Samual

  SAMUAL

  Greg Curtis

  SAMUAL

  Copyright 2016 by Greg Curtis.

  Digital Edition.

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to my mother Ruth and my sister Lucille, my biggest supporters, harshest critics and all round cheer team, and without whom this book would not have been written. It's also dedicated to my father gone too soon but not forgotten.

  Cover Art

  The wonderful cover art was created by Stefanie Fontecha of Beetiful Book Covers.

  https://www.facebook.com/beetifulbookcovers

  Table Of Contents.

  Prologue

  Chapter One.

  Chapter Two.

  Chapter Three.

  Chapter Four.

  Chapter Five.

  Chapter Six.

  Chapter Seven.

  Chapter Eight.

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten.

  Chapter Eleven.

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen.

  Chapter Fourteen.

  Chapter Fifteen.

  Chapter Sixteen.

  Chapter Seventeen.

  Chapter Eighteen.

  Chapter Nineteen.

  Chapter Twenty.

  Chapter Twenty One.

  Chapter Twenty Two.

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Chapter Twenty Four.

  Chapter Twenty Five.

  Chapter Twenty Six

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty One

  Chapter Thirty Two

  Chapter Thirty Three

  Chapter Thirty Four

  Chapter Thirty Five

  Chapter Thirty Six

  Chapter Thirty Seven

  Chapter Thirty Eight

  Chapter Thirty Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty One

  Chapter Forty Two

  Chapter Forty Three

  Chapter Forty Four

  Chapter Forty Five

  Chapter Forty Six

  Chapter Forty Seven

  Chapter Forty Eight

  Chapter Forty Nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Prologue

  The attack that night was one that would live in the legends of the elves of Shavarra for thousands of years to come. And in the nightmares of countless children for the rest of their lives. Those that survived to speak of it would speak of its suddenness, ferocity and the strange and terrible steel creatures that caused such death and suffering. But above all else they would speak of the creatures' eyes. Their glowing red eyes that told of certain death in the night.

  It was the sentries who saw them first, though there were precious few of them to begin with, and far fewer of those survived the sight to sound the alarm. As in all elven lands, there had never been a real need for guards or sentries in the towns and cities. These were peaceful lands; peaceful people. No one had ever attacked them before, and perhaps because of that they weren't as alert as they should have been.

  Shavarra was the eastern most of the elven provinces. The youngest of them too, the land having been tamed from wilderness less than a thousand years before. The capital city was also called Shavarra and it was the only true city contained within the mighty Shavarran Forests for which it was named. It was a land famed for its beauty as much as the fine horses, great craftsmen and bounteous food it produced. And like all elven lands, it was known for its peaceful ways and good people. In all its recorded history there was not one record of its people ever having gone to war or done anything else so ugly. But then it had no need to. Its neighbours were also peaceful.

  To the north lived the dwarves of the Iron Bridge clan, and though they were a boisterous and often bad tempered people, they were still the traditional friends and trading partners of the Shavarran elves. For many centuries the two regions had traded weapons, steel and precious metals for food, horses and high quality hand crafted goods. It was a relationship that was important to both peoples. Without it, neither province could have flourished or protected itself. Besides, neither people had any desire for the other's land. Dwarves liked mountainous regions and elves their great forests. The most trouble they ever had between them was the occasional fight among competing traders, and of course the tavern brawls the dwarves were famed for.

  South of Shavarra – thankfully very far south – was the poisonous swamp land known as Racavor, the home of ogres, goblins, saurana and other unpleasant creatures. It was also the home of one of the great sylph cities; Istantia. But the sylph did not travel let alone go to war and fortunately the creatures of the swamps that surrounded their mountain city found the fresh air and open forests of Shavarra as unappealing and hostile as the elves and all other peoples found their swamps. Similarly, the denizens of that region did not generally have the ability to organise into armies of conquest. Instead they tended to band together in small hunting groups, little more advanced than wolf packs. For the most part they did not stray far from Racavor and their next meal, while the elves did not enter their swamps. A fortunate happenstance that had been in place since before recorded elven history.

  Further to the east lay the great oceans, inhabited some said by the merfolk. The elves however, were neither keen sailors nor fishermen, and never having settled near the sea had little knowledge of them. All they had was the word of mouth of the various travellers who passed through the region, and there were precious few of them.

  Finally to the west lay the nearby human kingdom of Fair Fields, another ancient trading partner of the elves, although one that they had occasionally had some differences with. The humans sought to cut down trees and forests so they could use the wood to build their houses and the land to raise mighty farms, something that the elves found abhorrent. The forests were more than just trees and homes to wild creatures to the elves; they were their homes. Fortunately the humans had respect for the law as well as a love of farming and building, and over the centuries many laws had been written and agreements signed to stop the humans ever coveting the elves' forests. After all it was what kept the various fiefdoms and baronies from constantly warring with one another.

  Besides which, while the elves might not have an army of conquest, their border patrols and guards were more than able to take care of troublemakers, and the people of Fair Fields knew it. A single elf well concealed in the forest with a long bow could take down a dozen men in armour safely. Further, any attacking army would have to stick to the main trails, leaving itself utterly exposed to them. And that was without reckoning on the elves' most powerful weapon; their magic. Save for the sylph the most powerful wizards in the world were elven. The cost of an invasion would be high, even if it was successful, and there was little hope of that.

  Thus Shavarra had never needed a true army to defend its borders. Only guards to keep the odd unruly travellers in check, and border patrols to intercept the occasional bandits or outlaws moving into their territory. Similarly the city itself had never needed many sentries. Why would it? It was a peaceful city contained deep within the forest heart of a peaceful land.

  But this new enemy cared for none of that. He was none of that. Where their neighbours and threats were flesh and blood, his soldiers were steel claws and cold murderous teeth, and there was no reasoning with them. Nor did he have a clear attack plan as would an opposing army. There were no lines of cavalry or soldiers, no horse drawn cannon such as the humans might use, or even generals. Instead there were hundreds or perhaps thousands of wolf sized steel rats that snuck into the city undetected. Stealthy as thieves in the night. But then it seemed he wasn't trying to take the city or overwhelm its guards. His plan simply seem
ed to be to kill the elves. All of them. His was an army of assassins.

  The sentries didn't stand a chance. They had never anticipated an attack of this nature, and for the most part they never even saw their attackers as they wove their way through the forests. Often they were attacked from behind as the steel fiends managed to encircle them. Their only warning was the sudden scrabbling of steel claws on the ground as they charged.

  A few had time to turn, perhaps even to scream, before the creature was on them. And then they died. None had the time to draw their weapons, though precious little good a light steel sabre or bow would have been against a solid steel rat the size of a wolf. An axe might have been of more use, but none carried such things other than for chopping firewood. No more use was their traditional white leather and chain mail armour, as the sharpened claws and teeth of the beasts tore straight through their protection and then through to their hearts. Full steel plate might not have fared much better.

  Unlike flesh and blood creatures these made no sound as they tore their victims to pieces. There was no growling as would come from a wolf pack, nor the squeaks that would come from rats. They did not roar in savage triumph, nor cry out when injured. No more did they stop to feed as would wolves. They attacked for one reason only. To kill.

  It took the rats only a very short time to take out the sentries before moving on into the city itself. Using their unnatural stealth they quickly found the trees that were the heart of the city, and began climbing them. Unlike the elven inhabitants, they had no need to use the spiralling staircases or the hanging walkways to reach the higher homes. They climbed the trees directly, their claws digging deep gouges into the ancient bark, and then crept out along the overhanging branches, slowly getting themselves into position.

  With the ability to climb and to remain perfectly silent as they homed in on their prey, they were the perfect weapon to attack an elven city and murder its people. Any other attacking force would have been heard leagues away in the dense forest. They also would have probably had to have used the main stairways and walkways suspended among the great redwood trees to access the city, and thus would have raised the alarm. This enemy however, suffered no such problem.

  In too short a time hundreds – perhaps thousands – of the steel vermin were poised above all of the major buildings and many of the residences in the government sector, waiting for the command to attack. The city was home to over thirty thousand elves, most of them sleeping, and none of them had any idea of the doom that was literally hanging over their very heads.

  That would soon change.

  The command was given, a silent order that was heard by every one of the rats, and immediately the creatures attacked. Dropping down from the highest branches, they landed directly on and then burst through the thatched roofs of all buildings, the roofs proving unable to support their weight. In a heartbeat the rats were inside the homes of the inner city elves, most of whom were asleep. The unfortunate occupants had no chance to defend themselves. Few even managed to make it out of their beds before the rats were upon them. But in their fear and suffering their screams proved to be the alert that saved much of the rest of the city. For there were far more homes than rats.

  By the time the steel rats had finished with their first victims – most of them elders, advisers and masters of magic – many of the elves from the surrounding homes were awake. And though at first they had no idea what was happening they quickly gathered their weapons and put on armour as they rushed outside to find out what was happening with their neighbours. Meanwhile those in homes or buildings with more sturdy wooden or slate roofs had a little more time to defend themselves or flee as the rats had to work to break through them, and they became the first among the elves to see their attackers and survive.

  These elves were to become the back bone of the fight back against the steel vermin. Even before the guards had been fully roused and the soldiers dressed, they were fighting, learning the strengths and weaknesses of the enemy, and taking the fight back to them. Many years later in the retellings of the battle, the elves from the government sector of Shavarra would be remembered as those who spearheaded the defence. If not for their courage, warning and quick wit, the casualties from the battle would have been many thousands more.

  Of course, they paid a dreadful price for that reputation, with more than half the ruling council slaughtered in their beds, along with the master artisans, spell casters and scholars. The enemy had selected their initial targets with care, hoping to destroy the elves' ability to fight or even flee in the opening skirmishes of battle. But he hadn't counted on the basic resilience of the elves, or their innate fighting spirit.

  As the long night passed a thousand pitched battles ensued between the steel rats and the elves. One that the elves very slowly lost, although in their defeat they managed to make the rats pay a huge toll.

  The rats were dangerous and immune to most weapons, for only the heaviest axes could break their steel shells. But they were also outnumbered by at least twenty to one. And while one sword might break on them, or one arrow bounce off their metal hides, twenty were a different matter, and slowly the elves managed to inflict some casualties of their own upon them.

  Moreover the few spell casters that chose to live in the city, and who had survived the initial assault, soon showed their ability to turn the battle. Nature mages reformed the trees around the rats, trapping them in their wooden clutches. Weather mages brought down lightning and wind to smash the rats into small pieces, while the very few fire mages still living, all sadly students, blew them to pieces where they stood. Wizard fire was highly effective against them as the rats simply exploded as the balls of fire touched them.

  Elves with quarterstaffs soon learned a valuable lesson in fighting the steel monsters as well. The rats could be flipped over, and their undersides were much less sturdy than the rest of them. Better still, once on their backs they seemed to have difficulty righting themselves, giving the defenders a good chance to kill them.

  Had there been more spell casters in the city to begin with the battle might have been won. But sadly there were few magic users living in the city itself, as most chose to live out in the more rural settlements where their skills were of more use. And few of those wizards in the city were masters of fire to begin with. The demand for that skill was greatest among the border patrols and the smelting, forging industries of the southern settlements.

  For his part the commander of the rats proved cunning; his army silent and vicious. The rats continued with their tactics of stealth, climbing above the heads of the defenders and dropping on them from above, catching more than a few spell casters by surprise. Or finding places to hide and then leaping out upon unsuspecting, injured and unarmed elves fleeing from the battle. Worse still, they obeyed none of the rules of warfare. Where a soldier would spare mothers and children while looking for armed assailants, the rats saw them as easy targets and went for them wherever possible. Their orders were to kill everyone.

  And so the battle raged through the night, with the elves slowly losing both ground and people, but saving as many as they could.

  As the sky finally began to lighten the sky, those elves still fighting felt a sense of hope. They had survived through a night of blood and death and with the rising sun they thought the worst might be over. Because the rats' ability to hide and skulk in the shadows, would be gone. Without it and with their numbers already dwindling, the elves hoped that the tide of battle would turn back to them, and they would drive the rats from the city.

  For a while it seemed that the elves' hopes were coming true. Especially when the battles were dying down. When the sun's rays showed the remains of many thousands of fallen steel rats all over the main concourses. Many more could be seen on the forest floor. They had already paid a terrible price with thousands of elven bodies scattered like leaves from the trees throughout the city, and countless more lying dead in their homes, their bodies still waiting to be discovered. But at
least they had been able to dream they had been winning. For a while a few brave souls had even found the courage to smile and give cries of victory.

  But then came the calls from the elves on the higher walkways, and they knew the city's doom was upon them. For far out to the east they could see a line of silver and steel heading towards the city. A line many leagues long. Reinforcements were coming.

  One by one the surviving elders and war masters climbed to the lookouts and tried to guess just how many of the steel rats were coming before eventually giving up. It had to be in the thousands they knew, but how many beyond that was impossible to know. Ten thousand, twenty – it was all just a guess. But it didn't matter. What did was that it was too many to fight. Hopes fell and hearts plummeted as the defenders realised that there was no chance of winning back their city in the face of such overwhelming numbers. Not when they had already lost so many people, soldiers, wizards and civilians, and all to a force far less than half the size of the army approaching.

  They had to run.

  But at least they had time. Perhaps half a day in which they could either prepare to die or flee. And some did want to stand and fight. Leaving meant abandoning their cherished homes, their city, and their hopes and dreams to a steel evil, but they would at least survive as would their kin.

  It was not an easy decision to make by any means, and some refused to leave even when the guards and surviving elders had made it for them. It might seem crazed to many, but to an elf to abandon their homes and their lives and everything they loved was almost worse than dying. Nor did leaving promise them safety. The elves had no guarantee that the golems, as the wizards named them, would stop attacking once they had taken the city. After all, they had no idea why they'd attacked in the first place. What would giant steel rats want with a city anyway? And yet clearly all they wanted was an empty dead city. Unless – though few dared to give voice to the thought – all they had really wanted was dead elves? Nor did they know if they would even be fast enough to escape the rats if they did give chase.