The fall of imbuthara

1. The fall of imbuthara (prelude) part I

With a faint smile, Inra turned around to let his gaze shift over the inside of the wall. Imbuthara hadn't been attacked in years, which made a man standing watch feel quite complacent. More so, than was perhaps desirable. A frown crept across his face. All seemed well, so why was it that his nerves just wouldn't calm down? Absentmindedly, he found himself looking straight at the sturdy tar roof of his own house at the city's edge. Slate roofs were healthier and safer, but they were also expen- sive. It was well built, homely and as clean as cities allow for. It couldn't hold a candle to the ornamented, grand buildings of white stone in the center of the city, where the nobility and the members of the order of The Golden Phoenix live, but that too was well. Maghara wealth made for ill begotten splendor, and its recipients did not often grow old. He had lived a good, upright life, with his fourth child on the way. Perhaps a second son. The second son always went in the army. Just like the first son chose a profession among the guilds of the city if any wanted to have him. With a smile he decided that he would be glad to teach his son all that he knew about being a soldier.

"Time for another round you old wrack." Talking to oneself was a habit easily developed on the lonely nights of watch, and Inra became very talkative when he was nervous. He had a lot of ground to cover. In the past at least, there were several guards per section of the wall. The tedious dullness of peace time that every army had to battle its way through, had taken its toll. "Lo save us from the shortsightedness of politicians" he muttered out loud the complaint of the entire army.

He went up and about, scanning the inside for burglars as much as the outside for trouble. Guard duty really was a 'two birds, one stone' business. Three steps forward, look left, another three, look right. His spear accompanied all of his steps with a rhythmic ticking. A silly thing really, but he had always liked to keep rhythms in everything he did. Suddenly a flash of motion made Inra give a startled jump. "You're seeing ghosts now are you, you old fool?" He tried to bite his tongue. Talking out loud at the wrong moment could kill a man, but old habits die harder still. "I could have sworn I just saw that big boulder move." He stared intently at the black heap no more than five hundred feet away from the wall. It was vaguely lit by the lights that were always burning at night to illuminate the front of the wall. "Just an ordinary boulder, too big to haul away" he comforted himself. But then why couldn't he remember any such boulder lying there? He warily eyed the suspicious piece of rock.

Then the boulder moved again. Inra felt the blood drain from his face. "My mother told me about ice-trolls coming to get me in my sleep, but never boulders." He looked even more intently. Not one boulder, but at least fifteen of them were moving a bit further behind, and more were coming into sight. "Those things got legs and tails, Lo damn me!" A few smaller, crawling figures became visible between the big stones. Suddenly a fiery arrow emanated from somewhere in between the crawling rocks, or whatever they were.

Too shocked to even speak his astonishment out loud he followed the arrow with his eyes, which flew higher and burned brighter than ought to be possible. It slowly sailed over the wall like a curved sunbeam of doom, exploding into a churning ball of flames as soon as it made contact with a roof. The sight of fire in the city final- ly shocked Inra out of his bedazzlement. "We're being attacked!" it came out as a yell. "The warning gong!"

As he sprinted for the gong, a flood of arrows emerged from roughly the place where the first arrow had been fired, which turned out to have been an expertly fired probe. The tar roofs at the edge of the city weren't going to catch flame quickly, but when they did, the flames would be nigh on unquenchable, and the smoke poisonous. If only Ila and the children can get out in time. Sick with worry, he dropped his spear to be able to run faster. Speed was of the essence now. His breath came out in labored pants. Cursing himself for not following his instinct and growing too complacent, for his slow reaction and his tardy old bones, he ran as fast as he could. Under the sound of arrows rattling on roofs and cobblestones, he reached the gong and hit it as hard as he could with the stave that lay there for exactly that purpose. "Three times for an attack, then one more for it being in the east", he repeated for himself. The code established during the Vulture Wars, when the city was frequently attacked.

After a few seconds, the sound of gongs repeating his signal told him that his warning had not gone unheeded, if there was still anybody left that couldn't spot the red and orange arches of the arrows by himself at this point. Big fires were being lit all along the wall to bathe the surrounding land in light almost as bright as day. "At least not everybody is as dimwitted as I am tonight." Abruptly, the sound of death arose from in front of the walls. A howling. A howling such as he had never heard before in all his years of service, but recognized as on instinct. He froze to the marrow in his bones. "Dorzar", he groaned. The wolf like abominations from the north, whose muzzles resembled those of wolves, whereas their bodies resembled those of men in shape. With hairy claws that could wield weapons and cut on their own, and red to yellow terrifying eyes that sparked fear in the heart of even the bravest, they were formidable foes. Furtive and often unseen, he had never met their like. He had simply heard enough stories of their vileness and disregard for all life to get a sour taste in his mouth just thinking about them. But to his knowledge, they never attacked cities, nor did they come close to them. Why would they suddenly do so now?

Peeking over the wall, a sight unfolded before him that made his stomach clench with fear. And he began saying the only thing that made sense to him in this situation. "I am the guardian of the night. I am awake where others sleep. I will not run, I will not hide. I protect, I serve, I sacrifice. When enemies come, I'll have no pity. I am the guardian of this city." Under the familiar sound of the soldier's creed he watched the attackers draw closer. In front of him marched hordes of Dorzar, interspersed with what seemed like impossibly large lizards. What kind of sick, rotten corner of the world do those creatures come from?, he thought dumbfounded. Even as he watched and listened, the howling of the Dorzar reached a fever pitch, and wolf and lizard creature alike broke into a rapid sprint, dodging like islands in a stream the groups of archers in their midst that kept up the deadly rain of fire over the city. Like a rushing tide, they made a seemingly mad and uncontrolled dash for the city walls, as if aiming to break their muzzles on the ancient stone. Hails of arrows rained between them from the towers at his left and right, descending from as high as one hundred and fifty feet.

He saw one of the lizards had at least twenty arrows embedded in its body, but still its legs propelled it onwards. How could they possibly fight such monsters? But then he thought of his family and wondered how he could possibly waver. He had whispered to Ila in nights so long ago that he would take a blade in his heart to prevent even a bruise on her skin. She had laughed and had ordered him to speak no more of dying, but to live with her. Without her, his life would be nothing.

Inra drew a few deep, shuddering breaths and reached inside of himself as best as he could, searching for the beating of his heart. He explored the vessels that transported his blood through his body, from his lungs to everywhere. His knowledge of the human body was far from perfect, but at this moment he felt like he didn't have any other options. He unclenched his muscles and slowed down his blood flow as much as he dared. Fear flowed out of him. Only purpose remained. His jaw clenched as he swore these creatures would rue the day they ever laid eyes on this city. He could vividly imagine the foul creatures drooling and oozing whatever liquids they possessed at the thought of slaying every single person, be it man, woman, or child in the city. He feared no longer for him- self, but he did fear for his wife and children. He couldn't fail. If these creatures gave evil a face, that face would just have to be smashed in.