The Siege of Samarik: No Slumber for Captains of the Line

No Slumber for Captains of the Line - A Story by Mark Barber

The poet Tristan of Effisus had recently written words about silence falling like cannon fire - a line Baccius had thought perhaps pretentious - yet as he limped through the still streets, he now felt that he understood it. The city square and every street within a hundred yards lay in crumbled ruins; jagged, dusty stones draped with the bodies of the fallen like bloody rags. His eyes fell on the remains of a bakery his daughter loved, torn to nothingness by the relentless pounding of cannons and the twisted war engines of the foe.

“Dictator Baccius?”

Baccius turned in place, pain flaring up from a dozen half-healed wounds from the two weeks of fighting. He looked up at a paladin - a huge man of nearly six and a half feet, blonde and ruggedly handsome. At the edge of the square, half a cohort of paladins in blue surcoats stood dismounted by their horses. Their banner depicted a phoenix in white - the Order of the Sacred Ark.

“Lord Paladin Orion,” the younger man offered an armoured, bloodied hand, “I was sent here to find you by your soldiers.”

Baccius accepted the hand and shook it firmly. No words came. His thoughts were still with the ruined bakery. The ruined city. His city, the place he was tasked to defend. But his wife and children were safe. They all were: all of the people he evacuated. They had won.

“May I see to your wounds, sir?” the towering paladin offered carefully.

Sir. A courtesy - a Lord Paladin and a Dictator held equivalent rank.

“I…my wounds are…”

Baccius took in a breath to help compose his thoughts.

“What now?”

The paladin’s blue eyes narrowed, but he said nothing.

“What now?” Baccius repeated, “the city is…ruined. The abyssals have shown that they can strike anywhere, any time and in huge numbers. What now?”

Orion lowered himself down to sit on the remains of a wall next to the dictator.

“And we have shown that we can kick the bastards square in the teeth every time they do. We won. Yes, we have many dead to bless and to bury. But we won. The city can be rebuilt, and people can come back to their home. Whatever dark magic the bastards of the abyss used to open this portal…well, it must have been crippling for them to do so otherwise they would still be opening it now and sending more reinforcements through. But they are defeated. All dead and gone from here. You, Grand Master Gnaeus, Hraath, and above all our divine defenders from the Mount…you all led us to victory against the darkness. We’ve shown every foe in Pannithor that Basilea and our salamander allies…and I suppose even the forest dandies who lowered themselves to side with us this week…we can defeat any evil.”

With a wince, Baccius sat down opposite the paladin. The Lord Paladin’s tone was careful, sympathetic to the losses suffered, but still optimistic. Baccius reflected on the words. Yes, there was always sadness for the fallen after any battle, but they had won. And this battle was something momentous - a cataclysmic blow delivered from the abyss that was stopped dead in its tracks.

“Any evil,” Baccius offered a weary smile, “is that what comes next?”

Orion nodded with an uneasy grin.

“I think so? Those decisions are above me. But I know Hraath and Z’akke will lead their salamander army to Haelthorn. They hope they are not too late. I think the Basilean flag will fly with them, and we will follow. We have stopped one evil. Now we must destroy the next.”

Baccius nodded again. He knew that his job would be to restore the defences of Samarik and be ready for the next assault, as and when it came. He would not be tasked with marching to war against the evil of the Xirkaali alongside Hraath, Orion and the others. The weary dictator dragged himself back up to his feet, his smile broader now.

“Well…hopefully this will make us all realise that there is no benefit in arguing over faith when we can once again all stand together against true evil. Back to it then, Lord Paladin! No rest for the leaders of bloodied bastards, as the poet Garris once said.”

One of the paladin’s eyes flickered in an uncomfortable wince.

“That was Dedanni…no slumber for the brave captains of the line…but I see your point, Dictator…”

The Siege of Samarik summer campaign has now concluded. Find out more HERE.

Mark's new novel, 'Blades of Samarik', which tells the story leading into the siege, is available now - click HERE to grab your copy!