The Line of Illeniel

Chapter 38

The morning went slowly onward. The trebuchet had reduced the upper section of the curtain wall near the bailey to rubble. What remained there was sagging inward and looked as if one or two more good hits would bring it crumbling down. Ordinarily we might have tried to brace it from the inside but we ignored the damage. The sooner it came down the better.

The men behind the wooden palisade looked increasingly nervous. They could sense the impending rush that would come once our defense was breached. Dorian and Cyhan walked among them constantly, doing their best to bolster their confidence.

Penny followed me constantly, refusing to get more than twenty foot away. She’s starting to remind me of a vulture, I thought uncharitably. I could hardly meet her eyes anymore; every knowing glance brought her near to tears.

Through it all the one thing that worried me most was the lack of any sort of magical attack from the enemy. I had already faced two of Mal’goroth’s channelers, so I had a good idea he probably had more. I searched among the enemy constantly with my mind, seeking the dark aura’s that might alert me to their presence, but I found nothing. Even with their limited abilities they should have been able to pick off some of our men if they tried, yet none had. That made me anxious because it meant the enemy might be planning something.

Another great stone went whistling overhead. This one struck solidly at the base of the weakened portion of the curtain wall. For a second nothing happened, and then the wall collapsed inward. An area more than twenty foot wide was open now, with nothing more than a pile of stone rubble to prevent a man from entering. “That should be it,” I said to myself.

Penny tugged at my sleeve, “Don’t expose yourself.”

“I don’t plan to,” I replied. “Do you think it will save me?”

“Just don’t do it, maybe I was wrong, maybe…,” her eyes were wide with fear.

“I’ll do my best, but I’ve learned to trust your visions. Whatever happens… happens,” I told her.

A shout went up from the men along the palisade. The enemy had begun their advance. I left her there and went to stand beside them, watching the approach of the men of Gododdin. “Hold your fire damnit!” screamed Dorian. Some of the men had begun shooting early. “Wait till I give the order!”

The footmen were running toward us across the field, growing closer with each step. The tension in the men around me was nearly unbearable. They held their bows with arrows nocked, waiting for the order to fire. After what seemed an impossibly long time Dorian finally gave the command, “Fire at will!”

Five hundred men rose up and began loosing their shafts. The enemy was only a hundred yards distant now and the steel headed arrows fell among them with deadly effect. Men fell only to be trampled by their companions. More arrows flew and more fell, but the men of Gododdin came on anyway. At fifty yards few missed and now we could hear the cries of the fallen. Still they came on and after one more volley they reached the palisade.

Running down into the ditch men stumbled and struggled to rise. Our arrows were still striking them with lethal effect. Within moments those behind them were climbing up, struggling to get past the sharpened stakes that guarded the mound of earth we stood behind. Their ballistae began firing again, sending deadly bolts three feet in length into the defenders.

The enemy was pressing against the short palisade walls now, the sheer weight of their numbers beginning to push it over in places. The defenders of Washbrook had switched to spears, stabbing at those trying to get past our defense. In the end it was a futile effort. Desperate fights broke out at various points as the flimsy wall collapsed and the enemy began streaming in among us.

“Fall back! Into the castle!” Dorian yelled above noise of the fighting men.

I brought up my staff and began sweeping the enemy near where I stood with lines of fire, clearing the area for twenty feet near where I stood. Stepping up to the top of the earthen mound I looked over the field of men. I reached into my pouch brought out a handful of small iron spheres. Each one was no larger than the end of a grown man’s thumb. With a word and a puff of air I began sending them out to strike various points along the outside of what remained of the palisade. As each reached its destination I spoke again, releasing the energy held within it. Each one blossomed into a small explosion of fire, killing everyone within ten feet of it. I hoped to give the men enough time to retreat.

Arrows fell around me, and some struck my shield, but to no effect. There was little they could do to stop me. I felt an evil laugh bubbling up from somewhere inside as I killed men by tens and twenties. I hardly noticed the flare of purple as the channelers among the enemy suddenly became active.

Penelope Illeniel watched the men streaming past her as the defense began to fall apart. She only had eyes for one man, the one standing madly atop the earthen mound, sending fire and death out to greet the enemy. You idiot! she thought to herself, I told you not to expose yourself. She started to run towards him, to pull him down when a new vision blinded her.

She stood transfixed for a minute, unable to move as her gift showed her the future. It was much the same as before, but now it held a choice, where before there had been nothing but unstoppable fate she could see a new path; one that would lead to a different outcome. She made her choice without hesitation. Blinking she took in the scene around her and began running toward Mordecai once again. I have to hurry! she thought. A hand on her arm stopped her.

“You’re going the wrong way!” Cyhan yelled at her. His grip seemed impossibly strong, especially now that she no longer had the bond.

She shook her head, “No! I have to tell him something! Let go!” She struggled to break the big man’s grip. As she did she met his gaze, and as she looked on his face his eyes widened.

“Your eyes,” he said suddenly. “What have you done?”

“What I had to do!” she screamed at him. With a twist she broke free and backed away, trying to get closer to where Mordecai still stood.

Cyhan’s sword was out and there was a dangerous look in his eyes, “You’ve betrayed your oath girl.” He took a step toward her and his sword flicked out, seeking her head.

Penelope’s old sword was gone, but she had taken a new one, and she met his blade with her own. Though she no longer had the strength and speed the bond had given her she still had learned much about swordplay. “What are you doing?” she demanded.

“What you should have done,” Cyhan answered tonelessly. His sword struck again, almost beating her frantic block aside, and before she could recover his foot snaked forward to sweep her from her feet. Leaping past her he ran for Mordecai’s unsuspecting back.

With a strength born of desperation Penny reached out and caught his ankle, causing him to tumble and fall. As he fell she pulled herself up and struck him solidly in one kidney. Cyhan gasped and twisted catching her across the jaw with a poorly aimed swing. She flung herself at him like a madwoman fighting with all the strength she still possessed.

The fight was over in seconds. The larger warrior caught her by the hair and planted a fist in her belly, doubling her over with pain as the air was forced from her lungs. He rose while she struggled to breathe and spat at the ground, “I taught you better than that.” Before he could strike again, a voice from behind stopped him cold.

“Whose side are you on?” Dorian asked… a quiet fury in his tone.

“Get out of my way Thornbear, your wizard has crossed the line,” Cyhan warned him. Fire flared and an explosion nearby underscored his words.

“Are you alright Penny?” Dorian said, looking past his opponent.

Cyhan struck the moment Dorian’s eyes left him, his sword sweeping up to catch the younger man before he could defend himself. He didn’t count on his opponent’s speed however. Dorian sidestepped the thrust and brought his own blade to bear. Steel flashed as the two men began to fight in earnest.

Penny rose and began to make her way toward Mordecai, keeping a wary eye on the deadly struggle playing out before her. The two warriors seemed evenly matched to the untrained eye, while Cyhan possessed skill and grace obtained over a lifetime of training Dorian had a natural talent with the sword and his youth and speed made up for what he lacked in experience. Penny knew better though, her own training had taught her to read the flow of a battle and she could see that Dorian was close to losing. With each exchange he was left slightly off balance, struggling to get his sword back into position in time to meet the next sweep of Cyhan’s blade.

The two men had practiced together before this, but their faces were a picture of deadly determination now, this was not a practice bout. A silence fell over the field as they fought, as though the war itself had stopped out of respect for their individual battle, then Penny realized what had actually happened. The explosions had stopped. Looking up she could see Mordecai had gone still, his body tense, as if he were struggling against some titanic force while he stood in plain view of the enemy. With a cry she began running, trying to reach him before it was too late.

Meanwhile Dorian continued his losing battle. The man he faced was more skillful than anyone he had ever met and despite his best efforts he couldn’t keep Cyhan’s blade from reaching him forever. Another pass of their swords and sparks flew as the older man’s blade ran along his arm striking the mail Mordecai had enchanted for him. In that moment Dorian knew what he had to do. You better have been right about this armor Mort, he thought silently. Dorian slipped and almost lost his footing, leaving himself wide open on his left side. Quicker than thought Cyhan’s blade was there driving in at Dorian’s unprotected stomach. The force of the thrust was such that it should have gone through Dorian’s armor, but the enchantment held. Instead Dorian felt a blow, as if he had been punched in the stomach, but he had been ready for that. Catching the end of the sword in his mailed fist he swung his own sword downward at the trapped blade and his enchanted steel cut cleanly through it, leaving the older warrior holding a foreshortened stub of a weapon.

Surprise lit Cyhan’s face for a second and Dorian’s sword swung back. If it had connected it might have severed his head but he threw himself backward before it reached him. He was left with a deep cut across his cheek and nose. Gritting his teeth in pain he cast about seeking a weapon as Dorian advanced on him again. He never saw the heavy pole that struck him from behind. He collapsed wordlessly to the ground.

Marcus dropped the heavy pole he had taken from the fallen palisade and gave Dorian a smile, “I owed him one.” His smile vanished as he saw what was happening atop the earthen mound.