<u>Chapter 41 - Siege of Arcaeus Peak</u>


    Emeria''s eyes snapped open. They flickered across her dark room.


    Nothing.


    And then the bed vibrated again. She pulled her thick blanket over her head and lay still, sweating. A long moment passed before her bed vibrated again. The bookshelf across from her rattled. She bit her lip, daring a peek from beyond her sheets. Her full senses slowly returned and lines of frustration appeared on her face. She sat up and huffed, running the back of her hand against a layer of moisture plastered on her neck. What am I doing being afraid of the dark at this age.


    Just in case, she leaned over and checked beneath the bed. The room vibrated again and her forehead struck the side of the bedframe. "Flaming Flames and Ash," she cursed. Dust on the floor had shifted with the vibration. Emeria threw her legs over and sat at the edge of her bed. Her soles touched the cold stone floor. A book fell on its spine and opened to the marked page. A book she''d been reading before bed. She picked it up and dusted off the cover. ''Militarisms and Governance of Atramus Serene'' the title read. A journal copy of Elizia''s second great grandfather. Or the third. Emeria wasn''t quite sure. Exhausted with all the books in her own chambers and the fiction works in Duke Serene''s room, she''d plucked a piece from Elizia''s chambers instead.


    It was no wonder she found no time for boys, studying saw dust works like these. Elizia was pretty, Emeria thought. And that had earned her some degree of attention. But Emeria could bet a wardrobe''s worth of dresses that any conversations her friend had managed to hold with interested parties turned bland and led to them losing interest.


    Emeria shut the book and placed it on her bedside table. It was worth reading if she needed to fall asleep quickly. She poked her feet into a pair of wool slippers and shuffled to the window. She pulled aside the drapes to let moonlight pour inside. There were red lines across one of her arms, the one she''d evidently been sleeping on.


    Outside, the garrison walls were rife with activity. Torches burned. Archers loosed in unison. One corner saw melee combat. Emeria peered to see the tips of ladders leaning against the ramparts. An occasional soldier jumped up over the edge, only to be impaled by Xenarian spears shortly after. It didn''t seem much from her high position. She wasn''t close enough to hear the screams or see the gore or smell sweat and blood. Flames, why am I repeating the vulgar descriptions from that book? To Emeria, it almost seemed like she was watching a play from a backrow seat. An exceptionally well-choreographed play, but a play nonetheless.


    Had she ever sat at the back when watching a performing troupe?


    She shook her head. The dainty thoughts of a sheltered princess is what that was. But then, what was she now if not a sheltered and spoiled princess. Stuck behind thick stone walls while men died outside to keep an enemy nation from reaching her.


    A boulder soared through the sky and struck the ground, causing everything to rumble, vibrations reaching Emeria. That''s what had broken her slumber. The boulder had fallen short a few dozen meters of the wall. She''d been assured that the Empire''s boulder throwers didn''t have the range to reach the walls.


    The first night of the siege and already a fierce struggle. The day had passed quiet with naught more than a standoff. The Empire had decided to do a night strike instead. Far beyond the walls, their wide camp stretched all around Arcaeus Peak. Orange lights littered the blackness around, seeming a sky with many flickering stars. Emeria''s hands moved of their own accord, fingers curling around the window''s handle, twisting it, and then pulling it open slow. The hinges creaked. A cold breeze brushed along her face and through her gold locks. It kissed her open neckline, chilling her insides as the air touched the sweat on her skin. She hugged herself.


    The screaming and clattering became very apparent now. She could more clearly see the sprays of dark liquid in that one corner of the wall. And yet, she couldn''t pull her eyes away. She could only rest her elbows on the frigid windowsill and stare as a child would when seeing a colorful play. This was a dark play. One with black and grey and pale silver. One with more incoherent screams than lyrical lines. One that showed the truth of the sword more than it showed the romance of it, a romance she''d chased after for so long. Emeria looked at the calluses on her right palm. Her efforts seemed so distant now. So worthless.


    The bell tower by the gates rung loud, their sounds bouncing against the walls and stretching across the plains below. Soldiers on the wall shuffled. A detached battalion of archers marched towards the gates while a stationed battalion behind the walls climbed the stairs to take their place. A battering ram making their way up the path?


    Battering rams are most effective when a portion of the walls have been taken. The mental strain that is put on the defenders saps at their morale, causing them to crumble as it dawns on them that hope is lost.


    …Boom!


    …Boom!


    …Boom!


    Each strike against the doors like a roar of thunder, a voice of god bellowing that he stands with the attackers!


    Else, the only other good use of a battering ram is to create a mountain of bodies with rivers of blood trickling from the top, from the sides, and from within like the veins of minerals and precious metals found within mountains. Or like melting ice atop a high peak. Or like—If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    "Flames!" Emeria cried, striking her closed fist against the sill. Why was she remembering those stupid lines from that stupid book? And why was brutality being described so vividly like a poet reciting a romantic lay? She shut her window and clamped down on her ears, forcing herself back into bed.


    Sleep didn’t come. The room vibrated still, every once in a while. Emeria turned on her side, finding a fresh section of her pillow that wasn''t already hot. It quickly turned hot and she huffed, frowning. Her eyes settled on the book at her bedside. She tossed her blanket aside with the fury of a puppy and opened that cursed book back to her marked page, holding it close to the light from her window rather than bothering to light a candle.


    ***


    Kalin grabbed the man by the collar and pulled him in. "Why weren''t they spotted earlier, soldier?" he seethed. His officer swallowed as his dark eyes moved this way and that, as if searching for words on Kalin''s shoulders. "I asked you a question!" Kalin demanded. The cold of night was but a cube of ice melting fast beneath his anger. "There were three whole squads stationed on this side of the wall and not one of you saw our enemies creeping up? An extra battalion of archers had to be shifted because so many were allowed so close!"


    The first night of the siege and his soldiers were already slacking off? They came wearing cloaks of black, crawling their way up the incline. The front gate walls had the least amount of stationed soldiers because making it up that incline without thick shields to cover was foolish. The number stationed should have been enough to cull any enemies making their way there but Kalin''s soldiers had blundered. A second set of ladders had almost been put up. If the front saw combat on the walls, then bringing a ram up the path would be an all too easy a task without archers to stop them.


    The officer swallowed. Lemul was his name. Kalin had made sure to check over who''d be watching where and when a little earlier. "It was, er, dark, grace," Lemul stammered.


    "Dark? Flaming Dark?" Kalin screamed. "A man in an alley sticks a knife in your gut, and you''ll what? Tell your wife it was dark outside? No you Flaming won''t. Because you''ll be lying in that alley a dead man with all your possessions robbed!"


    The other archers on the wall murmured, staring at the one sided confrontation. Now that the sneaking enemy had been forced to retreat, they were all standing watch, eyes peering at the dark plains for any more crawlers. But their ears were focused on the conversation at the side. Men from the originally posted three squads shuffled their feet. They were all to blame, but their superior officer was taking the heat.


    "Forgive me, Your Grace," Lemul stammered. "It won''t happen again."


    "Give your apologies to the soldier with an arrow in his shoulder." The enemies had gotten close enough to the wall to actually return fire to its defenders. "I don''t care for whether it won''t happen again or not right now, I care for wanting to know why it had happened to begin with!" Kalin said, gripping that collar tighter to the point where the officer looked to be struggling with breathing. Kalin let go, taking in a deep breath himself.


    What am I doing?


    To anyone watching or listening, this seemed hard discipline. But screaming like that left Kalin feeling ill and heavy. Discipline at Arcaeus was dealt in action. Rule breakers were forced into doing hard labor to contemplate their actions or even outright imprisoned for a length of time. Never had Kalin screamed at or insulted his soldiers when upset with them. I''m angry. Angry at Kazir''s words and I''m taking it out on them. That face, that proud bare and tall sitting back, that black scorpion tattoo on that still lean abdomen, it infuriated Kalin. He closed his fists just in remembrance and Lemul took a half step back at the gesture. It almost felt like taking Kazir''s eyes hadn''t been enough. That scar and those white eyes just seemed makeup on his face.


    ''I still see yet. We Wickar train our senses to the extreme''. Taking his eyes hadn''t been enough. He''d retaliated by taking Sar''tara. Not taking her entirely, no, but taking enough of her to leave Kalin in constant torment. "I should''ve killed you. Eternal Flames knows I should have killed you," he muttered.


    "Me, Your Grace?" Lemul asked, going ghastly pale.


    "Kazir. I should have killed him that night like he asked. Instead, we''re here."


    "Oh. Er…" Lemul suddenly bowed low. "Forgive us, Lord Serene. We weren''t paying attention. We were speaking among ourselves about…"


    Kalin frowned. "About?"


    "Well, about Lady Serene and the Second Princess. His taunts, Kazir''s I mean, they were angering to say the least. Angering to the point where we discussed what we would do to the man if he were ever captured. It is my fault for not keeping the squads in line and talking about ''ifs'' rather than focusing on the present. It''s just, poisoning Lady Serene already left such a grim atmosphere in Metsiphon. And then there were those threats aimed at Second Princess Elizia as well and we… we lost ourselves in conversation."


    Kalin sighed. They were good men, loyal and honest. They admired Sar''tara as much as he loved her and were as devastated by her fall. Scholars and servants still searched across Illusterra for an antidote to the Decade''s Curse. Better men from around the world had been seeking a cure for the vile poison for centuries. None had been found. Kalin knew in his heart that it was pointless. The men knew it as well. But none of them wanted to believe it. All of them clung to a string of hope. So long as Sar''tara was still breathing, they would continue to hang from that string.


    The threat to Elizia, too, was a constant nag on Kalin''s thoughts. He wouldn''t put it past Kazir to have sent assassins after her. In fact, given his smug tone, he likely already had. Kalin felt hot beneath his armor. He could feel a drop of sweat at the side of his head making its way through his hair. He wondered if sending Elizia out was a mistake.


    Dwelling on a past decision rather than the present.


    She was outside, somewhere in Xenaria. Lieutenant Faren would keep Elizia safe. He wouldn''t make the same mistake twice. All Kalin could do now was put his faith in them and focus on his own task here. He pressed a hand to Lemul''s shoulder and squeezed. "Don''t let it happen again, soldier. Or I will strip your rank and have you scrubbing restroom bowls for a year."


    The officer saluted, gulping at that last bit and then nodding furiously.


    "That goes for every archer on this wall!" Kalin bellowed. Nervous murmurs were followed by a call for salute from Officer Lemul and they all obeyed.


    Kalin rested his arms on the parapets of the ramparts and stared into the horizon. Thousands of campfires surrounded the garrison. He glanced to his left where a set of ladders had been placed. Tarmia must have lost at least a hundred men in trying to set those up and a few dozen more who''d tried climbing. The walls were quiet now, the ladders kicked down. Archers were no longer firing. And boulders no longer soared through the sky.


    The Empire had retreated. So came an end to the first day of the siege.