Chapter 52: Bad News
Chapter 52
I quickly found out Castile was being carried, not because she was injured, but because she was exhausted. The only glimpse I got of her was of sunken eyes that were a struggle for her to keep open. I tried to figure out who was missing as we moved to the Legion Hall.
I went through the archers in my head and did not see Caius, one of the archer specialists in our company. That made sense since he was on the wall. The other person was…Lysander, our backup cook. Was it wrong that my first thought was joy that I would never have to eat his cooking again?
The Legion Hall was lit with oil lamps as we all rushed inside. Delmar ordered, “Those packs and weapons there,” he pointed at one wall stacked with dozens of packs and weapons. I moved with others to shoulder one of the burdens. It was a pack full of quivers and packets of rations. I assumed they had been stored here in case we needed them on the outer wall. Now that it had fallen, we would use them at the inner city wall.
Castile was placed on the table as Adrian added, “Everyone eats and drinks. We move on in fifteen minutes.”
I moved to sit next to Pavel, one of the archers. “What happened in the tower?” I said while eating some thick, salty, sweet crackers on one of the tables.
Pavel was dripping with sweat. He sounded tired as he repeatedly flexed his forearm, probably exhausted after firing dozens of arrows. “We managed to halt the flood of scaling ladders. As the fog started to return, Blaze shot down one of the griffin riders.” Pavel took a long pull from his canteen in a pause.
“Regis and Caius were hit with attacks. Killed on impact,” Pavel’s voice sounded hollow as he had been paired with Regis. They bunked together and shared a lot of patrols together.
After giving him some time, I asked, “So, how did the outer wall fall?”
He brought out one of the wrapped meals Lirkin had made us. I left my satchel in the tower when I went to find the griffin. He handed his meal to me, and I unwrapped it. Thick-cut glazed bacon chunks were between a dense bread smothered in butter and thin strips of red marinated bell pepper strips. I ate it while he started to open another one for himself.
“After the griffin went down in the city, the Bartirdians pressed forward with all their men. The fog enveloped them as they advanced, and we started firing blindly into the fog. I guess our mages did not have any more spells to push away the fog. Their archers got in range, and Castile and Gregor screened us from their arrows for a while, but Gregor’s aether ran out first,” he shook his head. “When the enemy realized it, they attacked his tower with explosive magic.”
Adrian sat down on the other side of me, and picked up the tale, “The tower that Gregor was in was quickly overwhelmed by the attacking mages. Castile did her best to thwart their casting, but there were too many for her to defend our tower and dispel their magic.”
I guessed, “And she probably could not see well in the fog either.”
Adrian smiled tightly, “No, Castile had no trouble seeing in fog. There were just too many spells being cast at us. She exhausted herself trying to protect Gregor before his tower collapsed.” While chewing on something, he continued, “When Castile was swaying on her feet, Delmar and I picked her up and carried her away. The fog was thick enough that the regulars did not see us pull out of the tower. We really had no choice with the state Castile was in.”
Pavel put his food down, “How many mages do the Bartiradians have?”
“At least nine assaulted the walls at our position,” Adrian said, standing and finishing his food. Lysander barged into the common room. I was happy to see him—as long as he never cooked for me again.
He shouted, “They have formed beyond the gate already and attacked the first barricade.”
Adrian swore softly, “They are moving too fast!”
Delmar had gotten a stretcher to carry Castile, but she sat up and waived him off. She swung her legs down and stood unsteadily. She spoke with command, “They are moving recklessly into the city. The regulars will inflict heavy losses on them. We will spend our time getting ready for them on the inner wall with the city guard.”
Delmar looked across the room, “Eryk and Brutus! Flank Castile and make sure she makes it to the villa!”
I shrugged on the heavy pack and moved to Castile, “I can walk!” she rasped as she moved outside into the foggy streets. The fog was clearing, though, and I was not the only one to notice.
“They stopped fucking with the weather,” someone shouted.
Adrian shouted, “Do not tarry! Move to the inner city! Once that fog clears, the rest of their griffin riders will see us from above the city.”
We shuffled off, and even though Castile did not want the help, we still crutch-carried her to speed up her progress. Castile weighed almost nothing between us. Castile started talking to herself as we moved, her anger flaring. “Defend an entire city with three mages! Duke Octavian is going pay for this ridiculous assignment.”
I decided to tell her what the rider said, “Castile, the griffin rider I took care of—she said the Duke was not going to save us. They know what the plan was.”
Castile barked at me angrily, “Of course they do! It was a stupid plan!” I sensed her anger and thought it better than to add any more input from me. We hustled through the misty streets lit dimly by the blue moon and oil lamps.
I noticed a few groups of soldiers and city guards starting to pull out more barricades. Brutus noticed as well, “Well, that is a good sign.”
Castile looked up, “No, the outer wall fell too quickly. The city guards were to have all the barricades in place for the regulars to retreat through the city while bleeding the Bartiriadian’s advance. If too many regulars fall on the outer wall, their retreat will fast through the city.”
We reached the familiar inner gate with the orchards beyond, and Delmar ordered us to take Castile to the villa and guard her. I dropped my pack, and Brutus did likewise. The orchards seemed eerily quiet as we practically dragged Castile between us. My back ached a bit when we finally reached the door, “Not upstairs. Put me on a cot in the ballroom,” Castile ordered.
The legionnaire cots were still set up, and most were messy. Castile selected the nearest one and collapsed onto it, asleep in moments. I motioned Brutus to the large entryway into the room. I closed the door, and we both stood on one side so we could whisper to each other while Castile slept.
“How long will it take her to recover her aether?” Brutus asked me.
“I am not sure. It takes me more than half a day, but I am guessing my aether pool is much smaller than hers,” I whispered while using the wall for support.
We watched Castile sleep and waited in silence. I felt the need to get some rest myself and hoped we would be relieved soon. Konstantin and Orson, our two company scouts, came after about six hours. Konstantin informed us, “The enemy has secured the lower city, and they are pushing through the streets rapidly. Delmar expects them to reach us in less than a day.”
“Do we head back to the gate?” I asked.
“No, you can get a few hours of sleep. Lirkin in preparing meals. I will wake you two, and you can bring the meals to the gate,” Konstantin said. I started to head toward my small room, and Konstantin grabbed my arm, “Sleep in here, Eryk. I don’t want to be yelling for you if I need you.”
I found one of the cots with some seemingly clean bedding. It even had a pillow, unlike most of the others. I started to remove my armor, and Brutus tapped my shoulder and shook his head, no. I guess we were sleeping in armor. The pad was thin and smelled like grass mixed with wet socks. I put my head at the other end, and it was only mildly better smelling. I missed my soft mattress with its faint floral perfume smell, and griffin-down pillow.
I thought about dragging the mattress from the small room out here, but instead, I tried to get comfortable on the tiny cot, but the looming threat of the Bartiradians tearing through the city made it difficult. Tossing and turning, I tried to find something to think about to distract my mind from the threat.
My mind kept turning to the body in my dimensional storage. The elf woman I had placed there because I was reluctant to kill her. How was I going to remove her from the space? She would tell other people what I did to her—but then again, she was in stasis. She was also forming a fire spell in her hands when I placed her there. Would that spell still be forming when I removed her from the space?
Then there was also the possibility that if I killed her and then used the collector on her, I could get another essence with a magic affinity—possibly fire. Castile had told me I had consumed an earth essence. I had zero affinity before consuming the essence, and the pain of adding the new affinity to my core was unpleasant and painful. Consuming another affinity essence that I had an attribute of zero in was not something I was ready to do again at the moment.
I do not know when I fell asleep, but it was not enough for how long I slept. Orson shook me awake, “Help Lirkin bring meals out to the men at the gate. Send back four me to get some rest.”
Lirkin had baskets filled with meals. Each basket had two straps, making them an ad-hoc backpack. Lirkin noted, “There are about forty meals. Give the extra to the city guards at the gates. The hard apples should be saved for later.” That was all he said as he kept preparing food. He was using the cooking to distract himself from the impending fight.
We walked through the orchards, and the clear morning sky had trickles of smoke from the lower city. I was expecting more destruction and commented, “There is not much smoke; maybe the enemy is not pressing.”
Brutus shrugged, “Their mages are probably keeping any fires under control. They want to capture the city as intact as possible. The less damage they do, the happier the civilians will be when they assert their rule.” That made sense.
We brought the food into the tiny gatehouse room. A half dozen of our company were sleeping in here. Our entry woke them, and they decided fresh, cooked food was more important than their sleep. As the men took the food, I went to the gate. Two barricades were in front of the gate, and most of our men were behind the second one. Looking up to the top of the wall, the parapets on the inner city wall were narrow, just a few feet wide, and four of our archers were up there.
Adrian was nearby, so I informed him, “Orson said to send four men in to rest. Castile is still sleeping.” He nodded and sent Mateo, Felix, Kolm, and Lysander to the villa.
“Where do you want me and Brutus?” I asked, looking out into the quiet city streets. A barricade was about 200 yards down the main street, with men in city guard uniforms standing behind it.
“Second barricade here is fine. Once the Bartiradians reach this position, we will hold the gate to let the regulars and city guard retreat into the orchards. We will fall back to the Citadel ourselves. I do not think we are going to be able to use the aqueduct to escape,” he said with heavy words.
“Why?” My voice cracked a little from being dry and surprised.
He pointed up, and I saw five griffins circling high above. “They probably only have scouts on the route, but as soon as the griffins see us, they will send their cavalry to intercept us.”
“Can we not leave in the cover of darkness?” I asked hopefully.
“Most likely, one or two of those riders has an artifact or spell to see in darkness. The word from the regular army general is they are scouring the city for the downed griffin rider you killed. Where did you leave the body? I am surprised they have not found it,” Adrian asked with interest.
“Huh,” I said heavily. “Why was the elf someone important?”
“One of their general’s sisters. Or at least that is what the cryptic message from the regular soldier indicated when he reported a few hours ago. Don’t worry; once they find the body, they will calm down a bit before pressing forward. Hopefully, the Duke’s army gets here quickly.”
Of course, the elf I had trapped in my dimensional storage was the sister of the general scouring the city to find her and seek vengeance against the soldier who killed her.