Chương 31: 30. The Walls of Tavirost

Dozens of men and women spilled out of the gardener's shed, an almost comical effect, like something from a conjurer's act. Tavian directed Braun to lead the force on top of the wall as he waited for the last of his people to emerge from the dungeon. His head throbbed in time with the pulsing in his wound. The cold numbness was now creeping up his throat. It ached, now, in the sunlight, as though the power of the dagger was diminished here.

The image of Cormath's face was burned into Tavian's sight: the man's stoic mask, as he plunged into the darkness.

"I'm not abandoning you," Tavian muttered to himself. Shona emerged from the hole last, gathering with her mages. They had been taking up the rear. She'd found a wood cutting axe somewhere, and it rested over her shoulder.

"What a filthy stinking pit," she groaned.

"I'm never going down there again!" Tavian wished he could say the same. Cormath's own words echoed in his mind.

"There's no such thing as a fair fight. Use every advantage you have."

"Keep your mages sharp," Tavian said.

"We're going to need them here. Anarvians could be anywhere, but most likely atop the inner wall." Shona saluted and sidled off. Tavian climbed the steps up to the wall. He didn't want to claim tiles too soon and let Mandros have a chance to adjust to what they were doing. They would sweep around toward the north, clearing out any of Anarvia's men they found.

Tavian expected to find some men guarding the outer gates, preventing anyone from getting in or out, but observations so far suggested that most of the enemy were holding the gates of the inner wall. Atop the steps a sheltered area provided protection for watchmen from the elements. As Tavian arrived, he saw that this had been blockaded, and Braun was speaking with someone inside. Two bodies lay on the wall nearby; Anarvian from the color of their livery. Soldiers began helping dismantle the makeshift blockade.

"A few of the household servants who'd been in town," Braun explained, as frightened men and women emerged from the shelter.

"They arrived in the middle of it, and were attacked." They wielded planks and sticks, some of them still splattered with blood. As they emerged from the shelter, gaunt and pale, each of them spat on the bodies of the dead men.

"Pigs," a woman said.

"I haven't killed enough of them!" One of the women knelt when she saw Tavian.

"My lord," she said.

"I knew that you would come to save us. Praise Ishtoran!" She was weeping.

"Stay here," Tavian said to her.

"Stay safe until we've secured the fortress." Tavian peered into the shelter, where these people had been huddled, hiding without food or water for days. It stank. They must have been so afraid, to not even venture out and look for help. Tavian couldn't blame them, not when Anarvians were killing everyone. A dead woman lay on the ground. Tavian closed his eyes and turned away, sickened by the sight. He hated seeing his home like this. Lord Anarvia would never be able to rule over Tar Corinath, not after this.

"What are we becoming, Braun?" he asked. Would he ever be able to walk the walls of Tavirost, without the memory of death following him? But Braun wasn't there. A wave of whispers ran through the men on the wall. Everyone was staring out past the battlements, toward the Temple of Ishtoran. Tavian ran over to the lookout where his brother stood. From here, the temple and its grounds were largely visible.

The large cemetery, full of tombstones and crypts, the elegant gardens, the housing complex, and the looming structure of the temple itself. Tavian's throat caught as he gazed out over the beauty of Tar Corinath, sweeping down toward the glittering sea. It was truly one of the most incredible places he had ever been. People were pointing now, and Tavian noticed what had caught their attention. There were soldiers among the crypts. No—there were soldiers coming out of the crypts.

As they watched, more of them filled the narrow streets of the cemetery. They were moving toward the Temple. Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings. Tavian couldn't tell if they were soldiers, or ghouls. But they appeared to be fighting with other men, wearing Anarvian livery. Had Anarvia recovered the relic from the dungeon already?

"Tavian," Braun said, clutching Tavian's sleeve.

"We need to go help them. They're defenseless, in the temple!"

"No, Braun," Tavian said.

"We're already overextended." Braun looked on desperately.

"Please!" he cried out.

"No," Tavian said.

"There's only a matter of time before Mandros figures out what we're doing. We need to secure the gates." Braun pursed his lips and fell in, but he was clearly distressed. They marched along the wall top and within the space between the walls, sweeping around to the small flameward gate in the outer wall. Four Anarvians leaped to their feet when they saw Tavian coming, drawing swords. A fifth man started running. He was struck by a half dozen magical [Darts], and crumpled to the ground.

As more of Tavian's soldiers came into view, the fight went out of the Anarvians. Their leader, a dark haired man with a wild beard, threw down his weapons and raised his hands into the air.

"We surrender!" he exclaimed. Tavian's men swarmed around the Anarvians, and began binding them. The man struck by [Darts] was dead.

"We can't hold prisoners, Braun," Tavian said, turning to his brother.

"What do we do with—" A column of smoke appeared in the distance, coming from the temple.

"I can't," Braun said.

"I can't sit back and watch."

"Braun," Tavian said warningly, but his brother was already moving.

"Braun, stop!" He moved toward his brother, but his wounds ached and his body moved sluggishly. Braun ran to the gate, and shouted orders at the dozen men who'd secured it. They ran together, beneath the arch of the wall and out on the road, heading toward the Temple of Ishtoran.

"Braun, get back here!" he shouted, "By Ishtoran, what are you doing?" The fool had just taken twelve men, weakening them when they were most vulnerable.

"My lord," said a nearby soldier.

"Didn't you know? He's gotten quite friendly with young Anella Tiren since you've been gone." Tavian bared his teeth, then spat on the ground. He winced as the movement made his whole body ache.

"They say she's carrying his child," the soldier said with a vulgar grin.

"Quiet," Tavian snapped at the man.

"We've got other issues to deal with here. We're going to have to leave someone here to guard these men, maybe the servants we just rescued? They can watch and make sure they don't try to escape or get a message—" As he spoke, Shona moved among the prisoners, examining their faces. When she came to the leader, she cried out in anguish.

"It's him!" she screamed, "You bloody bastard!" The big woman kicked the bound man in the face, knocking him to the ground.

"Hoben wasn't doing anything to threaten you! What's a man supposed to do with a frying pan against a spear? You just gutted him like a pig and then laughed while he died."

"Stop that!" Tavian said, but he was too late.

"You don't deserve this," Shona snarled. Her axe flashed in the air; a perfect arc. It landed in the prisoner's skull with a dull thunk, like the woman was just splitting logs. The man's body went limp, and he crumpled to the ground. Shona placed a foot on the body and ripped the bloodied axe free. Tavian's men simply stood by, watching with approval as Shona turned on the three remaining men. The prisoners cowered.

"I bet you was all up to no good too," Shona said, swinging her axe menacingly.

"No sense in keeping you alive sos you can keep indulging in your foul crimes. I know one of yous ra—" Tavian grabbed the woman's axe and tried to yank it from her hands. Blood trickled down the haft onto his hand.

"Shona," Tavian shouted.

"We don't kill prisoners." Shona looked at Tavian with wild, fiery eyes. He met her gaze. Then her face softened, and she relinquished the axe.

"This is unacceptable," Tavian said.

"We are not them!"

"I think the pigs deserve to die," Shona said.

"We'll figure that out," Tavian said.

"My father might be dead, but we still have a process for that."

"They've been killing everyone," Shona snapped.

"Women, children, servants. Why should we let them live?"

"Maybe," Tavian said.

"But one man's actions are not the actions of all. We will take them prisoner and they will be judged. You shouldn't have killed a surrendering man."

"You gonna take me prisoner too, then?" Everyone stared at him, wondering what his next move was going to be. He glanced around, and realized he was looking for someone to support him. Cormath was gone. Braun was gone. Even Lea couldn't speak to him now. What else was he supposed to do? She'd committed a crime, and needed to be punished. Distant shouts rang out from somewhere else inside Tavirost Fortress.

"No," Tavian said.

"Not yet. We're in the middle of taking the fortress. I need you leading the battlemages up on the wall, to defend us if Mandros tries anything. We'll deal with this—he indicated the dead Anarvian lying on the ground—later." Shona gave a curt nod, then went to rejoin the battle mages. Tavian ached. He felt like he was losing control, like everything was slipping away from him. A deadly silence ran through the ranks of the men-at-arms as Shona walked away. Tavian stared out the gate to where Braun was.

He was no longer visible from here. Something would have to be done about that, too. He fought the urge to run after his brother. It would be a huge mistake. Nothing worked if he didn't claim the fortress. He couldn't let this distract him from his mission. His wound ached, and a strange ringing echoed in his ears. He needed to get to Tier III. ⬣ New Perk: Darksight (passive, togglable) ⬣ ⬣ You have survived a dangerous encounter with miasma. You can now see the flows of miasma.

Additional information about miasma is available on your map. ⬣ Tavian blinked, surprised. He toggled the Perk. His vision shifted. Like Hexsight, the Perk changed the way he saw the world. Everything faded to tones of gray, shifting, swirling mists of miasma moving in his vision. He glanced at his side, and saw the knot of darkness there. It was not free flowing, but seemed locked into his flesh. The ground below his feet showed currents of miasma moving in the dungeon beneath.

Everywhere his Influence extended, miasma flowed away from his kingdom. The Core was fighting; defending his kingdom. But Tavian's attention moved onto the men and women who had just followed him through the darkness. Each of them had a swirl of miasmic darkness in them, but it was draining away, dissipating in the air as each of them breathed the fresh air. This ability would be very useful to him. He would need it when he went back in the dungeon to rescue Cormath.

He wondered if the Essence of death had motivated Shona's actions today. But he was forgetting himself. Tier III awaited.