Brown,_Simon_-_[Keys_Of_Power_03]_-_Sovereign

by Simon Brown

  'Stop it!' Ager shouted.

  Jenrosa shut up and stared at Ager in shock. Her body started shaking like a leaf in a storm.

  Pity overwhelmed Ager and he took her in his arras. At first she resisted, continued to shake, but he held her tighter and she broke down, crying in great wracking sobs that were like cries of pain. Ager said nothing, and when the sobbing started to ease he led her inside her tent and laid her down on her cot.

  She did not stop crying for a long time, and then only because she eased into a deep sleep. Ager pulled a blanket over her and stood up. He studied her face for a long time, trying—almost hoping—to find some sign of madness there. He could deal with that, he thought. He knew he could not deal with the other possibility: that Lynan had become something less than human.

  Lynan told Ager the new trench work was to cover the west wall as well as the north. Ager made sure most of the visible activity was being spent on the extension in the hope it would convince those inside the city that the west wall was Lynan's principal objective. In four days the trenches were finished. As well, Captain Waylong informed Ager that two of the old Haxan tunnel entrances had not been found by the enemy and they could dig a mine under the north wall in four days. When Ager told Lynan the news he knew what would happen next.

  Lynan ordered the assault on the west wall to begin the following day.

  CHAPTER 13

  Charion woke, startled, staring into the dark. For a moment all she could think of were the shreds of a dream; fragments of a green forest, alluring and somehow threatening at the same time.

  Then the sound of a trumpet, and she recognised the sound that had woken her. It had come from the west. She leaped out of her bed and rushed to the window. She could hear sounds of running soldiers, cries, the sound of fear, the low ringing of despair.

  Someone banged on her door. Farben's voice. 'Your Majesty! They attack the west wall! They attack the west wall!'

  She hurried to the door and flung it open. Her secretary was holding a torch, its flame exaggerating his frightened features. 'Get in!' she ordered, and used the light to slip on her hauberk and sword belt, then together they rushed out of the palace, Charion's helmet under her arm, Farben pattering behind.

  Around her sergeants and captains were shouting orders, making sure soldiers kept to their posts and did not automatically rush to the point of attack only to leave other sections of the wall vulnerable. Other inhabitants hovered near the doorways of their homes, hugging their children to them. Workers were busy lighting lamps spaced along the streets.

  Galen joined her. 'The knights are ready,' he told her. She nodded. As they drew closer to the west wall she could hear the cries of the enemy, the wild whoops of the Chetts. She repressed the shiver starting up her spine. She had faced them once before and beaten them off. This time, in her own city, she would do it again.

  The three of them reached stairs and ran up, went through a guard tower and then they were there. She pulled a soldier away from the wall and looked over. She could see a scuttling tide of warriors gathering around the foot of the wall. Ladders were being raised. Ropes with hooks twirled in the air. Arrows flashed in the night, most clattering uselessly against the stonework, some found a mark.

  'How many?' Galen asked.

  Charion shrugged. 'Too dark to be sure. Several hundred. A thousand.'

  'A diversion?'

  Again she shrugged. How did he expect her to know so soon? Then she remembered he had never been through a siege, and although she had only gone through one, compared to Galen she was a veteran. The thought made her smile grimly. 'Too early to tell.'

  An arrow whistled passed her ear.

  'Put out that fucking torch!' a voice roared.

  Farben whimpered and dropped the torch to the ground below, narrowly missing a worker stoking a fire under a cauldron of oil. More curses, and more whimpering from Farben.

  'What are you doing here?' Charion asked the secretary.

  'Waiting for orders,' he said.

  She looked at him then, a man as small as she and not suited for anything really except life at court; and yet he had never deserted her, always been at her side if he could, in spite of any danger.

  'Go back to the palace,' she said gently. 'I will ask for you if I need you.'

  Farben hesitated, did a little nervous dance with his feet.

  'Go,' she repeated.

  He nodded, smiled thankfully and left.

  The top of a roughly made wooden ladder appeared over the wall. A soldier with a long forked stick started pushing it away when Charion stopped him. She tested the ladder. 'Wait until there is more weight against it.' They waited a few seconds and Charion tested it again. 'Now!' she ordered, and the soldier pushed with all his strength. Galen got behind and helped. The ladder seemed to balance in midair for a moment, then finally eased back away from the wall. They heard no screams, but two very satisfying thumps. The soldier grinned at Charion, turned to thank Galen for his help. Something hit him in the head, flinging him off the walkway to land in a broken heap on the ground below.

  Galen swore. 'What was that?'

  Something smacked hard into the tower behind them and dropped to the walkway. 'They're throwing bloody rocks at us!' Galen said and scrunched down to present a smaller target.

  Charion went over to the object and picked it up. 'No,' she said, surprised by its weight. 'It's metal, not stone.'

  'Metal? That means…'

  'Ballistae!' Charion finished for him. She looked at Galen in alarm. 'The Chetts don't have sappers!'

  More guards were hit and everyone on the walkway hunkered down behind the parapets. A cluster of new ladders and rope hooks appeared; no one seemed to be in a hurry to expose themselves to the ballistae to push them away.

  'Come on!' Charion shouted to Galen, and together they stood up, grabbed one of the forked sticks and forced a ladder far enough off balance for it to topple sideways. This time there were some screams. Everyone else on the walkway, shamed into action, stood then and pushed at the ladders and severed the climbing ropes. A few of the defenders were hit by metal missiles, but no enemy made it to the top. When the last ladder was gone everyone ducked back down again.

  'Who taught the Chetts to build artillery?' Galen asked, not expecting an answer.

  Charion slapped the wall. 'That's why Lynan didn't attack us right after the battle!'

  Galen looked at her curiously. 'What are you talking about?'

  'He attacked Salokan! Don't you see? He had to rebuild his army's confidence, and Salokan's army was already defeated and in retreat. The Haxans had sappers. Lots of them.'

  'It wouldn't take him all this time to destroy an army and recruit its sappers,' Galen said.

  'No, but it might take him that long to conquer Haxus.'

  'God,' Galen said as the implications of what Charion was suggesting sank in. 'We're in trouble.'

  Charion nodded. All the hurried repair work they had done to Daavis had been in expectation of an assault by a Chett army unversed in the art of siege warfare and, even more importantly, without the expertise necessary to build artillery and siege engines. She had never expected Lynan's army to attempt anything more complex than scale the city walls or try and undermine them.

  'We're going to lose Daavis,' Galen said sombrely.

  'I'm not going to lose my city!' Charion said fiercely. 'I beat off Salokan, I can beat off Lynan!'

  Galen said nothing, but knew that Charion beat off Salokan because Sendarus and the force he commanded—which then had included Galen and the knights from the Twenty Houses—had arrived in time to break the siege. This time there would be no one marching to the rescue. It would take months for Grenda Lear to replace the army it lost when Lynan attacked Sendarus and effectively eliminated it as a fighting force.

  'They're retreating!' someone called.

  Charion and Galen risked glimpsing over the parapets. The Chetts were running back to their lines, taking their wounded with th
em.

  'Do you have a sally port?' Galen asked suddenly.

  'Yes. We call it the main gate.'

  'Oh.'

  'I'm not going to risk you and your knights yet, Galen,' Charion told him.

  'We're not much use where we are.'

  'I'll need you if the Chetts break through. A determined charge by your force should secure any breach long enough for us to reinforce from one of the other walls.'

  'Well, they're gone for the moment.'

  'They'll be back.'

  'How long?'

  'Before evening,' Charion said. 'And they'll try here again, I'll warrant.'

  'How do you know that?'

  'Because Lynan is trying to convince us this is where he'll be getting in.'

  As Eynon's warriors reached the safety of their lines the first rays of a new day lit the eastern horizon. He had sent three hundred out, and most of them returned in good order and on their feet. When the count came back he had lost thirty dead and that many again wounded. The reports of the survivors told him what he needed to know about the defences, and he immediately started planning the next assault. Lynan, who had watched the attack with him, promised him more artillery.

  'If any of our warriors can take that wall, yours can,' Lynan told him.

  Eynon knew Lynan was clumsily attempting to build up his confidence, but there was an element of truth in his words. His warriors had carried out the attack without hesitation and had only pulled back because Eynon had given the command. Although the defences would have been too much for that first assault, he was more confident the second would do better.

  Maybe, just maybe, he allowed himself to think, this exercise will end up being something more than a simple diversion.

  Eynon made sure his warriors were rested and well fed, keeping them behind barricades, out of sight of the city. Chett archers were peppering the walls in the north and east as well as the south, and he had heard Lynan was arranging for barges to be made or brought up from outlying villages so they could put pressure on the river wall as well. Meanwhile, the Haxan sappers were digging closer and closer to the city walls. One way or another, Eynon was sure, Lynan would find a way to keep his word and make the city fall within two weeks. Once Hume was in Chett hands and the Algonka Pass secured, he could hunt down the Saranah who had attacked his clan and wipe them out.

  And then I will resurrect my clan, and we will become as strong and respected as we once were.

  As the afternoon waned, Eynon gathered nearly five hundred of his warriors together. They brought with them scaling ladders and ropes and a fierce determination to succeed where their fellow clan warriors had failed in the morning. As well, this time Eynon had more of the devilish Haxan ballistae, and Lynan had allotted them more ammunition so they could give cover from the very start of the assault. Lynan had also sent the first constructed mangonels, pieces of artillery that awed the Chetts. Where the ballistae were machines based on the principal of the bow, the mangonels were something else altogether, in concept and scale something the Chetts had never seen before.

  When it was two hours from sunset Lynan joined Eynon again.

  'Would you like to do something useful?' Eynon asked him.

  Lynan looked at him with some amusement. 'What did you have in mind?'

  'Order the artillery. I want to go up with my warriors.'

  Lynan frowned. 'I don't want to lose you, Eynon.'

  'Thank you for your concern,' he said dryly. 'But I want to know what it is like out there for myself. I don't want my warriors to think I'm the kind of leader who will not share their danger.'

  Lynan seemed doubtful, and Eynon thought he was going to refuse him. 'When you fought against the army of Grenda Lear, I understand you led the final attack against the knights from the Twenty Houses.'

  Lynan sighed. He had been outmanoeuvred. 'Very well.'

  'How quickly do those mangonels reload?'

  'I'm assured by the Haxan crews they can send off a missile every three minutes.'

  'Too slow to be much use in the attack. Have them shoot as soon as we start the charge across the open ground. With any luck those huge stones will dislodge some of the enemy from behind the parapets. Then use the ballistae until you see my warriors are near the top.'

  Lynan nodded. 'As you say. Good luck.'

  Eynon nodded and left to join his warriors. He waited until he judged the sun was shining directly in the eyes of any defenders behind the walls, stood up and waved his sword in the air. As one, his Chetts broke cover and started running across the open ground towards the west wall. They had not gone twenty paces when Eynon heard wood slam against wood, followed by the whistle of stones hurled overhead by the Haxan mangonels. They hit the west wall with loud cracks; some of the stones disintegrated, others dropped to the ground. Pulverised dust swirled around the parapets, and Eynon could hear the screams of the wounded and dying even above the war cries of the Chetts.

  Like a dark tide the attackers reached the wall and pooled under it to avoid the arrows of Hume archers. Eynon shouted orders and ladders were raised and climbing ropes with savage hooks whirled above heads. His warriors kept up their war cries and were answered by the defenders above. Missiles from the ballistae tattooed against the stonework, the sound softer if it hit a human target. The rope hooks whirled through the air, some finding purchase, others dropping. Warriors clambered up ladders, shinned up ropes. Eynon went to the nearest ladder and started climbing. From the corner of his eye he saw liquid, creamy and steaming, pour down over three Chetts on the ladder next to his. They ignited before his eyes and fell to the ground where they writhed in pain but without sound. Anger and hate welled up in him like a black tide. The warrior above him gave a victory cry as he reached the parapet then screamed, toppled backwards and over Eynon, an arrow in his eye. Then Eynon was there himself, facing a Hume archer desperately trying to nock another arrow. Eynon held on to the ladder with his sword hand and with the other unsheathed his dagger and flung it. The dagger clanged uselessly against the archer's helm, but he yelped in fright and took a step backward, disappearing over the walkway. Eynon scrabbled across the parapet and was over, his sword flashing in the golden sun as he sliced through archers and spearmen suddenly too crowded to fight back effectively.

  Other Chetts made it to the walkway and soon they secured the central section of the wall, allowing even more warriors to clamber over.

  'We've done it!' he cried. 'We've done it! Get to the gate! Get to the gate!'

  Their sabres whirling and cutting, the Chetts forced back the defenders. They reached a guard tower and killed all inside it, giving them possession of stairs leading down to the city itself. With wild whoops Eynon and his warriors poured down the stairs, scattering the defenders before them.

  In the courtyard of the palace what was left of the knights of the Twenty Houses, about three hundred heavy cavalry, waited impatiently for the call to action. Among them was Serefa, still haunted by images of his companions left behind at the outpost from which he himself had barely escaped with his life. He wanted revenge against the Chetts, but for the moment all he could do was listen to the sounds of the assault on the west wall. He gripped his reins and prayed to God that he would let the Chetts win over the wall so the knights could be called into action, and at the same time felt terribly guilty that his wish might be granted.

  After what seemed hours of listening to someone else's fight, the tone and pitch of the battle changed noticeably. It seemed closer, more desperate, and Serefa could feel in the sound the unmistakable current of panic. His heartbeat and breathing picked up and he started sweating under his breastplate and helmet.

  A messenger appeared at the courtyard entrance, looked around frantically until he found Galen and ran to him. The two exchanged terse words and the messenger left. Galen turned to his knights, raised his mailed fist and waved it in the air. Serefa could not help grinning—God had granted him his wish.

  They stayed at a walk until the
y had left the courtyard, then moved to a trot on the broad avenue leading directly west. The whole area was deserted. Ahead they could see small, ant-like figures on the west wall and smoke starting to column into the air. Galen drew his sword, and the knights eased into a canter, the sound of their horses' hooves and their jangling armour echoing in the city, their formation easing into four lines to give the maximum frontage. Serefa found himself at the far right of the second line, and he could see the enemy on the ground, overwhelming desperate defenders trying to stop them getting to the main gate in the north wall. Galen lowered his sword and the knights went from canter to gallop. The sound they made turned into a pounding that could be heard above all other noise, and the Chetts looked up and saw with terror what was bearing down on them. Some tried to form some kind of defensive line but the knights were on them too quickly. Swords swung, smashing through skull and limb, horses bit at faces and their hooves beat down on fallen bodies. The Chetts panicked and routed back to the stairs, but some of the knights, first among them Serefa, beat them to it and held them back while their fellows pressed in from the front.

  One Chett, larger and more ferocious than the rest, made his way to the front and ducked under a slashing attack from Serefa before darting under his horse. Serefa heard his mount scream in pain and then it collapsed in a heap and he found himself standing, his feet astride the dead animal. Before he could react the Chett was behind him. A huge arm locked around his throat and pulled him back, and he felt a blade slide against his neck. He tried to struggle free, shouting for help, but the blade bit deep. He felt no pain, just a warm flood and a dark curtain falling over his eyes, and as he fell atop his slain horse the last thing he saw was the Chetts scrambling past and up the stairs in a desperate bid to escape destruction.

  Galen cursed loudly as the last few Chetts managed to get down the other side of the wall before his knights could reach them, but as he looked down at the fleeing enemy he realised how few there were: a hundred perhaps, but not many more. Then he looked down on the other side at the Chett dead heaped against the stairs and the inside wall. They had fought with amazing ferocity and bravery, but in the end there was nothing they could do against his armoured knights.