The Arcanist (15 page)

So they stood there in the dark, waiting; nerves stretched taught and hearts beating too fast, knowing that it was out there. And that sooner or later it would strike.

It was sooner.

There was a sound. A crunch of stone from somewhere behind him and Edouard spun like a dancer. But he was too slow, only just fast enough to see the stick like form at the wall of the turret, not ten feet away. Mara screamed and for the blink of an eye he thought she'd been struck. But even before he could level the musket at the sprig as it clambered over the wall of the turret the sound of gunfire caught him by surprise, and he watched in shock as two trails of fire met the sprig head on.

It was torn apart. At close range the pistols simply ripped through the shoulder and neck of the creature, if it could be truly said to have either, and knocked it backwards. And then while it hung there, somehow managing to cling to the stone of the tower, Kyriel rushed toward it, pistols in hand, leaned over the edge and fired two more shots directly into its heart. If it had one of those either.

That was too much for the sprig and even as Edouard made it to the railing and looked over, it was to see the creature beginning its long fall down to the roof of the fort, separating into several pieces on the way down. And when it hit, none of those pieces moved again.

“Nice shooting.” Edouard wasn't sure what you were supposed to say at times like that, but it seemed appropriate.

“Nice weapons.” Kyriel smiled happily and he gathered she liked the pistols. Not everyone did. They were too heavy for duelling and not particularly elegant. But in combat they gave a good account of themselves. They were a soldier’s weapon and he suddenly realised she was a soldier. The handmaiden was battle trained, and somehow he didn't think that had anything to do with her background. The Tenarri women were trained to duel, but not to go to war. He wondered what other unexpected callings Tyrel's handmaidens followed.

“So what now?” Mara was quick to ask the question as they stood there staring. “What do we do?”

“Now we wait and watch. I think we've got all of them, but some might get up and we need to be ready if they do.”

And that was the sorry truth. There were unlikely to be more of them out there, waiting to pounce. Sprigs wouldn't have the foresight to plan multiple attacks and none of them would have had the wit to hide. But still, some of those they'd knocked down could get back up. And they had to be ready for them. The only good news was that the creatures weren't intelligent. If there were by some chance any more of them still coming or if some of them got back up they would simply try another direct attack from the wilds or from where they'd fallen.

Still, it would be hours before they knew. Long hours of standing there waiting and watching. And then in the morning Edouard knew that he'd have to burn the bodies to make sure. But at least until then they were all alive and safe in the tower.

Of course that meant that they'd have time to talk. And after the conversation they'd already had that evening, he didn't want that. In fact, he suddenly thought that it might be a good thing if more sprigs would attack.

At least he could shoot them.

On the other hand he was intrigued by the way Kyriel had so expertly felled the sprig, and without the slightest sign of panic. She had a soldier's temperament and that was rare in a woman. And she'd complimented him on his pistols. He liked that too.

Chapter Eleven

“Did you see that?”

Brut looked to his companion on the parapets, wondering what he was talking about. It was dark and there was nothing to see. All around in the flat lands beyond the city it was calm. Peaceful. Silent. But still he saw the look in Kirrin's eyes and knew he was serious. Maybe he'd been too long on guard duty. They all had been. And maybe his eyes were playing tricks on him. But he was genuine in his belief that there was something out there.

So, despite it probably being a waste of time he turned and studied the dark landscape in front of them, searching intently for anything that might be moving. But there was nothing. His friend was just jumpy. They all were, ever since the mammoths had struck. Soon enough he turned back to face him.

“There's nothing there. Your eyes are playing tricks on you in the dark,” Brut told him. But Kirrin didn't seem convinced and his eyes kept studying the land beyond them. It wasn't long before he spotted something.

“There it is again.” Kirrin pointed and Brut let his gaze follow his hand. What else was there to do after all? They were on guard duty, patrolling the remains of the ramparts and the battlements that had once kept the city safe. They were supposed to be looking for enemies, not warming their hands in front of the braziers that had been set up all along the ramparts.

This time though, he thought he saw something. Not anything in particular. Nothing he could identify. Just a smudge in the darkness. But that smudge had moved. He was sure of it. And what was more he thought there might be another smudge moving.

“By the Seven!” It was probably just smugglers and thieves creeping in and out of the city through its broken walls, people they definitely didn't need even if they weren't a herd of rampaging mammoths, but there were still things that needed to be done.

“Kirrin sound the bell.”

Brut gave the order. It wasn't something that they could do lightly. Not since the attack. The people were still terrified that more mammoths would be heading their way, and every time the bell was rung there was panic in the city. That was why the captain had ordered that before it was rung there had to be two people sighting the enemy. The last thing anyone wanted was another panic.

The last thing the guards wanted either was to hear the bells. Too many of them had been killed and injured when the mammoths had struck. The rest were at their limits. Those who survived and could still stand were working long hours. There was so much to do as they had to try to protect the city and stop the looting. On top of that they were sleeping in stables since their barracks had been destroyed in the attack. The end result was that they were tired. Deathly tired. They needed their rest.

Released from the captain's orders by his agreement Kirrin immediately dashed off down the rampart, heading for the nearest bell. Brut meanwhile kept watch on the smudges as they moved, trying to make out a little more of what he was seeing. But it wasn't easy. They seemed to move a little and then stop, exactly as thieves would. Move then freeze and check to see whether anyone had spotted them. Then when they were satisfied they hadn't been seen, move a bit further.

But the one thing he was slowly becoming sure of was that there were more than two of them. The smudges, now that he was staring out into the darkness and away from the braziers, seemed to be everywhere.

Were his eyes playing tricks on him? He wondered about that. After all, he had just accused Kirrin of the same thing. He was tired and the memory of the mammoth stampede was still fresh in his mind. It wasn't impossible that he was seeing what he feared and not what was actually out there beyond the wall. He hoped not. But then as he became certain that there were actually dozens of smudges moving out there, he prayed that it was just his eyes playing tricks. It could be a full scale attack and anything was better than that.

The sound of the bell took away his worry as he knew that whatever he was seeing would soon be exposed for everyone to see. That should scare them. If enemies were coming they would quickly flee. Broken walls or not, there were still armed guards patrolling.

A pair of flaming arrows streaked through the sky as the watchmen nearest the light towers set the fires atop them ablaze. Though it seemed like a silly way to light them, it was necessary. The towers stood proud a hundred paces in front of the gates, ready for action, and there was no way to reach the top of them save by massive ladders. Ladders an enemy wouldn't have, they hoped. So an enemy couldn't put them out. It was an arduous task reloading them each morning after they'd been lit, but it was worth it.

The huge stacks of wood and oil in them quickly caught fire, and immediately the soft yellow glow of the flames lit up the surrounding land. Land that at first Brut thought didn't look that different to how it had before. He certainly couldn't see any enemies gathered in the long grass seeking to attack the city. Just a whole lot of scrub that he didn't remember being there. The fields outside the walls were supposed to be just grass. The better to spot an enemy in hiding as there was no cover for them.

Then the scrub moved and Brut's heart stopped beating.

The scrub had actually moved! Not people hiding behind it, the scrub itself. And like everyone else he knew the tales of the bards. He knew that there was only one enemy that could be made of scrub.

“Sprigs!” Someone further down the wall made the call, and Brut wished he hadn't. Naming them just gave the truth to the nightmare. Worse, as each new tower was lit and their light spread a little further out across the grasslands beyond the wall, he could see more of them. This wasn't just a small party of sprigs. It was an army.

And standing against them, what did they have? A massive wall broken in nearly a dozen places through which the killer trees could walk openly. A few hundred guards, most of whom had been asleep until the sound of the bell. And not nearly enough muskets. They needed muskets.

The moment he thought of it Brut drew his, laid its barrel down across the cold stone of the crenelations and took aim. Then, as soon as he had the enemy in sight he fired. At least a dozen others fired at much the same time. But the enemy wasn't bothered. Brut was sure he'd hit his target – he practised with the weapon as often as he could – besides which, he'd seen the sprig take a small step back as the musket ball hit it. But it hadn't stopped the creature. Maybe he'd knocked a couple of its arms off, but that was barely a flesh wound to a sprig.

Quickly he started reloading the musket, hoping against hope that he would have the time he needed to kill all of the sprigs, but knowing he wouldn't. Others of course were firing as well, and maybe they would have better success. He hoped. But when he finally had the next musket ball loaded and was ready to fire again, he couldn't help but notice that very few of the enemy had fallen. And they were getting closer.

Some were on fire though. The archers, knowing that the sprigs were vulnerable to flame were sending more fire arrows into their midst, and trails of smoke were shooting across the sky. But even on fire the sprigs kept coming. Fire wouldn’t stop them until they had been burnt to ash. That could take a while.

Then the cannon opened up, and thunder boomed across the land. They at least had more impact and the shot from each blast sent dozens flying backward, pieces of them exploding in all directions. But still too many of them kept getting up, and for every one that fell there seemed to be scores more behind them. The army was huge and more of the enemy were appearing from out of the darkness with every second that passed.

Brut fired again, hitting another of the sprigs, and then started frantically reloading. But all the while he knew they were in trouble. There were just too many of them and they were getting closer all the time.

He managed another dozen shots before he heard the sounds that scared him the most; pistols. That meant the sprigs had reached the wall, and soon he knew it was going to be hand to hand. In close combat the sprigs would win. Still, he was forty feet up a rampart and none of them were close to him, so he kept shooting.

Load, aim fire. That was his life for the moment. It was all their lives.

Soon though, the cannon fell silent, and he knew why. Most of them had been positioned in the holes in the walls, there to shore up the broken defences. But on the ground without solid walls in front of them they were vulnerable to attack. One by one the sprigs overran them, killed the cannoneers and then made their way into the city to find more people to kill. And there was nothing he or anyone else could do to stop them. He was stuck on the wall, watching them pass by underneath him and shooting those he could.

Soon he could hear gunfire coming from deeper within the city, and he knew the broken walls had been completely breached and Theria invaded. He could hear the sounds of swords smashing into wood, and the screams of the dying. And through the thick smoke that was rising all around he could see flaming sprigs wandering the streets behind him, killing at random.

Brut kept firing, turning his attention from the army still outside the wall to those inside, and trying to save as many people as he could from the enemy's spear like limbs. But he discovered in a moment of terror that that might have been a mistake. He knew it when in the middle of reloading his weapon he heard the sound of stone crunching behind him and realised they had climbed the wall.

He spun, dropping his musket and drawing his sword in one fluid move, just in time to see the first of them clambering over the wall only a few feet from him. He chopped desperately at its nearest limb. The blow was a good one and the sword severed the limb cleanly, but the sprig had plenty more of them. A heartbeat later one of them punched straight through his leather and chain armour and he knew as he saw the limb pulled clear covered in blood that his battle was ended. It was only his side that had been pierced but more wounds were coming.

He kept fighting though. He had to. Somehow he managed to sever another couple of the creature's limbs from its body, before another spear found his middle. That was a killer blow. He knew that even as it pulled its limb free, not least because of the sudden shocking weakness in his legs.

Brut fell to the wooden ramp, unable to stand any longer, and his sword went flying away into the distance. Then as he lay there on the ground, helpless, staring at the stars above, he felt another spear rip through his shoulder, crunching bone as well as flesh. That one he truly felt.

After that he didn't really know a lot. All he knew as he lay there breathing his last, was that the creature had moved on to kill others. And it wasn't alone. Even as he lay there more crawled over the wall beside him, and then passed him by as they continued on their bloody way.

First mammoths, now sprigs. It just wasn't fair. Why were the Seven allowing such monsters to attack their fine city? But even as he asked the Seven his question Brut knew he'd never get an answer.

Maybe that was just a soldier's lot in life.

His world became a strange place then, and it began with his not dying. He didn't understand that. He should be dead. He was sure of it. But what he did understand was that as he lay there, in pain and unable to move, he somehow kept refusing to take his final step into the hereafter. He had no idea why, but he didn't seem to have a choice in the matter either. So instead of dying he just lay there and listened to the sounds of the battle all around as he stared at the stars above.

Somehow the battle raged on and on, even after he thought it must surely end. He heard the screams and yells of men dying. The sounds of rifles and pistols in action. The thuds of steel on wood. And he kept wondering how they continued. There were only so many guards to begin with and most had surely been on the walls. All he could think was that the citizens themselves had joined the fight. Perhaps they had had to as these monsters roamed the streets freely and there were none left to protect them.

Whatever the reason, the battle refused to end, and so somehow he watched as the stars wheeled around in the heavens above him, and listened to the never ending sound of battle below.

And then finally, just as he began to realise that the battle was ending given that the sound of gunfire was slowly winding down, he heard a new sound. One that he'd never expected to hear.

It was the sound of people cheering.

He didn't understand. People didn't cheer unless they'd won, and there had never been any real hope of that. Not with so many of the sprigs attacking and the walls broken. Yet from all around he could hear the sound. And little by little it was growing louder.