The Serpent and the Crown Page 8

  Jankaro was tested for accuracy with a bow, and upon demonstrating his skill, was positioned atop the front of the outside wall with many of the other civilian forces, a mix of Calixians, Dorfinians, Caladonians and various tribesmen from the villages across the land. Several soldiers were positioned atop the wall, most notably Prince Titus who would initiate his command of the battle strategy from this position. No one doubted that the Cruxai would break through and enter the castle. Surely Titus had a fall back plan once this happened. Jankaro was given no instructions other than to wait at the top of the wall, bow and arrows at the ready.

  A mounted squadron of riders, led by Rafael, rode off into the hillsides to prepare to ambush the Cruxai from their rear flanks with the hope of killing a few Jurugas early in the fight. Other fighters were stationed in various locations throughout the city: On rooftops, inside buildings, and scattered throughout the city streets and inside the castle, equipped with a variety of snares and surprises to take every advantage possible against the enemy.

  Jankaro looked over at the young man positioned to his left. He sat silently with his eyes focused directly ahead. He looked over to the young man to his right, who took the opportunity to express himself. “Stationed here, we face certain death. Once they climb up these walls they will just keep pouring in. But from here we can kill many of them. They will be coming up their ladders and we can pick them off one by one. No one will remember us, but we will be heroes. The crown will hold our spirits beyond our deaths and the kingdom will be restored. Right here our blood falls in the highest sacrifice…” The youth went on with his impassioned speech as Jankaro imagined the battle that would ensue. But he imagined a different ending than the young man. He imagined survival. In victory or defeat, his one goal was to make it out alive.

  He waited with his gaze fixed on the horizon until he saw the first of the torches come into view. He heard the trumpets sound as the warriors all around him prepared for the attack. He watched as torch after torch came into view, and soon could see the bodies of the horde. It was a dark night and he could only see what the torchlight offered, but he could clearly make out the lizard horses and Jurugas towering above the rank and file. A jolt of fear shot up his spine as he watched the horde swell. The Cruxai seemed to go back forever.

  “Ready. Aim. Fire!” Titus shouted the command as Jankaro shot his first arrow toward the writhing mass. He forgot the rest of the world and leveled his intent upon halting the impending impact of the encroaching vile brood. “Fire at will!” Titus screamed.

  Jankaro launched arrow after arrow and as the Cruxai soldiers drew closer, he began to take aim at individuals. He didn’t watch to see if his arrows made contact or not. He just kept firing.

  Down below, the battering ram crashed into the gate. Right in front of Jankaro, a ladder slammed up against the wall. Many ladders crashed against the wall, and the other fighters dropped their bows and drew their swords and clubs to prepare for hand-to-hand combat. Sweat poured down his brow. From the corner of his eye he tracked the Cruxai as they climbed, and kept launching arrows until the last second, targeting the mounted enemy captains.

  Then the first of them was upon him. He looked into its eyes for the briefest of moments and saw their yellow irises glowing and spinning and sucking him in. An intense heat welled up within him, a deep feeling he had never known. He clenched his teeth and brought his sword down directly into its skull, bringing the intensity of his rage and split it wide open as its body went limp and fell to the ground below.

  They had noses, mouths and ears like humans. They were built like humans; similar height and weight. But their bodies were covered in scales, their tongues forked and reptile tails flopped behind them. Their eyes gleamed and spun, drawing some of the nearby soldiers into a trance to meet their fate.

  Up and up they came, and one after another Jankaro sliced away at them, not allowing them to reach the top of the ladder. His body burned and he longed to kill more of them. He steadfastly looked anywhere but their eyes as he fought with a rage he had never known.

  At last they broke through the gate and Cruxai poured through, racing toward the inner wall as the Galdean army ambushed them from the rooftops with a storm of stones and arrows. The Cruxai carrying the battering ram were targeted first, and as they fell, new lizard soldiers rushed to replace them. Other Cruxai units turned down the streets, eager to systematically destroy every last human left in the city. Galdean ambushes awaited them at every turn.

  Jankaro noticed his fellow defenders fall one by one as the Cruxai overtook the wall. Titus was nowhere to be found. The lizard soldiers began to close in on Jankaro as he struggled to hack them off the ladder and defend himself from the side at the same time.

  Eventually there were many Cruxai on the wall and few Galdeans. The enemy closed in from all around him. He was overwhelmed as he backed up toward the inner edge of the wall walk and climbed up on it. Some of their blows glanced his legs as he beat down on them from above. He was the last man on the wall and he knew he couldn’t hold on any longer. So he sheathed his sword, turned around, and jumped down towards the Cruxai horde below.

  He flung himself down onto the shoulders of the first of the Jurugas to enter the city, grabbing hold of the fleshy tubes that extended down its back. The Juruga reached back to grab Jankaro as he flopped about. He felt its giant hand wrap around his leg and pull as he clung to the fleshy tubes. In one swift motion, Jankaro reached down to his waist, pulled out his dagger, and plunged it into the Juruga’s neck. It gagged violently, ripped Jankaro off and flung him into the side of a building, his body crashing through a doorway. He watched from his back as the creature lurched forward and tumbled to the ground, pinning a few Cruxai soldiers beneath it.

  More Cruxai came through the doorway to attack him as Jankaro leaped to his feet and stood his ground, fighting them one by one. He battled them until their bodies formed a pile and they could no longer get through the doorway. He paused to catch his breath and listened for a moment as the warfare raged beyond the bloody pile in front of him. A tremendous pain jolted through his foot. He cried out and looked down to see that one of the Cruxai in the pile of bodies was still alive and had stabbed him with a short sword. Jankaro quickly hacked off the arm of the perpetrator and pulled the sword out of his foot. Then he drove his sword into the face of every Cruxai in the pile. He learned his lesson the hard way: to always make sure they were dead.

  He wondered what to do next when a flash of light lit up the corner of his eye and the roof burst into flames. The blaze tore a hole through the roof and continued to burn. Jankaro choked on the smoke as he pushed a table into the wall and climbed up through the flames that circled the expanding hole in the burning roof. Just before he dropped down the other side he remembered the tale of the man in the wagon who lost his hand. He held his foot over the flame to stop the bleeding and seal his wound. He clenched his teeth hard to keep from crying out in pain as the flames seared his flesh.

  He hung with his arms extended and dropped down the back wall of the building. Pain jolted up his leg as he dropped to the ground. His ears filled with the sounds of clashing metal, grunts of exertion and the gagging cries of the fallen. He knew that if he stayed anywhere near the flood of enemies pouring through the gates he would surely perish. He limped and hobbled toward the back of the city in terror.

  His moment of solitude did not last. The Cruxai were spreading quickly throughout the city, killing anyone they could find. The Galdeans ambushed them from the rooftops, only to be met by a flood of bloodthirsty reptile men that climbed over each other’s dead bodies to reach their enemy. The Cruxai had 10 soldiers for every Galdean. The outcome looked bleaker with every passing moment.

  The Cruxai poured into the city, meeting every clever Galdean ambush with greater numbers. Their bodies piled high but they kept fighting as arrows, vats of boiling oil, tripwires, collapsing floors and sharpened steel in the
hands of the Galdean elite all welcomed the Cruxai to their new home.

  Jankaro ran through the streets unable to find safety. He encountered Cruxai forces at every turn, battling them with his sword, suffering cuts and broken bones along the way as he pressed on. He formed alliances wherever he could, only to watch his brothers fall all around him. He saw a soldier trapped inside a building, trying to fight off eight Cruxai soldiers. Outside the doorway was a Cruxai captain mounted on a lizard horse.

  Jankaro caught the rider off guard as he plunge his sword into the heart of the lizard horse. It hissed as it fell and send the rider toppling to the ground. The rider got up and charged Jankaro as he yanked his sword free. Jankaro leaned on the skills he learned from Altamont as they battled in the street, slamming each other up against the sides of buildings. The rider was intent upon looking into Jankaro’s eyes, but he held fast, staring only at his chest. This rider relied too heavily upon his lizard horse and hypnosis technique, and soon found a sword buried in his stomach.

  Jankaro pulled his sword out, stabbed the Cruxai again to make sure he wouln’t get back up, and rushed into the building to help the soldier. When all of the Cruxai were defeated and thoroughly stabbed to death, he saw that it was Orion, one of the officers of the Galdean forces, and his first customer as Altamont’s delivery boy. He noticed Orion’s lower left leg was mangled. “Help me get out of here. Watch the door.”

  Jankaro guarded the door while Orion opened a small pouch that hung from his belt. He pulled out a stranded rope and cried out as he tightened it around his thigh. “This leg will have to go,” he said as he pulled a small stick from his pouch. “Come here,” he said to Jankaro. “Lean in close to me and smell this.” When Jankaro leaned in, he snapped the stick in half.

  Jankaro’s head jerked up as the spicy scent hit his nostrils. His body shook as a surge of vigor came over him. He was about to run back to the battle when Orion grabbed his shoulder and pulled himself up. “I can’t put weight on my leg. You must be my crutch.”

  Jankaro felt Orion’s weight, but the spice took away his pain and gave him strength. He guided Orion onto the street and thanked Sagaya that there were no Cruxai coming from either direction.

  “Back there,” Orion pointed. “See the dome? The temple of Orix. We can escape to the tunnels from there.”

  Jankaro walked quickly forward while Orion leaned on him and hopped on his good leg. In the back corner of the city it was quieter. The Cruxai hadn’t gotten back that far, and there were no Galdeans around either. They reached the domed temple and went around to the back door. A trumpet sounded from the castle, and was answered by trumpets from the two back towers of the city. Orion looked around to make sure no Cruxai could see them as they pushed the door open and went inside, met by darkness.

  “That was our signal to retreat,” said Orion, barely able to speak above a whisper. “Dorfin is theirs. But we have been preparing for this day for a long time, and we have created many secret tunnels through which we can escape. Only the soldiers know about them and we have all sworn not to use them if there are any Cruxai nearby who could see us enter. Come.”

  Orion dropped down to the floor on his hands and one knee and dragged himself slowly forward. He felt with his hands and found two loose stones in the floor. He lifted them and pushed them out of the way, then lowered himself into a tunnel below. He beckoned for Jankaro to hurry up and follow. Jankaro lowered himself into the dark cave and, at Orion’s urging, quickly slid the stones back into place.

  “I can’t see,” said Jankaro as fear came over him.

  “No Cruxai down here,” Orion whispered. “Just keep your ears open.” It was a small tunnel, not high enough for them to stand. He followed Orion’s slow pace as they crawled for a while. Finally the cave opened up into a larger cave where they could stand. The pain in Jankaro’s foot returned as he helped Orion to his feet and helped him walk. The light of torches danced on the walls of the cave as Galdean soldiers emerged from other smaller tunnels. Bloodied and beaten, they walked slowly, many of them with gruesome injuries. No one spoke.

  As the moments passed, the pain in Jankaro’s foot grew, until finally he collapsed under Orion’s weight. Some of the other soldiers came over to help, and two of them carried Orion together. Jankaro was slow to get up. His foot was throbbing, his body ached, and he vomited on the floor of the cave. He was about to lie down and sink into a deep sleep when one of the soldiers helped him to his feet. “Got to keep moving. They might find this cave. We need to get out of here before they do.”

  Jankaro knew they must be getting close to the exit of the cave when he saw two men dressed in unbloodied clothes pick up Orion and wheel him away in a cart. He saw many more of these carts come and pick up more of the soldiers who had been badly wounded. Soon thereafter, he saw the sunlight pouring down into the tunnel. He made his way out and in spite of his exhaustion, he could feel the sun’s rays nourish him. He collapsed on his back right there on the grass and dirt.

  He stared up at the blue sky for a while as his body began to stiffen. He drifted in and out of sleep as he heard the movement of the other soldiers coming out of the cave. Every now and then he heard cries of pain, but the sounds of hustle and bustle from the Galdean camp were soothing in relation to the sounds of war from the night before.

  Someone came to Jankaro and gave him a flask of water and he greedily drank it down like it was the best water he had ever tasted in his life. It was fresh and clean and revitalizing, with a hint of a sweet herb in it. He lay back down, relaxed even deeper on the surface of the earth and fell asleep.

  “Are you injured? Can you walk?” A young woman gently shook Jankaro’s shoulder and he propped himself up on his elbows. His foot throbbed in pain that shot all the way up his leg. He knew at some point he would need to take off his shoes and take a look. “Come on,” she said as she helped him to his feet and draped his arm over her shoulder. “It’s your turn to get treatment.”

  She took him over to one of the recovery tents, laid him down on a bed and gave him more water. After Jankaro had rested for a short time, a man appeared before him who looked more like him than most Galdeans: short, with dark skin, appearing as though he could be from the jungle. He was dressed all in white and his long, obsidian hair was tied off in back.

  “I’m glad to see you made it through, Jankaro. My name is Anhael. I am a medicine man. I will care for your wounded foot.” Anhael sat down at the foot of the bed and carefully cut the leather shoe off of Jankaro’s foot. “They said you killed a Juruga, which has never been done by anyone other than a soldier. Truly a mighty feat! And you saved Orion’s life and carried him on your back. You are a hero! I am sure they will want to make a soldier out of you.”

  Jankaro studied Anhael’s features. “You look like me, like you come from the jungle.”

  “Not many jungle folk like us around here. I come from Portonevo, just south of Caladon. The Cruxai destroyed my village when I was about your age. I was newly initiated into the ways of medicine, so I brought my knowledge of medicine plants to the Galdeans to help them with their war… that is, our war. I tend to the wounded and guide new soldiers through their initiation.”

  “I am from Olaya. Do you know of it?”

  “There are many towns and villages in this land. I am sorry I don’t know them all. So many pockets of culture and different people, all of them beautiful in their own way. Each one is a treasure. That is why we fight the Cruxai. To keep us alive. All the beauty of people… every life is precious. We must keep up the fight and protect every child.”

  Anhael’s eyes blazed, but he took a breath and returned his attention to Jankaro’s foot. He squeezed it and grimaced as pus came oozing out. Jankaro clenched his teeth and repressed a cry of pain.

  “The outside is clean, but I must clean out the inside of the wound with a potent herbal tonic. Cruxai blades are dirty, and fire alone will not
disinfect the wound. I need to open it up again.

  “Take this and chew on it.” Anhael offered Jankaro part of the stem of a plant. Jankaro bit down and began to absorb the juices. He watched as Anhael pulled out a long, slender, shiny steel knife and rubbed it down with oil. “The first one is quick. Keep chewing and don’t move your foot.” Jankaro braced himself for the pain. Anhael held his foot with one hand and swiftly slid the knife through Jankaro’s wound with the other, straight through the other side and then back out again. Pain surged up Jankaro’s leg but he held steady and bit down hard on the thick stem in his mouth. He watched the blood flow out of the wound in his foot. “We’ve got to let it bleed a little bit. Your own blood will cleanse the wound.” Anhael wiped away the blood with clean cloths as it streamed out. Jankaro felt light headed and his face turned pale. Anhael passed him a bottle. “Drink this.” The water was sweet, with little bits of plant matter floating in it.

  “The plants are our friends, our strengths, our teachers. If we didn’t have all of these plants to help us, we would be gone already. I’m going to put a poultice on your foot and wrap it. This is going to heal up fine. Keep drinking from that bottle.”

  Anhael reached his hands down into a bucket and pulled up a handful of mud composed of a mix of ground plant matter and applied it around Jankaro’s wound. Then he wrapped it up with several layers of white cloth. It was cool, and Jankaro could feel the healing energy of the plants rising up through the poultice and up through his foot to meet the herbal infused tonic water in his belly. For a moment he felt like a boy again, at one with the jungle, inhaling her sweet air, enveloped by her embrace.

  Anhael smiled. “It looks like the medicine is working. Get some rest now, Jankaro, we’re putting you on the next wagon for Caladon.”

  “Caladon? I thought we were going back to Calixo.”