Robert Salvatore - Mortalis

Abbot Braumin stared hard at Tetrafel all through the reading, purposely keeping all emotion off his face. "We have spoken of going to Caer Tinella to open the chapel ofAvelyn," Viscenti remarked.

Braumin turned and stared at him, but shook his head determinedly. "Duke Tetrafel!" he cried out powerfully. "You have no jurisdiction here and no power to make such demands."

The herald started to respond, but Tetrafel, obviously still possessed of some amount of vigor, grabbed the man and pulled him back. "All the city has come out against you!" he yelled at Braumin. "How can you claim the rights of a Church when you have no followers?

"

"We did not give you the plague, Duke Tetrafel," Abbot Braumin bluntly answered.

"But you did!" came a cry from the side, from De'Unnero. He ran out before the gathering, waving his arms at the crowd. "They did! Their sacrilege has brought the vengeance of God upon us all! Unseat them and He will be contented, and the plague will lift from our lands and our homes!"

"Duke Tetrafel!" Braumin called out, "We did not give you the plague, nor have we the power to cure your sickness. But how many times have the brothers of St. Precious-"

"Out!" the Duke interrupted, leaping out of his carriage and stumbling forward. "Out, I say! Get you gone from that building and from my city!"

Abbot Braumin stared down at him; his cold expression gave the frightened and angry man all the answer that he needed.

" Then you are besieged, I say!" Duke Tetrafel declared. " If the night has passed and you have not fled the abbey and the city, then know that you leave your walls at your own great peril. Besieged! And know that our patience is not great. Your terms of surrender worsen with each passing hour!"

Braumin turned and walked away. "If they come on again, defend the abbey with all necessary force," he told his friends. "And, please, for my own peace of mind, if the opportunity presents itself, strike Marcalo De'Unnero dead."

Castinagis and Talumus nodded grimly at the request, but Viscenti, more familiar with De'Unnero's reputation, blanched at the mere thought of it. He watched Braumin go back into the abbey and wondered if he had been foolish to talk his friend out of going to Duke Tetrafel's aid, wondered if they should not take the offer and vacate Palmaris at once. All of them, every one.

Viscenti looked back to the courtyard, to see De'Unnero leading a prayer session with hundreds-no, thousands! — of folk gathering about the square, lifting their voices in response to his own. The Brothers Repentant filtered through the crowd, enlisting allies.

No, this would be no traditional siege, Viscenti knew. The outraged peasants would come at them again and then again, until St. Precious was no more than a burned-out husk of broken stone. And what would happen to the brothers? he wondered. Would they be dragged through the streets and tortured to death? Burned at the stake, perhaps, like poor Master Jojonah?

He heard the prayers and, more clearly, the words of anger, the prom- ises that the brothers of St. Precious would pay for bringing the plague upon them.

A shudder coursed down Viscenti's spine. He did not sleep at all that night.

"Here they come," Brother Talumus said grimly to the monks standing at his side between the outer wall parapets a few mornings later. He knew, and so did the others, that this would be the worst assault yet. Duke Tetrafel had declared a siege, but in truth, the actual attacks against the abbey had increased daily, for the common folk, roused by De'Unnero and with many of them plague-ridden and thus short of time, had no patience for any lengthy siege.

A hail of stones led the way, followed by the ladder bearers and many with makeshift grapnels attached to long lengths of rope. A group stubbornly picked up the battering ram, which had been repelled three times already-the last time with a dozen peasants toting it slain-and started toward the main gate, cheering with each grunting stride.

Monks scrambled along the outer wall, some with gemstones, some with crossbows, some with heavy clubs or knives. They threw lightning and shot quarrels, pushed aside ladders and slashed ropes.

A hail of arrows soared in just above the wall. Several brothers dropped, some groaning, some lying very still.

"Tetrafel's archers!" Brother Talumus cried, scrambling in a defensive crouch. "Lightning to the back! Lightning to the back!"

Abbot Braumin rose up bravely down the line, graphite in hand. He brought forth a streaking white bolt, slamming into the archer line, scattering men. He started to duck back for cover, but saw a figure he could not ignore: De'Unnero, rushing madly among the charging peasants, cheering them on to certain death.

A second bolt, much weaker in intensity, erupted from Braumin's hand, but De'Unnero saw it coming, and with the reflexes of a cat, he skipped aside, just getting clipped on one leg.

With a yell that sounded more like a feral growl, the wild monk charged the abbey.

Braumin glanced all about, seeking the rope or ladder that De'Unnero might use, and in his distraction, he did not note that the monk's strides resembled more the gallop of a tiger than the run of a man. Hardly missing a step, De'Unnero came to the base of the wall and leaped up, up, clearing the twenty-five-foot height, catching hold of the crenellated wall and pulling himself up with frightening agility and ease right before the stunned Braumin. He hit the abbot with a blow that dropped him to the stone, A pair of brothers rushed De'Unnero, but he dipped, thrust one leg out and tripped one, then pushed the tumbling man off the parapet and down to the courtyard; then he rolled under the lunge of the second, catching the scrambling man on his shoulder. De'Unnero's left hand snapped in with a sharp blow to the monk's throat and then, with hardly an effort, he flung the man right over the wall.

The unfortunate monk was still alive when he hit the ground outside the abbey. The peasants fell over him like a flock of ravenous carrion birds.

A third brother approached De'Unnero, loaded crossbow out before him.

De'Unnero locked his gaze, studied his eyes, and anticipated every movement, and even as the man squeezed the trigger, the powerful tiger legs twitched, launching De'Unnero skyward. The bolt crossed harmlessly beneath him.

De'Unnero came down, exploding into a charge that had the crossbowman helpless. He hit the man repeatedly, his fists smashing bone, and this monk was dead before he ever went over the wall.

Still more monks charged the savage warrior, heedless of their doom, thinking only to protect their fallen abbot. De'Unnero went for Braumin and rolled him over as he raised his fist for the killing blow, wanting Braumin to see it coming.

A lightning bolt hit the weretiger in midchest, sending him rolling over the wall. He landed lightly-miraculously to the stunned peasants! — and shook away the stinging pain.

He could not go right back up, for many monks had then converged on the area, many of them with crossbows and all of them aiming his way.

De'Unnero quickly melted back into the crowd.

Despite that setback, the rabble came on furiously, scaling the walls, pounding at the doors. The brothers responded with everything they possessed, but their magic was fast weakening and their numbers, though they took care to stay protected, continued to dwindle under the rain of arrows from Tetrafel's archers.

Abbot Braumin, dazed from the punch and bleeding from the nose-but refusing any help from a brother with a soul stone-looked around at the confusion, at the sheer mass of people coming at the abbey, at Tetrafel's deadly archers raining death from the back of the square, and he knew.

St. Precious would fall this day, and he and all of his brethren would be executed.