by David Oliver
“My apologies,” Cassius said, hands held high, “I meant no offence.”
Jadira waved him off and motioned for the soldiers to stand down. “No apology needed as your assessment is likely correct. They have felt the sting of our arrows many times and unless they have some secret that I can’t discern they would barely reach the walls of our fort with the numbers they have in the daylight. They will come at dark. Stand down for the moment, eat and rest. You will be the breach guard. Anything gets through that gate or forces a breach, you close it.” She locked eyes with everyone in the unit one by one. “Do me proud.”
A clang of fists on chest pieces resounded as the Meredothians saluted their leader. With a final nod at Cassius, Jadira headed in the direction of her map room and following her advice he set off in search of food.
It was going to be a long night.
✽✽✽
Sophia
Darkness fell and with it the shifting line of watching warriors started the steady jog towards the fort. Flaming arrows roared out of the keep, rippling through the air to land in the surrounding snow, providing just enough light before extinguishing to judge whether the shadows approaching were troops or tricks of the eye. Shouts, challenges and war cries began to fill the night as the Hrudan approached, the thump of heavy boots sending a rumble through the air. One by one the twang of bow strings sounded as sharp-eyed hunters started to take their toll and screams began to add to the encroaching cacophony.
Sophia nocked, released, nocked and released again. The half-seen shadows that had been moving towards the base of the wall stiffened and fell, and she gave a small grimace of satisfaction before turning her attention to the next shifting movement. A rattle of hail on the battlements startled her for a moment until she heard the short scream of one of her fellow archers and saw her drop to the floor below. The Hrudan had ranged weapons of their own it seemed and the archers were far enough away as to be invisible to the fort’s occupants. They didn’t appear to be picking their targets but it served to keep the defenders’ heads down, slackening the rate of fire and allow the Hrudan troops to get closer to the wall.
“Keep firing!” bellowed one of the archers. “Do not stop!”
“Troops at the base of the wall!” shouted another.
Sophia poked her head above the parapet and saw a long shadow snaking its way through the flickering flames. It took a moment for her brain to make sense of what she was seeing but when it did she ran to the other side of the tower and screamed at the guard below.
“Ram incoming, brace the gate! Brace the gate!”
Cassius took one look at her panicked face and sprinted with the other breach guard to slam themselves against the thick log gate, muscles straining in anticipation of what was to come.
The ram appeared out of the darkness, a thick pine cut down with branches trimmed to be handles for the wielders, the men holding it thick of arm and back, their heads hunched over as they powered through the snow with their heavy burden. Arrows arced in, some finding targets and causing the load to increase for the others, but more missed; hammering into the snow or thunking into the wood of the pine. Over the last few feet the gasping breaths of the ram bearers turned into a deep roar as they charged the weapon home.
The boom of the ram impacting the gate shuddered the palisade behind which Sophia crouched and sent Cassius and his breach guard flying back, only to fling themselves back at the gate before the ram could hit again.
Sophia looked over towards the gate, spotted her target and in one fluid motion rose, aimed and fired before sinking back down behind the wall, her target dropped with an arrow lodged in his neck.
“Make way!” shouted a voice and she pressed herself into the wall as two huddled past carrying a heavy pot. They reached the top of the gate and then with a heave sent the contents of the pot over the side. Instantly the smell of cooking flesh rose to Sophia’s nostrils and the screams rose to fever pitch.
The ram fell silent for a blessed moment of respite, but the Hrudan who hid at the base of the wall in relative protection from the archers ran to pick it up again, quickly starting their work anew. The resounding thuds started again, but quickly became accompanied by splintering cracks as the gate began to suffer. A fresh wave of arrows hammered into the dual towers surrounding the gate, trying the prevent the archers from hitting the ram crews and then the night lit up as the Hrudan archers lit their arrows, sending them blazing into the wooden walls of the fort, concentrating primarily on the towers until they resembled a crackling bonfire. The defenders hurriedly threw buckets of water and snow on any fires that they could reach but soon the blazes on the tops of the towers were raging out of control.
Another splintering thunk and this time there was a cry from the streets below. Sophia stuck her head out and saw that the head of the ram had broken through part of the gate, leaving a gaping wound where the once sturdy log had lain.
That was the only thing that saved her life.
A low clunk sounded as something rolled into the tower. Sophia turned just in time to see the burning wick fizzle down to nothing and then the world went white.
✽✽✽
Cassius
Cassius ducked as a blast came from above, seeing someone get flung onto the roof of the nearest lodge and heard the screams that followed. Black powder, he thought grimly as he ran to brace the gate again but the ram got there first. This time the entire gate fell inwards and the breach guard scrambled to get out of the way, some making it in time, others not so lucky and being crushed by the falling timber. Howling war cries the Hrudan charged through the now open gate, butchering those that were on the floor and aiming to flood into the fort.
Desperately Cassius dived into the melee, shouting for his breach guard to form up and get back into the fight. His sword soon became slick with blood as he fought like a man possessed, taking wrists and throats as he battled to stand above his fallen friends. In the tight press his smaller sword made for a better weapon than the great axes that the Hrudan needed room to swing, but their size and power began to take its toll. The movements of Kaschan were largely impossible, the floor slick with blood and bodies, and too many people surrounding him to be able to dance out of the way of attacks.
He felt, rather than saw, the impact of his allies coming back into the fray. The Hrudan reeled back as shields smashed into the line, forming a wedge that drove deep into their ranks in order to him. A hilt of an axe caught him in the face and his attacker snarled as he made to follow up before an arrow lodged itself in his eye socket, his corpse kept upright in the press of people. A hand grabbed Cassius’s shoulder and pulled him back, dragging him behind the line of shields and giving him a moment’s respite. Giving himself a quick once over he had numerous cuts and scratches but none of them deep, and as far as he could tell the majority of the blood that covered him was thankfully not his. Looking up at the roof he saw Sophia firing into the press of people, her clothes charred and face covered in smoke but her will to fight unbroken.
A shield bearer fell, great axe splitting her head like a log. Respite over Cassius stepped back into the line, his sword seeking out the exultant axe wielder and leaving him gasping over a severed windpipe. He fell back into the mechanical nature of his swordplay, block and counter strike, covering those nearest to him when he was able and punishing the enemy for every mistake. For a moment he dreamt that they could hold the breach, that they could keep the Hrudan from progressing any further and then the line wavered from impact and he realised what Sophia had been trying to scream over the din of battle.
“They’re over the walls!”
The gate was not the only point being assaulted and the more dexterous warriors had managed to climb the walls, removing the guards and pouring into the fort in enough numbers to throw the tide of the battle for the gate into the favour of the Hrudan.
Seeing this and seeing the shield bearers begin to fall, struck from blows from the side without opportunity to defend themselves Cassius made
the call.
“Fall back!” he bellowed. “Back to the keep!”
The Hrudan surged forward as the defenders began to melt away, axes catching many of those who tried to run and leaving them broken on the floor. With his immediate group Cassius sprinted twenty paces before turning and as one slamming back into the chasing warriors, the ferocity of the impact breaking up the attacking force enough for them to break off again, leaving three dead Hrudan and one dead shield maiden.
Bit by bit they began to carve their way back to the keep, collecting any Meredothians who they met on the way. The retreat became easier as they moved, the chasing warriors lost in the glee of loot and slaughter. Screams resounded through the air as those who hadn’t managed to retreat began to suffer at the hands of the aggressors but Cassius couldn’t stop to help or they would all be lost. He clamped down on his emotions and swore to save all he could. In the keep they could hold until it was over.
One way or the other.
Chapter 10
Relief
The keep was a raging blaze. Rising above the rest of the fort large parts of it were burning merrily away and bodies littered the path up to the main gates. Thankfully these were primarily the corpses of the invaders and had been killed by blade and feathered shaft. Here and there were larger groups of fallen where the defenders had turned and counter charged their pursuers. Judging from what my senses were telling me, the attackers had numbers to spare, whereas for each defender lost the chances of anyone surviving this assault dwindled. I just hoped that Cassius had made it to the caves.
We sprinted up the hill, dodging bodies and removing pockets of resistance where we could. Sophia’s allies proved themselves to be as good a shot as the woman herself. Many of the targets we engaged fell before the rest of us lowly melee fighters could close with them, arrows unerringly embedded in throats, eyes or craniums. As we ran past each archer would scavenge the arrows they had fired, re-utilising them if they weren’t broken and even with that tactic they were running low. Barely four arrows apiece. A pity that they didn’t have more for my senses told me at least thirty men, maybe more, were inside the keep and moving deeper inside the building, hulking brutes one and all. The burning gates flanked a scene from a nightmare with the steps to the keep slick with blood and viscera; bodies strewn all over. The attackers had paid dearly for entrance to the building.
Eyes sharp and noting each fallen body we entered the flaming building, weapons held ready. The first to fall was an invader that exited a side room, wine flask in hand. His face registered nothing but pure shock that there was something pointy in his chest. A shout came from ahead, a questioning tone. After a period of silence, another shout - angry this time. Boots stomped down the hall towards us. As the bulk of the aggressor came into view an arrow embedded itself in his shoulder. An angry grunt from Ryese - the top most fletching had come off mid-flight and altered the trajectory of the arrow. The wounded man spun and shouted before a second and third arrow hit the base of his neck and back of his skull. He crumpled to the ground.
I silently wished that the man’s shout hadn’t been heard.
Unfortunately my luck had never been that good.
The person commanding this attack wasn’t entirely stupid and had committed a rear-guard to ensure that the keep wasn’t relieved by counterattack. This rear guard now formed up around the corner of the hallway, out of sight for arrow shot, but not from my senses. The keep had been designed with defence in mind, the main corridor twisted and turned at various points. From the corpses strewn around the place it had served its purpose. Now those same defences were working against us, allowing the ten-man unit to wait in relatively safety around the ninety-degree bend. I relayed what I knew and motioned for the archers to watch our backs. Ella, Rikol and I strode forward; it was time to get messy.
We halted at the edge of the corner. The ten men were in two ranks, each person shifting in anticipation. Unfortunately, whilst the idea was sound the reality was flawed. Unlike soldiers with shields who can cover the comrade next to him, soldiers with two handed weapons are not best suited to holding positions. They are line breakers; shock troops employed to shatter defensive lines and best work in open spaces. A corridor with room for perhaps three people to actually swing a weapon? They were their own worst enemy.
Rikol edged one of his blades around the corner, using it as a mirror to judge the enemy placement. He held another blade loosely in his right hand, Ella held a further two. Nodding at each other they both darted forward and loosed their daggers, three of which embedded themselves in the chest or throat of their intended targets. The fourth ricocheted off the blade of a greataxe raised in protection. As the rest of the men charged I swept forward, axe held across my shoulder. Ducking into the mass of men I sheared through two in one swing before being forced to leave the axe embedded in the chest of a third. Rikol and Ella came forward, flowing past each other in perfect Kaschan form, two strikes each and two men fell. The remaining two swung wild, chest shattering swings but the blows were easy for my companions to avoid. Ella spun and slipped past the head of an axe, embedding a blade in her assailant’s eye before kicking the final man in the side of his ankle whilst he was distracted, the brief moment of uncontrolled focus giving Rikol all the time he needed to drive his blade into his opponent’s throat.
Sophia emerged behind us, leading the rest of the archers who looked somewhat stunned at how quickly we had dispatched the ten men.
“Good job,” was all she said as she walked past, an arrow loosely mocked to her string. “My turn to take point”. A normal person would probably argue that an archer is a terrible point man, especially in confined quarters. But we Imps had all seen many times just how fast Sophia was. And it wasn’t just speed, it was her uncanny accuracy whilst firing as a purely reflexive movement. Honestly, I wouldn’t want to test my speed against her archery.
With Sophia leading the way forward we fell into step behind her, weapons at the ready and archers at the rear. I left behind my borrowed greataxe and instead drew my sword. As fond of it as I was growing, as these fallen men had just found out, axes weren’t always the best choice. What was ahead was likely to be knife work; a close, confined melee. Our specialty.
We passed into the great hall. Vast timbers crossed over the ceiling holding old flags and tapestries. It looked like it would have been a homely place were it not for the tables that lay upturned in a concentric ring at the far end of the room. Approaching, it became clear that there had been an attempt at a barricade. More bodies lay sprawled around the tables and the floor was precariously slick with blood and splintered wood.
“Let me guess, the entrance to the caverns is past the barricade?” said Rikol.
“Correct,” replied Sophia, “looks like someone was trying to buy some time.”
“No sign of Cassius thankfully,” said Ella.
“I wouldn’t say that’s entirely accurate,” I replied. “Look at the bodies, several have sword cuts - rare enough here - that are very well placed. Throat, heart, lead arm. I would go so far to say that this is Cassius’s work.”
Tears welled in Ella’s eyes before she nodded, “Let’s move.”
Following Sophia, we moved past the barricade and through a curtained door. Several more bodies lay in the hallway, two leather clad attackers and one female defender, her sword still in hand even in death. Slightly further down the hall were wooden steps leading down. Together we descended into the gloom, the foreboding atmosphere lit only by a periodic torch. Moving forward I took over from Sophia, trusting my senses to warn me of any incoming attack. The wooden steps soon became stone. Narrow and difficult to navigate steps that had been carved into solid rock.
“Not far now,” came Sophia’s whispered voice. She was right; I could hear a cacophony of noise coming from further down the stairs. Sounds of fighting with the associated grunts of pain and blades on steel, and further on cries of fear and panic.
Finally we reached the bott
om of the stairs and emerged into a scene reminiscent of the paintings of heroic last stands found in any noble’s house in the Empire.
Bodies lay strewn across the floor, with a veritable pile close around the entrance to a narrow passage through the rock. Cassius stood alone, breathing heavily and holding the entrance against a wave of furious attackers. Cuts lacerated his face, close calls each, and he was keeping his weight off his left leg. Even as we arrived he lunged forward, showing no sign of his injury and speared a man through the throat as he raised his axe. Another to add to the pile.
Perhaps twenty men were waiting to engage Cassius. But as Sophia had said, the choke point was extremely effective, forcing a one-on-one situation. If this had been one of our training sessions, Adronicus would have seen that Cassius didn’t have a shield and lambasted him whilst we riddled him full of blunt arrows. Thankfully the attackers were either too prideful to use anything other than their axes or had lost all their bows - something that favoured our friend. Something that I have learnt time and time again over the years and have used to extreme effectiveness is that if you need a small choke point holding then Cassius is the man to do it. His skill with the blade meant that unless you got around him or did something particularly unexpected he wasn’t going to be going down easily.
Unfortunately, in battle unexpected things happen all the time.
As Cassius began to withdraw his sword, a particularly large warrior kicked the corpse of his companion forward, preventing Cassius from easily withdrawing his blade as the body came in his direction. A brutal punch from a massive fist struck my friend’s face as the warrior came forward, charging over the corpse and preventing the sword from being dislodged. Cassius swayed, the blow having rocked his senses, but as the fighter moved to strike with the hilt of his axe, Cassius launched forward and buried a knife in his wrist.
