The Wolf's Call

by Anthony Ryan

  She gave a reluctant grimace before running after Sehmon and Ahm Lin, calling over her shoulder, “I hope she’s got more of that poison to hand!”

  Vaelin took up position in the centre of the Skulls whom he had arrayed directly in front of the gate. Another regiment was stationed behind with two more positioned on either side of the gate. Nortah and Juhkar stood to his front with their bows ready whilst Alum placed himself at Vaelin’s right.

  “What manner of god,” the Moreska wondered aloud, staring at the shuddering gate in mystification, “makes madmen of his followers?”

  “Some would say all of them,” Vaelin replied, allowing himself a grin at Alum’s reproachful scowl. His humour soon faded, however, as the gate voiced its loudest boom yet.

  The great oak doors bulged, the brackets securing it to the wall unleashing a whining groan of protesting metal as they were wrenched from the stone. The doors relaxed for an instant as the pressure retreated, then bulged again with even greater force. The heavy crossbar bent and then splintered as a narrow gap appeared between the doors, closing and then widening, first an inch, then a foot.

  The grinning, wide-eyed face of a Redeemed appeared in the gap, Nortah raising his bow then stopping at the sight of the blood pouring from the man’s mouth and eyes. The prayer chants grew louder as the doors were forced wider, all cadence lost now as it became a manic, continual yell. With a final heave, the crossbar snapped and the doors swung wide. The corpses of the Redeemed burst through to slam against the portcullis, unleashing a torrent of gore that washed over the cobbles to stain the boots of the waiting soldiers.

  “Steady!” Vaelin called out, hearing several soldiers retch at the sight.

  The portcullis began to resemble a net crafted from mere string as it buckled, the dead flesh pressed against it bursting under the pressure to unleash the contents of bowel and vein. The corpses were piled so high that Vaelin could see no sign of what transpired beyond the gate, but the unending snap of bowstrings and shouts from the battlement indicated the Redeemed continued to face a lethal assault from above. But still the pressure increased, blood leaking in torrents as the portcullis bowed, strained and then came loose from its fastenings. It was borne down in an instant, smothered by the corpses that slid clear of the gate like fish spilled onto a dockside, and in their wake came the living.

  The first was a woman, naked but for a few matted rags clinging to her gore-covered skin. Her hair and much of her scalp had been singed away by burning oil, and her bared skull trailed smoke as she charged, leaping the bodies of her fellow Redeemed with feral agility. She bore no weapon but her hands were formed into claws, reaching out like talons for Juhkar’s face as she closed on him, then fell dead with one of his poisoned arrows through her chest.

  A score more followed immediately after, all similarly maimed and maddened. Most were swiftly felled by Juhkar and Nortah’s arrows, those that weren’t meeting their ends on the spear-points of the surrounding soldiers.

  For one scant moment the gate appeared empty save for the red mass of bodies that crowded its base. Vaelin began to voice orders for the Skulls to rush forward and bar the entryway, but then he heard it, a sound he remembered from the day Varinshold had been reclaimed for the queen. The Renfaelin knights had charged through the streets, and the sound of their horses’ shoes on the cobbles had been like the clang of a thousand anvils.

  “Prepare for cavalry!” he shouted, sending the assembled regiments into a new formation. The soldiers on either side of the gate, moving with the speed and precision that confirmed their veteran status, formed phalanxes three ranks deep. The first rank knelt with spears held at a low angle, the second braced their spears on the ground to hold them out diagonally, whilst the third brought theirs to head height to jut between the shoulders of those in the second rank. The Skulls, lacking the years of drill enjoyed by the veteran regiments, were slower in forming this hedge of spear-points, the third rank only just managing to scramble into place by the time the first Stahlhast warrior charged through the gate.

  He rode a tall grey stallion that forced its way through the corpses in its path with barely a pause. Upon clearing the bodies, the Stahlhast charged straight for the Skulls, whirling a wickedly spiked mace on a chain above his head. Nortah stood squarely in his path, bow aimed and drawn for what seemed to Vaelin to be an excessive delay. Nortah loosed when the Stahlhast had closed to less than twenty feet, the arrow finding the left eyehole in the man’s helm. A thick crimson torrent gushed through the visor as he tumbled from the saddle. His horse, however, continued on, obliging Nortah to dive clear. The beast reared up before the stabbing barrier of the Skulls, lashing out with its hooves until Alum darted forward to open its neck with a flick of his spear.

  “Straighten up!” Vaelin barked, sending the disrupted ranks back into formation just as a dozen more Stahlhast erupted through the gate. Nortah and Juhkar moved in opposite directions, loosing arrows with lethal swiftness, the poisoned-tipped shafts claiming four riders in quick succession. The others fanned out to assault the regiments on either side of the gate. Most were quickly speared down but one managed to hack his way into the ranks of the regiment on the right, disordering their lines so that they were ill prepared to meet the charge of the Stahlhast following behind. Within seconds the regiment had been shattered, its three ranks broken and its men struggling amidst the chaos of stamping horses and slashing warriors.

  Vaelin’s gaze snapped to the left, seeing the other regiment in marginally better straits, their ranks holding despite a ferocious assault, although it was clear they would soon falter. In the centre a score of Stahlhast riders were struggling clear of the unfolding melee and forming up for a charge. Knowing the Skulls would have little chance of containing such a weight of armour and horseflesh, Vaelin saw only one option.

  “Attack formation!” he shouted, moving to stand before the first rank with his sword raised. He waited just long enough to see the three ranks become two, the soldiers all standing with spears levelled, then turned and charged for the gate. For a second he suspected the Skulls had failed to follow, wondering if they had all turned and fled as their criminal instincts re-emerged at the crucial moment. But then he heard Corporal Cho-ka’s shouted order to charge followed by the drum and rattle of armoured men at the run.

  The Stahlhast were quick to take note of their charge, spurring forward to meet it but only managing to cover a dozen yards before the Skulls drove their spears home. Vaelin ducked under a slashing sabre and hacked at the rider’s leg, the blade cutting into both the horse’s flank and the warrior’s ankle. The Stahlhast screamed in pain and fury, reversing his grip on his sabre and attempting to stab it dagger-like at Vaelin’s face. He jerked to the side and reached up to grab the steel guard on the man’s forearm, hauling hard to pull him from the saddle. Before he could rise, Vaelin planted his knee on the warrior’s breastplate, pinning him down as he drove his sword point through the slit in his helm.

  Feeling the hot rush of a horse’s breath on his neck, Vaelin rolled to the side, dragging his sword clear of the slain warrior’s helm. Hooves pounded the corpses and the cobbled ground as they chased him. Vaelin came to his feet, lashing out with his sword, the blade scoring a deep cut on the pursuing horse’s mouth. It reared, blood and foam frothing from its lips, the warrior on its back raising an axe high, ready to bring it down when his mount plunged. Before he could deliver the blow, the axe wielder stiffened, a spear-point appearing under his chin. As he tumbled from the saddle, Vaelin saw Alum withdrawing his spear before whirling away to slash at the face of a dismounted warrior.

  Looking around, Vaelin quickly surmised the charge had succeeded in stalling the Stahlhast just in front of the gate, but the struggle was far from over. Riders continued to wheel amidst the chaos, hacking at the soldiers assailing them on all sides, whilst knots of dismounted warriors fought it out with the Skulls.

  Seeing Cho-k
a on his back, lying about with the haft of a broken spear as he fended off the sabre strokes of two dismounted Stahlhast, Vaelin rushed towards him. He cut down one Stahlhast with a thrust to the base of his spine, the star-silver edge cutting through chain mail to sever the bones and nerves beneath. The other whirled to meet the new threat with impressive speed. She wore no helm and Vaelin took in the sight of trailing red braids and a snarling face he recognised.

  The sabre rebounded from his sword with a hard clang, the woman ducking under Vaelin’s counterstroke and making ready to thrust at his midriff and then falling senseless to the ground as Cho-ka slammed the haft of his broken spear into the back of her head.

  “Don’t!” Vaelin said as the corporal drew his dagger to finish her off.

  “My lord?”

  Vaelin lingered a moment to take in the sight of Thirus’s slackened features. He hadn’t realised how pleasing her face was before, it being so riven with anger and hate during the course of their journey across the Steppe. He had thought most if not all the Ostra had perished in the first assault, meaning she may well be the last of her Skeld.

  “She’s owed a life,” he told the corporal. “We killed her sister on the Steppe.”

  Gazing around he saw the few remaining Stahlhast perish beneath the soldiers’ spears, leaving the courtyard clear of enemies, although the gate remained an open maw through which he could see a great host of Redeemed approaching.

  “Lord Vaelin!”

  Looking up, Vaelin saw Sho Tsai looking down at him from the battlement. “Stahlhast have scaled the southern wall,” the general called, Vaelin following his pointed finger to see soldiers on the eastern battlement engaged in a furious struggle with hundreds of warriors. A glance to the west confirmed it; the second tier could not be held.

  “Fall back to the third tier!” Sho Tsai shouted. “I’ll organise the retreat! Hold the gate open for as long as possible!”

  Vaelin wanted to argue that the general should see to his own safety, but Sho Tsai was gone before he could voice a protest. Rallying the Skulls and what remained of the two veteran regiments, he ordered them through the gate in the walls of the third and final tier.

  “Juhkar!” he called, seeing the tracker lingering in the corpse-strewn courtyard. “We need your bow on the upper wall.”

  Juhkar ignored him, his features set in a frown of deep concentration, a predatory gleam in his eye.

  “Juhkar,” Vaelin repeated, moving to grab the Gifted’s arm. “We have to go.”

  “He’s here,” the tracker said, teeth bared in a hungry grin. “So close . . . I can smell his stench. Just one scratch of the arrowhead and this all ends.”

  “There are too many . . .” Vaelin began but Juhkar tore his arm free and sprinted away, disappearing into a nearby alley. Vaelin stared helplessly in his wake, fighting down the urge to follow, before turning and running for the upper gate.

  The third tier had only one gate, smaller than the others and concealed within a tunnel some twenty feet long. Once through, Vaelin ordered one of the Skulls to fetch Ellese from the temple, knowing her bow would be sorely needed, then gathered as many crossbowmen as he could, placing them atop the battlement directly above the gate. These walls were the highest of the city’s three tiers, and the thickest. The Darkblade’s army would face a daunting task in scaling such a barrier, but only if they faced a meaningful defence.

  Soldiers came streaming in their hundreds through the streets of the second tier as resistance on the walls began to collapse. So many crowded the gate that Vaelin organised a squad of the burliest sergeants to drag them through to prevent a blockage. He also ordered ropes cast over so others could climb or be hauled up. Hearing Nortah call his name from the battlement, he rapidly scaled the nearest stairwell, finding his brother regarding the sight below with grim resignation.

  “They’re not going to make it, brother,” he said.

  Viewing the scene, Vaelin saw little reason to argue. The second-tier walls were now entirely in the hands of the Stahlhast, whilst an ever-growing number of Redeemed were pouring through the sundered gate. Only one knot of resistance remained, a cluster of denuded regiments formed into a circle that revolved continually as it tried to fight its way to the third tier. In the centre the banner of the Red Scouts could be seen alongside the general’s pennant. The circle moved at an impressively steady pace despite the repeated assaults launched against its flanks, inching closer to the upper wall by the second, but also losing men with every step.

  “You have work for me, Uncle?” Ellese asked, appearing at Vaelin’s side. “Where’s Juhkar?” she added, looking around for the tracker.

  “He has his own mission,” Vaelin said. Moving to the wall he pointed to the centre of the encircled infantry. “Keep the general alive,” he told Ellese and Nortah. “Nothing else matters.”

  Vaelin watched the continually shrinking formation of soldiers fight its way step by painful step towards the gate, assailed on all sides by an ever-increasing number of Stahlhast and Redeemed. The crossbowmen laboured to hurl repeated volleys into the ranks of the attackers, but for every warrior their bolts claimed, another three would come charging from the gate or the walls. Nortah and Ellese loosed their shafts at a more sedate pace, killing any warrior who seemed likely to force a breach in the soldiers’ tight-packed ranks. Whatever madness-inducing power Kehlbrand had over these people had not abated. It required two of Ellese’s poisoned shafts to put down one large, bear-like man who used a blacksmith’s hammer to club his way into the circle before collapsing into a wreck of bloodless flesh and bone.

  Once the circle had forced its way to within twenty yards of the gate, a series of horns sounded out from its centre. In an obviously pre-planned move the circle became a diamond, the north-facing ranks charging for the gate whilst the others back-pedalled in their wake. The soldiers at the front charged with the deadly ferocity of men facing imminent death, cutting through a dense but disorganised mass of enemies to reach the wall. As they did so the ranks behind fanned out, forming a half-circle around the gate.

  Vaelin ordered rocks and oil over the wall, deluging the attackers on either side of the half-circle whilst the crossbowmen continued to assail those to the front. It began to shrink as soldiers started to make their way through the tunnel. Vaelin was once again impressed by the discipline of Merchant soldiery, each squad continuing to fight until they were ordered through the gate, at which point they would deliver a final lunge of their spears before retreating, soldiers on either side moving to fill the gap.

  Soon the half-circle had shrunk to a third of its former size, and still hadn’t broken. Vaelin could see Sho Tsai and Tsai Lin at the apex of the arc of struggling soldiers, fighting side by side. The general fought with an economic lethality, his sword lancing out to stab at the faces and necks of his assailants, barking out orders to his men all the while. Tsai Lin had claimed a Stahlhast sabre in addition to his own sword and fought with both weapons, slashing left and right with the kind of deadly precision that Vaelin knew could only be the result of a lifetime of expert tutelage.

  “Lord!”

  Vaelin turned to find one of the crossbowmen stepping back from the wall, gesturing helplessly at his empty quiver. A glance at the man’s comrades confirmed they had all either exhausted their bolts or were about to do so.

  “General!” Vaelin cupped his hands around his mouth to call down to Sho Tsai, hoping he could be heard above the tumult of battle. “No more time!”

  Sho Tsai gave the briefest glance in his direction, a Stahlhast taking advantage of his distraction to dart forward with his sabre raised before falling dead with Nortah’s arrow jutting from his shoulder. Sho Tsai barked out a series of orders that sent the remaining soldiers running for the gate. The orderly withdrawal was forgotten now as they scrambled for safety. Sho Tsai and Tsai Lin continued to back towards the gate, fighting all the way u
nder cover of Nortah and Ellese’s arrows, claiming another half-dozen warriors in the time it took the pair to reach the tunnel. By then a group of Redeemed had forced their way into the knot of soldiers trying to reach the gate, killing many and invading the passage.

  Vaelin didn’t hesitate in shouting out his next order. There was no choice if the third tier was to be held. “Bar the gate!”

  As the order was relayed down to the soldiers guarding the tunnel, Vaelin rushed towards the nearest rope, gathering it up and casting it over the parapet. The tail end landed directly between Sho Tsai and Tsai Lin. They backed against the wall to the left of the tunnel, flanked by perhaps twenty surviving soldiers, mostly Red Scouts, Corporal Wei amongst them. Vaelin saw the general push the rope at his son and then voice a harsh, implacable command when the Dai Lo shook his head. Tsai Lin paused to block a thrust from a Redeemed, using his sabre to parry the enemy’s blade as his sword came round to lop the man’s arm off above the elbow. Casting the sabre aside, he sheathed his sword, took hold of the rope and began to climb.

  The general turned to Corporal Wei, jerking his head at the rope. The corporal drove his fist into the face of a snarling Redeemed, bowed low to his general and then, with a shout to his comrades, hurled himself into the ranks of their enemies. The soldiers formed a shield around their general, spears and swords hacking with furious energy. Seeing Sho Tsai hesitate, Vaelin shouted, “Without you, this city falls!”

  With a final glance at his men, the general sheathed his sword and gripped the rope, he and his son holding on as Vaelin and a score of crossbowmen and soldiers hauled them up.

  “The gate is barred,” Vaelin told Sho Tsai as he helped him over the parapet. “I had to . . .”

  “I know.” The general turned to regard the scene below, watching the last of the Red Scouts perish beneath a tide of stabbing, hacking Redeemed.

  With the slaughter complete the Darkblade’s host fell to a feral howl of triumph loud enough to pain the ears. They crowded the second tier from end to end, a sea of upturned faces, besmirched by the gore and soot of battle, all screaming their hate at the silent survivors on the final wall. Then, with a jarring suddenness, the roaring mob fell into a silence near absolute but for their laboured breathing.