The Father of Withering

Chapter Ten: The Battle on the Walls

Back up, Relma went to the walls, carrying a jug of water with her. She offered to anyone who became thirsty. As she reached the top, she saw both the militia and the man at arms assembling on the walls. Spears and bows were in their hands, as well as some axes. They looked out over the fields where, even now, the satyrs were beginning to emerge.

They hadn't yet come out of the marshes, however. Many were half-submerged in the water. Others were peering out of the trees or hanging from branches. Like the apes from the stories Aren used to tell.

Eventually, Relma reached Varsus, where he stood with the blade at his side. To her surprise, he was standing with the officers from before. And they were speaking to him as a commander. She supposed he was the highest rank of any present except Reginald. Relma was the Heir of Kings, so that didn't hold up. And Aunt Pan didn't even have a rank.

"Relma, what are you doing here?" asked Varsus as she approached.

"The healer asked me to look after anyone injured on the wall," said Relma.

"Excellent," said Varsus. "Every bit helps. You can stay here if you wish. We'll have a better view of things. At least until the carnage starts."

"Sir Varsus, the message has been sent out," said Anagoth, approaching. "Frederick and De Cathe know what is happening. With luck, they'll bring reinforcements."

'How far away are they?" asked Varsus.

"Three days," said Anagoth.

"The satyrs may be gone by the time they come then," said Varsus.

"What do you mean?" asked Relma, forgetting her place.

"This may be a raid," said Varsus. "We still don't know the enemy's full strength. Our reports came from trees, and they never say anything clearly. At least not without taking three years about it."

"You can talk to trees?" asked Relma.

"No," said Anagoth. "But some among our folk can. It's a skill that helps us defend against satyr raids. Anias sending Fayn out there was sheer idiocy."

"Where is Fayn?" asked Relma. "And Estela, for that matter? I haven't seen them anywhere."

"They and Reginald have orders of their own," said Varsus. "Look there."

And out of the trees came the satyrs. Wearing war paint, they howled and gnashed their teeth as they rushed out. The mud of the marsh was on them. They looked more like animals than sentients; Relma realized that was an awful thing to think. Their spears, axes, and swords were in their hands as they rushed forward.

Those few houses that remained had their doors kicked in. The satyrs entered, searching around for anything to look at. Fields were torn up, and crops trampled as they hacked down everything they found. One or two human screams could be heard from people who hadn't gotten out in time. Relma saw distant figures being pulled from their houses before packs of satyrs fell on them. They were covered beneath a pile of satyrs, and then the screams halted. Then, one of the creatures rose up with a bloodied mouth and snarled.

"That's far more than I expected," said Anagoth. "And no ladders."

"Yes," said Varsus. "No doubt they are counting on spiritual support. Fortunately, I've arranged for their coming not to be unwelcomed." Then he drew a horn and blew it a long, shrill call.

As it rang, the ground seemed to shift as a large force of warriors emerged from the grass. They fell on the satyrs while pillaging and killing all they could.

Estela was at the front, hacking down all who came before her. Reginald was to her left, his serrated blade moving in a blur. Ham was on the right, slashing the enemy with ruthless strikes. One of the satyrs caught him across the helm with his sword, but Ham powered through and ran him through.