This post is chapter thirty-five of my not-previously-published epic fantasy novel Broken Rule, which I'm serializing here on Steemit.
The story so far:
Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34
Lorne had been on constant guard since the city had been invaded. He knew nothing of warfare and had little understanding of why they were fighting. He should have noticed something was wrong when people started leaving the city, but he had been concerning himself with checking the statue in the cathedral for new orders.
Soldiers broke into his boarding house one night, and he handed over his remaining coins without argument. There were too many to fight. When they saw how meager his other possessions were, they didn't give him any more trouble. He might have a problem when it came time to pay next month's rent, but the owner of the house seemed to have fled, so even then it might not be an issue. Buying food would be a problem as well, but the carts and stalls where the merchants operated were abandoned, so there was none to be had even if he had the coin to pay for it. He had some stale bread and some hard sausages hidden under his bed, and he figured that he'd be able to make that last for a while. After that, he'd probably need to resort to theft himself, if he didn't have new orders. He didn't relish that thought. Theft was wrong, no matter what the old bishop might say about simple rules of right and wrong being too limited. It was a simple rule and a good one. Theft was wrong and deserved to be punished.
The bishop had been taken a few days ago. Lorne was quite shocked when it happened. They had been having a pleasant conversation about faith and trust when two men grabbed the bishop's arms from behind and dragged him away. Lorne had been too surprised to do anything and wouldn't have known what to do even if he had been able to act. He hadn't seen the old man since and wondered if he had been killed. Checking the statue for new orders had become simpler without the bishop, who always seemed keen to strike up conversations with him, but Lorne was starting to miss those conversations. True, the bishop knew little of Lorne's true identity and had made certain false assumptions about Lorne that he had not corrected, but he was the closest thing that Lorne had to a friend for some time.
Fewer and fewer people seemed to be coming to the cathedral each day. The formal prayer services had stopped when the army first entered the city. The bishop and the young priest urged people to stay in their homes so they wouldn't be attacked by the troops. A few would always come alone to pray anyway, but even that seemed to have dropped off. Lorne was alone in the cathedral today, and being the only person in such a large, empty space felt oppressive, like he was being watched.
A huge crash sounded against one of the walls and reverberated inside the building like a drum. Another one. Lorne looked around in a panic. The sounds seemed to be coming from the center of the long west wall. Lorne stared in fascination at the wall as another one struck. Clouds of dust were shaken loose from the wall. Another strike, and Lorne saw blocks on the wall move. Another, and a giant wooden ram broke through. Someone was destroying the cathedral. The sight of the sun streaming through the new hole seemed to snap him back to himself, and he ran for the door. He had come in through the small side entrance since he had been intimidated by the notion of pushing open the huge double doors at the main entrance. He didn't let that stop him now. Outside was a riot of activity that he didn't understand.
Hundreds of men were gathered around the cathedral, armed for battle. In addition to the wooden rams, they had giant chains and teams of horses ready to tear the place down. Near the front a man was on his knees, crying. It took Lorne a moment to recognize him as Bishop Vasili. He was stripped naked and had a metal collar around his neck. The collar was attached to a chain, the other end of which was held by one of King Gavril's soldiers. King Gavril stood next to him with a far more cheerful demeanor.
“Yes, it's a sorry sight, I agree,” Gavril said to Vasili. “But that's why the men need practice on these siege maneuvers. You can't expect them to be any good at knocking things down until they've tried it a few times.”
Vasili looked at the king with impotent hate in his eyes and didn't respond. The soldiers had made a few more holes in the wall and strung one of their chains in one and out the other. They attached the two ends to some teams of horses and whipped them into action. The horses moved forward, taking all the slack from the chain, and then pulled even harder as their handlers whipped them. The chain cut through the walls bit by bit, until suddenly a huge chunk was ripped out and the chain fell free. The horse teams surged forward as the resistance suddenly fell away, and the handlers raced furiously after them to get them back under control.
Lorne looked in wonder at the gaping hole for a moment, but then it began to shut itself, like a vast stone creature closing its mouth. The wall above it was sagging, straight down into the hole at first, but then tipping into the cathedral. The huge vaulted roof began to sag with it. The motion accelerated, and the entire west wall collapsed. As the stone blocks fell inside, huge clouds of dust and debris burst out of the wreckage. Dust and grit filled Lorne's eyes, and he ran away. The king laughed and the bishop cried as more of the walls went down.
After the king and his soldiers had lost interest, Lorne returned to the cathedral. Bishop Vasili was there, the chain from his collar now looped through the handles on the large double doors of the cathedral, locking it shut. The entrance wall had somehow failed to fall in like the rest, and locking the doors shut on the pile of debris was presumably some sort of symbolic act. Perhaps a joke.
Lorne wasn't entirely sure what to do. Without the cathedral, there would be no drop for him to receive new orders. He could try to watch the ruins of the cathedral for whoever might be bringing his orders, but that could be anyone. How would he know who to approach? He could try to wait to be contacted, but how would any messengers find him? What was he supposed to do now?
Having no other ideas, and no other demands on his time, he brought some water to Bishop Vasili.