by A. C. Cobble
Bells passed. The men rustled about nervously. On the platform, every few minutes, someone would go look out into the darkness. Then they would turn and shake their heads to their companions. Nothing to see.
Some of the men told dirty jokes under their breath, so Amelie couldn’t hear. Others pleaded with their fellows to relay messages to loved ones if they didn’t make it. Rhys lay down with his head on his cloak and took a nap.
The soldiers stared at him. Ben shook his head ruefully. He wasn’t sure if his friend was trying to show off, be calm and reassure the soldiers, or if he really was napping. It was hard to tell with Rhys.
Further down the wall, watchtowers poked upward. They would be the first to spot anything. Some of them even had far-seeing devices. Those would be nearly useless, he knew. It was a cloudy night and the light was low.
Amelie remained silent with her eyes closed, focused on whatever she was doing.
To pass the time, Ben wandered over to inspect the catapult they were guarding. It was a massive thing, nearly the size of a house. Twisted ropes pulled back the lever arm, storing tension that, when released, would fling the arm forward and launch rocks or heavy iron balls out into the field in front of them. A team of a half dozen men was standing ready to winch back the arm and reload it.
Firing as quickly as possible would be critical because the weapon was difficult to aim. Once the demons passed through its range, it would be rather ineffective. After that, they had a rack of crossbows leaning against the wall. The artillery men would switch to those when their catapult no longer served its purpose.
“How far does it shoot?” Ben asked of one of the men.
“About four hundred paces,” answered the man proudly. He laid a hand on the weapon. “We haven’t gotten to use her in real combat, but she works great in practice.”
The man went back and hefted one of the head-sized iron balls. “These things’ll break limbs, crush heads, and can blow a role right through you if it’s a direct hit.” He pointed to a separate pile of rubble. “We got rocks, too, if we run out of proper ammunition.”
Ben walked over and lifted one of the balls. He nearly dropped it on his toes. The thing was heavy!
“They keep rolling,” said the man, smiling. “That’s why we like them more than the rocks. Hit the first line and roll back into the second, breaking legs, making 'em trip over the balls. It’s nasty but effective.”
Ben stumbled forward and dropped the ball back into a basket full of them. Who in the hell carried those up the stairs, he wondered.
Late in the night, the moon was passing overhead. Fatigue was starting to creep in. Well past when they would normally be in bed, the men were getting agitated at standing and waiting for something they could not see. The commanders would not risk opening the gates and sending scouts to confirm the demon presence. They would not release any of the men, either.
Ben heard mutters and grumbling, but the threat of demons was enough to keep everyone on watch. So far, no one near him had tried to sneak away.
Suddenly, a shout rang out from one of the watchtowers.
Ben and most of the other men rushed to the battlement to see what was happening.
At first, he couldn’t see anything. Then a flash of darkness swept through the light of one of the bonfires. The shape crashed into the fire, scattering the big pile of logs and sending them toppling over.
The fire flickered out on some logs as they rolled across the ground. The little light they had in the field got a bit smaller.
A score of arrows flew into the air. The captains called for the archers to halt. The dark shape had pulled back, and the arrows fell harmlessly around the burning logs.
Down the line, another bonfire was hit and its logs also scattered.
“Making it harder to see them,” grumbled the sergeant standing again at Ben’s side. The gruff soldier looked back at his squad. There was nothing for them to do. Launching the catapults at an individual demon would be a waste of ammunition.
A quarter bell later, all of the bonfires were knocked over. Many of the logs still burned, but the light they threw off was lower, less concentrated.
“Smart.” Rhys sighed, surveying the darkened battlefield. He’d finally risen from his nap when the shout had gone out from the watchtower.
Further down the wall, a shout pierced the night. It startled Ben and the men around him. He turned but couldn’t see what happened. The soldiers shifted nervously. Then behind him in the other direction, another yell tore into the air.
Nothing was moving in the field below them. He couldn’t see what was attacking the men.
“Flying demons!” bellowed Rhys. “Look out above!”
Ben swept his sword out and stepped away from the battlement.
Heartbeats later, a shape swooped in silently out of the night. It violently crashed into a man ten paces away. The man flailed backward and flipped over the back wall with the force of the blow. The creature sailed away into the darkness. The man shrieked on his way to the hard cobblestones below. His yell ended in a crunch. Ben winced and cowered down, looking into the black sky.
All of the torches and braziers the men had on the artillery platform were lit, but in the middle of the night, they couldn’t see anything above them that was outside of the firelight. Ben realized that by the time one of the flying demons entered their circle of light, it would be too late to react.
Looking around wildly, he saw the polearms sticking out from the crenellations of the platform. They were there to prevent the creatures from scaling the wall.
“Raise the polearms!” he called.
The sergeant broke his scan of the blackness above and looked at Ben uncomprehending. Ben grunted in frustration and ran to one of the nearly six-pace-long weapons. He pulled it up and set the butt of the weapon on the stone floor. Angling it up and out, he positioned it so any flying demon coming in from outside of the wall would run straight into it.
“That’s right,” said the sergeant, looking on, finally understanding. He turned to his squad and shouted, “Treat it like a cavalry charge. Set polearms.”
All down the wall, other men heard, saw what was happening, and started raising their own weapons. The walls of Northport grew spines like an angry porcupine.
Near Ben, a winged demon came swooping in and slammed into one man’s polearm. The momentum of its flight snapped the thick wood in two and the creature crashed onto the walkway atop the wall. A yard of sharp steel and broken wood stuck out of its torso. The man holding half of a broken polearm stared at the creature in shock.
Other men scrambled forward and thrust swords into the demon’s twitching body. The beast made one last attempt to move, but two more swords stabbed into it, pinning it to the ground where it quickly fell still.
A cheer went up from the nearby men before their officers admonished them to remain vigilant and keep the polearms up.
Crashes and howls spread down the line as more of the flying demons smacked into the wall of steel.
Another one hit nearby and landed wounded on their platform. Ben and Rhys darted forward, swords raised to finish it.
Shaking the purple blood off his longsword, Rhys clapped Ben on the back. “Good suggestion with the polearms.”
The sounds of battle filled the air but not enough to cover the creak and heavy thump of a catapult firing. Two more sounded from different parts of the wall.
The sergeant ran forward to peer between two merlons.
“Damn,” he called back to his artillery team. “Fire!”
The sergeant started back to help his men, but a black shape flew down and landed on his back. Long claws wrapped around his neck and tore into his throat while the demon rode his falling body to the stone floor.
Crimson blood sprayed out across the platform. Rhys was there before the creature could turn to anyone else. His longsword plunged into its chest.
The rogue glanced where the sergeant had been looking then yelled at the men
around him, “You! Get your polearms up, they’re still coming in.” Addressing the catapult crew, he barked, “Fire freely. The flying ones are just a distraction. They’re coming!”
Ben lunged to the edge and looked below. Across the plain, a black swarm was approaching in the flickering light of the failing bonfires. In the dark, he couldn’t hope to count them. The little light that was left down there started to go out. Black shapes trampled over the fires and extinguished them.
At the gate, flaming bales were pushed over the side of the wall just in time to see a monster the size of four oxen come charging in to pound against the iron barrier. The entire wall shook with the impact. Two more followed right behind it. The three creatures vanished back into the night. The gate still held. Ben knew it wouldn’t hold much longer. It was designed to withstand whatever a human army could throw at it. This was something out of a nightmare.
The catapult thumped behind Ben and the heavy iron balls went flying into the darkness. They couldn’t see where they landed or what the damage was, but Ben knew they would hit something. The entire field was crawling.
Time for watching the attack below vanished when three more man-sized flying demons came hurtling at their platform.
One collided with the small forest of steel-tipped polearms, knocking them to the side. That cleared space for the other two demons to land in the midst of the men.
Still gripping the tall wooden hafts of the polearms, men were ripped to shreds before Ben, Rhys, and half a dozen other swordsmen arrived.
Slipping to a stop on the blood-soaked stone, Ben lashed out at one of the creatures along with another man. Both of them cut into its flesh, but in the twisted tangle of man and beast, they couldn’t get a clean strike. The demon pivoted, reaching for the other man. That gave Ben an opening. He thrust his mage-wrought longsword home. The blade plunged easily into the demon’s heart. Twisting his weapon as he brought it out, Ben jumped back from the purple fountain of blood that splashed down to mingle with that of the dead men.
The soldier nodded his thanks to Ben then turned back to scanning the sky.
Stretcher-bearers rushed forward for the wounded men and corpses.
Rhys took charge of the platform. With the sergeant dead, no one thought to challenge the rogue’s right to command them. They saw the silver glow of the glyphs on his longsword and knew not to argue.
He set half the men to hold the unbroken polearms they had left. The others he put on sword duty to handle any demons that landed. He admonished the catapult crew to fire faster, demanding that they fling more heavy iron over the walls.
“Every demon you hit is one less we have to fight hand to hand,” he yelled.
Ben looked around for Amelie and found her standing now, bent over one of the baskets of iron balls.
“This one,” she instructed the catapult crew. “Fire from this basket.”
“What did you do?” asked Ben. He moved to stand beside her but kept his gaze upward. In the black night, they would only have a heartbeat to react if a demon got in past the polearms.
“Wait and see,” she said, breathing heavily. She pulled her rapier and dagger, but they both knew the light weapons would be a last resort and only used if the soldiers got overwhelmed.
The catapult crew loaded the arm again, pulling iron balls from Amelie’s basket. Out of the corner of his eye, Ben caught her wince when a man dropped one of the balls into the catapult’s hand.
As soon as the last ball was loaded, the men yanked a lever and the arm snapped forward. The scattering of iron soared out into the fields beyond the wall. Ben kept his eyes toward the sky, but his concentration broke when a violent eruption happened out in the field.
One after another, bursts of flame flashed like fireworks. They illuminated a scrambling horde of demons trying to get away from the explosions. In the sharp light, Ben saw pieces of iron fly out from each blast and shred the nearby demons into tatters of ugly meat. Ten paces around each explosion was a carpet of dead demons.
Rhys looked at Amelie, wild-eyed. “Can you do that again?” he shouted.
She pointed to the pile of balls the catapult crew was now very gingerly loading. “This entire basket is primed. I think I can do more. It should be faster now that I know what I’m doing.”
“What are you waiting for?” demanded Rhys.
She frowned then scurried around the rest of the ammunition, briefly laying a hand on top of each pile and concentrating.
Loud cracks and explosions in the field after each time the catapult launched signified her work wasn’t going in vain.
Rhys looked around then waved to her. “Come on. Let’s get to another catapult and see what you can do there.”
He left instructions with the men and sent a runner for reinforcements. That catapult was now the most destructive weapon in Northport’s arsenal. It was critical to keep it firing.
Ben rushed after Rhys and Amelie as they darted between soldiers to the next catapult. The wall shook beneath his feet. He knew the huge demons were again charging the gate. Too bad they couldn’t hit one of them with Amelie’s exploding iron.
At the next catapult, confusion reigned.
The stones were slick from blood and half the defenders were missing. Rhys gestured to Amelie and she crouched by the waiting ammunition stores.
Ben grimaced when he saw none of the men were raising polearms. There were no officers left alive that he could see.
He and Rhys strode forward, but before Rhys could bark out orders, a black shape crashed into the back of one of the men. The fallen soldier went sprawling forward and his companions rushed to defend against the new attacker.
Rhys and Ben started to help as well, but out of the corner of his eye, Ben caught something coming between the merlons of the battlement.
He turned to find a lithe, long-limbed creature pulling itself onto the wall.
“Behind you!” shouted Ben.
Rhys turned just in time to see the beast gain its footing and charge forward.
One of the soldiers stepped between Rhys and the demon only to have his head torn off by a brawny black arm.
Rhys jumped forward, slashing his sword and severing one of the long arms. He then ducked the other as the demon swung at his head. Rhys rose from his crouch, slicing his glowing silver longsword across the creature’s stomach. It fell backward to tangle with two more like it.
Ben charged, hurtling over the fallen body of the soldier and stabbing into one of the demons before it gained its footing. His mage-wrought blade slid in easily, and the demon screamed, falling backward into the darkness.
“Let’s go!” cried Amelie from near the ammunition cache.
From the way the catapult crew was loading the iron, Ben could tell she’d told them what would happen. The men could see the brilliant explosions from the first catapult.
With a last, quick instruction to the remaining men on the wall, Rhys started off toward another catapult platform with Ben and Amelie in tow.
They heard a thump and series of loud explosions behind them as the catapult arm launched a wave of death out into the field. Ben thought he could hear screams of pain and terror out there, but they were drowned out by the ones close by.
The wall shuddered again, followed by a painful screech of torn metal. Rhys paused halfway to the next catapult platform.
“If they break through that gate…” He snarled.
“Go,” demanded Amelie. “I can get to these catapults on my own. They need your sword.”
“Amelie,” Ben started to protest.
She cut him off.
“If the demons break through those gates, the fighting will be focused in the streets, not up here. Go!” She pushed past them, jogging to the next platform.
Grim-faced, Rhys turned and waved for Ben to follow. “You ready for this?” he asked.
Running after him, Ben panted, “For what?”
Rhys pointed ahead, down below the wall. Ben saw a huge demon forci
ng its way through the broken gate. Sharp, torn metal scored its side, leaving deep purple gashes. A broken log jutted out from one shoulder. The huge beast surged forward despite its injuries, clearing the gate and stumbling into the streets of Northport.
A wave of arrows and crossbow bolts flew down into it, but the one big creature was a small problem compared to the horde that flowed around it. Smaller demons flooded the streets.
“Here,” said Rhys, stepping off the wall and onto a flight of stairs leading down. They would get to ground level two blocks away from where the demons were racing in.
Makeshift barriers and walls had been erected to steer the demons into cul-de-sacs, which would be used for killing grounds, but the big demons that had attacked the gate could smash through those barriers easily.
Ben realized the battle plan was falling apart.
In the streets, confused, panicked men rushed by in both directions. No one thought the attackers would so easily penetrate the walls. The idea had been to keep them outside and whittle down their numbers with the artillery and arrows. Close quarters battle with so many demons could be catastrophic.
Ben stayed close on his friend’s heels as they weaved closer to the fighting. Ahead, he could see a temporary wall silhouetted by firelight.
The wall burst inward with explosive force. A shower of broken timber and bodies rained onto the street in front of them.
A huge demon stood square in the middle of where the wall once stood. It took one slow step forward and men turned in a flock and fled. The demon was larger than the arch-demons they’d faced in the Wilds, but it moved sluggishly, like it was moving through honey. It was strong though, strong enough to smash through the wall Rhymer’s men had built.
Rhys squared his feet and in a booming yell screamed, “Behind me! Hold your ground.”
His longsword flared to light, filling the street with a soft white glow.
Ben stepped up beside him, eyes focused ahead on the massive demon.
