Rage and Rebellion (Histories of Havenhearth)

5.1 Gwinael

By the middle of the third night, following an uneventful second, the force was ready for the assault - everything had gone to plan thus far. There had been, at least, no indication that the rebels had any idea that they were there. And now they were waiting for a signal from the force that was to attack the fortress on the other side. The fourteenth were spread out around the bottom of the slope, hiding behind boulders and in little gullies in the mountainsides, a small plain between them and the city. . Gwinael was lying on her stomach, her sword in her hand, with Heathtree ahead of her, and others, including Andri, behind her, all of them breathing heavily from the tension and anxiety and anticipation as they waited. Their ghostly faces were pale blurs in the darkness, lit by the moon which had brightened slightly in the past couple of nights as it grew. And when it was finally Go time, they would have to move right into the moonlight, not exactly as visible as they would be during the day, but not far off. It was unlucky, but there was no choice in these matters, and Gwinael asked the spirits to keep them all out of reach of any of the rebel archers.
Suddenly, two flashes of light streamed across the sky, one from each side, and that was the signal. They were in battle- arrows whistled above them, towards the fortress castle in the city, their own archers. Nothing in return. Three rounds later, and they stopped, still no return. Gwinael took a deep breath.

Ahead of her, the plain burst into life- several lines of Cassioni soldiers jumped up and began to charge the walls. They screeched and yelled like insane banshees, the moonlight making them fully visible. But still no arrows were fired from inside and no movement was even visible on the crumbling walls. This wasn't right. Gwinael senses that something was wrong about this. And her suspicion was immediately confirmed when the hillsides above them came to lif and arrows rained down as if from the sky itself. The attacking Cassioni continued forward until the deluge of arrows stopped most of them in their tracks. The arrows continued to extend their reach towards where Gwinael was still lying, as the attackers continued down the hillside towards them. She heard the shouts of combattants, and the clang of clashing metal as Tainish protectorate met Cassioni rebel swords. She finally heard her order: "advance!" Along with the notes of a Tainish horn. Gwinael and her group jumped to their feet, shouting, cheering, screaming out into the night, moving forward towards the walls, catching up with any Cassioni combattants from the first wave, who were forced to join the second. The arrows resumed, and people fell all around her screaming for help. And yet they continued forward, swords drawn.
Here she was in attack, her colleagues being shot down around her, she was even running on top of their bodies whose blood she could smell, and she still did not feel the bloodlust she had been warned about. Adrenalin yes, but a terrible overwhelming desire to kill? Certainly not. She caught a glimpse behind her- she seemed to be leading a small group- where to? She didn't even know. Just towards the walls, and then over them. They were crumbling ruins after all and they had to get a way in, but then what? Right into the swords of the rebels?
She had lost sight of Heathtree, and of any ranked combattants by now. An arrow whizzed by her left shoulder, grazing the skin, burning it a little, and still she ran towards the walls, barely even noticing as a Tainish horn could be heard. Only one? Soon, she found that she had reached the walls, and right at a pile of ancient debris. Rebel Cassioni looked down at her, and she flattened her body under the pile, protected from the arrows. She was completely out of breath from the run, covered in sweat and gasping for breaths. Her training kicked in, and she looked around to identify her position, seeing a path which wound its way around the base of the walls, the angle of arrow fire would be compromised, and so she took off along there- this was how they were going to get in, she was sure. The others, she didn't even know who, followed and around the bend, she began a climb over the debris. "Careful Gwinael- they knew we were coming! Are you sure?" It was Andri. "It's our only way in, and there's no arrows!" She called back. "A gap in the wall, it'll be guarded!" He returned. "Gotta try anyway. There was no answer this time but when she looked back, she found him climbing up with her. There was no sign of any enemy here and they stumbled upwards on scrambling with bleeding scratched knees and bruised hands, over the old rocks and bricks that had once made up the town walls. If they could get in, Gwinael was certain their swords would prevail- the Cassioni rebels were said to be peasants- not very numerous, no protectorate training, armed with farming implements, and maybe they could open the heavy doors, and let the remaining forces in. When the climb started down, it was moments until she stopped off onto flat ground, her sword in her hand. There was nobody. They seemed to have somehow gotten round the back and into an old, derelict and overgrown orchard or vineyard or garden.
"Onto the walls! Charge the archers!" She yelled out, running for the nearest stairs up to the ramparts. Taking out the archers would leave the rebels entirely defenceless. But all of a sudden, a body flew down onto her from the wall, bringing her to the ground, knocking the wind out of her, the body's hands around her throat. She dropped her sword and grabbed onto the wrists, fighting back by kicking, thrashing around, lashing at the attackers eyes, trying again to get the hands off of her. Why didn't he just stab me when he dropped on me, she wondered absent-mindedly, as her consciousness became lost to her, Andri was right, it was a trap, she thought to herself before the world faded to darkness.

When Gwinael came to, she found that she was being partly carried and partly dragged along, her body stretched limply like a sack of potatoes between a man and a woman who hands were around her ankles and wrists. Her hands were tied behind her back. She felt sick and lightheaded, and she couldn't tell where she was going, other than along one of the narrow streets of the town she guessed. There was an odd smell in the air, a stink she would come to realise was the town itself. She tried to look around in the moonlight, seeing someone else being dragged along in the same way, she couldn't tell who, her vision a little hazy. There were no sounds of any battle anymore. Had there even really been one? What was the outcome? She figured it didn't matter now, the Cassioni weren't known for taking prisoners of war, they killed them, she had heard. She shivered, from fear and her unknown future. She hadn't even been able to fight for Tainland. All she had done was get captured. Her mother would be sad, and likely just as disappointed as she would be sad.
None of her captors were speaking either, it was oddly peaceful and quiet.
The captives, there were a few more than what she had able to discern a few minutes prior, were carried through a gate-house of an inner wall and into a garden or courtyard of some kind, a handful of rebel combattants holding weapons, barely even looking their way, and those that did sneered at them. One  even spat in the direction of the disgraced Tainish combattants. Across the courtyard they went, stopping in front of heavy door in the ground, studded with iron, along the wall nearby was a long plate of iron, the height of a person. Wonder what that's for? Gwinael wondered to herself just before she was dropped to the ground. The woman who had been carrying her sliced a knife through the rope tying her hands together, and in a heavy accent said "Stand up." Seven captives rose to their feet. Gwinael noticed Andri was one of them. Another stayed on the ground. "Cassioni don't tell me what to do, I follow Tainish orders." She had a grin on her face, full of disdain. One of the rebels that had sneered at them drew a knife, making her way over towards them. "Get up! Quickly you idiot!" Gwinael called out, and just in time too, because the rebel would have swung, Gwinael was certain. Instead, she re-sheathed the weapon and shrugged, firing out a string of spittle on the ground near Tainish feet. "Go eenside, go down," they were instructed. The heavy door opened, and the eight of them filed in, stepping carefully down the three or four steps into a dark, stuffy chamber. The door shut atop them, and Gwinael heard a bolt slide into place, wondering if anyone knew yet they were missing. If they had be taken as prisoners, surely the enemy would inform the Commandaire of the numbers they had captured. Maybe her mother already knew. Then it hit Gwinael, smack bang in the middle of her sinking stomach, maybe the enemy knew exactly who she was. Or rather, who her mother is.