Shane Porteous - The Battle of Ebulon - A Shared Anthology

“Kidnapped,” said Khendam.

“And there are others at a distance, near to the other gates.”

Kalummenon looked at Khendam and Rysil. “You saw people too?”

Rysil nodded. “Oh yes, a troop of foreign soldiers passed down a street that crossed ours. I thought they were patrolling a boundary. When we got closer, we could see well worn tracks in the snow. They seemed uninterested in straying from their chosen path.”

“Lucky for us,” said Khendam. “We must have been about half way to the next gate.”

“So we are all here—” began Pereg, but a commotion stopped him in mid-sentence.

The procession had reached the square, and Vardan had already managed to organize their motley crew into something approaching an army. A company of warriors guarded the entrance to the square, in an unevenly outfitted defensive ring of swords and spears. On the edges of the square, and leaning from some of the lower windows of the stone buildings, archers drew bows.

It was an impressive achievement on such short notice, but still it was clear they would be no match for the battalion of properly supplied troops which had halted at the edge of the square. The majority of the men and women of the Kinnon had not been carrying their weapons when they had been summoned here, and the number of weaponless and defenceless people was staggering. If this went badly, there would be a slaughter.

The floating figure was perhaps a corpulent man, but Kalummenon was too far back to be certain. The figure floated in place at head height, and seemed to be taking in the men and women gathered against him. With a flick of his wrist, the figure conjured a shimmering wall of energy.

Near the front of his army, Vardan called out for the archers to hold, but a few stray arrows launched nonetheless, breaking against the shimmering wall and falling harmlessly to the ground.

The figure ignored the affront, and began a new working in earnest. He was speaking some words and moving his hands, and after a few moments he cast his hands suddenly outwards towards the square. Twinkling light spread out from him, and the people of the Kinnon gasped as the light passed over their heads, and then descended amongst them.

Kalummenon fixed his gaze on the figure. There didn’t appear to be any menace to his actions, or demeanour, but not knowing what was going on had them all on edge.

The floating figure smiled. It seemed forced, or at least not a smile born of pleasure, but rather of satisfaction.

“There,” said the figure, and his voice was now audible across the whole square. “Friends! Welcome to the city of Ebulon, and our deepest gratitude for all of you who have answered our call!”

Impossibly, the figure spoke in the courtly language of the Kinnon, or seemed to. All around the square could be heard similar murmurs of surprise, and people spoke quickly and furtively to each other.

The figure let the words sink in for a moment before continuing.

“Do not be alarmed! The shimmering light which fell upon you is nothing more than the lifting of the linguistic barriers between us! Now we can speak and understand each other! Ordinary weapons will be turned away by the shield I hold around me, but do not fear an attack: I come to speak to you, and to help you.

“I am Munda, a spokesperson for King Yadi of Ebulon. King Yadi issued the Call, and you have heard it, and have come to our aid. We in turn come to your aid. I bring wagons of food, of hot meats, of roasted tubers, and other simple but hearty sustenance. I bring also a thousand of King Yadi’s finest soldiers to aid you in the coming battle.”

Munda was forced to stop speaking by a rise of angry protest from the crowd. He raised his hands, and after a while a begrudging quiet descended.

“Who speaks for you? Have you a leader?” asked Munda.

“I seem to be the highest ranking here,” said Vardan, stepping closer to the front of the crowd. “I am Vardan of Tarakal, a Lord of that fair land.” He had the crowd’s full attention, and he paused, gratified that none had spoken out to deprive him of this open acknowledgement of his own importance. “We have come at your calling, that may be true, but we have not come to fight your battle for we have battles of our own to fight and families of our own to protect. We demand that we be returned whence we came!”

The crowd roared its approval.

Munda was shocked by their enthusiasm. “Did you not hear the Call? Did you not willingly follow the Call?”

Now Vardan held his hands up to calm a rising wave of indignation. “We don’t know what you thought you were doing, but for us the “Call” was not a choice or a question, and it most certainly was not an informed decision. It was a compulsion, a charm, a magic spell, that dragged us, captured us, and forced us to step into the light and come here. At no time were we asked about our willingness to fight, and the fact of our being here is not the same as consent. I have seen your enemy, and my people want no part of your battle. We will all die if we face that vast army at your gates, and if we are to die we would die for our own people, not yours!”

“Most troubling…” muttered Munda. “When our King sent out the Call, it was to call to the spirit of the hero, the spirit of any who would willingly step forward to protect the weak and the innocent, and any who believed they were able to rise to the occasion. You were all Called by the light because you yourselves believe you are heroes, because you think you are heroes, and because you would choose to help someone in dire need! We are in dire need, and we need your help! It is true, there is a vast army facing the walls of Ebulon, but that is not the end of what I must tell you, only the beginning. This army has marched across our world, swallowing proud and free nations one after the other. This army, camped at our gates, has not merely conquered the peoples of our world. This army has not merely enslaved the conquered peoples of our world. No, they have slaughtered all they have conquered, from newborn babes to honoured elders! They are a pestilence upon the land, and they have overrun the whole world. Except for Ebulon! Some few survivors reached us, warned us of what was coming. And we have already fought battles in this bitter war, which is why you find wide parts of our city empty and broken. We are bled almost dry. We are not the only free people left in the world: we are the only living people! Those monsters want to kill everything that is good, and destroy everything of worth! They will cut off our heads, and then they will knock down our city, leaving not even a memory of it. They wish to rule an empty world of rot and decay, and we say to them, NO! You shall not have us!

“And you, you all, you came to us, you followed the Call, because you are good and strong and brave and clever! You came because you are heroes, because only heroes can hear the Call!

“But please, forgive us our shortcomings! We failed you if you felt compelled or fooled into coming. We failed you if you came here against your will. We failed you if we brought you here to help us without asking plainly. We failed you if the Call did not explain our need. Forgive us! But we fight for our survival!

“Now you know more of us, and more of our story, will you aid us? Will you stand with us against the worst enemy we have ever known?”

Vardan spoke up clearly, “In this, I cannot speak for my people. They must choose for themselves.”

From the otherwise silent crowd a voice called out, “Are we hostages? Will you send us home? Can you?”

The crowd took a collective breath, waiting for the answer.

Munda sighed. “We can send you home now, if that is what you wish. You are not hostages. You are free people. It is as free people that we Called you. You are free, and you will remain free. But logistics must be mentioned. We can send you home now, if you are unwilling to aid us, while we are able, but once the battle is joined, we might lose those with the power. The future is difficult to predict. I cannot say who will fall and who will stand. But if, after the battle, there are still those among us with that power, they will return you to your homes. But the battle will soon be joined, perhaps on the morrow, and who can say how all this will end?”