Hazelhearth Hires Heroes

by D. H. Willison

  Gnebnik nodded.

  A horn, deep and sombre like a foghorn, sounded in the tree line. Random distant motion shifted to an organized march. The fate of Hazelhearth. The fate of seventeen hundred lives would now be decided.

  The ogres pushed forward in a double ‘V’ formation, a trio equipped with thick wooden tower shields ahead of each trebuchet.

  “Looks like they’re keepin’ the wagon of firebombs for the trebuchets back. Out of range.”

  “A pity,” said Lady Isylnoir. “An ammunition wagon would have made an excellent target.”

  “What’s the range of—”

  Ka-chunk

  A dull metallic clunk sounded as a six-foot-long bolt sailed through the air, slamming into the tower shield of the left-most ogre. Two more from other towers followed in quick succession.

  “About that far,” said Gnebnik.

  “Got to be almost five hundred yards,” said Lee.

  “Aye. But they’ll need to hit exposed flesh ta do anything.”

  Though two of the three ballista towers lay between them and the approaching ogres, their elevated position would allow them to shoot over the ballista towers.

  Lee raised his musket, flipping the rear leaf sight to its maximum range, and took aim at the approaching ogres.

  “Hold yer fire.”

  “I’m a good shot. I can hit them at this range. Might even hit an exposed arm or leg. Even the lead ogres aren’t wearing full armor.”

  “Let ’em focus on the ballista towers,” said Gnebnik.

  Shin put a hand on Lee’s shoulder. “There is a reason the empire prizes ogre warriors. They serve as excellent shock troops. We cannot win by brute force. However, they might expose a flank to us.”

  Ka-chunk

  The three ballistae fired almost simultaneously this time. All three found their mark, slamming into the tower shield of the lead ogre in formation. The ogre staggered under the impact, but stood and continued forward.

  “Not very effective,” said Lee.

  “Nay. And yer musket shot’ll do even less. Those shields may just be wood, but it’s over three inches thick.”

  Wumm

  Wumm, Wumm

  A deep report and puffs of blue-gray smoke emanated from a half dozen places along the ramparts where small teams of musketeers had taken position, the sparse city watch supplemented by numerous volunteers.

  “Shoulda held their fire,” muttered Gnebnik, continuing to scan the battlefield with his spyglass.

  The ogres pushed forward undaunted.

  A third volley from the ballistae, aimed at the pair of ogres operating the lead trebuchet, missed. Yet one bolt chunked into the thirty-foot-tall frame of the trebuchet—a satisfying if undamaging hit.

  The ogres stopped two hundred paces from the wall. Trebuchet operators aimed at the left most ballista tower and began cranking the counterweight. A pair of skirmishers popped from behind the heavily shielded ogre vanguard, loosed massive arrows from their longbows, and popped back into cover.

  “Lady Isylnoir. There’s yer target.”

  She nodded. “Place all firearms and powder in the shielded box to avoid undesired ignition.” She turned to Sam. “Our first shot will be at a low power setting so as not to deplete the power crystals until we are confident we can hit our target.”

  “I thought we weren’t confident we could hit our target at all,” said Sam.

  “Now who is deficient in the art of the ‘pep talk.’ ”

  Sam tugged the first control lever.

  A low hum resonated through the machine, vibrating through the bronze retaining bolts, shaking the tower as power built up.

  Sam pulled a second lever, the hum changing in intensity as she did.

  Lady Isylnoir, gazed fixed on amber gems set in a ring around the tip of the device, spoke, her voice revealing no hint of emotion. “Slowly, increase the power more slowly.”

  Prism-shaped crystals within the six tubular channels at the core began to glow a pale blue.

  Lady Isylnoir took a final glance at the position of the trebuchet, spread her arms apart, and closed her eyes.

  The ogres cheered as their first shot impacted the ballista tower just below the battlement, the two-hundred-pound stone projectile taking a hefty chunk of rock out of the wall.

  The hum of the lightning thrower dropped in pitch, sparks of electric power formed at the tips of the top-most crystal, and a fraction of a second later, a jagged blast of lightning shot from the device.

  The beam broke into a spiderweb of thin blue threads as arcane energy enveloped the nearest trebuchet and two operators.

  The ogres convulsed, collapsing to the ground, smoke spewing from the base of the trebuchet.

  The beam terminated abruptly, Lady Isylnoir falling to her knees.

  “What happened?” said Lee, lunging to steady her. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Are you OK?”

  “It took more concentration than I anticipated to maintain the beam on target. I believe the targeting array is in worse shape than I feared.”

  “You’re using your own body to aim the device? That’s crazy,” said Lee.

  “I’m using my own body to correct the aim of the device,” said Lady Isylnoir. “Which I accomplished quite satisfactorily.” She stood, wobbled, collapsed again, this time Lee catching her before she fell to the floor.

  Gnebnik scrutinized the results of the first shot, spyglass pressed to his eye. “Nice shot. Pity you didn’t have it at full power.”

  “I fear my body would not have tolerated full power,” said Lady Isylnoir.

  Sam took the spyglass from Gnebnik. “Two ogres down, one trebuchet on fire, I’d say it’s pretty good as is.”

  “Just stunned. And ther’s no serious damage ta the trebuchet. Axle grease overheated and caught fire, if we’re lucky the wheel bearings may have fused solid.”

  Ka-chunk

  Two more ballista bolts thudded into the ground next to the trebuchet, and one into the frame. These were fire arrows, spreading small, smoky flames—though not enough to set the device ablaze. Another volley of musket shot peppered the crews of the ogres’ siege engines.

  “Think ya can hit him ’em again?” said Gnebnik.

  Lady Isylnoir pushed Lee’s arm away from her shoulder. “I shall endeavor to do so. As we appear to have found their range, it would be a pity to waste the opportunity. Sam, increase the power by 40 percent.”

  As the stunned ogres heaved themselves to their feet, the second trebuchet fired, the crude stone ball smashing the timber cladding of the ballista tower. A renewed cheer sounded from the ogres, and a pair lumbered back toward the ammunition wagon.

  “They’ve broken through the timber cladding,” said Shin. “I fear their next salvo will be firebombs.”

  Hurry up and fire, thought Lee. He bit back the words, his mind fought against a tense body, a body itching to take some action. He gnashed his teeth.

  Lady Isylnoir’s face contorted in pain.

  The machine hummed, this time louder, cacophonous.

  Sam squeezed the lever tightly as she ramped up the machine’s power.

  Lady Isylnoir winced, anguish painted across her face. Her body trembled as if an unseen beast were shaking her.

  The ogres reloaded the undamaged trebuchet.

  “They’re not aiming at us. Aren’t we the biggest threat?” said Lee.

  “They have the range of the ballista tower, and have broken through the cladding,” said Shin.

  A ballista bolt slammed into the shield of the lead ogre, piercing partway through the thick timbers. Its jagged tip sliced into the ogre’s forearm. But it would be the final shot that ballista crew would take.

  The trebuchet arm whipped around. A cast iron barrel filled with noxious and volatile oils sailed toward the now-exposed ballista tower. It smashed straight through the pathetic splintered remains of the cladding, hit the stone below, and burst into a wave of liquid flame.

  Lee clench
ed his fists around an imaginary musket, a weapon that lay just a few paces away inside a spark-proof box.

  “Fire,” said Lady Isylnoir, voice now cracking.

  Sam flipped the second lever, the hum dropped in pitch, sparks crackled at the tips of the top most crystal, and a blast of lightning shot from the device.

  This shot was stronger, wilder, like a thunderstorm on the midwest prairie. The erratic bolt of arcane power, jumped from trebuchet to operator and back, each metal joint, bolt or armor plate cascading sparks as it did.

  Two ogres fell where they stood, steam pouring from their mouths and nostrils. The timbers of the thirty-foot-high trebuchet burst into flame as if they had been doused in kerosene.

  Lady Isylnoir convulsed, collapsing like a puppet whose strings had been severed with the slash of a rapier. Lee lunged toward her, catching her just before her head would have smashed against the stone tower floor. Sparks from her body shot into his as if he were a lightning rod. He shuddered, nearly collapsing on top of her, managing to stabilize the both of them by slamming a knee into the cold stone tower.

  “Is she OK?” said Sam.

  Lee lifted her to a sitting position, hand cupped behind her head.

  Blood dribbled from her nose to her lip. She coughed, forcing open her eyes. “You have served admirably as a support, but you may release me, Leander. I believe I am able to stand again.”

  Lee lifted her to her feet.

  “Master armorer, did our shot find its mark?”

  “Aye. One trebuchet out of action for good.”

  “Regrettably, I fear the same could be said for the lightning thrower.”

  “How about the operator,” said Lee. “What is her status?”

  “She shall recover.”

  “We’ve got another problem,” barked Gnebnik, pointing to a commotion below.

  A dozen city volunteers sprinted along the parapets.

  “There!” He pointed to a section of wall on their flank. “The scoundrels brought up a siege ladder while we were concentrating on the trebuchets. They’re comin’ over the far wall.”

  Shin put a hand on Lee’s shoulder. “We have to hit them as they come over the top. With that ballista tower destroyed, we’re the only ones that have a clear shot at them.”

  He unlatched the box, removing a rifled musket as long as Sam was tall.

  Lee grabbed his as well, dropped to one knee and cocked it.

  “Looks like you finally get the chance to prove what a crack shot you are,” said Sam.

  “The ogres will not be able to use their shields while ascending,” said Shin. “But we will only have a limited window when they are vulnerable.”

  Lee adjusted the rear sight and drew a deep breath. Though heavier, the weapon handled similarly to the muzzle loader he’d shot on his uncle’s farm in Indiana. Reload would take a good twenty seconds. He and Shin would get one shot each.

  A massive head, bedecked with a metallic skull cap that could serve as a witch’s cauldron poked over the parapets. Only one of the volunteers was within range, a balding middle-aged man with a cuirass and halberd. He tried to topple the siege ladder with his halberd, but the ogre grabbed the weapon, yanking it out of his hands and sending him sprawling. The ogre reached around the parapet with a meaty hand that could tear off the man’s limbs like a human would do to a roasted chicken.

  Lee blinked, trying to clear his head from the massive electric shock he’d gotten trying to break Lady Isylnoir’s fall. This was no game. The fate of that man might hang on his shot. He exhaled slowly and squeezed the trigger. The hammer fell, a soft clink against the tubular sparkstone igniter.

  Wumm

  Despite Lee’s strength and mass, the weapon kicked hard into his shoulder. A cloud of blue-gray smoke erupted from the muzzle. The ogre’s head snapped back, he bellowed in rage, pulled his hand back from the man, who rolled sideways, stood, and leapt back.

  “Nice shot,” said Shin. “I believe you hit him just below his skullcap.”

  Wumm

  The neko fired his own musket, his lanky form bending with the recoil like a supple willow.

  The ogre’s head jerked back a second time, accompanied by a short cry and gurgling. He toppled backwards off the ladder.

  “Ogres have thick skulls,” said Shin. “I recommend you shoot for the eyes.”

  “Did you just… Didn’t you say firearms were uncivilized?”

  “I never said I wasn’t competent in their use.”

  “You shot him through the eye? At three hundred yards? With an iron sight?”

  Shin flashed Lee a little grin. “Any reasonably competent sharp-shooter should be able to—”

  “Oh it is on, cat boy.” Lee pulled a paper cartridge from his pouch, tore the tip off with his teeth, and furiously reloaded the weapon.

  Three more volunteers arrived just as another massive ogre head popped over the parapets.

  A second siege ladder thunked against the parapet, thirty paces further along the city wall.

  Lee cocked and aimed. His nerves steadied, the effects of the electric discharge nearly worn off. He blinked, sighting along the length of the unwieldy barrel. The ogres were massive, even at this range a decent marksman should hit. But hitting a vulnerable spot?

  An ogre with an iron skullcap bedecked with horns popped his head over the second ladder.

  Wumm

  The ogre grabbed his neck, hot blood gushed between his fingers. He disappeared from view, hitting the ground with a dull whump.

  “Hitting them in the neck also appears most effective,” said Lee, doing his best imitation of Shin’s voice.

  An arrow the size of a ballista bolt clattered against the stone tower.

  Gnebnik shifted his gaze. “There! Longbowman taken an interest in our handiwork. I’m guessin’ this lil’ toy won’t take well to arrows.”

  Lady Isylnoir coughed, wiped a dribble of blood from her nose. “You are correct, master armorer. A trebuchet, or even an arrow hit, could short the device and discharge all remaining power randomly.”

  Shin aimed his next shot at an ogre archer who was ducking in and out of cover.

  Wumm

  The ogre dropped his drawn arrow, clenching a bloody fist, and shambled behind the tower shield of another.

  “I have only lightly wounded this one,” said Shin, biting open the next paper cartridge to reload. “But given the consequences of even a single hit, I must concentrate on the archers. Lee, it is up to you to provide cover fire for the defense of the far wall.”

  No pressure, thought Lee. He now had to divide his already slow rate of fire between the two siege ladders.

  A pair of volunteers strained to shove the first ladder off the wall with their halberds: their boots sliding against the stone ramparts, gloved hands straining to hold the shafts of their weapons. Two more, these mere children, jumped in behind them to push. An ogre near the top of the ladder stretched an arm clad in hide armor to swipe away one of the halberds.

  Must. Not. Miss.

  Wumm

  The ogre clutched his head.

  The ladder tipped past vertical, careening downward, slamming two ogres on their backs.

  Reload, quick, thought Lee.

  Wumm

  “I am afraid with the way the archers are moving, I cannot reliably hit vulnerable spots,” said Shin.

  The ogre team manning the second, undamaged trebuchet shifted it to target another of the ballista towers.

  Ka-chunk

  Ka-chunk

  One of the two six-foot-long bolts finally found their mark, piercing an unprotected calf all the way to the bone. The ogre bellowed in rage and was dragged out of range and bandaged by two others.

  “That’s at least six we’ve wounded or killed,” said Sam. “And they’re still coming! What do we have to do to prove we’re a tough target?”

  “Ogre shock troops fighting for the empire would frequently continue fighting after suffering 50 percent losses,” said Lad
y Isylnoir, coughing a few droplets of blood into her palm as she forced out the words. “I had hoped that deserters would be less stalwart.”

  Wumm

  Lee’s shot went wide of its mark, grazing the ogre’s cheek. It pushed its chest over the parapet, drawing a brutal studded club from a back scabbard.

  Idiot, thought Lee, furiously reloading his weapon. The beast just exposed its underarm. If I’d only held my fire.

  Wumm

  One of the volunteers unloaded a blunderbuss load of shrapnel into the ogre’s face at point blank range. The ogre bellowed, swinging its club in a wild rage.

  A stone missile from the functioning trebuchet slammed into the timber cladding of ballista tower two, cracking and splintering the bracing, though not breaking through.

  The ogre on the parapets, half-blind from the blunderbuss hit, half climbed, half rolled over the edge to clear the ladder for the next ogre.

  Lee paused his reload for the briefest moment, rolling the bullet between his thumb and index finger. The lead projectile was cold and heavy in his hand. He dropped it into the barrel and pulled out the ramrod to tamp it in place. Sixty-eight caliber slug with a chill-hardened, armor-piercing tip, he thought. This thing’ll punch through a quarter-inch iron plate at three hundred yards. And the ogres shrug it off like a BB gun hit.

  Another ogre popped a helmeted head over the parapet.

  “Shin, if you’re reloaded, I need you,” said Lee. “We’re about to have two over the walls.”

  “I’ve got you,” said Shin, spinning to take the shot.

  Wumm

  Shin’s shot pierced the eye socket of the would-be invader, felling him like harvest grain.

  “An archer popped out from the left side of the shields last time,” said Shin. “He’ll come from the right next. Take the shot.”

  Lee shoved the ramrod back, clicked the rear sight to its highest setting. “Range about five hundred?”