When Tholla’s infantry had crossed three quarters of the distance, the Earmund troops charged and met them. Despite their apparent disorganization they met the enemy troops with tenacious resistance. However, the superior discipline of the regulars seemed overwhelming and soon began pushing the Earmunders back. Porknoy raised his arm to signal his cavalry to engage. Tholla countered, starting forward two hundred of his own horsemen. The Earmund horses were closer to the action and were able to make one pass into Tholla’s infantry line, allowing their own to disengage. The Earmunders retreated hastily, running from the field while Porknoy sought to control them. The Pozzelbian cavalry reached the fighting and forced the Earmund horsemen to flee the field as well.
“What do you think Colonel?” asked Tholla’s first officer.
Tholla believed in the possibility that Porknoy might have acquired something incriminating and had already decided that they would not be allowed to escape. However, he had to avoid appearing overly eager to shed the blood of his countrymen or his own men’s loyalty might waver. But the brief engagement and rout had his men eager for pursuit.
“After them!” he ordered. “They have defied the king in armed rebellion. I will not be satisfied until they have surrendered or are otherwise defeated. Have the horses run them down.”
The royal army forces had three hundred horses total, including the reserves. Their ranks were reformed and then Tholla started them forward with the infantry following. He held back only his archers and two hundred footmen, leaving six hundred to go after the Earmunders.
In charge of the Pozzelbian horsemen was one Major Cranford. He noted that the terrain was becoming more closed, but since he still had his eyes on what looked like the entirety of the fleeing Earmund forces he kept his men moving forward. Even when he saw that they appeared to be heading into a dead end, rather than be wary, he was overjoyed—there was still plenty of room for his men to operate and the Earmunders were trapped by the high sandstone walls. Confidently, he ordered his troops ahead to engage the enemy.
“We’ve got them now,” he said. “I will give them one chance to surrender. If they refuse, we’ll run these rebels down.”
He rode out ahead of the rest of the cavalry. He noted that the infantry was catching up and filling in behind his horsemen. The Earmunders were gravely outnumbered and now trapped. Unless they were fools as well as rebels, they would have no choice but to surrender. Lieutenant Porknoy came forward to meet him.
“You have but one chance to surrender your men, Lieutenant,” said the cavalry officer.
“Major, I was going to say the same thing to you,” Porknoy said smiling. “You might want to look up.”
The Pozzelbian officer looked up to the edges of the sandstone cliffs; he was dismayed to see it lined with Earmund archers. His men had noticed as well. Some of them had tried to retreat, but found the way blocked by the troops from Mirall. Now it was his troops that were outnumbered and surrounded.
“Major, if you surrender I give you my word that you and your men will be treated well and released soon,” said Porknoy, who then leaned in and added, “Also, when this is over and the truth is out, ending this with unnecessary bloodshed will look like a wise move on your part—you’re on the wrong side, Major, and that will be apparent soon.”
The whole situation was as unpalatable as his wife’s baking. But just as he had no choice but to eat his wife’s cakes, the major saw no viable way out of this. The Earmunder’s had twice as many men at their disposal than they had been told to expect and had outmaneuvered the Pozzelbian them.
“Well done, Lieutenant. My sword is yours.”
“It shall be yours again soon. If you would order your men to lay down their arms.”
Once the Pozzelbian force had been disarmed and placed under a guard of two hundred archers above with infantry guarding the mouth of the valley, Porknoy led his horsemen back to Colonel Tholla’s position. Tholla had no cavalry left, and the Earmunders tore through the infantry and archers that he had held in reserve. Whenever possible, the Earmund horsemen accepted the surrenders of the individual soldiers who laid down their weapons. Tholla, stunned by the reversal, attempted to flee the field. He was run down by six of the Earmund horsemen. They attempted to force his surrender, but he refused to quit. The horsemen surrounded Tholla’s mount and forced it to slow. It was a trained war horse and inclined to fight, but the horse knew a hopeless thing even if its master did not. Once they had him stopped he was quickly subdued, knocked unconscious by a pommel blow to the back of his neck.
The captured troops were taken to where the others were already under guard. Now Porknoy had another problem. He could force them to camp here and leave a guard behind, or he could have them taken back to Earmund Castle. Either solution would require Porknoy to dedicate at least a quarter of his force to caring for the prisoners. From the sound of things, every man would be needed in defense of the king.
He had to consider other alternatives. Porknoy would have loved to recruit any willing soldiers from among the enemies. If this was a storybook then he would somehow prove to them that his was the right side and they, realizing their mistake, would eagerly switch their loyalties. The reality was that he had no proof to show them and he would not be able to trust any man who would so readily switch his allegiance. General Till’s men were notoriously loyal. But they were his countrymen and they were doing right as far as they knew—he felt that he could trust them enough to be released on recognizance if they vowed to return home and forgo any further involvement with the current conflict, including that currently being fought at the castle. Such a release of prisoners was common enough under the conventions of war. Only a man utterly without honor would break such an oath.
By nightfall, the prisoners had been dispensed of and at dawn Porknoy’s force would be able to continue onto Pozzelby Castle. The exception had been Tholla. Porknoy had instinctively hesitated to release him. He felt it would be safer to keep the Colonel. He had also had the idea to take the uniforms and insignia of the Pozzelbian troops, the glimmer of an idea forming in his mind.
****
Francis went to the edge of the balcony and withdrew a metal flask. The alchemist carefully twisted a knob on the bottom and sharp spikes rose from the surface. He depressed the lid and dropped the flask toward the ascending monster. The flask struck the beast in the head and exploded loudly, sending the metal spikes flying in all directions at tremendous speeds. The Gasparion’s head was blown back and three of the tentacles came unstuck, leaving the monster dangling by a single, thick appendage. Spikes stuck in its torso and one had been driven right through the skull. It hung there limp for a moment, but then I watched in dismay as the three loose tentacles twisted to life and affixed themselves again to the side of the tower. Then, bloodied and scorched, the Gasparion began to climb toward us again.
I felt suddenly cold, and then a silvery light flashed from atop the Sunrise Tower and lit up the mountain and the sky. Specks of silver light hung in the clouds like living mercury. They swirled and expanded, then exploded in a hundred phosphorescent flashes that hurtled back toward the castle and took shape as they did. They became birds, resembling eagles, but sparkling silver and white, and twice as large as any eagles that I had ever seen. Several passed the balcony on which I stood; a blast of air as cold as the far reaches of Angren followed in their wake.
The silver birds fell on the Gasparion of Mascalon five to one and attacked them with razor claws, beaks, and deadly cold. The Gasparion were forced to pay attention to these attackers and ceased their assault on Pozzelby Castle. However, they had already done a considerable amount of structural damage to the outer walls and doors.
The Twelve Sect Order army took this as the signal to begin the assault. Several catapults launched missiles of heavy stone. At least three of them targeted the Sunrise Tower. One struck the very top of the tower, blasting back fragments of shar
p marble and dislodging whole stones. Two other stones struck a little lower, one very close to our balcony. It shook tremendously and I was thrown to the floor. The stones split and the balcony began to fall away from the tower. Ardbeg scrambled off, pulling Francis and Brin along with him. I felt myself falling, but only for a second—Myrick reached out and caught my wrist and pulled me back into the tower.
“My mother, we have to go to the roof,” I gasped.
The roof was a mess; half of it had collapsed into the lower floor, making the stairs very difficult to traverse. I saw my mother lying on her back near the rear edge of the tower, amidst dust, debris, and larger rocks. There was blood on her face, but she was conscious.
“Mother!” I shouted, running across the roof to her. Just then another missile struck the tower, shaking the roof and shifting the rubble.
“I’m not hurt too badly,” she said. “Just weakened from summoning the riveen. Help me up.”
Ardbeg and I helped my mother to stand. When another boulder hit near the top, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her down while the rest of us followed.
The base of the tower was a mess and when we reached the hallway it was worse. An outer door had been breached and a handful of guards were futilely attempting to keep the enemy from making entry. The route to the north hall was blocked by debris. The only way we could escape was in the opposite direction, into a portion of the castle that had been evacuated. We fled down it as quickly as we could, just as the soldiers of Tabor Till’s army came surging through the breach. They saw us and began to pursue.
Our lead was rapidly dwindling. Myrick took the rear guard position. Leading us, of all people, was Brin.
“Do you have any idea where you’re going?” I asked her.
“I think so, come on,” she said, leading us along a twisting, narrow corridor deeper into the castle. We came to a small, stout-looking door. “In here.”
The door stuck. It did not seem to be locked, but Brin couldn’t get it open. I helped her, putting my shoulder into it. The door opened suddenly and we spilled inside in a heap. Francis and Ardbeg, who was still carrying Emily, followed.
“There is a hidden passage,” said Brin, “behind the painting of Otto Ewerd.”
“They’re nearly upon us. I’ll hold them off,” Myrick said. “Get inside and close the entrance. Don’t argue!”
Myrick went back into the hall. Immediately, I heard the sound of fighting. Francis was feeling around the edge of the painting of Otto Ewerd.
“Brin, how do we get in?” he asked.
She ran across the room, her gem illuminating the way, to where an unlit torch hung between two smaller paintings. I expected her to pull, turn, or otherwise manipulate the torch. That seemed like the obvious lever to me. Instead, she lifted up the bottom of a painting—I think it was Queen Chele’s brother, Benvellis Carin—and pressed something on the wall. The whole section of wall from which the Otto Ewerd painting hung swung out silently and revealed a dark, cobweb-filled passage beyond.
Francis, Brin, and I entered the dusty corridor. Ardbeg sat my mother down inside. She could stand if she leaned on me.
“Get away from this room,” said the earl. “I am going to help Myrick. We’ll follow soon.”
I was inclined to wait right there. Myrick and Earl Ardbeg faced a great many foes. Francis and Emily overruled me, king or not.
We slowly traversed the narrow, musty corridor. The dust hung heavy and my nose began to itch and I found myself coughing.
“Brin, where does this come out?”
She paused. “I’ve only gone through here once. It leads into the old castle. It was through here where I encountered the monster I told you about. There is no other way out—it connects the room we left to a ballroom that was built by King Gavin the Clubfooted.”
None of us particularly wanted to go traipsing through the old castle at the moment. My mother was hurt, Francis was tired, and important things were afoot that needed our attention. Before we went forward, I had to be sure that we shouldn’t go back. Telling my companions to stay put, I went back to where we had entered the passage. Before I tried to open the door, I listened and heard a great ruckus on the other side—loud voices, metal clanging against stone, tramping feet—enemy soldiers. Somehow, they had gotten past Myrick and Ardbeg, which probably meant that they were dead. I desperately hoped that it was not the case, but I knew that there was nothing I could do for them now, alive or dead. The soldiers knew that we had gone into the room and were searching. It was only a matter of time before they found the passage.
Quietly, I walked back to my companions. The game had been going on for weeks, and now that the battle was engaged my enemy had very nearly put me in checkmate. I was left with only one move—I had to castle.
Chapter Twelve
A forgotten fact about King Theof is that, before becoming a co-king of Pozzelby and a hero of the realm, he was a consummate thief, an unusual profession for one of the noble elves of the Elon. However, he was always true to his race and was a highly selective thief, as given to using his skills for pranks as for actual theft. Despite that, Theof was something of an outsider in the elven community—he associated almost exclusively with humans and, rumor has it, was not a lover of all of nature’s things—apparently he was not fond of spiders.
Excerpted from J. R. Grimble’s Pozzelby: A History
We passed through the ballroom in which Brin had encountered her monster. By now, all traces of that confrontation had long since been covered by dust. But there were other tracks to see. Mostly, these were the prints of rodents—rats and mice. There was one set of larger prints though, twice as wide a big man’s with a long, shuffling stride. I hoped that we didn’t run into whatever had left those prints.
Francis searched his pockets and found a ceramic bottle.
“Brin’s light is very useful, but we don’t want to draw attention to ourselves. Take a sip of this; there is enough for the four of us—it will allow us to see in the dark for about an hour,” Francis said.
He took a tiny sip and passed the bottle around. When it was my turn, I drank down a small amount—the liquid inside was oily with an unpleasant, metallic aftertaste.
“Brin, douse your light,” said Francis.
She extinguished her gem and we were in darkness.
“Give your eyes a moment to adjust,” my old friend said.
Sure enough after about ten seconds, I began to be able to make out the details of my surroundings. After a minute I could see about as well as one could outside during a full moon. Shapes were discernible, but colors were rather washed out.
Based on the direction that we had come from, we decided that we should try to keep to our right to get back to somewhere familiar and to avoid going too deeply into the old portions of the castle. Once we heard a faint echo that sounded like the roar of some great beast. It was to our left, north we hoped. We stopped and listened for several minutes, but heard nothing else.
It seemed like we had been in this empty, forgotten place for hours, but we could still see without aid, so it had to be less than an hour. Still we did not come to anyplace that seemed familiar. One good thing was that my mother felt stronger as we went. When she was able to walk by herself, I drew my short sword; I might not have been able to use it very well, but I felt safer having it out.
The hall that we were in ended in a staircase that led up. We decided to take the stairs—it was that or go back. Halfway up, my vision started to dim.
“Francis, my sight is fading. Do you have any more of your potion?”
“No. We’re going to have to risk the light.”
We made it to the next landing. Just before my eyes had gone completely dark, I saw that we were in some sort of hall with what I thought were suits of armor or statues standing erect. Brin took her crystal out and it flared to life. I saw with some excitement that what I had t
aken for armor or statues, were actually chess pieces as large as men. The center of the room was dominated by a large, inlaid chessboard. There were chairs on either side, presumably where the players and spectators sat. I noticed that a black bishop and a white rook were lying broken on the floor. However, the only piece missing from the board was the white rook—somewhere there must be replacement pieces. We walked past the board carefully. If we survived this, I vowed that I would reopen this part of the castle.
As I walked past, I noticed that one of the black bishops did not look quite like the others. The hat was a little different—in fact it looked something like...
I started to shout just as the bishop began to shimmer. In a heartbeat, it became Doctor Ahem. During the confused second when we were off-balance, he reached out and grabbed my wrist and Brin’s as well. Then there was a twisting sensation of disorientation and the next thing that I knew, Emily and Francis were gone and the room had changed. We were alone with Doctor Ahem. I tried to lunge at him with my sword, but found myself frozen like a statue.
Doctor Ahem began to laugh. We were in some kind of salon and he sat down on the edge of a moldy couch. Brin’s crystal was still shining and in its light I could see that Doctor Ahem looked haggard; his face was gaunt and he seemed thinner, even though it had only been a day, maybe two since I had seen him last.
“What a wonderful chance encounter,” the doctor said. “Summoning the withsperi that last time drained me considerably. Twice in a fortnight, it might have killed a lesser mage. As it was I had to find somewhere that I could recover for a few days. I’ve spent enough time in the old castle to know I could stay hidden in here forever. But I never dreamed that fate would deliver you both to me so conveniently. Nothing to say to that? Oh, I forgot; you can’t speak. Here let me fix that.”
He made a pass with his hand and I found that I could control my head again, though my body remained frozen. Brin’s condition appeared to be the same as mine.
“You were the one who killed my family!”