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DargonZine | Volume 19, Number 9 |
endasia, Empress of Beinison, Duchess of Northfield, and Queen of
Baranur rode west along the Kings' Road at the head of her army. Her
title of empress was merely a formality since her son actually ruled
Beinison, but the title Queen of Baranur held real power. She had
succeeded her great uncle King Stefan II upon his death, according to
his wishes.
A short distance ahead stood Woldarun, a village under her rule,
the last along the road before she would reach mighty Magnus. Caeron
Tallirhan, her cousin and grandson of Stefan II, who had stolen the
Baranurian crown while she was still in Beinison, had been killed
outside the walls of Magnus in Deber, more than four months ago. Despite
this, she did not hold the capital, for its citizens had stubbornly
refused to surrender it and instead proclaimed Caeron's widow, Dara, to
be their ruler.
When two of her armies had been wiped out in Quinnat trying to
capture "Queen" Dara, Aendasia had been forced to lift the siege she had
levied against Magnus the previous year and wait until spring to resume
her campaign. Now that the trees were in full bloom and the land was
green once again, she marched towards Magnus.
Behind her, a force thousands strong stretched far down the road.
It was comprised of professional Beinison soldiers and the citizen
levies from duchies that recognised her as queen. The largest contingent
was from Equiville, and Aendasia thought it very fitting that their
livery colours were white, which to her mind represented the purity and
truth of her claim on the Baranurian throne.
As she neared Woldarun, the town did not seem as joyful at their
liberation as she expected. Yes, people lined the streets to greet her,
but their faces betrayed unhappiness. They bowed only grudgingly when
she rode past them, raising the ire of her battle captain, Raimundo
Quikuches, Viscount of Marolleris.
"Exalted one," he said, "we should teach these peasants proper
respect for not only their queen, but an empress of mighty Beinison."
"They will learn respect," Aendasia said. She was sure of it.
Caeron had been a powerful and charismatic speaker -- she could not deny
him that -- and he had worked his magic on these poor, ignorant
villagers. It would wear off eventually, though, now that he was gone.
As Aendasia scanned the crowd, her eyes came to rest on a youth
with dirty matted hair, whose features smouldered with anger. He did not
bow at all, and instead shouted, "Blortnikson! We bow only to house
Tallirhan!"
Aendasia gasped. Such audacity! She couldn't believe that she had
actually heard the boy say that to her face. Wearing her
diamond-encrusted imperial crown, she had thought she would overawe
these peasants.
"King Caeron is our rightful ruler!" a villager out of view cried.
A few others seemed to take courage from this and added their voices to
his.
"Caeron is dead!" she shouted back at the villagers. The calls died
down and the peasants became quiet. A small group nearby applauded. The
voice of the angry, dirty young man reproached them.
"Don't cheer for that Beinisonian witch!"
Duke Baldwin Equiville drew his sword. "Who called my lady queen a
witch? By Nehru's blood I'll have you --"
"Exalted one, this is intolerable!" Raimundo Quikuches pulled his
battle axe from his back and summoned the master drummer to his side
with it. "We should kill these insolent dogs! Sound 'to arms'."
The master drummer beat out a tune on his large drum and his
underlings echoed him. The deep, rich sound of the Beinisonian drums
reverberated between the buildings of the small town. The army came to
an abrupt halt and the clicking of hundreds of weapons being lowered
from shoulders filled the air.
The villagers were now completely silent. They stared fearfully at
the weapons arrayed against them. Everything was suddenly silent, until
Aendasia shouted, "No! I will not have this. These are my people. As
queen, I am their mother and I will not see them harmed, even for their
show of disrespect."
In truth, Aendasia would have been perfectly content to stay in
Beinison, where she'd lived since she was wed to the Beinisonian emperor
Alejandro VII at the age of ten, over a quarter of a century earlier.
Baranur was a strange land to her after all these years, its people not
nearly as disciplined as the militaristic Beinisonians. She had loved
her uncle dearly, though, and she would see his wishes fulfilled. He
wanted her to rule Baranur, so when she was widowed and her son rose to
the Beinisonian throne, King Stefan had arranged for her to marry the
Duke of Northfield, ruler of perhaps the most powerful of the Great
Houses of Baranur. He had intended for her to rule, and rule she would.
It hurt her that she should leave her adoptive homeland for these people
and they rebuked her.
"Exalted one --" Raimundo protested.
"I said 'no', and I meant it!" The words were curt, but she
intended them to be. No one who was weak-willed could last long in the
Beinisonian imperial court. "Now continue the advance."
Drummers pounded out the order and presently the column was moving
once again. It was only a few bells later that Aendasia could see the
mighty walls of Magnus, just beyond the fast-flowing Laraka. They were a
magnificent sight, she thought, even to a jaded eye that had seen the
marvels of Cabildo, seat of the Beinisonian emperors, with its tall,
dark spires and extravagant temples guarded by stone dragons and
gargoyles. Even the massive slums of the city were impressive in their
magnitude.
The army broke from its marching formation and began the process of
blockading the city. They did not cross the Laraka however, for Aendasia
expected her husband to arrive from Northfield within a day to cover the
west bank of the river. Magnus' gatehouses, castles unto themselves, had
already been sealed tightly. Kheva's Bridge and everything else linking
the east bank of the Laraka to the west had been razed. The siege
machines that had been left behind when Aendasia retired for the winter
were nowhere to be seen, presumably looted for firewood by the peasants
of Magnus. She ordered Raimundo Quikuches to oversee the construction of
a new bridge to span the Laraka, as well as siege towers and ladders.
With most of the city's defenders being untrained city folk, she felt
sure an assault would be the fastest way to bring the royal city under
her control. After that, Crown Castle could only hold out for a few
months, she wagered.
"Baldwin," she said, turning in her saddle to look at the
middle-aged Duke of Equiville.
"Your majesty?" he replied, ever ready to take orders. His was
among the houses which had immediately recognised Aendasia's claim on
the throne, unlike Arvalia and Monrodya who had only seen the truth when
Caeron had insisted on being crowned by the Master Priest of the
Stevenic High Church, or Asbridge and Othuldane who had only joined her
in protest of Caeron's legal reforms.
"I would like you to bring my terms for surrender to the people of
Magnus and the castellan of Crown Castle. Sir Geoffrey Delborne, I
believe his name is."
"It would be my pleasure, you majesty," Baldwin said, bowing his
head.
"They are the same as in the winter. If they yield the city to me,
I will spare it the ravages of Lord Quikuches' Knights of the Dragon.
Also, the castle garrison will be spared." Aendasia had to keep her face
rigidly still lest she betray any emotion. The Order of the Dragon was
made up of capable warriors who did not wish to be burdened by the rigid
obligations of knighthood. She had made the same offer to Pyridain City,
and, when the duke had refused, she had been forced to make good on her
threat. She could still hear the screams and the crackling flames of the
city as her army had raped and pillaged their way through the streets.
It made her sick to think of, but she did not dare to show any lack of
resolve or strength. Curse Caeron; if he had never stolen her crown,
none of it would be necessary.
Duke Equiville was now out of sight, riding off to commandeer a
boat that would take him across the river. Aendasia remained astride her
horse, just off the Kings' Road, watching her army move past. Presently,
the baggage train rattled into view. It carried with it enough supplies
to keep the army fed for many months, tools for building war machines
and fortifications, even large pots to boil traitors in, following the
preferred Beinisonian method. It also transported Aendasia's bathtub and
other imperial necessities.
The most important item in the baggage train was a locked horse
litter that carried High Mage Isidoro Mon-Orthanier, the only one of
Aendasia's sorcerers who had survived the battle outside Magnus earlier
in the year. Nima Jaleit, youngest daughter of the loyal Baroness
Jaleit, who was charged with defending the baggage train, rode up to
Aendasia and bowed in the saddle.
"Your majesty, have you selected a position for your command tent?"
"The position it held in Janis will suffice," she replied. "But
first I wish to consult the High Mage."
Nima Jaleit hesitated for a moment before answering. "As you wish,
your majesty." She dismounted and strode over to the horse litter.
Several archers scurried to her side as she took a ring of keys from her
belt and opened the heavy lock holding the doors of the litter shut.
High Mage Mon-Orthanier leapt out as soon as the doors were open
and started to thrash about on the ground. The stench of faeces emerged
with him; he had soiled himself yet again. He shouted a few
incomprehensible words, then seemed to grow calm. The guards rushed up
to him and took hold of his arms. He mumbled, but made no move to escape
them.
"He is still possessed, your majesty," Nima Jaleit said. "Likely he
is still battling the High Mage Milverri Rhihosh inside his ravaged
skull."
Aendasia shook her head. Isidoro Mon-Orthanier had been one of the
most powerful wielders of magic on Makdiar when he had left with her
from Beinison. He had been a wise advisor and loyal subject, staying by
her side even when her first husband, Alejandro, had died and Aendasia's
first-born took the throne. But at the Battle of Magnus, the Baranurian
High Mage, who had allied herself with Caeron, unleashed a powerful
spell that had destroyed all of the other Beinisonian mages. Had
Mon-Orthanier not been so mighty himself, he would have likely shared
their fate. Instead, he was now possessed, often violently so, and had
to be locked inside the horse litter. Even so, he could still be called
upon to scry with telmatie blooms and give Aendasia valuable insight
into the future.
He looked up at Aendasia, his eyes surprisingly clear. "E-exalted
one, what do you desire of your servant-t-t?" He then descended into
more babble and struck himself on the head several times.
"I require an augury for the future, High Mage," Aendasia replied.
He nodded, mumbled some more, then shouted, "Telmatie! Bring it to
me. And a leaf ... the visions are clearer on a leaf ..."
One of the archers wearing the livery of Barony Jaleit brandished a
mortar and pestle, along with several dark purple flowers.
Mon-Orthanier, still being restrained by other soldiers, took the mortar
and pestle and began grinding the blossoms, producing a black paste. He
then took a large oak leaf and spread the paste over it. He stared
intently at the smeared black mush and mumbled to himself. Finally he
looked up and spoke, but the words were incoherent. He cursed and
started to struggle with his guards, yelling gibberish words. He broke
free and stumbled towards Aendasia, clutching her leg.
Nima Jaleit and several of her soldiers drew swords and daggers,
but Aendasia gestured for them to keep their distance.
"S-Spear ... from the sumiggen ..." His words again became
impossible to understand. He paused and Aendasia could hear him grinding
his teeth together. When he looked up at her, tears were welling up in
his eyes and his brow was furrowed. More jumbled words spilled out of
his mouth, then he managed, "Spear from the n-north ... beware ...
destroy her and victory will be yours!"
He fell to the ground, apparently exhausted. The Jaleit soldiers
grabbed his cloak and quickly pulled him a safe distance from their
queen and empress. Nima Jaleit looked up at Aendasia.
"Did you understand any of that, you majesty?"
"I believe I did," Aendasia said. Divination of the future was an
unreliable art at best, owing much to the scryer's interpretation of
what they saw, but Mon-Orthanier had been renowned for his abilities in
the craft and, even in his deranged state, she had an idea of what he
had said. "Spear ... I think he meant Welspeare, for it is known that
Duchess Welspeare commands a formidable army. She will try to break our
siege, and if I destroy her army, then the crown will be mine, for no
army will be left to defeat me."
Nima Jaleit nodded. "Mayhap, your majesty. We shall have to be
ready for an attack from the north, then."
"Your majesty?" Aendasia turned to see Duke Baldwin Equiville. His
face was red and he looked very unhappy. "They would not even open the
gates to allow me inside the city. I did not speak to the castellan, but
the mayor was quite disrespectful. And the justiciar --"
"Surrender, traitorous one!" in the distance a booming voice
intoned. Aendasia looked to see amidst the city defenders a man dressed
in the red robes of the King's Bench standing on the battlements. "I
have a warrant for your arrest on the charge of high treason,
Duchess Aendasia of Northfield!"
Aendasia stared in dismay. She was impressed that the city's
justiciar was able to shout loud enough for her to hear him at this
distance, from the other side of the mighty Laraka, but his statement
was no less ludicrous for its volume.
"If anything," Duke Equiville sighed. "The people of Magnus are
even more belligerent than those in the rest of the duchy."
Aendasia could only shake her head in confusion. Why did these
people resent her so? She was their rightful queen. Should they not hate
Caeron and Dara, who continued his legacy, as thieves?
"Archers!" Duke Equiville shouted, then galloped off towards the
nearest contingent of such soldiers.
"Pay them no heed, majesty," Nima Jaleit said. "Those walls and the
river they hide behind will not shield them forever, and then they will
know justice!"
Aendasia could feel her lip start to quiver and bit down on it
hastily. Then putting on the best air of indifference that she could,
she ordered her command tent be erected. She supervised the army as it
established the siege.
Archers fired volleys at the wall's defenders, forcing them to hide
behind the stone ramparts. Occasionally, one of them emerged long enough
to send an arrow towards the besiegers' lines. Turning her attention
from the archers, Aendasia could see a group of two olive-skinned
Beinisonian soldiers chopping down a tree. When it toppled over, they
hacked off the branches and another band of dark Beinisonians, stripped
to the waist, attached chains to the log and dragged it towards where
the tools had been dropped by the Jaleit troops. Beside those tools a
trio of soldiers wearing the white and black of Equiville were pulling
the ropes of a tent tight and securing them with wooden pegs. It was
almost dark when Aendasia made her way to the hill where her pavilion
had been set up. Her ladies-in-waiting and other servants had emerged
from the carriage they'd ridden in and were busy preparing things for
their empress' stay.
Aendasia dismounted and handed the reins of her horse to a short,
dark-haired squire. She strode stiffly towards the tent; it had been a
long day. She ordered some of the servants to start a fire and begin
heating water for her to bathe in. She then entered the pavilion itself,
where Jacinda was waiting. Jacinda had been Aendasia's personal
attendant since she had been sent to Beinison as a child bride many
years earlier. The middle-aged woman bowed as Aendasia entered.
"Exalted one," she said in Beinisonian.
"I think I will have a bath and early to bed," Aendasia replied in
the same tongue. Now, in the inner sanctum of her tent, she could
finally remove the mask of a hard, strong ruler. Jacinda was the only
person with whom she could trust her true self.
She slumped down on the bed that had already been set out and
buried her face in her hands. Tears began to trickle out from between
tightly closed eyelids.
"Why do they hate me, Jacinda?" she sobbed. "It hurts me so, that
they would prefer the wife of a dead pretender to me, my uncle Stefan's
appointed heir. I don't even want to be here; I'd rather be back in
Cabildo. Why am I doing all of this for them?"
"Shush, my lady," Jacinda said soothingly, sitting down on the bed
next to Aendasia. "Here, let me get that heavy crown off your head."
She lifted the diamond and platinum crown and placed it carefully
on a waiting pedestal. Aendasia felt instant relief as the weight was
removed, for it was a formidable piece of jewellery to wear on one's
head. It was intended to be worn only on formal occasions, and even
then, only for a few bells at a time, not a whole day. A full suit of
chain mail did not ease the burden any.
"Now I'll hear no more defeatist talk," Jacinda said softly. Though
the words were harsh, her tone was soft and gentle, like a mother's.
Indeed, Jacinda had been the closest thing to a mother Aendasia had
known since the age of ten. The maid dabbed at Aendasia's tears with a
cloth.
"I loved my uncle so," Aendasia said. "I must fulfil his last
request, that I be queen. Ah, curse that thieving Caeron and his greedy
wife who will not give up the crown even now."
"Here, let me help you remove your armour, exalted one," Jacinda
said softly, pulling the surcoat bearing the Blortnikson coat of arms
over Aendasia's head. "The people will learn to accept your rule, in
time. Truth is truth, and they must see that eventually."
"They hate me because I am a Beinisonian," Aendasia said.
"Beinisonian, Baranurian, Comarrian, Lederian ... It matters not;
you are their queen. They cannot hold true to a usurper for long;
Ascendere will not allow it."
Aendasia nodded. "You are right; I must keep faith. If Ascendere
could place the stars, he will certainly come to my aid." Jacinda pulled
the heavy chain hauberk off and Aendasia suddenly felt as if she might
float up off the bed. "Oh, Jacinda, I feel so much better just having
that armour off."
"Your majesty!" a female voice invaded the tent.
Aendasia ground her teeth at the breach in protocol. She could hear
Jacinda gasp in disapproval as well. She thought she recognised the
girl's voice as one of her husband's squires. Aendasia purposely kept
her back to the pavilion's entrance.
"What is it?" She made her voice as cold as she could.
"Forgive me, your majesty," the squire panted, "but my Lord
Northfield has just arrived, and he commanded that I inform you
immediately. I swam the Laraka --"
"Inform my lord husband that I will call on him on the morrow,"
Aendasia said icily. She could not see Valeran with her eyes puffy from
tears. Furthermore, as an empress, she could make her husband wait if
she wanted to. She was always in charge of their marriage and kept
things that way with small acts such as this one. That her husband had
ordered his squire to swim the river showed how anxious he was to see
her. It was not that she did not want to see him. Indeed, she likely
craved his warmth in her bed more than he desired her, but keeping him
waiting would ensure he never forgot that she was not at his beck and
call. It was another tactic she had learned from her experience as wife
to a Beinisonian emperor.
When the squire did not leave right away, Aendasia snapped, "What
are you waiting for? Bring my message to Duke Northfield."
"Y-yes, your majesty." The squire darted out of the tent and
presumably back to the Laraka River.
It was late the next day before Aendasia deigned to commandeer a
local fishing boat and cross the river to meet with her husband. When
she arrived on the west bank, blue-clad soldiers were waiting for her
with one of the duke's horses. She mounted and rode casually through the
camp. She was pleased to note that the Northfield army was well set up
and Magnus surrounded. Several ballistae were being built to the north
and would soon ensure that no ship could pass by unless it was loyal to
Aendasia.
It was not long before she found her husband, astride his
chestnut-coloured horse on a low hill, supervising his part of the
siege. His copper-coloured, shoulder-length hair blew gently in the
wind. She was happy to see that he was not wearing armour, for that
would have taken several long moments to remove. She was almost beside
him before he noticed her.
"Das-- exalted wife." He corrected himself at the last moment. He
had almost called her by her pet name in public. Such a breach in
protocol might have given him frostbite. Aendasia couldn't help a little
up-turning of the corner of her lip at that thought. She had him well
trained.
"My lord husband." She extended her hand and he kissed it. In the
past he had complained that even Caeron Tallirhan "the pure" had kissed
his wife fully on the mouth in public. Aendasia was still a Beinisonian
empress, however.
"As always, it has been too long," Valeran said. Indeed, they had
not seen each other for several months while he was raising levies and
calling on his vassals to reconstitute his army after the winter repose.
"But as you can see, I was successful in gathering a substantial army.
On the move north, I was able to 'convince' Piet Durening to finally
surrender Beid Castle to me. After a winter under siege, I suppose he
gave up on anyone coming to his aid. I was also able to take the Abbess
Matilda of Shaddir and several knights captive in the deal."
"An excellent bit of negotiation, my husband," Aendasia said,
allowing her formal imperial mask to crack just enough to show a smile.
"Yes, that is most excellent, indeed. Duchess Welspeare has no more
vassals to call upon now that the last of her castles has fallen. That
is how I will gain such a victory as Mon-Orthanier said, if I can crush
her army."
"Isidoro Mon-Orthanier?" Valeran said. "But isn't he --?"
"Never mind that. We must discuss some strategic matters. Your tent
should be a suitable place."
She gave Valeran a look that made perspiration break out on his
forehead. "Uh, y-yes of course. It will be fine."
He spurred his horse off towards his pavilion at the canter, but
Aendasia followed at a much slower pace. She had no trouble finding his
tent, for of all the blue ones present, his was the only one that flew
the blazon of a white falcon above it. As she neared the tent, she
caught the last of Valeran's instructions to one of his male squires.
"... Ol's balls, if anyone interrupts the empress and I during
discussions, and I mean anyone, I'll cut *your* balls off!"
The boy went white and nodded frantically. Then he noticed Aendasia
and dashed over to take the reins of her horse as she dismounted. He
bowed his head and mumbled a quick "Your majesty". She ignored the
squire and strode into the tent where Valeran was waiting. She carefully
closed the flap behind her and they were alone.
"Ah, Dasia, I've missed you!"
"I know you have," she said with a smile, turning her back to
Valeran so that he could untie the lacing of her gown. He fumbled with
it, but finally got the dress off. As she slipped the rest of her
undergarments off, he took in a sharp breath of air.
"Shilsara's bed, you're beautiful!"
Some wives might have been insulted if their husband invoked the
name of the Olean goddess of lust, but Aendasia rather enjoyed it. She
had a firm body from years training for war, since a Beinisonian ruler
also had to be a warrior. She also had long blonde hair that was almost
white, a rare prize in Beinison, where most were dark. She was pleased
that Valeran recognised and appreciated that.
As he frantically tried to pull off his pants, she pushed him down
onto the cot and straddled him. As wife to Alejandro VII, a cruel and
abusive man, she had been subject to her husband's every will. Sometimes
that meant beatings, sometimes worse, but with her duke of Northfield
she was the dominant one. She would never let a man treat her like a
belonging again.
17 Firil, 899
As the siege continued, the citizens of Magnus seemed to grow
braver and braver. They started showing themselves on the walls more
often, usually to curse Aendasia. This day, Aendasia sat on her horse
next to Valeran and her battle captains to the north of the city, on the
west bank of the Laraka. After Mon-Orthanier's prediction, she had
always observed the siege from a northern position so that she could
lead her army into battle when the Duchess of Welspeare arrived.
At the moment, they happened to be fairly close to the walls of
Magnus. Aendasia noticed there were quite a few townspeople without
uniform on the walls. One of them, a butcher judging by his
blood-stained leather apron, pointed her direction and shouted, "There's
the Duchess of Northfield!" Many peasants wearing shades of brown and
grey started filling the ramparts, pointing and waving their hands.
"Beinisonian whore!" one of them screamed.
"Why don't you go back to Cabildo so you can squirm with your
Beinisonian cuckolds, queenie!"
"Erida curse their graves!" She felt the insults strike like arrows
in her heart.
"You codless vermin!" Duke Equiville shouted back at them.
"Save your breath, Baldwin," Valeran said.
Several of the townsfolk dropped their pants or lifted their
skirts. Some showed their bare buttocks; others faced forward. More
cries of "queenie", "whore", and worse rained down on Aendasia from the
battlements. Duke Equiville snatched a crossbow from a nearby soldier
and fired it at one of the men waving his penis in Aendasia's direction.
The bolt missed, but the man did lower his tunic and duck as the missile
whistled through the air scant fingers away.
Aendasia balled her hands into fists. Never had she been subject to
such ridicule, and this from her own subjects! She could take no more.
"Assault the walls! By Gow, I want those knaves swinging by the end of
the day!"
"No one is happier than I to see that Ascendere, the Lord of
Justice, has shown you what these scum truly deserve, exalted one,"
Raimundo Quikuches said. "But we are not ready. None of the siege towers
are complete; we have but a few ladder--"
"I don't care!" Aendasia slammed a mailed fist down on her thigh.
"I ordered an assault, and we will take those walls. I don't care if I
have to climb a ladder and seize them myself!"
"Dasia --"
"Give the order, Raimundo." Aendasia cut her husband off with an
icy glare.
"As you command, exalted one," Raimundo replied. He barked orders
and soon the deep resonance of Beinisonian drums could be heard
throughout the plains surrounding Magnus.
Aendasia summoned the squire that carried her war sceptre and took
the two-handed mace from the girl. "Valeran, go to the south and order
your siege crews to launch burning tar from the mangonels. I want the
south side of Magnus aflame while we attack! And," she grabbed her
husband by his chain mail gorget and pulled him close so she could
whisper in his ear. "If you ever call me 'Dasia' or question my
authority in front of my battle commanders again, I'll cut your cod
off."
"Yes, exalted wife," he stammered. "Forgive me."
"Of course," she whispered, then planted a kiss on his cheek. She
did not particularly enjoy being so harsh with him, but then he had
never struck her, as her first husband had, so it was worth being hard.
Valeran galloped off to the south. By now, the army camp was in
disarray as soldiers hurriedly doused fires, pulled mail hauberks over
their heads, and readied weapons. Aendasia rode to the Westgate to
address her troops before the battle, since that was the most formidable
obstacle they faced.
She made a customary speech, reviling the enemy and predicting
victory, for their cause was just, but she also added a few comments she
felt sure would stir her troops to righteous hatred.
"Will you let these butchers and carpenters and smiths curse and
taunt your empress from the safety of their battlements? Will you stand
by while they call your queen a whore and a queenie? If not, then take
those ramparts for me and let them taste justice! Gow and Nehru will
guide you against such vile scoundrels!"
The troops let out a loud cry and as one charged the walls of
Magnus, carrying ladders over their heads or waving their weapons in the
air. The battering ram trundled towards the gates behind them, guided by
several stout Beinisonians. Aendasia rode to take her place with her
bodyguard of Knights of the Star, warriors who wished to prove their
worth on the battlefield. It was customary for them to accompany the
ruler of Beinison into the worst of the fighting.
Aendasia watched with pride as her loyal soldiers thundered towards
the castle walls. A few arrows flew from the battlements, but the
townspeople of Magnus had too few to do serious damage. Soon, the first
ladder was secured and a white-clad man-at-arms of Equiville scurried up
it, brandishing a mace.
The defenders were ready, however. They had made many poles to push
the ladders off the wall. That first ladder was also the first to fall
victim to the poles, and the maceman tumbled from the ladder and knocked
over a few of his fellows when he plunged to the earth. His ladder sent
more bodies flying as it crashed to the ground. A short distance down
the wall, Aendasia saw a large cauldron with steam billowing from it
emerge above the ramparts. It tipped over and a stream of yellowish
boiling oil rained down on the soldiers below. Screams of pain roiled up
from the attackers' lines as men and women were scorched by the deadly
liquid. A man-at-arms wearing the red and grey Tallirhan colours pushed
a damaged piece of wall over the edge of the ramparts and it thundered
to the ground, crushing several soldiers and smashing the leg of a
downed ladder. Aendasia even saw a burning wagon wheel and a lit lantern
fly down from the walls.
Her soldiers were brave, but Aendasia could see the attack was
faltering only a bell into the assault. A Knight of the Dragon, his
chainmail flashing in the sun, made it onto the ramparts, but the ladder
he'd come up on was thrown away from the wall by a pair of townsfolk
with their pole. As the knight turned and hacked at them with his sword,
a bald man with a heavy blacksmith's hammer approached from behind. He
smashed the Beinisonian warrior over the head, and the knight
disappeared behind the ramparts. An Equiville soldier was able to grasp
the wall and prevent his ladder being pushed back, but then had his
skull opened by a carpenter's hammer and he and his ladder collapsed.
Even when the battering ram finally made it to the gates, it and its
crew were doused in boiling pitch. Burning torches were then thrown down
onto the ram and it burst into flames so hot that no one could approach
it until it was no more than a pile of smouldering ash.
Even Valeran's attacks from the south failed, for a strong
northerly wind suddenly picked up, extinguishing many of the fires and
blowing the smoke back towards the Northfield army's lines.
Finally, Aendasia realised that the walls would not be taken this
day, and staying in the fight would only result in more casualties.
"Sound the retreat," she ordered the master drummer who stood to her
right.
She gritted her teeth and turned a baleful stare towards Magnus and
its spiteful inhabitants, who were now cheering and showing their
behinds once again as her loyal troops staggered away from the city
walls. She would not allow herself to be humiliated thus again, and she
swore that when she did take Magnus, it would pay the price.
As sennights gave way to months, Aendasia realised that the siege
of Magnus was going to take a long time, possibly even years, and with
no certainty of success. Given the breadth of the Laraka, ships were
able to bring occasional supplies despite the ballistae and catapults
set up along the banks. Even if she were to breach the city's formidable
walls that were a good seven feet thick and twenty-six feet high, Crown Castle
was nearly impregnable, with a keep high enough to scrape the sky
and double walls, encircled by a deep ditch and perched on a hill.
She soon grew restless, then discouraged, and by mid-Yuli decided
that Magnus could wait. Abandoning the siege, she sought to cut off
Magnus' lifeline, the Laraka, by taking Irskin Castle, which had been
held by Tallirhan vassals. She then turned her eyes towards Port Sevlyn.
The previous year, forces loyal to Aendasia had besieged the ducal seat
of Quinnat, but that siege had been lifted when the army was lured into
a trap while attempting to capture Queen Dara. It seemed fitting to
Aendasia, then, that a part of her revenge on the wife of he who had
usurped her crown would be there.
29 Sy, 899
The sky above Port Sevlyn was a bleached blue-white colour that
shimmered with heat, bereft of any clouds, for Sy had been a month of
drought and dust. Aendasia was sweating heavily beneath her chain mail
gambeson and surcoat bearing the arms of her adopted family, the
Blortniksons. Her stallion, too, was lathered in sweat and pawing the
ground.
Her troops waited all around her, hunkered down in the shadows of
the houses that lined the street. The city walls had fallen to
Aendasia's initial assault three sennights ago. The castle, however, had
repelled her attackss thus far, and Duchess Annora Quinnat had remained
defiant, scorning all demands for surrender.
This day the outlaw duchess would regret her obstinacy. Over the
past month, Isidoro Mon-Orthanier had recovered somewhat and Aendasia
was ready to put his powers to the test once more.
Her husband moved close on his horse and whispered, "Dasia, are you
sure this is a good idea? I think Mon-Orthanier is still possessed. Can
we trust his magic?"
"I tire of waiting to starve these traitors out of their castles,"
Aendasia replied, "and Isidoro Mon-Orthanier is one of the most powerful
sorcerers in Beinison, in all of Makdiar, even. If he says he is ready,
he is ready. But enough talk; my decision has already been made."
"As you command," Valeran said, "exalted wife."
Aendasia signalled for one of her squires to bring forth her war
sceptre; the time was almost nigh when the attack would begin. She could
see the sorcerer Mon-Orthanier standing a short distance away, no longer
restrained by Nima Jaleit's troops. He raised his arms, and began to
chant in a loud, deep voice. At hearing that, Aendasia felt any
uneasiness she might have had melt away.
A low rumbling filled Aendasia's ears. At first, she thought it was
merely the Laraka, on whose banks Port Sevlyn was perched, but the
thunder got progressively louder, until she felt as if she were in the
middle of a mighty storm. The sky remained clear, however.
Three ear-shattering cracks rang out and Aendasia's horse reared as
the earth beneath it began to shake. She could hear Valeran curse behind
her as he struggled to keep his mount under control. A villager darted
out of her house and tried to move through the soldiers, screaming that
she didn't want to die. They pushed her back into her home, however.
Aendasia looked over at Mon-Orthanier, who had fallen to his knees. He
was still making signs in the air with his hands, but the motions were
not smooth. His arms jerked as if some invisible opponent were trying to
restrain him.
Again, a loud crack, and Aendasia looked up to see part of the
castle walls buck as the ground directly beneath it heaved upwards.
Stones toppled from the wall and timbers splintered. Aendasia watched in
awe as her surroundings grew silent. Then Isidoro Mon-Orthanier let out
a mighty cry and the house he was standing next to burst into flames.
Horses whinnied loudly and soldiers cried out in alarm as flames
appeared on the keep's ramparts, and more of the buildings around them
were ignited without any apparent cause. Aendasia could sense that her
own army was on the verge of panic, but so too must Quinnat Keep's
defenders have been. There was a breach in the wall from the tremor in
the earth, and more masonry was tumbling to the ground each moment.
She didn't know whether the effects she was seeing were by design,
or whether the sorcerer's spell had escaped his control, but she
couldn't allow this chance to pass. Waving her imperial war sceptre in
the air, she spurred her horse forward and ploughed through the infantry
in front of her.
"With me, to the castle!" she shouted.
"For the empress!" Valeran cried behind her.
With her Knights of the Star around her, she charged towards the
gap in the wall. She realised as she was almost at the walls that she
had not yet donned her helmet, having wanted to wait until the last
possible moment before putting it on. No matter; it was too late now.
She could see out of the corner of her eye that Raimundo Quikuches was
leading his Knights of the Dragon on the attack as well.
Aendasia could feel her horse shy away from the flames, but she
forced it onwards and jumped over the last bit of wall that lay before
her. Then she was in the castle bailey. Soldiers wearing the green and
blue of Quinnat swarmed around her, fleeing towards the safety of the
keep.
She swung her giant mace downwards, smashing through the helmet of
a soldier beside her. The man toppled to the ground and Aendasia wound
up for another swing. Her knights surged into the crowded bailey,
hacking and slashing about them, the Quinnat soldiers falling to their
blades like sheaves of wheat.
The events of the next few bells dissolved into confusion and fear
for Aendasia, and she didn't remember much of it later. She could recall
only certain images: the keep's stables bursting into flames and the
screaming horses inside desperately trying to escape, a young soldier
pinned to the ground by a lance, and other troops being crushed as a
part of the castle walls collapsed on them.
The keep was quickly overtaken and its occupants surrendered within
a few bells. All told, the assault on the castle, the culmination of a
three-sennight siege, lasted but three bells.
30 Sy, 899
Aendasia's triumph proved to be less than complete. A thorough
search of the castle revealed a frustrating fact: Duchess Annora Quinnat
had somehow managed to flee the city. Whether she had made good her
escape during the three sennights of siege, or in the confusion of the
battle, Aendasia would likely never know. To make matters worse, her
most prized ally, the sorcerer Isidoro Mon-Orthanier, had disappeared
also. Raimundo Quikuches and his Knights of the Dragon were scouring
Port Sevlyn in search of the possessed mage, but Aendasia had little
hope that Mon-Orthanier would be found, even if he were still alive.
And so, Aendasia was in a foul mood, despite the capture of a
strategically important city, as she sat in the sweltering great hall of
Quinnat Keep. She squirmed uncomfortably in her chair as a group of
dishevelled prisoners were dragged before her. The duchess' uncle, Sir
Arnulf Bankroft, had stayed behind, and now stood in front of the
rightful queen.
His thinning hair was matted, his eyes bloodshot, and his cheeks
and beard darkened by soot and dried blood. Shackles, which he seemed to
wear as a badge of honour, bound his wrists, and he held his chin high
as the guards forced him to his knees.
"I am here, my lady," he said. "Do with me as you will."
"You will address her majesty by her proper title!" Baldwin
Equiville made as if to strike Bankroft across the face, but Aendasia
stopped him with a raised hand.
"One might think you the loyalist here, rather than the miserable
wretch of a rebel you are, scapegoat of your craven niece who fled
rather than face me herself."
"My niece is no coward!" Sir Arnulf barked. "In fact, we had to
force her to leave ere you took the castle, knowing she'd be of no use
to Queen Dara in one of your dungeons."
"How dare you speak to me so?" Aendasia said, careful to keep her
voice icy. "How dare you come before me in chains and boast loyalty to
that unworthy woman, who isn't even a Tallirhan by blood, that pretender
wife of a dead traitor? I am the last surviving Tallirhan!"
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