief in the young man’s voice.
“Father?” Garin asked when the priest failed to speak.
“We…,” he began when from out of the darkness before him, a faint light caught his eye. Not that of a flame, this was more of a glow. For the briefest moment he watched as it moved through the dust cloud before finally disappearing.
Shhhhht!
The sound of Garin’s sword leaving its scabbard was followed by the sound of footsteps coming toward them. Father Thomas felt more than saw Garin move between him and the one approaching. “Stay behind me Father,” he heard Garin say.
As the dust began dispersing, light from nearby fires cast the world in shadows. One shadow moved toward them.
“What are you going to do?” asked Larus as his form grew more distinct in the limited light. “Kill me?”
“By the Lady!” exclaimed Father Thomas. “You are alive.”
Drawing closer, it soon became evident that though he was alive, he was the worse for wear. Abrasions marred most of his exposed skin. Blood dripped down the side of his forehead from a mass of blood-matted hair. And from the way he was walking, his left leg had suffered damage for he was favoring it.
“What about your friend?” asked Garin.
Larus gazed sadly at Father Thomas. Shaking his head, he said, “Crushed when the wall fell.”
“Then this has all been for naught?” asked Garin.
Before an answer could be given, war cries of Ullen sounded as soldiers poured through the newly formed gap in the wall. Almost by the will of god, a breeze appeared to further disperse the dust. Enemy soldiers saw them standing exposed within the glow of nearby fires, and charged.
Larus drew his sword and turned to face them. Garin moved to take position next to him but Larus said, “No.” Then he gestured to the priest. “You must get Father Thomas out of here.”
