21 - Siege

Sauren was stirred from his sleep by a dull, distant boom. His eyes fluttered open momentarily to blurred images then slowly slid closed again. Another boom; this time louder. Lazily he stretched. The tinkle of shattering glass brought him fully conscious. He groaned. His head hurt. His body hurt.

Next, a sharp, insistent knock sounded at his door followed by a vaguely familiar voice. "Master Sauren, you must get up! Your father has ordered you go to the main hall." When he did not reply, the voice called out his name again.

"Yes! I hear you," he growled.

BOOM! The outside noise continued. Pressing his hands on the mattress he pushed himself up and glanced over at the broken goblet. He must have fallen asleep still holding the glass after he'd finished the wine. He glared at the bottle on the bedside cabinet - it had only been half full, so how on Azeroth did he have a sore head? Dark embedded bruises answered his query. The beating he had taken, of course- a couple of well-aimed pounds to the head, that must be the cause, he reasoned.

Other sounds now reached up to the complex. Muffled screams, shouts, roars. He peeled the covers back and crossed to the windows, his aches and pains forgotten. Parting the drapes he looked out at the courtyard. The elites were assembling in the centre and staff were running around in what seemed like an organised panic. What was going on?

He saw his father striding towards the troupe, a fierce determination written on his weathered features. Acute though his hearing was, at this range and from behind a window Sauren's ability did not grant him privy to his father's words. Nonetheless, he could sense the urgency by Sa'themar's articulated movements and stern facial expressions. Something major was happening.

Again he heard the dull booms. His attention was drawn towards the portcullis and out over the city. He narrowed his eyes, straining to see the main gates in the distance. Dark plumes of smoke hung thick in the air, looming above the ramparts and gate tower. A fearful realisation dawned on him. The city was under siege.

Quickly he moved across the room. In a separate compartment within his wardrobe, he stored custom-made armour, another gift from his father. First, he pulled on britches, a shirt and boots then strapped the protective leather on - a harness, pauldrons, couters, bracers and greaves. Added to that, arm, leg and body scabbards in which he sheathed a full set of throwing knives as well as his chosen daggers. They had intricate feeders for poison should one wish to lace the blades. They were, nonetheless, effective enough without added venom - insanely sharp, lethal. The final touch was a black bandanna which kept his long hair tied back. Armoured and bladed to the teeth he left his rooms with purpose in his stride.

At the bottom of the spiral steps, he noted Don and Reed had taken the liberty of preparing themselves for battle too. The three armoured rogues greeted each other with a simultaneous nod, their faces displaying the prototypical expressions of men going to war - severe, determined and masking a respectable quantum of fear.

They approached the elites who were readying to move out. One or two turned as their leader's eyes focused on the three boys nearing the troupe. Sa'themar's jaw tightened. He muttered orders to Brett, Lina and Yathas then moved around the rogues to face his son. In a flinty tone, one word fell from his lips. "No!" His eyes flared, the authority unquestionable.

Sauren was not one to challenge his father, but in this his recalcitrance was unshakeable. He gestured that they move from those nearby for more privacy. "Yes, father," he began adamantly as they halted a few yards away. "I will defend what you have laboured to build and also that of the city which I call home."

The high elf was momentarily caught off guard, his eyes flitting to the other two boys a few yards back who aired equal contumacy. His voice still tight, he leaned in towards Sauren. "You are just a boy..."

"Older than you were when you started to fight, father." Sauren's eyes never blinked, a measure of temerity reaching out through his judgement call.

"That was different," Sa'themar argued.

"Yes. But, with respect, you fought for a foothold in another nation's land and established a new home, one which you have continued to defend since. And you fought even harder for a life here with mother and then me. So, I am going to fight for what is rightfully mine, father, and you will not stop me."

Sa'themar stepped back, lost for words. Yet again, his son had displayed a maturity beyond his years. That did not, however, waive his fear of losing the one person who meant the world to him.

Sauren was aware of his concern. He stepped forward absentmindedly laying a comforting hand on his father's forearm. "You knew this day would come. I am destined to follow in your footsteps and I will do so to the best of my ability. To stop me now would be denying me that right."

Sa'themar closed his hand over Sauren's. With a forced but whimsical smile, he assented with a resigned nod. "At least you are better dressed for the occasion this time," he said taking in the black and silver-threaded leather armour.

The half-elf smiled. "Yes, well, I thought it was time to bring it out for something more than just an airing."

The guild leader guffawed, then once more serious, he looked at his son. "You will partner up with me."

"It will be an honour, father."

"And tell your goons to stay close and follow our lead." He nodded towards Don and Reed.

Sauren smirked. "I think you may be pleasantly surprised by my ...goons."

"I will be - if they stay alive." His asteism did not go unnoticed and Sauren could not help but grin. It was oddly encouraging to find his father maintained a scintilla of humour even in the wake of war. Sa'themar nodded then made haste to the front of the troupe again.

Turning to his two friends Sauren advised them what was going to happen. In those few moments, the three boys adorned the mantle of men prepared to defend and fight for the city and their guild.

A series of whirring and sloshing noises drowned startled gasps from staff who still dashed about the complex in a bid to preempt an effective barricade from the pending assault. Watery specks expanded, intensifing as portals manifested around the inner perimeter. Magi, including Bloodmages from Quel'danas and priests, emerged from the magical transports all wearing armour ready for battle.

Don swallowed. "This really is going to be fierce," he commented.

His friends agreed. "I have never seen conjurers so heavily armoured before," Reed added, his face betraying a degree of apprehension.

The three boys watched as Belo'vir Salonar and a female Bloodmage approached the guild leader. The woman acknowledged the Firefurys and Brett before engaging in conversation with Sa'themar.

Remaining behind the main troupe so as not to be detected eavesdropping, Sauren inconspicuously honed in on the new arrivals and his father. "Treason?" Belo'vir enquired.

The guild leader nodded. "Yes. We heard through the network about an hour ago. King Aiden has aligned himself with the Horde. He allowed them uncontested access through the mountains..." He glanced in the direction of the city gates. "And now they are trying to take over the city."

The Bloodmage then spoke. "We had hoped to bring the Alliance army with us, but, they, with our Rangers and magi, are still rooting out the few orcs left and the Amani who were involved in the attack on Silvermoon. They will, however, get here as soon as circumstances allow them."

"What of King Terenas?" Belo'vir asked next.

Sa'themar hooked his thumbs in his belt loops. "He has been advised of Perenolde's betrayal and against council, he has now positioned himself on the battlements."

"To do what, exactly?" the woman asked, her voice thick with scorn.

Wearing a hesitant grin, the guild leader explained. "He is a master at inciting his people, Lady Liadrin. He will easily put it to them that this city and their livelihoods are dependant on their ability to defend. They will fight to their last breath if need be. Soldiers are at the ready, certain defence measures were already taken care of and engines of war are being prepped to push back the invaders."

"Fairly well, then," Belo'vir voiced. "We will aid you in this defence until the Alliance armies arrive at least."

Sa'themar expressed his gratitude with a curt nod. "I thank you for your quick response and coming to our aid, but what of Quel'thalas?"

The Magister guffawed. "The worst seems over for the time being but our aspiring magus, Dar'khan, is maintaining its conservation by ensuring the magical wards are intact. Thankfully, the shields have not been breached."

Sauren cocked an eyebrow as he noted the dismissive expression on the Bloodmage's beautiful face. It would seem she was not a fan of the flamboyant Dar'khan Drathir. Conversation was over, it was time to make fast the defence of Capital City.

He shifted back beside his friends as the troupe once more readied to leave the complex. More portals then opened, these merely to transport the rogues and their allies to the front lines.

Sa'themar made one last stop, instructing the senior staff to barricade the students in the main hall. Should the complex be breached they were to utilise the underground passages which would lead them to safety out towards Silverpine Forest. He awaited confirmation of their understanding before leading the rogues through the transports.

Belo'vir brought up the rear of the portal in which Sauren and his two sidekicks entered. "Well, we meet again, Sauren. Once more to the fray is it?"

The half-elf smiled and inclined his head. "Indeed, Magister. It will be the first of many from now on I dare say."

"I have no doubt of that. And judging by your conviction as well as your obvious verisimilitude I do declare you shall do your father proud."

The half-elf missed a stride. He cleared his throat, notably astonished by such an accolade from one whom he had only met once before. "That is most generous of you Magister, although perhaps somewhat premature. We are not well enough acquainted for you to form such an opinion of me."

Belo'vir chuckled. "You are as your father was when he was your age, Sauren, so in that respect, I can boast that I know you very well indeed." With a paradigmatic flourish, the Magister closed the portal behind them. "Shall we?" He gestured forward.

The rogues, magi and priests moved through soldier units posted to afford the most effective line of defence behind the city walls. There were already countless injuries and the siege was only in its infancy - barely more than two hours had passed since the first fireball had hit the battlements. The ramparts had held fast against the steady stream of missiles fired at them, but the Horde being pertinacious and bloodthirsty would inevitably cause massive damage to the fortifications. Their relentless need to conquer and rule was disquieting at its best.

Apart from those people rallied to fight following their King's motivational speeches, the city streets had been evacuated. The majority, including the children and elderly, had been moved deeper into the metropolis for their safety, although dependant on how long the siege lasted, they could be required to leave as rations could become scarce. A few families had managed to flee the city just prior to the Horde's assault starting, but it was already rumoured their bodies littered the fields and roads leading to the main gates. They may even have become some of the Horde's innovative and unidentifiable missiles.

Littered in the streets were other burnt bodies. Creatures such as sheep, cows, darkhounds, even the odd wolf and bear lay broken, bloodied and blackened in the streets and city gardens. It appeared the orcs were not discriminating in their choice of ammunition for their catapults. These, combined with several fireballs had managed to reap havoc on the buildings within their range. Business premises, entire dwellings, even some festival stalls were set ablaze and people were running back and forth to the wells trying to douse the fires.

The smell of burning wood, coal, oil and gunpowder hung heavy in the air. Mixed with the amaroidal stench of the burning corpses it soon caused the rogues' eyes to water, chests burn, throats and noses to dry and nip. Sauren pulled off his bandanna. Folding it once more he tied it around his mouth and nose to afford some protection against the acrid air. He witnessed others doing similarly.

Brett, Lina and Yathas led their squads towards the main defences, Sa'themar reminding them to proceed with caution. Belo'vir sent a few of the healers to assist any medics with tending the injured, then ordered his mages and remaining priests to join the rogues.

Hearing his name being called, Sauren hurried over to his father, Don and Reed in quick pursuit. He followed Sa'themar who picked his way through the corpses and debris towards the military units. Glancing up at the defence wall, he saw the Lordaeron banners rippling in the breeze; their fabric greyed from the thick smoke and tattered at the edges where fire-laden ammunition had skiffed them as they had hurtled over the walls. Moving back and forth, an armour-clad figure amid a dozen others was watching the enemy from the crenellations around a parapet. Archers stood, backs against merlons, awaiting the order to fire.

The Horde catapults continued their assault, the dull, heavy booms of missiles hitting the outer walls and battlements. Flaming hay bales, more corpses, and massive boulders battered the inner city claiming some of the defenders as they showered down into the pulverized streets.

Skilled tradesmen were hard at work building tall wooden structures with operating platforms and pulleys. These were being trundled into place along the base of the defending wall and lifting the cargo of oil barrels and huge cauldrons to the top of the battlements.

Ballistae were primed and already firing atop the parapets, huge iron-tipped arrows being stockpiled into barrel-like containers by their sides. They hit their targets, causing enough damage to make the orcs regroup elsewhere and again the giant crossbows fired. Their impact was destined to be short-lived, however, as the enemy counterattacked with more powerful machines.

The smaller, more mobile military crossbows, springalds, were already in position. Placed in a large arc formation in front of the main gate tower they would cut down large numbers of the enemy should the barricades fail and the orcs invade the city.

Sauren could not help but wonder, however, how much of this weaponry would still be operational amid all the flaming ammunition bombarding the city.

Dodging the fires and consequential buckets of water being thrown, Sa'themar and his troupe made haste to the stairs which led to the battlements. Climbing two or three steps at a time the leader of the Crimson Blade ascended quickly with Sauren following close behind. Reaching the top, they slowed as they neared the pacing armoured figure. The man turned as the shuffle of many feet graced the stone platform.

Wearing no helm the aged man was otherwise clad in full battle armour. The rising thermals from the fires below blended with the summer breeze and made his wispy hair weft and warp around his plain silver crown. Blue eyes crinkled at the corners as he greeted Sa'themar, his mouth set in a tight smile of welcome.

The guild leader bowed deep, respectfully acknowledging the man's station. "Your Majesty." Sauren mirrored his father. Glancing askance, he noted all the rogues and their accomplices did likewise.

"Sa'themar," King Terenas replied, striding towards him. "As always, I knew I could count on you and your men."

A cough was heard from within the troupe. The king looked at the assembled rogues, his eyes lingering on female assassins long enough to let them know he was well aware of their gender. A small, somewhat pedantic smirk toyed with the corners of his lips. He turned his attention back to the guild leader, refusing to address the female members in any other manner than that which he had just uttered. With the formalities clearly over, the rogues all straightened again.

Sauren had only ever seen the king from a distance, normally with his beautiful queen at his side and amid pomp and circumstance that went with such sightings. There were rumours, however, that the royal head of the Menethil bloodline was inclined to be dismissive of his wife and daughter. Any female for that matter; and those whispers had just been confirmed in Sauren's opinion. Perhaps the queen's dalliances, therefore, were understandable, he mused.

As if he had heard his thoughts, Terenas turned to Sauren. The half-breed was not perturbed by the monarch's calculated scrutiny. He met it with an assured equanimity.

Terenas' eyes flitted to the high elf. "Your son?"

"Yes, Your Majesty. This is my boy."

Sauren expected for the king to address him next, but instead, he continued with a comment to Sa'themar. "To have a son fight by your side has to be the proudest moment in a father's lifetime," the king said.

The guild master appeared lost for words. Sauren, well aware of the fear which gnawed at his father's heart quickly reacted to save face. "I am sure your son will wield a sword for you one day, Your Majesty." He ended with a small incline of his head.

King Terenas' stoic disposition faltered slightly as his eyes betrayed a very personal Utopian dream. He acknowledged Sauren's comment with the barest of nods before resuming discussions on tactics with the guild leader.

He led him forward to the parapet's perimeter and from behind the merlons Sa'themar witnessed the Horde's war machine first hand. The guild master surveyed the land before him, taking in the defence system already deployed by the Alliance monarch. He peered over the wall and along to the gate tower. He grinned. Earth and boulders had been compacted against the outer walls preventing the siege towers from reaching the fortifications thus denying the enemy access with their ladders. It would serve as a deterrent for while anyway. From behind the enemy front lines, an armour covered construct moved slowly forward, concealing the orcs who marshalled it. At its nose, a battering ram cut no doubt from the ample forests surrounding the city. The landscape with its many dips, troughs and variable inclines would at least hinder the ram's progress a little.

Catapults, large cog and rope mechanisms, weapons designed for launching boulders, firestones and rubble at outer walls continued their barrage. It took time, however, to reload and rewind the ropes until they could fire again. This was a small but perhaps significant advantage for the Alliance.

Sa'themar suddenly became aware Sauren was standing next to him. He glanced at his son, noting the determined set of his jaw, the clenching of impatient fists, his readiness to fight. He could tell his son was also calculating the weapons trajectory and re-arming times.

Their eyes continued to study the battlefield. Behind the catapults stood massive trebuchets. These powerful and longer reaching ballistic devices were the ones launching the fire-riddled missiles over the city walls. Squinting his eyes the guild leader could see the Horde were arming the reinforced slings with flaming carcasses and burning hay bales. "They will try to destroy us from within," he aimed at the king but said it loud enough for the benefit of his son and the rogue troupe.

"Yes. They will try." The king gestured to the people below, resolute in his belief that they would successfully defend the city.

"And while we are busy trying to salvage a few insignificant buildings, the Horde are cracking open our defences," Sauren said.

A preternatural silence befell the parapet, the surrounding noise of battle strangely muffled from the weight of the monarch's stare. The troupe stood silent, stunned at the boy's boldness. The guild leader looked to his son but no reprimand or reminder of protocol resided in his azure eyes, only a burning question needing a swift answer. Sauren did not disappoint. Looking back over the wall he explained. "I see orcs with shovels and picks along the base of the wall. By all accounts, it would seem they are attempting to carve a way through the constructed mound to gain access for their siege towers."

King Terenas' face remained impassive with just a hint of intolerance lacing his mouth. "Of course they are, but it will take them a long time to achieve that."

Sauren lifted his eyes to the king. "Mayhap, Your Majesty. But, considering the advantage such tactics would gain for the enemy, I question why there are so few equipped for this task. They have in way of four such contraptions on this side alone, each capable of granting unlimited enemy numbers to scale our walls when they reach them. Yet, under a canopy of enemy shields, there are many more glinting pickaxes and shovels near the gate tower."

Sa'themar and a number of his troupe looked down at the city's entrance. Sauren was not mistaken, and his observation was readily understood by both his father and the king. Terenas shouted an order for the oil cauldrons to be readied above the gate tower and his archers to fire flaming arrows on his command.

"Sire?" Sauren said, drawing the king's attention. "May I suggest a secondary means of defence?"

The king eyed the half-elf with a modicum of admiration. "Speak."

"Meet them from within."

The king stood rigid, staring at him. Sauren continued with judicious regard to deflect any suspicion of how he attained certain knowledge. "I would imagine there must be some sort of labyrinth beneath this city, surely? From my studies, I believe it is commonplace for a monarch's realm to have a means to escape underground. I am also assuming the orcs will either not have thought of this or, have not yet found any other way in, hence they're attempting to mine under the outer gates." He risked a glance at his two friends before casting his eyes over the assembly as if innocently searching for commendation.

"Smart boy," the king said finally. He turned to Sa'themar. "I must congratulate you on having such a learned and astute son."

The parapet shuddered as yet another series of missiles hit the stone wall. Some of the crenellations were hit directly and started to crumble, the dust and rubble skittering across the ground where the ballista continued to fire, its sisters joining in the assault all along the defending wall.

Cauldrons were tipped on engineered platforms, emptying their slick and flammable substance over orcs nearest the outer wall. An order was issued. Archers lit their oil-soaked arrowheads on the burning braziers and fired at the spilled oil, some catching light as it still poured down. Roars rose from the base of the wall and the burning orcs attempted to flee, arms flailing and knees buckling before the flames lay final claim to their bodies. This was answered by another barrage of unspeakable missiles from the Horde.

Atop the parapet, amid the deployment of fighters, soldiers, rogues and mages alike, father and son shared a knowing look. This was going to be a long and arduous battle.