to battle,” Daxos said. He grabbed Elspeth’s hand and pulled her toward bronze doors.
“Called by whom?” Medomai called as they retreated. His voice followed them as they ran down the stone steps to the exit. “Poor two-faced boy, blind, mute, and lying. You’ll never learn.”
H ordes of minotaurs surrounded Akros at nightfall. Heavy clouds obscured the night sky, and no light from Nyx illuminated the flatlands. In the darkness, Anax’s advisors misjudged the number of enemies that surrounded their walls and recommended a counterattack. When Anax sent a contingent of soldiers out of King’s Gate, they were fighting blind, overwhelmed and slaughtered in seconds. Anax ordered all the gates barred until they could better assess the situation in daylight. All night long the strange sounds of industry continued just beyond the walls. The ringing of hammers stopped just before the sun rose.
In the dim light of morning, the Akroans finally glimpsed what the invaders had been doing under the cover of darkness. They had turned Akros into prison by building a mirror image of Akros’s intimidating walls. Akros was built on the edge of the Deyda River, and the minotaurs’ wall was shaped like a massive U from one edge of the gorge, around the city walls, and ending at the gorge on the far side. The builders left open ground between Akros’s wall and their new wall, and this is where the invaders sheltered. They finished the sturdy fortification with terrifying speed, and by morning they were building protective shelters and catapults.
By midday the minotaurs began to taunt the city. First, they launched stones over the wall. Next, it was maggot-infestedcorpses. Akroan archers had to retreat from the open wall. They were easy targets for the hordes and their siege machines. The archers hid behind the slotted windows in the towers, but their arrows inflicted little damage on the teeming mass below them.
The people of Akros were stunned and trapped. Minotaurs didn’t even build houses. How in the name of the gods could the simple-minded brutes be organized enough to create such a fortification? King Anax hurriedly called a war council and demanded answers. His oracles wrung their hands. His strategists babbled about the “circumvallation” and trembled in their chairs. Because anyone who knew the history of the world knew this was unprecedented.
“Why now?” Anax shouted to his strategists at the war council. “What does it have to do with the curse of the severed heads? There are Nyxborn besieging my city! Did Mogis break the Silence? Where is Iroas? Where is the Alamon? Why haven’t my wandering warriors returned?”
Outside in the corridor, Cymede listened through the door to her husband’s rant. She heard the quieter voice of the general in command of the warriors stationed in Akros.
“Sir, it was with great wisdom that you locked the city down after fire burned in the sky,” the general said. “We were expecting an attack against the city. Your quick action has prepared us for the worst.”
Flatterer, Cymede thought. There was no imminent attack, and after beating the war drum so loudly for naught, Anax’s leadership had been questioned.
“We believe that the omen pointed to an attack on the Alamon, not the city,” the general continued. “Under the command of a warlord named the Rageblood, the Alamon have been targeted and many of them killed. We had numerous reports of bodies in the wilderness.”
Cymede was distracted by the sound of pounding boots coming toward her. A guard rushed around the corner andskidded comically to a halt at the sight of her. He bowed low as she approached him.
“Let’s dispense with the scraping, at least while the siege is on,” Cymede said.
“I—I have a m-message for the king,” he stammered as he stood up. He towered over the queen, but then most men did.
“What is it?” Cymede asked. Everyone in the Kolophon knew that anything they could say to Anax,
“Called by whom?” Medomai called as they retreated. His voice followed them as they ran down the stone steps to the exit. “Poor two-faced boy, blind, mute, and lying. You’ll never learn.”
H ordes of minotaurs surrounded Akros at nightfall. Heavy clouds obscured the night sky, and no light from Nyx illuminated the flatlands. In the darkness, Anax’s advisors misjudged the number of enemies that surrounded their walls and recommended a counterattack. When Anax sent a contingent of soldiers out of King’s Gate, they were fighting blind, overwhelmed and slaughtered in seconds. Anax ordered all the gates barred until they could better assess the situation in daylight. All night long the strange sounds of industry continued just beyond the walls. The ringing of hammers stopped just before the sun rose.
In the dim light of morning, the Akroans finally glimpsed what the invaders had been doing under the cover of darkness. They had turned Akros into prison by building a mirror image of Akros’s intimidating walls. Akros was built on the edge of the Deyda River, and the minotaurs’ wall was shaped like a massive U from one edge of the gorge, around the city walls, and ending at the gorge on the far side. The builders left open ground between Akros’s wall and their new wall, and this is where the invaders sheltered. They finished the sturdy fortification with terrifying speed, and by morning they were building protective shelters and catapults.
By midday the minotaurs began to taunt the city. First, they launched stones over the wall. Next, it was maggot-infestedcorpses. Akroan archers had to retreat from the open wall. They were easy targets for the hordes and their siege machines. The archers hid behind the slotted windows in the towers, but their arrows inflicted little damage on the teeming mass below them.
The people of Akros were stunned and trapped. Minotaurs didn’t even build houses. How in the name of the gods could the simple-minded brutes be organized enough to create such a fortification? King Anax hurriedly called a war council and demanded answers. His oracles wrung their hands. His strategists babbled about the “circumvallation” and trembled in their chairs. Because anyone who knew the history of the world knew this was unprecedented.
“Why now?” Anax shouted to his strategists at the war council. “What does it have to do with the curse of the severed heads? There are Nyxborn besieging my city! Did Mogis break the Silence? Where is Iroas? Where is the Alamon? Why haven’t my wandering warriors returned?”
Outside in the corridor, Cymede listened through the door to her husband’s rant. She heard the quieter voice of the general in command of the warriors stationed in Akros.
“Sir, it was with great wisdom that you locked the city down after fire burned in the sky,” the general said. “We were expecting an attack against the city. Your quick action has prepared us for the worst.”
Flatterer, Cymede thought. There was no imminent attack, and after beating the war drum so loudly for naught, Anax’s leadership had been questioned.
“We believe that the omen pointed to an attack on the Alamon, not the city,” the general continued. “Under the command of a warlord named the Rageblood, the Alamon have been targeted and many of them killed. We had numerous reports of bodies in the wilderness.”
Cymede was distracted by the sound of pounding boots coming toward her. A guard rushed around the corner andskidded comically to a halt at the sight of her. He bowed low as she approached him.
“Let’s dispense with the scraping, at least while the siege is on,” Cymede said.
“I—I have a m-message for the king,” he stammered as he stood up. He towered over the queen, but then most men did.
“What is it?” Cymede asked. Everyone in the Kolophon knew that anything they could say to Anax,
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