ESKER XI

  Esker held mere fragments of wood in her hand, the piece of chair she was using as an improvised club had shattered against a guard’s helm.

  Guillaume’s plan had worked remarkably well, not only had the tortoises sown chaos through the ranks of the High King’s guards, it had the ancillary benefit of arming the Gaídel at her side. Most were now outfitted with either a shield or a spear, it was not a full compliment of arms, but vastly more effective than the improvised weapons scrounged from the banquet tables. The remnants of the tortoise provided an advantage as well, three of the tables had been flipped into the guard’s line, creating obstacles that the clumsily armored men could not easily traverse.

  King Brian’s warriors fortified chokepoints, working in tandem to fend off any advance: those with a shield dedicated themselves to defending spear-wielders. An unexpected result of the tortoises battering into the guard’s ranks was that it sent a message to those trapped in the hall: it was possible to fight back, even against overwhelming odds.

  More and more Gaídel guests of the feast rallied near Esker’s position, picking up the shield or the spear of any who were slain. It was an inspiring sight, the only problem was that they were running out of time.

  Esker craned her long neck to peer over the hundreds of panicked Gaídel between her and that horrid Jotman leader with the metal hands. Beneath his helm, his eyes burned with hatred as he savagely hacked through fleeing Gaídel with his long blade.

  The Jotman swordsman accompanying their leader fought with similar fervor, intent on carving their way towards the tortoises. She could not and would not allow herself to be at the mercy of Lord Osmond, or the cruel man who accompanied him, whose twin daggers flashed in the torchlight.

  Esker took a step back from the front lines, slipping out of the way of several spear thrusts. She needed a weapon, yet could not decide what would be most effective. If she still had both her arms, she could have lifted one of the tables that had once been part of the tortoise. With a single arm, she did not have enough leverage to do anything besides slide it across the floor. While looking down, an idea crossed her mind: it was not something she was proud of, but these were extenuating circumstances. She cleared space around her, ushering away the Gaídel who were eager to engage with the guards and bearing her pointy teeth at any who stared at her dumbly, or refused to move.

  Esker grabbed the body of one of the slain guards, draped nearly head to toe in clumsily forged mail, wrapping both of his feet in her large hand. The dead man’s helm slid about his head as she hefted him up and swung him in an arc, launching him into the rear of the guard’s line. The improvised projectile was extremely effective, less by how much it injured the guards and more due to how it disrupted their formation. It also caused nearby Gaídel to cheer and babble at her unintelligibly. Some of the same guests of the feast who had been scared of her earlier, now dragged bodies of the armored guards towards her. She became a living catapult.

  The combination of the pressure from the rear of the hall, where the Jotman swords were slaughtering Gaídel in a frenzy, and the formation of the High King’s guards showing vulnerability, led to a predictable outcome: the guests of the feast found the path of least resistance.

  The bravery and fearlessness with which the Gaídel fought impressed Esker. Initially the heavily armed and armored guards were like a wall of granite, crushing all in their path; after the twin tortoises had broken their lines and Esker had lobbed corpses of guards into their midst, they resembled porous sandstone.

  When at last the High King’s guards disciplined shield wall was fully shattered, the Gaídel in the hall flowed past them like pent up water released from a dam. The armored guards fought back viciously, yet the tide had turned and soon some began to flee. Their protective armor served to be their downfall, most were cut down from behind in vengeance, too slow to escape. The few who had made it to the exits at either end of the front of the hall found themselves as trapped as the guests, the heavy doors were barred from without.

  Esker waded through the feast’s guests as they gathered up fallen spears and shields. She considered arming herself with one of the slender Gaídel spears, yet it did not have an appropriate heft, so she passed it on.

  King Brian had survived the melee and, alongside his warriors, was locked in combat with a cluster of the guards. The battle had largely broken up into chaotic duels. Esker was grateful how differently the guards were adorned, otherwise it would be hard for her to tell the opposing Gaídel factions apart.

  A brilliant flash of light caught her attention and with dismay she saw that the largest concentration of the remaining High King’s guards swarmed around the tortoise that Guillaume and Liadan had traveled in. The guards had fortified themselves outwardly from the door in the corner of that part of the hall and were beginning to surround Esker’s friends, and the Gaídel who accompanied them, in a pincer formation.

  When Esker bellowed with concern, King Brian turned towards her and she pointed with a long finger towards the besieged tortoise, forcing her way through the packed guests with furious strides. Brian rallied his warriors and as others took their place to force back the nearest guards, rushed along with Esker.

  Atop the dais she saw a curious sight: Eógan walked above with a spear in one hand and a chain of blind hostages in the other. Their eyes met briefly and Esker could see that the concern on his face mirrored her own.

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  Another flash of white light emanated from Liadan, repulsing a handful of guards: however, there were too many and too many spears were being thrust from different directions. The Gaídel accompanying Liadan sacrificed themselves for her, throwing themselves in the way of deadly blows. Esker was now close enough to see the anguish on Liadan’s face, knowing her friend well enough to understand the sorrow that she felt at being unable to protect those around her.

  Guillaume was nowhere to be seen and Esker’s heart began to pound in her temples. The roar of the room hushed and a fury burned within her like the heart of a forge. She could feel the stones of the floor and ceiling speaking to her. She knew that if she wanted to, she could bury everyone present and turn this hall into a tomb.

  Esker considered what a gift it would be to the world if she rid it of monsters like Lord Osmond and Sir Marin: however, trading so many lives, including those of her friends, was a price that she was not willing to pay. Who was she to be the arbiter of who lived and who died? Esker knew in her heart that such decisions were not her role in life and her soul ached for those who bore such a heavy responsibility.

  There were other, less dramatic, ways with which she could manipulate the stone around her, but these powers were too new and poorly understood for her to risk exploring them in the midst of so many innocent people. However, that did not mean she was unable to help her friends, she was still a force to be reckoned with.

  The guests of the feast kept their distance from the bristling formation of guards and that gave Esker the room to lumber into a run. She stooped to grab the foot of a fallen guard and his mail rasped across the floor as she swung him up and into an arc. This time Esker did not throw the corpse, she used her long reach to hammer it into the leftmost point of the guards’ claw-like array around the tortoise.

  Bones crunched and the impact jarred Esker’s arm as she released the foot. Two of the guards were sent flying into their fellows and that portion of their ranks became more focused on bracing against their weight, instead of fighting. Brian and his warriors seized the moment and hammered into the staggering guards. Brian and many of those who accompanied him were grievously injured, yet they fought as if they felt no pain, quickly overwhelming the guards whose resolve began to waiver.

  With fewer spears threatening her, Liadan was able to focus a wedge of her protective white hot energy. It sent guards clambering backwards, their armor red hot when it contacted her spectral shield.

  To Esker’s relief, Guillaume emerged relatively unharmed from within the tortoise and was holding a shield. Eógan had already joined guests from the feast on the other side of the tortoise, battling ferociously with their spears and causing the guards’ ranks to constrict.

  “We must hurry!” Esker called out to Liadan as she looked back and saw how close the Jotman were with their bloody swords, they were now well past the middle of the hall and closing quickly.

  Liadan stepped forward, maintaining the burning white shield that emanated from her outstretched palm. “Lay down your arms,” she commanded the guards. “You will be forgiven for your sins against your own people and allowed to leave.” The last part of her command was not well received by the guests of the feast, grumbles turned to murmurs and spread like wildfire. One of the guards called back to Liadan in Gaídel and she responded, “I swear upon the Broken Man and the Holy Mother Miriam that your lives will be spared. I will ask you once more.” Her eyes flared with holy energy. “LAY. DOWN. YOUR. WEAPONS!” Her voice had so much power behind it that Esker could see the guards in front of her reel from its force.

  There was a long pause, it felt as if everyone nearby was holding their breath.

  All of a sudden the guards stirred, cascading from in front of Liadan like ripples in a pool, they shook off their shields and dropped their spears to the floor. The guests of the feast rushed forward, Brian and his warriors among them, menacing the guards who had surrendered. Liadan’s eyes flashed more with energy and true to her word, none of the guards were cut down.

  At the opposite end of the dais, the outcome was different; both sides were locked in bloody combat. From the center of the room panicked waves of Gaídel fled from the Jotman’s advance, there was risk of a stampede and not enough space for so many people.

  Esker strode towards the surrendering guards, directly towards the barred door behind them. They parted, trembling as she passed. Guillaume and Liadan were joined by Eógan, who was in turn trailed by a chain of hostages, all holding hands.

  Cramming themselves against the walls and each other, the guards cleared passage to the doorway, eyes fixed on Esker and her companions. “Is there a key?” Esker asked as she grasped the latch of the door and tried to push it open. It did not budge.

  Liadan questioned the nearby guards, who only shook their heads. “They say it is barred from without. We must find a way to force it open.” The thick wood of the door was banded with iron and sturdily constructed: spears would be useless tools to damage it.

  “Could we use the tortoise as a battering ram?” Guillaume asked.

  “I believe this door would resist that force and we do not have the time to experiment,” Esker replied grimly. “Step back, please.” The door was set into a frame of stone blocks, expertly fitted. She reached out with her stone sense to perceive how the blocks were mortared, the gaps where the door hinges were set. She also sensed movement on the other side of the door, many sets of boots weighted down with armor. “Be ready, there are others waiting in ambush.”

  Eógan grinned, “I was counting on it.” He readied his spear while Liadan focused the energy in her body onto glowing palms. Guillaume braced himself and raised his shield, taking a long look at the carnage in the hall.

  Esker traced the outline of the doorway, feeling the history of the stone used to construct it, understanding it intimately. With her fingers extended, her hand sunk to the wrist on the right side of the door, above the latch. She pushed the entire block through to the other side.

  While voices cried out in alarm from the opposite side of the door, Esker repeated the gesture to the left side of the door. This time she clenched her fist while it was within the stone and drew the block back towards her. It left a gaping hole that revealed countless guards with their shields and spears raised.

  With the block of stone hanging heavy on her hand, Esker wound her arm back and punched the door as hard as she could. The entire door, with the wooden bar still attached to it and not the masonry, flew to the opposite end of the hallway, crushing many of the guards. Eógan was first through the doorway, followed by Brian and his warriors. Esker felt an immense fatigue as a result of using her geomancy and began to sag. Guillaume lifted her in an embrace, as Gaídel poured past them and out of the hall.