Ring of the Or'tux, page 47
“But you can’t take them all by yourself!” argued Garin.
“No,” agreed Larus, “but I can give you two the time to get away. Now go!” Returning his attention back to the enemy, he raised his sword and raced to meet them.
“We must go, my son,” Father Thomas said.
Garin paused only a moment before nodding. He had given his word. “Let’s go.” With the sound of swords clashing and men screaming in pain behind them, he and Father Thomas fled the area.
Running with sword drawn, Garin led the way away from the battle and quickly ducked down a side street. “Where are we to go?” he asked. “The city is surrounded and shortly will be overrun with enemy.”
“Out of the city,” he replied. “We have to get out of the city.”
“The harbor?” suggested the young swordsman.
Father Thomas nodded. “It may be our only chance. This way.” Having a greater knowledge of Xith’s streets than Garin, he took the lead.
People were running this way and that as word of the enemy’s presence within the city spread. No one knew where to go, all they did know was that the situation would only get worse, and fast. Some raced for the gates, some headed for the safety of the temple, while others of like mind fled toward the harbor.
People came to Father Thomas for help as he was a priest. Despite their pleas, he only slowed minutely to offer a brief word of encouragement and prayer for their well being before continuing on. Such action weighed heavily upon him, as first and foremost he had became a priest to help people as well as serve the goddess Casdralla. He wished desperately to do something for them, and it cut him to the core that he could not.
“There’s the harbor!” shouted Garin as the ships’ tall masts came into view over the city’s skyline.
“Let us hurry,” urged Father Thomas. A sense of doom was settling over him and he knew they had little time to affect their escape. But when the street opened onto the docks, pandemonium was what they encountered.
People jammed the wharf area. Swords and knives flashed as people fought to board what few ships remained. The massive chain barring the harbor’s entrance was down and the way to the lake wide open. Casdra soldiers strove to maintain order but hysteria had overcome the people. The enemy was in the city and everyone wanted out.
When a trio of soldiers positioned before the one ship’s gangplanks were cut down by a score of armed citizens, Garin knew there would be little chance of them gaining freedom this way.
On the water he spied a ship making for the harbor entrance. Listing heavily due to being packed to the gills with refugees, it was very sluggish in its movement as it crossed the inner harbor. It reached less than a hundred feet from the harbor entrance before a hail of stones soared from the enemy ship guarding the lake and shredded those on board. Another volley quickly followed, this time with much larger stones. Amidst the screams of people which had been torn asunder by the first volley, came the sound of wood being smashed apart as the larger stones took out the hull. It didn’t take long before the ship went down.
“Father?” asked Garin. “Should we make for the temple?”
Glancing toward the temple, Father Thomas shook his head and said, “No. There will be no safety there.”
With the harbor no longer a viable avenue of escape, and with the walls completely encircled by the enemy, there was no way out. Father Thomas then did what he always did when faced with a situation to which there seemed no solution. He prayed.
On the other side of the city, the Ullen incursion had come to a stall. It was beyond belief that a handful of defenders could hold back a force of their size. Little over a dozen battle hardened Casdra soldiers and a single civilian fought off every attempt of the enemy to push down the main thoroughfare. The side streets were equally defended, but despite that fact, progress was slowly being made along those fronts. It was this group holding the center which would not budge.
The civilian fought as a man possessed. The Casdra soldiers didn’t know who he was, but they were thankful that he was on their side. His blade moved faster, and struck more deadly, than any they had ever seen. One pass, two, and an enemy fell.
His eyes were laced with what many believed to be madness, but was in fact nothing more than unbridled anger. Expletives issued from him in a steady stream as he vented his wrath on any who came before him.
All his dreams of rejoining Casdralla’s Qyaendri were gone. He had failed and failed utterly. Casdralla’s people on this world were going to suffer, if not perish altogether, and it was all his fault. Hack! Cleaving a man from shoulder to breastbone, Larus barely even noticed.
Anger at Xi for choosing him. Stab! Run through, a soldier fell.
Anger at Daeson for making him mortal. Slice! Nearly cut in half, an Ullen soldier’s upper torso fell away.
But most of all, anger at himself. Hack! Hack! Hack!
He had been the one to fail in the mission. He had been the one who failed to see the signs in time. It was he who doomed an entire people because he wasted the time given him to find the Chosen One.
Hunter had died because of him! Death and suffering of thousands more would all come about because of him!
In a rage of despair so intense as to be likened to a death wish, he began wading forward into the ranks of Ullen soldiers. And as he went, swords shattered and men died.
A tug on his sleeve broke his concentration and the prayer remained unfinished. Even though it hadn’t been completed, Father Thomas felt a calmness settle over him “Father,” he heard Garin ask, “what are we to do?”
Fires raged throughout the city. Whether because of malicious acts of the enemy or simply due to people’s careless hysteria mattered little. Xith burned.
Just then a group of soldiers emerged from a nearby street. Seven men threaded their way through a sea of humanity clogging the wharf area as quickly as the densely packed people would allow.
As he had done many times before, Garin automatically scanned the faces of the soldiers for his brother Stephen. Then when recognition came that his brother was the one who led the others, he gave out with a whoop.
“Stephen!” he shouted with all his might. Moving forward, he kept calling his brother’s name over and over.
“Garin?” replied Stephen as he heard his brother’s voice over the din. Turning, he spied a figure shoving people left and right in his desire to reach him. “Garin!” he cried and raced forward as he too shoved people indiscriminately out of the way.
The two brothers met and clasped each other in a fierce embrace.
“I didn’t think I would find you,” Garin said. “Praise the Lady I did.” Tears of thankfulness rolled down his face.
When they broke apart, Stephen had matching tracks in the soot covering his face. “Heard you were in the city,” he said. “Figured you would be down here trying to get out.”
“We can’t leave this way,” Garin replied. Gesturing toward the mouth of the harbor, he said, “The enemy’s boat is keeping everything bottled inside.” As if to accentuate his words, a rain of stones flew from the lake and peppered another ship trying to get free.
By this time Father Thomas had joined them as well as Stephen’s six comrades. A quick exchange of greetings was given. “As it would happen, Father,” Stephen said once the formalities were out of the way, “there is another way out of the city.”
“What?” asked Garin. “Where?”
One of the soldiers, a young man close to Garin’s own age stepped forward. “There is a smuggler’s route that will take us out past the wall,” he said. “If we can reach the entrance, we should be able to make it out of here.”
“Why haven’t you already left then?” asked Garin.
Stephen smiled. “I couldn’t run out and leave my little brother could I?” he asked with a grin. “What would mother say?”
“Let’s not spend time standing here,” another soldier said. Casting glances back to the south, the presence of the enemy was ever present on his mind. They had to reach the entrance before the enemy had a chance to enter that part of the city.
“I agree,” replied Stephen. Turning to the one who had spoken of the smuggler’s route he said, “Lead on.”
The soldier nodded and turned toward an avenue heading in the general direction of the eastern wall. As they made their way through the wharf area, Stephen glanced to his brother. “You picked a heck of a time to come calling,” he said.
“You did say you would show me the sights,” Garin countered.
Stephen gave him a nod and then the two brothers began catching up. Talk of home and more mundane things provided a moment where the immediate cares could be forgotten in lieu of better times.
Twice they turned onto different streets as they sought a way around the tide of people fleeing the enemy. When at last the soldier brought them to a halt, they had reached an area already deserted by the populace. The street running along the base of the outer defensive wall was less than a block away.
The soldier pointed to a nearby building. In the dark it looked to be a residence. “The entrance is in there,” he announced quietly.
“Where does it lead?” asked Garin.
“To a broken down farmhouse amidst a grove of trees about half a mile from the city,” he explained. “Naught much left but part of one wall and most of the chimney.”
“And no one else knows of it?” asked Garin.
“Only my family,” he replied. “And they left when Xith was first surrounded.”
Father Thomas gave the soldier a most disapproving look. “More people could have been saved if you would have divulged its secret sooner.”
Shaking his head the soldier said, “With all due respect Father, the grove in which the smuggler’s route exits has been continuously harvested by the enemy since they first arrived. A mass exodus would not have gone unnoticed. Not to mention the risk of giving the enemy a way past the wall and into the city.”
Looking little convinced, Father Thomas remained quiet.
When no retort materialized, the soldier turned his gaze toward Stephen, then roved over each of the other five soldiers in turn. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked.
One man nodded. “Our dying here will make little difference.”
Another added, “The city is lost.”
Each felt no small amount of shame in their decision to flee the city. To assuage their guilt, another said, “It isn’t deserting. Merely repositioning forces to a place of strength where we can do more damage.”
Despite such words, each knew the truth. They were deserters who didn’t want to die defending a city they had sworn to protect. The fact that the city had already fallen offered them little comfort.
Silence hung between them for a brief moment before Stephen said, “If we are going to get out of here, let’s do it.”
“Right,” said the soldier who had led them there. “Let’s go.” Stepping out of the shadows, he hurried across the street followed closely by the others. At the building’s entrance, he produced a key and unlocked the door.
The interior was dark and the glow of nearby fires did little to dispel it. Holding open the door, he motioned for them to enter. Scanning the area, he said, “Quickly now, before anyone sees.”
Father Thomas hurried behind the two brothers and was soon entering a small room, a residence’s foyer if the hat stand and small table set just within the door were any indication. Stopping near the hat rack, he waited for the last soldier to enter and for the door to close.
“Stay where you are for a moment,” their guide said. “I’ll get a lantern.”
In the darkness of the foyer, Father Thomas stood quietly and waited. From outside he could hear the sound of a child crying for its mother. So much sorrow, loss, and death. He didn’t know if his heart could take it. Again he was fleeing while people in need were left behind. Then from the other room a lantern blossomed to life and the soldier called them forward.
The light from the lantern revealed that they were indeed within a residence. The foyer opened onto the front room of the home. The modest furnishings within the room indicated that those residing within were not the most well-to-do citizens of Xith. Despite their meager possessions, the home was neat, clean, and tidy.
“This way.” Moving toward a hallway off the main room, the soldier led them to a storeroom in the back of the house. Within they found many barrels and crates positioned across the floor. Coming to one barrel set against the back wall, he set the lantern on a neighboring box and motioned for the others to help him. “We have to move this barrel,” he explained. “Beneath lies a trapdoor which leads to the tunnel.”
Stephen and another soldier moved forward and together, the three of them moved the barrel aside. “What’s in this?” Garin’s brother asked when the barrel proved exceptionally heavy.
“Sand,” answered the guard. Moving it aside, the trapdoor was revealed.
So masterfully crafted was the door to blend in with the surrounding floor, that if one didn’t know it was there, it probably wouldn’t have been noticed. To raise it, the soldier produced two narrow, three foot rods of metal. He handed one to Stephen then indicated a barely seen crack running along the outer fringe of the trap door.
“Slide it through there until you hit resistance,” he said, “then pull the rod toward you.”
“Alright,” replied Stephen. Doing as he was told, he inserted the thin metal rod until he met resistance, then pulled. The soldier did the same simultaneously and both felt something being pushed aside. When a barely audible, ‘click’ was heard, the soldier removed his rod. Stephen did the same.
“A pin had to be released in order for the way to be opened,” the soldier explained. Tossing the rod aside, he placed his foot along the edge of the trapdoor and applied pressure causing the opposite end to come up.
He gave the others a grin at the ingenuity of the trapdoor’s construction as he moved to the edge jutting from the floor. There he took hold of an indented handhold in the side and easily opened the trapdoor the rest of the way.
“Pretty neat,” commented one soldier.
“My grandfather was a very ingenious smuggler,” he replied. “Smarter than most.” Bringing the lantern’s light to shine down into the opening he revealed a ten foot drop, at the bottom of which began a tunnel heading almost due east. A wooden ladder badly in need of repair ran down the side opposite the tunnel.
“Be careful as you climb to the bottom,” he stated. “The ladder is quite old so take it one at a time.” Moving into position, he pointed out a handle on the underside of the trap door. “Whoever is last, make sure you shut the door hard. We might want to keep this way into the city from becoming known.”
Stephen nodded. “Makes sense,” he agreed.
One by one, they descended into the darkness below. Father Thomas was the second down followed by Garin. He was startled when at the bottom of the ladder, his foot stepped into six inches of cold water covering the floor of the tunnel.
“My grandfather said that when the tunnel was first dug, it used to flood with the rains,” he explained while the others made their way down. “Then he came up with the idea to dig a cross channel to Xith’s sewer so it could drain.”
“That was smart,” Garin remarked.
The soldier chuckled. “It was until a massive downpouring of rain came through and flooded the sewers,” he said. “My grandfather said that he was forced to bring a load of …uh…well… never mind… through a tunnel chest high in sewer backflow.”
“Did they abandon the tunnel then?” asked Father Thomas.
“After all the work they put into digging it? No. My grandfather devised a series of weights and pulleys that would shut off the cross channel to the sewers should the flow be reversed. Unfortunately, in doing so the tunnel was no longer able to be completely drained.”
“Why?” asked Father Thomas.
The young soldier just shrugged. “I don’t know, Father.”
A thud from above sounded as Stephen slammed the trapdoor closed. “Push on it to make sure it won’t pop back open,” the soldier shouted up to him.
“It’s secure,” came the response.
“Good.”
Turning the light to shine down the tunnel, the soldier said, “The other end is slightly higher than this one so the water should be gone by the time we reach the exit.” With that, he began leading the way.
Father Thomas fell in behind and followed him through a narrow tunnel barely high enough to accommodate the tallest of them. Silence hung heavy in the air as each contemplated the fate of those being left behind, as well as their own futures. Would any of them survive? Would Casdra?
Heavy on Father Thomas’ mind was the death of Hunter and having left Larus to guard their retreat. Even one of Larus’ skill would be unable to survive long before the might of the Ullen army. Though he had to admit, if anyone could, it would be he.
The tunnel seemed longer than what the young soldier had claimed. But at least he was correct about the tunnel’s slope. By the time he announced they were directly beneath the city’s wall, the water was already less than three inches deep. Another hundred feet and the water was behind them. And still the tunnel went on. Garin was amazed at how far it extended. It must have taken years for them to dig it.
After walking for what seemed a very long time, a dim light began to be noticed far in the distance. “It must be dawn,” the young soldier explained. “That light you see is filtering down through the cracks of the door hiding the other end.”
“I do not think so,” responded Father Thomas. “Dawn is still an hour away.”
“Are you sure?” asked Garin.
Father Thomas nodded. “I have a sense about such things,” he replied.
“If it isn’t sunlight,” queried Stephen, “then what is it?”
It wasn’t until they drew closer to the end of the tunnel before they began to realize the source of the light. The faint odor of charred wood that soon became apparent intimated that it was the light of a fire which was filtering through the other end. Then voices too faint and muffled to be made out clearly were heard.
