The Long War 03 - The Red Prince

by A. J. Smith

  ‘Reload those catapults,’ ordered Xander. ‘Sight them at the gates.’

  Sigurd and his Dokkalfar left the catapults and Hawks of Ro reloaded with heavy boulders. They cranked the frames forward and sighted them along a level plane.

  Once past the sea wall, the fleet spread out again, forming a fast-moving wedge, pointed at the huge wooden dock platforms. More bells rang as commands travelled across the ships and men prepared for combat.

  ‘Barricade before the gate, general,’ said Brennan. ‘Few hundred men.’

  ‘Pull in sails,’ boomed Xander. ‘Brace for impact.’

  The dock snaked into the water, resting on solid wooden pillars. The stone waterfront began well back from the dock and, as the Wave Runner slowed, it ploughed into wooden planks. The ram sliced into the jetties, sending more splinters across the deck and gradually bringing the ship to a halt.

  There was a moment of silence. Or maybe she just imagined it was silence. It was certainly stillness. A spray of wood and water had reduced her vision for a second and she could only see Daganay and a dozen Hawks. When the air cleared, she saw hundreds of faces – nervous men of Ro aiming crossbows with shaking hands. They crouched behind a barricade on the stone waterfront, guarding the gates of their city. Then more ships smashed into the wooden platforms, bringing back chaos and noise. Twenty ships laden with warriors, weapons, catapults and supplies stopped before the walls of Ro Tiris.

  ‘To arms!’ Xander drew Peacekeeper and was the first to leap from the ship. He landed on hardened wood and was followed by two hundred Hawks from the Wave Runner. They slid down broken planks and flooded on to the dock, their voices rising in primal roars of challenge.

  Gwendolyn and Daganay looked at each other and joined them, vaulting from the ship. Bells sounded all around – from their ships, indicating the attack, and from the city, signalling the defence.

  Crossbow bolts flew from the barricade and men fell, but the Hawks kept moving. From other ships more feet hit the wood and the attack began. They swarmed the barricade from all sides, meeting little resistance. Xander leapt at a guardsman, cleaving in his skull with a powerful downward stroke. Brennan kicked a crossbow from a man’s hand and ran him through. Gwen and Daganay, a little way behind the others, engaged a small group of armoured men. Even as the white eagle of Tiris fronting their chain mail turned blood red, the battle had a sour note to it. Ro fought Ro and, however just their cause, their enemies were not the men before them. Their enemies were skulking behind high walls and letting common folk do their fighting.

  The barricade was overturned by the Hawks and those guardsmen not already dead ran for the city walls. Over their heads, the Wave Runner launched two boulders at the city gates, firing horizontally. The gates were solid and reinforced with metal but they had not been tested by catapults for hundreds of years.

  The initial surge was too much for the guardsmen. Once the Hawks had fought beyond the barricade and on to the wooden dock, the defenders were completely routed. Thousands of warriors – Hawks of Ro, men of Tiris, and Dokkalfar – now formed up and advanced.

  Once again, she felt for the citizens of Ro Tiris. Not the watchmen or the clerics, but the ordinary folk, huddling behind shutters, seeing an army arrive at their city gates.

  ‘Lock shields and advance,’ commanded Xander, pulling Brennan over the barricade to join him on the dock.

  Just behind, Bromvy and Tyr Sigurd had caught up with them. The Dokkalfar of Canarn did not mingle with the Hawks but were formed into a tight mob, each Tyr wielding two heavy leaf-blades.

  ‘Smooth,’ said Brom to Gwen. ‘I think they call that a frontal assault.’ The young lord had his sword in hand and blood dripped from the blade, showing that he had not been too late to join the initial attack.

  ‘Your general is direct,’ offered Sigurd, ‘but effective.’

  ‘He’s angry,’ replied Gwen. ‘He can be very direct when he’s angry.’

  ‘Maybe we should take cover,’ said Daganay, as crossbow bolts began to thud into the wooden dock around them.

  Joining the advancing army, they caught up with Xander and ran to reach the walls. Men fell from rocks and crossbow bolts, but the armies of Haran and Canarn were too many and reached the walls of Tiris in quick time. The shield formation moved to cover them and they spread out along the base of the wall either side of the huge gates.

  The catapult crews aboard the Wave Runner had stopped firing for a moment, allowing the army to reach the walls, but now they aimed and sighted with care. Both catapults fired together, sending huge boulders over the dock and into the gates of Ro Tiris.

  ‘Again,’ roared Xander, waving Peacekeeper at the catapult crews.

  Another volley. The gates creaked and wooden splinters went flying, but the metal struts held firm, barring their passage. Two flanking ships aimed their catapults and the additional support – six large stone boulders in total – smashed the top half of the wooden gates to pieces. The metal bands kept the wood intact and there was no viable breach.

  ‘Hold, lads,’ commanded Brennan. ‘Keep those shields up.’ His words were punctuated by the thud of rocks thrown from above and impacting on the raised shields.

  ‘We can’t stay here long,’ said Brom, hugging the wall next to Gwendolyn. They’ll have hot oil and pitch.’

  ‘The gates will give,’ replied Xander stubbornly. ‘Again!’ he shouted.

  Just as Gwen was beginning to doubt the wisdom of their frontal assault, the catapults fired again. They were well aimed and caused a huge cloud of dust and splinters to fly up, and there was a thud as the boulders landed in the stone street beyond.

  Her ears rang. Once the dust had cleared, the gates were gone. The metal had buckled and skeletal remnants of wood hung limply either side of the stone gateway.

  ‘Brennan, lock shields and advance. I want to know what’s inside,’ ordered the general.

  ‘Tight formation!’ shouted the captain, and a hundred men of the first cohort assumed a defensive posture, locking their rectangular shields into a solid protective block. Rocks were still being thrown down from above and crossbow bolts fired, but they only struck the raised shields as Brennan moved the cohort towards the open gateway.

  ‘Steady!’ he commanded from within the tight formation.

  The shell of Hawks advanced and halted, slamming their shields to the ground and maintaining their defensive position. Xander motioned for men to follow and moved quickly behind the formation, keeping his head low and Peacekeeper high. Brom joined him and the two lords of Tor Funweir peered through the open gateway.

  ‘Sigurd,’ said Brom. ‘Think you can get up to the battlements?’

  ‘Most definitely,’ replied the Dokkalfar, thrusting out his chin.

  Gwen stayed back, hugging the wall with Daganay under a ceiling of interlocked shields. She could not see any defensive assault from within the walls, and Brennan’s advance cohort had not been attacked with either blades or bows. Whoever was guarding the inner courtyard had allowed the formation to advance into the gateway.

  ‘I am the Red Prince of Ro Haran,’ shouted Xander, addressing whoever was there. ‘We are the Hawks of Ro. Stand down and you will not be harmed. The city that bears my name is now under my protection.’

  ‘Prince Alexander!’ came a response. ‘This is Cardinal Severen. By what right do you sail an army into the king’s dock?’

  Daganay spat at the man’s name. ‘I hate Purple clerics,’ he said through gritted teeth.

  Gwen moved forwards, motioning for the Blue cleric to follow, and the two of them crouched behind the advance cohort. Beyond the shattered gates, wooden barricades circled the inner courtyard, blocking their passage into the city streets. Overhead the white Spire of the King and the clenched fist of the Red cathedral competed to dominate of the skyline. Hundreds of steel and leather helmets poked above the barricades and many more men skulked on rooftops and battlements. Some aimed crossbows, some brandished blades and spears.
The urban warriors of Tiris were professionals, but they were not an army.

  ‘Where’s the cardinal hiding?’ mused Daganay, pointing to a statue. ‘I think I see purple over there.’

  The statue was of a Gold cleric, gleefully hefting bags of coin.

  ‘We are not here to sack the city, cardinal,’ replied Xander in a shout. ‘We are here to liberate it from the Seven Sisters.’

  Severen’s response was a virtual shriek. ‘Lord Archibald Tiris commands here. Your actions mark you as a traitor, Prince Alexander. We will never betray our beloved allies.’

  Gwen followed his voice and saw a small group of purple-clad warriors behind the statue. They were beyond the barricades, protected by lesser clerics, with their backs to the knight marshal’s office.

  ‘General!’ she shouted to her husband. ‘The cleric speaks from the gold statue.’

  ‘Advance!’ commanded Xander, without replying.

  The first cohort, still locked in tightly behind their shields, spread out and covered the entranceway as two more cohorts moved to join them. Behind, the army had moved on to the stone waterfront and was holding position behind shield walls. Tyr Sigurd and two dozen forest-dwellers of Canarn had disappeared along the outer wall.

  ‘Keep it tight,’ shouted Brennan, as the first few hundred Hawks cleared the gateway and entered Ro Tiris.

  ‘This advance stops when you surrender,’ said Xander. ‘Don’t make us kill any more men of Ro. And don’t make me kill you.’

  They were now within the courtyard, their steel-shod boots clattering on the cobbled ground.

  Shouting from the guardsmen. Orders were passed and men moved quickly to strengthen the barricades. Those on high ground fired crossbows against the shield wall and others prepared cauldrons of boiling oil.

  A scream came from above and a guardsman fell to the cobbles, his head severed from his body. More bodies fell as Tyr Sigurd and the Dokkalfar swept across the battlements.

  ‘Risen men!’ screamed a man of Ro. ‘Monsters, risen to haunt us.’

  The forest-dwellers made no noise and Gwen had to crane her neck to see them. They whirled and cartwheeled across the stone, killing men with inhuman efficiency.

  ‘Kill the creatures,’ ordered Severen, emerging from cover with his fellow clerics.

  The first cohort sped up. With no more crossbow bolts or pitch to concern them, they quickly reached the far barricade. In front, the main road led away from the harbour, past the knight marshal’s office, to the white Spire of the King and the House of Tiris.

  ‘Last chance,’ roared Xander, as the first cohort halted.

  ‘We will fight to the last man,’ replied Severen, making himself visible for the first time.

  The Purple cardinal of Ro Tiris, second only to Mobius of the Falls, was a tall man, well armoured in gold and steel, with a broken nose and a lame right arm.

  ‘Don’t be a fucking fool,’ shouted Daganay, unleashing his frustration. ‘Don’t die for an enchantress.’

  ‘She loves us!’ shrieked the cardinal. ‘Kill them all.’

  Many guardsmen were hesitant, seeing the Hawks flooding into their city, but a few of the most loyal and committed followed the cardinal’s orders. The flanking barricades burst open and the warriors of Ro Tiris rushed the attackers.

  ‘Break into wings!’ ordered Xander.

  The first cohort parted, forming two wings, spreading either side of the general in a V shape. They met the oncoming guardsmen with locked shields and thrusting swords, dropping a dozen men in the first clash. Behind, more Hawks advanced to cover their flanks, driving their opponents back. The defenders screamed orders as they tried to fight back, but the Hawks methodically blunted their efforts.

  Hundreds of men of Tiris were running, abandoning their posts and fleeing from the attackers. The Purple clerics shouted at those who were retreating, threatening a gruesome death for all deserters, but their words were not heard.

  Gwen stood with Xander and Brom at the front. The Purple clerics had advanced, with only men and a low wooden barricade between them.

  ‘Clear the front,’ shouted Xander.

  The Hawks holding the point rushed forward, parting to allow their general to advance. Brennan leapt atop the wood, slamming back a guardsman with a heavy bash of his shield. Brom went the other way, shoulder-charging a man off the barricade.

  Things became chaotic. They were at the front of the attack now, fighting a solid block of men. Gwen, Daganay and the others fought either side of Xander, helping him push towards the clerics. Their advance was measured, with attacks coming from between shields. Only Brom and Xander fought in the open, sweeping across the wooden barricade towards the gold statue.

  She ducked a spear thrust and saw the defender killed by a Hawk to her left. She returned the favour a moment later, slicing the neck of a man attacking Daganay. They fought as one, each man defending those around him.

  ‘Prince Alexander!’ shouted Severen. ‘You will die for this.’

  The cardinal was holding a jewelled longsword in his left hand. It was evident that the man was incapable of fighting effectively with a lame sword arm.

  Xander broke the line of guardsmen and engaged a Purple cleric, grasping Peacekeeper in both hands and thrusting it through the man’s chest. Behind him, the wedge of Hawks had smashed their way through the defences and most of the guardsmen were now retreating.

  ‘Fight, you cowards,’ screamed Severen. ‘Fight for our beloved allies.’

  Gwen paused, watching the cardinal through the melee. She was protected by a shield to her left and took aim carefully. Her leaf-blade cut the air between them, over Xander’s shoulder, to lodge in Severen’s neck. He fell, clutching at the blade and flapping his arms.

  ‘We are the Hawks of Ro. Stand down or die,’ bellowed Captain Brennan.

  Xander and Brom reached the clear street. Hundreds of Hawks followed, their interlocked shields covering any possibility of the defenders rallying for a counter-attack.

  ‘Stand down!’ repeated Xander.

  Spears and swords were thrown to the ground. Men dropped to their knees and begged for mercy. It was a disordered surrender, but it was enough. The Hawks held position, a line of shields creating a semicircle round the gateway. The ground had been taken and the soldiers of Haran and Canarn now flooded into the city and on to the battlements.

  ‘Secure the gate, Brennan,’ ordered Xander, more calmly now. ‘And gather those that surrendered.’

  He stepped over a dead cleric and approached Cardinal Severen, sprawled on the road.

  ‘Brom, Daganay, you’re with me,’ said Xander. He turned to his wife and smiled thinly. With a gentle beckoning gesture, he motioned her to come to him.

  Gwen tuned out the sounds of dying men and metal-clad soldiers. She stood face to face with Xander, inspecting a deep cut to his cheek.

  ‘Still alive, my love?’ she asked.

  ‘Tired, but alive,’ he replied. ‘Give me a kiss.’

  She held his head gently and planted a deep kiss on his mouth. Closing her eyes, she tasted blood on his lips and salty sweat.

  ‘That was a good throw,’ he said, turning towards Severen.

  Their moment of calm passed and they returned to the bloody cobblestones of Ro Tiris. Brom and Daganay were with them, both cleaning blood from their weapons. The four warriors stood round Cardinal Severen. He was alive, but gasping for breath, with Gwen’s leaf-blade lodged deeply in his neck.

  ‘I did my duty,’ spluttered Severen. ‘I did only what she wanted.’ His eyes were wide and manic. ‘She loves us and we love her.’

  ‘It’s not your fault, brother,’ said Daganay, kneeling down next to his fellow cleric. ‘Your mind is not your own. We follow the One... as you once did.’

  There was conflict in the dying man’s eyes.

  ‘Die easy, Cardinal Severen of Tiris,’ said Daganay, closing the man’s eyes as he stopped breathing.

  * * *

  Gwen stoo
d behind Xander and Brom as the two lords of Tor Funweir flung open the doors to the House of Tiris. Gold-armoured king’s men guarded the royal compound. They did not throw down their swords, but backed away and allowed the first cohort of Ro Haran to advance without a fight. Within, they strode across carpeted floors, trailing blood and dirt into the opulent building.

  ‘Cousin!’ shouted Xander. ‘Do you want me to drag you out from under your bed or will you come and stand before me?’

  They fanned out, creating alarm among the household servants, who dropped whatever they were doing and fled into the palace, hiding behind doors and cowering under furniture.

  Brom puffed out his cheeks and sank into a padded chair, cocking a leg over the arm. ‘Can’t he hurry up, we’ve been on our feet for a while?’

  ‘Is there any wine?’ asked Daganay, looking at a gold-inlayed table.

  ‘Er, yes,’ replied Brom, reaching for a crystal decanter.

  The lord of Canarn winced, rubbing his chest where a glancing sword blow had split his armour. He loosened the shoulder strap and pulled away a broken metal section.

  Daganay strolled over to him and assisted in pouring two glasses of wine. ‘Anyone else?’ asked the cleric.

  A few Hawks smiled and looked hopefully at their general.

  ‘Sorry, lads, ’tis the privilege of clerics and lords,’ joked Gwen, waving away an offered glass.

  A sound from above drew all their eyes. From the top of a sweeping staircase strode a group of men. At the fore was a Karesian man in black armour. His scimitar was sheathed, but he stood protectively in front of Archibald Tiris. Xander’s cousin was a thin man, with receding hair and sickly yellow skin. His eyes were unfocused and he appeared enchanted. Behind, among the guardsmen, was a striking figure in silvery plate armour. His cloak was white and he wore a greatsword across his back.

  ‘Good day, cousin,’ said Xander, slowly drawing his bastard sword. ‘Step forward and be judged.’

  ‘Blasphemer,’ slurred the Karesian. ‘The Seven Sisters hold sway here.’

  Xander threw his head back in laughter. He rested Peacekeeper across his shoulders and ambled forward, placing a foot on the bottom step.