The Song and the Serpent

“Adan!” The surprise in Layla’s voice was nothing compared to her relief. She left Matilda’s side and threw her arms around Adan’s neck and kissed him.

Her exclamation broke the oppressive silence that hung over the main hall.

Kian had led Adan from the gate to the main hall, which was packed with groups of quiet children, overseen by mothers, grandmothers, and older sisters. Braziers filled the hall, shining firelight on their frightened faces. The dais at the far end of the hall was piled with barrels, bags, and bushel baskets full of an assortment of provisions, not only food, but also rope, candles, cloth, firewood, and a host of other necessities.

Kian and Adan had found Layla and her aunt by the dais with the other inhabitants of Enys Island.

Layla released Adan, clasping his hands in both of hers.

She glanced at Kian, who looked at the two of them with raised eyebrows.

“Good to see you two aren’t wasting any time,” he said, and Adan saw the same mischievous look in Kian’s eye that he had missed for days.

“Yes, well things move rather quickly when the enemy is at the gate,” Adan replied, wrapping his arm around Layla’s waist.

“It appears so. I didn’t miss your wedding in all the confusion, did I?”

”No, we were hoping to keep you out of the whole event, but decided we’d have to invite you after all,” Adan shot back, “but only because you’re the lord of the city now.”

Kian nodded with mock understanding. “Of course.”

“We decided no such thing,” Layla interjected, “because of course you will be invited. More than invited, I think. Although the blessing of the Lord of the City would be a grand thing to have.”

”I never doubted it,” Kian said, growing serious. “And I’m happy for you both, despite everything. I can’t think of a single pairing of people who I would feel more honored to bless.”

Layla embraced Kian, and thanked him.

The three of them stood for a moment, looking at each other. Adan remembered the times they had played as children in Farel, and the many games that had filled the long afternoons. Sometimes, they had even acted out scenes very similar to the events of the day: Adan and Kian, fighting off enemy warriors and raiders, usually with Kian in charge, or Layla making Adan promise that he would one day marry her and sing songs to her, just like Adan’s father did for his mother before he was born.

Kian smiled and crossed his arms, content to stand and look at Adan and Layla.

Adan gave Kian a look of mild annoyance. He had expected Kian to walk away and give them some privacy.

Kian continued smiling and gave Adan a quizzical look. ”What?” He said, shrugging his shoulders.

Adan rolled his eyes. “Do you think maybe we could have a moment?”

”We are having a moment,” Kian replied, playing dumb.

“A moment just the two of us,” Adan said, gesturing emphatically at Layla and himself.

“Ah!” Kian said, raising his eyebrows again. “But I thought your place was by my side until the battle was over.”

”Go away.”.

“Very well. I know when I’m not wanted.”

“I’m not sure you do.”

Kian left, chuckling to himself.

Adan shook his head. “Clothead.”

Layla gave a small laugh as she watched Kian leave. “You probably shouldn’t call the Lord of New Esta a clothead.”

”You’re right,” Adan said. “Lord Clothead. Is that better?”

“It will have to do,” Layla said. She looked at the ground for a moment before finally meeting Adan’s eyes. Adan saw a question in her gaze.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Do you really want to marry me?”

Adan smiled. “I thought that was clear.”

”It is,” she said, “but a woman does want to be asked, you know.”

Adan nodded thoughtfully. He took a deep breath. Then he knelt on the ground and looked up at Layla, still clasping her hands.

“Layla,” he said, his eyes meeting hers. He ignored the looks of surprise on the faces of those nearby who had noticed his posture. His throat felt suddenly dry and he cleared his throat. “Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife, when all of this is over?”

“Yes,” Layla said, in an official tone of voice. “Thank you for asking.”

“And in case there was ever any doubt,” Adan added as he stood back up again, “I’ve wanted to marry you since we were children.”

“And I you,” Layla said before leaning in for another kiss.

Adan held her close to himself, knowing full well that this may be the last time he ever held her again.

“I love you,” he whispered.

She squeezed him even tighter, and Adan felt the desperate fear she was holding at bay. “I love you, too.”

When all of this is over… Adan repeated in his head.

“The village leaders are assembled, milord,” Corthenu said, as they arrived back at the gatehouse. The waiting warriors sat huddled in groups with their backs against the wall or the trunk of a nearby tree, while the leaders and governors stood under the arch of the gatehouse, waiting for Kian to arrive.

“Good,“ Kian said before looking up at the parapet above. “Any sign of movement out there, Calden?” He shouted.

“No, milord,” the old warrior’s voice echoed from above.

Kian, Adan, and Corthenu entered the gatehouse, joining the older men who were waiting within. The village leaders looked ragged, tired, and dirty, but they were all present, and, from what Adan could see, unharmed.

“Lord Kian,” Fagus said as they entered, and the rest of the assembly turned to face them.

Kian nodded an acknowledgement.

“Gentlemen,” he said. “I summoned you here to gather your opinions on the fight thus far, and so that we may all be in agreement as to the next phase of this siege.”

Kian paused before continuing.

“By the Maker’s good will, we have been saved for the present, and used the enemy’s devices against him. The Undelmans have been driven back into the forest, those that have survived the fire that we unleashed on them.

“But the fires will not burn forever, and the servants of Sithril will not give up so easily. We do not know how many of them have been killed, and we do not know when they may mount another attack. We may have cut the Undelmans off and halted their attack, but we have also cut ourselves off, and we are surrounded by the fire we started.”

Kian’s words were met with somber faces and grim countenances.

“So what, gentlemen, do you recommend we do while the fires burn?”

Silence filled the gatehouse as they pondered Kian’s question, some with faces downcast, others looking around at the gathered leaders.

“I think we should try to anticipate what Hugo might do,” Fagus’s voice cut through the silence. “I don’t know what that might be, but we should try to keep the advantage we have gained and not allow him to dictate the outcome of the battle.”

Heads nodded in agreement.

“The only difficulty there,” said another village leader, “is that we have no knowledge of what Hugo plans to do. We have no way of knowing, so we will have to guess.”

“I think it would be wise to assume that we are still outnumbered,” Corthenu said, stepping forward. “Since we don’t know how many Undelmans have been killed, and it would be unwise to hope for an advantage that we don’t have.”

More heads nodded in agreement.

“And we should assume that Hugo has more barrels or explosive liquid,” Corthenu continued, “and that he may try to use it again.”

“So what would we do if we were Hugo, and we still held the upper hand in numbers?” Kian asked, rubbing his chin in thought.

After a moment of silence, Adan cleared his throat. “The obvious choice to me would be to withdraw outside the ring of fire, gather his men and wait for the fires to die down, and then renew the attack on the walls in the light of day. And I would use the time while waiting to build siege weapons, like a battering ram, or a catapult like ours.”

”True,” Kian said, “Hugo will not be idle while he waits for the fires to dissipate. He will use the time to his advantage.”

“And if he has more barrels, and the time to build a catapult,” Corthenu mused, “we may soon have explosions of fire within our own fortress.”

The thought made Adan shiver.

“We cannot allow that,” Kian said. “We would be done for.”

“But what else can we do?” Corthenu asked.

Kian’s brow furrowed and he shook his head. “I don’t know yet, but we still have some time. We must think hard on what to do. We will meet again in one hour. See to your wounded, number the dead, and think on what has been said.”

“Aye, milord,” many of the leaders said before dispersing.

Kian turned and left the gatehouse and Adan followed him. He pivoted left as soon as he passed out from under the arch and headed for the tree where Arrow and Havoc stood tethered.

Both Adan and Kian saw to their horses, petting their noses and rubbing their flanks with words of encouragement.

“We’re going to have to do something bold and unexpected to stay ahead of Hugo, aren’t we?” Adan asked, looking over at Kian.

Kian nodded without looking back. “It seems we may have to.”

“Just how bold and unexpected are you thinking?” Adan asked.

Kian paused before answering. “More bold and unexpected than letting the enemy enter your walls.”

Adan nodded, looking back at Havoc. “That’s what I thought.”

They remained with the horses, resting together with their backs to the small sapling and waiting for an hour to pass them by. They spoke no words to each other as they waited, choosing instead to rest in silent thought.

A woman’s cry of agonizing pain broke the stillness, causing the two of them to jump and crane their heads in the direction of the sound. As the sound echoed off the walls, Adan recognized the cry for what it was: The sound of someone discovering that their loved one had been slain. Whether a wife, mother, daughter, or sister, Adan didn’t know, but he knew the meaning of that sound.

Many more wails of piercing grief began to rent the night as fathers and husbands were named among the dead. Part of Adan wanted to plug his ears to the unsettling keening, but he knew he shouldn’t. He forced himself to listen, and allowed the sound to fuel his rage.

When the village leaders began to filter back to the gatehouse, signaling the end of the hour, Kian finally spoke.

“Hugo must be stopped,” he said as he stared at nothing.

Adan nodded.

“Without him, the army will be leaderless and directionless, like a beheaded serpent.”

Adan glanced over at Kian.

“He must be stopped,” Kian continued. “He must be killed. We have to get to him.”

Adan heard the urgency in Kian’s voice, urgency mixed with anger.

“It would be a blow to the Undelmans if their commander fell,” Adan agreed. “But do you think it would be enough to turn the tide of battle?”

Kian hesitated. “I’m not sure, but I don’t see how we can survive as long as he lives.”

Adan considered Kians words. He didn’t share Kian’s certainty, but he understood his desire to see the Undelman’s lose their leader, a leader who was once an Estan man, a Vankull warrior.

“We have to find a way to break their spirit, crush their morale,” Kian continued. “We won’t be able to defeat them if we rely on the strength of our arms. If we do that, we will fail.”

”How would we get to him?” Adan asked. “We don’t know where he is?”

Kian looked at the gatehouse, watching as the rest of the leaders began to arrive.

“We would need to find him first,” he said, before walking to the gatehouse.

Adan followed close behind.

“Gentlemen,” Kian said as he passed under the arch and came to stand before the leaders once more, ”what is the number of our dead?”

The leaders looked at one another before Fagus stepped forward. “Milord, from what we’ve gathered, we’ve lost almost fifty men.”

Fifty…

The number didn’t surprise Adan, but the thought of losing so many good Estan men further fueled his anger for the Undelmans.

Kian nodded and gritted his teeth.

“The number of Undelman dead far outweighs the number of our own, but fifty is still too many. We cannot afford to lose another tenth of what Hugo has.”

”What do you propose we do, milord?” Fagus asked.

Kian took a deep breath. “I say we take our men outside of the city and pass through the forest as soon as the fires have dissipated enough. I say we find the Undelmans and take them off guard. Then myself and Othelli will find Hugo and kill him. With their commander slain, and the element of surprise, we may be able to break their spirit and drive them away.”

A heavy silence filled the gatehouse.

“Well, it would certainly take them by surprise,” Corthenu said, scratching his chin.

Suddenly, Hurst spoke. “What makes you think the Undelman warriors will give up so easily once Hugo is dead?”

Adan turned around to see the Chief Bard standing behind them in the entrance to the gatehouse. He must have arrived as Kian was making his suggestion.

“The Undelmans are servants of Sithril, not Hugo,” Hurst continued. “Their devotion will not be destroyed by the death of their leader.”

“Perhaps not,” Kian replied, “but it may be weakened. Hugo used to be a Vankull Warrior, an Estan warrior. That cannot be a coincidence. Why do you think he was chosen to lead the Undelman army against Esta?”

Kian looked back at the leaders and governors. “I believe the Undelmans think that Hugo is their best chance at defeating us. We have already used the enemy’s weapon against him. That cannot be the will of Sithril. The power of their false god has already begun to fail them. What if we also kill the very man that they hoped would lead them to victory over us? It could be the very thing needed to turn the tide in our favor.”

Kian looked at the thoughtful faces of everyone listening.

“It could be,” Hurst said. “But this is a truly desperate plan.”

“We are in a desperate situation,” Corthenu replied. “This may be our only hope of survival.”

“Our only hope?” Hurst asked. “No. Not our only hope. But perhaps the only plan that may bring some vengeance upon the servants of Sithril.”

“What alternative is there?” Kian asked, holding his hands up and looking from man to man.

No one spoke.

“Then ready your men,” Kian said. “Gather them here and arm them as best you can. When the fires have burned low enough, we march.”