by Stuart Daly
Morgan lashed out with a kick at the Roon’s head, but the giant swatted the foot away with the haft of his axe, pushed the Master aside and heaved himself onto the battlements. Morgan managed to maintain his balance and leapt back down amidst the defenders. A soldier lunged at the giant with a spear, but the Roon twisted to the side, avoiding the attack. The tattooed warrior grabbed hold of the weapon and gave a tremendous tug, sending the soldier sailing through a crenellation with a gargled scream. Hoisting his axe above his head, the Roon gave an almighty roar, and came at Morgan.
The Master met the descending axe with his sword, but the power of the blow brought him to his knees. Before he could prepare his defences, the giant flicked the butt of his axe and delivered a glancing blow to the side of Morgan’s helmet, knocking the Master flat on his back. The Roon seized the advantage, swinging his axe downwards in a savage arc.
His heart hammering in his chest, Caspan lunged forward with his sword, deflecting the giant’s axe, which smashed into the flagstone just a few inches from Morgan’s head. With a frustrated howl, the giant shoulder-barged into Lachlan, who had also rushed to the Master’s assistance. Then, with his crazed eyes set on Caspan, the Roon lumbered towards him, his axe held high.
Caspan raised his sword, ready to block the attack, which he feared would shatter his sword and cut him in two. The giant’s axe descended with a whoosh of air. Caspan gritted his teeth and tensed for the impact.
There was a blur of movement from behind the Roon. With the axe slipping from his fingers, the giant staggered forward and collapsed on the ground to reveal a triumphant Morgan staring down at his vanquished foe.
Caspan raised a hand in a silent thank you, then surveyed the battle scene to find where he could help out next. By now, many Roon had climbed up into the battlements and there was combat all around him. The soldiers were fighting valiantly, doing their utmost to prevent the giants from gaining a foothold on the wall, but the Roon were relentless.
Standing side by side with their Master, Caspan and Lachlan cut and thrust at any giant that approached them. Lachlan held his large sword in a two-handed grip, delivering wide swipes that hit up to three enemies at a time. Reinforcements arrived from other sections of the wall, where they had managed to block the ladders from reaching the city. Gradually, slash by slash, groan by groan, the defenders gained the upper hand and killed all the Roon atop the parapet. Before any more could reach them from the ground, oil was poured over the ladders and ignited with flaming brands.
Granted a moment of reprieve, Caspan and Lachlan staggered away from the wall. They found a quiet section at the back of the battlement, where a few soldiers were heating pots of pitch over fire. The boys slumped to the ground and rested their swords across their thighs.
Caspan stared at the dead and wounded littering the parapet. Morgan and a few other soldiers were busy assisting those who were hurt. ‘It’s not like what you hear about in stories, is it?’
Lachlan shook his head. ‘There’s no glory in this.’ He ran a hand through his hair and looked at Caspan. His eyes narrowed with concern. ‘Are you hurt?’
Caspan followed the direction of his gaze and felt along his forehead. He lowered his hand and inspected the blood smeared on his fingertips before wiping the hem of his cloak across his brow. ‘No. It must be from one of the Roon.’ He noticed Lachlan fingering the soul key tied around his neck. ‘It mightn’t be long before we summon Talon.’
‘That’s what I was thinking.’ Lachlan stared around the battlements, and noticed a boy, not much older than himself, helping Morgan lift a wounded soldier from beneath a giant. The boy’s bare feet and lopsided helmet suggested that he was from one of the nearby farms and had joined one of the militia groups. ‘He won’t be as lucky, though.’
Caspan swallowed. ‘I know.’
A cry rang out from one the defenders, urging the two to grab their swords and spring to their feet. They hurried with Morgan over to the side of the wall, where they stared down at the Roon army.
Caspan’s blood turned to ice. ‘That’s all we needed.’
‘Bring oil and fire!’ Morgan yelled.
As the Master’s order reverberated along the parapet, Caspan sheathed his sword and snatched the bow from his back. He nocked an arrow to the string, took position in a crenellation and gazed down at the battering ram being brought towards the city gates, directly beneath them. Constructed from the trunk of an enormous felled tree, it was almost six feet in diameter and over fifty yards long. Its blackened surface revealed that the Roon had deliberately burnt the outer layer of bark to prevent it from catching fire from incendiary arrows. The battering ram’s wheels creaked and groaned as dozens of giants pushed it forward. A Roon wearing a black-iron helm stood atop it, urging his fellow giants onwards with a cracking whip.
The Darrowmere soldiers shot arrow after arrow at the huge siege weapon and the Roon. Many of the giants fell, only to be quickly replaced by others, who tossed aside their weapons and used their massive shoulders to heave the battering ram forward. Soon it was covered in feathered shafts, but the charred wood didn’t catch alight from the flaming arrows.
Slowly, yard by yard, the battering ram drew closer, until it was directly in front of the city gates. The Roon armed with the whip cracked off the shaft of an arrow lodged in his thigh, thrust it towards the wall and roared a command. The giants answered by pushing with all their might, sending the battering ram speeding towards the gates. The defending archers shot furiously, and every man who was available hurled boulders and poured boiling oil down onto the Roon. But nothing could stop them.
Caspan grabbed hold of the closest merlon, bracing himself for the impact. A tremendous crash shook throughout the entire city. The stone foundations beneath Caspan’s feet trembled, but the gate held. Glancing over the parapet, he saw the Roon bring back the battering ram, preparing for a second charge.
Morgan grabbed him and Lachlan by the sleeves and pulled them down a nearby flight of stairs. ‘It won’t hold a second hit. We need to relocate to the second wall.’
They reached the courtyard behind the city gate. People were barricading the huge iron-ribbed door with wagons, barrels and wooden pylons. A stalwart band of defenders had formed a shield-wall, from behind which they locked the hafts of their spears into the gaps between the flagstones to meet the oncoming attack.
Lachlan turned to join them, but Morgan seized him by the arm and directed him to continue moving. ‘Not here. This section is lost.’
‘But we can’t just run.’ Lachlan tried to pull free, but the Master’s grip remained firm.
Morgan regarded him sternly. ‘Your sword won’t change the outcome of this fight. Remember what I said about no heroics? Now move, before it’s too late!’
Dragging Lachlan after him, the Master led them to a crowd of people rushing through the gate of the second wall. Once the last person was through, the portcullis was lowered.
Morgan and the boys dashed up a flight of stairs leading to the battlements. There was an enormous crash from behind. Caspan exchanged a worried look with Lachlan, then raced up the stairs. Reaching the top, he drew his bow and pushed through the mass of soldiers atop the second gate. He shuddered when he gazed over the parapet.
The first gate and barricade had been smashed aside by the battering ram. Roon warriors were swarming through the breach and charging at the defenders. Despite the ferocity of their attack, the shield-wall held. But it would not hold forever.
Caspan made room for Morgan, and they joined their bows to the dozens of archers shooting at the giants, picking them off the instant they clambered through the shattered remains of the barricade. Soon the dead were piled high, but the Roon were unstoppable.
Caspan placed his third-last arrow to his string and took aim at a giant who was hammering his black mace against the shield-wall. ‘I’m almost out!’ He hurried his shot, the arrow striking sparks on a flagstone a yard behind the Roon. Caspan spared an anxious glance
along the parapet and noticed many of the archers had empty quivers and bolt-pouches.
Morgan prepared his final shot. ‘We need more arrows!’ His voice was a hoarse cry that rose above the clamour of the battle below.
But no runners with the much-needed arrows and bolts came, and the men atop the second battlement watched helplessly as the Roon amassed in numbers. It wasn’t long before the shield-wall collapsed and the giants gained access to the stairs leading to the outer wall. Some soldiers tried to stop them, but they were smashed aside.
The fight to hold the outer wall had begun.
With no chance of making it back to the safer zones of the city, the defenders fought for their lives. But the Roon were too strong, cutting them down with swipes of their axes and black-bladed swords. Arrows were finally supplied to the soldiers on the second wall, and they made every effort to pick off the giants. It was difficult, though, getting a clear shot at them in the close-quarters combat, and the archers held back for fear of hitting their own men. The defenders of Darrowmere had planned to send a company of relief troops through the second gate, but it was abandoned after the Roon forced their way through the raised portcullis. It took over half an hour of bitter fighting to regain control of the area. No further sorties were attempted.
Dawn appeared as a blood-red smear on the horizon. By now the first wall was almost completely overrun. A few pockets of resistance held out, one of which was the tower where the recruits and Master had first taken position. From his elevated spot, Caspan watched the defenders struggle to keep the Roon from gaining the top of the stairs leading to the tower. The burly veteran warrior who had inspired the men earlier stood at the front of the soldiers, heaving his axe in silver arcs. When his axe got lodged in a shield, he was finally cut down. It wasn’t long then until the tower was taken.
Caspan lowered his gaze, unable to watch the massacre any longer. He was filled with a sense of hopelessness, wishing that there was something he could do, which conflicted with his feeling of relief that he had made it safely back to the second wall.
He glanced at Lachlan, who stood beside him. ‘Had we not gone to the defence of the gate, we would have been caught out there.’
Lachlan nodded grimly. He was breathing heavily, his hands locked around the handle of his bastard sword, his knuckles turning white. He swallowed, and scanned the parapet. ‘I wonder if Prince Dale made it back?’
Caspan looked across to where they had last seen the Prince. ‘I haven’t seen him since he said he was returning to the main gate.’
His attention was caught by a scream from one of the houses in the residential area that lay between the walls. The Roon were busy looting and pillaging this section, and slaying any people they found hiding. Caspan’s eyes narrowed determinedly as he felt anger build from within him.
‘I swear by all that is sacred that I am going to put an end to this war. I’m going to find a Dray weapon so powerful that it will destroy entire Roon armies. None of them will ever set foot in Andalon again.’ Caspan wiped the back of his hand against the corner of his right eye. He was surprised to find it damp with tears.
Lachlan sniffed and straightened his shoulders. ‘Yeah, well, you’d better get in line.’
Now that there was no fear of hitting their own men, the archers resumed shooting. Fortunately, the second wall was considerably higher than the outer, meaning that only those defenders who exposed themselves in the crenellations were susceptible to enemy fire. Wary nonetheless, the friends withdrew to the safety of the rear of the battlements.
Morgan returned from his patrol alongside the wall. He tossed a loaf of bread and a flagon of cider at the boys. ‘Here, eat.’
Caspan hadn’t realised how hungry he was until now. He tore off a chunk of bread and scoffed it down. ‘You haven’t seen the Prince?’ he asked the Master.
Morgan nodded. ‘I saw him a few minutes ago, down by the portcullis. He’s been ordered by his father to attend an urgent meeting in The Hold.’ He cleared his throat and readjusted his helmet so that it sat more comfortably on his bandaged forehead. He regarded the boys for a moment, his eyes soft and sympathetic. ‘How are you holding up?’
Lachlan squared his shoulders. ‘You don’t need to worry about us. It’s going to take more than a few Roon to scare me and Caspan.’ He gave Caspan a playful punch on the shoulder. ‘Isn’t that right?’
In spite of being terrified, Caspan smiled. ‘Yeah.’ He glanced at the Master. ‘Are you forgetting that we’re members of the Brotherhood?’
The corners of Morgan’s lips curled in amusement. ‘Is that so?’ He gave a gratified nod. ‘You saved my life earlier today. I couldn’t be more proud of you.’ The boys grinned in return, and the Master let his gaze linger on them for a moment, before he was called out by a commander patrolling the wall. The Master raised his index finger at the recruits, indicating that they stay put. ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’ He hurried after the officer.
Caspan was relieved that Dale, who had done so much to assist him and Lachlan, was still alive. He looked up at the towering white fortress. ‘I wonder what they’re discussing up there?’
Lachlan shrugged. ‘More than likely what they’re going to do, now that the outer wall has fallen.’ He knelt down, leaned on his sword and took a long draught from the flagon of cider. ‘I suppose it’ll be batten down the hatches until help arrives.’
Caspan stared out at the distant horizon. He sighed wearily when he could see no sign of any of the northern legions coming to raise the siege. Earlier today, he had considered Darrowmere impregnable. Having seen how quickly the outer wall fell, he very much doubted the city would still be standing by nightfall.
Surveying the Roon army, he was dispirited to find that many of the giants had not yet entered the battle, standing back as reserves, well out of bow-range. But then Caspan noticed something unusual. On a small hill, over a hundred yards back from the rear lines of the Roon army, a giant sat on a throne. He wore a wolf-skin cloak and a conical black helm. The throne was supported by two iron poles, allowing it to be carried by the accompanying bodyguards. There were half a dozen of them, armed with double-headed battleaxes and wearing black chain-mail hauberks.
Caspan pointed at the throne and its occupant. ‘What do you make of that?’
Lachlan scooped up a handful of gravel from between the flagstones and let it spill slowly through his fingers. He took another swig from the flask, passed it to Caspan and pushed himself to his feet. He shielded his eyes against the rising sun and followed the direction of Caspan’s finger.
‘It’d be their leader,’ he scoffed contemptuously. ‘He’s commanding his forces from afar, safe from danger.’
Caspan tore off another chunk of bread and handed it to Lachlan. His eyes narrowed at the Roon commander. ‘I wonder what would happen to the Roon army if he were killed?’
‘It would demoralise them. Don’t they say that the easiest way to kill a snake is to sever its head?’ Lachlan stopped chewing and stared at his friend. ‘Are you thinking what I’m thinking?’
Caspan nodded. ‘We should talk to Morgan.’
Morgan shook his head. ‘It’s too risky.’
Lachlan sighed. ‘But it’s the best chance we have of defeating them.’
The recruits had taken the Master to a tower above the second wall, offering an elevated vantage point from where they could study the Roon commander.
Lachlan gestured at the giant. ‘Look, the leader’s at least a hundred yards back from his rear troops. All he’s got protecting him are six guards.’
Morgan clicked his tongue warily. ‘And I bet they’re the six best fighters in the entire invasion force.’
Lachlan nodded reluctantly, conceding the Master’s point. ‘They most probably are. But that doesn’t change the fact that there are still only six of them.’ He licked his lips excitedly and pointed to the forested hills to the south of the city. ‘We fly out that way, giving the Roon the impression that we’r
e fleeing. But once we’re over those hills, we turn that way.’ His finger followed the horizon, tracing along the eastern side of Darrowmere, to where the crescent-shaped ridge ended to the north. ‘They’ll provide us with cover all the way up to behind the commander. If we keep low, the giants will never see us. Then we sneak through those trees over there and hit them in the rear. Fang and Talon will be able to sort out the guards.’
Morgan cocked an eyebrow. ‘Leaving you, me and Caspan to deal with their leader?’ The boys nodded eagerly and the Master’s eyebrow rose higher. ‘You do know that Roon commanders are members of the royal line, and that the ruling family earns its position by killing all rival claimants to the throne?’ He turned to regard the giant. ‘He’s a prince, and more than likely defeated over a dozen Roon in single combat.’
‘But there’s going to be three of us,’ Lachlan persisted.
Morgan rolled his eyes. ‘Of course. How silly of me.’
Fearing Lachlan was failing in his attempt to convince the Master, Caspan stepped in. ‘Darrowmere won’t hold out until help arrives. We can fly away, but what of these people? They’ll be slaughtered. This might be our only chance to save them.’
Morgan regarded him for a moment before smiling sadly. ‘You’ve got a big heart. And it might be your undoing.’ He exhaled a deep breath, leaned against a merlon and rested his hand on the pommel of the sword sheathed by his side. ‘What did I say about no acts of foolish bravado?’
‘You also told us that there are no second chances on the battlefield,’ Caspan countered. ‘This could be our only opportunity. And if you’re not happy about us fighting the Roon commander in hand-to-hand combat, we could always fly overhead and drop an incendiary bladder on top of him. That’d do the job.’
Morgan turned up his nose. ‘We’ve already faced one roc. I don’t want to run the risk of running into another.’
Lachlan kicked a broken arrow on the ground in frustration. ‘I can’t believe we’re just standing here, talking about what we should be doing.’ He glanced worriedly at the Master, knowing that he was out of line. ‘Sorry, but I don’t see how it’s any safer here than over there.’
