Stuck in Magic 28

Chapter Twenty-Eight

I covered my eyes, hastily, as the ground shook violently, great clouds of dust and smoke rising up from the walls.  It was glorious!  The magically-reinforced walls were warped and twisted, great chunks of stone crashing to the ground despite the spells woven into the building.  The blast had clearly reached further into the castle than I’d expected … I snickered as I realised the enemy wards had actually deflected the blast deeper into the castle, rather than redirect the force back at us.  They really hadn’t expected such an attack, I decided.  The idea of undermining a castle’s walls wasn’t new, but cramming gunpowder into the mine and detonating it under the walls was.

“Musketmen, sweep the walls,” I barked.  The enemy soldiers were stunned.  We had to take them at a run, before it was too late.  “Cannoneers, target the inner keep!”

I nodded to Rupert as the cannons started firing again.  A handful aimed canister shot into the shattered walls, hoping to kill anyone who’d survived the blast, while the remainder directed cannonballs into the inner building.  I was unsure if they were as heavily warded as the outer wards, but it didn’t matter.  We’d breached the walls.  A smart enemy would be trying to surrender now, to get the white flag into the air before we plunged through the walls and into the keep.  If they refused to surrender, we would be quite within our rights to kill everyone inside the building without even trying to take them prisoner.

They’ve nowhere to go, I thought, as I rallied my skirmishers.  All they can do now is hurt us as much as possible before we kill them all.

I raised my hand, feeling the air shake as my troops braced themselves.  They looked eager to get to grips with the enemy … that wouldn’t last, I was sure.  House-to-house combat was never fun, even if you had body armour and microscopic drones and all the other toys that had been tried and tested in the Middle East.  Urban warfare cut the advantages of modern technology down to almost nothing … I told myself not to be so pessimistic.  The enemy didn’t have AK-47s or IEDs or anything along those lines either.

“Follow me,” I shouted.  It was hardly professional, but I didn’t give a damn.  “Charge!”

The men cheered as I led them towards the smoking remnants of the mine, musket balls cracking over our heads as the musketmen sought to cover us.  My ears ached as I plunged through the crater, then scrambled up the far side and into the castle, eyes sweeping from side to side for potential threats.  It looked like the building had been torn right open by the blast; walls scorched and battered, doors lying on the floor in ruins.  I led my men onwards, directing half of them to seize the upper levels while the remainder held upon the breach to allow more and more invaders to enter the castle.  If the defenders weren’t going to surrender, they’d have to muster a counterattack before we solidified our foothold and started to take the rest of the castle.

I led the way down the corridor and stepped into a mini-courtyard, looking as if someone had screwed up the plans when the castle had been put together.  There was hardly any space for anything, as far as I could tell.  I heard a shout a moment later and saw men boiling out of the far door, urged on by someone remaining safely at the rear.  I raised my pistol and shot him, then barked orders to my men as the attackers started to slow in confusion.  My men opened fire a second later, musket and flintlock balls tearing though the attackers and sending them crashing to the ground.  Another man appeared, waving his hand to snatch a fireball out of nowhere and hurl it at me.  I blinked at it, stunned, then ducked sharply as it shot over my head and crashed into a far wall.  An instant later, another fireball burned his head to a crisp.

I looked back.  Fallon was standing there, looking pleased with herself.  My lips moved soundlessly.  I hadn’t expected her to follow me.  She really shouldn’t have followed me.  And yet, she’d saved my life.  If she could do that … I nodded to her – this was neither the time nor the place for an argument – then started barking orders again as reinforcements kept flowing into the castle.  We needed to push onwards before the defenders started to rally again.

“Surrender,” I bellowed.  My parade ground voice was loud, but practically lost amidst the din of battle.  “Surrender and your lives will be spared!”

I heard some angry muttering behind me.  I ignored it.  I didn’t particularly want to sack the castle.  I certainly didn’t want my men to get into bad habits by raping and slaughtering what remained of the castle’s population.  If they were prepared to surrender, I’d accept it instead of forcing them to fight to the last.  The warlord himself shouldn’t live past the fighting – my ancestors had had no shortage of problems when the old ruling caste hadn’t been uprooted and destroyed – but there were innocents in his castle.  Even his men were only following orders.  Here, it excused everything.

We charged across the courtyard and crashed into the next building.  A man stepped out of the darkness and swung a blade at me.  I darted back, wishing I’d spent more time on my swordsmanship, then shot him through the head.  I should have brought an axe instead, something I could use without spending weeks in training … I put the thought out of my head as more and more men blocked our way, forcing us to clear them out with musket balls, swords and makeshift grenades.  It was damn lucky, I reflected as we pushed onwards, that the warlord had frittered away most of his time.  The castle was hard enough to take, even though we’d broken the walls.  If he’d taken the task seriously, we might have been in real trouble.

Darkness fell as we pushed our way further into the castle, crying out for them to see sense and surrender.  I gritted my teeth, directing my men to light torches even though it posed a very real risk of giving away our positions.  The fighting was growing increasingly chaotic, I knew; I was losing control, if I’d ever really had it.  We crashed into a small hall and encountered a bunch of terrified servants, men and women who stared at us in fear.  I detailed a handful of men to escort most of the servants out of the castle, back to our lines.  The remaining two looked … reasonable.

I met their eyes.  “Where is Aldred?”

They stared at me, caught between fear of us – the invaders – and their masters.  I reached into my pouch and produced a handful of gold coins, holding them out to them.  Someone gasped behind me.  It was more gold than they’d seen in their entire lives, I was sure.  They had to be wondering if I’d take their answers and simply slit their throats, rather than actually keeping my side of the deal.  And yet … there was enough money, resting in my palm, to let them start a new life somewhere well away from their former master.

“He’s in the throne room,” one of the servants stammered.  “I … I can take you there.”

“Good.”  I passed him the coins, ignoring the other servant’s sputtered protests.  He’d had his chance.  “Lead on.  And no detours along the way.”

The servant nodded and led us down the corridor, then pushed a tapestry aside to reveal a hidden door.  I clutched my sword tightly in one hand as we stepped into a darkened passageway, all too aware we could be walking straight into a trap.  The servant passageway – I’d seen them in Rupert’s mansion – was just too narrow for us to walk in anything other than single file.  I promised myself I’d bury my sword in the servant’s back, if it turned out he was trying to con us.  He wouldn’t get away with it.

I felt the air shifting, slightly, as more cannonballs crashed into the keep.  It was hard to believe, despite the noise, that we weren’t alone within the castle, that we weren’t trapped within a confined space.  I’d never been claustrophobic, but it was still a relief when we reached the upper floor.  The servant stopped beside a heavy wooden door and tried to open it.  It didn’t budge.  The bolts on the far side, I realised after a quick inspection, had been firmly shoved into place.

The servant started to stammer.  “Sir, I …”

“It’s quite all right,” I assured him.  I would have been more concerned if the hidden door hadn’t been bolted.  “What’s on the far side?”

“His lordship’s bedroom,” the servant said.  “He … ah … uses the tunnels to see his mistresses.”

Mistresses, I thought.  How many does he have?

“Tell me about the layout,” I said, keeping my voice hushed.  The walls were thick, but there was no guarantee we couldn’t be overheard.  “What’s on the far side.”

I listened, then nodded to Fallon.  “Open this door.”

Fallon pointed a finger at the door.  I felt my ears pop, an instant before an invisible force crashed into the wood and blasted it open.  I would have preferred something a little more subtle – the noise had been loud enough to be heard for quite some distance – but beggars can’t be choosers.  I jumped through the wrecked door, looking around for possible threats.  The chamber was incredibly gaudy, gold and purple everywhere.  Purple was the royal colour, if I recalled correctly.  Having so much of it here was a clear sign the warlord had his eye on the throne, as well as absolutely no taste whatsoever.  I’d have been embarrassed to rest my head on his bed.  I was pretty sure he didn’t have anyone willing and able to tell him his room looked dreadful.

He’s a warlord with a habit of chopping off heads, I thought, as another round of cannonballs crashed into the walls.  No one is going to say anything even mildly critical to him if they can help it.

I glanced at the men, then led them forward into the next room.  A maid stared at us, her eyes uncomprehending, then dropped to the ground in a faint.  I had the feeling she was faking it, but I didn’t have time to check.  Instead, we hurried over her body and straight onto the next room.  Warlord Aldred sat on a golden throne, every inch a pretender to the real throne; a handful of men in fancy uniforms were pressed against the far wall.  The warlord’s presence pervaded the chamber.  I was sure he would have made a bid for the kingship if he’d thought he’d get away with it.

He stood, drawing his sword.  I studied him thoughtfully.  His paintings weren’t particularly accurate, I noted; he was neither fashionably thin or so fat he might as well be a danger to shipping.  His body was thick, but most of it looked to be muscle.  He carried his sword as if he knew what to do with it.  I was pretty sure he did.  Rupert had been taught how to use a sword from birth and his birthplace was reasonably civilised.  Aldred had grown up knowing that anyone, even his nearest and dearest, could become an enemy at the drop of a hat.

It isn’t an excuse, I told myself, firmly.  I could understand why everyone from Hitler and Stalin to Saddam and Castro had done the horrible things they’d done, but understanding didn’t bring forgiveness.  Quite the opposite.  And even if was, there would still have to be a reckoning.

The castle shook again.  The space between volleys was growing longer.  I’d told the cannoneers not to shoot off all their powder and balls, just in case we needed to make a fighting retreat to Barrow or Furness.  And yet … I shook my head.  The battle was over.  It had been over from the moment we’d broken the walls.  They should have surrendered.  Right now, there weren’t many people left to surrender.

I met the warlord’s eyes, trying not to wince.  This was not a man who accepted, even for a moment, the possibility of defeat.  This was not a man who’d surrender, no matter how much he told himself it was just for tactical advantage.  He wouldn’t so much as pretend to give up, although it would save hundreds of lives.  He had a wife and a family and if the fighting continued, they’d be killed.  Or worse.

“The battle is over,” I said.  I doubted it would make any impact at all, but I owed it to myself to try.  The warlord was doomed.  The shattered castle was clear proof his power had been broken beyond repair.  “If you surrender, you will be treated well.”

He snarled and raised his sword.  I saw his point.  No one was going to ransom him.  His former subordinates would sell out for the best terms they could get, while the remainder of the warlords carved up his territory between them … they’d wage war on us, I was sure, but it would be too late to save Aldred from defeat and destruction.  The best he could hope for was his family being allowed to go into exile, but it wasn’t likely to happen.  His former peers wouldn’t want his son to grow up into a future thorn in their side.  They’d probably have the entire family quietly killed.

“I mean it,” I said.  “You can take your money and go into exile and …”

Aldred lunged at me.  He really did know how to use his sword.  I blocked his first swing, more by luck than judgement, but he just kept coming.  I thought I was stronger, although it was hard to be sure.  His blows kept hacking through my defences, my hands aching as he crashed his sword into mine time and time again.  A man of honour, I reflected, would have kept fighting with an unsuitable weapon, even though it meant certain death.  I wasn’t that much of a man of honour.  I pointed the pistol at Aldred – his eyes went wide as he realised I was going to deny him a honourable death – and pulled the trigger.  His body crashed to the floor and lay still.

“It’s done,” I said.  I looked towards the other men.   None of them had moved, perhaps fearing the wrath of the winner if they tried to intervene.  “Surrender now and you get to live.”

They bowed their heads, then went to tell their men to surrender.  I allowed myself a moment of relief, before issuing orders of my own as the fighting died away.  The noble prisoners would be kept in the camp, under heavy guard, while we decided what to do with them; the soldiers and guardsmen would be invited to join our army, unless they were guilty of war crimes and atrocities.  It was going to be a legal headache to sort out.  Back home, there were no excuses for war crimes; here, merely following orders would be enough to get a free pass.

Besides, saying no to the mad dictator back home is a good way to commit suicide, I reflected.  I’d met too many people who thought they could deter war crimes … without realising it was pretty much impossible without a force both able and willing to come down on the perpetrators like a ton of bricks.   And you’d get your family slaughtered as well.

I shrugged – maybe the worst of the worst would make a daring escape before we had to make some decisions about them – and then grinned as Rupert stepped into the room.  He shot a sharp look at Fallon, who winked at him, then turned to me.  I smiled at his expression.  He looked like someone who’d been convinced he was about to lose a rigged game, only to come up trumps after all.  I understood.  If we’d lost the battle, it would have been wise for the pair of us to loot the war chest and start running.  We certainly wouldn’t have been welcome back home.

The thought surprised me.  When did Damansara become home?

“We won.”  Rupert looked at the throne and the body, perhaps making sure it really was Aldred, then sat on the floor.  “What now?”

I looked through the window.  The castle was effectively ruined.  It would take weeks, if not months, for it to be repaired.  I figured we could turn it into a garrison, if we wanted to expend the time and effort, or simply tear down the remnants and leave it as nothing more than a pile of rubble.  It wasn’t as if Kuat was still impregnable.  We’d proven it wasn’t, beyond a shadow of a doubt.

“Now?”  I shrugged.  “We finish liberating the rest of the slaves, chase their former masters into exile if they don’t want to fight and be killed, then scatter garrisons throughout the lands as we raise troops for the next war.  We won.  It’s over.”

“And start arguing over who gets what,” Rupert predicted.  “They’ll already be dividing the lands up, back home.”

“As long as they remember the serfs aren’t serfs any longer,” I said.  I was pretty sure the serfs were arming themselves with everything within reach.  They couldn’t expect mercy if they fell back into enemy hands.  “They won’t agree to put down their guns and trade one set of masters for another.”

Fallon pulled her chat parchment from her pocket and frowned.  “My Lord, we just got orders to remain in Barrow and wait for Princess Helen.”

Rupert and I looked at each other.  A moment later, we started to laugh.