Sons of Ironstorm - Book 4: Griffon's Stand

Beseiged

Before any of them could comment further, a human soldier in black came running at full speed into the small courtyard, somewhat out of breath.

<<Ah, sirs, my lords, thank the Maker I found you,>> he managed to gasp as he staggered to a halt to lean over, bracing himself with his hands on his knees. <<King Ciradaan told us to expect you shortly after his arrival but he didn't give us where you would be arriving. We've been searching the castle to find you.>>

<<Consider us found, soldier,>> Shawn retorted with a frown, somewhat puzzled that this human soldier would chose to speak Vanje instead of Taren, though only one of their number was elven. <<What word do you bring?>>

<<I am ordered to bring you directly to the north wall, my Lord Wielder,>> the soldier instantly replied, finally regaining enough of his wind to stand erect, still somewhat red-faced with exertion. <<The united elven kings, General Thundersong and Governor Tod stand there, commanding the defenses!>>

<<Go, my Lord Wielders, my lady,>> Ashengar said when both Shawn and Patrik turned to look at the battered Redeemed that had just staggered to a halt in the courtyard from their own hurried passage through the portal. Many of them were battered and bleeding from numerous wounds, but, despite, looked ready to head back into battle. The Ben'havid commander, however, wasn't so willing to let them go without some much needed medical attention first.

<<I will sort out the Redeemed and ensure that they and the Covenant make it to the healers,>> he assured them. <<You are needed on the walls.>>

<<That we are, commander,>> Shawn agreed with a nod of thanks. Then he was turning to the human soldier.

<<Lead on, soldier,>> he directed. <<We're right behind you!>> With a final nod of acknowledgement to all of them, the soldier turned and led them out of the courtyard and into the general space within the Dagger's primary walls.

Here, the four found themselves directly in the heart of the fortress, and center of the effort to see it running efficiently during battle. Human soldiers in black, and colorful tartan, mixed with a handful of elven soldiers, were everywhere, moving purposefully from one place to another in the building and courtyard-filled space, moving supplies, being reassigned or reinforcing sections of the wall defense.

Looking beyond the densely shifting squads of soldiery, one could see other activities frantically taking place within the fortress's heart. To the left, human smiths in rough civilian clothing worked side by side with military smiths in black and tartan to keep weapons in working order in several portable smithies. A number of engineers in black worked just beyond the smithies to assemble portable catapults and other machines of war to counter the siege weapons being used against the wall.

To the right a rough field hospital had been erected beneath a large, pavilion style tent close to a courtyard wall. Beneath the tent's broad canopy healers were feverishly working over a number of wounded, each clad in the universally accepted white for their order, though hints of black, tartan or elvish clothing beneath peeked out to reveal their origin. Shawn was instantly relieved to see that the Covenant wives were now there, many of them being attended to by two or three healers, working to overcome angry and nasty wounds taken during their brief skirmish with the Tjor'riin in the Easterling.

And directly to the center an open mess had been assembled, with long tables and benches for people to sit at, and equally long tables for food preparing, their ends often offset with heavy pots or portable stoves and ovens. The two areas were divided by a single table where the food was offered on a series of plates, small pots and woven baskets. Even now, in the heat of battle, the mess was alive with a dozen cooks and food preparers, busily stirring stews, pulling loaves of bread from rough ovens or basting various meats turning on spits over cooking fires. There were a number of soldiers either eating, or getting food, most sporting bandages, taking advantage of the break in battle their injuries gave them, to take in sustenance. A soldier's life was hard; one didn't know when they would get the chance to eat again and so took advantage of even the least of opportunities.

Shawn nodded in silent approval at seeing how smoothly the smithies, the engineers, the field hospital and the mess were all being run. It was a sign of competent leadership. Then their attention was being directed away from the logistic operations back to the walls, where the castle's defenders now labored.

<<The command post has been set up there, my lords,>> the soldier in his accented Vanje indicated with a gesture one of the towers dominating the northeastern wall. <<We'll reach it via a staircase in the tower itself.>> They then set off across the central courtyard, with its busy operations, directly towards the squat wall-mounted tower.

Still armored in Wielder metal, it didn't take long before the four had entire squads stumbling to a halt to stare at the three Ironstorms as they made their way through the press, many muttering under their breath: "The Wielders have returned to defend the Dagger!"

Ignoring them for the most part, Shawn led the way behind their guide, already mentally preparing himself for battle. And part of that preparation was forgiving himself for abandoning Thom and Feladorn in the Krif to come rabbiting south in time to get himself captured.

- There was no way you could've known, my wielder, what the Lords of the Abyss had planned, - the Star's avatar quickly interjected into his mind, her tone both conciliatory and supportive. - You came to help your brother, your own flesh and blood! And your generals are more than competent; they'll have done well in your absence from the field in the Krif. -

- Perhaps, Star, - Shawn darkly conceded as they ducked in through the tower's ground level entrance and quickly began to make their way up the spiraling stone stairs set into the tower's outer wall. - But how many times have I abandoned my responsibilities in the heat of battle, only to nearly be taken out of the war completely by the enemy? Three? Four? How many times will it take before I learn? - Then Shawn's dark thoughts were interrupted by their arrival at the wall top and the impromptu command post in the small chamber nestled atop the tower.

"Ah, excellent!" Ciradaan rasped tiredly with a broad smile as they stepped up the last handful of stairs and into the small room, now dominated by a rough wood table, its top heaping with report parchments and maps.

"You've finally arrived, my friends." The simple statement was enough to bring every head bent over those maps and reports snapping immediately up, every eye focusing on the newcomers.

"General Thundersong, Governor Tod, I present the Lord Wielders of the Star and the Earth, Shawn and Patrik Ironstorm, respectively, along with their beautiful and uniquely talented sister, Shiana."

All three Ironstorms smoothly bowed their heads in both acknowledgement of Ciradaan's introduction and in greeting to not only the thoughtful and considering Thundersong, and beaming Tod, but to Kings Fenoran and Najthin as well, who were also laboring in the command post but needed no introduction to Lord Wielders. Thanks to Shawn, they knew the Wielders well already.

"It's good to see you safe and hale once more, Shawn," Fenoran quietly noted, Najthin nodding in agreement. "Both you and your brother had us quite concerned."

"Thank you, your Majesties," Shawn replied with a half smile and a quick look over at Patrik and Shiana. "Thanks to your comrade, King Ciradaan, we stand before you once again." Then the smile was gone.

"Unfortunately the tale of how that happened will have to wait. We've returned to find this key fortress under attack by the Shadow. We can only assume this assault coincides with our recent escape from the Shadow's grasp. So my brother and I ..."

"And sister," Shiana firmly interrupted to add, earning her querulous looks from Tod, Fenoran, Najthin and Ciradaan and an approving nod from Thundersong. Shawn smiled faintly before looking over at his determined sister. Noting the resolution on her face, he nodded as well before looking back at the assembled leaders.

"So my two siblings and I," he corrected, "offer our skills and abilities in assisting your forces in defending the Dagger."

"Skills and abilities we are most thankful for, my Lord Wielder." That from Thundersong, a handsome woman with grey peppering her short shorn, dark hair. "The enemy presses us tightly and, while I am thankful to finally have the opportunity to test my command against these 'Tjor'riin', I find our lack of experience in dealing with them is hampering our defense."

"Experience in dealing with the Shadow is something we certainly have, general," Patrik said with a grim smile of his own.

"Aim us and let fly! We'll do the rest ..."

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