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Chapter Twenty-Six: The Approaching Storm"Is this all we have?" Arcanum stared at the rows of glistening and polished catapults lined up in front of the Eastern Courtyard.
"One-hundred and forty-four of our remaining stock." Engineering Corp Chief Asa Tirium pulled out a notebook and nudged his spectacles with an oil-stained finger. "Olgier Grove timber, at least what is left. You know that they burned it down?"
"We came through that way, but we didn't see anything at night. Although the smell in the air was terrible." Arcanum touched the smooth carapace of the closest catapult. "You made some changes."
"Ten years is a very long time." Tirium tapped the curved arm of the catapult, "Steel exoskeleton, reinforced struts, and an overhauled winch system. My pride and joy, the best that Manetheren can offer." He eyed Arcanum through his specs like an owl, "And you'll need it. And it might not be enough. These are straight from the shop, built on rush order, and entirely untested in battle."
"My men will pick these up tonight, Asa, and I think-" Before Arcanum could finish, the ground shook underneath their feet, and pieces of the Palace wall showered the ground from above.
"Bloody probe attacks are getting more and more frequent." Tirium dusted off his shirt and picked up his notebook. "They've been testing our defenses for months. The Aes Sedai are shielding us pretty well, though I've been hearing rumors that they're leaving to-morrow. Nasty pieces of news, if true."
"How many Dreadlords?"
"Six plus the Traitor." Tirium adjusted his spectacles, "With the exceptions of these hit-and-runs, they mostly stick to the opposite side of the Tarendelle."
"Seven. Aren't we lucky?" Arcanum breathed out. One was bad enough. The most he had ever fought before were three at Tourak's Peak, and the Band barely limped out, an experience Arcanum never wanted to repeat. But seven? Arcanum could not imagine the aftermath of the devastation.
"So this is why we cannot fight them here." Arcanum realized. "We cannot defend Manetheren while perched on its walls. With seven Dreadlords in view of the city, they would tear us to pieces. We must not let the Horde get within sight."
"You are right. We have learned a painful lesson. They did that at Shanaine-tearing down the city, defenders and all. We had two Aes Sedai but it wasn't enough. The survivors thought the world was ending, and who is to say that they were wrong? The ground split, and the walls toppled as if they were children's block toys. That cannot happen here with the thousands upon thousands of women and children huddling below what is essentially paper-thin roofs." He made a grimace. "I was there, you know. Me and the entire fleet of veteran and hardened cats. Three-hundred crews of our best and brightest, ready to throw back the entire tide. And before even one shot was fired, the ground was rent, and the entire Manetheren fleet was swallowed by the Earth." He paused, lost in thought. "I was buried in that rubble for three days. I could barely hear the din of battle around me-above me-as the Horde savaged through the broken city, laying waste to the survivors. Then, even that faded away, and I was trapped in silence, wondering when I would die or, better yet, if I was dead. On the third day, I heard voices above me, faint but human, and I called out with my remaining strength. Then the debris above me shifted and rustled and sunlight stabbed into my eyes, and I felt fresh air fill my dust-choked lungs once more. I was dug up by the Grand-Legion of the Tarendrelle, scouring the wreckage for survivors. It was three long days that I never wish to relive. The Horde has passed on, of course. We were-we were like an insect that thought itself safe in its armor, until a giant cracked open the shell and plucked out the flesh, leaving a hollow carcass drying in the sun. We were just something that was in the way."
The engineer chief then upended a wineskin in his mouth, and offered it to Arcanum. The general drank from it and tossed it back. The engineer caught it and gazed up at the sky, and tried to lighten the tone, "Almoren Red. I bet you boys never got anything like that up in the North."
"No we didn't." Arcanum agreed, and sat down on the chassis of the catapult.
"Well, that was when we realized that we were sadly out of our league. We could chisel slowly away at them with hit-and-run, but would not make any noticeable difference before the Horde reached Victa Manetheren. That was the precise moment. That was when Aemon sent a cadre of the strongest of his own Heart Guard on the swiftest blood stallions. It was a gamble, but if we were going to stare our own doom in the eyes, then we need every man we can find, especially the illustrious Band of the Red Hand."
Raindrops begin to fall from the sky, drumming softy against the paved ground. There was distant thunder that echoed faintly. People rushed by the Eastern Gates, trying to find shelter before the heavy storm began. A group of large, huddled shapes shuffled across the gates, towering over the rest.
Tirium followed Arcanum's eyes, "There are many different survivors. That's the batch of Ogiers left in Manetheren. After the Grove burned. Now they just meander purposeless through the city. And who can blame them? You know how much they loved the Grove. It is as much of their home and heritage as their Stedding. They say home is where the heart is, and they look like those who have lost heart completely. "
Arcanum watched as the Ogiers shambled slowly into the Palace. One of them raised a head, and looked forlornly at the two men, then turned and entered the palacial arches. "How did you survive until we arrived?"
"The question of the year." Tirium jerked the canvas tarp over the top of the catapult, covering it from the rain. "Be the commander. You have two Grand-Legions against a body of Shadowspawn ten times their size, with seven dreadlords-and perhaps more. And darker whispers of a Master. The only city in their path to Manetheren has just been leveled, along with the entire fleet of veteran siege engines and two expert Aes Sedai. One week's straight march and they will be at the walls of Manetheren."
"The Marena Line." Arcanum realized suddenly.
"Yes, she was barely a trench when you left, but now...Now, it's fifty leagues of fortified battle works and solid, earthen stockades, and pitted with razor traps, placed on the likeliest route of invasion. One company of men could hold off an entire legion for eternity, and not even this Horde could smash through in less than a season's time. And protected against anything the Dreadlords can conjure. I helped design it and I helped build it. After ten years of construction, she was now ready to halt the Black Flood."
"And what happened? Did she?"
Tirium grimaced, "They are smarter and wilier then we give them credit. They never even attempted the Marena Line. The Horde circled around, passing across the Line to the east, and arching around to strike at Manetheren from the southeast, where Marena did not cross. We did not expect them to do anything but strike us directly from the north, and this came as a surprise. But, even so, they lost time and Trollocs as they circled around, harried by our Legions on their flanks. We scrambled to react, to somehow throw something in their path. Then, we saw Jara'Copan, right in the corridor. We needed to stall them there. We were willing to sacrifice an entire Grand-Legion if we had to.
"We evacuated Jara'Copan and bunkered two Legions of volunteers inside, as we worked feverishly to shore up our Southern defense. I was in charge of the city's forces, a rag-tag bunch of decade old stone-throwers and melted down copper pots. We were desperate alright, and knew we probably weren't going to survive after what happened at Shanaine."
The rain increased in tempo, beating down its steady cadence. Both men were now entirely soaked, the water cascading down their cloaks in rivulets. A bright flash of lightning illuminated the courtyard, followed by the thunderclap that drowned out Tirium's voice.
"...a final gambit. Assuming that the Seven don't tear down the walls again. And we were lucky; it was not a second Shanaine. Perhaps they were saving their energy for the capital, or were still recovering from the first city. While the Horde hammered against Jara'Copan, the earth did not swallow us whole. And they could not simply leave the city standing, not with a hostile fortress at their flanks to chew up their numbers. Jara'Copan became our bait. Every night, the defenders began to sneak out the mud gates in squads. For almost a month as a skeleton crew and I remained in the greatest bluff that we had ever created. And it worked. Caldazar was surely flying above us. When the Inner gates were finally broken, and the Trollocs swarmed in, there were but two scores of soldiers manning the keep's defense, scurrying out through the tunnels at the last minute."
Tirum chuckled dryly. "I could remember running the last gauntlet after lighting the match to the final surprise. Jara'Copan was now filled with Trollocs and empty of men. And every stone in that city was soaked with naph and brew. There was no stopping that inferno once the fuse was lit. It was a tomb for the Horde that day. Jara'Copan made everything possible, this brand new fleet and the survival of Victa Manetheren until your arrival. Everything is in its place for tomorrow, bound in the Creator's will."
"Almost too perfect." Arcanum breathed into the rain. "I do not think this storm will let tonight. Or tomorrow. It feels...unnatural." A flash of lightning arched down, almost simultaneously with its thunder, striking onto a spire of the palace. Darkness quickly took back the night, but Arcanum's gaze was still locked onto the glimmering spire where the lightning bolt had coursed through, and an idea formed.
Tirium took another swag from his wineskin, "I think you're right about the storm, General. I can feel it deep inside my bones."
"My friend, I fear that this is just the face of a stronger storm. And we must use all our ingenuity and resources these coming days if we do not want to be swept away."
פּצּפּצּפּצּפּצּפּצּפּצּפּצּפּצּפּצּפּצּפּצּפּצּפּצּפּצּפּצּפּצּפּצּפּצּפּצּ