The House of Yeel (25 page)

Vot handed Yeel another bag.
The consistency felt different. Yeel knew it would be a fluid this
time. He swung the bag round several times, gaining speed, then
released it. Vot launched her own a moment later. This time as the
bags struck and sprayed their contents, the effects were almost
immediate. Steam rose from the Quan’s metal armor. The powerful
humanoids were immediately in distress.

They danced about wildly in pain. Then pieces
of their armor started to fall onto the stones of the bridge. The
solution quickly ate away at the metal, heating it up and
dissolving it as Yeel watched.

The Ascarans used the chaos
to their advantage. They pressed forward, striking the Quan before
them with their fenlar. More missiles came in from the towers above
and behind. Dead bodies littered the way to the fortress. A few
Quan threw the bodies of their brothers over the edge of the
bridge, but they’d lost their momentum. Now the Ascarans pressed
forward and regained most of the bridge. The unarmored Quan were no
match for their fenlar. Some of the huge Quan warriors even jumped
over the edge of the bridge.

“Their army is breaking up,” Vot observed.
“Tuluk and his pod have destroyed most of the sea invaders.”

“The hormone worked quite
well. They look quite enraged, still. In fact, I don’t think I will
be going down there for quite some time. I would hate to have
survived the attack simply to be sliced open by a giant sea
predator.”

“And I see the army of Riken
has struck at the leaders in the back. Their knights charged in
from the flank. No wonder most of the Quan army is in shambles. The
Meridalae have been soundly defeated. I wish I could say we won’t
see them again here at Ascara-home.”

“I hope Jymoor isn’t harmed.
Though I usually don’t favor the strong silent type, I still admire
her. And she’s a good champion for her people. I think she had the
moral fiber and work ethic to be of net benefit for her
race.”

“The day is ours,” Vot said.
“I thank you, Yeel. You’re a good friend. A fine fighter, too. Why,
I think you didn’t flinch one time. Your well-aged body came close
to harm, there is no doubt. I think I saw at least one Quan raise a
javelin toward you.”

“No need to thank me,” Yeel
replied. “It is I who should thank you for the opportunity to
oppose the Meridalae. In fact, if memory serves, as it almost never
does, I may owe you a debt for freeing me from them, many years
ago. Believe me when I say that if I did in fact owe you such a
debt I would make it one of my highest priorities to repay it. And
in a timely manner, too, with interest as it were.”

“Think no more of it.
Dismiss it from your mind. Beings as close as us have no need of
the concept of debt. We each do what we can when we can. And now I
must give thanks to the Rikenese. They trusted us. I must make sure
they don’t regret it. It would be very embarrassing if they were
now to all die to their barbarian horde.”

“I suggest you be brief.
Their kind is loathe to speak or listen at length. Why I have lost
count of the times I was interrupted before I could even reach
midspeech! They won’t tolerate it, I tell you.”

“I was wondering why you had
become so short-tongued. I thought maybe you were falling silent in
your adult years. I’ll be as brief as I possibly can,” Vot said.
“Perhaps a speech of only ten minutes? What do you think? Should I
also use short sentences?”

“Hmm. The shorter the
better. And you should consider making it five minutes,” Yeel
advised. “Don’t underestimate how much they detest extended
listening or speaking. In fact, I wonder just now, which do they
hate more? I should ask Jymoor when I see her. Or perhaps conduct
an experiment of some kind, as soon as I can devise it.”

***

Three hours later, the attacking army had
scattered. Bodies lay on the bridge, sprawled on the beach, and
floated in the sea, reminding everyone of the carnage. Vot moved
forward from her guard of Ascarans toward the army of Riken. She
moved unerringly toward Aruscetar. The ranks opened to allow her to
approach. She came closer and addressed him.

“I am Vot. I find myself deeply in your
debt.”

A reflected war cry from the previous battle
washed over them. The Rikenese looked alarmed.

“Please ignore the echoes; they are normal
for this place,” Vot said. “They may linger for hours more to
remind us of our victory.”

Aruscetar gently took Vot’s
hand and kissed it.

“Queen Vot. I am King
Aruscetar of Riken. I’m sorry we had to meet under such dire
circumstances.”

“I would like to welcome you
and your men to Ascara-home and invite you to a feast, as thanks
for your aid,” Vot said. “I can also immediately offer a piece of
information. I’m sorry to speak so plainly and to the point, but I
found a spy among my men. It became clear in a message we
intercepted that you have a spy in your city as well, working for
our enemies. The spy is called Seer Yune.”

Aruscetar’s visage fell. The
king nodded slowly.

“I feared it. She has gone missing. Thank you
for daring to say it. I believe you.”

“Oh, um, very sorry to
interrupt your lord- and ladyships,” Yeel said. “However I see…that
is, my very mystical and magical servants see, that the barbarians
are approaching Maristaple again!”

“Queen Vot, would you be displeased if your
new friends had to ask repayment for their aid in a hasty and rude
manner?”

“We honor our debts gladly. I only regret
that Tuluk and his pod cannot come fight with us.”

“Tuluk?”

“The sea dragons,” Jymoor explained.

“Well, perhaps they can come
with us,” Yeel said. “I have an idea…”

Chapter 20: Battle under a
Blue Sky

As Yeel reached the battlements, he heard a
thunderous cheer coming from beyond the walls. The morning sun
revealed the huge barbarian army encircling Maristaple. They
brandished their weapons and assembled for a charge. Yeel saw
ladders and rams scattered among the lightly armored warriors.

“Most likely they’ll simply
try to overwhelm us from all directions,” Aruscetar said. “There
are rams set up close to each gate. Our defenders are spread
thin.”

“Yet we have to wait until they attack to
deliver our surprises,” Yeel said. “Your men will have to hold for
a short time.”

“I understand. Vot’s forces
can’t attack now, or they’ll be overwhelmed while we sit here on
the walls.”

They watched and waited as the horde seethed
before them.

Somewhere out there, Methric is preparing to
give the order. And he believes this is the best way for his people
to flourish. Sad.

It didn’t take long. The
screams on the field rose to a new height. Then waves of fighters
surged forward toward the walls.

“Now!” urged Aruscetar. Yeel started to reel
in a thin line. He collected several feet of it before it grew
taught.

“I think it’s hung up on
something.”

“They’re charging now! Get
it unstuck!” Aruscetar yelled.

“Nope, it’s hopelessly
stuck,” Yeel verified. “I’m going to have to go out there and free
it.”

“Good damn luck! I’m not
going out there with you!” Aruscetar bellowed.

But Yeel was already sliding down the outside
of the tower. He dangled from his long tentacles, searching for new
purchases lower on the face of the tower.

The deep voice of Aruscetar followed after
him.

“If you succeed, we’ll sing
of you every year on this date for sacrificing yourself to save
us!”

As Yeel fell to the ground, none too softly,
he pulled the line again. Warriors were bearing down upon him,
perhaps a dozen paces away.

I’m going to need some
protection.

Yeel projected the idea of a huge, monstrous
worm tearing its way up from the ground. Its gaping mouth was wide
enough to swallow a man whole. Then he slid forward as fast as he
could, tugging on the line this way and that.

The warriors ahead of him broke to each side,
giving him a wide berth. He plucked one man off his feet and tossed
him away, just to add to the effect. It would look like the
monstrous worm bowled the man over just by grazing him.

Yeel glanced behind him to
his left. A huge ram approached the gate, carried by dozens of
barbarians. The soldiers above tried using arrows to stop the men
pushing it, but there were many hides and shields attached to the
massive device to give cover to those manning it.

Finally, the line freed up
from its snag. Yeel gave it a mighty tug. There was a loud popping
noise. Up ahead, Tuluk appeared. The monster roared. It sounded
like the squawk of a bird. The sea monster was the size of a small
dog.

“I’d best make myself
scarce,” Yeel told himself.

***

Jymoor stood with Vot on a
field next to the roveportal’s new location outside the city of
Maristaple. The last of the Ascarans walked through, carrying their
fenlar.

“They’re charging! We have
to commit our forces now!” Jymoor said.

“Not until we see Tuluk. Remember?”

“Yes, but…I thought we would
see it as soon as they charged.”

“Tuluk is key to the
strategy. And even failing strategy, its brute force has to be
worth scores of men at least. Timing is critical. We can’t move
until we see him. He breaks their line providing us the opportunity
to flank. To do otherwise—”

“My pardon, Vot! But what if
he doesn’t appear?” Jymoor interrupted.

By the moon, she’s just as
long winded as Yeel.

“Then we might charge for that gate and try
and destroy that ram. But the other gates will still fall. Perhaps
if we could reach the castle—oh, there he is.”

Tuluk appeared above the heads of the
barbarians seconds later. The creature rose taller. It snapped at a
nearby man, ripping his head from his shoulders. Tuluk kept
growing. Someone hurled a spear into its back, but the weapon
looked increasingly insignificant as the monster gained half its
normal size. Men were caught under its belly as it expanded to
dominate the field. It moved fitfully, grinding its huge flippers
against the soil, sending men flying.

“Let the attack begin,” Vot
intoned. Somehow Jymoor heard it in her mind clearly as if Vot
placed it there directly. It must have been the same for the rest
of the Ascaran army, as they starting running forward as one,
aiming to the right of the opening in the line created by
Tuluk.

The barbarians were roiling
about, contemplating what to do in the face of Tuluk’s sudden
appearance, when they spotted the Ascaran charge and braced for it.
Jymoor ran swiftly for someone in such heavy armor, able to keep up
with the lighter Ascaran soldiers wielding their fenlar.

A man with an axe and a metal breastplate
challenged Jymoor. He wore part of the skull of a bear or a lion
over the top of his head. Its fangs descended over his brow, adding
to his fearsome appearance.

But Jymoor had faced worse.
She thrust for his throat as the axe descended on her shoulder.
Both of them hit their target; Jymoor’s left shoulder felt a flash
of pain but the man gurgled and died as Jymoor’s weapon sliced deep
into his throat. She pulled the weapon out quickly.

Another barbarian advanced
to take the dead man’s place. Jymoor felt another spike of pain in
her shoulder as she pointed her sword at the new threat.

My collarbone is broken.
But at least it’s not on my sword arm’s side.

A spear thrust for her eyes.
She moved her head aside. Her own counterthrust skittered off the
man’s breastplate. Then the barbarian stood next to her. They were
too close for their weapons. His horned helm came smashing into
Jymoor’s helm, sending stars dancing through her vision.

This may be it.

The man fell dead. Master
Kasil removed her sword from the man’s armpit.

“Don’t make things any
harder than they need to be,” Kasil lectured. The woman moved
forward to skewer another barbarian as Jymoor gathered her
wits.

She looked about through her
visor slit. The Ascarans had broken through the line on the south
side, giving Tuluk’s rage a wide berth. The line was thin here, as
many of the barbarians had fled Tuluk’s vicinity. Now the Ascarans
were cutting through the remaining warriors rapidly.

“Proceed around the fortress counterclockwise
to avoid Tuluk,” Vot said. Jymoor heard her even though Vot was
nowhere nearby. “Roll up their flank. Our line will be
perpendicular to theirs, allowing us to concentrate our force
against a few of them at a time. Many of them are scaling the wall.
Knock them off their ladders and set fire to their siege equipment
with the firepacks.”

Jymoor’s shoulder started
to hurt worse. She looked ahead at the barbarians engaging the
Ascarans
.

Perhaps over by the wall.
Maybe I’m still in good enough shape to finish off some of the men
who’ve fallen from ladders…my armor should be distinct enough to
keep me from being shot with an arrow from above.

Jymoor worked her way closer
to Maristaple’s walls. The first barbarian she approached was just
staggering up. Jymoor suspected he’d fallen from one of the damaged
ladders nearby. His arm was blooded. Spotting Jymoor’s approach, he
looked for a weapon.