Chapter 26: Air of defeat
It hurt to breathe, and yet he could not stop breathing, the
heat of the day and the deep wound telling him he would not soon survive.
As captain of Ajax’s counter attack, he should have anticipated
something like this, the trap within eh trap, the attack from behind and two
sides as he led his troops against the glare of the sun into what turned out to
be an empty village.
The savages swarmed over his men in a wave of rage,
screaming beasts striking his men down even fore they could turn to face the
assault, men dead even before they hit the earth, each whimpering with mortal wounds
like children, their armor of no use against the lances and arrows with which
the natives expertly struck.
Who knew they could be so clever? Mere savages! As brilliant
a move as any the Captain had ever seen, on either side of this perpetual war.
He had thought his kind were so superior, and that the
natives could never out think his kind, but they had, striking once, twice and
then again in a cross current leaving fewer and fewer of the Captain’s men
standing, too few to ward off the additional attacks, even after they became
aware of what had happened.
Mere savages!
It hurt to breathe. The lance had found the weak link of his
armor and gone straight to the heart, if not through it, then close enough to
bring on slow death, buckling him at the knees, leaving him kneeling before the
attack as if praying to them as gods.
Maybe they were gods, he thought. Maybe we had it wrong the
whole time, misunderstand the power these horse people had.
For this alone he deserved to die, failing to read them,
failing to advise his prince on the danger. But how could he when he was not aware
of it himself.
If there was any blessing in all of this, it was that the
prince – who riding in out of the sun – better evaluated what transpired, and
with all of the power of his riders, blasted through the native attack, losing very
few, although his numbers when they arrived on the hill top could not muster a
counter attack to save the Captain or any of those who fought and died beside
him.
The captain had glimpsed the mighty prince perched on his
steed, looking down the hill, a mighty figure, yet not mighty enough to overcome
the miscalculation. He would have to ride away, regroup nearer to home, and perhaps
build up the defense of Land Gate in anticipation of an attack there.
The captain gasped. A shooting pain roared through him. He tried
to keep from breathing but needed to breathe.
He felt the numbness coming, his feet and in his legs, even
as he knelt, and knew soon it would rise up through him – almost welcome – as it
erased the pain and brought death.
Lucky Prince Ajax escaped. He will bring vengeance, if
anyone can.
*****************
Whispers sounded in the hall outside Ely’s chamber, followed
by the rattle of keys and finally, the moan of the heavy oak door drawing open,
a door Ely had not seen closed or locked, but apparently done in the middle of
the night at the order of the king.
Through the dark gap, backlighted by the flickering of a
torch in the hall, a broad-shouldered shadow filled the door frame briefly in a
hurried yet cautious entrance.
Ely did not recognize the figure at first, until the large
man came into the flickering light of the chamber itself and revealed the granite-like
features of the Amlorian captain, the silver braids on each shoulder glistened
in the dim light.
“Ursal!” Ely cried and leaped up from the bed.
“Hush, sire,” the bulky captain said, holding*- a thick finger to his lips as he glanced nervously
over his shoulder at the hall from which he had just come. “It is not safe. I have
called in many favors to reach you. But these may not hold if the tower captain
hears us, who fears the king’s wrath, even though we’ve both been in the king’s
services for many years.”
The prince and the captain hugged, the powerful sinews of Ely’s
old friend testimony to how well the captain had lived up to his promise from
their days as youths, he seen my many as the third most valiant warrior in all
Amlor, behind Ely and Ajax.
Ely considered Ursal his closest friend
Ursal’s brown hair and pale eyes defied the typical bland
imprint of an Amlorian, causing Ely to frequently joke the man must have
descended from the elves, although most likely – as a resident of the delta
region where people differed in color and physical stature, blown in from some far-off
place over the vast seas long ages before.
Other, grayer Amlorians – especially those bred in the
mountains – had great distain for Ursal’s people, and it took much for someone
like Ursal to rise as high in the ranks as he had, proving himself again and
again, winning few friends, but much respect even among his enemies. He had
great skill and the intelligence when to fight and when not to.
But sometimes even this drew suspicion, since Ursal gave his
loyalty not to a kingdom, but to men he came to respect, and for whom he would
lay down his life if necessary – especially for Ely, who he had come to love
and respect. He did not like or trust the king, and trusted Ajax even less.
“I came as soon as I could,” Ursal said, settling near the
window in such a way that he could glance out it, and still keep an eye on the
door. “I have news about your brother.”
“He was missing last I heard,” Ely said, settling back down
onto the bed. “But he often wandered afar in search of glory.”
“As he did this time,” Ursal said. “Only this time, others
got the glory at his expense.”
Ely glanced up sharply, reading the dark almost satisfied
look in Ursal’s eyes.
“What happened?” Ely asked.
“Prince Ajax tried to slaughter an encampment of natives,”
Ursal said.
“Yes,” Ely said. “He has done as much before.”
“This time, everything went wrong, and he fell into their
trap. They apparently had brought up tribes from the south and waited for him.”
“Is my brother harmed?”
“No, not Prince Ajax. Even a trap could not contain him with
his fighting skills. But he’s angry – like I’ve never seen before.”
Ely could imagine the foul temper such a defeat would cause
in his brother, a rage that would not be satisfied with retreat.
“He is gathering forces to attack them back?”
“Aye, lord, he is,” Ursal said. “The king has heard the news
as well but does not yet know where Ajax is. He has ordered all of his captains
here to assemble the army to ride east to find Ajax and render his assistance.”
“All of you?”
“All who can mount a steed.”
“And who is left behind to defend the capitol?”
“Very few, I’m afraid.”
“Then Blyord was right when he believed the attacks on Land
Gate were a diversion to lure our armies away on a pointless fight while Htam
makes its way up the coast with its fleets.”
“It would seem so, Lord,” Ursal said. “But I’m afraid the
news is much graver.”
“How so?”
“Just as he arrived back at the two towers near Land Gate, a
rider – a guard from this chamber – arrived with a message from the wizard.”
This time Ely’s body reacted, stiffening as a wave of dread
ran through him, and he stared at Ursal terrified of the news he knew the good
captain was about to impart.
“The wizard sent message to Ajax to prevent me from obtaining
the sword,” Ely said. “That much the wizard has told me, though since then he’s
had a change of heart.”
“Change or heart or not, lord, the news arrived at Land Gate
at the exact worst moment when Prince Ajax was in the worst of moods, reminding
him – if he ever forgot – about the sword.”
“No, he would not forget the sword. He is consumed by it,
wanting to possess it more than life,” Ely said.
“And possess it, he will, if you do nothing to stop him.”
“What do you mean?”
“From what I’ve heard he’s on his way to get it, if he has
not gotten it already in the delay of my arriving here.”
Ely leaped to his feet.
“This indeed is the worst of news. Ajax cannot grasp the sword.
It is cursed. Only the true heir can take it, and only after the king has died.”
“There is some dispute about that claim,” Ursal said. “Some
believe the heir can take the sword now that the king has relinquished his
claim on it.”
“That may be so,” Ely said. “But I’m heir, not Ajax.”
“He is your twin brother,” Ursal said. “Many believe either
of you might wield the sword since you have come from the same womb together.”
“If he takes the sword, he will cause great harm,” Ely said.
“Especially if he is as full of rage as you claim.”
“More rage than I’ve ever seen,” Ursal said. “You need to stop
him before he spreads that rage throughout the south.”
“Stop him?” Ely said, waving his hand towards the door. “As
you see I’m a prisoner here myself.”
Ely began to pace.
If the curse on the sword was true, he might find his
brother dead. But he knew he had to make the trek, to seize the sword if Ajax
had not yet done so, or to attempt to talk reason with a brother whose rage
knew no reason.
“We can get you out of here, Lord,” Ursal said. “Although, heads
might roll later when the king finds out.”
“I do not wish to spill Amlorian blood to make my escape.”
“You need not,” Ursal said. “The wizard has helped make
arrangements. Come with me, Lord, while we still can.”
Comments
Post a Comment