~
“Killed ’em! Killed ’em both, he did!” cried Hogarth, the Gate Captain, a fierce grin splitting his face as he pulled Tuck from Wildwind’s back and to the ground. But Tuck could not stand, and fell forward to his knees, his arms clutched across his stomach, face down as he gasped for air, and he found he was weeping. Aurion leapt down beside him.
“He’s got the wind knocked out of him,” said Aurion. “Stand back.” And the King held the Warrow by the shoulders as the Wee One gasped and wept, while the Kingsmen upon the wall roared a mighty cheer.
At last Tuck got control of his breathing, and soon the weeping stopped, too. And the King said in a low voice that only the Waerling could hear, “Sir Tuck, you must mount up the wall so that all may see you. Heroes are needed in these dark times to rallye the spirits of all of us.”
“But, Sire, I am no hero,” Tuck said.
The King looked at the Warrow in astonishment. “No hero, you say? Fie! Whether or not you feel like a hero, you are one, and we need you. So come, mount up to the parapet with me.”
And so, up the ramp and to the battlements above the north gate went the King and Warrow, and all the Men shouted great praise. And Tuck looked forth upon the field: of the third emissary there was no sight, but out upon the snow, near the carcass of the Hèlsteed, lay a skull-crushed Rûck and a shaft-pierced Ghûl, slain by Tuck’s own hand. Yet Tuck did not feel the pride that the shouting Men took in him; instead a sickening horror filled his being; for although it is one thing to kill a snarling Vulg with arrow as he had done at Spindle Ford, it is quite another thing to slay beings that walk about upon two legs and wear clothes and speak a language; too, it had been so utterly violent: smashing, crushing, jarring, stabbing. The sight of his victims brought only a bitter nausea upon him.
But another sight there upon the field overrode his horror and filled him with dread: Oh, please let it not be an omen, he thought, as there on the field where the Rûck had planted it stood the Sun-Death sigil of Modru, and below it lying crumpled in the snow was the broken scarlet-and-gold standard of Aurion.
~
Tuckerby shook his head to dispel the foreboding thoughts, and realized that he was being spoken to:
“Lor! What a close chase,” said Corby Platt, returning Tuck’s bow and quiver to the Warrow hero. Corby was a young buccan formerly of Tuck’s squad, but now assigned to the north gate. And he gestured at the slain enemy. “That’s two for the Bosky, Tuck, and one o’ them was a Ghûl!”
“Wood through the heart,” said Hogarth, “that’s what slew the Ghol: impalement. And it’s a good thing, too, for King Aurion had not the time to dismember it, for the other Ghola were riding hard upon you. Hoy! but it was a fine bit of lancery, Sir Tuck.”
“It wasn’t as if I thought to do it—to spear the Ghûl with wood, that is,” said Tuck. “It’s just that he was there and I had the shaft in my hand, and, well, it just happened.”
“Yet had you not acted, then it is we who would be crow bait, and not the other way around,” said Aurion, placing a hand upon the shoulder of the Waerling.”You are a fine knight, Small One.”
“But I was de-ponied!” exclaimed Tuck. “No knight am I.”
“Ar, well,” said Hogarth, “you just need to learn how to lean into your stirrups and clamp your thighs to your mount.”
“No thank you! From now on I’ll just stick to what I know.” Tuck flourished his bow, and the Men upon the wall shouted another great cheer for the wee warrior. But this hail was cut short by the enemy: Boom! Boom! Doom! Doom! The great Rûcken drum took up a pounding beat, and harsh horns blatted.
“Sire, they move the trebuchets forward,” called Hogarth.
“They begin the attack,” said Aurion. “Signal our own catapults to prepare.”
Rahn! Hogarth blew upon his oxen horn, and a signal flag was raised.
Out upon the field, Tuck could see the great Ogrus wheel forth one of the catapults. This one slowly approached the north gate. Word came from the east and west that the other two trebuchets were drawing toward the first wall, too. Behind came more Ogrus, towing waggons. As the Trolls hauled the great engine into position, a sense of dread came upon Tuck, for he knew by Vidron’s words earlier, that these were terrible weapons.
“Lor, look where they stop,” breathed Hogarth.
“What is it?” cried Tuck, alarmed but not knowing why.
“Our mangonels have not that range,” answered Hogarth, pointing up the mont toward the King’s own catapults between the first and second walls. “We cannot return their fire, for we cannot reach them.” Doom! Boom! Doom! Doom! The Rûcken drum pounded on.
Through the pulsing drum beats, a distant clatter of gears sounded, and the throwing arm of the catapult was hauled down and loaded with a black sphere from one of the waggons. A Rûck with a torch set fire to the missile and at a cry from a Hlôk, Thuk! Whoosh! the arm flew up, hurling a flaring pitch-and-sulphur ball sputtering through the sky and over the wall to smash and explode upon one of the buildings. Fire splashed outward and smoke rose up into the air. Warriors rushed to quench the blaze, but another burning ball burst nearby, and flames raged. Again and again the blazing missiles burst upon the city, crashing down upon the tile roofs and wooden walls, and flaming liquid splashed and dripped. Soldiers rushed thither and yon, trying to extinguish the fires, to beat out the flames. But the burning sulphur and pitch clung tenaciously to the blazing wood and ran in rivers of fire beyond reach, spreading in swift strokes. And where quenched, flames would burst forth anew as fire ran back to spring up again. Missile after missile crashed down to add to the fires, and raging flames grew and fed upon the shops and houses lining the streets and swept across the town. Away to the south and west rose the smoke of other fires as the great trebuchet there flung its hideous cargo of fury upon that part of Challerain Keep. And the third catapult of the enemy hurled fire upon the eastern flank of the city. Thwok! Thock! The fuming balls hurled forth, sailing down to blast apart. Thock! Thack! time and again the enemy catapults sounded, hurtling a fiery rain upon the open Keep. All around the mont the flames raged wildly, springing from building to building and street to street, the fires from the north racing toward those raging forth from east and west. Black smoke billowed up and sent warriors reeling and coughing, and the heat choked off breath, for the very air seared the lungs, and many collapsed. The fallen were borne forth from the inferno by their exhausted comrades, yet others perished, trapped in the fire storm.
Hours passed, and still the siege engines of Modru hurled sputtering Death, the thwok! of the great arms now unheard in the roar of the flames. And the answering shots of the King’s mangonels fell short, and the Men on the wall wept and raged in frustration, for the city burned and they could do nought to save it. Unchecked, the missiles crashed, and red and orange columns of roaring flames cast writhing shadows out into the Dimmendark, and the works of centuries of Man’s existence upon Mont Challerain fell victim to the ravening fire. And Tuck recalled Vidron’s words; and now the Warrow knew that these indeed were terrible machines, for the ancient city of Challerain Keep was being razed to the ground.
~
And thus the city burned, the great engines casting holocaust nearly unto the fourth wall. When it became apparent to the King that nought could be done to quench the raging flames, he ordered that the fires be let to run their course unchecked, for the warriors must needs save themselves for the coming battle. And so for two ’Darkdays they had watched the burning of much they held to be precious, and wept to see such destruction. The Horde beyond the walls jeered in revelment, and brandished their weapons, but made no move to assault the battlements, for they knew that the fires sapped at the strength and spirit of the Kingsmen, and they waited for the moment when the defenders’ will would be at its lowest ebb. And all through the burning and finally unto the time that black char and ashes and thin tendrils of acrid smoke were all that remained where once stood a proud city, the great drum
knelled: Doom!
~
The sharp ring of swift steps upon polished stone jolted Tuck awake. A lantern-bearing warrior of the Kingsguard strode hard past the Warrow’s couch and into the King’s chamber. Muzzy with sleep, Tuck sat up and rubbed his eyes, wanting nothing more than to fall again into exhausted slumber. But what he heard next jarred him full awake: “Sire,” the warrior’s voice was grim, “they stir as if to attack!”
Quickly Tuck donned the underpadding and then the silveron armor, and slipped into his boots and down overclothing. As he flung on his Elven cloak and took up his bow and quiver, the King strode out, girting his sword and helming himself.
“Come!” commanded Aurion, and paced away, following the warrior with the lanthorn, while Tuck ran behind, clapping his simple steel cap upon his own head.
In the stables, as Tuck saddled his pony, Danner and Patrel came with Vidron and Gildor, but there was not time to say other than, “Good fortune!” and then the King and Tuck mounted and hurriedly clattered out and across the courtyard.
Down through the charred ruins they rode, and by the twisting route they took, Tuck’s grey was as quick as Aurion’s Wildwind. Unto the north gate of the first wall the King and Warrow came, riding amid soldiery running toward the bulwark. Whence came these warriors, where quartered, Tuck did not know, for most of the buildings had burned. Yet, here they were, streaming to the defense of the first wall, as Captains among them cried out orders. Yet above the shouts Tuck heard the blare of Rûcken horn and the beat of enemy drum: Doom! Doom! The advance had begun.
Mounting up to the battlement, the King looked grimly out upon the swarming Horde, and Tuck caught his breath to see them seething forward: Slowly they came, a black tide surging through the pallid Shadowlight and over the land. In the fore the great Troll-drawn siege tower rumbled toward the wall, the giant wheels creaking, the Ogrus beneath an iron-clad fire shield. To the rear came the Ghûls, riding to and fro behind the files of the Swarm. In boiling ranks came the Rûcks and Hlôks, and to Tuck’s unpracticed eye they looked to be without number, stretching beyond his view in a great arc that encircled the mont entire. But Tuck’s sight was drawn directly ahead where aimed square at the north gate came the clenched iron fist of the great ram Whelm.
With trembling hands, Tuck fumbled among his arrows, ashamed that others might see his fright; yet if the High King or anyone else noticed aught, they did not speak of it.
“What lies beyond my vision?” asked Aurion, turning to Tuck.
The Warrow had to take a deep breath and let it out before he could speak. “Nothing different, Sire, to the limit of my sight.” And they turned to watch the advance.
Occasional lone arrows were loosed from the wall, gauging the Horde’s range. At last a signal was given, and the mangonels of Challerain flung flaming missiles at the oncoming Swarm; and they burst upon the ground before the advance, and great gouts of fire splattered and ran among the teeming Horde. Rûcks quailed back, but the snarling Hlôks amid them lashed with whips and drove them forward again.
Onward creaked the tower and great ram, now the targets of the King’s catapults, yet the fire splashed without effect upon the brass and iron cladding. And forward they lumbered.
With Tuck in his wake, Aurion Redeye strode up and down the battlement, saying words of encouragement to the defenders. As to the Warrows, scattered as they were among all of the King’s companies, only a few were here along this part of the first wall. Yet to these Tuck said a few words of his own, wondering if they were as frightened as he, receiving grim smiles in return. If Danner were here, he’d be yelling insults at the Rûcks, thought Tuck, and Patrel would know exactly what to tell the buccoes. But those two Warrows had duties elsewhere, with Vidron and Gildor, repelling the attack east and west; hence Tuck alone was left with the task of bucking up the courage of the young buccen near the north gate.
Doom! Doom! Doom! Doom! Now the Horde was too close to the wall for the King’s catapults to strike at them. Like maggots, the Swarm seethed and boiled onward, and scaling ladders were borne among them. Forward trundled the mighty ram, forward creaked the great tower. Now the massive Ogrus could be seen in all their awesome power, and Tuck caught his breath to look at them, for they were huge.
The King gave another signal and hissing flights of arrows were loosed, streaking down upon the enemy, and Rûcks threw up shields to ward against the deadly shafts. Yet many found their marks, and Rûcks fell screaming, but the arrows pierced not the stone hides of the mighty Ogrus, and the tower and ram came on.
Now Rûcken horns blatted, and the Horde cried out with an endless wordless yell, and they broke for the wall, and their own black-shafted arrows hissed among the defenders, and Men fell, pierced through. At last the howling running Swarm reached the first wall, and scaling ladders were flung up and mounted, while rope-bearing grapnels chanked upon the crenels and Rûcks swarmed up. Shouting Men sprang forward to dislodge the ladders and hooks, braving arrows to cast them down. The great tower creaked forward, now almost to the wall, and the ram came unto the north gate. Boom! Boom! The iron fist was driven upon the portal, and the iron gates shuddered under its mighty blows. Burning oil was loosed through the machicolations above to splash down upon the Ogrus, but the fire-shield fended the flaming liquid, splashing it aside. Calthrops, too, rained through the slots, yet Rûcks with besoms swept the dire spikes aside and Trolls stepped not upon them.
At last Tuck stood upon the weapons shelf, and through a crenel he took deadly aim, loosing bolt after bolt upon the enemy, driving the shafts down upon Rûcken archers, and he did not miss. ‘The arrow as strays might well’er been throwed away’: Old Barlo’s words ran through Tuck’s mind. And as he strung arrow and took aim and loosed each fatal quarrel, Tuck realized that he was deadly calm, his fright gone now that the waiting was over.
Finally the great tower came unto the wall and a ramp thudded down upon the merlons. With hoarse shouts and grating snarls, swart Rûcks and Hlôks rushed upon it toward the battlements, swinging cudgels and scimitars, War-hammers and curved sickles. And they were met by shouting Men with long pikes and gleaming swords, pole axes and brutal maces. Battle cries and oaths and death screams rent the air. Rûcks were slain and Hlôks, and Kingsmen, too, hurtling from the ramp and falling down the face of the bulwark. Here Aurion Redeye battled, his sword wreaking havoc among the enemy, raging fiercely, and no enemy had as yet set foot upon the stone of the wall.
Boom! Boom! whelmed ram upon gate, and Tuck’s arrows hissed true. Suddenly the Warrow’s eye was caught by a flicker of movement in the Dimmendark, and Tuck looked up to see a force of horsemen, twenty strong, riding at full gallop toward the wall. How they had gotten this close without Tuck seeing them, he did not know. Yet here they were and here they charged, and the horses were swift. Those in front raced after one upon a jet-black steed and they bore clay pots tied with ropes, while in the rear sped others, carrying flaming torches. Toward the siege tower they streaked, and the enemy knew not they came until they thundered past, whirling the vessels overhead. Unto the tower they clove and the pots were hurled through the open back to smash within the siege frame, and a clinging dark liquid splashed upon the timbers and ran down the wooden walls. The riders that raced behind flung their burning brands after, and a great blaze whooshed up within the frame. Wildfire flared and Tuck shouted with fierce joy, “Hai warriors!” while Rûcks and Hlôks within screamed in the agony of a fiery death and some leapt forth flaming and ran amok like living burning torches.
The Men on horses wheeled back through the ranks of the enemy, but many fell to the black-shafted Rûck barbs. Tuck rained bolt after bolt upon the foe, yet still the Rûcks slew the horsemen, and Tuck wept to see them fall. Yet ten or so broke free and raced toward the darkness, pursued by Ghûls upon Hèlsteeds. Then Tuck could no longer watch, for more scaling ladders thudded up against the wall, and enemy archers slew Men, and the great ram whelmed: Boom! Boom!
And Tuck drew
, aimed, and released again and again while Men struggled and cursed and used long poles to push away the ladders and yet others hurled rocks and rained calthrops and fire and arrows down upon the Horde. And all the while the flames of the burning siege tower roared up into the darkling sky.
Yet the numbers of the Horde were many while those of the defenders were few, and here and there pockets of Rûcks and Hlôks o’ertopped the wall and fierce battles raged. And driven by the mighty Trolls, the great ram battered the gate: Boom! Boom! First one hinge shattered and then another gave way under the juddering iron fist of Whelm. The outer gates began to buckle and sag, and word came from elsewhere that the foe was pouring over the rampart.
“Withdraw!” commanded the King, and the order echoed up and down the line. Tuck followed Aurion down the ramp where they mounted and rode among the defenders streaming back to the second wall. And the battle plan of Challerain Keep moved toward the next stage.
As they went, Tuck looked back to see jeering Rûcks and Hlôks clamber upon the stone bulwark, and the gates at last shattered under the mighty impact of Whelm. And pallid Ghûls upon Hèlsteeds rode through before the dark tide of the Horde to claim this first battle. And the Sun-Death standard of Modru was raised upon the wall above the sundered north gate.
~
“Upon a black steed, you say?” The King stood on the second wall and watched as the siege tower continued to flame, a fierce grin upon his face.
The Iron Tower Omnibus Page 19
