137 Inevitability (1/2)
Eyes focused into the swamp, on the powers of fate before him, Wayra's hands clutched the wood of the watchtower's windowsill. While the bloated wood's moisture seeped into his fingers, so did fear seep into his heart. A heavy breath banished the demons for the moment. At least for now, he was still the master of Harkay. He would have to set an example for the others. ”That looks like trouble,” the master said in a calm tone. ”Where is our messenger?”
”Still not back,” a voice behind him turned somersaults. ”What do we do about this?”
Wayra eyes met with the ocean of enemies. The red of their armors marked them as warriors, men of real power. Up until now he hadn't known there were this many warriors in Sachay. Above the troops flew banners in colors he had never seen in his life. Smoke and drums spoke of the imminent attack. All day their ears and noses had been filled with the sounds of war, and it had already drained the defenders of their wills. In front of this force, their little commoner uprising would be powerless, as they had always been. Rather than deal with the army straight out of fantasy, he would focus on more manageable tasks.
”What about Governor Mayu?”
”No, Wayra. No message from the other lords either.” Again his closest friend squeaked. In truth, the lord wanted to do the same.
”Damn.” His fist slammed into windowsill and sent a rain of droplets to the ground. ”what are those lords doing? Didn't they say they'd support us against Saniya? They can't just leave us out to rot!”
For a while his friend paused, intimidated by Wayra's anger. This was an unusual look for the new lord. After all, they hadn't made him leader because he was the angriest among them.
”Maybe they have been delayed due to the pressure from Saniya's new king?” his friend stuttered out after a short delay.
”Bastard!” he shouted again, eyes jutted out towards the vicious king's armies. ”Those noble beasts must be laughing as they watch us squeal!”
”You think the other lords lured us into the city on purpose,” the voice whispered behind him. Even though he couldn't control his emotions, Nawy was a clever guy. Of course he'd understand his friend's meaning right away.
”What else? Lure the dumb commoners into the swamp and have them build their own damn prison around themselves. Then the lords can come and wipe us out at their leisure! To them, this isn't anything more than a game.” A bitter taste was stuck in his mouth, gall collected from years of grief.
”But what choice did we have?” his friend asked.
A silent nod stood vigil to their dead dreams. In truth, the people of Saniya didn't have any choice at all. From birth, the commoners were doomed to live an irrelevant existence in the shadows of the great lords. When the old lords had told his parents to develop the land in a hostile swamp, they had been forced to obey. When Lord Sawo had decided on their exorbitant taxes, he had been forced to obey. And when outside lords had sent messengers to incite a revolt, he had been forced to obey as well. There was no place in Medala for a disloyal servant.
”What's going on with the king's messenger?” At last, the lord of Harkay looked back, to turn the voice back into his assistant and friend. For a bit, Nawy fidgeted, while Wayra waited.
”The man is still unharmed,” his assistant said at last, his voice much firmer. Wayra had been told that his eyes had that effect on people. They would have to work overtime today. ”Even if we wanted to injure him, most in the city don't have the courage to attack a warrior. As the man is a cultivator, we would need more than a few terrified farmers to deal with him.”
”The warriors die just the same as we do, never forget that,” Wayra said, as he suppressed the shake in his voice. If the lords wouldn't play along, he'd have to find another way out. ”No amount of force will make them more than human. So what if they're a bit strong? We have walls, and we still have weapons too. For our city we have cut down all the trees two day's march away. How will these warriors ever climb our walls?”
His smile hiding his dread, Wayra looked back across the wall.
”If we don't fight now, we will die without a whimper. But if we stand together, we can still hold out here! We can make every step into our city a pain for them, a thousand thousand ants gnawing at their feet. We sell our hide for as much as we can. If only we could delay them a few days, we will not only show our people that the warriors are mortals too. We will also show this king how expensive our town will be. With that basis, we can at least bargain for our lives.”
”Bu-, but Wayra, wouldn't that make the lords only more angry?” Nawy wrung his hands, but the leader's heart had calmed. By now he had gotten over his fear, only focused on what he could do, rather than what might be done to him.
”So what? They already wanna rot us out. How much worse could it get?”
”You do not know the horrors of those 'nobles'.” Nawy's eyes quivered like his hands. ”Wayra, have you never heard of the hobbies of the lords? It is said that some lords have made a sport out of the murder of common folk. They will have competitions like this: 'Who can kill their farmers in the most gruesome way?' To prove their might, some have built machines with a thousand blades, ready to skin us. Others will resort to flails, hot coals or machines to rip us in half. There has even been rumor of some lord who would stick his servants into a bronze barrel. Once inside, he would heat his contraption until the poor servants melt like tin over fire. I heard these lords bring their instruments with them on campaign, to still their insatiable lust for blood in between battles.”
”Don't mention this nonsense outside!” Wayra shouted. He wouldn't have his friend ruin their morale even further. ”Just look at their army! Where are those instruments?” he asked, and looked back into the swamp. ”If this were true, the lords would long... have...”
As he saw the horrific sight on the horizon, Wayra's words slurred, until they stuck in the back of his throat. At some point during their talks, the army of southern lords had brought several peculiar contraptions to the front. They looked like elongated bronze barrels, put on wheels for easy transportation. Torchbearers were stationed right behind them, no doubt ready to burn the uncouth peasants to a crisp!
”Eek!” an entirely unmanly shriek escaped his right-hand man. Still, the leader had no time to worry about his friend's image. Rather, he was busy with his own fears. At least, their self-inflicted paralysis wouldn't last long.
As Wayra's eyes flitted across the swamp, he saw the torchbearers light their barrels. A heavy boom alleviated their terrors, and replaced them with new ones. The cargo of the barrels was unleashed on their 'free city' of Harkay, and tore apart their flimsy walls like an axe through a paper door.
Even though his mouth was as dry as a bag of old rice, even though he was frozen in shock, Wayra couldn't deny: He was glad these were only siege weapons.
”Nawy,” he wheezed, as he stared at the holes burst into their front gate.
”Yeah, boss.”
”Release the king's messenger. Tell them we accept their proposal for negotiations.”
”Yeah, boss.”
Without any life in his eyes or his voice, Nawy turned and puppeteered his body out of the room.
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