Sorry, I don't think this chapter is particularly good, but I have to post it. Please review anyway, thanks! ~G
Chapter Thirty-Two: Siege
Murann, 2 Tarsakh, 1370 DR
She had teleported herself to Trademeet, knowing that she couldn't have made it to Murann, and that staying anywhere else would have been suicidal. A major part of her thinking had also been to rest for just one night without worrying about sieges and army billets, and for that one night, she had relaxed.
Coprith had entertained her in his home, and she had taken advantage of the opportunity for a long, hot soak in a soapy bath, and then a near-therapeutic groom by the beauticians of lady Lurraxol. And then, clean and refreshed, Nalia had continued with diplomatic conquests, consolidating the already-friendly mayor into an ally, though that had not been difficult, after all, Nalia's statue stood in the square of his town.
He had persuaded the merchants of the town to sell their wares to her at half-price, and so, in the early hours of the morning, Nalia mounted a new mare, a dusty bay. He robes had been cleaned, and her magical items, which had been protected by Kathryn while Nalia lay dead, now lay safely where they were meant to, rings on fingers, amulets around her neck, the circlet of Netheril around her brow, the staff de'Arnise held tightly, her magical yellow cloak, like yellow silk but of an impressive, almost silver sheen… the numbers of items she had on her person were incredible…
And held in her right hand, clutched to her chest, was her spell book, bound in yellow leather, and marked with the blue swan of House de'Arnise. Within those pages were the weak spells she had been taught by Maggie, the witch who had taught her magic on her father's request, the powerful magic learned during her travels, newer spells of her own devising, and rare spells that she had traded vast wealth for… her spell book alone was probably worth more than her estates, and if her items were sold, then Nalia could retire, an extremely rich woman, possibly one of the richest in Amn.
But money at this moment was nothing.
Sighing, she pulled up her hood, tightened the clasp to stop it from falling to reveal her face, and then started to nudge her horse forward, towards the gate of Trademeet. She would travel fast, through the ruins of Imnescar, through the moorland, and travel to Murann from the northern hills, hopefully looping round the right flank of the ogre magi army, and reaching the city before the enemy did.
The gate was in view, when a loud, thunderous cavalcade of hoof beats made her turn. Riding towards her was a patrol of five hundred guards of Trademeet, all mounted on horses? Leading them was Coprith:
"Lady Nalia, I give to you half of my men, that you may aid the city of Murann against the invaders. I must keep some to defend this town in the event that you fail, but you must garner some benefit from having accompanying soldiers, I'm sure. My town owes you everything for its very survival, and we here remember that debt… good luck, my lady."
She nodded. "Thank you, Coprith. This means a lot to me. I will remember your loyalty."
And then, turning to the soldiers, she said, "We ride hard! Do not attack any creatures you see, we ride straight past them! We have no time to deal with small raiding parties, we must reach Murann before the siege makes it impossible to get there… my friends will have powerful anti-teleportation wards placed around the city, so we need to get there soon."
With that, she cast an improved haste spell on the men around her, and with a shout, led the horsemen south along the pass, ready to turn east towards the city of Murann, upon which the forces of the Sythillisian Empire encroached.
*
The army moved a great, hideous blot- a cancer upon the earth it trampled. Nalia watched as it moved behind her, and her blood ran cold, realising for the first time just how many beasts there were… two hundred thousand seemed like a sea, or a lake, but a lake of bloodlust and shimmering steel.
Yet it was not just creatures that marched with the army, but humans as well, mercenaries, wearing chainmail, plate armour, carrying halberds, axes, swords… they were a motley few battalions, but Nalia could tell that they were ready to raze the jewel of the south to the ground, and pillage the wealth of centuries from Murann.
But the human mercenaries did not frighten her. What did was the blatant presence of spell-casters amongst the horde. Green-and-black robed Zhentarim, red-robed Thayvians, freelance spell casters… it seemed that there were about a thousand wizards, though Nalia doubted that many of them could even cast a decent magic missile. Still, a thousand wizards meant she would have to move carefully…
An arrow flew towards the five hundred soldiers, and Nalia, nestled on the hill before the city of Murann, about seven hundred metres from the army. Nalia stared at it, made a single gesture, and watched the arrow burst into flame. Ash fluttered to the ground at her feet, and she sniffed disdainfully.
Six hundred metres…
She turned her horse, and signalled the soldiers to begin the advance again.
Five hundred metres…
They charged towards Murann, and Nalia's cloak and robes billowed behind her, wings of yellow shining like a candle in a darkened room. Behind her, the enemy were getting closer, and the roars and bellows of fury shook the air and made it crackle with the hatred they felt for her. Nalia could understand why.
She lived!
Despite cutting off her head, and trampling her corpse, Nalia de'Arnise lived!
Crying out, she led the mad gallop towards the city, and the men followed. From the battlements, she could hear thousands of warriors calling her name, for they obviously recognised the yellow wizard, with her gleaming staff.
The cries of joy at seeing her alive were a great, whirling crescendo of praise, and Nalia felt glad for it. This was what she had sacrificed for, this was what she had died for… this was what she would fight for, the people of Amn, the warriors of Amn, those who had so little, yet were so important to the country.
For a split second, she wished she had murdered the Council, those corrupt bastards sitting in their gilded halls while Amn toppled around them… but then she remembered that she had a duty to them, as much as she had a duty to the lower classes… and she could not forsake that duty.
Even if she wanted to.
*
"You're late, de'Arnise!"
Nalia grinned, and clasped her arms around Imoen, both of them crying and weeping, but laughing at the same time. The warriors of Amn, those that were not on the walls, anyway, watched the two unite, and there were cheers. Imoen sniffed, and hugged Nalia tighter.
"You've done a good job here, Imoen… how did you persuade Temlinski to strengthen his city for war… he is said to be one of the most reactionary leaders in Amn. I doubt I could have persuaded him to repair the walls properly, and train the soldiers."
She had heard a lot in the fifteen minute or so she had been in the city. Cernick had somehow managed to be the first to see her, and now rode beside her. He had been telling her everything Imoen had done, and Nalia for a moment wondered whether she had lost his love to Imoen…
It didn't matter, if she had.
"Imoen did it with sheer force of will, Archmage and Duchess Nalia."
The strange air genasi, Apheyr, seemed different. More human, if that was possible. Certainly, he was less aloof and mysterious, and his voice had lost the pretentious 'theeing' and 'thouing' that he had picked up.
"Apheyr means I actually resorted to threats of physical violence. And don't call her Duchess, Apheyr. Nalia thinks it makes her sound eight-nine and not a day younger. Only old women are duchesses, not the young, attractive ones. So, Nalia. Why are you late?"
Nalia smiled again, though there was a slight hesitation. "Oh… I just had to break the rules of the universe first, Imoen… defy Kelemvor in his own realm, fry a few baatezu… I called the God of the Dead a bastard…"
That was a bit too much, even for Imoen. An eyebrow raised, and Apheyr raised both. The air genasi whispered in awe. "Perhaps Apheyr has chosen the wrong human mage… the Duchess de'Arnise seems to be much more powerful and skilled than Archmage Imoen…"
Imoen gaped. "Apheyr… was that a joke?"
She seemed completely astounded.
Apheyr smiled hesitantly.
*
The bells rang throughout Murann, as the first attack came, and whispers of awe spread through the ranks, as the three archmages stood together to defeat it single-handedly. Apheyr, Imoen and Nalia stood side by side, unleashing clouds of death magic, billowing flames, ice storms, tornadoes, swarms of insane gibberlings, flies summoned and controlled by magic, earthquakes, fireballs… every spell in their repertoire was unleashed, and ranks of humanoids just disappeared in a cascade of colours and magic that had not been seen in Amn for centuries.
When the smoke cleared, the enemy had withdrawn out of the range of spells, with perhaps four thousand dead… but that was a long way from two hundred thousand, and that night, as the three slept, recovering their strength, catapults from the enemy launched barrels of pure oil into the city…
And as they slept, the northern sector of Murann burned to cruel white ash.