ROSARIUS
SARASINIA
THE BASTION
Rosarius sat bolt upright on his mattress, sure he’d heard a bell. Had he really, or had he only dreamed it? He didn’t think he’d even been asleep, and yet he must have been because it was almost as if the sound had come from somewhere on the periphery of consciousness.
It was still dark, but the sky outside the tower window said dawn couldn’t be far off. He rubbed his eyes and a sharp pain awoke in his skull. Real bells or not, one thing was for certain, and it was that he’d definitely had too much wine last night. And the girl he’d shared with Borrego was gone. He couldn’t remember paying her off, but if the contents of his coin purse were any indication, he’d been a very generous patron indeed. He should have found a better hiding place. Or an actual hiding place. She wasn’t worth any amount of money. She’d been nothing at all like Gila.
Gila. The girl he’d spent just one night with ages ago, but couldn’t get out of his thoughts. The girl he now compared every other girl against, and found wanting. None were a match for her looks, wit or personality. Or her mattress skills, for that matter. He didn’t care that she was a whore, didn’t care how many customers she might have had since then. He just wanted to see her one last time, even if it was only to say goodbye. But she was gone, sent off to some other city by whoever owned her. They’d likely never meet again. He sank back into his pillow with a groan, thinking he might be ready to face the day somewhere around lunch time.
“Get up!” hissed Borrego from nearby. Rosarius was surprised to see him already wearing his hauberk. “Something’s happening!”
“What?”
“I said, get up!”
Rosarius was immediately on his feet. “What is it?”
“I just heard a fucking bell.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah, up at Old Keep. Fucking thing rang once and then someone strangled it. Something’s wrong, Rosy. I can feel it.”
“Fuck! I thought I’d dreamed that bell…”
Borrego buckled on his sword belt. “We need to get out there and see what’s happening.”
Rosarius laced up his arming doublet, then reached for his hauberk. “Give us a hand with this thing, will you?”
“Arms up,” said Borrego, putting the shirt over his head and grabbing the steel links under his armpits.
Rosarius shrugged into it, then put on his belt and cuffed the hilt of his sword. “Thanks.”
Borrego grunted and slapped on his helm. “Let’s go,” he said, and with sword drawn and shield clasped in his left hand, he plunged down the staircase.
“Right,” said Rosarius, donning his own helm and shield.
In the chamber below they found three sub-seniors huddled together by the tower door, engaged in furious whispered debate.
“Mirtius!” cried Rosarius. “What are you guys doing here?”
The trio spun to face them, wide-eyed. “Sir!” cried Mirtius. “You’re here!”
“What’s going on?”
Mirtius and his friends started talking over the top of one another. Rosarius couldn’t understand a thing they were saying. “Bylen, Shabbie, shut up!” he shouted. “Let Mirtius talk!”
“Soldiers!” Mirtius blurted out. “Someone opened the gate and let them in!”
“What soldiers? What do you mean?”
Mirtius swallowed. “I was just out, patrolling the grounds. I thought I heard the bell go off up at Old Keep. I doubled back, turned a corner and saw the fucking gate was open. I said to myself, ‘Shit, that’s not right,’ and then I saw them–soldiers!”
“What soldiers?”
“I dunno. All I know is they’re not us. And they’re all over the place, hundreds of them.”
“Told you,” said Borrego to Rosarius. He looked at Mirtius. “I heard the Old Keep bell as well.”
“And you said the gate’s open?” asked Rosarius. “How?”
Mirtius shook his head. “I don’t know. Soon as I saw it, I headed up the other way towards New Barracks to tell someone. Couldn’t get up that far, though, because the same thing was happening there.”
“Yeah,” said Shabbie. “Bylen and I just came from up that way. Same thing, like he said. The gate’s open, and soldiers everywhere. And they’re not us.”
“Yeah,” said Mirtius. “So the three of us married up and decided to stay here and maybe figure something out.”
“We didn’t even know you guys were here,” added Bylen.
“Shit,” said Rosarius. “We must have been betrayed.”
“Sounds like it,” said Borrego.
Mirtius shrugged. “Dunno. Maybe? Who are they?”
“I don’t know.” Rosarius looked at Borrego, who stared back. So, the Bastion was under siege. No, actually it was worse than that. Much worse. But what were they going to do about it? He started–they all did–when someone began pounding on the door.
“Open up!” came a frantic voice from the other side. “It’s Waslos! Open up!”
Borrego unbolted the door and flung it aside. Waslos tumbled over the threshold, out of breath. Borrego hauled him into the chamber by the belt as Rosarius slammed the door shut and locked it again.
“Thank,” said Waslos, panting. “Fuck.”
“Waslos!” cried Shabbie. “What the fuck’s going on?”
“Give him room,” said Borrego. “Let him breathe.”
Waslos stood doubled over, gulping air. “They’re here!”
“Who’s here?” asked Borrego.
“I don’t know exactly,” said Waslos. “Some general.”
“A general?” asked Rosarius. He turned to Borrego. “Who?”
“No idea,” said Borrego, shaking his head. “It’s not Thaller, is it?”
Waslos stood up and said between breaths, “I don’t know. But we’ve been betrayed, sirs. Old Keep gate. It’s wide open. There’s hundreds of them. And more coming in.”
“Yeah,” said Rosarius. “We know. Who did we have in charge at Old Keep?”
Borrego didn’t have to think about it. “Rasnid.”
“You don’t think he–?”
“Betrayed us? No.” Borrego looked at Waslos. “You didn’t happen to see Riva over at New Barracks, did you?”
Waslos shook his head. “No. But I haven’t been up there in a while.”
“We have,” said Bylen. “He’s still in charge.”
“So,” said Rosarius. “Whoever this general is, he’s managed to get two of our gates open without a fight and marched his entire fucking forces through them?”
“Dividing ours in the process,” said Borrego.
“Right. And no doubt wants to keep Rasnid’s men shut up in Old Keep and Riva’s in New Barracks.”
“Wants to? He’s already done that, don’t you think?”
“And we’re stuck here. How are we going to reach either of them? Fuck.”
Mirtius suddenly came skidding down the stairs. Rosarius couldn’t even remember seeing him go up. “We’ve got some fucking visitors, guys!” he shouted. “Party of five, headed our way!”
“Friendlies?” asked Rosarius.
Mirtius shook his head. “Nope!”
“Shit.”
“Unlock the door,” said Borrego.
“Why?” asked Shabbie.
“When they try it and find it locked,” said Borrego, looking at him as if the answer were obvious, “they’re going to know someone’s inside.”
“And?”
“And they’ll come back with reinforcements and break it down?” He turned to Mirtius. “Party of five, did you say?”
“Uh huh,” said Mirtius. “Five men.”
“And you want to just… let them in?” asked Shabbie, doubtful.
Borrego unbolted the door. “I do. We’ll ambush them! Everyone, find somewhere to hide. Rosy and I will get it started. When you see us attacking, you all join in. Got it?”
Bylen and Shabbie looked at each other. “Um, what are we supposed to do, exactly?” asked Shabbie.
“Kill whoever comes in,” said Borrego, matter-of-fact. He pointed around the chamber. “But first, hide. Get down behind those sacks. We’ll start, like I said. And when we do, you jump out and help. You get me?”
“We’re actually going to kill them?” asked Bylen, looking at his spear as if he’d never seen one before.
“Yes,” said Borrego. “We’re actually going to fucking kill them. They’re enemies.”
“You mean with our spears?”
Borrego gave the boy a withering glare. “You can use your fucking pinky finger for all I care! But a spear would probably be more effective. Now, be a good soldier and go fucking hide.”
Rosarius and Borrego perched behind the door while the others found concealment where they could. Soon enough, the door swung open and a man poked his head in.
“Eaaah!” screamed Mirtius, dropping his spear and bolting up the stairs.
“Get him!” screamed the man, taking off after Mirtius. Four others followed on his heels.
Rosarius kicked the door shut and struck at the nearest intruder. The point of his sword disappeared into the man’s armpit, and then Borrego was on him and plunging a dagger into his neck. They hit the ground together in a confused mess of limbs and jangling armour.
Rosarius swung his blade again. It bit a man’s arm and sent them both stumbling. Waslos, Shabbie and Bylen came out of their hiding places and began stabbing with their spears.
The first man had already gained the stairs, but the last two panicked and tried to go back the way they came, elbowing each other in their haste to be first out the door. Rosarius and Borrego soon had them pinned to the ground.
“Kill them!” roared Borrego, having lost both his sword and dagger in the melee. “Fucking kill them!” Steel points found the men, and they screamed and thrashed as they died.
“Help me!” shouted Mirtius from the guardroom above.
“Go!” yelled Borrego, lying on the flagstones and covered in blood. He pointed up the stairs. “Someone go!”
A wordless cry escaped Rosarius’s lips. He got to his feet and dashed upstairs, taking two steps at a time. At the top, Mirtius was curled up on Borrego’s cot, trying to fend off the last surviving intruder with his feet. “Yeeaaaah!” he screamed. “No! Don’t hurt me!”
Rosarius hurled himself at the man’s back, hooked his left arm under his chin, and choked him out. Mirtius squealed the entire time, his eyes wide with terror.
Rosarius glared at him until the intruder went limp and started snoring. “Get off that mattress,” he said.
Mirtius didn’t move. “Unh?”
“I said, get the fuck off the mattress!” snarled Rosarius. “Quickly, before he wakes up! Come on!”
Mirtius flinched and jumped away, scared out of his wits.
“Everything all right?” asked Borrego from the top of the stairs.
Rosarius cut into the mattress with his sword and tore off a strip of cloth. Straw and goose feathers spilled out. “Yeah.”
“We need to go, brother. Someone’s going to come looking for these guys, and we don’t want to be here when they do.”
“I know,” said Rosarius, tearing off another strip of cloth.
Borrego finally noticed what he was doing. “You take him alive?”
“Yeah,” said Rosarius, getting a proper look at his captive for the first time. The man wore an old leather cuirass and his mostly-white beard was at least three fists long. “We need to question him. Find out a few things.”
“All right, but we’d better move quickly.” Borrego pointed at Mirtius and then at the window behind him. “Keep a lookout. Tell us if anyone else is coming. Take care you’re not seen.”
“Yes sir,” squeaked Mirtius.
The prisoner, hands tied behind his back with mattress cloth, woke up as Borrego hoisted him over his shoulder. Rosarius followed them down the stairs to find Bylen and Shabbie pacing, studiously avoiding the pooling blood of the four dead intruders. Waslos sat with his head in his hands.
Rosarius sniffed, gesturing at a puddle of vomit by the door. “That wasn’t you was it, Shabbie?” he asked.
“Actually it was him.” Shabbie jabbed a finger at Bylen, who scowled but didn’t try to defend himself.
“Doesn’t matter,” said Borrego. He set the prisoner on the floor and forced him to sit, then unsheathed his sword. “It happens.”
“Why do I feel...?” asked Shabbie, looking at the corpses, “I dunno... bad? Like I’ve done something wrong?”
“Yeah,” said Bylen. “And I can’t stop shaking.”
Shabbie pointed. “I got that one through the eyeball. Could kind of feel him shivering when the point went in.”
Borrego ignored them. “Who are you?” He was addressing the prisoner, slapping him on the back of the head with the flat of his blade. “Speak.”
“The name’s Entius,” said the man.
“Entius?”
“Yeah.”
Borrego seized Entius by his beard, and the man quailed as their eyes met. “What the fuck are you doing in our Bastion?”
“Just a job. Sir.”
“Yeah? And who recruited you for this job?”
“I don’t know.”
Borrego brought the point of his sword to rest under the man’s eyeball. “You’re going to want to answer every fucking question I ask, Entius.”
“Uhn!” said Entius, looking at Borrego with reproach. “All right, but I really don’t know!”
Borrego pushed until the blade drew blood. “Where are you from?”
“F–from here!”
“From the city?”
“Yes sir.”
“Tell me how you got yourself recruited for this job.”
“Some people came around asking…”
“Who? What people?”
“I dunno! Just some purple shields. Weren’t only me. They were asking after all the old vets.”
“You a vet, then?” asked Rosarius.
Entius looked at him. “I am, sir.”
“Veteran of what?” asked Borrego. “Where’d you fight?”
“Candra.”
“Candra? That must have been a long time ago.”
“Yes sir. Long time.”
“Who were these purple shields, then?” asked Rosarius. “The ones who took you on?”
“I can’t be sure, but...”
Borrego took his sword away and knelt beside Entius. “Did they say they were recruiting for the Assembly, maybe?”
“Yes sir,” said Entius, eyeing him warily. “Think so.”
“How did you get past the gate at Old Keep?”
“I don’t know what that is.”
“Old Keep? It looks like a square castle. It was probably the first thing you saw when you came through the gate.”
“Oh.”
“So how did you get past it?”
Entius shrugged. “We just walked in.”
“Through the gate?”
“Yes sir.”
“And it was just open? I don’t think so. Who opened it for you?”
“I don’t know. All I know is it was already open when I got that far.”
Rosarius kicked Entius in the face. The man toppled over backward, blood oozing from a split lip.
“Who opened the fucking Old Keep gate?” shouted Borrego as he hauled him upright again.
Entius groaned. “I don’t know.”
“I really don’t think he knows,” said Bylen.
“I don’t,” said Entius, shaking his head. He spat red. “It was already open when I got there, as I told you.”
“How many men did the Assembly recruit for this job?” asked Borrego.
“I dunno exactly, sir. Fifteen hundred? Two thousand?”
Rosarius whistled. “Two thousand veterans signed on for this? Bullshit.”
“I never said they were all veterans,” said Entius with a shrug.
“So why did you sign on?”
Entius shrugged again. “It was a paying job.”
“And why were you and your friends,” asked Borrego, indicating the corpses, “sniffing around this tower, then?”
“We were looking for coin.”
Borrego showed him the blade of his sword. “You sure about that?”
“I swear it.”
“So you came here,” asked Rosarius slowly, “looking to loot the place?”
Entius nodded. “Yes sir.”
“He’s just a foot soldier,” said Shabbie. “He doesn’t know anything.”
“I was going to say the same thing,” said Borrego. He sat on his haunches, eye level with the man. “I’ve just one more question for you, Entius.”
Entius shuffled, perhaps trying to find a more comfortable position on the stone floor.
Borrego leaned in very close. “Who’s leading you?”
“General Romelo.”
Rosarius closed his eyes. “You have to be fucking kidding me…”
“Romelo?” asked Borrego, sounding like he didn’t trust his own ears.
“Yes,” said Entius.
“Ales Romelo? Or Alexis?”
“Alexis.”
“Do you know if he’s brought his son with him?” asked Rosarius. “Ales is his son.”
“I heard the young sir was along,” said Entius, nodding. “Ales.”
Borrego laughed, a hollow bark. “Oh, you can just see how the Assembly’s going to spin this one, eh Rosy? House Romelo’s going to be the saviour of the fucking Bastion. I can’t fucking believe it.”
“We’re done with Entius, I think,” said Rosarius quietly.
Borrego shoved Entius onto the flagstones. “Yep.”
“Wait!” shouted Bylen. “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like?” Borrego put his sword away and readied his dagger.
“You can’t kill him! I mean, look at him–he’s a grandfather! Probably.”
Borrego sniffed. “In case you haven’t noticed, Bylen, we’re at war. And we can’t leave him alive, not after what he’s seen and heard here.”
Bylen lifted his spear. “No! It isn’t right. We can’t kill him in cold blood!”
Borrego glared at him. “I’d quit pointing that thing at me if I were you.”
Bylen swallowed as he lowered his weapon. “Yes sir.”
The old veteran stiffened as Borrego opened up his neck. Hideous guttural noises came out as he twitched and bled onto the floor. He was dead within moments.
“Ugh,” said Shabbie, making a face at the spreading wash of blood. “That was disgusting. You didn’t need to do that.”
“Shut the fuck up.” Borrego wiped his dagger on Entius’s clothes before putting it back in its scabbard. Shabbie looked away, unable to maintain eye contact.
“I’ll go and grab Mirtius and whatever shit we might have left upstairs,” said Rosarius. “Then we’ll get out of here.”
The boys crept out of the tower and into the still greyness of pre-dawn. A thick fog clung to the Bastion, heavy, damp and earthy. Rosarius led them through it, heading east until they came to the disused dormitory block that was Old Barracks.
“Can’t see for shit,” muttered Borrego.
“Be grateful,” Rosarius whispered back. “We can’t be seen either.” If not for the fog, they’d probably have been spotted already. He paused beneath a crumbling window ledge some distance above their heads. “We’ll go in there.”
Borrego eyed the ledge. “In there?”
“Yep.”
“You want to go through Old Barracks?”
“Yeah. It’ll give us the cover we need to get over to Riva at New Barracks without being challenged.”
Borrego slapped the heel of his palm against the side of the building, dislodging clods of mud and dirt. “Look at it, though. All the floorboards are probably rotted through.”
“Trust me.”
“Fine,” said Borrego, getting down on one knee. “You go first.”
Rosarius slung his shield over his back before stepping onto Borrego’s shoulders. When the man stood again he was able to pull himself up and over the window ledge. The rest followed the same way.
“Your turn, brother,” said Rosarius.
Borrego had to take a running jump so the others could catch his arms and haul him up; he was such a great lump that it took all of them working together.
“I remember this place,” said Waslos, looking around. “I stayed here in my first year.”
“Yeah,” said Rosarius. “We all did, pretty much.” Sadly, most of Old Barracks was no more. The roof was gone, and a huge portion of the uppermost floor had collapsed onto the one below. Rows of empty cubicles stretched before them.
“I was here the night the top floor started to give way,” said Borrego as ancient oak slabs creaked ominously beneath his feet. Dust fell from beams overhead.
“You were probably the reason,” said Rosarius. Mirtius and Waslos giggled at that.
“We should keep moving,” said Bylen.
Rosarius nodded, leading the way. The whole structure practically swayed around them as they walked, groaning under their weight.
“Stay away from the middle of the hallway,” said Borrego. “Stick to the outside walls.”
“If I remember rightly,” said Rosarius, “there’s a staircase on the far side.”
His memory ultimately proved itself reliable, but unfortunately the stairs lay in ruins.
“What now?” asked Shabbie.
“We need to get to the ground floor somehow,” said Borrego.
“It’s too far to jump.” Rosarius peered down. It was also a mess of mud, broken timber and rubbish at the bottom. “Unless you want to break a leg. Hey, wasn’t there a second set of stairs somewhere?”
Borrego shook his head. “Nope. This was the only one. Don’t you remember?”
Rosarius frowned. “Mm.” He’d forgotten.
“Hey, look what I found!” Mirtius was hunched over something on the floor. “You guys need to see this!”
“Fuck,” said Rosarius, the first to take a look. Mirtius had found a body, or at least a set of bones inside a decayed pair of trousers and a tunic.
“What is it?” said Borrego, pushing Mirtius aside. “Oh, shit.”
“I reckon it’s that first-year student,” said Rosarius. “Remember? The one who went missing years ago? Poor bastard.”
Borrego nodded. “Yeah. Does anyone remember his name?”
“Wonder what happened to him?” asked Shabbie.
Mirtius pointed to a rusted blade lying next to the bones. Rosarius was about to suggest murder when they heard heavy footsteps and the walls around them began to shake.
“Rosarius!” shouted a man, stepping out of the shadows. A dozen followers or more stood behind him.
Though a steel helm concealed most of the man’s his face, Rosarius would have recognised that voice anywhere. “Romelo!” he yelled. “You piece of shit!”
“I’m so glad I found you, cousin.”
Rosarius gripped his sword. “Me too.” He was still pondering his next move when Borrego thundered past with a roar, his sword already in motion. Fuck! No time to think; nothing else to do but follow.
“Shit!” muttered Romelo, taking a hasty step backward and tripping over his own boots. No doubt he’d expected events to unfold somewhat differently.
“Fuck you!” shouted Borrego. But the decrepit building’s hallways afforded very little room to manoeuvre and Romelo’s men intercepted him, cutting off the path to their boss. He rained down blows against their shields. “Fuck you!”
“Muuuurgh!” screamed Rosarius as he traded blows with a pair of his cousin’s lackeys. Soon all of them were grunting and swearing as they battered at each other.
“Don’t kill them!” Romelo shouted. “Don’t kill them! I want them alive!”
Rosarius grit his teeth. His helmet rang as a heavy blade connected with it, and though he stumbled sideways from the force of the blow, he still managed to keep his footing. He snarled and struck back, but his blade carome