Chapter XXIX

Yashen loosed arrow after arrow on the enemy soldiers below. Each time the cavalry came by she and the archers nearest her ducked behind the battlements. Once the crossbow bolts passed over them, they immediately resumed their volley, slaying the heretics and blasphemers before more of them could reach the siege towers.

Her heart leaped as just after she loosed an arrow she opened her left eye again and saw a man with two daggers rushing her. She scrambled for another arrow, but fear had taken over. This sin would be her end. The one sin she'd not truly overcome would cost her life.

As the killer reached for her she cringed and closed her eyes. A slash. Followed by a groan. Was she not dead? Yashen opened her eyes again as Kezib kicked the killer's body off the edge of the wall.

No time to exchange words. Yashen gave Kezib a thankful nod and then turned her attention back to the battle ahead. More and more soldiers gathered in front of the walls. A dome of iron shields covered a wooden battering ram as it struck the gate over and over.

Perfect. They'd walked right into her trap.

Yashen turned her attention to the witch-hunters waiting at the base of the stairs. “Bottles! NOW!” she shouted.

The witch-hunters at the base of the stairs ran to the battlements with their black bottles in hand. With a good, hard chuck, each of them hailed glass onto the enemies below. When the glass broke a black mist rose into the air and crept through the enemy ranks. The soldiers who inhaled the mist coughed, stumbled for a few moments, and then fell face-first onto the ground. After the first few fell, more and more of the enemy soldiers tripped over their compatriots.

Yashen smiled at the scene. Sleeping enemy soldiers would be all too easy to pick off. The volley of arrows continued, and those lying on the ground could not avoid the reaper's scythe falling upon them. Lord Kenaz's soldiers stepped on their fallen comrades. Even those not affected by the mist fell over their own allies.

“Fall back!” the order resonated through Lord Kenaz's army, and his troops were all too willing to follow it. They fled as if frightened children. Yashen breathed a sigh of relief when they turned their backs.

“Grand Inquisitor!”

The frantic call killed Yashen's relief, and she turned to face the scout who called to her from below the wall. “Speak!”

“On the western side! A fleet of ships under Lord Kenaz's banner!”

“They mean to attack us from both sides!” Yashen scratched her head, trying to think of a solution. “Kezib, stay here and hold the gate. Not a single enemy is to pass over our walls alive, understood?”

“Yes, Grand Inquisitor!”

“You all,” Yashen gestured to several of the witch-hunters on the wall, “Come with me! We'll repel the fleet!”

Yashen and the witch hunters with her dashed down the empty streets of Nox. Children and the elderly watched them pass from within the windows. The young looked upon them with hope, the elders with worry. The elders knew that if the Grand Inquisitor and the witch-hunters were running across the city something had gone wrong.

When Yashen arrived at the western edge of the city and climbed up to the battlements, fully out of breath, she looked out upon the ocean to see the fleet approaching. Hundreds of schooners approached, each full of soldiers in chain-mail armor.

There were shouts from the enemy ships, and the soldiers on board each ship scurried about, as if in preparation for something. Yashen squinted to see if she could figure out what they were up to. A glint of steel in the sunlight. Yashen threw herself onto the floor and shouted, “HEADS DOWN!”

The witch-hunters ducked with her as spears flew from the ships and roared through the air where they had been standing just seconds ago. Some of the spears stuck in the wall. Others flew off into the city and pierced rooftops.

“Leave the children alone!” Yashen muttered, her fists clenched. Calm. She needed to be calm. She couldn't let rage overtake her, or she'd be likely to do something rash.

“Grand Inquisitor, they're out of range for arrows. How do we fight back?” one of the witch hunters asked.

“We conjure angels,” said Yashen. “They can sink the ships, and let the soldiers on board drown in their chains.”

Yashen and the witch hunters with her rolled up their sleeves to reveal the tattoos to their arms. The markings glowed, and diamond dust filled the air around them like a sand-storm. The dust collected into the crystalline bodies of dozens of angels, who immediately dove at the schooners.

Among the soldiers were men in black robes who stood, held their hands out towards the angels, and chanted, “Irae di pater! Irae di pater!” The angels cracked as they approached, but they stayed on course. Their blade-like wings tore through the sails and masts. They bodies broke the hulls and the schooners began to sink. One of the angels shattered and pieces plummeted into the ocean. Two others, in their attempts to avoid the acolytes' spells, crashed into each other.

The soldiers on board the schooners rushed to the lifeboats to row ashore. One of the angels dropped down onto a lifeboat and whipped his wings around to shred all those on board. The one survivor who had ducked just in time soon found that his immediate survival was not so lucky as the angel lifted him by the throat and tossed him into the ocean. The iron chain-mail dragged the soldier under the waves, sure to drown in the dark depths.

In spite of the angels' efforts, most of the lifeboats still reached the shore. The enemy soldiers extended their ladders up to the walls, with hooks to take hold of the battlements. Those not climbing up the ladders loosed arrow after arrow at the witch hunters on the walls to keep them away from their ascending compatriots.

Yashen held up the mark on her arm and shouted, “Shield me!” just before she leaped at the nearest ladder. The archers below loosed a dozen arrows at her, but each arrow was cut short as an angel stepped between the archers and the Grand Inquisitor. Yashen stabbed the first of the soldiers climbing the wall just as he reached the top and kicked him. The soldier's body slid down the ladder. He hit every rung on the way down, and took his comrades down with him. The witch hunters followed Yashen's example and guarded the tops of the ladders. Angels covering their every move.

More soldiers attempted the climb. Yashen cut them down too. She was so distracted with those attempting to climb the walls that she did not look up from them until she heard something ripping through the wind straight at her. A spear from one of the schooners still afloat. Yashen stared down the spear-head, frozen with fear as it hurtled towards her. The angel who'd been protecting her flew into the spear's path and blocked the missile, but the force of the blow knocked the angel back and he crashed into Yashen. Yashen dropped her sword, tripped, and tumbled off of the wall. A free fall. Down to the marble streets below.

. . .

On the other end of the city, Kezib looked on as Lord Kenaz's army broke into a full retreat.

“We've won!” the witch-hunters nearest Kezib shouted with glee.

“They're running away!”

“No,” said Kezib. “It's far from over. They're probably just going to regroup. They'll make camp and resume their attack tomorrow morning. This siege is far from over.”