Betrayal at Falador (52 page)

At dawn they came. The Kinshra charged the three breaches simultaneously and raised ladders along the length of the wall. So swift were they that Ebenezer’s trebuchets overshot their mark.

In the easternmost breach there were too few men to resist the enemy. Within minutes those few citizens and guards brave enough to stand had been driven off by the sheer weight of enemy numbers.

In the centre breach the same was true. Long arrows from the foresters who had fled their homes before the Kinshra advance were not enough to halt them, despite the fearful accuracy that felled scores of the enemy before they reached the streets.

In the western breach, where Ebenezer and his militia still fought, the Kinshra advance was briefly checked. The men of the militia fought with a suicidal desperation that overcame their better trained foe.

As the Kinshra hesitated in the breach, Marius’s youthful passion asserted itself over his tactical training.

“Push them back! Drive them out of the city! Force them into the breach!” he yelled, waving his blood-stained sword above his head in a courageous frenzy.

His men cheered and the Kinshra gave way, their front ranks turning to push aside the men behind. Into the breach the defenders rushed, shoving the Kinshra before them. They thrust with their pikes and slashed with their swords and yelled with an animal ferocity that even the followers of chaos had never heard before.

Sir Tiffy Cashien called to Ebenezer, aware of the danger Marius was falling into. He had ridden hard from his park bench, barely escaping the Kinshra soldiers who had stormed through the central breach.

“Ebenezer! You must pull your men back or we shall be surrounded” he shouted. “The enemy are in the city. If we linger here we shall be trapped!”

The alchemist knew he was right, yet he couldn’t dismiss the thought that if they were victorious at the breach then the rest of the city would rise to follow them. Even if it were to mean their deaths, it would be worth it.

Sir Tiffy saw his friend’s indecision.

“According to Theodore’s message, Kara should arrive soon,” he said. “We have a chance, Ebenezer. Sulla’s force will be divided—some in the city and some outside—but we need your men to make it a reality. We cannot delay!”

The alchemist looked toward the breach, shrouded in smoke and echoing to the sounds of battle. After their brief hesitation, the Kinshra were rallying.

“And what of the city guard in the gatehouse? Do we abandon them?” Ebenezer asked, knowing that his retreat would leave them unguarded.

The old knight nodded.

“We have no choice. They can seal themselves in the building for a few hours. Besides, the gatehouse won’t be the target— once the enemy get into the city they will look for plunder and forget the battle.”

With a sigh, Ebenezer gave the signal. Swiftly his men abandoned their position, running south toward the castle.

As they ran, Ebenezer counted the men. Three hundred had gone into the breach and now they were only half that number.

“The Kinshra have broken through the wall, Sir Vyvin!” a messenger announced breathlessly. “There are hundreds of them at each of the breaches.”

“Does the gatehouse still stand?” Sir Vyvin asked calmly.

“Yes, sir—though for how long is anyone’s guess.”

“Ten minutes will be enough, my friend.” He turned to the men under his command. “Gather your weapons, for we shall leave here as soon as Sir Amik joins us.”

Sir Vyvin noted their courage lift at the very mention of the name. He smiled into the hopeful faces of the peons who had donned their armour and stood waiting to be led into a battle they were still too young to fight.

He thought back upon his last visit to Sir Amik’s chamber. He had opened the door to find Bhuler struggling to help Sir Amik from his bed. In a fit of sudden anger the valet had shouted at Sir Vyvin.

“Shall I tie him to his horse as well?” he railed. “Will that satisfy your damnable honour?”

Sir Vyvin had said nothing, for there was no answer he could give that would pacify Bhuler’s righteous anger. But Sir Amik’s presence—riding in his armour and under his banner—was the only thing now that could give hope to his men. Sir Vyvin had closed the door, and as he had done so he heard Sir Amik fall to the floor while Bhuler uttered a curse.

He decided now to go back into the tower and drag Sir Amik from his bed himself. As he moved to do so, a door opened and a cry went up from his men.

For Sir Amik was standing there in the courtyard, holding his banner. With a sudden shout of encouragement, made all the more terrifying because it issued from behind his white visor, he raised the banner above his head and limped to his horse, which stood at Sir Vyvin’s side. As he made his way through the men, they clapped and cheered and beat their swords on their shields with renewed fervour, while the peons wept unhidden tears at their leader’s courageous sacrifice.

“I wish I had the strength to ride with him,” an injured knight said as he, too, wept openly. “To go with him on the final ride of our order, and to commit indelibly to history the courage of our friends,”

Without a word, Sir Amik drew his sword, pointing to the north where their enemy had begun to burn the city.

The guard on the gate looked to the north also, waving his flaming torch. The man next to him blew a long signal on a horn. It echoed across the city, gaining strength as it overcame all other sounds, until it reached the city guards and Captain Ingrew on the northern gate of Falador.

An answering torch was lit and a second horn was blown. Sir Amik dug his heels into his horse’s flank, leading every man still capable of fighting out of the courtyard, to the north and to the war.

The Kinshra had driven all resistance before them, but now they were in the city their minds turned to plunder. Swiftly their discipline broke down and many, drunk on the rage of battle and their thirst for violence, fought amongst themselves.

It was the mistake that the defenders had prayed for, for it gave them time. With each passing second, Ebenezer and Sir Tiffy exchanged desperate yet hopeful glances.

When would Kara come?

Marius formed his men into a thin line across the street that led to the south part of the city, where all the inhabitants of Falador had fled. Dozens of others joined them in the retreat south. Some were bowmen from the northern forests who had fought the Kinshra at the central breach, others were young men who finally realised there was no other option but to fight in order to protect their families. Still others were old men who had decided to die with honour rather than whimper their days away, dwelling on their youth and what might have been had they had the courage to act.

Every citizen had been given a second chance, to face death with courage and prove that they deserved the right to call themselves free men. Sir Tiffy sat on his horse, looking to the north of the burning city. The Kinshra had made no attempt to engage in pursuit, and that worried him.

“Sir Tiffy Cashien? Is Sir Tiffy here?” a young voice shouted. Ebenezer turned to see one of Emily’s messengers as he ran toward him.

“I have a message, sir! It is from Sir Finistere, from the almshouse.” The boy looked furtively into the man’s eyes. “It is Sir Erical! He has been seen. He is being watched even now.”

The knight sat silently on his horse, his mind in turmoil. The man who had caused them so much damage over so many years was within his grasp, in the very hour his city was collapsing into anarchy. Was it all his fault? Had their defeat come about because of just one individual?

He raised his head, and his eyes filled with angry tears.

“He must be destroyed!” Sir Tiffy declared, his words shuddering. “He has caused so much death. He, above all others, must be destroyed!”

“I shall come with you,” Marius said, before the old man had even asked him. “Many of my fellow squires perished by his treachery, and I could happily die today if I knew he was in the ground before me.”

“I shall come also, if you will permit me,” said the alchemist. “This man tried to murder my friend. I would like to look him in the eye and to ask him what reason he has for such treachery. I shall inform Lord Tremene that he is to take charge. He has proved himself more than capable.”

The three rode to the north of the city, each burning with the desire to confront and punish this one man who had wrought such destruction upon them all. Their minds were so focused on their task that they did not even notice the horns sounding on the breeze, echoing above them off the high white walls.

For the knights had ridden out of their castle.

SIXTY-SEVEN

Sulla heard the horns.

Then he saw that the gates of the city had been opened. It could only mean one thing—the knights were riding forth. Instantly he recognised the danger, for his army was packed up against the breaches, trying to storm the city.

His men were not expecting an attack from behind.

He signalled his cavalry chief and saw Gaius raise his lance tip in acknowledgment. His four hundred horsemen would ride to intercept them.

The knights would come, but they would not find Sulla so easily caught.

No one barred their way. No spearmen attempted to hem them in, no arrows fell amongst them and no cavalry rode to intercept them.

They had taken the Kinshra by surprise.

Out they charged, following Sir Amik. The old knight’s tattered banner waved above their heads and he brandished his sword before him. Through the gate they rushed, onto the plain. Their white helms and burnished shields reflected the bright morning sun from the east, blinding their enemies and filling them with panic.

The Kinshra infantry outside the westernmost breach had no time to react. They were too disorganised to repel an attack from an enemy they believed they had already beaten. Into the loose body of black-armoured men the knights charged. They smashed the invaders aside, trampling them under the hooves of their warhorses and driving their way to the centre of the group before any pikes could be levelled.

Sir Vyvin fought at Sir Amik’s side, cutting the arm off the nearest enemy and parrying the panicked thrust of a pike.

“Sir Amik! We must charge the guns!” he yelled.

But Sir Amik pointed to the east, where Gaius’s cavalry was approaching.

Then Sir Vyvin knew what Sir Amik intended. The lance points of the Kinshra horsemen would be deadly, and to remove the danger the knights had put the Kinshra infantry between them. So if the enemy cavalry chose to fight, they would have to ride through their own soldiers and sacrifice their tight formation. And if they did that, swords rather than lances would hold the advantage in close quarter fighting.

Ebenezer gripped the runes tightly. His heartbeat quickened. He knew Sir Tiffy and Marius shared his excitement, for both stared fixedly before them. Sir Finistere greeted them and sent away the messenger with a gold coin in his hand.

“He went this way,” the old knight said, pointing to a culvert at the base of the wall—one which was large enough for a man to duck under.

“That way leads to the sewers of the city,” Sir Tiffy said quietly. “If you know the way, you can actually get under the wall and out into the woods beyond. It may be that the traitor is attempting to run.” He and Marius looked darkly at each other and Ebenezer knew that neither was willing to give up the chase, not even if it meant abandoning their city.

“He only went in a moment ago,” Sir Finistere said. “He stood outside for several minutes before disappearing. Could it be that he is expecting somebody?” He, like the others, held his sword tightly.

“I know the way through the culvert and under the wall,” Sir Tiffy said. “We should go after him now—just us, for we have no time to spare.”

He looked briefly to the three other men. No one spoke. With a grim nod he drew his sword.

“Then let us go” he said, running briskly toward the culvert.

Across the road, in an abandoned town house, the man smiled grimly as he watched the four figures run to the culvert. He had known of the hidden entrance for many years.

He watched as the group disappeared under the wall, seemingly into nowhere. With a heavy sigh, he loosened his sword in his scabbard and ran after them as swiftly as he was able.

The Kinshra infantry was broken. The men closest to the savage onslaught of the knights turned their backs on their enemy, pushing their way through their comrades in an effort to flee.

Gaius watched as Sir Amik gestured with his banner, rallying his men behind him for a sudden charge that would direct the fleeing infantry into the path of the oncoming cavalry.

At the same time, another knight took charge of a dozen horsemen, riding out ahead of Sir Amik to the north. They prevented the Kinshra infantry from spreading out, herding them back directly toward their own oncoming cavalry.

Gaius saw exactly what his enemy were up to and he cursed bitterly, knowing there was nothing he could do. If he broke off his attack to avoid the fleeing infantry, then the knights would have the advantage and the speed to close in on them. Yet if he were to continue, then the infantry would be crushed by his own horses.