Up on the roof, Jo-Dal signaled his archers and watched as they all drew and held their nocked arrows. He looked over the roof edge to Taggart and nodded.
A barrage of arrows were released and arced out over the distance separating the two armies. Though the pirates were too far away for precise aiming, their volley was just able to reach the nearest enemy barricades. When the pirates saw the approaching rain of death they all scattered, each seeking protection.
At that exact moment Taggart took off sprinting to the western side of the waterfront, heading for the street which gave access to the piers.
There was no reaction at first, but Lampte and his men saw the group and started yelling instructions, urging his forces to cut them off. The pirates started to form up, but were again sent scurrying for cover as a second arrow volley struck.
Taggart and his people had taken full advantage of the distraction created by the archers. They made it almost halfway to the entrance to the piers before the pirates who were stationed there realized their intentions. They ran forward from the farther reaches of the piers to form a skirmish line, but they only had time to gather forty or more men for the effort. The others had been caught at the far end of the street and were taking longer to get there. The pirates who had reached the entrance saw a huge man running at them at a remarkable speed. He had gold-colored hair streaming out behind him, and his eyes had a strange look to them as if they were an impossible color. The image was frightening, especially when one took in the giant spiked mace that he held over his head. A few of them took a step or two backward, content with having their friends catch the brunt of the charge.
Taggart was twenty yards from the line of guarding pirates when he pulled up short and stepped to the side. His actions were matched by the other warriors at his back. All but the archers. The bowmen (and women) fanned out quickly and formed two rows of ten, one standing, the other kneeling.
Before the pirates could adequately respond to the new threat, the standing archers fired their shafts. Twenty yards of distance was child’s play for the well trained warriors and ten pirates were pierced by their darts. No sooner had the first volley struck than the kneeling line shot and nine more of the enemy fell. On the third volley the defending pirates realized that they were sitting ducks (or squatting gigs as the Olvionis called it) and began to scatter. They left another eight men dead or screaming in pain. The fourth flight of arrows dropped another five, their accuracy being reduced by the moving of the targets.
Now the way was open and Taggart shouted a command. The team reformed and surged forward again. There were a few brave individuals who tried to engage them, but these were quickly struck down. The remaining sixty or so guards who had been assigned to the pier entrance were still heading their way, but, without the reinforcements of the other pirates out on the piers, they were now outmanned by the Olvionis. The smart ones feigned being too slow to reach them before they got to the bridge. The stupid ones died.
Racing over the bridge, Taggart smashed into a group of six defenders. His size and body weight served to propel two of them backward to land on their backsides. A swipe of the mace ruined the face of one who was still standing. The backhand caved in the ribs of another. Then the warriors following him swiftly finished off the others.
They reached the other side and were met by three dozen pirates. Taggart screamed like a madman and grabbed the neck of the first man he came to. He lifted the unfortunate soul off of his feet and brought the mace down upon his head. A pirate next to him tried to bury a short spear into his abdomen, but the weapon was deflected by another warrior who then cleaved the man from shoulder to sternum.
As the warriors drove the defenders backward, the archers, supported by ten swordsmen, broke off to find concealing positions from which to defend the bridge. Already they could see pirates swarming in their direction from the other piers to the east.
The knot of pirate defenders at the bridge were driven back quickly. They had originally numbered less than forty and the warriors had greater numbers and greater skills.
Taggart kicked out with the flat of his boot and caught a fleeing pirate in the back. The man shot forward more quickly than he had planned and wound up plunging into the water off of the side of the bridge. Another pirate threw a stone the size of a grapefruit and hit Taggart in the cheek. Blood flowed and was ignored. He was too far away to reach the man with his weapon so he drew it back and launched it. The lethal iron and wood weapon spun twice in the air before catching the pirate in the side of the head. The spikes attached themselves to his cranium and held fast as he dropped lifeless to the ground.
One of the last surviving pirates still near the bridge saw Taggart without a weapon and gambled on being able to kill him with a sword thrust. Taggart’s long arms grabbed the hand that held the weapon and twisted sharply. The pirate screamed in pain. He was then lifted over the big man’s head and slammed down across his knee. He was not moving when Taggart tossed him aside to retrieve his mace.
This section of piers had originally been protected by a hundred pirates. There were now less than fifty remaining, and these were now running away from the attacking Olvionis, not toward them. Taggart pointed to where they were gathering and sprinted to their location. Of the fifty pirates left on the western piers roughly half of them opted to abandon their weapons and dive into the deep water at the side. The remaining men died bravely but quickly. Taggart admired their courage at not fleeing, but again reminded himself that these were people who had invaded their country and enslaved his wife. He would waste no sympathy on them.
He looked about himself. The piers were now under their control.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Captain Jile had not left the forecastle of the Dreadnaught since his ship entered the Kylee harbor. His scope had been kept extended, and he was constantly checking the activity ashore. He had been frustrated to the point of rage when he saw that their plan of supporting the invasion was still being denied by the men guarding the piers. Several times he started to order the ships under his command to try docking anyway even though he knew the price to be paid would be huge.
Now he grabbed a hanging lanyard and leaned forward to steady his view through the scope. There was action occurring on some of the piers. Jile’s nimble mind quickly recalled the layout of the waterfront area. During the many years that he had lived in Kylee he had tied up at all of the piers at least once. In a moment he thought he knew what was taking place. He gritted his teeth. If he were wrong, many men would die needlessly. He was aware that he and his crews could still escape the harbor and go back to the life of a land squatter.
But, if he was right…
For the first time in hours the scope was snapped shut.
***
On his rooftop, Jo-Dal was alternating between watching the activity on the piers and the ships bobbing in the harbor. He was elated when he saw the capture of the western piers. He prayed they would be able to hold them long enough. If not, they had no chance of survival.
His heart leapt when he saw the unfurling sheets of every ship in the harbor. He thought to himself that they might actually have a shot of making his desperate plan succeed.
Now there was movement at the pirate barricades. Large groups of men were gathering, preparing to storm the bridge leading to the western piers. Their commander had actually come down from his position on the tall wagon to get them moving quickly. Jo-Dal noticed that some of the pirates did not appear eager to join in. He saw several of them arguing with their officers and refusing to leave their relatively safe positions behind the barricades. That was good. It meant that the chain of command was collapsing. If he had time for a few more harassing assaults he might have been able to disassemble it completely.
He saw that the pirates were preparing to throw another three hundred fighters at the bridge. They knew that getting those ships docked was crucial to the success of the invasion.
The commander of the Olvioni forces searc
hed his mind, frantically trying to recall some tactic that he had been taught which could help the small group that had valiantly volunteered to assault the piers. They had started out with only a hundred warriors. Jo-Dal had no way of knowing how many of those had been killed or wounded in the effort.
The bridge to the piers that they had taken was narrow and easily defended, but any position could be overrun with enough people and enough time. The pirate’s biggest advantage was still their greater numbers. If this new three hundred man assault force was unable to take back the captured piers they could simply keep adding personnel until enough of Tag-Gar’s warriors had been killed and the deed could be accomplished.
A thought came to mind. It was not something that he had been taught in his military education, just a quick thought. He attacked the idea with a few quick “what ifs”, trying to find a weakness in his thinking. He couldn’t. Besides, time was on the side of the pirates right now.
Jo-Dal sent a runner to Palto with details of his intentions.
***
Taggart took a count of the people he had remaining who were unscathed or only slightly wounded and able to continue fighting. He had eighty two warriors that fit that description. Ten of his people had been killed in the effort to liberate the bridge and piers. Eight more were now suffering from wounds serious enough to prevent them from standing, let alone fighting.
Two of his archers had been slain despite their efforts to protect them, and one was among the seriously wounded. That was costly. The archers were their best defense against an attempt to retake the piers. He gathered and distributed the three bows and quivers to warriors who claimed to have some training with the weapons.
With the piers now completely free of pirates Taggart gathered his remaining people at the bridge. As an afterthought he gathered arrows from the bodies of slain pirates and stuck them in the sand in front of the position he had taken to defend the bridge.
In a macabre but necessary move, he had the dead bodies of the enemy stacked like sandbags on the pier side of the bridge to give them protection from an archery attack if needed and to present an obstacle to any advancing infantry.
Once he had done everything he could think of to do he pulled his bow from his vest and set it on the ground. The sight of the beautifully crafted weapon immediately drew the attention of his warriors, especially the archers. One female archer asked to hold it. He allowed it and she hefted it, showing it to her fellow bowmen.
“But, how do you string it?” she asked. “The bow is too thick to be bent.”
Taggart took it back and wrapped his leg around the base of the weapon like Geord had shown him. He then grasped the tip of the bow in his left hand and the looped string in his right. With the archers watching him with dubious expressions he shoved down on the bow and pulled up on the string. The weapon bent to the point where it was halfway where it needed to be before it started singing. That was the word that Taggart had given the condition where the layers of wood and varnish began to react with sounds reminiscent of an old Earth saw being played like an instrument. The archers and other warriors gathered around more closely, intrigued by the sight and sound. The travel of the string’s looped end did not slow once it had begun. It continued upward until it slipped neatly over the bow’s tip and nestled into the groove that had been carved there to hold it in place.
Taggart was mildly embarrassed when the warriors gave a cheer, but he realized that the display of strength had given his people a small amount of encouragement. He was, after all, The Legend, at least in the minds of some. The myth of The Legend was something like the Bigfoot of Taggart’s home planet Earth. Some of the citizens of Olvion believed the saga of a near-giant hero who had appeared to help rout the invasion of the Grey Ones two hundred years previously. Those people tended to also believe the songs and stories which predicted the return of that hero when needed by the people of Olvion. Many of those same people believed Taggart to be that reincarnated hero. Others were more skeptical, but all of them could see the considerable strength that their leader possessed, and it helped push back their fear of what they knew was coming.
Taggart looked over the positions his people had taken. They had mostly chosen wisely, and he had only minor changes to make, mostly to provide more protection to his archers.
The big man found a perch on the top of a mound of dirt and looked at the pirate camp. They were definitely gearing up for an assault on Taggart’s position. He looked to the line of buildings behind which Jo-Dal’s forces were deployed. He was surprised to see activity there, but he could spare no time to try to puzzle out what his commander was doing.
Turning around he searched the seas and saw the full sails of the ships in the harbor. He pointed it out to his people who gave another cheer. At least that was going according to plan. The closest ship was about a half hour away from making landfall. They had to give them that half hour no matter what transpired or the entire invasion would fail, and every man and woman would be put to the sword. Pirates were not known to be merciful.
Turning around again Taggart saw a group of enemy fighters heading toward their position at the bridge. They appeared to have his people outnumbered about three to one. He examined the bridge again. It was narrow and long which would serve to restrict the number of fighters that they could throw at them at one time. Luckily they didn’t have to worry about being flanked. If the pirates tried something like putting fighters into the water they would be easy targets for his archers.
The pirate assault force was now moving onto the street which led to the bridge. That put them about a hundred yards from Taggart’s position. He ordered his team to take positions and be ready. He then estimated the range to the advancing pirates and took a deep breath and blew it out. He plucked an arrow from the ground and nocked it. While the others looked on skeptically he drew the shaft back until the feathers touched his right cheek. He looked at the advancing horde and made a slight adjustment to his aim. Then he released the string.
There was a loud sound like someone plucking a banjo string and the shaft shot out like a rocket with impressive velocity. The heads of Taggart’s warriors swiveled from watching him to where the pirates were massed on the street. There was a moment of inaction while the arrow’s flight was lost in the distance then one of the men in front of the enemy’s ranks fell screaming with an arrow lodged in his belly.
The warriors in Taggart’s team cheered again, but he didn’t stop to enjoy the approval. He would only get a limited amount of time to employ his advantage. He lined up another arrow and launched it. Another pirate fell while crying out in agony. The tightly packed configuration of the oncoming group made it almost impossible for his arrows to miss a target. He continued to rain death down upon the pirates until they eventually stopped their advance and sought cover in the foliage at the sides of the road. That was a result that he had not dared to hope for. He stole a glance back at the approaching ships.
Taggart briefly reflected on his twice-a-week practice sessions at the archery range back on Earth and realized just how helpful that training had been.
Everyone on Taggart’s team drew a deep breath of relief. They suspected the pause in the assault on their position would last only until the pirates realized that every moment that they delayed brought the fleet a little closer to the piers. Taggart postponed his long-range attack, waiting for the enemy to bunch up again and improve his chances of scoring hits. His long-range success with the bow seemed to have stymied the pirates, at least temporarily. Bowshots at the ranges he was reaching was presumably considered impossible by the pirates until now. They were probably trying to determine if all of his archers were able to match his range. Sadly, they were not. Taggart gave a silent thanks to old Geord for the respite in the action.
Now they saw movement at the sides of the road. Smaller bunches of pirates were sprinting from one position of concealment to another. They were getting themselves closer group by group. It was a good plan. The pir
ates were not exposing themselves long enough for Taggart to take effective aim. He knew they would continue to draw closer in this manner until they were near enough to charge in at full strength.
Taggart felt a nudge on his arm and turned to see a young woman archer. She didn’t say anything but pointed to a gap in foliage on the route that most of the pirates were taking to the bridge. Taggart studied the area before realizing what his archer was pointing out. The pirates who had to sprint across the gap were gathering in the tress just before it. When enough of them were ready they would race to the other side as a group. In the moments before they ran, they were packed together quite densely. He took aim at the patch of trees before the gap and launched an arrow. There was no discernable reaction. He shot another at the same spot and this time was rewarded with a scream. The action served to cause the pirates to seek another route to the bridge, buying Taggart’s team more time. At this point every single second counted.
He took another look at the sea. The ships appeared to be closer, but he doubted they would arrive before the bridge was assaulted.
***
Jo-Dal had a signalman wave a yellow pennant in the air, making certain that all of his people, and the warriors assigned to Palto on the eastern flank had observed it. He drew his sword, and the other warriors readied their weapons. Jo-Dal pointed his sword in front of him, and all of his forces started weaving their way through the seaside structures and out into the open land beyond. They moved quickly and orderly just like the disciplined army that they were. Before anyone in the pirate camp fully understood what was happening they were formed up into four rectangular formations.
***
Lampte was still on the ground and trying to observe what was happening with the assault on the bridge. One of his people grabbed his shoulder and pointed out the large formations of outlanders already in assault positions directly in front of the barricades. They were no farther than two hundred yards away already.
The Coastal Kingdoms of Olvion: Book Two of The Chronicles of Olvion Page 47
