To Be Chosen (The Maestro Chronicles) Page 12

  The gates were made of heavy gage Zunean steel and all of them, outer and inner, slammed down. By the time Frederick had counted to ninety, hundreds of men with halberds in hand joined the forty-eight already on the walls, more were in the torch-lit courtyard and several hundred bowmen were taking their positions as well, giving full coverage from all directions. Over a hundred men entered the manor to protect the royal family.

  Jonah Ducalin, dressed in a light green wool suit, joined him on the wall, sword in hand. “I heard the roars,” he said. “That means at least two sasquatches, maybe three.”

  The duke’s youngest son was tall, thin, and one of the fastest runners Frederick had ever seen. His dark hair was cut close to his scalp and his eyes were sharp as an eagle’s.

  “Truly, my lord, but the reaction of the swamp,” Frederick began to explain to the young man.

  Jonah raised his hand, calling for silence, after listening for a few moments, he added, “The crickets and frogs are still silent. If there were only a few beasts, the insects and amphibians would have started up again after the sasquatches passed, that means the danger is still near them and over a large area.”

  He and Frederick had been testing each others ability to read the swamp for many years, to recognize what different sounds, smells, and a hundred other little things meant. “Must be a whole lot of danger for crickets and frogs to be quiet so long,” Frederick agreed.

  “Should we go into full defensive status or do you think what we have now is adequate?” Jonah asked him.

  Even though Jason Remmick was the Captain-of-the-guard, he was new and had only eight years in the service. Jonah was in diapers when Frederick was assigned to the estate, so everyone, including the Captain, sought the opinion of the Sergeant-of-the-guard. “It could be no more than a handful, but as you know, strange things have been happening, Aakacarns have been launching spells at one another in the north, and the Serpent Guild has been sending thousands of yetis against mountain villages. I think it wise to go on full alert. If nothing else, doing so would be a good exercise for the men. They have been getting complacent of late,” Frederick told him.

  Jonah nodded his head in agreement. He raised his fist and Remmick, who was organizing the men in the yard, raised his fist in acknowledgment, then turned, issued orders, and one hundred twenty men broke off to get the pitch, balls, and launchers. The balls are about the size of a grapefruit, saturated with pitch, and launched by a spring loaded tube. Fires are lit in front of the tubes and the balls ignite as they pass through. The launcher is fairly accurate and can throw a ball well over a hundred strides. The estate had thirty-five launchers that can be positioned anywhere along the wall.

  Large shadowy figures, sasquatches, charged out of the swamp and through the sedge grass toward the gate. They were coming from the eastern side of the river in droves, at least a hundred strong. This was the stuff of nightmares and the urge to run and hide was no doubt creeping up the spines of at least a few men on the wall, but nobody ran; they were far too well trained.

  “Get those launchers over here,” Frederick ordered the pitch crews.

  Soon enough the four-man crews had thirty tubes erected on tripods and aimed at the coming horde.

  “Bowmen, at the ready,” he called out.

  Each man took aim and drew fletching to ear.

  “Launch volley,” the Sergeant shouted when the first wave of sasquatches came within eighty yards. Sixty arrows arched up and then rained down on the brown hairy beasts. A few died, some were injured, but the vast majority came on with more coming up behind them.

  Men with halberds lined the walls, ready to stab or chop anything that tried to get a grip or managed to climb over. When all of the attackers were in the field, Frederick counted a total of one hundred fifty, the number was unprecedented, but not beyond what could be stopped. It might not even be necessary to use the launchers.

  Twelve cloaked figures on horseback emerged from the swamp behind the sasquatches and Frederick felt a chill go up his spine. “Aakacarns, this could get real nasty,” he told the Duke’s son.

  A whirling sound, as if something was slicing through the air, whooshed past Frederick’s ear, and the head of guardsman DuEmmet flew from his shoulders, blood spraying everywhere from the collapsing torso, the man’s head hit the walkway, and then rolled off onto the ground below. Guardsman Hannet’s left arm was sheared away a moment later and bowman Angean lost his right hand before he could release the arrow he was about to loose, causing him to drop the bow. Men were ducking for cover behind the wall and sasquatches were leaping up, grasping the stone and vaulting onto the walkway. Men with halberds sliced and stabbed at the beasts until all were lying dead and bloody at their feet, all the while trying to keep their own appendages from being sliced off from whatever it was that made the whirling sound. Aid Providers took care of the wounded.

  “Launchers get ready to fire,” Frederick ordered. “Bowmen, loose at will!”

  The loadmen each placed a ball in the breach and snapped it shut, fire handlers held their torches in front of the launchers, sightmen took aim and the triggermen stood ready.

  “Fire!” Frederick shouted as four more guardsmen were sliced down.

  “It’s the Serpent Guild, this is more than nasty, I must consult my father,” Jonah stated and then leaped from the wall, and hit the ground running. He was no coward fleeing danger, this was his duty.

  Thirty balls of pitch blasted from the launchers, burst into flames, and hurtled into the twelve Aakacarns who, fortunately and foolishly, were fairly close together. Five of the figures, horses and all, were engulfed in flames, another cloaked figure took a flaming ball in the chest, was flung from his or her saddle, and then trampled to death by another rider whose horse had panicked. The remaining six Aakacarns were uninjured, no doubt possessing invisible shields.

  Three of the Aakacarns began throwing balls of fire at the walls, one bowman’s head went up in flames; the poor man had taken a direct hit. A ball of fire hit one of the launcher supply wagons and the whole thing exploded into flames, killing the entire crew. A sasquatch grasped the wall in front of Frederick. He swung his broadsword down, slicing off the thick hand, sending the smelly creature back to the ground from which it sprang.

  Alarm gongs went off inside the manor. How? None of the attackers had managed to do more than die on the walls, not one had gotten into the compound. Frederick had no time to ponder. How, no longer mattered, action was required. One frantic quarter of a mark later, a loud bang came from deep within the manor.

  “Keep firing,” he told the remaining crews. “I need more bowmen here!”

  Then he was engulfed in a hazel light, every nerve in his body cried out in pain. Throbbing in agony, he fell from the walkway and drifted into unconsciousness. His eyes opened, someone was talking to him. He was on the ground looking up at Captain Remmick on the wall directing the defenses. The tall young officer was doing an excellent job and Jonah Ducalin was kneeling on the ground and saying something.

  “Sergeant, Sergeant, do you understand me?” Duke Cantor’s son implored. He repeated whatever it was he had been saying.

  Frederick shook his head to clear away the confusion. The pain was gone, but that had been a stunning blow, and it took him a few moments to fully come to his senses. He sat up. “I am now, you were telling me?”

  Jonah’s brows were furrowed by the intensity of emotion coursing though him. He took a deep breath “My father has ordered me to pick an escort and make for Ducanton. Jebben and Kryten are doing the same thing, and we are to go in different directions, to be sure the message gets through. Aakacarns have tunneled under the manor and are making their way to the treasure chamber. What is in there cannot fall into the hands of the Serpent Guild. Are you able to head my escort?”

  “I would be honored,” Frederick replied. “What about your brothers?”

  “Jebben and Kryten have already taken to horse with their escorts, so hurry, we must be
going,” Jonah replied.

  Frederick wanted to go in and defend Duke Cantor, yet knew Jonah had a better chance of survival with him along. “I’ll get the horses.”

  “No, horses will draw unwanted attention,” Jonah spoke up before Frederick could take a single step in the direction of the stables. “We are going out through the back, south along the river, and out into the swamp, I know this land far better than these invaders, and mounts will only slow us down.”

  “As you say,” Frederick replied, “I’ll select ten guardsmen to come with us.”

  Jonah was shaking his head. “No, I want only you. The two of us have a better chance of success on our own, seeing as we both know how to survive out there,” he insisted.

  Frederick gave the matter some thought, not that he could overrule the young lord, but Jonah was persuadable if the right way is pointed out to him. Trouble was, what the young man suggested had merit. The Duke would not approve of an escort of one, and neither would the Captain, which is probably why Jonah waited for his old friend to recover from whatever spell had hit him. “We have a long way to go, let’s get to it,” he told the youngest son of the Queen’s brother.

  With swords sheathed and quarter staffs in hand, Jonah led the way into a narrow passage adjacent to the south gate. Steel bars blocked the exit. Frederick followed close behind the Duke’s son and watched as the young man tapped a precise rhythm on a pipe that ran up to the gatehouse. The bars slid up and both of them ran out into the sedge grass, dropped to their knees, and then crawled on their bellies several hundred strides, straight to where the river angled back to the south after bypassing the estate on the west side. Looking back, the battle drowned out the sound of the bars crashing closed. Flaming balls of pitch lit up the night, silhouetting the manor house. Men screamed, sasquatches roared and bellowed, and Aakacarn spells blasted at the walls. The Royal Guardsmen stood valiantly against invisible blades of death, fireballs, stunning flashes of light, and every nasty Melody the members of the Serpent Guild could wield.

  Another boom, loud enough to be heard clearly over the din of battle, sounded from within the manor house. “Keep going,” Frederick encouraged his charge.

  They reached the tree line, got to their feet, and followed the river’s edge south. “We should continue this way for another five spans, head east for ten spans, and then northeast to the capital road,” Frederick suggested.

  “My thought as well,” Jonah replied in a hushed voice.

  They were ankle deep in water and stepping carefully, using the quarter staffs to feel the bottom, trying to avoid walking on something deadly. What good if they get past the sasquatches only to be eaten by a gator? Two spans into their trek a splash in the river to the right caused Jonah to take a wild swing in the direction of the sound. A dark figure was springing up within several strides of him. It rose higher and higher and smelled like a pair of skunks at their most ornery. Frederick dropped the quarter staff and drew his broad sword. Jonah struck the sasquatch on the side of the head, a blow having no more effect on it than the tap of an infant. The creature roared and lunged at the young man, who dodged to the left, exposing the beast to Frederick, who stepped to the right while slashing the beast in the side just above the left hip. A bass rumble emanated from deep within the hairy brute and it swiped a clawed hand at the one who caused the hurt. Frederick ducked and swung again, taking off the thick-fingered appendage at the wrist. Warm blood spurted into his face, yet he wasted no time wiping it away, and swung his blade around in an arc, slicing through the thick neck, thus separating the sasquatch’s head from its shoulders.

  Frederick could not find his quarter staff in the surrounding darkness, and there was no time to stop and look, they needed to be far away before any of the beast’s pack came in answer to its call. “Keep moving!” he shouted, and they disappeared into the swamp.

  ---------------------------

  Serena Lowell ducked as an arrow bounced away; the response had been purely reflexive since the shield protecting her was focused to the front. She knew all sorts of Melodies for different shaped shields, some dome-like that nothing short of a higher potential could penetrate, and some shields that only covered her from the front, back, side, or from above.

  They tunneled into the subbasement of the manor, made their way into the corridor, and Ferret was now behind her. They managed to surprise and kill a few guards but one escaped and brought back reinforcements. Royal Guardsmen, two rows of five, one standing and one kneeling, were shooting ten arrows at a time from their position.

  Now was the time to use Jak. “Taltin, when I say, attack, you let loose your specialty at those men,” Serena commanded.

  She summoned the potential for a cone shield, to protect her from what was about to happen. Hopefully, the rest of her team was doing the same thing. She loosed the Da Capo from the forward shield, cutting off the potential, ducked down, shouted, “Attack!” and then focused the new shield over her body. Teal blue light shot over her head and fanned out just as it reached the double row of guardsmen. The men dropped their weapons and grabbed their heads. With mouths opened in silent screams, blood seeping from their ears, their heads blew apart within their helmets.

  The spell was titled, Sonic Boom, and it produced a sound so low in harmonics and so loud that it could shatter a stone, if focused tightly enough, while not harming the one doing the casting. If not for the shield, Serena’s head would also be missing. She glanced behind her and was pleased everyone still had theirs. The sound probably was heard all over the estate. “Forward, everyone,” She called, pumped her fist twice in the air, signaling her team, and stepped over the bodies, then dropped her shield. “Duzolta, scan for an area containing a large amount of gold; that will be the treasure room, and the place we are most likely to find the trumpet.”

  Ferret glowed red-orange, closed his eyes for about a thirty count, and then smiled. “This manor is full of gold scattered all over the place, but eighty paces to the right and ten cubits up, there is a heavy concentration of gold. I’m betting it is the treasure room,” he announced, and then replaced his shield.

  That was why she picked him to do the scanning. He knew all the different mineral spells and could find the metals faster than any other member of her team, excepting herself of course. She reformed her shield and they headed down the corridor, came to an intersection, and went to the right. At the end of the hall was a staircase. The door at the top slammed open, twenty Royal Guardsmen double-timed down to the subbasement, and set up defensive positions. Six bowmen at the top of the stairs began loosing arrows while their comrades stood beneath them, ready with halberds in hand to meet the threat. All of them were wearing padded helmets.

  Every member of her team once again had their cone-shaped shields, not that the commoners could see the glowing potential. Correction, every member was shielded except Taltin, who had cast, Sonic Boom. He was hiding behind Ferret when the arrows struck, but was unhurt. The corridor was not high enough for the bowmen to achieve an angle that could rain the shafts upon him. Her Aakacarns could not hear anything from within the shields; nothing could penetrate the energy force, not even air; except a higher potential.

  The six bowmen positioned themselves every third step while twelve more joined them from above. With three on each third step, they began loosing arrows in rapid secession, but only half at a time, causing the shafts to hammer at Serena’s team almost continually, clever that. They were giving her little time to switch from defense to offense, while keeping Taltin from attacking. He was too busy hiding behind Ferret, but at least had sense enough to keep an eye on his team leader. It was getting hard to breathe, the shields would have to come down soon or they would all suffocate. She raised her hand, made a fist, and brought it down in one swift motion. That was the signal.

  Teal light shot from Taltin’s emerald tipped golden baton, struck the ceiling and echoed throughout the corridor. The guardsmen’s heads did not explode because of the indirect
focus, but it did stun them long enough for Serena to change from a cone shield to a forward one. “Onward!” she shouted while summoning potential, torrents of energy filling her for one of her favorite Melodies. She dropped the shield and focused the potential for the other spell through her emerald tipped diamond baton. A golden lightning bolt arched out, striking one halberd wielding guardsmen, and then another and another, each one being flung back into his fellows with fatal burns in the center of his chest. She laughed and kept firing.

  DuCret launched blade after blade of solidified air at the men on the stairs, heads and various body parts went flying, and blood was spraying everywhere. Duggan began to laugh as she shot off miniature fire balls, about the size of marbles, at any guardsmen she could draw a bead on, burning little holes through their bodies. Ronan fired a chartreuse beam through his silver baton, striking a bowman, causing the man to drop his weapon, scream in total agony, and keeping him in that state until the man’s heart burst. Agony was a useful spell. A brief strike stunned the recipient while a sustained focus caused convulsions and death.

  In moments all of the defenders were dead and the way up to the next level was clear. Serena started up the stairs, stepping around some of the bodies and kicking a head, a hand, what ever appendage was in her way. She cancelled, Lighting Tap, and resumed her forward shield. A boom, followed immediately by intense heat, sounded from behind. She glanced back to see guardsmen in the corridor behind her team firing fruit-sized balls of pitch from five tubes mounted on tripods. Lorrin Temmon was enveloped in flames, screaming and thrashing his limbs right up to the moment he dropped dead. It seems his survival instincts were not better than the rest, for the members toward the back of the group, unlike him, all had their shields to the rear, trusting the team members in the front to guard them in that direction. Lorrin was not so trusting.

  Duzolta aimed his baton, focusing a red-orange beam at one launcher after another, freezing each one to the point they became brittle, fell over, and shattered. He then focused on the men. In rapid bursts, he struck each member of the firing crew, who were attempting a retreat. Ferret’s beam had the exact same effect on them as it did their weapons; they fell to the ground and shattered on impact.