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Monday, 09 January 2006
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The Seige of White Bridge
Page 2

“Milord all is lost the bridge has fallen!”

Gasped the exhausted runner.

Lord Tarien sat on the Ivory Throne of Cal-Thurin facing the exhausted messenger, who was splayed face forward on the expensive patterned carpet. Sweat had begun to pool around the runners knees turning the rug a deeper shade of blood red.

“Don’t just lie there boy order the mages to begin the counter assault.”

“Yes milord.”

Came the hasty response as the runner issued a sketchy bow and bolted out the large brass doors.

Lord Tarien slowly rose from the Ivory Throne and walked down the marble stairs towards the large gilded windows that lined the left side of the throne room.

Castle Baulfort had never been taken in a siege in its whole 100 year history and the White Bridge had fallen but twice to foes in its 500 years, only to be recovered each time by a valiant assault from the defenders.

Standing in front of one of the great arched windows Lord Tarien, steward of the ivory throne and Lord of White Bridge gazed with his arms crossed out at the furious battle in front of the mighty stone gatehouse hundreds of metres below. Castle Cal-Thurin stood on the southern edge of White Bridge, at the foot of the sacred Baremount road that lead to the unnamed castle atop the entrance to the Deep World. The Deep World was a gigantic construct beneath Baremount that housed the purebloods, a race of people forgotten to most of the world, but very much in power beneath the forbidding Baremount.

The purpose of White Bridge was lost in the mists of time as there were other ways to access the mountain, other than across the cavern that stretched below its mighty stone arch. However for some reason any assault that managed to penetrate the country’s defences and make its way to White Bridge always sieged across the bridge. Never around.

Turning his attention back to the battle Lord Tarien nodded in approval as the siege force was pushed back from the gate house with the aid of the mages guild. Bodies of the foeman flew in multitudes of the white stone and into the cavern below. But still thousands more pushed forward with frenzied screams to take their fallen comrades’ places.

“At least the mages are following orders for once.” Tarien mused to himself.

Last Updated ( Tuesday, 10 January 2006 )
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