Besieged Read online

  He pushed himself to his feet and started toward the cord. She blocked his path, “You can’t.”

  “I must.”

  “Please.” She stroked his perennially bristly jaw.

  He trapped her hand with his, “I can do this.”

  She bit her lip, trying to keep her tears from falling. “Rest a little before you return.”

  “If it is necessary, I will.”

  She stepped back and he disappeared through the window. She could not bear to watch; it was time to be busy. The bells and ropes must be checked in preparation for their morning ringing. She climbed the stone steps, up two floors to the ringers’ platform.

  The ropes showed no signs of wear. Nor was there a single tangle. She climbed up to the bells themselves. Four magnificent bells without crack or blemish stood in the morning shadows.

  Surely the tone was as rich as the bells promised. One small push of a clapper to satisfy her curiosity and she would return to Kyam. Her hand swished back and forth where the clapper should hang. Empty space. Was it shorter than usual? That would lessen the impact—damage the sound.

  On tiptoe she reached higher. Nothing. She tilted the bell toward the light.

  No clapper.

  A quick check of the other bells—she whimpered. A perilous crossing for nothing.

  Chapter 2

  After checking to make sure the missing clappers were not lying in a corner, she hurried down the steps to Lyn and Lusan.

  Those clappers were heavy; surely they would not have been carried out of the tower. Two steps below the ringer’s platform, she heard Lin and Lusan gasp. She cleared the last of the stairs in a leap and rushed to the window.

  Castoff’s head poked over Kyam’s shoulder in the sling he had fashioned—she had seen babies carried thus. Kyam was struggling, his grip white-knuckled. He wasn’t even half-way.

  “They are trying to cut the cord,” Lyn called, “You must hurry.”

  In the window, two men with knives sawed and hacked. As she watched, the cord began to unravel.

  Kyam looked down. “Is the door secure?”

  Lusan shook her head. “It is locked but Cierra and I could not put the barricade in place. Too heavy.”

  “Quickly, daughter! We must try.” Lyn and Lusan pounded down the stairs racing against the guards Cierra could see running from the citadel.

  She watched, frozen, as Kyam’s cord dropped lower and lower—they had cut one of the three strands. Movement below drew her attention. Not all guards had gone to the tower entry. Five stood with bows drawn, aiming at Kyam. A great screeching pierced the air. She could only pray that sound was not the door being forced open.

  Kyam measured the sagging cord—two strands were cut now—and looked at her. “The window below—be ready.”

  She ran down the stairs to the next level in time to see Kyam and Castoff below her swinging from the end of the cord still attached to the bell tower. They were going to hit the wall. Kyam lifted his legs to absorb the impact. They bounced away and then swung back toward the wall. A shower of arrows glanced off the stones surrounding the window.

  “Quickly, anchor me!” Cierra shouted to Lyn and Lusan as they returned. She leaned out the window to grab the cord. She felt their hands holding her just when it seemed the cord would pull her off her feet. An arrow grazed her arm. She ignored the stinging pain.

  She looked down into Kyam’s face. “Hold on. We’ll pull you in.” She braced her legs and tugged. Lyn and Lusan, one on each side, pulled as well. Castoff yelped. An arrow stuck from the blanket holding the dog. Blood stained it red.

  Slowly, much too slowly, they pulled Kyam and Castoff up. Kyam did what he could to help by ‘walking up’ the wall. When he dangled half in, half out of the window on his stomach, he grunted, “Get Castoff in.”

  He groaned. Cierra saw a feathered end protruding from his thigh. “He’s hit. Hurry.”

  The narrow window didn’t make it easy; there was little room for hands to steady the dog as he crawled out of his sling and over Kyam’s head. Cierra reached out as far as possible, grabbing Kyam's shirt and pulling. Forearms braced on the sill, Kyam levered his body through the opening. Finally they all collapsed on the floor panting. Cierra was not sure she would ever be able to move her arms and legs again. It felt as if she had used an entire lifetime of strength in the past hour.

  Kyam pulled the arrow from his leg. “The water, Cierra.”

  She found she could move after all. Scrambling up the stairs to the next floor to her pack seemed to take hours. She almost pitched headlong in her race back down.

  Lyn had staunched the blood flow in their wounds by the time she returned.

  Cierra let Kyam drink then cupped her hands while Lusan poured a portion for the dog. The water did not fail them.

  In moments, Castoff was going from face to face, ministering happy swipes. A flapping sound brought his head up. He stood on his hind feet to look out the window. Whatever he saw, he didn’t like—growls rumbled in his chest.

  Kyam rolled to his knees to investigate. “Down, everybody down.”

  They huddled on the floor as the flapping grew louder and closer.

  A foul stench swept over them like a massive sea wave. Cierra clapped both hands over her nose. The potent smell made her eyes water. Through her tears she saw the others burrowing into cloaks, sleeves, tunics, whatever was available. The smell was so overpowering that at first she didn’t notice the sudden darkness as a huge shadow settled over the window.

  A creaking sound, like someone settling in an old leather saddle, drew her attention. The head of a bird-like creature filled the window. Small eyes set in dusty black feathers above a long beak with a lethal point stared back at her. It appeared to be a bird of some kind, although it was far larger than any she had ever encountered—even the great winged herons that rode the winds far out into the ocean.

  “Stooges of The Masters, give it up. The city of Risler belongs to His Eminence. Surrender immediately.” The bird had spoken, and not mere parrot talk either. Cierra wondered what kind of creatures His Eminence had enlisted and where he had found them. She shivered as her imagination produced possibilities.

  “The city has a Watcher still, you should not depend too heavily on unhatched eggs—they could be rotten,” Kyam held Castoff back.

  The bird screamed its outrage, “Lies. Lies. It’s ours. All ours.”

  “Give us your name, Traitor-to-The-Masters, that we might give you formal orders to leave us.” Lyn pushed to her feet to face the beak.

  “I am Orig, second fulcarry of the aerial division. I take orders from no one save His Eminence.” One yellow foot, long, with curled claws made for rending flesh, gripped the ledge and secured the fulcarry’s position. Orig angled his body, which exceeded Castoff’s in size, to squeeze at least one wing in the narrow opening. He wedged himself firmly in the window. “His Eminence has ordered that we destroy all who foolishly cling to The Masters’ cause.” Faster than she could blink, Orig’s beak slashed Lyn’s arm.

  With his shoulder, Kyam rammed the bird’s head against the side of the window, forcing the beak against the sill. Castoff, standing on his hind legs, tried to grab its throat. His teeth pulled tufts of feathers, but drew no blood. Orig’s screams of pain and rage mixed with the sound of scrambling claws as it tried to withdraw. It writhed and jerked to loosen Kyam’s hold.

  Cierra hesitated. What should she do? Kyam dare not release Orig, he would be slashed to ribbons. But he could not hold the bird captive indefinitely either.

  Orig twisted and yanked, all the while squawking threats. His wings, partially restrained, created clouds of dirt as they tried to flap. Only the power of Kyam’s body kept him captive. Lusan had wrapped her mother’s arm and now watched the battle between Kyam and Orig.

  Cierra had to do something to help. She spotted a length of rope in the corner. She snatched it and raced to Kyam, calling to Lusan, “Stand on the other side of the window.”

&n
bsp; As she approached the murderous beak, Kyam leaned even harder to still Orig’s movements. “Careful, Mela.”

  Standing as far to the side as she could, she looped the rope around the beak several times and tossed one end to Lusan while she held the other. They backed up in opposite directions until the rope was taut. It wouldn’t hold Orig for long, but they only needed enough time for Kyam to spring back.

  Kyam was dropping and rolling even as he released the fulcarry. Orig jerked backward to free his beak from the rope then surged forward to stab and kill. But they were all out of range.

  “This defeat means nothing, stooges. You are trapped. We’ll burn you out or starve you out. We’ll hang your corpses on the city wall as a warning to anyone who still thinks The Masters strong.”

  The stench receded as Orig left the window.

  “The door!” Lin shouted. “The barricade needs still to be lowered.”

  Taking the stairs three at a time and jumping the last four at each landing, Kyam used his momentum to swing around each turn. The others followed as quickly as they could. They heard the thud as their enemies launched themselves against the massive stone doors. Since the walls on either side were grey stone as well nothing shuddered or moved. The narrow slits, serving as windows, allowed light and air to get in but not intruders, although one enterprising soldier placed his bow near the opening and shot an arrow in at random.

  Lyn pointed to a large wheel and pulley attached to the crossbar, a thick oblong slab of stone. “This will keep them out.” Cierra and Kyam wrestled with the rusted metal pulley, forcing it to lower the slab until it stretched across the doors, cradled on the other side of the door in its stone latch. Kyam stepped back.

  The Watcher patted the cross-latch. “A prophecy was given on the day of dedication that in the day of Risler’s greatest peril, this tower would bring safety and victory.”

  They heard angry shouts outside.

  Cierra and Lusan collapsed, panting on the stone floor. Kyam crouched next to them. “We dare not rest, the bells must be rung.”

  Cierra shook her head. “First the clappers must be found.”

  “Not in the bells?”

  “No. All are gone.”

  Lusan whimpered, “All for nothing.”

  “We will not know that until the end, daughter. Come, the House of Lyn does not give up. Let us search for the clappers—or anything that would be an acceptable substitute.”

  They searched all six floors, which didn’t take long—all were as empty as a pauper’s cupboard, save for the ladder used to detach the clappers. Nor did they find any acceptable substitutes—pebbles didn’t make an impressive sound. Sitting on the stairs just below the belfry, they listened to the sounds of an army amassing. Shouts and curses interspersed with fulcarry screams warned them that time was limited.

  Look again.

  Cierra shook her head. That couldn’t have been Ya-Owni’s voice. Her overly hopeful imagination was luring her to foolishness.

  Look again.

  “Where?”

  The others swiveled to stare at her.

  “Where what, Mela Dolsi?”

  “Ya-Owni, or perhaps my own mind, told me to search again.”

  “Then that is what we will do.” Kyam rose and began tapping walls. “Since they are not in plain sight, we will look behind and below.” They scattered to sound out every surface. Lusan was the one who discovered the hollow space under the stairs.

  They found the clappers on the ground floor wrapped in dark cloth shrouds that made them invisible in the limited lighting. Cierra checked them as best she could in the dimness and saw no damage or flaws.

  Kyam picked up the largest and headed for the stairs. Lyn followed with the smallest one, while Cierra and Lusan wrestled with the next in size. Between them they heaved and tugged it upward. At each landing they pivoted so that neither had to climb all the stairs backward.

  Lyn and Kyam had paused on the third floor to catch their breaths. “I see The Masters’ hand even in the rope breaking.” Kyam grinned. ”If we had been one flight higher, the windows would have been large enough for Orig to enter and attack us where we rested. And the narrow steps keep him from descending from above, if he is capable of using stairs.”

  “Is he always so quick to see a gleam of gold in the dross?” Lusan looked at Cierra.

  “Always.” Cierra grinned. “It can be irritating, but mostly comforting.”

  “And a poor man never knows which it will be. My kitten has sharp claws as well as soft fur.” Kyam shouldered his clapper and headed for the next stairs. The rest followed, the only sounds were assorted grunts and gasps. Castoff stopped to check at each window then bounded ahead, weaving around their trembling legs.

  While Kyam and Cierra began the process of attaching the clappers, Lyn and Lusan went back to get the last one. Kyam stood on the top rung of the ladder inside the largest bell while Cierra steadied it.

  “Is this mountain enough for you, Elpian? Personally I would like a few calm seas—a few days to let sails and ship do the work.”

  “Wrong realm, Caparian, you describe The Masters’ Empire, not our world.”

  “But does it have to be mountain piled atop mountain? We don’t even conquer one obstacle before another taunts us.”

  “It builds soul strength. Do you think the designer of the worlds—worlds of beauty and grace—find delight in weak, flabby souls who collapse at the first challenge?”

  Cierra drummed her fingers on the bell’s rim. “I have no desire to be fat and lazy, either inside or out, but I find the process of muscle building discouraging.”

  Kyam’s voice rumbled and swirled in the bell, “Stop looking at the process and see instead the end. Muscles come from pushing against iron, not feathers—unless they are attached to a fulcarry.”

  She shuddered. “Is it possible to be killed by smell alone?”

  “It is certainly enough to stun. Now it is time to see if we can do a little stunning of our own. Have you planned your recital?”

  “The most joyful songs I know, which I can do with just Lusan’s help.”

  “That is not a great deal.” Lusan entered with the last clapper. “I did not heed my lessons as I should have. When this is over, that will change.”

  After they trudged down to the ringer’s platform two floors below, Kyam separated the pick axe head from its handle. He and Lyn armed themselves with these attached to the ends of their braided ropes: they needed to be able to fend off Orig without placing themselves within reach of its beak. Neither knives nor axes had long enough handles. “Aim for the throat." Kyam demonstrated with a rocking motion of his rope and axe.

  Kyam cupped Cierra's chin and smiled. “No matter what happens, ring with all your heart and skill. Don’t stop, for that is what they want. Your music is our only hope.”

  Invisible cords tightened across her chest. How ominous his words—as if he knew how costly their battle would be. Her imagination scrolled hideous possibilities through her mind. She couldn’t lose him. However would she survive? Yet, how could she dishonor his sacrifice by placing her own desires first. A shudder coursed down her back.

  Looking into his beautiful brown eyes she promised. “I’ll not stop. No matter what.”

  He kissed her forehead. “My beloved has the heart of a lioness.”

  Her head came up. She would be the courageous woman he called her. Breathing deep, she nodded to Lusan. In unison they pulled the bell ropes creating a sudden, loud prelude.

  “Some guards are frozen in place.” Lyn was watching the activity below. “Some are running in circles.” She chuckled, “They could accomplish more if they were not using their hands to stop their ears.”

  Cierra swiped at the beads of sweat on her forehead and pulled with all her strength. This was her battlefield; she intended to win a decisive victory. She and Lusan moved from rope to rope, peal after peal ringing out. This city would feel as if it lived inside a drum before she was through.<
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  Joy surged through her veins—this was her mountain.

  Screeches and flapping told her Orig was battling mightily. She could imagine that long lethal beak stabbing and parrying. Shouts, growls, and whizzes reassured her Kyam, Lyn and Castoff were countering every attack. Forcing herself to ignore it all, she continued to ring the bells for thirty minutes. She wanted to check that Kyam and Castoff were unharmed, but to stop ringing would be exactly what their enemy wished.

  ✽✽✽

  Cierra relaxed against the wall and slid down to sit on the floor. Castoff dropped panting at her side. Eyes drooping he rested his head in her lap.

  “A lasting memory of this journey will be how often I envied my dog.” Kyam stood next to the window. “There appears to be a lot of activity, but little purpose. No more assaults on the door. Orig has his head buried under one wing.”

  Lyn walked over. “What of my people? Surely the bells have called to them.”

  Kyam shook his head. “Only guards are visible.”

  “The damage is far deeper than I imagined. The poison drew my attention away from them.” Lyn’s shoulders slumped. “I betrayed their trust and The Masters’ charge.”

  “You are not alone. It has happened all over Capular.” Kyam gripped Lyn’s shoulder. “Learn from it… change. And brace for war.”

  Cierra and Lusan rang the bells seven times—each a full ringing with a rest between. It consumed their morning and displaced the noon meal. Now the afternoon sun heated the tower until the air shimmered. A faint stirring of pleasure moved in her heart—never had she hurt so badly, but never had she persevered so long. It must be the beginnings of those muscles Kyam prized so highly.

  The battles with Orig were fierce. The large windows gave the merciless creature unlimited access to the ringers’ platform. Here Orig was not restricted to head and beak but could wedge its massive wings in the opening as well. Its screams echoed in the chamber. It took every bit of determination she could squeeze from her heart not to turn and check on the battle. No matter how many times she rang, the urge was still strong to make sure Orig was not winning.