S. Turney - Interregnum

Athas grinned as he fought back with a renewed vigour. “You know the Wolves. Wherever there’s a fight, you’ll find us somewhere in the middle!”

The numbers in front were beginning to thin out, but beyond they could see another wave forming in the courtyard as more guardsmen who’d escaped the action gathered to put down the insurrection. Marco shouted a warning to Athas and leapt across to deal with a guardsman that appeared from a doorway in the gate but, as he swept his sword up, a lucky blow from one of the other guards caught him in the armpit as he moved, the blade sliding in deep. With a gasp Marco collapsed, dropping his sword. Brendan caught him as he fell and hurled him over his shoulder like a sack of grain.

Prince Ashar pushed away the man he was fighting and drove his blade into his chest as he glanced around him. “We’ve got to run Athas; get to the boats. We’re losing too many men here.”

Much as the burly sergeant hated to admit it, the cost in casualties was increasing as they fought. Already half a dozen Pelasians lay dead, Marco was either dead or unconscious, Tythias fighting with one arm and no sign of Jorun at all. Athas ducked back, sheathing his sword, and reached out for the huge beam that had once barred the ornamental gates. It was not one of the powerful oak beams that held the main gate house closed, but was sturdy enough even after years of neglect.

“Run!”

As the others leapt back, disengaging from the enemy and fled toward the shore, Athas swung the huge bar, slamming it into the guardsmen and knocking them back into a heap. Dropping the timber he ran, glancing briefly over his shoulder at the guard units that had now joined and were trying to get past the carnage at the gate.

Ahead, the others ran with Brendan at the rear, carrying the limp body of Marco. Tonight had already carried far too high a toll and it was far from over yet.

Sathina shimmied down the bole of the tree with the ease and balance of youth and dropped lightly to the floor next to Kiva.

“There’s a whole load of people coming, general. Some are nearly here, but there’s others up by the buildings and I think they’re being chased by the guards.”

Kiva grunted. “Ok. Come on.”

Without a word, the young lady collected her small hand crossbow and went to support the wounded general where he hobbled out of the clearing. She was impressed at the speed with which he seemed to be recovering from the most horrendous wounds. Indeed, he seemed to be groaning a lot less too. Though he was slow moving along the path out of the trees, he used only one stick, reaching out with the other arm to lean on branches as he moved. She followed him faithfully along the track and then down to a slight dip.

Here, though few knew it, was a timber cover hidden among the undergrowth that Sathina crouched above and hauled on. The wooden trap door creaked and groaned and fell back onto the turf and scrub with a crunch. Beneath, dank and slippery stone steps climbed down into the earth for around twenty feet where, by faint moonlight, a hidden jetty was visible, stocked with supplies. Three wooden boats bumped into each other repeatedly with the waves.

She looked back up at the general. “What now?”

Kiva peered across the dark landscape. There was the sound of distant fighting, and figures were moving through the trees. “Now you get down those steps and untie one of the boats. I’ll take that crossbow for a moment.”

Without question Sathina handed him the small, portable weapon and started down the steps, pausing before she disappeared.

“Can you see Tythias?”

Kiva raised an eyebrow as he turned to look down, cocking the weapon. “Not yet, but that’s guards screaming, not our men. He’ll be here soon enough.”

With a smile, the girl disappeared down the stairs just as the first group of islanders burst into the clearing through the sparse trees and undergrowth. A young man with a shock of unruly red hair came to a halt, motioning the others to stop as he saw the crossbow aimed toward them. As soon as Kiva was sure they were all islanders and he was in no danger, he lowered the bow and leaned heavily against a tree stump.

“General Caerdin,” the young man said breathlessly. “What’s next sir?”

Kiva pointed at the barely visible hole. “Get the people down there, load the boats and be ready to sail.”

As the young redhead made to move past him the general held out his hand. “Is there anyone here who feels confident in handling a sword?”

Among the crowd a few hands were raised, somewhat hesitantly.

“We could do with a little help keeping the guard entertained while the first boats get underway. Behind that bush,” he announced, gesturing, “is a small pile of weapons. Anyone who feels they can help, grab a sword and stand to. Any sailors or fishermen, head down there and get the boats primed.”

The majority of the group stepped down into the passageway, as five men made for the armoury and prepared themselves. They stood firmly beside the general, the young man with red hair coughing nervously.

“How many boats are there down there? There are a lot of people, you know?”

Kiva nodded. “Three boats. Big ones though. These are old troop transports. They can take maybe twenty-five or even thirty each fully laden.”

“But there must be well over a hundred of us leaving. How are we going to get everyone out?”

“Actually, there’s one hundred and thirty two if we lost no-one tonight. These boats are just for the first group,” the general replied, shifting his weight uncomfortably. Then we’ve got to deal with the guard for good before we move to the second site.

An older man on the other side of the clearing frowned. “Even so, with only twenty-five people in those boats, they’ll ride very low in the water. We’ll catch on the reefs!”

With a grin, Kiva turned to face him. “Then we’re about to find out just how good a sailor we all are, aren’t we.”

They stood in silence for a moment and watched as the next group of figures closed in through the sparse trees. Sarios was out front, moving with a speed that truly belied his age. Somewhere not far behind came the ring of steel on steel and angry shouting that could only be Brendan and Athas. Kiva smiled.

“Get ready!”

The minister burst into the clearing.

“How many are here already?” he asked breathlessly.

Kiva shrugged and winced again. “Around sixty or seventy I’d say. Send any women and children down to join them.”

Sarios began directing islanders, some of whom entered the tunnel and some took up arms and came to join the defenders while the rest were sent into the undergrowth behind to wait until the area was clear and safe. The people were still moving, some stepping into the tunnel, as Brendan burst into the open, his sword covered in viscera and the still shape of Marco over his shoulder. He ran straight over to the nearest islanders and dropped Marco into their arms.

“E’s still breathing sir” he gabbled to the general, as he hefted his blade and stepped into line with the rag-tag unit of rebels and prisoners.

Kiva nodded and raised the bow as the battle crossed the thicket and entered the clearing. Athas was swinging his sword with tired arms, but a determined look on his face; next to him, Darius was bleeding from the forehead and paused regularly, his sword flailing defensively, to wipe the red veil from his eyes. Tythias, leaving a trail of blood from his severed arm, fought like a wildcat on the periphery, with Mercurias, Ashar and two other Pelasians, all of them together struggling to hold back the guards, who’d been whittled down to a ratio of perhaps two or three to one.