Fire and Frost (Seven Realms Book 1)

by Goodner, Allen

  On some silent signal, or perhaps just by mutual accord, the fiends began their attack. They swarmed toward the castle like a hive of ants. Once more Alaric noted that any individual Frost Fiend’s movement seemed almost random. They would scurry forward then stop. They might move to the left and then back to the right without moving any closer to the castle at all. But when looked at as a whole, they moved toward the castle like a wave.

  Constantly scanning that living avalanche, Alaric noticed something else.

  “Father, I could not get a good estimate from my vantage yesterday. How many of the Frost Fiends did you see yesterday?”

  Boores frowned in thought, “I think I estimated their strength at about five thousand. Why?”

  “I’m thinking through something. How many would you say the men killed?”

  Again Boores considered, “Perhaps a thousand.”

  “Then why does that army look six thousand strong?”

  Boores looked out again at the oncoming horde and cursed. He had not even considered that the Frost Fiends might be reinforced. Now the castle’s position was in even more peril. If they could receive two thousand reinforcements in a night without the castle knowing, they would overrun the defenses before Kahji could return. There would be no hope that the duke could arrive in time to relieve them.

  Then that frozen wave slammed into the castle wall. No orders were issued. None were needed. The trebuchet fired as quickly as they were able. On the walls, arquebus and fusil tempête rained death down on the advancing horde. Prepared for siege, great cauldrons of boiling water or oil were dumped on the invaders. Alaric noted that the men in the courtyard were closer to the walls than they normally would have been. After an interminable hour, he understood why. Those men rushed up to the walls to replace the men already there. Those men sagged, relieved, and moved down to the courtyard as quickly as possible. It appeared that his father had divided the men into three groups. That would give every man about two hours of rest for every hour of combat.

  Alaric kept scanning for the Silverback. Back and forth he swept the spyglass. With no other clues, he simply worked his way as methodically as possible through the waves of Frost Fiends. Every so often he would note a particularly tight pocket of Frost Fiends. He would tell his father who would have one of the trebuchet adjust its aim, and rain death on the injudicious beasts.

  It was because of this scanning that Alaric noticed something else. Even as his mouth dried, he forced himself to speak, “Father, they seem to be driving those great beasts toward the castle. I think they’re going to have them charge the walls.”

  The baron all but snatched the spyglass from his son. “Lord God preserve us,” he breathed. Turning to the castellan, he ordered, “Have the fusiliers focus on those massive beasts. We must stop them before they reach the castle.

  Even as the massive animals started charging, the men on the walls were shifting their aim. Tongues of flame and lightning lashed out. Bolt after bolt poured down from the walls, but the colossal beasts seemed not even to feel the strikes. They charged on simply more enraged. The arquebusiers shifted their aim; stopping the Frost Fiends would have to be up to the pikemen for the time being. Lead shot was added to that rain of destruction.

  One beast fell, then two, then three. A lucky strike from a trebuchet took a fourth. The fifth and sixth fell. It wasn’t enough. Four of the beasts slammed into the wall. The sound of shattering masonry filled the air. Men screamed as they fell from the wall. The lucky ones fell inside, where they could be tended by their fellows. The unlucky ones fell into the onrushing Frost Fiends where they were trampled or savagely slain.

  The wall held. Now without the momentum, the beasts simply slammed their heads into the wall. Again and again the wall shook, but without speed to increase the force of those blows, the damage they could inflict was more limited. The seventh fell, then the eighth.

  As the final two beasts also fell, a roar of rage and challenge echoed over the sounds of battle. Alaric quickly pinpointed the source of that roar. There, at the very rear of the formation and protected by its massive guards was the Silverback. Alaric’s experience with the Frost Fiends had not made him an expert in recognizing them, but he believed this was the same one he and Kahji had fought those weeks before.

  “I see him, Father. He’s at the back of the formation.”

  The baron took the spyglass once more and followed his son’s pointing finger. “I see him. How do we force him to withdraw?”

  “Eventually, he’ll lose enough troops that he won’t have a choice. If we want to get rid of him before then, we’ll have to find some way to attack him directly. I don’t see a way to do that, though.”

  “Keep thinking,” his father said, sounding resigned. He then turned his attention back to the walls.

  Once more the defenders changed places. Fresh troops took the walls; weary, even exhausted, soldiers moved down into the courtyard. Alaric noticed that the first group of soldiers looked better, but still not fresh. He hoped that the next hour would refresh them enough to allow them to fight.

  Vainly he continued to scan the enemy for some way to get to the Silverback. Most castles had a small, hidden door somewhere in the wall to allow for messengers to leave during sieges. Castle Dell had none. The only gates the castle had were the main gate and the sally gate. Opening either of those would be useless. At best any force attempting to leave through them would run straight into the enemy. At worst, the enemy would swarm in if one of those gates were opened.

  The assault dragged on. Without any capability to destroy the walls, the Frost Fiends had to hope to be able to breach them by sheer numbers. The human soldiers were simply too well trained for that to be feasible. The humans, meanwhile, could only focus on what was immediately in front of them. They had no time to think beyond the mechanics of their duties. Again the shift changed, and again. In all, each line fought four times. By their fourth time up on the wall, the human soldiers where absolutely exhausted. Only desperation and willpower allowed them to fight on.

  Eventually the sun began to set. The attack slackened. Fewer Frost Fiends moved toward the walls, then none. Finally, they began to withdraw. Exhausted men slumped to the ground. The castle had stood for a third day. Alaric was unsure they would be able to stand for a fourth.

  Alaric and his father came down from the tower to meet with Martin and Sir Gyire. They had been in charge of the soldiers themselves, and Boores wanted to find out the status of the men. Alaric wanted to see if he could discover any more clues to his brother’s odd behavior.

  “How fare the men?” the baron asked when the four of them had assembled in the great hall.

  “They are exhausted, sire, but their morale remains high,” the castellan replied.

  “How many did we lose today?”

  “Nearly two score, my lord. That takes our fighting force down to two hundred and sixty. I do not believe that will be enough to hold the walls.”

  “Nor do I,” Martin added, “We were lucky they did not simply start using those massive catapults again. I suppose we should thank God for small favors.”

  “What options do we have?” Boores asked.

  “We could impress some of the laborers. They would not fight well, but they would fight better than no one at all,” Martin suggested.

  Sir Gyire grimaced at the suggestion, “I’m not sure they would be, my lord. It takes some time to learn to use any of our weapons the way we are using them. As tightly packed as we are, even a pike can be more of a danger to your allies than your enemies if you are not well trained.”

  “I think I have an idea,” Alaric interjected. “What of our cavalry?”

  “What?” came Martin’s contemptuous snort, “You should know as well as I do that our trained cavalry would be next to useless on the walls. Not to mention that it completely wastes them if we do get an opportunity to mount a charge.”

  “No, not that. Of course I wouldn’t suggest setting the cavalry on t
he wall. During the fighting, Father and I found where the Silverback was hiding. There was nothing we could do with the information, however. He was too far back. But if we had a force of cavalry already outside the castle, we could signal them if we locate him again tomorrow. They might be able to attack him and kill him. Hopefully they would at least make him withdraw again.”

  Before Martin’s sneer could be turned into another argument, the baron nodded, “You make an excellent point, but how would we tell them where to find him?”

  “Have them camp behind the castle. We can’t send anyone out to them, but we could still communicate from the wall. Use coins of communication. You would have one, and the leader of the cavalry would have its mate. You can stay in the keep for a better vantage point, and anyone on the wall who finds the Silverback could signal you.”

  “And you’re sure this will work?”

  “Honestly, father, I’m not. But it is the best I’ve been able to come up with. At the very least it would give us a chance. A chance is better than what we’ll have otherwise.”

  CHAPTER 25

  Once more up before the dawn, Alaric now stood on the wall itself. The sky was tinted steel grey as the sun rose. It seemed to him that the whole world held its breath waiting for the coming assault. Heavy clouds hung low in the sky. The promise of rain would have been welcome in other circumstances, but today it would hinder the defenders of the castle more than it would likely slow the advancing army.

  Alaric looked up at the window where he knew his father watched. Now that he knew what to look for and, hopefully, where to look, the baron believed the best place for his third son was on the wall, directly leading troops. He had taken up with Sergeant Jehan’s men. Even after yesterday’s battle, their desire for revenge had not been slaked. They hoped for more payback this day.

  Alaric looked over to where the wall still showed cracks from yesterday’s battle. The workers had repaired it as much as they were able in the night, but it would not be as strong as it should be. They had even braced it with large timbers, but Alaric knew it could not take much more. With luck it wouldn’t have to. The Frost Fiends had shown no ability to redeploy those massive catapults against the walls, and now their great beasts had been slain as well.

  He turned his attention back outward. With the sun up, it would only be a matter of minutes before he saw that great wave of beasts swarming across the landscape. Unconsciously, he gripped the hilt of his sword. Up and down the line of defenders men similarly gripped or checked their weapons to be sure they were ready. Alaric spared a brief moment to check the trebuchet. Seeing them ready, he again faced out. No comfort would come from inside the walls today.

  The entire castle watched silently as Frost Fiends appeared once more. That they could fall so far back as to be invisible from the walls was an item of concern, but it was nothing the defenders could address. Now, as before, that mass of motion surged toward them. Alaric took only enough time to ensure their advance had not changed before he went to scanning them for their Silverback. Back and forth, up and down he scanned that seemingly unstoppable wave.

  As his attention reached the back of the formation, his heart sank, “Jesus, son of Mary…” he breathed. His words trailed off as his mind began to gibber in the first true panic he had felt since his first encounter with the beasts. At the back of the formation came five more of the great beasts leading five more of those great catapults. Alaric barely heard the soldiers around him echoing his sentiment, if not his words.

  Raising his voice, he addressed the men around him, “Mind your roles, men. God will protect us, but we have to protect these walls! Stand firm!”

  As motivational speeches went, it ranked fairly low on the scale. It had its intended effect, however, and the men around him seemed to settle down. If the Hero of the Firemarch said it would be okay, who were they to disbelieve? They all knew of his exploits in the first assault, and again when he returned to the castle. Most of them knew of the prowess he showed fighting the monsters at the duke’s court. Like a wave was passing through them, the men settled down and returned their own attention to that advancing horde.

  Then Alaric had an idea. With their great range, he could not attack them from within the castle, but perhaps the cavalry stationed outside could repeat his attack of two days prior. Quickly he grabbed the nearest page, “Go to my father. Tell him to send at least half of the cavalry we’re holding in reserve to disable those catapults. It may be our only chance! Go now!”

  As the boy ran on his errand, Alaric felt the wall under him shake. The first of those great boulders had struck the wall. Grim faced and determined, he turned back to the battle. If any hope was to be had, it was in the slow rate of fire of the massive siege engines and the cavalry’s relative speed. Until then, he had to hold the line.

  He looked again at the oncoming army. Once more he noted the individually chaotic, but over-all steady advance of them. When he judged the leading edge close enough, he signaled the trebuchet.

  The long arms of the elegant siege engines swung up and over; they were already loaded for infantry. The slings fell limp as the bundles of projectiles lofted up and over the walls. Stones fell among the Frost Fiends; each trebuchet probably accounted for twenty or more of the monsters. It was like using a candle to stop an avalanche.

  Then, they were at the wall. They barely hesitated as they began climbing. Their sharp claws allowed them to climb the vertical surface as though they were climbing a ladder. Before the first wave was five feet up, he signaled the men on the walls. Fusil tempête and arquebus roared. Fire, lightning, and hot lead rained down on the Frost Fiends.

  Then the mechanics of defending the castle took over. The fusilier and arquebusiers would fire as fast as they were able. Any Frost Fiend that managed to get near the top of the wall was struck down by one or more pikes before it could gain its footing. The trebuchet fired as quickly as possible.

  Alaric was dimly aware when the walls shook again. Now he and the men had the measure of those great missiles, and they knew about how fast the Frost Fiends could hurl them. Few were taken by surprise. Fewer stumbled or fell.

  Sure of the defenders, Alaric turned his attention back to the Frost Fiends. Even if the cavalry stopped the colossal catapults, their best chance was to find the Silverback and attack him directly. Once again he scanned the force looking for his opponent.

  Finally, he found what he was looking for. Once more in the back, on the other side of the formation from the day before, the Silverback and his guards sat. It had apparently learned better than to attack the walls itself.

  He turned toward the window where his father should be watching. He gaped, not understanding. His father was not in the window, and it had been shuttered. Their best chance of directing the remaining cavalry was severely compromised if not gone completely. Before he could react, he felt the air freeze in his lungs.

  Looking up, he saw a huge Frost Fiend climbing over the wall. It was the middle of five of the monsters which had reached the top. Somehow they had not been stopped, and Alaric and his men did not have pikes to put them down. With no other choice, Alaric raised his shield and charged. His men came in his wake.

  Before the first beast could find firm footing, Alaric slammed into it with his shield. It started to topple, and he thrust with his sword. Because of its backward motion, he scored only a glancing blow. It didn’t matter, that one was out of the fight for the moment. Alaric looked up to find the men with him swarming over the other four beasts. They followed his lead in sending them back down to the ground. The fall would have been fatal to a human. The fiends merely seemed dazed.

  “Hold the wall. I’m not sure what is wrong with my father, but I have to go alert the cavalry,” Alaric had to shout his order to the sergeant over the din of battle.

  Seeing the affirming nod, Alaric tore away from battle. He ran at a reckless speed down the ladder, and then across the courtyard. Reaching the far side of the wall, he ran back up
the ladder there and paused in horror.

  The entire cavalry force was still there. They had not been dispatched to combat the catapults. Before the idea could fully sink in, he felt a third tremble in the walls. Another volley had struck the castle.

  He shook his head to clear it, and then yelled down to the knight-captain in charge of the cavalry, “Captain, divide your men in two. Half need to circle around to the south, and attack the rear from that direction. You should be able to find the Silverback easily. The other half need to circle to the north and strike the new siege engines the Frost Fiends brought. Ride swiftly- I’m not certain we can survive another volley from those engines!”

  The captain nodded and issued brief orders. The cavalry force split in two and rode quickly to follow their orders. Alaric could only hope they could reach their objective fast enough. With nothing left to do, Alaric ran back to the wall.

  As he reached the front of the castle, he saw reinforcements swarming up the ladders. The first hour was done. With any luck, the battle would not continue for another.

  While the initial line of defenders rested, Alaric again climbed to the top of the wall to view the battle. It was possible something would change and allow a counter-assault. He had to be ready.

  “My lord, you should be down in the courtyard. We will need you rested,” Sergeant Jehan urged him.

  “No, Sergeant. My place is here. If the opportunity presents itself for a counter-attack, we must be ready to exploit it. Go rest.”

  Though his words had been true, Alaric was more interested in watching what the cavalry would do. A full third of the available cavalry were now engaged in high risk maneuvers. If they succeeded, the castle would probably be saved. If they failed, all inside would probably perish. A counter-attack was a desperate hope at best.

  Alaric kept tabs on the knights’ progress. They were keeping far enough away from the engagement that they would not be drawn into it early. He hoped they were still close enough to reengage quickly. It would be a fine line, Alaric knew, but it was one that had to be followed.