“Look,” Cat said, pointing to the wall. “Archers.”
That was to be expected as well. “We knew this would be difficult,” Jarak said.
Uln grunted. “My archers have longer range. Wait and see.”
Jarak looked at all his companions, making eye contact with each and every one. Brant was there, standing to his right. Cat was on his left and beside her stood Orin, Ardra, and Aldgar. Tanit, the last of the Dygon Guards stood next to Uln. Jarak lifted his sword before him. “We will win,” he said firmly. “I am honored to fight next to you all, and to know you as friends.” Then he fixed Uln with his gaze. “Ready your archers.”
Chapter 11
Tearial Elwyn led the charge along with Tolvanus. Her own army had one thousand cavalry and with them were the remnants of the Kaelian cavalry that had recently joined them. Behind them, and running on foot, were the thousand Varga that had stayed behind to reinforce the main charge. And behind them, jogging at a steady pace in four rows deep, were nine thousand Marastians, supported by nearly four thousand Dy’ainians.
The cavalry had waited patiently at the top of the hill, the darkness of night as thick as oil. They had prepared the catapults to launch the flaming spheres and were now waiting for the signal. The infantry was fanned out behind them, hidden behind the rise of the hill upon which they camped. They did not have enough lances for all the cavalry, so they had cut long poles from the stout wood of the vylin tree, then slowly hardened the sharpened points over hot coals. They would not be nearly as effective as a steel tipped lance, but the impact alone would do serious damage to the enemy line. Behind Tearial rode the banner bearers, one carrying Elwyn’s sigil and the other carrying Jarak’s new banner. Behind them, scattered amongst the infantry, were nearly a hundred of his new banners, fluttering on long poles in the gentle breeze blowing in off the Bitlis Sea. They were ready. They just needed the signal.
When the signal had come, the large spheres of tightly bound branches were lit and launched into the air. While staying at Bygon they had built hundreds of them. They had worked well, allowing them to see the Saricon army hastily forming their lines. The enemy was not fully prepared, thinking the attack would come at first light. After all, who would attack in the middle of a pitch-black night? They had caught them off guard, which was exactly the point.
Tearial was at the head of the cavalry charge when they slammed into the hastily formed Saricon wall. The Saricon warriors flung their javelins with characteristic accuracy, dropping nearly two hundred horses and their riders. But their long spears and makeshift lances caused devastating damage by scattering the enemy and breaching their hastily built line…which was exactly their goal. Despite their initial losses the cavalry maintained their momentum; reinforced by a thousand Varga who cut down any Saricons who survived the initial charge. The Varga were unstoppable, even to the mighty Saricon warriors. Tearial’s small group performed like the edge of a splitting axe, cutting through the formation and allowing the Varga and infantry to swarm in and further divide the enemy. Lord Rathiam and King Elwyn then directed the infantry to turn into their midst, pushing the Saricons far enough apart to allow the attackers to push through the lines and reach the gate.
Tearial’s spear took a Saricon in the chest just as his javelin flew by her, so close she could feel the wind from its trajectory across her cheek. Drawing her sword, a small buckler on her left arm, she charged forward on her horse, followed by more cavalry and the masses of giant Varga behind her. Leaning over in her saddle she let out a piercing battle cry and tore into the enemy with a vengeance, her long sword furiously slicing left and right.
Their primary goal was to push through the lines and reach the gate. The Varga behind her pulled a large cart filled with the tynells, and once they got within range of the gate the Saricons would have their own weapons used against them. But the archers on the wall would be a problem, which was why she fervently hoped Jarak and his companions would be successful in their task.
***
A hundred Varga archers stepped forward in unison and drew their great bows back. The distance to the wall was the maximum range for a normal long bow, but for the Varga bows it proved to be no great challenge. They fired, the massive bows twanging loudly as their projectiles, more like spears than arrows, quickly covered the distance. Some struck the stone wall in a shower of sparks while others hit their targets, the impacts of the strikes hurling the enemy backwards with such force that they flew five paces through the air before slamming into the stone battlements on the far side of the wall. Some were even knocked off the wall to sink to their deaths in the river that flowed along the north wall before emptying into the harbor. Uln kept shouting commands as they continued to fire their deadly barrage of arrows.
“The gate is opening!” Brant yelled. Sure enough the gate was slowly rising just as several hundred Saricons advanced before them, shields held high. As the Saricons came within range, the Varga archers directed their attack on them, striking their shields with enough force to punch through the steel, some even ripping into their arms. The men screamed as they tried to drop the shields that were now pinned to their flesh. But still they kept coming, and when they were close enough, the warriors behind the shield wall hurled their deadly javelins.
Nearly thirty Varga fell as the Saricon spears found their flesh. And when the gate was fully open even more Saricons flooded in from the outside, reinforcing their comrades. Close to three hundred managed to flood through the gate before it closed again.
“We need to control that gatehouse!” Jarak shouted as he dodged a spear. His men and the Varga around him were falling under the onslaught of the Saricons. But the Varga archers continued to deliver heavy damage to the advancing enemy as well.
Serix, who was standing next to Jarak shouted, “We need to attack using spells! Then we can charge the line! We have to disable the effectiveness of those spears!”
More of their men were struck down by the Saricon javelins, and Endler nearly fell as well as one struck him in the shoulder. Luckily the angle was bad and it deflected off his steel pauldron. Nonetheless, the impact jarred him to his bones and he cried out in pain.
“You okay?” Jarak asked anxiously.
“Yes, I think so,” he said, gritting his teeth.
Jarak then looked up at the Saricon line that was slowly pushing forward across the open courtyard. Suddenly he saw the line part to make room for four huge torgs and their Shadow Riders, painted in streaks of blue. A rain of Varga arrows struck the line, dropping forty enemy warriors. But for every Saricon who fell, another took his place.
“Prepare to attack!” Jarak shouted above the din of battle.
Uln followed suit, shouting commands at his own men. Another four hundred Varga then surged forward, brandishing huge axes and swords as the archers move to the rear. They would continue to fire their arrows at the enemy on the wall while the fighting commenced in the courtyard.
“Use lightening,” Serix suggested. “They are all wearing armor.” Jarak knew that they could create lightning bolts that would arc across their armor, from one warrior to the next, causing a maximum amount of damage. He nodded as he began his spell.
Pulling energy from Endler, he focused on coalescing the power in his left hand as he held his sword in his right. Within moments intense blue energy crackled around his hand and up his arm. Jarak looked up and saw that Serix was ready. “Charge!” he yelled.
Together they ran forward to meet the Saricons head on, followed by a line of hulking Varga. Jarak and his comrades were in the center along with Uln. Looming before them were the four torg riders. An arrow shot from one of the Varga behind him took one of the riders in the chest, catapulting her from the saddle. As she died, the enraged, and now uncontrollable beast, tore into whoever was nearest. Luckily for them it was the Saricons.
Jarak’s heart pounded with adrenaline as they drew near the enemy. When he was within range he flung his left hand out, shooting a bolt of
lightning forward, the blue crackling energy striking another torg in the chest, arcs of energy encircling its body and traveling to its rider. The torg howled and the Shadow Rider convulsed, falling from her saddle.
Serix, recognizing the torgs as more dangerous, hurled his bolt at another beast, causing the third rider to fall to the ground. Seconds later, the two armies came together, screaming their battle cries, as they frantically fought to make sure that the blood they spilled was not their own. The one remaining torg that still had a rider targeted Uln, leaping at him with its huge claws splayed open ready to rip him to shreds. But Uln quickly leapt to the side, simultaneously swinging his massive sword down and across its flank, cutting into the creature before it landed, but not causing any apparent damage. A torg’s hide is thick and as tough as armor, and despite Uln’s immense strength, the blade barely managed to cut through it.
Both rider and beast landed amongst the Varga line, causing chaos as their swords and axes swung at the creature as it dodged, raking its claws into whatever flesh it could find. The female Saricon rider also lashed out with her sword as the great beast spun and pivoted with the speed and agility that was astonishing for something so large.
Meanwhile, Uln had found himself in the midst of the Saricon warriors, immediately striking down four with his great long sword. As he dispatched the fourth Saricon, another enemy sword suddenly sliced across his back, barely cutting through his thick skin as a thin line of blood appeared. But soon more Varga warriors appeared at his side, viciously attacking and dispatching the Saricon foe as they advanced.
Orin and Ardra ran at the enemy, carrying their short bows in one hand and using their short swords in the other as they cut their way through the Saricon horde. Orin stayed close to his sister, drawing the energy from her that she pulled from the enemy around them. They moved incredibly fast, avoiding enemy weapons as their swords flicked in like striking snakes, stabbing and slicing into the enemy while Tanit and Brant covered their flanks.
Brant used both hands to swing his sword, spinning it skillfully to parry strikes and deliver deadly attacks of his own. His enhanced speed allowed him to hold his position in the line, protecting Orin’s flank as well as the Vargas to his right. Having refreshed his aura with new energy, he was able to maintain his speed and strength.
Tanit was not proving to be as successful. The amount of energy he had used on the wall had been too much and he found himself lagging behind, as if his arms and legs were carrying lead weights. His aura was nearly depleted, and he knew that he would pay the price if he were not able to rest soon.
The battle in the courtyard had turned into a chaotic melee. The fighting was most intense where to the two lines had come together, but both lines had broken in a few places allowing for both the Saricons and the Varga to bust through, creating pockets of fighting on both sides of the lines.
All but one of the crazed torgs had finally been taken down, but not before the beasts had managed to kill a few dozen Saricons and Vargas alike. The one rider that still remained was directing her beast behind the Varga line, leaping from one giant warrior to another, killing and injuring at least five before the rider was finally dispatched by a Varga arrow to the chest. She fell dead onto the pavers, and several minutes later the dangerous torg was also cut down by a furious barrage of axes and swords coming at it from all angles.
Aldgar was fighting next to Ardra and Orin, his Kul-brite blade slicing through armor and flesh. Kicking out, he shoved a Saricon off his blade with his foot, just as another attacked Ardra’s flank. He wasn't able to remove his sword fast enough to block the blade. The only thing he could do was scream a warning as the sword descended.
Ardra had just sliced her blade across the stomach of an enemy when she heard Aldgar’s scream and glanced to her left, her eyes widening as she saw the blade descend. She frantically tried to defensively maneuver her body and use her own sword to block the attack. But despite her skill and speed, the tip of the Saricon sword struck her in the shoulder, opening up a deep gash. Flinching from the pain, she spun away as Aldgar, who had finally removed his sword from the dead Saricon, slammed his blade down on the attacker’s arm, cutting it in half. Several sword swings later and the warrior lay dead.
Orin heard his sister scream and glanced back to see her holding her shoulder, blood pouring from between her fingertips, her face ashen. Just as he glanced at her a Saricon spear struck him in the upper shoulder, knocking him backwards and to the ground.
Aldgar and Brant saw what had happened and leaped closer together, attempting to close the gap created by the injured Gyths. Fortunately another Varga saw the opening in the line and joined them, sealing the wall and keeping the enemy away from the two wounded Gyths.
Ardra ran to Orin who was on his back, looking up, his eyes wide in shock and pain. The spear had pierced his shoulder, lodging into the bone. He took deep breaths to calm himself and control the pain. His sister kneeled down next to him, grabbed the spear with both hands, and pulled it quickly from his shoulder as he let out a cry of pain. She then took the corner of his cloak and pressed it to the wound, while her own blood dripped from her shoulder onto his leather cuirass. She glanced back towards the line and saw that they were faltering, the Saricon horde pushing into them relentlessly. If it were not for Brant’s speed and skill, they would have already broken through and killed them.
“We are a mess, brother,” she said tearfully.
Orin took several rapid deep breaths, then spoke through clenched teeth. “I will be fine,” he whispered.
The wound was bleeding profusely and Ardra was not so sure. She turned her tear streaked face to look back one more time, making sure their line was holding. It was, for now anyway.
***
Tongra Taruk was running from one side of the wall to the other, trying to see what was happening on both sides. He was basically fighting a two front battle, something no commander wanted to do if one could help it. From what he could see, the enemy cavalry and the Varga giants had broken through their line and were now pushing through the road to get to the bridge. He was sure that, once there, they would try to breach the gate. But it was the courtyard battle that demanded his immediate attention. His warriors thus far had been successful at keeping the enemy away from the gatehouse and the mechanism to open it. That was obviously their goal and he could not let that happen. He still had fifty men on the wall; the rest had fallen under the deadly assault of the Varga bowmen. Several arrows had nearly taken him as well, their surprising range nearly catching him off guard.
He had ten of his remaining personal guard with him on the wall and he turned to them now. “We are going below,” he growled, no longer willing to stay out of the fight. He had to help keep the enemy away from the gate. “Follow me.”
Ten Saricons, all strong in the Fury, drew their blades without a word and followed their Tongra to the stairs. They too were tired of watching.
***
Tearial pulled on her reins, slowing her horse to a stop as she looked back. They had cut a path though the Saricon lines and from what she could see her husband’s infantry had successfully pushed them further away, and the two armies, now split and engaged in two separate battles, were fighting furiously across the snow covered plains before the city. Once on the main road, they had faced resistance of course. Her best estimate was there were only a few hundred cavalry remaining, but the Varga had done their job and together they had worked their way down the road, killing any Saricons in their path. They had faced heavy casualties from the Saricon javelins, which had taken out hundreds of the riders after the initial charge. Behind her she could see the two Varga pulling the wooden cart filled with the tynells. Fifty Varga had formed a perimeter around the cart to protect the projectiles, which lay in a soft bed of grass.
Tolvanus pulled up next to her, his warhorse prancing nervously and his long cavalry sword crimson with enemy blood. “They have formed a line,” he said, panting from the exertion of battle
. Several other nobles who were riding with them also stopped to look up at the city’s wall. One was an Aura Mage and he was paired with a Channeler, while the third was a Merger like Tolvanus. Tearial followed his gaze towards the main gate and sure enough he was right. By now the sun’s light was bright enough that they could easily make out the men and the gate. But they had expected the gate to be heavily guarded. Hundreds of Saricons had fled from the cavalry and had run down the main road in order to form a protective wall just before the bridge that spanned the river. “Looks to be several hundred,” Tolvanus added.
Tearial smiled. “We will have to force our way through to get close enough to the gate.”
“What about the archers?”
She glanced up to the wall. “I don’t see as many. We will have to take the risk.” Then she looked at the Aura Mage. “Take as many archers out as you can.”
The man nodded.
“Ready?” She said to them, grinning in anticipation.
Tolvanus nodded, as did the others, and Tearial nudged her horse’s flanks. They took off with the remaining cavalry and nearly five hundred Varga warriors running behind them.
***
The Saricon line parted for their Tongra. As he neared the front with his men he released his Fury, as did the others. He burst from the line with his axe leading the way, slashing into the Varga warriors with an intensity of speed and fury they had not yet witnessed. His men fanned out around him, their own Fury launching them forward as they swung their axes and swords in deadly arcs. They were now fighting with renewed vigor, killing the enemy in increasing numbers as their battle cries infused the rest of his men with renewed energy. Within moments the Saricon line had begun to relentlessly push the enemy back.
Brant could feel the push as his comrades began to fall back. The Saricons seemed to be hammering them with a new sense of purpose. Something was giving them hope, and glancing down the line he saw what it was. In the dim light of dusk he could easily make out the glowing eyes of a handful of Saricon leaders cutting into their line with such incredible speed and power that even the mighty Varga were falling back before it.
Banner Lord Page 34
