Reaching a place in the long passage where they were walking up an incline, Lysle said, ‘Are we going to get out of this alive?’
‘Probably not,’ answered James, ‘but then no one gets out of life alive, do they?’
‘There is that. But you have a hedge?’
‘You always hedge a bet,’ said James. ‘If there’s a way to get out of here alive, this is it.’ He indicated a large doorway, big enough to accommodate a wagon and team.
‘I see what you mean about being able to smuggle through here,’ said Lysle as two soldiers opened the huge wooden doors. They swung open silently, showing recent attention, and inside a bright light illuminated a hundred soldiers, readying with bows, crossbows, and swords.
‘Here we are.’
Lysle let out a soft whistle of appreciation. ‘I see you plan a warm welcome for whoever comes this way.’
‘Far warmer than you imagine,’ said James.
He motioned for Lysle and his half-dozen Mockers to enter and said, ‘Welcome to the last bastion in Krondor.’
After James and those with him were inside, the doors were shut with a loud crack that had the ring of finality to it.
Erik heard the trumpet and instantly began shouting orders. They had been constantly righting with smaller elements of the invading forces, and had reports that similar fighting had begun near the sea gate, the northwestern gate. And at that point only a few men had been sighted near the southern gate of the city, which was fine with Erik, as he had ordered as many men to the northern gate as possible. Both gates fed refugees in a steady stream to the eastbound King’s Highway. And a mile east of where Erik and his companies stood, the two streams of humanity would come together, forming a clogging, slow-moving body of tired, frightened, and desperate people.
Erik’s mandate was to defend the rear of that column of Kingdom citizens as long as possible. Erik knew that meant halfway from here to Ravensburg if he was to judge things. At some point the enemy would likely cease harrying them. They had a city to sack and stores to replenish, and while the invaders were winning many battles, they were still disadvantaged from the long sea voyage.
Of the Saaur, Erik had seen little, and he wondered why they were being withheld after the first contact. He couldn’t spend much time trying to outwit his adversary, for there was too much to react to: the enemy was hurling small squads of raiders at his position. The battles were short and intense, and Erik had won them all, but the men were tiring and his casualties were mounting.
He had commandeered a wagon in which he had loaded his wounded, sending them east with the refugees. Now he heard the trumpet telling him the gates were to close, and as he started organizing a retreat, a young boy came riding up to him. ‘Captain?’
‘Yes, son, what is it?’ Erik saw the boy was dressed in the uniform of a palace page. Tears were streaming down his face.
‘Lord William ordered me to tell you to withdraw.’
Erik knew that, from the trumpet, so he had no idea why the boy was here. ‘What else?’
‘I’m to go with you.’
Then Erik understood. At least one of the palace boys was spared. ‘Ride east, and you’ll find a wagon with wounded in it. Attach yourself to them, and help tend the injured.’
‘Yes, sir.’
The boy rode off and Erik returned to the business of managing a retreat. Everything he had read in William’s library had told him an orderly retreat was the most difficult thing to accomplish in a battle. The tendency to turn and run was nearly overwhelming, and fighting a rearguard action was alien to men who had been taught to move forward when fighting.
But he had discussed this with William in theory over the last two years, and in particular since getting his new command earlier in the week, and Erik was determined that no force of his would be turned to rout.
Throughout the afternoon the sounds of battle carried to Erik from distant locations, even though his command was being left alone. He decided it was because the invaders were in the city and didn’t see the need to press the attack from the south or east.
He also knew that would change once James and William sprang their surprises.
A distant thud and, a moment later, a huge plume of dark smoke, and Erik knew the first of their nasty surprises was unleashed. Barrels of Quegan fire oil had been lashed to the supports of the docks, as well as laid in the basements and lower floors of the buildings that faced them, back for three city blocks. At the moment they were fired, the entire waterfront of the city erupted in a conflagration few could imagine, and the enemy soldiers within a hundred feet of any building were dead. Those not burned to a cinder died from lack of air as the fire stole it from their lungs.
Erik cast a glance to the southwest, toward the palace, dreading the thought that the Emerald Queen’s soldiers might be within the keep. Then a shattering blast sounded and Erik knew what had happened.