The Hero’s Guild may disavow any Hero at any time

-Hero’s Guild Book of Rules

Rule # 100

General Jernagin paced the room unsteadily. Each footfall jostled his broken ribs and he kept his teeth gritted against the pain. He wanted to be limber, however, in the seemingly inevitable event that Feral and the boy made their way to him and so he forced himself to keep moving. If he was going to die, he was going to die fighting. The room itself was sparsely decorated and circular with windows looking out in the four cardinal directions. The moment he’d received word that Feral and the boy were out of the dungeons he’d moved to the highest completed point in the tower. At the very least the climb up the stairs should prove draining on them.

His hope of actually trapping or overwhelming Feral had been dashed pretty early on. When Feral somehow managed to block the castle entrance he’d assumed that that was Feral’s big trick and that from that point forward Feral would fight like he had in the past. Had that been the case then the archers would have made short work of him. Unfortunately, reports were now stating that he and the boy could summon up balls of fire and vanish from plain sight. General Jernagin didn’t believe in magic, as a rule, but whatever Feral and Will were doing, it was working. Both the inner and the outer courtyards were ablaze, as were portions of the castle itself and every new report about where Feral and the boy were brought them closer to the tower.

Captain Erias and Lord Fesser both sat silently while he paced. They each knew better than to try and speak to him unless they had somehow been struck by sudden inspiration. The only other people in the room were his personal guard who stood at attention beside the door.

A knock came, the password was given, and a guard opened the door. The messenger stumbled in. His left arm in a sling and smoke ash smeared across his face and uniform. There was a hint of panic hidden behind his eyes and he took a moment to catch his breath before giving his report.

“They’ve reached the foot of the tower,” he told them, “They are surrounded by soldiers on both sides of the stairs but are fighting their way up. The archers have been sent to fight the fires inside the castle and to see if they can resume shifting the stones blocking the entrance.”

The messenger waited to see what, if any, response General Jernagin had for him.

“Why have the archers been sent to fight the fires?” General Jernagin asked.

“The tight spiral of the staircase meant they couldn’t fire their bows,” the messenger stated and it was clear he felt this should have been obvious. “So they were selected to relieve the soldiers who were already dealing with the fires.”

“I seem to recall seeing other hallways branching out from the staircase,” General Jernagin stated. “Is there a way for those archers to get ahead of the fighting and join us here?”

The messenger shifted uncertainly and looked to Lord Fesser. For his part, Lord Fesser had been less and less helpful the more dire their situation became. He was clearly regretting his support now and was perhaps already considering ways in which he might try and justify his actions to the King, should he live that long.

“Well, Lord Fesser?” General Jernagin demanded.

“Well, yes, I suppose there might be a way,” he said slowly, as though deep in thought. “Although if Feral is anything like I’ve heard he’ll have fought passed the point long before they could reach–

“Stop rambling and tell us the way,” General Jernagin commanded, drawing his sword and leveling it at Lord Fesser, “or die!”

Lord Fesser’s eyes shot from the sword tip to General Jernagin and then back. He swallowed hard and when he spoke it came out in a rush.

“My archers know the way, just tell them to get here by way of the upper quarters.”

“The archers may know the way,” General Jernagin growled, “But how is my messenger suppose to find them if you don’t give clearer instructions? He could be left wandering this maze of a castle of yours for ages.”

“Oh, of course,” Lord Fesser gasped and he hurriedly explained the route.

With that done, the messenger left and the room fell silent once more. General Jernagin strode to one of the windows and looked out over the scenes of chaos still playing out below. The well house had now caught fire and was preventing soldiers from being able to draw more water to fight the fires. The inner wall was crumbling from the heat of the blaze coming from the barracks, which were themselves nearly destroyed. Although the stones and mortar didn’t burn, the intense heat weakened them and resulted in cracked and falling walls. Their food stores, however, was his most immediate concern. The barrels of food were mostly ash now and any chance of outlasting a siege were gone. The best he could hope for now was to cause as much damage as he could before the end.

As if reading his thoughts, Lord Fesser spoke up.

“We could always surrender,” he murmured.

“Could we?” General Jernagin asked softly as he continued staring out of the window.

“Well, yes,” Lord Fesser said with a slight increase in confidence. “I think we could. I mean, not much harm has actually been done to the Kingdom, he may just let…let everyone go home.”

“Do you even realize how great an idiot you are?” General Jernagin asked as he turned to face him.

Lord Fesser gaped, mouthing wordlessly.

“We’ve kidnapped the Princess,” General Jernagin went on, drawing closer to Lord Fesser with each word, “invaded the Kingdom with the express purpose of overthrowing it and killing the entire Royal Family, and are now defending a stronghold of the realm against its rightful ruler!”

General Jernagin was now mere inches from Lord Fesser, having gripped the arm rests of Lord Fesser’s chair with his hands and leaned down to glare at the man. Small beads of sweat pocked Lord Fesser’s skin and his breathing was rapid and shallow.

“The first thing King Yarin is going to do,” General Jernagin whispered, “is have each and every one of us executed.”

“But think of our men,” Lord Fesser pleaded without great conviction, “if we surrender he might spare some of them. They were, after all, only following orders. I mean, you’ve practically forced us to—

“I’ve forced you?!” General Jernagin cried out with a cruel laugh that grated against his broken ribs and only added to the hatred he had for this man. “You’ve been courting the Western Realm for years, practically begging us to come overthrow King Yarin. And now that we’re here, you’ve had nothing but nerves and cold feet.”

General Jernagin spat in his face and turned away. Leaning over Lord Fesser had left his ribs in terrible pain and he didn’t want to show weakness to that man. Turning his back to Lord Fesser was risk enough but he trusted his personal guard as well as Captain Erias to step in should Lord Fesser decide he would truly be better off with King Yarin than with him.

As the time crawled by they began to catch the occasional noise of fighting from below. The tower was quite tall and fighting up a spiral stair was difficult in the best of situations. Feral was surrounded and having to fight off soldiers from above and below. Even still, he wondered if it would be enough to delay him sufficiently for the archers to get ahead of them and get here. He also needed Lord Fesser to still be on his side, since once the archers arrived, Lord Fesser’s men would effectively outnumber General Jernagin and his men and that worried him. Perhaps he’d made a mistake in sending for the archers, but there wasn’t much he could do about that now that wouldn’t lead to their other significant complications.

At last the sounds of marching feet on the stairs sounded, followed by a knock at the door and the password given. General Jernagin turned as the door was opened and a mere dozen archers strode into the room. They were a ragged looking lot. Many of them were burned and some of them bore injuries of battle. One even had a splintered arrow shaft in his leg.

He knew better than to ask if this was all of the remaining archers. Such questions only led to weakened moral. However, disappointment was becoming an ever present companion.

“Form up,” General Jernagin commanded and pointed to the far side of the room facing the door they’d just entered through. “Two ranks, front rank kneeling. When Feral enters you are to fire on him until you are out of arrows. Do not wait for an order to fire, just fire.”

The archers nodded wearily and took up their positions. The wounded archers formed up the front rank with the healthier ones standing behind them. They each set out their quivers and nocked their first arrows, ready to fire.

“How, um,” Lord Fesser began with an attempt at a casual tone. “How far back would you say the fighting is?”

The archer nearest Lord Fesser, the one with the arrow in his leg, said, “Not far at all. We only reached the tower in time to get ahead of them.”

“Well I’m impressed you came all this way on that leg of yours,” Lord Fesser said to brace up the archer.

“I didn’t,” the archer replied. “The boy with Feral can bend his arrows around the spiral of the stairs.”

“Well, anyone can get a lucky shot,” Lord Fesser said with bravado he obviously didn’t feel.

The archer shook his head.

“One shot would have been lucky,” he said, “but we were almost twice this many when we first entered the tower.”

Lord Fesser blanched and said no more on the subject, instead turning his attention to the door.

General Jernagin kept his frown in check and was relieved when Lord Fesser didn’t seek to make any further comments. Whatever was going to happen, it would play out soon enough and everyone in the room was bracing themselves for that eventuality in their own way.