Shanakan (The Fourth Age of Shanakan Book 1) (28 page)

Back in the camp he was surprised to see that Serhan was returned and waiting for him.

“You were right about one of the guides,” he said as he dismounted. “We should have been more careful.”

“You have had a victory?”

“Of a kind. We have prisoners, but I do not think that they will talk.”

“I have something for you that may improve your mood,” Serhan said. “There is no doubt that they do not intend to hold the Kalla House. There are defences set up around it, but not inside. The intention is to run, and draw you after them.”

Darius sighed. “I will not ask you how you discovered this,” he said. “But if it is so, were you able to determine their intended route out of the town?”

“I was. They will head to the east. I have made a map and marked the roads by which they will leave the town.”

“Towards the hills? That is hard country. Perhaps they have concealed their second force there, though there are precious few places to do so.”

“What will you do?”

“I will be cautious. Tomorrow we will send a larger patrol to seek out danger in the hills, and if they find a force there we will engage them. If not, then we will spring their trap and see where they run. I will make them pay for their escape, though.”

True to his word, when all the patrols had returned he allowed them to rest and prepare themselves for the following day, though he posted twenty men to watch the town and the woods and report back any movement.

The following morning a patrol of thirty men was sent towards the hills by a route that was not visible from the town, skirting below the ridge line and after that keeping in the trees that covered the plain to within half a mile of the higher land.

Darius and Serhan waited with the bulk of their force, and watched the town again. Nothing was seen to enter or leave all day apart from a group of farmers heading south with a couple of wagons. Darius had them stopped and searched, but they were just what they appeared to be.

As evening approached the patrol returned. They had searched all day among the foothills, ridden up every valley, and scanned the tops for watching eyes, but had found no trace of troops. They had not even found the cold embers of a fire.

“It is no matter,” Darius said when he discussed it with Serhan that evening. “If you are correct about the defenders’ intent then we will have thinned them out so much that they will not add much to the second force, wherever it may be concealed. We must only be careful, and we will prevail.”

“I am certain enough. The route was prepared.”

“Then we will attack with first light.”

Darius roused his men about two hours before dawn, and using the map that Serhan had drawn of the escape route he dispatched a company of archers to penetrate the town and take up positions along the indicated roads. He took the rest of the men towards the town just before dawn, and led them through the quiet streets in the very first dim light, coming out away from the square facing one of the blank walls of the Kalla house. Serhan waited patiently with the others while Darius took the measure of the place.

The wall was about ten feet high, and he called forwards twenty of his strongest men, who braced themselves against the wall. On a quiet word of command two archers were lifted up until they were able to raise their bows above the parapet. One of them dropped down quickly, raising three fingers. Another archer came forward and the three were raised up again, loosing their arrows at the same moment.

The indication was success, so first ten, and then another ten men were lifted up onto the roof with great stealth.

Darius now had the vantage point of the roof secured, and the escape route covered by archers. His remaining fifty men moved quietly round the side of the Kalla House into the square, and were spotted almost at once. The invaders had placed a lookout on the far side of the square, and he raised a shout loud enough to rouse the whole town.

Barricades had been placed around the main door, and men rose up behind these, and prepared to defend, but they were not protected from above, and after five White Rock men had dropped down behind them from the roof they were turned and the barricades were quickly breached.

The main door had not even been barred.

They burst into the Kalla house and a fierce but brief fight ensued. The defenders were pressed from all sides, with men pouring through the door and more down the stairs from the roof. Some were cut off in the barracks, and fought on with no thought of surrender.

Serhan kept himself out of the fray for the most part. He knew that swinging Shadow Cutter in darkened, crowded rooms would do as much harm to his friends as his foes, so he stayed in the clear, dealing what blows he could at those who stepped out of the melee.

It was only minutes before the defenders broke and ran, leaving many dead and wounded behind. Darius gave another signal, and his guards began a pursuit on foot, following down the same streets that Serhan’s map had indicated. It was quickly clear that the archers had taken their toll of the fleeing force. The streets were scattered with bodies, each pierced by a single arrow. As the guard progressed through the town archers rose from their hiding places and joined them, so that by the time they reached the edge of town the entire force was reunited.

What remained of the defending force was now mounted, clear of the town, and galloping to the east.

“We will pursue them,” Darius said. He called out and in a very short time their horses were brought forward and the entire force mounted, setting off quickly across the plains in the direction of the rising sun. For a while this made it difficult to see their quarry, but as they drew close to the hills the sun was concealed behind them, and they could see their foe clearly; a force of about thirty men in the process of crossing a ford on a substantial river. The rise of the hills was no more than half a mile beyond them, and only that far because the high ground lay back behind the river, trapping a large flat space between the water and the steep slopes.

Darius hesitated. This was a killing ground, and the men before him were entering it intentionally. They were now trapped. Why was that? He called the officer who had led the previous day’s patrol to this area to his side.

“What is there?” he asked. “Is there a way out?”

“Not that we found, Captain,” the man said. “There is a box canyon that would make a good defensive position. It could be held for a few days – longer if they had archers.”

If I wait they will have time to prepare, and hold us here until others arrive. Is that the trap? He stood up in his stirrups and scanned the plain in all directions as far as he could see. You could hide in the trees, he thought, but we searched everything.

“We go on,” he said. “Follow them into the canyon if they go there. Give them no time. We’ll finish it here.”

The White Rock guard crashed over the ford in a mass of white water, racing up the gentle slope towards the mouth of the canyon. They followed their enemy between the high walls, turning first left and then right. It was longer than Darius expected, and he glanced uneasily upwards at the heights that surrounded them. A few archers up there and they would be in trouble.

No arrows came, and the walls of the canyon remained clear and safe.

A final turn and they were racing down the last few hundred yards, but something was very wrong.

Ahead of them, where he expected to see an enemy at bay before an unscalable rock face he saw a large black square through which the last few horses of the enemy force were passing, and even as he reined his horse to a standstill the black door closed, and they were alone in the canyon.

“Back!” he shouted at his men. “Get back to the ford.”

For a second time they passed through the canyon, but in his heart Darius knew that he had fallen into a trap. After seeing the black door there was now no doubt in his mind that Borbonil was behind the attack, and that the rules of fair conflict had been tossed aside. He was sure that he would not have to face the Faer Karan themselves, because whatever happened, it had to seem to be the work of bandits.

As they rode the last few yards up to the canyon mouth they were met with a volley of arrows, and several men fell from their mounts. Again the horses were reined it, turned and spurred on. This time they ran for the first turn in the canyon, which was a defensible position, safe from arrows. One glance out of the canyon’s mouth had been enough for him to see the extent of the trap. There were dozens, probably hundreds of men out there, and three black doors through which poured archers, horses and infantry, all wearing the white tabards of Ocean’s Gate.

Darius felt a sharp pain in his left shoulder, and knew that an arrow had found him. As he hunched forward on his horse he felt another riding beside him, holding him on the saddle.

They made the canyon’s bend and men dismounted all around them, taking up positions in the broken rocks close to the canyon walls, and forming a line prepared to meet any force that rode down on them.

Darius was eased from his horse. It was Serhan, making him walk to a sheltered spot a little way from the others.

“It’s not that bad,” he heard his friend call to his men. “I think it’s only shallow, lieutenant, see to the defensive line and we’ll join you when I get it out.”

“It’s not at all shallow, and you know it,” Darius muttered. The pain was great. It would probably be a fatal wound if they did not get back to White Rock quickly, and that didn’t seem likely.

“Grit your teeth, Darius, I have to get it out,” Serhan said. He did as he was told, but the pain was too much, and the world darkened around him.

“You’ll be all right,” he heard just before he blacked out.

It was hard for Serhan to injure Darius, but after he had spoken the words of the healing spell he took the arrow head and cut his unconscious friend’s shoulder. It had to look like the man had been lightly injured. He made the scoring quite deep, and it bled profusely. He fetched a bandage from his own saddlebag and bound up the shoulder. It had to look good.

He went to the lieutenant he’d spoken to earlier.

“Darius needs to rest a moment,” he said. “What’s our situation?”

“I’m not sure,” the officer replied. “There are a lot of them out there. My guess is that they’ll try an assault pretty soon, just to see how tough it’s going to be.” The man looked grim. “We’ll educate them,” he said.

“I’m going to go forward to have a look,” Serhan said.

“It’s not a good idea, my lord,” the lieutenant said.

“Don’t worry, lieutenant, I will teach them as well as you.”

The officer looked doubtful, but he said no more to dissuade him, and Serhan began to make his way along the safer of the walls, the one that offered some shelter from arrows, and approached the bend in the canyon.

He was angry, and he allowed the anger to build. He knew that it was rooted in his grief, and its flowering would not be a pretty thing, but he needed strength, even if it was ugly.

He reached the corner and took a quick look round the jagged rocks. The lieutenant had been quite right. There was a group of forty or fifty men advancing up the canyon on foot, swords drawn, and beyond them the plain seethed with Ocean’s Gate guard.

He ducked back and examined his memory of what he had seen. He estimated about two hundred and fifty men. There was no way that they could resist such a force for long. Their own numbers were now below eighty.

He had perhaps three minutes before the advancing men reached where he was standing. Now he needed his anger, and he summoned up all of it.

Darius had been shot. His friend had fought against these people for years. They had been beaten time and time again by honest strategy, and finally they had decided to cheat, to cast aside the rules of fair conflict. Then so would he. Shadow Cutter whispered out if its sheath.

“Now I need you, great sword,” he said. “I will stand in blood, and my enemies will remember the day.”

You are the master of White Rock
, a voice said in his head.
I will not fail you.

He glanced behind him, and saw to his surprise that some twenty guards had followed him to the point of battle. He looked at them, and knew that there was nothing but cold rage in his own eyes.

“Do not get in the way,” he said, and stepped out from the rock in front of the advancing force.

It was well timed. He was too close to the attackers for the Ocean’s Gate archers to get a clear shot at him, and he moved quickly to the centre of the canyon.

“Come, then”, he called to them. “I am the Lord Serhan, Seneschal of White Rock and all its domains. Kill me if you can.” He saw the eagerness in their eyes, and the quickening of their step, but Shadow Cutter sang in his hand even as it swept through empty air, it felt light as a feather, and he had the ring. He stepped forward to meet them.

Nothing in his life had prepared him for this. His blade had a blood lust all of its own and he allowed it to sweep him along. The blade grew lighter as he fought, and flew faster and faster to meet each enemy, and nothing stopped its edge, not mail, not steel, not flesh or bone. Men fell around him, and he began to see fear in the eyes of those that faced him. It seemed only moments until it was over, and the attackers were running back down towards the ford and their own forces. The sword wanted to follow them, and he felt its pull, but he resisted.

He stepped back and pressed himself against the wall of the canyon, eyes closed and breathing hard. The rage receded and he was able to relax again. For the first time he was aware that he had not escaped the conflict unmarked, and could feel where blades had struck him. The ring offered no protection from the force of the blows, and he knew by the soreness of his body and arms that he would have many bruises, though his skin was unbroken. A few angry arrows clattered harmlessly through the passage that they had defended.

He looked back at the men who had come with him. They too had fought, plugging the gaps on either side of him, defending his back. Their eyes were bright and their swords were red, and all of them were still alive.

“They’ll not try that again,” he said to them. He had expected to see fear in their eyes, fear of their own leader, but it was not there. Instead he saw joy, victory, and hope. A few minutes ago they had been trapped and preparing to sell their lives dearly in the great traditions of guardsmen throughout Shanakan. Now something had changed. They had seen the impossible, tasted total victory over superior forces, and they believed.

“Indeed not, my lord,” one of them said. He grinned.

Serhan left two men forward to watch for any other moves from the enemy and went back to check on the rest of the men. He found Darius speaking to his remaining officers.

“I saw that,” Darius said as he approached. “You can’t kill all of them, you know.”

“If they line up like that it might be possible.”

“No,” Darius ignored his attempt at humour. “They won’t come up the canyon on foot again. No need for it. By now they’ll be sending archers up the slopes on either side, if there’s any sort of officer in charge out there. I’d say we have until tomorrow morning before they start picking us off one at a time.”

“Is there anything we can do?”

“Not really. We have very little water and food, so we won’t be holding out much more than a couple of days in any case.” Darius nodded to his officers. “Our only option is to try to break out, and the only time to do it is tonight. The problem is that they’ll know that, too.”

“So they’ll be waiting?”

“Yes. Not many of us are going to get out of this. Any of us that do get out will be hunted down. They have to kill us all or Borbonil is in real trouble.”

“So we split up and run?”

“After we cross the ford, I think it’s the only way.”

Serhan thought for a moment. “I think I can see a better way, perhaps a way of turning this around.” He saw no disbelief in the eyes of the officers, just a sort of eager expectation.

“How?”

“Let me give it some thought,” he said. “But don’t plan to break out until dawn. I think I’ll need the whole night.”

“You’re going to go out there?”

“I’ll have to.”

“There won’t be less than thirty pairs of eyes watching the mouth of the canyon. They’ll see you.”

“It will be dark. I can be very stealthy.”

Darius shook his head. Serhan could see that he was struggling to remain a soldier, and not just a follower. Most of the officers had already passed that point. “We’ll wait until just before dawn,” he said.

Now it was up to Serhan. He had a choice of options. He could, if he wanted to reveal the extent of his powers to Gerique, simply create a black door at the back of the canyon and whisk the entire troop off to some other location. Borbonil might guess what had happened, but he couldn’t do anything about it – he was himself in breach of rules that the Faer Karan held inviolable. On the other hand he was sure that word would get back to Colonel Stil, and from there back to Gerique, and no Shan deceit would protect him this time. Such a flagrant display of power would force the Faer Karani to act.

What he had decided to do was to go out among the enemy, using his spell of invisibility. It had served him well in the past. With just that spell and Shadow Cutter he could probably eliminate most of the opposing force in an hour or so, but with his rage worked out and the sword sheathed it seemed an appalling waste. He wanted something more than a victory.

“My lord, someone approaches under a flag of truce.”

He had not been aware of the guardsman until he spoke, and he had to hurry to join Darius advancing up the side of the canyon to meet them.

There were only three men in the group; a captain, a young lieutenant, and a guardsman who carried the flag – a white tabard tied to a lance. They stopped about three yards from the turn, close enough to see and hear, but out of reach of a blade. Not that trusting, then.

“What do you want?” Darius demanded.

“Are you Captain Grand?” the other captain asked.

“I am. Who are you, and what do you want?”

“I am Captain Gorman of Ocean’s Gate,” he turned and looked at Serhan. “And you must be the Seneschal, Serhan.”

Serhan said nothing.

“I am here to offer you terms for surrender,” Gorman said.

“Why would we be surrendering?” Darius asked.

“You are outnumbered, trapped, your only way out is across the ford and I have over two hundred men in your way. My archers are on the hills around you. You are trapped.” He turned again to Serhan. “How does it feel to be defeated, Seneschal? My terms are these; you and the captain will give yourselves up to us. Your men can go free.”

“You overestimate your position, Captain, and you lie to us. Your lord has broken the rules of fair conflict, and if even one of my men gets back to White Rock you will all suffer greatly. You have no choice but to try to kill us all.” Serhan could feel his anger rising again.

“So it must be,” the captain said. “I just wanted to be sure that I could identify your body.”

“You are ahead of yourself, captain. I am harder to kill than you imagine.”

“You think this will end any other way?”

“It will. You will die before I do, captain. Even if you run and hide in Borbonil’s bed chamber I will wet my blade in your guts. Have no doubt.”

Captain Gorman stepped back as though pushed by the force of Serhan’s words, and there was just a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes.

“Your boasts will come to nothing. Some of my men swore that you were Faer Karan, but you are just a man, and you will die like one.”

“Not in your lifetime.” Serhan knew what he was going to do now. As he was trading threats with Captain Gorman the plan had assembled itself in his mind. His anger faded, and a cold certainty took its place. He was smiling now, and that seemed to discomfit Gorman even more.

“This parley is over,” Darius said.

Gorman spat on the ground and turned on his heel. The lieutenant who was with him seemed uncertain what to do, but bowed briefly to Serhan.

“Lord Seneschal,” he said. “Some of us are motivated by duty; nothing more. Remember that when battle is joined.”

They withdrew from the point of parley and took up their positions back behind the bend of the canyon. Hours remained until nightfall, and they spent it watching the canyon’s walls for the promised archers, but by the time the sky darkened there had been no sign of them.

Serhan waited. With nightfall the routine of the besiegers would change, but it would be some time before most of them had taken to their bedrolls and fallen prey to dreams of victory. He ate a slender meal with Darius and the men, but encouraged them to build a big fire, and to sing cheerful songs. He knew that it would put the enemy on edge.

Close to the middle of the night he indicated to Darius that he was going to leave them. His friend came with him to the canyon’s bend.

“Have care,” he said. “Beyond the place where we spoke with the captain you are in plain sight of their camp. Even by starlight they may see you.”

“I am confident, Darius,” he replied.

He slipped along the wall, pressing his back to it until he reached the corner, where he crouched down behind the largest rock that he could find and spoke the spell that granted him invisibility.

Now was the time. He stood and walked confidently down towards the camp, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of Shadow Cutter. In the camp he studied the layout and established where the guards patrolled – all on the side facing the canyon, they felt secure in the rear. He studied the river, too, and found that it was deep and swift apart from the wider section that was the ford. It was a good trap that had been sprung on them.

As quietly as he could he picked up five swords from where they lay beside their sleeping owners and carried them to the river, where he let them slip down into a deep pool. He went back and picked up another five and disposed of them, then another five. After two hours of carrying and dropping swords into the river he was tired, but there were none left. Over two hundred of the men were disarmed. Where men had been awake or restless he had used the freezing spell that he remembered from Gerique’s use of it at Ocean’s Gate.

Now he looked for bows, and they, too, went into the river, downstream of the ford where they could float away unnoticed on the swift, dark current.

There was nothing that he could do about the men standing watch. They were armed and would remain so until morning when the watch was due to change. He could have killed them, but it seemed a poor thing to do to kill a man who had no chance to defend himself or surrender, so he left them alone. They would fight, come morning, but they would not be enough.

There was one more thing to do.

He walked back through the camp, passing among dozens of sleeping and resting men. Some were awake, unaware that they were also unarmed. He found captain Gorman sleeping peacefully, secure in the knowledge of his coming victory. Serhan had decided that he would make an exception for Gorman. He had promised the man death, and that word would have got around the men in the camp by now. These things had a way of spreading. He knew that with their captain dead it would take them longer to organise.