Hammer to Fall, page 30
“Have you heard news of my daughter? The battle near Alalia is long over. I know many ships were lost, though hers sailed alone, and in advance of the battle to find a suitable spot on Corse to establish the gateway. I fear for her, and for the artifact in her charge.”
“I’ve received no updated report. When I do, you’ll be the first to know. Speaking of your kindred, where is your nephew, Rasce? I expected to see him arrive today.”
So had I, and my heart weeps at what his absence implies.
Rika took a breath to calm herself before she replied. “Still in the east, I presume, aiding those who protect our borders. His presence here is not required. You know I can perform the summoning, if necessary.”
“Hmmm... quite. I merely wish to avoid taxing you unnecessarily during this time of mourning. I know what it is to lose a loved one. With age, both of us have seen much. So bittersweet, that your husband would die hunting, an activity that brought him such pleasure. My sympathies to you.”
It took every ounce of Rika’s will to avoid striking the disingenuous and duplicitous woman. “Yes, I still grieve Abirami’s loss. I’ve spoken with my mason, who informed me that the carving of my husband’s tomb is complete. I wish to visit and bring gifts and food, that he should want for nothing in the afterlife.”
“You need to return to your quarters, High Priestess. The box is secure in the inner temple. You will be called upon if, and when, your services are required.”
“I’ve been confined in my chamber since the battle. Do you hold me prisoner?”
“Of course not! The precautions we take are for your own safety. The necropolis is far too distant and exposed to risk a journey there now, even under guard. As we just discussed, with Rasce absent, you will almost certainly be needed, and we cannot afford your loss. Even though it appears the Phocaeans will quit Alalia despite their victory, there is much uncertainty in the wake of the conflict. It’s not clear which faction will prevail or what dangers we might face. This is why we now fortify our southern flank and dig new wells. Trouble may find us if certain parties determine that we’ve been deceitful.”
“Why would anyone think that? We did exactly as the majority in the League of Twelve asked of us.”
“So you say, but it’s not clear your daughter summoned the creature to aid our fleet. Her ship sailed out secretly in calm waters with an experienced crew. The chances of discovery, or her boat sinking, were impossibly slim. It makes the Paithnas suspect that we betrayed them.”
“Did we?”
“How dare you! Were you not the High Priestess, I’d see to it that you were stoned to death for such slander, like they did in Cisra to the poor Hellenic prisoners after the battle!”
“Oh, Arathia, spare me. It’s common knowledge that you supported the nobles in Tarchuna who voted against aggressive action to deter the increased Phocaean settlement of Alalia. This is hardly anything new. Like your father, you’ve chafed for decades at the Paithna’s monopoly on the mining of ore, and the power they wield in the League.”
“Well do you know, Rika Matuna, that it goes far beyond that! It was their policy of appeasement and inaction with Lukius Priscus that led to the rebellion and the near destruction of my family.”
“Nonsense. I wish not to speak ill of your grandfather, or my mentor, Thana, but in the end, it was their insular and shortsighted approach to the situation that precipitated the revolt. Our true enemies, the Hellenes, were there all along. We simply needed to be more inventive and aggressive, and that solved our problems. Eventually, even Lukius Priscus became a problem for us, as Thana knew he would, but the Hellenes still pose the true threat.”
“This time, it’s my turn to claim nonsense. The true problem is the Paithna’s continued insistence on alliance with Carthage, a partnership which each year further erodes the fortunes of our people, as we long ago predicted it would. The nobles of Tarchuna see far greater benefit in allying with the Hellenes, and like my father, I agree with them.”
“My point exactly. Would logic not dictate, then, that treachery against the assault on Alalia would serve your purposes? How convenient for you that Ramuthia’s and the gateway’s mysterious disappearance on the eve of the battle precipitated our defeat, though I still can’t comprehend what benefit you’ll ultimately derive from provoking the Paithnas to violence.”
“If you have no evidence to support these spurious accusations, I suggest you stay your tongue.”
“Arathia, I didn’t come here to accuse you of anything. I’ve spent my life embroiled in the political turmoil of our people. I understand there are different sides, differing perspectives. At this point, I care only for the whereabouts and safety of my daughter. Despite our differences, you and I have always been united by the power entrusted to your family generations ago. I call upon this bond between us now. Forego all other considerations and simply tell me true. Do you know anything about my daughter’s disappearance? If you do, speak now, and all else for me will be as water under a bridge.”
A look of sadness briefly replaced Arathia’s interminable grimace, but then she stiffened. “I have many tasks that demand my attention. Return to your quarters as instructed, and prepare yourself to carry out your duties to my family, and to our people. I cannot help you any further, High Priestess.”
With that, her guards interceded between the two women, and Arathia turned and went inside.
It is not I that need help, noble but foolish princess. Not now. Now, things are in motion, and like a spinning toy, events will wind around, and eventually down, until all is again completely and oh-so-perfectly still.
A thin wisp of smoke tickled Rika’s nose as it trailed from the lamp.
They will have seen my signal by now, or not. I leave that in the lap of the gods.
Wearily, she rose from her stool by the window and groped toward the center of the chamber. There, a thick wooden beam rose from the temple below and provided support for the floor of her living space, the barracks above, and eventually the tower’s roof. Unquestionably, it could bear the weight of far more than one additional 66-year-old woman, but it remained to be seen whether she still possessed the strength to complete the necessary climb.
Once, it would have been easy, but she was no longer the girl who frolicked on the thatched roof of their old abode, or even the woman who had ridden prized steeds and shimmied up the rickety ladders to the roof of the tower. Still, she had remained active as she aged, and she retained one other powerful resource: her unconquerable will. The singularity and urgency of her purpose would drive her, as it had through her whole life, to accomplish things which others could only dream of achieving.
She had coiled the long rope discretely amongst a pile of woolen blankets and balls of yarn. Even now, none would dare enter, let alone search, the chamber of the High Priestess, so it had gone unnoticed. She wrapped one end thrice around the great beam, tied it securely, and brought the other end to the middle window of her chamber on the northern wall. A heavy wooden doorway sat directly beneath this spot on the structure’s second story, but it was barred from the inside. She intended to descend all the way to the ground.
Rather than toss the coil out the window, she lowered the rope carefully, so the guards on the roof or in the barracks above wouldn’t hear any noise. Once the end lay in the grass, she removed her fine leather shoes with their upturned, pointed tips, as well as her cloak, richly decorated with the colorful hems she once unhappily wove on her loom. Her simple tunic would suffice in the still warm fall weather, and would create no encumbrance.
She grasped the rope and squeezed into the narrow windowsill, then slowly backed out and walked herself downward. No light or noise emanated from the roof of the tower, but she knew guards monitored the area, especially during this time of disquiet and unrest. Any noise would draw their attention, so she descended gently and deliberately.
A smile crossed her lips when her bare feet touched the wooden frame of the doorway that hovered a full story above the ground. On occasion, when the proximity of their target permitted, she had commanded this unusual portal be opened into midnight skies identical to tonight’s, and watched as one or another of her otherworldly associates flew away on their assigned task. These beings, so opposite in every way from the other, yet still intimately entwined, had found contentment under her oversight, and that of her kin. They ate well, and often, to their benefit, and to the benefit of the Rasenna.
My success or failure now will determine whether that pattern shall continue.
A sturdy bar secured the door from the inside, so it didn’t creak or sway as she deftly rappelled down its surface. Her arms and hands began to ache from the unfamiliar effort, but once she’d cleared the portal, the ground lay just a few cubits farther.
Soon, her heel found the soft, grassy turf. She took a brief moment to stretch her stiffened and burning joints, then scampered for the shelter of the northern outbuilding.
After the great fire, this had been the first building constructed on the plateau, and had served as a makeshift royal residence. Rika had stayed here as well, fiercely watching over the boxes that contained the artifacts to which the remainder of her life would be devoted. Now, the humble structure had been converted into a stable for the Zalthu’s prize steeds, though most of them were currently in the service of soldiers, who patrolled the areas west of the hill in anticipation of the assault.
The quiet of the building served her purposes. She tensely rounded the corner to the northern face, then looked back to the tower. To her relief, no silhouettes of guards were visible. They hadn’t heard or seen her, and probably still monitored the southern skyline for signs of campfires.
Wasting no time, she hurried northward toward the tree line, where the ground dropped precipitously. Once there, she slipped into the underbrush, then crawled eastward along the ridge.
“Rika!”
The whisper both startled and relieved her. She eased down the slope a bit before she felt a hand on her shoulder.
“By the beard of Melquart, you made it!”
The Canaanite accent of Ahumm’s words brought almost unbearable memories of Abirami to her mind.
“Ramuthia got word to us when she reached Fufluna. Is it true, about your husband... my cousin? Is he indeed dead?”
“Before I answer, tell me about Ramuthia! Is she safe?”
“We believe she is alive. Her ship was intercepted and boarded once it left port in Fufluna, then escorted to Pyrgi, where our associates tell us they saw her disembark. Likely, they hold her captive there rather than take her to Tarchuna. Many nobles from Cisra have recently fled to that city due to the increasing troubles with Rome, and through loose talk might easily catch wind of her whereabouts. We doubt her captors would kill her until they see how events unfold. She is said to hold information related to the great power of House Zalthu, mysterious even to me.”
“After all this time, you still don’t know? Abirami never told you?”
“No. My cousin is... well... was, a man of his word, and he swore an oath of secrecy to you.”
“A man of his word, save once, long ago. You came for him, but he wouldn’t go. He wouldn’t leave me or our children. You asked him for something instead, and he gave it to you. What was it?”
“You spied on us.”
“I spied on my husband, only to see with my own eyes if he might leave me, and whether he had any choice in the matter.”
“Well, he did not leave. As far as what he gave me, I too am a man of my word. I swore to cut out my tongue before speaking about that item to anyone.”
“I understand. If an oath such as that was required of you, perhaps it’s best I never know.”
“In truth, Rika, my family sent me to bring Abirami home when the siege of our city ended. They knew of you, and of your children together, and feared he might remain, but they told me to demand the return of the amulet should it come to that. I suspect I know as little as he did about the nature of the item itself. We are a family of merchants, and that was our business together. Neither of us spoke of it again, and now I sense we never will. Is he truly gone?”
Rika felt her heart lurch. “Sadly, Ahumm, Abirami is dead, and his passing nearly broke me. Only the highly suspicious circumstances of the incident, and its timing, having been just two days before he was to have accompanied Ramuthia to Fufluna, kept me from cascading into complete despair. Inconceivably, it appears Arathia and her co-conspirators in Tarchuna have finally decided to act, and Abirami, whom they had always despised, constituted their first target. He always knew the risks, going against the Zalthu’s wishes, but neither of us ever imagined it would come to this. I still didn’t believe it, until my daughter disappeared.”
“So her message indicated. She told me of your suspicions, and precisely what actions I must take should anything untoward happen to her. By your signal in the tower, I knew you would come to meet us in this spot.”
“How many are with you now?”
“Only two. More would pose too great a risk of being noticed. What is our plan?”
“We must get inside the inner temple. That’s where the box has been placed, but it’s under heavy guard. When we have what I’m after, you and your men can exit through the outer door. A rope hangs there so you don’t have to jump.”
“What about you?”
“Worry not for me. Aid me in the completion of this task and see my daughter safe, and you will have your revenge for the death of your beloved cousin, along with my eternal gratitude. Are we agreed?”
Ahumm tightened his grip on her shoulder in reply, then turned his head and called quietly into the darkness. The underbrush rustled as they were joined by two soldiers, likely among those who accompanied the cart earlier in the day.
The party of four stealthily retraced Rika’s route back past the outbuilding to the base of the guard tower, then crept toward the eastern face of the compound.
As they rounded the corner, torchlight near the main gate became visible. Two guards stood watch there. They could use the cover of darkness and the scraggly foliage that grew near the wall to get close, but the perimeter of illumination meant they could not take these men by surprise. The alarm would soon be raised.
I hope all are in their appointed places and that Laran favors us this night.
She and Ahumm fell in behind the two soldiers as they inched silently toward their quarry, conscious that the guards of the tower now loomed directly above them.
When they had gotten as close as they could without being seen, she whispered in their ears. “Focus on the one closest. Strike him down, and the other will retreat inside for aid.”
Despite their skeptical looks in the flickering torchlight, they silently nodded. They gestured briefly to one another, then one of the men ran away from the wall into the dirt road in front of the gate.
The guards cried out in challenge, but as they did, the remaining soldier near Rika abruptly launched himself directly at the nearest sentry.
The distraction had given him near total surprise. Only at the last moment did the sentry swing his shield to block the thrust of his attacker’s short sword. The hollow knock of metal on wood rang in the night air, and startled shouts erupted from the top of the guard tower. The soldier who stood in the road didn’t hesitate, and descended on the sentry’s unprotected right flank.
The bronze tip of his spear drove into the pit of the guard’s arm as the man raised his own spear to fend off his first attacker. With a grotesque crunch, the weapon ripped through his shoulder, then into his neck, just beneath the ear. He screamed in agony and collapsed in a shivering heap.
Rika suppressed a sob at the fate of a man who had once guarded her very life, and likely slept at times in the barracks above her own quarters, but bloodshed at this stage seemed unavoidable.
As anticipated, when he saw his companion slain, the other sentry made for the gateway.
Rika grabbed Ahumm’s arm and dashed forward. “Come, quickly! This is our sole chance!”
The victorious soldier abandoned his spear in the corpse of his victim, as all four darted through the gate in pursuit.
Neither the outer or inner doors were closed, as many deliveries of food and other items arrived during the night. The close pursuit prevented the sentry from securing them now. Instead, he ran into the courtyard and shouted frantically for help. Equally agitated cries came from the guard tower. The soldiers there loudly proclaimed they were trapped, so the sentry ran toward the southern wing of the building.
“Should we follow?” one of Ahumm’s men queried.
“No,” she answered. “Let him go. We must get to the tower!” They sprinted under the loggia toward the temple in the northern wing. Its doors stood closed, but she prayed they would not long remain so.
Just as they passed by, three guards staggered out of a doorway in the east wing. They wielded spears and shields, but had no other armor, having clearly just tumbled out of bed.
Rika and Ahumm turned left and ran up to test the door to the temple, but it was still barred shut. They would have to hold out until it could be opened.
The two soldiers who accompanied them squared for combat. They were outnumbered, and each carried only a sword, which put them at a deficit compared to the spears of their challengers.
Ahumm drew a curved dagger and stepped protectively in front of Rika as the attackers closed.
Sensing their advantage, the guards came full-on. Those on the outer flanks slammed their shields into the bodies of the defenders.
Deftly, each of Ahumm’s soldiers avoided the pursuant spear thrusts by keeping their center of gravity low and pressing close to their aggressor’s shields. One even swung his sword and scored a strike to his attacker’s leg.
The man howled in pain, but somehow willed himself to maintain his feet.
The other soldier, meanwhile, did not fare as well. As he locked with his assailant’s shield, the two rotated to his right. This exposed his back to a strike by the third guard, who chose to avoid his target’s protective bronze cuirass, and instead drove his spear directly into the unfortunate man’s neck. Rika gasped as the bloodied bronze point of the weapon ripped through her protector’s flesh and emerged from just under his chin. He instantly dropped his sword and collapsed to his knees, as he choked and violently spat a torrent of blood.
