The Song and the Serpent

As the sun began to shed bright rays of morning light into the sky, chasing the shadows of night away, the sound of chopping, sawing, and trees falling could be heard in the forest surrounding New Esta. Tall pines, thick maples, and towering poplars crashed to the ground as the woodsmen of the city began the work of building a barricade.

Closer to the city, men and women could be seen wielding picks and spades, chiseling away at the hard earth to make pits several feet deep. Due to the limited number of tools, and the sheer volume of digging that would be required, many of the diggers took turns, working shifts to keep from exhaustion. Children carried buckets from pit to pit, offering small mouthfuls of water to the working Estans. A steady stream of people flowed through the main gate, carrying baskets of food from Corfield into the citadel for reserve stores.

“You were right to challenge me last night,” Kian said.

He and Adan stood at the top of the hill that overlooked the lake where the Enys Islanders had made their home. The hill rose higher than the nearby wall, and gave them an excellent view of the west side of the city.

The two of them had spent the night walking from one collection of huts to another, checking on each of the villages and making a note of every valuable piece of information they could find. Adan kept a running tally of fighting men, proper weapons, skilled hunters, tools, and food stores they found. They had managed to get three hours of sleep on the hill where they now stood before the light of dawn awakened them.

“What do you mean?” Adan asked, looking over at Kian.

“I was going to lead the men of this city to Threcalax,” Kian said. “I was going to march to the capital and leave this place even more defenseless than it is now.”

Adan looked back at the gate. “You couldn’t have known what was coming, and neither did I. You were doing what you thought was best.”

“But the fact remains,” Kian continued. “If I had taken command of the city and left before yesterday evening, we would have traveled south, missing the coming army, and leaving everyone here to die.”

“Thankfully the Maker had other plans,” Adan replied.

“The fact also remains that you were right,” Kian said.

“About what?”

“About my desire to die.”

Kian looked at Adan, who returned his gaze without surprise.

“Well, it looks as though you may still get your wish,” Adan said, looking back at the gate. “But not before I get the chance to die protecting you.”

“You’ve had that chance many times already,” Kian said with a small grin. “You just keep mucking it up and surviving.”

“I know,” Adan said with mock frustration. “I suppose I shall have to find a more dangerous situation to put us in.”

“Something tells me that won’t be very difficult.”

Adan snorted.

After a moment of silence Kian stirred.

“What was the final tally?” He asked.

Adan sighed. “Twelve hundred fighting men, eight hundred with swords or axes, two hundred archers and forty-eight horses. The remaining two hundred men have clubs, staves and knives.”

“What about spears?”

”Less than a hundred.”

Kian shook his head. “We will need more. Once the barricade is done, those who aren’t moving provisions or training for archery will need to make long spears.”

Adan nodded.

The two of them watched in silence as more trees outside the forest crashed to the earth and the steady stream of people flowed in and out of the gate. Adan watched as a cart full of heavy logs and limbs rolled through the gatehouse into the city, pulled by two large horses. The driver turned the cart as soon as it cleared the entry and headed straight for the hill where Adan and Kian stood. The cart drew near as the horses pulled it toward them at a steady rate.

“Who is that?” Kian asked, noticing the cart as it reached the base of the hill to their right and began the upward climb. The horses strained at the harnesses as they dragged the heavy load up the hill.

Adan recognized the driver as he approached.

“Arfon,” he answered. “Why is he bringing all that timber up here?”

The Vankull warrior drew near and pulled the reins on his cart when he reached them.

“With your permission, Lord Kian,” he said as he jumped down from the cart, “I would like to make my own preparations here.”

”What is that for?” Kian asked, gesturing to the felled trunks and limbs that lay in the cart.

“A trebuchet,” Arfon said. “I think I have everything I need to build a small one.”

”A trebuchet?” Kian echoed, looking at the jumble of timber.

“Another way to discourage attacks on weak places in the wall,” Arfon said, examining the hilltop to find the flattest place.

“Have you built one before?”

Afron shook his head. “No. I’ve built four. But I had more tools, time, and materials, so this will be something of a challenge.”

”Will you need help?” Adan asked.

“I already have some friends bringing stones and boulders that have been excavated from the pits, and they will help me when the time comes to raise the support legs and arm.”

Kian nodded with an impressed look. “It seems you have this well handled then. Build away. I think I’m going to assist with the digging.”

By midday, over two dozen pits were completed, as deep as a man, with sharpened branches pointed up to stab anyone unfortunate enough to fall in. Adan and Kian had done their part, shoveling with the rest of the diggers until they ached all over.

Adan, Kian, and two Othelli had dug two pits on the south side of the fortress, alternating with one spade and pick and taking turns, but the work was no less exhausting for the small breaks they enjoyed. They had left a ramp of earth on the side facing the city to make it possible to clamber out of the pits.

The pain in Adan’s leg had lessened, but the mindless monotony of shoveling in the hot, dry sun had taken its toll. Adan’s body screamed for rest, but they had only managed to dig enough pits in front of five sections where the wall was in disrepair. Three more sections still needed attention, and Adan sighed as he contemplated the work ahead.

His stomach had remained in a tight knot of worry since the previous evening, stunting his appetite and chasing away any thoughts of eating.

They are coming.

Adan harnessed his nervous energy and continued hacking at the hard earth. Flashes of images came to mind, images of fire burning his home and consuming Kian’s family. Adan remembered the attack at the sea and the long journey to Undelma which ended in death for all but he and Kian.

This time will be different!

With the sun on his back, sweat pouring from every part of his body, and his breath coming in ragged gasps, Adan swung his pickaxe through the air, growling as he dislodged large chunks of dirt for Kian to shovel and throw out of the pit.

After another hour of this grueling work, the two Othelli warriors standing by took a turn with the pick and spade, and Adan and Kian climbed out of the pit with slow, plodding steps.The sun sent its rays down like a furnace. Adan longed for it to rain, or even to feel a cool breeze in the valley, but the thick air was still.

A young boy carried a small bucket of water over to them and handed Kian the life saving vessel. Kian took several gulps before handing the bucket to Adan. Adan left the cool liquid drip down his lower face and onto his chest and stomach as he drank mouthful after mouthful. When he handed the bucket back to the youngster, he recognized him as the same boy whose father had died two nights before, the one whose mother had wept so keenly over her fallen husband.

The boy’s eyes were distant and dull, rimmed with red from crying. He looked even younger than Adan had been when his father died.

“Thanks lad,” Kian said, and the boy nodded before turning to go.

Adan wished there was something he could say or do, something that would enable him to take the heavy load that sat on the poor boy’s shoulders, but he remembered the heart pain that never truly left. It would lessen over time, slowly but surely, until it would become a small part of who the boy was, instead of an all consuming cloud of piercing sorrow.

But no words could take it away.

Adan could look back on his life and see how his father’s death had made him who he was today. He could see how the Creator had prepared him to be Kian’s bodyguard, to keep Kian alive and to help him through his own grief, and he knew that his father’s death had been used for good.

But nine-year old Adan didn’t want any of those things. He just wanted his father back.

Adan glanced at Kian to see him eyeing the boy as he carried more water to the next group of digging men.

“His father died in the battle two nights ago, didn’t he?” Kian asked.

Adan nodded. So Kian had recognized him too.

Kian sighed. “If we survive this, there will be more fatherless lads and lasses in the next couple days.”

Adan nodded again.

“We’re just a wounded beast,” Kian said, “cornered and ready to be killed.”

“Nothing fights more ferociously than a cornered animal,” Adan replied. “We’ll give the Undelman hunters something to think about before they make any more of our children fatherless.”

The last pit was finished before sundown, and the trees for the barricade hauled to their places, complete with sharpened limbs and brambles thrown on top. Adan and Kian had completed their pit before the final work was done, and they watched as the last of the timber was put in place on the eighth section of crumbling wall.

“We’ve done what we can for our outer wall,” Kian said. “Tomorrow we concentrate on what will transpire within the city during the fight.”

They ate a small but filling meal of bread, dried venison, and fresh vegetables in the main hall before climbing the steps to their room. They washed the caked dirt and sweat and collapsed into their straw beds. No amount to peril the next day could have stopped them from the exhausted slumber that overtook them.

Adan awoke before the light of morning had begun to shine through the stone window in the passage outside. He stretched, tenderly moving his sore arms and legs. The knot of anxiety in his stomach had returned, and he knew that he would be unable to return to sleep.

They are coming.

Adan rolled out of bed and dressed in his outfit from the previous day, ignoring the dirt still clinging to the knees and elbows.

Kian stirred in his bed and sat up as Adan was belting his scimitar to his waste.

“I’m going to see Layla and Matilda while I can,” Adan said as Kian rose to his feet and began dressing as well.

“Very well,” Kian croaked.

“What do you plan to do today?”

Kian chuckled. “I’m sure that will be decided for me, but my only goal is to make sure we are ready for tonight.”

Adan nodded. “I’ll come find you after breakfast.”

The early morning was warm, with little moisture in the air. A pale light gleamed above, indicating the coming dawn and illuminating Adan’s path.

From what Adan could see, most of the city was already awake, hauling food and water to the citadel, preparing and training with weapons, or barking instructions to anyone who would listen.

Adan made his way to the southern part of the city, where the Enys Islanders lived by the lake. Adan could make out the shape of Arfon’s catapult on the hill above the large pond. He couldn’t tell if the trebuchet had been completed or not, but he hoped Arfon had finished his task. A pile of large stones lay at the base of the structure, no doubt to be used as projectiles in the coming fight.

Adan reached the hut where Layla and Matilda lay and found a cloth pulled across the entrance. Judging by the dying fire and the clean dishes, Adan guessed that Layla and Matilda were still asleep. Remembering Layla’s words about fish stocked in the lake, Adan grabbed a fishing rod leaning against the side of the hut and started walking toward the lake, hoping to catch and prepare some breakfast for them to share before they arose.

A blanket of mist floated over the lake and obscured the far bank. Adan made his way to the water's edge and began hunting under logs and old rocks for any sign of an earthworm.

“Mallan!” a sudden cry rang over the lake.

Adan jumped, putting a hand to his sword out of instinct. He looked around and tried to find the source of the shout.

“Mallan!”

Adan recognized the voice of Layla’s aunt and tried to find her. The sound had come from the water, as if from across the lake. Adan squinted through the mist and realized he could make out a shape in the fog.

“Matilda?” He called back, trying to see if his guess was right.

“Mallan? Where are you?”

As the shape drew nearer, and Adan began to understand what he saw, anxiety turned into panic. Matilda was standing in a boat in the center of the lake, calling for her dead husband.

“Matilda!” Adan shouted. “Come back to shore!”

Adan sought frantically for another boat on the shore and saw one a hundred paces away on his left. He dashed toward it, all the while watching to see what Matilda would do.

“Auntie?”

Adan heard Layla’s voice nearby, calling from the hut where he had just been.

“Over here!” Adan shouted as he reached the boat.

“Auntie!”

Adan heard terror in Layla’s voice as it came closer.

“Auntie what are you doing?!”

Layla appeared from behind one of the huts nearby just as Adan located an oar sitting inside the small boat. Her hair was thrown to one side and she wore nothing but a black shawl wrapped around her night shift. Layla ran to the water's edge and jumped in the boat, nearly capsizing it and tipping Adan into the lake.

Adan regained his place at the back of the boat and began rowing furiously out into the lake.

“Mallan!” Matilda shouted again.

“Auntie, it’s me! Layla!”

Adan saw Matilda’s head tilt toward them as she heard Layla’s voice.

“Where’s Mallan? I saw him. I know I saw him, out here. In the water…”

“Faster!” Layla begged Adan as he rowed closer.

“I’m trying,” he replied.

“Mallan…” Matilda said, turning away and staring through the mist. “Where did you go?”

“Auntie, how many times do I need to say it?!” Layla shouted. Adan heard months of frustration and anger in her voice as she berated her aunt. “Mallan’s gone. He’s dead. He drowned three years ago and he’s not coming back!”

Matilda looked back at Layla, shock and pain in her face.

“No,” she said, so quietly that Adan barely heard her. “I saw him…”

“You didn’t see him! He’s gone!” Layla shouted back.

Matilda looked down at the water, her face a mixture of confusion and grief. Then she looked up.

Adan and Layla were now less than twenty paces away, and Adan could easily see Matilda’s features in the pale light.

The look of confusion and sorrow on her face had been replaced by serene acceptance. She looked at Layla and relaxed, giving her a small smile.

Then she tipped forward and fell face first into the water.