A Backwater Rebellion: Part Fourteen

(On Saturdays I post my prose, including fiction and essays. For the past several weeks I’ve been serializing my story “A Backwater Rebellion”; this is its last segment. If you haven’t already, please start at the beginning or read the previous part.)

There! Rhinseth said. She placed the final stroke in the working, and the wheel in Portia’s mind stopped turning. An almost physical force snapped past her into the dragon, and it stumbled, if that were possible in the air, and plummeted a few yards before it regained clumsy flight. It tried to breathe at her again, but only flickers came out. The dragon turned back the way it came and awkwardly, almost painfully, limped back toward the far horizon.

Portia let herself relax in the saddle, and Rhinseth dove for the ground almost lazily.

 

An explosion rocked the ground, and something threw the enemy soldiers down. The bugler began ‘Taps,’ and when they could regain their footing the enemy soldiers began hoisting their helmets on sword-hilts in token of surrender.

Out of the bright sky, on her companion’s back, came Portia, and the city’s armies cheered at her triumph.

 

“This won’t last, you know,” Portia said to Thomas. “He’ll be back. In another form, probably, since I showed I could beat him here, but he’ll be back.”

“What are you going to do?” Aaron asked.

“I’ve already asked for Imperial troops, and I’ll get them,” she replied. “This universe has lain under subjugation for too long. We will — or rather you will, with our help — reduce Evil’s stranglehold here and restore order.”

“Or die in the attempt?” Thomas said, voicing what he must have thought she meant.

“It’s been tried. His Majesty has been doing this for centuries, and he hasn’t lost yet, even though his odds in the first war were considered nearly impossible,” Aaron put in

“When do we march?” Thomas said eagerly, leaning across the table.

THE END

A Backwater Rebellion: Part Thirteen

(On Saturdays I post my prose, whether essays or fiction; at present a rather short story I wrote several years ago in small pieces. If you haven’t read the previous parts—you can start at the beginning or go back to part twelve—this isn’t likely to make much sense. This is my second experiment in serialization; the story I serialized here before this one was already divided into chapters, while here I’m breaking wherever it seems sensible to do so. This story will conclude in the next part.)

At last there was an end. The horizon was clear. By some miracle the knights, down at least ten, and the cavalry, with twice that number fallen, had broken through the entire enemy army and were clearing the field of the enemy archers. When they were dealt with, Aaron ordered the pikes out again. He saw no enemy officers on the field, but the enemy foot soldiers still fought on.

At a lull in the noise in the battle, he looked up. The dragon and his mistress were too high to see, but the sky was a mess of dark and light.

A trumpet rang out on the field below. It took Aaron a moment to realize what the call was, and then he saw it. The line of infantry broke. “Sound ‘retreat,’” he ordered, and they ran for the horses and galloped back into the city. The pikes followed, again in order, and took up a position in the recess before the gate. The enemy army boiled up against the walls, leaning ladders that seemed to appear from nowhere up against the vertical faces. The sheer weight of bodies kept the infantrymen on the walls from pushing the ladders back, and the enemies crawled up the ladders.

The battle was moving much too quickly; this hadn’t been in any of his classes on tactics! Aaron’s emotions ripped out of his control for a moment, and then he fought them down and buckled them under his reason. The enemies on the ladders reached the top, took strokes from Aaron’s men, and fell backward, but there were too many. His men began to be pushed back, and soon they were on the defensive.

A bright light surged from the sky.

To be concluded …

A Backwater Rebellion: Part Twelve

(On Saturdays I post my prose, whether essays or fiction; at present a rather short story I wrote several years ago in small pieces. If you haven’t read the previous parts—you can start at the beginning or go back to part eleven—this isn’t likely to make much sense. This is my second experiment in serialization; the story I serialized here before this one was already divided into chapters, while here I’m breaking wherever it seems sensible to do so. This is probably the third-to-last part of this story.)

It was several tense minutes before the lines finally met. Aaron’s army, only five ranks thick, buckled, held for what must have been a minute, then buckled again. A sudden volley of arrows from the walls drove the enemies back, and Aaron said, “Have them regroup.” The bugler blew his orders, and the ragtag army formed back up. “Shield wall.” The men locked their shields and stood waiting.

The enemy charged again. This time Aaron’s infantry turned their advance back like waves from a twig in a brook, and the enemy like the waves came crashing down again and again.

“Pikes out, and archers clear a space for them to form up,” Aaron said. The mage clapped his hands and the bugler blew his horn, and the gate opened for the pikemen to march out. They lowered their pikes and advanced into the enemy line.

A titanic crash from overhead echoed over the battlefield. The enemy soldiers looked up despite themselves, and their officers lashed out at them with whips and the flats of their swords, cursing. The pikemen worked their way through the enemy army like an auger through rock, but still the dark force came on from the horizon.

Arrows began to fly from the most distant enemies. “Pikes back,” Aaron ordered. They retreated at twice the speed at which they had advanced, but they withdrew in fighting order. “Knights and cavalry out.” Before the gate could close, the mounted warriors galloped out the gate and slammed like a hammer into the disorganized mass of enemies moving toward the open gate. Once those were dealt with and the gate down, they rode quickly into the gap left by the pikemen, but their movement was soon slowed.

“Keep moving!” Aaron shouted. One of the knights somehow heard him and saluted. The horsemen laid out with blades, hammers, and even the butts of lances to keep their path clear.

To be continued in part thirteen …

A Backwater Rebellion: Part Eleven

(On Saturdays I post my prose, whether essays or fiction; at present a rather short story I wrote several years ago in small pieces. If you haven’t read the previous parts—you can start at the beginning or go back to part ten—this isn’t likely to make much sense. This is my second experiment in serialization; the story I serialized here before this one was already divided into chapters, while here I’m breaking wherever it seems sensible to do so.)

Aaron watched his mistress and her companion rise out of sight. Beside him stood his own companion Rattelan, the chief mage Thomas, and a bugler, as well as a standard-bearer.

“Tell the battery to fire in volleys but at will, and remind everyone to aim for the officers,” he said to Thomas.

“Why the officers, sir?” Thomas said.

“They have risen in Evil’s service, and the ordinary soldiers probably have been pressed and would join us if we removed their officers,” he replied. Thomas nodded and closed his eyes to relay the message.

With a boom of leather against wood and leather, the trebuchets in the battery launched their stone balls skyward. Ten seconds later, the catapults’ arms went up with a crack of wood on wood and sent their payloads of stone forward. The ballistas immediately followed suit with their arrows. Aaron looked out toward the enemy army and saw every projectile hit simultaneously. The enemy front line shuddered, and a block of men fell, but the line held. Step. Step. The advance seemed inexorable. As each volley shook the enemy army, it lost more than a few men, but the black mass always moved forward. As soon as the front line was within range, arrows fell like rain from the towers above Aaron, but they made scarcely a dent. What seemed like an eternity passed, and then the first men on horses came into view in the enemy army. Aaron’s archers and siege engineers immediately targeted them, and one by one they fell, but the endless march continued.

“Have the infantry outside the walls form up,” Aaron said curtly. The bugler sounded his instrument, and the men of the city outside the walls moved into ranks. Too close to the horses, he thought.

“Have them move forward slightly.” The bugler blew ‘Advance’ and then ‘Halt.’

To be continued in part twelve …

A Backwater Rebellion: Part Ten

This is the tenth part of a short story. If you haven’t already, please start at the beginning or read part nine.

The task at hand, Rhinseth reminded her.

Be still, another voice said in her mind, echoing through.

In her mind, Portia quieted herself before her Maker and listened.

Out of the silence came a heavenly sound, as like to music as a building to its blueprint.

Half eternity away, she Saw a man on Mount Carmel at the time of evening sacrifice.

Come near unto me, the echoing voice said.

“Lord God of Abraham, Isaac, and of Israel,” she said with the man on Carmel, “this day let it be known that thou art God, and that I am thy servant, and that I have done all these things at thy word.”

Something clicked in her mind. The wheel was complete, and turning. The two halves of her mind reunited.

At last I am complete! Rhinseth said with joy. With the wheel of Portia, her companion, and her Lord, Rhinseth spun of the flowing power and wove a working stretching off in all directions.
Portia took from her pack a war hammer. “Fly near him,” she whispered to Rhinseth. The winged horse circled inward, at last coming alongside the dragon from behind and the right. Portia brought her hammer back and pounded it into the dragon’s side as hard as she could from that angle. Her arm went numb, and she nearly dropped her weapon. Rhinseth spiraled away as the dragon turned. Again Rhinseth came from behind, this time from above, and Portia hit one of the dragon’s ears. “That angle was worse, heart,” she whispered. The third time, Rhinseth came from below. Portia gripped the hammer with both hands and swung with all her strength. The hammer shattered and fell, but the dragon’s armor cracked. Portia’s whole body felt numb.

Nearly done, Rhinseth said. The working only needs a few final
modules.

You can go on to part eleven …

A Backwater Rebellion: Part Nine

(For anyone just joining me, on Saturdays I post prose, whether essays or fiction. At present I’m posting a rather short story I wrote several years ago in small pieces; I’d recommend going back and reading the previous parts&mdashyou can start at the beginning or go back to the previous part—or this isn’t likely to make much sense. This is my second experiment in serialization; the story I serialized here before this one was already divided into chapters, while here I’m breaking wherever it seems sensible to do so.)

How much can I do? Rhinseth asked as she pumped her wings to gain altitude.

“Anything. I can’t do much Power from the saddle, but I’ve been trained to fight in the air,” Portia replied.

I’ll handle the Power, but it would be better if you aim it, Rhinseth said, leveling off.

A spurt of flame raced through where they had been scarce moments ago. Rhinseth turned as tightly as she could in the air to face this new threat. Portia pulled a javelin free from her saddle and hefted it.

“Shielding, then minor offense,” she said. She saw what seemed like two parts of a wheel come together in the back of her mind.

Something’s missing, Rhinseth said. A third piece of the wheel was not there.

“Can you still shield us?”

Yes. The wheel, incomplete as it was, turned once, and Portia breathed a sigh of relief and looked to see what her enemy was.

It was a black dragon, much larger than Tadic, with its ebony scales gleaming. Portia threw the javelin, which bounced harmlessly off the dragon’s burnished hide and fell.

You’ll have to find the missing piece, Rhinseth said.

There was a painful wrench in the back of her mind, and she seemed to split. She saw one half of her mind calmly order bursts of icy wind at the dragon, while she looked on.

The task at hand, Rhinseth reminded her.

To be continued in part ten…

A Backwater Rebellion: Part Eight

(For anyone just joining me, on Saturdays I post prose, whether essays or fiction. At present I’m posting a rather short story I wrote several years ago in small pieces; I’d recommend going back and reading the previous parts—you can start at the beginning or go back to the previous part—or this isn’t likely to make much sense. This is my second experiment in serialization; the story I serialized here before this one was already divided into chapters, while here I’m breaking wherever it seems sensible to do so.)

Two hours later, the sun was nearing the horizon. The towers were up, everything was in place, and the only thing left for Portia to do was wait.

“Messengers to the villages?” she asked.

“Sent,” Aaron said. “We might get a reply, but we can’t expect any help before tomorrow.”

“Recite the count of your army,” she said. He made a face. “This is your first command, and as your knight-mistress I am duty-bound to make sure you don’t flub it. That’s beside the fact that my life is riding on it, and Father will be very annoyed if I get myself killed.”

“Knights, heavily armed and armored — five companies, held for a sortie. I had to remind a few that swords have points for a reason,” he said with a touch of exasperation. “Cavalry, lightly armored — seven companies, held likewise. Mounted infantry — three companies, massed outside, if that’s possible in such small numbers, and held ready to return if the battle there goes ill. Infantry — twelve companies, half on the walls, the other half held for whatever I deem necessary. Pikes — three companies, held for my orders. Archers — ten companies, on the walls and in the towers. Mages — nine companies, where they will. Siege engines — eleven, five in the towers and six in a battery elevated just above the wall within the city.”

“Did you remember to post mages with the siege engines?”

“‘Instruct your aged ancestress,’ mistress mine. I posted mages with nearly everyone, for communication if nothing else.”

A low horn call, more like a bellow than music, sounded in the distance. Half a minute later, Thomas, breathless, was at Portia’s elbow.

“We have seen a black dragon over the enemy army on the horizon,” he said.

“Sound the alarm,” Aaron said. Portia ran to where she had left Rhinseth. She swung herself into the saddle, and Rhinseth took off.

You can go on to part nine …

A Backwater Rebellion: Part Seven

This is the seventh part of a short story. If you haven’t already, please start at the beginning or read the previous part.

The most elaborately dressed man in the circle stepped forward. “From where come you?” he said slowly. “And to what purpose come you here?”

“I am a knight of the Empire,” Portia said in her best parade-ground tone, bringing her shield down flashing in the sun, “and I bring the warning that an Evil army will attack this city within the day. A local mage requested Imperial assistance, so His Majesty sent me here.”

“Not with these steeds,” the man said, “and where came you by this news?”

“The mage that summoned us is a dragon on yonder mountain. He gave us our initial briefing. Also on that mountain Rhinseth chose me,” Portia said.

“I doubt your word,” a woman behind Portia said.

“I would not say that again if I were you,” Aaron said. “My mistress is a mage and high in the Master’s service, and as a knight of the Empire her word has been proven good.”

“I doubt –” the woman said again. Thunder rolled in the blue sky, and she fell silent.

“We are the only ones in the Master’s service here,” the man said, “and none here is well trained in the art of war. What then must we do?” Aaron looked to Portia, who nodded.

“What sort of defenses does the city have?” Aaron said. “First your name.”

“Thomas,” the man said. “We have the wall, a few towers inside the city — which we will have to raise — and a few siege engines.”

“How long will raising the towers take?” Aaron asked.

“An hour or so,” Thomas said. “The ones in the city are about seven stories tall, so we keep them lowered to the height of other buildings. There are also more standard towers in the wall, and the city has a militia and a small navy.”

“A pity it takes so long to raise them,” Aaron said. “They’ll be enough of an advantage that we can’t afford to have them lowered, but it would have been nice to have our enemy unprepared when he comes to our gate. Raise them, place the siege engines where they can do the most good, and muster the militia. Ah — do you have ghadish?” The word was the closest anyone had come to ‘gunpowder’ in the language of the Power. Thomas shook his head.

“No. I don’t even know what that means, though it must be some kind of explosive. We have tacaren, though.” That was Greek fire. “I’ll have an indirection working laid on the towers, so that no one can look at them directly.”

“An excellent idea,” Aaron said.

“If you’ll give me an exact description of your technological level,” Portia said, “I’ll send it home. We’ll have an Imperial army to back us up as soon as possible, but that can’t be until this battle is over.”

You can go on to part eight …

A Backwater Rebellion: Part Six

This is the sixth part of a short story. If you haven’t already, please start at the beginning or read the previous part.

The two winged horses dropped out of the sky over the city. They circled lower, almost lazily, until Portia spotted a large courtyard on the side of the city farthest from the sea.

“That will do nicely,” she said. Rhinseth folded her wings and dropped. Rattelan, Aaron’s companion, dove quickly after. Halfway to the ground, Rhinseth opened her wings again and slowed to a more reasonable rate of descent, landing on the wet grass noiselessly. Half a minute later, Aaron, on Rattelan’s back, landed beside Portia. The two humans dismounted and let their companions rest for a moment, and then Portia said, “Call.” Aaron took a horn from his saddlebag and sounded it. The sound rang loud, clear, long, and sharp in the late morning air. The martial tone hung for what seemed like an eternity, and then, in all the walls bordering the courtyard, windows and doors flew open. Aaron shifted the horn on his lips, and the sound lifted up again. As his breath expired, he let his hand fall to his side.

“Anything more?” he asked.

“Reveille. That’ll rouse them, I’m sure,” she said. He lifted the horn to his lips again, but before he could sound it, a drum somewhere began a soft, slow tattoo. Portia waved Aaron to silence and listened. Another drum joined in a steady quiet roll, and then a fife’s piping soared above the beat. A gate toward the sea and the center of the city opened, and a double column of men and women in robelike uniforms marched in toward Portia and Aaron. At each column’s head was a drummer followed by a man with a fife. Portia checked her sword and shield, but otherwise remained still. Rhinseth shifted uneasily on her hooves. Aaron’s face remained passive.

Ten yards in front of Portia and Aaron, the columns split. They circled the little group, coming to a sudden halt when they met again.

You can go on to part seven …

A Backwater Rebellion: Part Five

This is the fifth part of a short story; if you haven’t already, please start at the beginning or read the previous part.

“I called for Imperial aid,” the dragon said when she reached him. Rhinseth appeared again at her side. “There were once many of the Master’s servants here. The enemies of the Light have become entrenched and have destroyed them all. I am the only one left, and now they are trying to kill me too. I was hoping for a little more aid than this.”

“That sounds very similar to the speech of Elijah the servant of the Lord on Mount Horeb,” Aaron said.

“My mandate here is to decide what kind of aid is needed, and to do what I can,” Portia said. “Tell me the need and review our Lord’s answer to Elijah.”

“You saw the first two walls. Each wall marks an increase in the level and strength of evil, and of evil’s armies. In the days of our strength, we breached the eighth wall and saw the ninth wall beyond it, once and once only. Evil armies have begun to mass within the first wall, and I have Seen their march forth within the day. The last city of men that serves the Master lies below us on the coast of the Endless Sea, but they would not listen to me.”

“What must be done?” Aaron asked.

“Since Imperial armies cannot come this day, you must muster the city.”

“Let us transfer our saddlebags and send our horses home first,” Portia said.

You can go on to part six …