“High King?” said Corbanic.
Arandar nodded, taking a deep breath and grasping Excalibur’s hilt.
“Keep them from the walls,” said Arandar.
Corbanic turned and shouted orders, and the blast of trumpets rose from the ramparts.
###
Gavin, Kharlacht, and Camorak hurried after Antenora as she jogged along the ramparts, yet another ball of fire spinning into existence above the end of her staff.
Around Gavin rose the sounds of battle. The catapults and ballistae released their missiles, raining stone balls and iron bolts on the charging locusari. As decurions and optios shouted orders to their soldiers, crossbowmen released their weapons, sending storms of steel-tipped bolts into the locusari. The rain of bolts and missiles proved effective. Several times the volleys landed amidst the locusari with enough force to break up the columns, the frozen poles falling to the ground. One catapult stone landed right in the middle of a frozen pole, the impact snapping it into a dozen glittering pieces.
But Antenora had a far more effective means of dealing with the poles.
She stepped to the battlements and thrust her staff over the edge, the burning sphere leaping from the end of her staff. The ball of fire arced across the pitted ground and landed amid a locusari column. The explosion killed four locusari warriors, flinging them into the air, but it proved more effective against the frozen pole. The fire blazed up and down the length of the pole, and it shattered into a thousand pieces.
It was the fourth such pole that Antenora had broken, and between the crossbows and the siege engines, the defenders had destroyed nearly half of the frozen poles and scattered their locusari columns. But the other half of the poles had nearly reached the walls.
“Make ready!” shouted a nearby decurion, pointing with his sword. “Spears, shields!” Militia spearmen stepped forward, shields raised, spears drawn back, even as the crossbowmen fired one final volley.
An instant later, twenty frozen poles rose and struck the battlements. White mist pulsed from their ends, hardening into ice that gripped the stone. The locusari had raised the poles at a steep angle, but they started scrambling up the poles, even as the waiting columns of locusari warriors charged forward. The sight of the insect-like creatures skittering up the poles reminded Gavin of watching ants climb a tree branch.
Except these ants were the size of a fighting man, and capable of killing with a single sweep of their blade-like forelimbs.
Gavin gripped Truthseeker, preparing himself to fight. Kharlacht drew his greatsword with a steely hiss, and Camorak stepped next to Antenora, white light glimmering around his fingers.
An instant later, the first locusari leaped on the walls, scythe-like forelimbs raised to strike.
Gavin moved to join the defense, but it hardly seemed necessary. The spearmen skewered the first locusari that came over the walls. The militia archers moved to either side of the spearmen, aimed at the frozen pole, and began shooting arrows. Their short bows weren’t nearly as powerful as the crossbows the men-at-arms used, but they could fire far more swiftly, and at such close range nearly every arrow landed home. Gavin looked up and down the wall and saw the same scenario repeated along the length of the northern wall.
Alone, there was absolutely no way the locusari could breach the defenses of Tarlion. Unfortunately, the locusari were not alone. The medvarth maneuvered into position behind them, and Gavin saw the khaldjari continuing work on their siege engines and towers. The magical defenses of Tarlion might have been able to turn aside the attack of the frost drakes, but Gavin wondered if they would prove strong enough to deflect the magic of the Frostborn themselves when the hour came.
Antenora moved to the battlements again, not far from where the locusari scrambled up their pole. She thrust her staff out and cast a spell, and a ball of fire leaped from its end and slammed into the pole. For an instant, its entire length blazed with fire, and the pole shattered, the pieces starting to evaporate even before they hit the ground. Nearly thirty locusari were on the pole, and most of them were killed when they hit the ground. Some survived and surged towards the wall, and for an instant, Gavin feared that they would be able to climb straight up the walls, just as the revenants had done at Dun Calpurnia. But even with their strength, the locusari could not pull themselves up, and they raced back towards their own lines.
“Come, Gavin Swordbearer,” said Antenora. “Let us find more of these poles. They are easy to break, and the khaldjari can waste their strength conjuring more of them.”
“Aye, my lady,” said Camorak. “The more of them you destroy, the more lives you save on our side.”
Antenora nodded, and they hurried west, pausing every few hundred yards to blast away another pole. Between the vigorous defense from the men-at-arms and Antenora’s systematic destruction of the ice poles, the locusari assault was making little headway against the walls of Tarlion.
But Gavin knew worse was coming.
###
Arandar watched the next wave of poles come towards the walls.
“I think they’re getting ready for a more serious attack,” said Corbanic, scowling over the battlements.
Arandar agreed. In the last two hours, the locusari had attacked the walls three times. Each time the attacks had been repulsed with little loss, and the locusari had failed to gain any footholds. Thousands of locusari had been slain. Yet the Frostborn could easily afford the losses, and the khaldjari kept churning out those frozen poles, even as they continued to labor on the siege towers and move their trebuchets into position. Arandar found himself envying the engineering prowess of the khaldjari. If he had possessed a company of khaldjari engineers during the siege of Tarlion, perhaps he could have defeated Tarrabus Carhaine with far fewer losses.
But this next attack looked more serious. Fifty groups of locusari had formed themselves up before the line of revenants, each group carrying an icy pole, and columns of locusari warriors waited behind the poles. That was bad enough, but the khaldjari were starting to move their massive trebuchets forward, and soon they would be within range of the walls.
“Better have our trebuchets start sighting on the enemy, your Majesty,” said Kors. “If the Frostborn fling their devil’s fire at our ramparts as the locusari attack, we’ll have a much harder time of it.”
“Aye,” said Arandar. The alchemical fire of the Frostborn had inflicted terrible losses at Dun Calpurnia. That had been bad enough, but Dun Calpurnia had been a ruin, its women and children fled. Tarlion was filled with its women and children and aged, and while Arandar had ordered that those too young or old or sick to fight or work were to take shelter, the fire of the Frostborn was powerful enough that it wouldn’t matter. The city was so crowded that anywhere a trebuchet missile landed, someone would die.
Men died in war. There was no way to avoid it, but it was especially cruel when the sword of battle fell upon women and children.
“Perhaps the magical defenses will block the fire,” said Constantine.
“I fear it may not, my lord Dux,” said Master Vesilius. “The ancient wards upon Tarlion block attacks of magic. If the Frostborn contrived through their sciences to build their weapon from a natural process, the magical defenses will not stop it.”
“Then we shall have to trust to the skill of our own engineers,” said Arandar. He looked at Corbanic. “Send a messenger to Lady Antenora. Tell her to focus on destroying the poles. The fewer locusari we have to fight, the better.”
“I’ll do it,” said Mara before Corbanic could move, and she vanished in a swirl of blue fire. Qhazulak let out an exasperated growl. Arandar supposed the Queen of Nightmane Forest ought not to be running messages, but the truth of the matter was that she could do it faster than anyone else. Jager would have been annoyed, but Jager was not here. He and Sir Joram had taken command of the city’s many churches, preparing them as hospitals to receive the wounded. So far, there had not been many wounded.
That was going to chang
e soon.
Blue fire swirled again as Mara returned. “Antenora will focus on the poles.”
“You should not go without an escort, my Queen,” said Qhazulak. “The foe will focus upon you, for you are a valuable target.”
“I know,” said Mara. She took a deep breath, the blue fire fading away from her veins. “And I will only do it for important messages.”
That was not quite an agreement, but apparently, Qhazulak knew better than to argue.
There was nothing more Arandar could do for now. He watched the battle unfold before the walls, the locusari rushing towards the city like a blue tide. The catapults, ballistae, and Antenora’s fire had accounted for five of the poles before they reached the ramparts, and the rest slammed against the walls, the locusari scaling the steep angle of the icy poles without fear or hesitation. More fire bloomed against the ramparts as Antenora unleashed her powers, blasting away the poles one by one. Men screamed and shouted as they fought, crossbows twanging and bolts hissing through the air. Arandar saw a man-at-arms overbalance and fall from the ramparts, screaming he fell to his death among the locusari carcasses lying motionless below the walls. The fighting was fierce, but the men of Andomhaim were holding, and the locusari assault was failing.
Then distant clangs rang out from the Frostborn lines, the sound of mighty gears groaning and creaking under strain.
“Their engines have fired!” shouted Dux Kors.
Arandar watched as four fireballs rose from the Frostborn trebuchets, leaving a trail of black smoke in their wake. They hurtled through the sky with terrifying speed. The shots had not been aimed well, not at first, and one of them struck the ground fifty yards from the walls, exploding in a bloom of flame. Another hit the wall midway up its height and exploded with terrific force, the rampart vibrating beneath Arandar’s boots.
One more struck the ramparts themselves, exploding and killing a score of men and setting more aflame, their screams louder than even the howl of the flames. The final missile landed behind the wall and struck a house, the blast throwing clay tiles and bricks in all directions. More screams rose from the city, and Arandar saw burning people stumble from the front door of the house.
“Corbanic, get those fires out!” said Arandar. “And signal the trebuchets to release!”
Corbanic shouted the orders, and some of the militiamen rushed towards the houses with buckets of sand. Jager had somehow found the time to locate a supply of sand for fighting fires and distributed it throughout the city, thank God. An instant later, eight of the trebuchets mounted upon the walls released, throwing fireballs of their own towards the Frostborn host. Their fire would not burn as hot as the alchemical weapon of the Frostborn, but the massive stones had been lathered in pitch and set ablaze.
Two of the shots landed amidst the Frostborn camps, crushing medvarth warriors and their tents. Three more of the missiles missed the trebuchets and landed on the khaldjari swarming around the machines, killing dozens of them at once. The remaining three shots hit the trebuchets. One of the engines was destroyed, breaking apart into wreckage and splinters. Another was damaged, gears and timbers flying from its sides. A ragged cheer rose from the ramparts, at least from the men not occupied with the locusari.
“Have the trebuchets focus on the enemy siege engines,” said Arandar, watching as the distant khaldjari swarmed around their trebuchets. At least two of the massive weapons could still fire, and the khaldjari were already laboring to reload their machines. “Keep the ballistae and smaller catapults in reserve for dealing with the locusari and those siege towers, if they ever start moving.”
“Your Majesty,” acknowledged Corbanic, and he issued the commands.
The battle grew deadlier. The locusari continued their steady surge towards the wall, swarming up the frozen poles to leap upon the battlements. Antenora kept blasting the poles away from the ramparts, but the khaldjari had a seemingly endless ability to create new ones. Worse, the khaldjari pulled more trebuchets into range, and soon the massive siege engines dueled. Arandar soon realized that in this, at least, the men of Tarlion had an advantage. The height of the walls meant that the trebuchets on the towers had better range and accuracy, and the khaldjari could not bring their trebuchets close enough for accurate fire. More often than not, their shots went awry. Yet their missiles still exploded upon the ramparts, fell into the city proper, or slammed into the walls. The walls shook with every impact, the ramparts vibrating beneath Arandar’s boots, and he feared that the khaldjari would manage to concentrate their fire and focus on pounding away at a section of the wall. Vesilius’s fear had proven accurate, and the magical defenses did not stop the fire of the Frostborn missiles.
And still the stream of locusari charging towards the wall did not stop.
Arandar remembered the tale about the frog sitting in a pot of boiling water, unaware that death approached as the water slowly grew hotter. That was the strategy of Lord Commander Kajaldrakthor and his warriors. He would increase the pressure on Tarlion bit by bit until something cracked.
Some of the siege towers jerked and started rolling forward, pushed by teams of medvarth warriors.
###
Gavin stood with the other Swordbearers, watching the siege towers roll yard by yard towards the ramparts.
It was a disquieting sight. The towers were huge constructions of wood and metal, armored in front with plates of steel to deflect arrows and bolts. Each tower rested upon eight massive, iron-studded wheels, and those wheels turned slowly as the medvarth pushed the hulking things forward. The amount of labor it had taken to build those towers staggered Gavin, and he knew it would take a tremendous amount of muscle power to roll the tower forward.
Yet the medvarth managed it. Yard by yard the towers came closer. Behind each tower marched a column of medvarth warriors armored in plate steel, massive shields raised over their heads, while the medvarth on the flanks of the column held their shields to cover their flanks. The crossbowmen sent flights of quarrels at the formations, but most of them deflected off the heavy shields. One of the catapults would have proved more effective, but all the catapults were hammering at the siege towers, and their trebuchets continued the long-range duel with the khaldjari engines.
“Testudo,” said Camorak.
“What?” said Gavin.
“A formation the Romans used on Old Earth,” said Camorak, pointing at the shielded columns of medvarth following the towers. “They bunch up and cover each other with their shields. Lets them take a lot more arrow fire than they could otherwise.”
“And,” said Kharlacht, “it lets them stay behind the tower until it reaches the walls.”
“Letting them scramble up to fight us,” said Gavin, looking around at the others.
As the siege towers drew closer to the ramparts, Master Marhand had summoned the Swordbearers, dividing them into groups to face the coming towers. The medvarth were far more dangerous than the locusari, and if enough of them hit the walls at once, they might carve out a foothold.
Gavin stood with Kharlacht and six Swordbearers, ready to charge and drive back any medvarth that reached the walls. Behind him waited Antenora and Camorak, both ready with their spells. Antenora had tried throwing a few fireballs at the towers, but she had been unable to set them ablaze. The armor plating on the front of the towers soaked up the flames, and she had only been able to make the wood of the tower smolder a bit.
No, if she was to bring her magic to bear against the towers, she would have to wait until their ramps fell.
There was a tearing crash as a catapult stone tore through the upper third of one of the siege towers. Broken beams and twisted steel rained in all directions, and the top of the tower wobbled and fell to the side, shattering against the ground. Gavin saw slain medvarth lying in the wreckage, and a cheer rose from the ramparts. Another tower foundered in one of the pits left over from the ruined siege walls. The khaldjari had been trying to smooth over those pits with bridges of ice, only to fall pre
y to constant crossbow fire. But they hadn’t smoothed the pit quite enough, and the tower overbalanced and fell, killing both the medvarth and the khaldjari engineers in its ruin.
But of the first ten towers to make the advance, Gavin suspect at least six of them would reach the walls…and nearly thirty more of the wheeled towers waited with the Frostborn.
“Make ready!” roared the knight commanding this section of the wall, a middle-aged knight in a blue surcoat, the red dragon of the Pendragons upon his chest. “Spears in front, crossbows behind! When the ramp comes down, let the Swordbearers go first! Follow up and strike to support them!”
“Lucky us,” said one of the older Swordbearers, a grizzled knight Gavin did not know. Yet the strategy was sound. The Swordbearers could hit harder and move faster than any other men in the army.
“But once you have pushed back the medvarth,” said Antenora, “clear a path for me to strike.” Already a sphere of flame the size of her head whirled over the end of her staff. “The tower shall be easier to burn from within.”
“We’re about to find out,” said Kharlacht.
The tower had almost reached the wall, so close that the engines could no longer target it. A massive steel ramp closed off the top of the tower, held vertical against its crown. Through gaps in the wood and metal, Gavin glimpsed the jagged fur and black eyes of medvarth warriors.
Then the ramp fell against the ramparts with a clang, and the fighting began.
Elite medvarth warriors in plate armor stormed down the ramp, roaring at the top of their lungs, massive tower shields on their left arms and heavy axes in their right. Gavin shouted and charged, the Swordbearers and Kharlacht following him, and they met the enemy.
Frostborn: The Shadow Prison (Frostborn #15) Page 23
