Shane Porteous - The Battle of Ebulon - A Shared Anthology

One man pushed through the crowd towards the bear, and Kalummenon turned to watch the exchange.

The bear-man seemed surprised that someone had dared approach, but it was obvious that the richly dressed man was not coming to fight him. The nobleman spread out empty hands, and said in the courtly language, “Friend, we have not done this to you, but are fellow victims. Please, Friend, put back your sword, and join us in council. Help us discern the true cause of this.”

The bear-like man returned his sword to its scabbard, and began speaking quietly to the nobleman. This noble looking gentleman seemed to be a Lord or general, and in times of uncertainty people flocked to perceived power. Kalummenon decided that for now he should be a bird of that flock, and pushed through the crowd towards them.

The crowd had seemed completely disorganized at first, but now he noticed that small groups of a certain nationality or region seemed to have already gathered. Several other people were pushing through the crowd as Kalummenon was, seemingly drawn to the apparent centre of power, or else to the courtly words.

The noble began to speak to the tightening knot of men and women around him, just as Kalummenon reached them. “Friends, I am Vardan of Tarakal.” Kalummenon knew that Tarakal was a close ally of the politically dominant Abrilians, and he thought this Vardan seemed to have a charming way about him.

Vardan continued, “I do not know who has brought us here, but it seems that each of us has followed the call of our heart, heard a whispered name, and each of us has been brought here from our own lands to this place. We are all men and women of the Kinnon, and though we may be far from home, I believe that keeping to the principles we hold dear will only help us through this ordeal. So please, try to calm your fellows, try to find shared languages for those who are not able to understand the courtly tongue, and help calm those newly arrived like Chirath here,” gesturing to the newly arrived bear of a man. “Meanwhile, I would suggest that we send out scouts to determine the nature of the city we find ourselves in, this Ebulon.”

Murmurs of assent passed through the crowd. It all sounded so reasonable.

Vardan spoke up again, “I see that many of you represent different nations, so please return to your groups, spread my words, and send some of your kind to be close to the portal. Meanwhile, if any would like to help explore and help us get our bearings, then please—”

Kalummenon interrupted. “I would.”

Vardan looked down his nose at Kalummenon’s simple and drab clothing, but seemed perplexed by his impeccable Abrilian accent. “And you are?”

“I am Kalummenon, of Peledar.”

Someone snorted nearby, and Kalummenon turned to look at him. The young blonde haired man waved his hands, as if in apology. “Forgive me,” he said, “it’s just that your name doesn’t sound at all Peledarri

“It isn’t. My father was a sailor, and he named me as such.”

“A pirate! Of course, that makes—”

“I am not a pirate, and I don’t—”

“In fact, your name sounds like—”

“I know what it sounds like in the old language, and I am not a dog, but,” turning his attention back to Vardan, “I do have a good nose for sniffing things out, and I am used to keeping a low profile…”

“Excellent,” said Vardan. “And you, lad?” Vardan turned a piercing gaze towards the young man.

Blushing quickly and fully, the young man spoke up proudly, “I am Pereg of Peledar, and a cadet in the King’s Academy.”

“And are you volunteering as well, lad?” asked Vardan. When Pereg hesitated, Vardan went on, “It will give you a chance to make peace with your fellow countryman here.”

Pereg nodded. “I would be happy to volunteer.”

“Good man. Anyone else?” There were a few. Wegri of Kire styled himself a poet, but looked more like a thief, with tight lips and furtive eyes that seemed to note the whereabouts of anything valuable. Rysil of Eilinnar was an older man, slim, white haired, but bright eyed and enthusiastic. Khendam of Brenave was strong and serious, and seemed to carry a heavy burden of pain or regret despite his relative youth. Tulacha of Chel could not be called beautiful, but her smile took you by surprise, transforming her earnest features with a sultriness and playfulness that would be irresistible to the right person, and managed to be appealing to the rest.

The knot of men and women dispersed, and Vardan was left with the six scouts, and Chirath. He split them into pairs, with the intention that if one of the pair fell into trouble, the other could bring back warning to the rest of them gathered in the square.

“Behind me,” Vardan said, “the square stretches into a wide street, and you can see a gate at the end of it. Chirath and I will scout the gate and try to climb the wall for a wider view of the city. Wegri and Tulacha, please scout the area to the right of us, and Khendam and Rysil, the left side. The Peledarri pair will scout into what we assume to be the heart of the city, away from the gate. Do not engage those you meet. Be gone no more than a few hours. Stay out of trouble, and report back. If you do manage to find trouble, bring warning.”

Snow drifted out of alleyways between the stone buildings. There were fading tracks here and there in the snow, softened by the working of the wind, but there had been no substantial snowfall since they arrived some hours ago.

“It’s so desolate,” Tulacha said. She disapproved of emptiness, or loneliness. She thrived in the company of others, and seeing a place so devoid of life or warmth was unnerving. “Where did all the people go?”

Wegri snorted. He gazed up and down the massive stone buildings as they walked. “Thousands of people could live here. I wonder what they left behind…”

Tulacha thought for a moment, taking his question seriously. “There’s no sign of death or destruction, just decay. They might have been able to take everything with them, if it was an orderly evacuation.”

Wegri sighed. “I’m going to find out.”

“What?”

“Let me know if you see anyone coming,” he added, and disappeared into the shadows of the building.

A gust of wind howled around Tulacha’s head, and she shivered in the creeping cold, feeling the lack of warmth all the more for standing still. She jumped up and down, and wiggled her toes in her boots, doing her best to keep warm. She scanned the street, first one direction, then the other, but she saw no one. The stonework was simple, and unadorned. The lower levels were made up of larger blocks, especially at the corners and over doorways and windows. Smaller blocks formed the main parts of the walls. The buildings were packed tightly together, and some reached 3 or 4 storeys high. All were capped by sloping tiled roofs, parts of which were piled with blown snow, and other parts blown clear.

There was no sign of life. No birds. No creatures. It was the dead of winter here.

She heard a bang in the distance, and looked nervously from side to side. There was no one. But now she looked from window to window, suddenly certain that one of them would reveal a face.

“They left everything,” Wegri said from right behind her.

“Argh!” Tulacha couldn’t help herself. “You startled me…”

“Apparently. There’s no sign of looting, no breakage, no bodies. It was an orderly departure, but a speedy one. They weren’t allowed to take very much with them.”

“Did you find anything interesting?” she asked.

“No, not really,” replied Wegri, innocently. “Let’s get moving, you must be freezing standing here.”

She nodded, distracted from her momentary suspicion.