She fought to keep the desperation off at the thought of what was being prepared back at the crater and, instead, focused on accomplishing the goal she’d set out. There would be time for panic later.
What she hadn’t expected, however, as Bianca brought her over the Anvil’s walls was to find them all lined with daemon corpses.
A forest of spikes met her as she crested the wall, stretching out across the entire length of the fortress fortification. She hung in the air above it all, held in place by Bianca’s anchors, and took in the scene of carnage. No other arrow was fired in her direction.
“I’m waiting,” she called out. “Best reveal yourself. I’m here to help.” She had to scream over the buzzing of flies.
The field through which she’d flown were overrun black by swarms of engorged flies. Their droning noise climbed all the way up there. She felt a few on herself, as big as walnuts, clinging to her coat. A burst of electricity from Christina fried them all off. As far as she could see, gazing down, only daemon corpses littered the ground beneath, arranged into piles. She would’ve drawn on Anna for a better look, but the more immediate sight was an even bleaker one.
Spikes had been raised atop the walls, mortared in place from one end to the other. A palisade of spears thrust up at the sky. Daemons, mostly beastmen, lay impaled there. Some screamed in the light, still alive, bleeding black ichor as they were tortured.
There we hundreds at a glance. Maybe over a thousand. Maybe more.
Nobody had yet come to meet her. She took it all in and wondered if she was too late, if this was some other odd sight to announce another disaster.
Then she saw the men atop the walls, hiding among the corpses. A horn sounded somewhere and soon she stared at hundreds of bows raised towards her from behind the gruesome ward. A figure approached on the topmost landing, waving at her.
“Human?” a female voice called out. “Are you human, sorceress?”
Blast my soul…
She recognized the voice, though she hadn’t heard it in decades. Bianca drifted her closer as she held her hands out, showing she held no weapon and summoned no channelling. She took in the soldiers hiding behind the rows of body. Beyond the blacks walls, there was utter devastation in the courtyard beneath, homes and buildings gutted by fire. But there were no corpses there as outside.
“I come from the Rock,” she called out as she approached the lone figure waiting with weapon raised. A wicked double-headed axe smiled up at her. “I’m a friend.”
“We’ll decide, sorceress,” the figure answered.
Tallah felt shivers of expectation running up her back. Could the woman really be here? Still alive? She’d be ancient by now, well over a century and looking still impressive from afar.
Arrows and crossbow bolts were aimed at her. She almost felt the eyes watching her, taking careful aim at her back and chest. These men hiding among the rows of the dead had been fighting alone for a long, long time. Their distrust was warranted.
And here she was. Tallah hovered about a meter off the wall when the woman came to meet her. Landing now, without permission, would unleash every projectile aimed her way.
Short, stocky, with a chest like a barrel of beer and a face like a wolverine, here stood Liosse, of Low House Ebony. Ashen silver streaked her long, once red hair. She still wore it tied in a braid that spilled down her back. A fist the size of a melon raised in Tallah’s direction and a thick finger stabbed accusingly at her.
“Name yourself, sorceress. Because who you look to be wouldn’t be fool enough to show ‘er face to me again.”
Tallah grinned. “I did miss you, Liosse. I hope the feeling’s mutual.”
The stocky woman turned her face and spate to the side. Her one good black eye never wavered from observing Tallah. The missing one was covered by a bloody rag of a bandage. She took another step forward and opened her arms wide.
“Get over here, girl, and give me a proper greeting.”
Bianca landed and Tallah was immediately scooped up into a bear hug so strong and brutal that she felt her back popping and her ribs creaking even as the woman barely made it up to her chest. Liosse, the Beast of the Cauldron, had lost nothing of her strength in her old age.
‘Is that really Liosse?’ Christina asked. ‘The Liosse? Twenty galleys to her name? She who toppled the Guild twice?’
“The one and only,” Tallah grunted, barely drawing breath. “You haven’t aged a day if a thousand, you horrid hag.”
“Bathing in the blood of daemons is me secret to immortality, lass. Blind gods below and above, it is good to see your skinny arse back here.” She released Tallah but held on to her waist. She gave her a critical look over. “Still skinnier than a rake with the shits. Do ye never eat?”
Men around the corpses relaxed. Some of them, the ones that Tallah could see, collapsed where they stood and were asleep in moments. Even Liosse, for her bluster, looked haggard and worn, the fighting having taken a heavy toll.
“How fares the fight?” Tallah asked, though she could see for herself.
The Anvil was depleted and exhausted in body and spirit. How these men still fought was a mystery. And why they were still allowed to still resist, given what the dragon had shown her, was doubly so.
“We’re giving a good account of ourselves,” Liosse said, the smile never leaving her craggy broad face. “Our musician died a tenday ago so I’ve been forced to raise morale with me own beautiful voice.”
That got a weary groan of displeasure from some of the her ragtag force. Another whimpered.
“If you’re coming from the Rock, then you know the straits we’re in. I doubt you brought any reinforcements down there with you.” She made a show of looking over the wall at the death fields. “I hope that lad over there’s still kicking about. Vilfor doing alright? Last scout t’ make this far said he was in charge now.”
“Alive and kicking. Wasn’t thrilled with me heading here.” Tallah shook her head. “I’m alone and all you’re getting. I need to know how many of you there are.”
They walked past the rows of impaled daemons and down the inner stairs of the wall. “Few hundred, at most,” Liosse said as they descended. “We’ve no mage. No healers. Almost no food. Soon we’ll eat this lot, probably.” She pointed towards the stairs leading down into the city. Rocks blocked the entrance to the grotto. “They got in. Murdered scores of civilians. Left us in ruin.” She spat over the side. “Killed our mages. Ate our healers. A complete disaster before we got our knickers up.”
“They came in from the tunnels?” Tallah asked.
“Aye. From the tunnels. Dropped from above. Crashed against the gates. A day fer rememberin’ and no doubt. We’ve been fighting just to stay alive ever since.”
This wasn’t far removed from what the Rock had suffered, though it made little sense that one fortress had fared better than the other. Their forces should have been equal.
“And how are the attacks?” Tallah asked carefully. “Have you noticed anything odd?”
Liosse shone her good eye on her, eyebrow raised, crags on her face arranged in good-nature amusement. She gestured expansively at the ruins of the fortress. “What exactly could you mean?” Sarcasm dripped off every word.
“The attack, Liosse. How have you been faring against the attacks?” Tallah had counted the men she’d seen. There was no way for them to have survived a real assault, even with the Beast of the Cauldron still kicking about. “You have almost no fighters left. How are you alive?”
“Grit and anger, girl.” They continued down the stairs. “We’ve been giving a good account of ourselves, we have. Every night. We bleed. They bleed. We catch whatever we can and stick ‘em up on the wall.”
“Does that make any sense to you?”
“Nah. But it beats telling the men they’re dead and walking.” They turned into a corridor, its door shattered to splinters, guarded by a single soldier with a spear. “We’ve left the dead out there, luring the dragon closer. It comes every other night and eats its fill. Kills a lot of the bastards every time.”
“Have you seen the crater? Do you know what’s happening there?”
“No clue. No scouts. No eyes. Just slowly bleeding to death.”
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Finally, Tallah figured where they were going. It was one of the larger mess halls at the Anvil, the one where soldiers normally ate, close to the base of the wall. She could hear voices. A soft song drifted down the twisting, narrow corridors. They passed soldiers waiting at critical junctions, swords at the ready, manning makeshift defences.
“You still have civilians with you,” she said. “They haven’t all perished?”
Liosse led her through the last barricades and opened the wide double door at the end of the corridor. Beyond, the mess hall had been transformed into a refugee camp. It was packed with women, children, and the decrepit old. Only on first glance and first count there were well over two hundred warm bodies in there. Still, it was but a fraction of the town population. Tallah’s back tightened in anger at the sight, then in worry.
Liosse caught sight of one of the women manning a cauldron in the open kitchen.
“Carilla, bring a warm drink for our guest here.”
Children ran around the large room, carrying short swords as they play fought. The sight felt oddly at odds with the dire situation.
Tallah accepted a steaming hot mug of some spiced tea from the gaunt-faced woman. She raised an eyebrow in Liosse’s direction.
“Spices ain’t much good to us anymore,” the woman said. “Best to brew them into drinks. Clears up the sinuses t’ better enjoy the stench out there.”
They sat at a long table overflowing with maps and hastily scrawled battle formations. It had seen long use. A corallin, nearly the size of a dray, slithered up to Liosse and purred loudly when the woman sat down. It rested a massive head on her lap, looking as ancient as its master.
Tallah sat opposite and marshalled her thoughts. She could take ten people from one side to the other at a single jump. Between herself and Sil, it would be about fifteen jumps each to handle it. A jump did require some illum but it wasn’t something they couldn’t handle. Still, the force outside wouldn’t do much to bolster the Rock’s own strength, and it would drain their resources faster.
But Liosse would be an asset. More soldiers still able to fight would be useful come the moment to escape the Cauldron.
Christina made her presence known, watching keenly the old woman opposite them.
‘A day for wonders,’ the ghost said. ‘You never said you knew this one. I’d love some stories when we get the time.’
“We need to run,” Tallah said. “We can’t remain here and fight.”
She sipped her tea as she waited for Liosse’s answer. Ears around them pricked, and people quieted down. It brought to mind the desperate spiders of Grefe, and the weight of their hopes resting on her. Well, it had been Sil then, but the feeling was quite similar here.
“Why?” Liosse asked, dropping her jovial mask.
Tallah looked about, wondering if she’d cause a panic with what she’d seen.
‘They’ve been at death’s door for too long to panic,’ Christina said. ‘We’ve little time before dark. Best we get on with things.’
“The crater’s full of monsters,” Tallah began. “More than usual. I believe this isn’t a siege. There is something else happening than what we’ve always known of this place.”
Liosse scoffed. “Ye came all this way to tell me something I could’ve guessed on me own and drunk off me arse? The place is in shambles. Daemons scream in the lower city. They claw at the gates.” She banged a fist on the table. “I want to run, girl. But where? How? And, most of all, why? We die just as well here as we die out in the Cauldron.”
That surprised Tallah. She choked on the tea. “I came here to help you win back your walls. Didn’t expect you so ready to leave them behind. You’ve grown more reasonable than Vilfor.”
“Fighting’s fun and all, but not when there ain’t a way to survive and tell the tale. We ain’t winning here. If I had a way to cross the blasted Cauldron, I’d be out of here yesterday.”
Tallah reached under her shirt and pulled out the bundle wrapped in cloth. The room exploded in sapphire light. Heads turned and voices quieted to murmuring.
“I have the way out. Best we do what we need to do before nightfall, else we’ll have some trouble to deal with.”
“And after?” Liosse asked, not taking her eyes off the shard. “We go to the Rock. We die there. What then?”
Tallah shook her head. “We’re done dying. We’re running. Once we regroup, we’ll go over the ravine and out.”
“Vilfor’s young, but he ain’t stupid. I expect he’s blocked the pass.”
“I can clear the way,” Tallah said. “What I can’t do is handle what’s at the crater now, or what they’re building towards.”
Liosse nodded as Tallah stowed the shard away. “You’ve been at the crater then?” A dangerous note entered the old woman’s voice. Distrust. Some anger.
“I’m not with the traitors, if that’s what you’re driving at,” Tallah said, feeling her anger rising. Granted, in theory, she was an empire traitor and Liosse would know that. But here there was no empire and no empress to hate, only people that needed help. “I had a chance to see. I saw. And believe me when I say you’re better off not knowing what’s happening there. Everything that’s come your way so far has been but a taste of worse.”
“How do I know you’re not with the others? Two of ours turned traitor that day. Killed the rest. Savetha, the pyromancer, and Lille, the metal mind.” Liosse’s eye narrowed as she stared Tallah down. “Both served here time and again. Drank and broke bread with me, time and again. Still, they turned.”
The overly large cat let out a hissing growl. It was quite obvious the old warrior could have her axe out before Tallah moved a muscle.
‘I can see who’s taught you your paranoia,’ Christina japed.
It was well-founded paranoia. In Liosse’s place, Tallah was rather certain she would’ve attacked first and questioned never.
“I can’t prove it to you unless you come with me. I wouldn’t have risked what I did just to trick you.” She ignited a small flame sprite and spun it around her gloved fingers. “I could’ve just rained fire from above if I’d wanted you dead.”
“You’re a fugitive from the empire. Catharina had a blank bounty on your head. Why are you here? And why are you helping?”
Tallah told her. Not all of it, of course, but enough of how she’d come to be at the Cauldron and stuck with them all.
“As for why I’m a fugitive, Catharina’s killed Rhine. Blood demands blood,” she finished, aware she’d grown hot and gripped the mug ready to shatter it.
Liosse had been a teacher to her, once upon a time. She had taught Tallah how to defend herself in a physical scrap and laid down the foundation on which Tummy had built later. Tallah and Liosse had fought daemons of all shapes and sizes, cut down more than they could count, and had drank together.
Had things not gone as they had, she would’ve wanted Rhine to come and live at the Anvil, under Liosse’s watchful eye and protection.
She trusted the old woman with much more of the truth than she had Vilfor. For her part, Liosse listened and stroked the cat’s head. It purred contently. People milled about, tried to listen in but were shooed away by an one-eyed glare more terrifying than the beastmen.
Liosse questioned nothing. She only listened. At the end, she nodded.
“You’re either lying through your teeth—and you never could lie to save your arse—or we need to move now.”
“A bell ago would’ve been even better,” Tallah countered. “Get your people aligned and we—”
A horn blared outside, its call long and deep. Liosse jumped to her feet. Tallah too.
“Is it night already?” she asked, looking about for even a window to confirm the time of day.
‘It is not,’ Bianca said. ‘We still should have two bells to dusk.’
And yet there the horn sounded, coming as if from a league away. Liosse ran out of the room and Tallah followed. An attack in day time could only mean daywalkers. Those that would form up to attack were nasty creatures, different form the kitties and their threat. She only knew of several monstrosities that would risk the sunlight, and none of those was pleasant to fight.
The horn blasted again as they raced outside. Its tone had changed. It cut off. Restarted. There was a pattern to it that Tallah tried to decipher. Something newly put in place.
When they burst out into sunlight, a wall of flames met them. Fire rained from the sky. The palisade of impaled daemons burned, the creature still alive screaming in horrifying tongues as their flesh cooked. The air was choked with ash and smoke.
A shrill whistle sounded off an alarm code. Tallah understood this one immediately and she shot up into the air, letting Liosse handle organising the scattered men.
‘That call means what?’ Christina asked.
Magic attack. Channellers.
‘Wouldn’t that be a lovely surprise?’ Christina beamed. ‘I welcome any twist of fate where our quarry comes to rest straight in our lap for once.’
Tallah wasn’t sharing the same enthusiasm. Bianca had her climbing the wall at speed, straight up among the rain of fire. The flame orbs had an arc to them, as if they were being flung from somewhere outside, to crash down against the defenders. She snapped her fingers and was wreathed in fireflies. Another snap sent them all away to intercept some of the attacks, fireballs exploding harmlessly into the sky. She donned the Ikosmenia and could finally see the lines of illum that signalled the attack.
A channeller’s weave definitely. She exploded more of the orbs, casting them aside from hitting the walkways where the soldiers cringed. I feel they’ve something to share with me.
‘Would we were so lucky,’ Christina answered. She was already weaving. ‘An excellent opportunity to test more of our arsenal, wouldn’t you agree?’
Tallah grunted as her feet crested the highest spot atop the wall. The sun was on its way down, turning the sky a bright orange. Shadows lengthened across the Cauldron.
In the long shade of the mountains, weapons, fangs and claws glinted. Wisps of smoke and ash still hung in the air down among the flies, barely dispersed. No wind blew to meet the evening.
At the head of an army of dark shapes, three figures stood in a line on the ground. These were human. Tallah could see their outlines clearly in the illum flow.
‘Our colleagues reveal themselves,’ Christina said.
‘I’d like to throw a rock at them,’ Bianca added. ‘Just to show my appreciation for all they’ve inflicted here.’
“You’ll both get your chance to match up to them.” Tallah ignited her lances. They cracked with saved-up power. “Does this seem to you like an attack meant to succeed?”
‘It does not,’ Christina agreed. ‘I would venture to say they wanted you out here.’
“Probably. Else why embarrass themselves?”
Down below another line of fire orbs was woven and sent up into the sky at an angle, the weave flowing off the figure in the centre. That was the pyromancer then.
What would the others be? One of the channellers was probably a metal mind, though if they served here, Catharina wouldn’t think much of them.
“Christi.” Tallah watched the flames climb high into the sky, then change direction to rush at her. “That pyromancer dies first. Enjoy yourself.”
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