Jadde - The Fragile Sanctuary (31 page)

     ‘Now’, the officer announced to the
archers with fiery arrows. She stood to watch because her hands were so numb they
were incapable of more healing.

     The trench was full of scuttling black
shapes that hissed and ran at the steep bank nearest her. Oil splashed in
liquid black from the barrels and sprayed along the trench and over the horde.
Fire arrows ignited the flood, other arrows fired the oil saturated ropes and
barrels. The bulky barrels erupted with an oily choking smoke. They were heaved
into the unseen ditch, from where agonising demon shrieks and screams assaulted
her ears. Roasted quarter-men tried to clamber in all directions to avoid a fiery
death but were quickly consumed. Further along the ditch three more barrels spilt
sending flaming waves to meet in the middle of the ditch, splashing fire like a
red-hot rainstorm. Dozens of quarter-men died writhing in the flames and smoke,
others spiralled in a grotesque flaming dance emitting high pitched wails.
Still others ran onto the stakes atop the earthen barrier. The survivors were
picked off with arrows from archers. Occasionally a warrior was downed by a
slash or bite and fell into the fire. Black smoke billowed around, forming
strange shapes that seemed alive; it enveloped Seara and she choked, and lost
sight of the ghastly slaughter. A smouldering demon staggered toward her from
the acrid cloud. She drew Olaff’s bow and downed it with a single shot to its blistered
face.

The sun had turned red in the smoke and
through the blistering clouds demons jumped, slew, and then died. The warriors
were tiring and Seara’s highsense was still exhausted. Again she drew Olaff’s
bow and downed two demons that had fought their way through the defence
perimeter.

Four warriors formed up either side of her
and fought off two demons. Another demon lunged at her, slashing at her thigh
but a Wolf warrior finished it with a huge spear thrust through joints in its
carapace.

Olaff’s bow downed another. The smoke began
to clear revealing small bands of warriors fighting never ending surges of demons.

‘Back over the bridge, quickly,’ a wounded
officer shouted and gestured with his good arm. She looked around, it was dark
now and the scene was lit by spots of burning oil and flickering fire-arrows.
The moon was appearing through diminishing smoke and in its reflection hordes
of fresh quarter-men approached.

Arms grabbed Seara and thrust her along amidst
a group of Celembrie and Brightwater warriors. She looked over to where her
women helpers had been tending the wounded. A warrior next to her shouted that
the women and casualties had already been helped away.

     She was over the bridge and without
thinking she had shot an arrow at a rushing demon. Two warriors fought it, one
died the other prevailed.

     Somehow the Lighthouse Bridge was alight
in three places along the supporting tree-trunks. The thick wood refused to weaken
although the fire appeared to have a hold. Men fought demons across the span
and around it. Smoke and sparks swirled over them and bodies fell tumbling into
the watery gorge beneath.

Then the demons broke through with a
collective shriek of triumph. And Seara found herself on a raised crag between
the burning bridge and the town.

It was time to organise as many woman and
children as she could: she had promised her father. As she decided, a fighting
rearguard of warriors to the east came into sight fighting bunched lines of demons
in an organised retreat. She spotted her father and shouted over to some women.

‘Gather your children and provisions, and go
to the Senate Hall. Quickly now,’ she added firmly.

She glanced downhill to her father who was
fighting his way slowly back in her direction. Waving Olaff’s bow, she ran
toward him, and loosed an arrow into a demon that approached him.

Then he was with her. He was covered in
minor wounds and panting with exhaustion. But he was with her and that was all
that mattered.

Together they ran back to the raised crag
as it gave all-round vision and seemed as good a place as any to make a stand.

She shouted a command.
‘People of the
tribes – stand fast – hold them - hold.’

Warriors gathered about her, rallying on
her figure as she stood silhouetted on the hillock with the last moments of a
red sunset behind her. Her father had a bloodied sword gripped in two shaking
hands. The group were about to be surrounded by demons.

     ‘Run, to the Senate Hall,’ she shouted
to women who had joined her. ‘I’ll be with you as soon as I can.’ They hesitated,
and then ran for all they were worth into the gathering night.

She was with nine warriors and her father on
the crowded mound. They faced outward giving each other as much room as
possible to wield swords and spears. Seara was in the middle; she kissed her father’s
cheek then notched an arrow in preparation.

The demons circled as if relishing their
final rush. Seara noticed in great detail their razor sharp fingers coated in
blood and the blades strapped to their feet or knees which they kicked out in expectation.
All had wide mouths hanging open and most were licking human blood from their
faces with long unpleasant tongues.

The night had arrived, only flames provided
light now.

She drew an arrow, aimed it and shot a demon
through the eye, it crumpled, stone dead.

‘That’s for Olaff,
’ she screamed and
drew another arrow.

More demons joined the circling group,
hissing and mouthing alien noises. The final rush was seconds away. A warrior
lost his mind in the waiting and run down the hillock with spear outstretched
and impaled a demon, but went down in a flurry of swipes.

As one the massed demons rushed uphill.

From nowhere a troop of horsemen crashed into
the quarter-men. Lances skewered then splintered. Then the riders slashed with
swords that glinted in the moonlight. Seara shot another demon as it ran at her
father.
‘Another for Olaff,
’ she screamed as demons smashed into her diminishing
shield of warriors. She ducked under a quarter-man’s flashing fingers, and lost
her balance in a seething mass of limbs. Seara tumbled downhill. A demon corpse
fell on top of her. She struggled to work free from beneath the stinking body, hindered
by the moving, twisting feet all around.

Horses leapt over, and then a new figure
stood above her, swinging a deadly sword. Demons tumbled, decapitated or with
severed limbs. Quarter-man blood fell like rain over her. Finally demon
screeching lessened and human oaths predominated. The figure spun amongst the remaining
demons felling them in a warriors rage. One fist held a bloodied sword the
other a fire-stick that roared with fearful magic.

Seara watching in fascination as the fire
stick’s magic ran out. The berserk warrior threw it at a monstrous fanged head;
then ran at two demons who tried to block his way to her and her father.

Then all of a sudden he was next to her and
the fight was over.

She sat dazed, amazed to be alive. The manic
sword wielding figure crouched and gently moved hair from her eyes.

It was Malkrin.

She stood shakily and looked urgently at
the heap of tangled bodies on the crag. Malkrin glanced where her fearful eyes
searched, and they both ran to the top throwing demon corpses downhill.

Halle lay at the bottom of the hideous
pile. He still breathed and his eyes flicked open. She laid her hands on the
first grievous wound; her depleted highsense erupted and began healing. But she
knew the mending could not work fast enough. His wounds were too severe – just
as dear Olaff’s had been.

‘Seara, beloved daughter, you survive,
thank Jadde,’ he muttered weakly, relief masked pain. His eyes moved to
Malkrin. ‘Malkrin, my friend,’ he whispered, ‘look after her.’

Seara lifted one cold hand and kissed it. She
felt tears stream down her cheeks, but all she could say in her grief was, ‘Father,
Father, Father.’

Malkrin gripped his friend’s other hand. Halle
smiled his thanks and drew his last breath.

CHAPTER
TWENTYFIVE

T
he sounds of fighting faded into the
distance as Brenna horsemen drove the quarter-men from the bridge area. Malkrin
carefully laid out his friend with the other fallen tribesmen and left Seara sitting
and holding her father’s hand.

He ordered Palreth to protect Seara then climbed
to the Lighthouse Bridge where people were dowsing the fires. The nearside wood
abutment that contained the library was scorched charcoal black but appeared
solid. The further side had fared worse with substantial burning, but the
blackened structure still held. He climbed the internal staircase to the library
and viewed the surroundings illuminated by the yellow light of the bridges
domes.

The demons had been cleared from the
immediate area, but in the distance toward the Pit of Vorbe he could see the
arc of fire-arrows merging into a large black shadow. Slightly nearer he could
see groups of black manoeuvring around horsemen. Gradually these Brenna riders
retreated through lines of Seconchane archers. Other bands of exhausted men
staggered back and formed into two defensive lines to the east of the villages.
He had to ensure the bridge was held or all the tribes would be trapped. But the
Seconchane men were slowly losing ground, they had bought time for the allied
tribes to regroup – but time was not enough.

He returned to Seara and Palreth, ‘I leave
to lead my men. If you see a collapse in our defence get over the bridge and
follow the track back to Cyprusnia, I will follow with as many people I can
save.’

‘I must bury my father then gather the
women and children from the Senate building first,’ Seara stated.

‘Very well. But be quick Seara. I don’t
think we will hold for much longer.’

 With that he left them and ran to a loose
horse, and rode to organise the defence.

That night he fought a huge defensive
battle. The allied tribesmen were exhausted, so he withdrew them in groups
through the Seconchane men to give them two hours respite. Childless women brought
up supplies of arrows and spears and tended to the men’s injuries. Others gave
them food and water, most then returned to the fight. But even so, the allied
tribes were gradually pressed back. He concentrated on keeping the ground clear
to and from the bridge, and kept a thin line of men commanded by Talgour along
the route to the town.

The first buildings started burning and quarter-men
began to filter through the streets in ones and twos, then small groups.
TrathWolf
appeared with nine warriors and
Malkrin requested he sweep the demons from the nearby streets.

‘I was about to suggest the same thing Outcast,’
he sneered and disappeared into a smoke filled alleyway.

Malkrin sent a runner to gather the Senate;
an hour later he returned with the two eldest members, the other Senate men and
women were fighting with companies of Brightwater men.

‘Fifth and Ninth of Senate, will you gather
what elderly citizens, women and children who have refused to evacuate, and
leave over the bridge now. I have ordered the Wolf carts to be harnessed to
horses. The elderly are loading them with the wounded and vital supplies now. My
men can hold off the demons for another hour, but dawn will show how thinly we are
spread. It will give the demons confidence to renew their assault.’

The burning house next to them started to
disintegrate; he pulled the two Senate members away into the alley. The men staggered
off coughing and wheezing, to their allotted tasks.

Malkrin fought at the head of his men
leading charge after charge to disrupt the quarter-men. The creatures ran in
all directions to get out of the way of the galloping horses.

A pale dawn rose and in the smoke and early
mist a terrible sight met Malkrin’s eyes. All around were corpses of people,
horses and demons. Some women still remained and they pulled the wounded into
carts, then added to the procession fleeing over the damaged bridge. Malkrin
gritted his teeth as a section of charred wood broke away from a beam and
disappeared into the gorge. The furthest abutment looked even worse in daylight
and great splits had appeared in the vertical trunk. The great yellow dome was
cracked and the yellow light it emitted was pale and sickly.

‘Malkrin, look out,’ He spun round and swept
Palerin instinctively. Finger-knives swished past his nose and he jumped over
thrusting feet-knives as a demon pressed home its attack. Malkrin twisted away
from the hissing blades and thrust Palerin up through the demons mouth and into
its brain. As it fell he neatly extracted his sword and stood at the ready.

As he feared, the creatures had renewed the
assault and his men were withdrawing steadily through the streets. The great Senate
building was burning. He saw demons running from house to house with flaming
torches. A section of exhausted Celembrie warriors were in danger of being
surrounded so Malkrin led a collection of Seconchane townsmen to relieve them.

Thicheal clapped a bloody hand on his
shoulder. ‘Thanks Brother,’ he panted and turned to rush toward three of his
men engaging a large demon.

‘Start getting the men over the bridge,’ Malkrin
shouted to him, ‘before it collapses. Form a line of defence on the other side
lest the demons renew their assault from that direction.’

He waded into another desperate fight and
forged a gap for more warriors to run through the smoke and confusion.

‘Back to the bridge,’ Malkrin shouted again,
and rushed to help defend a cart full of wounded being attacked by three demons.

An hour later all was lost. Everywhere
buildings burnt and men fought their way to the bridged gorge. A continuous
stream filed over, Talgour and a couple of Brightwater officials encouraged
them on. Women on the other side held out flagons of drink and some men formed
a defensive line on the far side of the gorge.

Malkrin fought to extricate as many
warriors as he could; it didn’t matter to him whether they were Celembrie,
Brightwater, Wolf or Seconchane.

Then he noticed a sudden distraction in the
demon ranks, some turned and fought hulking shapes in the smoky gloom. Malkrin’s
tired eyes hallucinated club wielding giants. They were emerging from the smoke
and batting demons with clubs whilst howling wildly.

Talgour rushed over, a look of relief in
his soot darkened face, ‘the Wild-men of Trothwell,’ he stated simply.

In the sudden turnaround of battle, Malkrin
saw the shapes form into fur clad behemoths with unruly hair and beards. Spiral
tattoos covered their exposed features, and they snarled like animals as they
wielded huge spiked clubs. There had to be a couple of hundred of the fearsome
men. One paused to hold up his club triumphantly toward Malkrin as a gesture of
unity from one chief to another.

Malkrin raised Palerin in salute and the
wild-man carried on smashing demons.

Another charred bridge support splintered
away into the gorge depths – and worse the further span was afire again.

‘They’ve bought us time to get over the gorge,’
Malkrin shouted and Talgour nodded. Malkrin hurried the final carts over the failing
bridge.

Then a surge of demons leapt from the woods
on the far side and drove into the far defensive line. As warriors tottered
exhausted across the span, Malkrin implored them to aid the far side defence.
He had to issue this one last order to stop warriors being cut off on the
Brightwater side.

An enterprising demon thrust a flaming
torch through the far abutment’s largest split, and within seconds the wood was
burning fiercely. An arrow sent the creature plunging into the gorge.

‘
Get over quickly
,’ Malkrin shouted
at the last cart.

A troop of mounted Brenna thundered past
the cart and over the bridge. The span shook with the vibration, and more wood
splintered off and fell away.

Then through the trees on the other side he
saw fiery balls of blue flame bursting against unseen opposition and realised
Palreth was defending Seara somewhere in the trees. He could not leave his men,
but he had seen how Seara had shot demons last night. Providing they were not overwhelmed
she and Palreth were more than capable of defending each other.

The town-side demons were fully occupied
with dealing with the wild-men, so through the smoke, bands of allied warriors took
advantage of the lull and streamed across the bridge. A crack sounded above the
chaos and another split appeared in the abutment. Fire was spreading from the
great wooden support to the horizontal span. Yellow glass tinkled from the library
lighthouse and the welcoming yellow light extinguished.

Malkrin and Talgour stood side by side as more
Brenna horsemen galloped over the failing bridge. Talgour had found a wood axe
from somewhere and with a deft heave lopped of a demons arm sending the
creature bowling from the causeway. Malkrin drove Palerin into the carapace
joins of another demon and they backed onto the wood of the bridge span. A
rending crack came from beneath them and a strip of the causeway crumpled away.
Now there was room for single file only, far beneath their feet the torrent of
water poured past in a never ending roar. A last warrior passed them and
Malkrin could see no more leaving the burning town.

‘
Time to go
,’ he shouted, and they
ran along the remaining wooden spar. Behind them a demon followed and four
arrows from the other side caught it and sent it spinning away. Talgour turned
and hurled the axe at another demon as they ran balancing on the smoking spar.
They leapt through the fire framed tunnel in the massive tree abutment. Behind
them came a resounding crunch and the burning span collapsed into the gorge taking
a couple of demons with it. Choking and retching they fought their way through
thick smoke filling the hollowed tree until daylight appeared ahead. Arms
grabbed them and they re-entered a chaotic day.

Talgour slumped beside Malkrin as they heaved
great bouts of air into tortured lungs. Behind them the abutment collapsed into
a funeral pyre of broken tree and glass dome. The wreckage followed the rest of
the bridge into the gorge with a deep crunch. Sparks accompanied billowing
smoke then steam, as the water below extinguished the conflagration.

Malkrin recovered sufficiently to rise on
unsteady feet. His eyes still stung and his feet within his blackened footwear
felt sore from treading smouldering wood. All was now silent on this side of
the gorge; the demons had been wiped out or had retreated. Around him a ring of
warriors stood ready to repel any quarter-men that attacked.  On the far side
he could see the wild-men running from the demons. He was surprised at the
speed at which they outdistanced quarter-men – back the way they had arrived so
opportunely earlier.

Thicheal approached, blood smeared but still
with his irrepressible energy. ‘We’ve cleared the creatures on this side. The demon
army split and most reached Brightwater from the Pit of Vorbe. The demons this
side of the Walthwen River were wiped out with your timely arrival. We must
make haste though, before they regroup and realise we are escaping.’

‘They now have a very long detour to get to
this side of the gorge,’ Malkrin croaked.

Talgour interrupted, ‘not that long I fear,
I forget only the Seconchane have no knowledge of tracks and fords here.’

‘Hopefully we have a respite – for now. But
it does not sit well for my people to retire even further from our lands.’
Thicheal sighed, ‘but we now have no alternative. It is necessary for us to
give the wounded time to mend and find somewhere more defensible.’

‘We must head back directly to Cyprusnia
and mount a concerted defence within the Derant Pass.’ Malkrin persuaded, ‘it is
the only populated and defensible place left.’

‘There is Olephate of course but that is
even further away.’ Thicheal came to a decision. ‘Very well – I can think of no
better plan.’

Eighth-of-Senate joined them with a status
report, ‘Mondroth is slain but BalthWolf Bone-thrower leads the Wolf Clan and
other survivors away. TrathWolf is scouting ahead with Brenna horsemen in the
direction of Cyprusnia.’

Malkrin nodded, it appeared their retreat was
under organised control. He cheered a little; they were even following the
sacred route.

‘We must form an effective rear guard, and
at the same time keep the carts close to the tribes-peoples.’

Then out of the smoke appeared twenty Brenna
on horses led by the Bear’s second-in-command, Deerhoove.

‘Greetings Malkrin, no demons in easy
riding distance,’ he clapped Malkrin’s shoulder, who winced from bruises gained
in the battle. Deerhoove informed them of Boele the Bear’s death. Malkrin felt
his shoulders hang heavy; he had been a good man.

‘You and your men must be our rearguard.’

‘Of course, we’ll deal with any demons that
dare follow.’

‘Should larger groups of quarter-men appear;
ride to us and we can prepare to trap them.’

‘Ambush the ambushers, good,’ Deerhoove laughed
and clapped Malkrin on the back again. Malkrin raised a tired arm in salute.