by G R Matthews
“Captain Zhou,” the section sergeant acknowledged him, “changeover is due in thirty minutes. It’s been quiet all night, the Yaart haven’t moved. I haven’t heard any construction noises since midnight.”
“Thank you, Sergeant.” Zhou returned the brief bow and peered out into the darkness. The Yaart camp was easy to see, marked out by lines of camp fires burning brightly. Beyond those fires, at night, it was difficult to see anything and if you looked too long, you lost your night vision.
“I’ll get one of the men to bring you a tea, Sir,” the sergeant said quietly.
“Appreciated, Sergeant, just make sure you get one yourself,” Zhou spoke in an early morning voice, pitched low to carry.
“Oh no, Sir. Never be able to sleep if I have a tea now,” and there was a smile in sergeant’s voice.
Zhou chuckled in return. The soldiers had shown him respect as soon as he had shown up for duty after his promotion on the first day of the siege. The sergeant had explained that Zhou was the one man who had seen through the Yaart scheme and now the men thought he was a lucky talisman. Zhou did not disabuse them of the notion even though it was based on a lie. Morale was vital right now.
A glimpse of something between the camp fires gave Zhou pause, “Sergeant, don’t bother with the tea. Get the men up, check armour and weapons. See if you can rouse a messenger, we'll need to get a message to the Duke’s Commander. Tell him, they are coming.”
“Bugger,” was the sergeant’s single word of acknowledgement before he marched off to rouse the men.
All along the walls, in every section, there was commotion and shouting. Zhou was sure he was not the only one who had seen the movement in the enemy camp. He stood still as all around him men bustled about him. The sounds of creaking leather, metal on metal, and gruff, sleepy voices were a strange dawn chorus.
The sun peeked over the mountains and its rays lit first the Yaart camp and then the walls of the city. In between the two and crawling forward in rhythmic lines, the massed army of Yaart. Leading the way were siege engines pulled by teams of horses. Zhou shaded his eyes from the dawn light and saw two covered battering rams, several siege towers and more than ten catapults and stone throwers.
“Sergeant,” Zhou called, “make sure each team has a brazier lit and contained. We may be needing the flame arrows before today is done. When the replacements get here, instruct them and then rotate the tired men out. You make sure you get some rest yourself. It is likely to be a long day.”
# # #
Zhou ducked behind the stone battlement as another stone flew over his head, a few feet too high. There was a crunching noise as it landed somewhere in the city behind him. He did not turn to look where, it was not the first one and it would be far from the last.
“Sergeant,” he called then, spotting the man hunkered down behind his own battlement, crawled over to him. “Looks like they are starting to find their range. Won’t be long till the wall starts to take a beating. Get the men ready to move, no point being on the walls whilst they pound it. Leave a man on top, and rotate him out regularly. Once they start bringing up the towers, rams and men, I want to know. We’ll return to the wall then.”
The sergeant gave Zhou a smile, “Wise move, Sir. Not sure the Commanders will see it that way. In my experience, they usually like someone on the walls for the enemy to aim at.”
“We’ll convey them my apologies, if they survive,” Zhou returned a savage grin.
“Of course, Sir.” Despite their crouched positions the sergeant tried to bow.
In short course, Zhou’s section of wall was cleared of troops. The one left at the top had lain down behind the parapet. The sergeant moved the troops a little away from the wall, hopefully out of range of any falling blocks when, and if, the wall succumbed to the upcoming battering. The men, every able bodied man left in the city, soldiers mixed in with citizens, traders, and administration staff, found room to sit down. A few used the time to dive into their day rations and take the moment’s peace to eat.
A few more heavy stones whistled over to crash into the city, then came the first deafening crack as a stone hit the city walls. The shouts and screams did not come from Zhou’s section but further along the wall. Outside the city walls, a loud cheer carried on the wind. After the first success, the stones found the walls more and more often until it was a rare occurrence for one to miss.
For two more hours, the stones pounded the walls and Zhou, under the warm noon sun, was fighting a headache. He ground his teeth together on every impact, the muscles of his jaw throbbed.
“Sir, look.” A corporal grabbed Zhou’s sleeve and pointed at the battlements. On top, the lone watcher was signalling to him. The enemy were on the march.
“Sergeant, get the lads up and on the wall. Looks like they got bored with throwing their little stones at our walls,” Zhou shouted, settling the helmet on his head and tightening the straps.
“Put your food away. Check armour and weapons, and when you’ve stopped shitting yourselves, get up on that wall. Time to show them what soldiering is all about.” The sergeant walked amongst the men, clapping them on the back, kicking their legs, nothing in true anger but playing the role perfectly.
The men staggered to their feet and began filing off, back up the stairs onto the walls and resuming their hunkered down positions behind the battlements. There were cries of alarm and orders shouted all along the wall, then the sky darkened with a cloud of arrows. They flew over the battlements and into the houses and businesses behind.
Zhou heard the sergeant bellowing to keep their heads down. It was not advice that Zhou needed but it was expected and comforting for him and the rest of the men. Lying on his back, Zhou attached a small mirror to a thin metal pole which he raised above the battlements. The mirror was angled so that he could see the field before the gates. There, in the distance, and looking incredibly small in the mirror, was a dark line of men marching towards the walls. Those men surrounded tall siege towers and battering rams.
“Any second now, line one,” Zhou whispered to himself as he focused on the image reflected in the mirror.
There was a thump and the wall under Zhou's feet shook. This time it was not from a stone crashing into the wall. In the mirror, Yaart troops pin-wheeled into the air, thrown up and out by an explosion of noise and flame. There were three more explosions along the Yaart line and a billowing cloud of dirt obscured Zhou's view. When it cleared he could see that they still marched on.
“Line two,” and he continued to watch the scene unfold.
From the ground, two giant figures rose, statues of the rock and mud. They tore themselves free of the earth which had given birth to them and began to march towards the line of Yaart troops. Now came screams from the fields as the golems began to stomp and swing at the enemy soldiers. Those unlucky enough to be in their path were killed quickly and bloodily. The Yaart line wavered, faltered and was checked by this onslaught. Yaart troops clustered around the legs of the beasts, flailing, stabbing and dying.
Then from the clear sky, grey clouds gathered above the golems and rain fell heavily upon them. At first there was no impact, but the deluge did not stop. The downpour soaked into their skin and they began to slow and stumble as the dirt they were made of became heavy with water. Gullies formed as the run-off eroded the golems’ mud brown flesh. The gullies deepened to canyons, arteries of water in their arms, legs and torso. As the monsters came to a standstill they began to break apart, arms hung loose and with the sound of tearing they fell to the ground. Soon, both golems were mere piles of stone on the ground that had birthed them. The army marched on.
“Line three,” Zhou whispered with hope in his voice.
Under the feet of the advancing Yaart soldiers, great geysers of superheated steam erupted. The Yaart troops screamed in ear-splitting agony as they were boiled alive inside their armour. The line halted again and the smell of cooking human flesh wafted over the city walls. Wubei troops, up and down the wa
ll, gagged, spat and vomited.
Again clouds formed but this time a chill wind blew from them and a blizzard of snow fell to the ground. The troops caught in the snow storm were soon covered in ice and unable to move. The snow that reached the ground hissed and melted into puddles that then began to freeze. It continued to fall and now settle on the frozen surface. The steam geysers sputtered as the thick white blanket smothered them. The army marched on.
“Sergeant, keep the men down. Line four,” Zhou shouted.
Zhou took one last look at the encroaching army, by now not far from the walls. Then he flipped the mirror down and folded the thin metal rod, placing both in a pouch attached to his belt. The walls were shaking again but this time with the combined step of the enemy army and the rumbling wheels of the siege towers. Zhou knew what was coming and tucked his head low, wrapping his arms round his knees.
A great heat washed over him and he bit down on his lip to prevent a scream from escaping. His back burned and the bitter smell of burning hair insinuated itself up his nostrils. The outside of the city walls turned to flame. Yellow, orange and red, brighter than the clear summer’s sun the fire raged and there was a great outcry from beyond the walls. The smoke of cremated flesh rose towards the heavens.
The fire continued to burn and then, as before, clouds began to condense from the air. But, as fast as they formed they evaporated, the heat of the flames preventing them from coalescing. A war between the elements was being fought in the air above the walls and fire was winning. Soon the clouds disappeared and the fire still burned.
“We’re holding them, Sir,” the corporal shouted.
“Won’t hold them forever, Corporal,” the sergeant shouted back. “Keep your men ready.”
Zhou, with every ounce of his soul, would have liked to agree with the corporal but he knew the sergeant was right. He felt a change when it came. A cool breeze caressed his skin and pimples rose on his arms. The breeze turned into a wind that started to blow the fire back onto the walls, heating them. Stone began to pop and crack as it expanded under the inferno. The men backed away from the battlements. Now, above the fire, the clouds formed again and a heavy, driving rain began to fall on to the fire and blackened stones. Along the expanse of the wall, stones shattered and Zhou felt the wall shift as it cooled.
“Get them up, Sergeant. Arrows away and let’s see if we can thin their numbers a bit further,” Zhou shouted.
He peered over the battlements. The siege engines were, for the most part, untouched by the four lines of magical defences the city had used. The base of the wall, when he chanced a look down, was deep in ash. Black, grey and streaks of white, unburnt, bone formed a hideous beach over which the tide of Yaart men began to clamber.
Grappling hooks sailed up to hitch fast against the walls. Wubei troops unhooked them or, better still, slashed the ropes attached to them. Still the Yaart threw more and placed ladders against the walls. They began to climb, an army of ants clambering up the stems and branches of rope and wood. Behind them, the siege engines edged closer and closer. Arrows flew from both sides and men died. On the city walls, they fell backward to the ground below. Women rushed out to drag those who survived away to be treated, or to give the mercy of a quick end. On the field, those who fell were trampled by those still to come or crushed under the wheels of the towers. Zhou clenched down hard on the fear in his stomach; the charnel smell of cooked flesh, the unholy mixture of ash and blood, the sweat and taste of bile in his throat.
No one could revel in battle, he thought, where is the glory or honour in this?
Next to him, the corporal staggered back. A red-fletched arrow jutting out from his face, just below the rim of the helmet that was meant to protect him. Zhou caught him as he fell, stumbling under the limp weight. Lowering the corporal to the floor of the battlements, it was clear to Zhou that there was nothing to be done, the man was dead.
“Find peace, Corporal, and pave our way to the Jade kingdom,” Zhou whispered, then rolled and pushed the body off the battlements to the ground below. No point in leaving the dead to litter the place and trip the living, he thought.
“Here they come,” the sergeant’s voice cut through the noise and confusion.
The front of the siege tower, peppered with arrows, none of them aflame as the heavy rain had doused all of the precious fires, fell outwards towards the walls. Behind it, Yaart troops massed and as soon as the platform hit the city walls they poured over. All the while, Wubei arrows and javelins, darts and stones, thudded into them, casting many off the precarious bridge to add their bodies to the evil mixture at the base of the wall.
“Hold them back,” Zhou shouted as he took a fierce grip on his staff, “Hold them back.”
Wubei troops rushed past him and into the battle.
“For your lives, for your families, for Wubei!”
Chapter 18
Haung, crushed by other soldiers on the lower level, felt the siege tower shudder and then settle. He heard a great cry from above him and the thunder of many feet.
“Get ready, men. This is it,” he shouted at his troops, “Up top, cross the bridge and fight for every foot of wall. More will be behind us and they’ll need the room.”
With a throaty yell, the troops ran up the ramps and Haung followed them, light shield on his arm, and Jian sword in his grip. After the twilight inside the tower, the outside world was painfully bright and he squinted. His men were rushing for the bridge, climbing up, onto and across. Arrows from the Wubei wall were finding easy targets amongst them. Bodies fell from the bridge like raindrops.
He joined the throng of soldiers pushing their way across the bridge. Planting his shield in the back of the man in front he pushed, and felt the same happen to him. Rank meant nothing in the melee. The helmet covering his ears muffled all sound but still he was deafened by the cacophony of shouts and screams. Gritting his teeth, he continued to push and step by step the Wubei wall came closer until, quite suddenly, the siege tower bridge ended and he jumped down on to the battlements of the city.
Glancing left and right, he picked a direction, the one with the stairs closest, and started towards them. The footing was difficult, slippery on the stones, and soft on the bodies of the fallen. Ahead of him a Yaart soldier fell, a red crescent of blood spraying from his severed neck. Haung watched the body drop from the battlements to bounce, once, on the hard cobbles below. He turned back just in time to raise his shield and deflect the axe blow aimed at his head. The impact shot a river of pain up his arm and into his neck but, reacting without conscious thought, he stabbed the Jian sword out and into the armpit of the Wubei soldier. The body slid from his sword and he raised the shield once more, taking another step forward, facing another soldier. He ducked under the wild slash of a thick bladed sword and replied with a slicing cut to the soldier’s knees, forcing him to stagger backwards. Haung finished him off, thrusting his sword through the man's stomach and then knocking him over the battlements with his shield.
The next Wubei who faced up to him swung a short staff at his head. Haung lifted his shield again to deflect the blow and was rewarded by a thrusting foot crashing into his chest. He staggered backwards and narrowly avoided a second swing of the staff. Regaining his footing, he pushed forward, shield leading the way and covering the jab he made with the sword. The Wubei soldier parried it away with his staff but, before either man could renew the battle, arrows flicked up at them from the street below. Both men jumped back out of the way. Haung dropped to his knees and covered himself with his shield, feeling the arrows strike and bounce off. When he stood again, the other soldier was gone and the wall swarmed with Yaart soldiers.
He ran for the stairs and stumbled down them as fast as possible onto the street below. All around him, Yaart soldiers were running up the lanes and roads that led into the city proper. It was a riot of blood lust and confusion. The perfect time for it all to go wrong and get killed.
“To me, to me,” Haung shouted waving his sw
ord in the air to attract attention. “Form up, men. Form up.”
He continued to call and gather a cohort of men about him until he figured he had enough for his needs.
“Right, we're going to head up the main road in a group, gather up any other men you can as we go. They’ll have defences rigged up, so we go together and look after each other,” he called to his new troop and, waving his sword again, led them off and up the road.
# # #
By nightfall, the roads were packed with Yaart soldiers, all scurrying about, this way and that. The city was on fire and the smoke of a civilisation destroyed rose to the clouds, ash drifted across the city. A sorrowful, dark fall of obscene snow.
“We control three quarters of the city. There are pockets of resistance in some places but we are confident they will be dealt with by midday tomorrow.” Commander Weyl was speaking to the assembled captains and other senior officers. “Wubei is finished as a power and as a province. Only the duke’s quarter holds out with any true force but Fang-shi Long is sure that he and his apprentices will have broken through by morning. We must be ready for that last push. Let the men have their night but by morning I want them formed up and ready. Re-establish military order and let’s end this war.” The commander paused and surveyed the soldiers before finishing, “Dismissed.”
As the officers filed away the commander beckoned Haung over, “Captain Haung, it is good to see that you survived,” Weyl began. “Your service as an officer ends now. I need the Jiin-Wei back. We have a lot to do tonight before the situation gets worse and the fires take the whole city. There are certain things we need.” The commander turned to the sorcerer who had stood silently next to him throughout the briefing, “Will all be ready on time?”
