by A. J. Smith
Crowe stepped away from her. ‘He needs killing,’ said the priest, moving towards the berserk man of Ursa.
Halla stayed where she was, keeping a steady stream of climbers from getting to the walls, but half her eye kept track of Crowe. The tall, bearded spectre of a priest glided through defenders, swinging his war-hammer in tight circles, until he reached the huge axe-man.
A group of attackers now held a small section of the walls, their shields held close in a semi-circle. Crowe kicked out, driving a shield into its wielder’s chest and crushing the man’s head with his hammer. Other defenders joined him and the semi-circle was slowly crushed. The huge berserker split a man in two with his axe, but turned to face the old priest and was kicked in the groin.
‘You’re big, but you’re stupid,’ roared Crowe as the man stumbled backwards, cradling his crotch in pain.
He tried to raise his axe, but repeated blows from the priest’s war-hammer crushed his defence. He took a blow to the face, another to the forehead. When his axe slumped to the stone, Crowe clubbed him to a messy death, using strength far beyond his years.
‘Hold the walls,’ repeated Halla. ‘This is not the day we fall.’
Roars of agreement sounded from the walls and the warriors of Tiergarten doubled their efforts, fighting beyond exhaustion to defend their ground. They were severely outnumbered but conviction spurred them on. She saw Timon battling four men; she saw axe-maidens facing off against berserk warriors; she saw duels, mismatches and slaughter on both sides.
Below, Falling Cloud was marshalling the cloud-men to keep the gates clear. Whenever Rulag’s men started moving the upturned carts, they were cut down by throwing-axes. The nimble warriors of the Wolf Wood were in loose formation, acting as skirmishers to blunt any attempt at breaching the gatehouse.
Just when she was starting to lose track of time, a horn sounded from the plains and the attackers withdrew, fleeing in chaotic lines across the plains of Tiergarten to their waiting rearguard. Cheers and shouts chased them from the city, accompanied by axes striking stone in a mocking salute.
She leant on her axe and smiled, trying to slow her laboured breathing. As the adrenaline faded, she checked herself for new wounds and found none except a nasty cut to the back of her hand. For a brief moment, with no sounds of combat to assault her thinking, Halla wondered how many men she’d killed.
***
Two hours later they came again. This time, the catapults were loosed first in a series of concentrated barrages at the centre of the wall. Tricken assessed every boulder’s impact, shouting to her about the widening breach in the battlements, until, with another horn, the army rushed the walls and were once again turned back.
As the day dragged on, the defenders became a battered line of hyper-alert warriors, waiting for the next attack and the next man to kill. She stayed with Crowe and Timon, always at the point of contact on the forward walls, driving their battle brothers to fight through their relentless example.
Alahan joined them during the day. The young thain was now a different man. With the safety of his sister and the memory of his time in the vault, he now had something tangible to fight for. Even Halla was impressed at his skill and ferocity. He was arrogant about so many things – his father, his name – but not about his prowess in battle, and this was where his true might shone through. She didn’t care about anything else; she was simply glad to have a fearsome warrior standing next to her, exemplar of Rowanoco or not.
Rulag’s men attacked twice more, each time driving their bodies a little further through the breach and on to the walls. Falling Cloud kept the gateway clear, but his force was dwindling as more and more men were needed on the walls. As the sky began to bruise and the day drew to a close, their losses became obvious.
‘Run, ya bastards,’ snarled Crowe as the attackers withdrew from their latest assault.
She slumped to the dusty stone battlements and winced in pain. ‘My back feels like there’s still an axe in it.’
The priest wiped blood from his face and smiled at her. It was the only smile she could see among the defenders. The others were standing as statues, looking at dead friends and relatives, unable or unwilling to stand down and take rest. She didn’t dare look closely for fear that she’d see Tricken, Rorg, Falling Cloud, Timon or Heinrich, slumped dead at their post.
She could hear Lullaby below, as the wise woman scuttled forward lending aid to wounded and dying men, and she could see Alahan, glaring at the running men of Ursa, but everyone else was beyond her sight.
‘They won’t come again ’til the morning,’ said Crowe.
***
She slept. Bedrolls had been packed into the Riverman’s Exchange building, off Ulric’s Yard, and hundreds of men and women were snatching a few hours’ troubled sleep. Only Brindon Crowe and Alahan had taken the walk back up Kalall’s Steps to the High Hold. The few non-combatants did the job of clearing bodies, bashing dents out of breastplates and repairing links in chain mail. Several old men, former blacksmiths and stonemasons, had come out of retirement to lend their skills to the defence of Tiergarten, but everyone else tried to sleep. None of her captains were dead, though all had new scars to show their fellows. Her company had been at the front each time an assault came, using their experience to drive the less-skilled defenders to greater and greater deeds of valour. Even with Rulag’s reduced force, Tiergarten was punching well above its weight.
Somewhere across the plains of Summer Wolf, she imagined the lord of Jarvik raged. He’d thrown everything at the city, believing a swift victory would be secured by his darkwood trees and his advantage of numbers. He had not known about Halla and her company. He hadn’t known about Unrahgahr and the Ice Men, nor about Rorg, Timon and their Low Kasters. But still he had the advantage of numbers, an advantage that would slowly kill the defenders. Unless Alahan and Crowe were right, and the Ice Giant would lend his support.
Alahan was different now. He no longer averted his eyes from Halla, nor did he show anxiety or doubt. He’d become a commander, as respected as any man in Tiergarten. She tried to look past him and see the big picture, but her resolve was faltering.
After three hours of restless sleep, a nagging itch at the back of her neck caused her to wake and leave the Riverman’s Exchange. The battlements were quiet, the breach well-guarded and skeleton crews remained on watch by each ballista. Ulric’s Yard was dotted with fires and clusters of resting defenders. Tiergarten was deathly quiet, with just whistling cold air plummeting down Kalall’s Steps. The sky was sparkling black and beautiful next to the snow-capped buildings.
An explosion sounded from behind her and she jumped in surprise as a column of fire rose suddenly in the city. In Starshold, the second level of Tiergarten, a large building was now aflame, sending muddy soot into the clear air. She froze for a moment, uncertain of what to do or what the explosion might mean. Citizens ran from the second level, heading to Kalall’s Steps to avoid the fire. Defenders emerged from dozens of buildings round Ulric’s Yard, strapping on armour and gawking at the flames in confusion.
Then dozens of men appeared from Starshold, rushing downwards in tight formation. They wielded glaives and wore expensive breastplates, covered by green bear-claw tabards. They appeared well-rested and ready for action, driving their serrated pole-arms into any man they encountered on their way down the Steps.
‘With me,’ shouted Halla, directing men to form up.
A few dozen men answered her command, holding their axes in a protective line. To the right, a cluster of cloud-men and Low Kasters, including Timon the Butcher and Falling Cloud, joined the line and they went to meet the advancing warriors. They were Green Men. Sons, cousins, brothers and retainers of Halfdan Green. A small army, kept loyal through coin and the promise of power in the new Tiergarten. Perhaps two hundred warriors.
‘Shall I kill these men?’ asked Timon, bubbling froth appearing at the corners of his mouth.
‘Yes!’ she replied. ‘They have
betrayed Fjorlan, they are worthy of your axe.’
The Low Kaster bellowed a challenge and bounded up the Steps, barrelling into the first rank of Green Men. Halla and Falling Cloud followed, and a defensive line was formed.
A horn sounded from the walls and she paused.
‘They’re coming again,’ shouted a man from the forward gatehouse as Rulag’s army began its first night-time assault.
‘Fuck!’ exclaimed Halla.
‘I think we’re in trouble,’ offered Falling Cloud.
The Green Men roared with joy, hacking into any man who stood before them on Kalall’s Steps. The defenders were dragged from their stupor only slowly, coming alert in increments as the burning building, attacking men and repeating horn intruded upon their rest. Tricken Ice Fang bellowed commands from Ulric’s Yard, pulling lines, wedges and formations from the tired warriors of Tiergarten.
‘We kill until there is no-one left to kill,’ she roared, throwing herself at the Green Men. She drove up until she stood next to Timon, holding the line against the Green Men.
‘She’s right,’ shouted Falling Cloud. ‘We know how to kill – maybe we know more about it than them.’
She pushed away thoughts of tactics and defeat and focused on her axe and the power in her arms. She leapt upwards, leading a small group of defenders. Behind, the horns didn’t stop and she heard Tricken take charge, directing the warriors of Tiergarten to meet the army of Ursa one more time. Low Kasters and cloud-men flooded across the battlements and Greta’s ballistae crews loaded as fast as they could, but the remaining warriors of Ursa had stolen a march on them. With the Green Men consuming defenders, Halla simply didn’t have enough warriors to hold the walls.
Distantly, Tricken’s orders reached her ears and she knew the army was approaching the walls. She heard the hasty release of a dozen ballistae and the rallying cries of a hundred defenders of Tiergarten. They were being attacked on two flanks, just at the point where tiredness and attritional losses robbed them of their edge.
‘Halla, they’re committing everyone,’ shouted Tricken. ‘I can see Rulag. This is it!’
She gasped as a rolling bank of icy air swept down the steps. The Green Men didn’t falter and appeared oblivious to the frozen air about to envelop them. Halla saw figures in the churning ice, each one taller and wider than any normal man. They held war-hammers and strode down Kalall’s Steps two at a time, emerging like a wall of divine power. As the snowy air covered Ulric’s Yard, she shielded her eyes, trying to see the figures through the glare. They appeared to be priests of the Order of the Hammer, clad in old armour of bronze and cold iron, with ornate, but tarnished, heraldry across breastplates and greaves. The crying dragon of Teardrop, the howling wolf of Summer Wolf, the sparkling emerald of the Green-Eyed Lords, even the black claw of Old Gar.
The Green Men turned in horror, barely able to raise their glaives as the spectral priests approached. But, when Halla’s eyes became used to the icy glare, she saw that they were not priests, but old men of Fjorlan, cloaked in divine power. Each man carried with him a nimbus of strength from ages past, looming behind him like an extra skin. She recognized Arnulph Grief, an old warrior of Fredericksand, usually to be found in the taverns of Low Edge, leaning on his crutch and complaining at the state of the world. Instead of a crutch, he now wielded a huge war-hammer, edged in deep ice and held in steady hands. Before the old men stood Alahan Teardrop and Old Father Crowe, a tale of anger and struggle writ plain on their faces. Halla didn’t know what the young thain had been through to raise the heart of Fjorlan, but she could no longer look past him or deny his power. He had no priest looming behind him – he didn’t need additional power, she thought. He was exemplar of Rowanoco, and every warrior of Fjorlan who saw him knew it.
The Green Men, mostly now fighting to get away from Alahan and the priests, threw themselves at Halla’s men, fighting furiously in an attempt to link up with Rulag’s main army. Their plan had been sound: surprise the defenders at rest and push to Ulric’s Yard as the main force assaulted the walls. But the exemplar of Rowanoco had other ideas.
Halla’s first opponent was bulky and strong, but his skin was soft and his hands unsure. She parried a downward swipe and killed him with a powerful slice to his throat. A thrown axe cut down a man to her left and the line of defenders struck. Alahan and his company hit the rear of the Green Men with snarled aggression and a deafening crack of ancient ice. War-hammers, used with inhuman skill, battered their way through expensive armour and bone, leaving a decimated line in their wake. The priests shouted, carrying a wave of divine conviction with them, as if Rowanoco himself had entered the field of battle.
‘My land! Our land!’ roared Arnulph Grief.
The Green Men were now caught in a vice, pushed into Halla’s defenders by Alahan and his company. She directed every man who could be spared back to the breach, hearing Tricken’s pleas for additional warriors. She could only guess what was transpiring behind her. The sounds that reached her ears spoke of a fierce battle as Rulag’s men launched their final assault. Tricken was directing men to the gateway, and men on the walls screamed in defiance as the attackers began to mount the breach. But, looking ahead, all she saw were priests of the Order of the Hammer, each one more impressive than the last and each one the match of five men. Despite the strength of his company, Alahan stood out. Whatever else he might be, the young thain was a fighter of considerable skill and was himself the equal of three or four Green Men.
‘Halla, we need to get back to the walls,’ barked Falling Cloud, using his speed and skill to duel two heavily armoured men. ‘They’ll break through.’
Halfdan Green’s small army began to melt in front of them in a haze of blood and metal. War-hammers did not cut or slice flesh; they crushed bone and smashed armour. Broken bodies toppled down the Steps, with limbs crushed and heads no more than a mess of blood.
Timon, almost as ferocious as the priests, began to grin broadly as he reached Alahan, cleaving two men out of the way to meet his friend. The remaining Green Men broke, but with nowhere to run they died quickly by the axes of Halla’s defenders or the hammers of Alahan’s company.
‘Halla,’ said the young thain. ‘I hope we’re not too late.’
‘We are pledged to the city,’ offered Arnulph Grief, speaking as a rumble of falling rock and cracking ice. ‘This is Rowanoco’s land and we will see it free.’ It was impossible to know where the old man ended and the priest began, and Halla felt as though both men were speaking at once.
The last of the Green Men were killed and Falling Cloud joined them. ‘The walls,’ he said, averting his eyes from the spectral priests.
Behind, in the midst of dust, swearing and howls of pain, the walls of Tiergarten had been overrun. Rulag’s army held large sections of the wall and were slowly driving into the gatehouse. They’d seized the ballistae and were cutting defenders from the battlements as they advanced. Tricken, along with Rorg and his Low Kasters, were now at the front, defending Ulric’s Yard and stopping the attackers from gaining victory.
She wiped blood from her face and looked at Alahan. Behind him, Arnulph Grief and two hundred old men carried immense strength. Was it enough? She looked into Alahan’s eyes, searching for confidence that she was lacking. Deep within the glinting blue she saw Rowanoco. The Ice Giant raged within his exemplar. He raged within his Order of the Hammer. He raged that his land teetered on the edge, and he raged with honour, strength and freedom.
‘Will you follow me?’ asked Alahan.
The old men advanced, their priestly passengers swelling into a line of swirling ice and wind. Broken and maimed limbs had been repaired; bent and infirm old men now stood straight and true, looking down Kalall’s Steps towards the gates of Tiergarten. None appeared wounded from their fight with the Green Men. Perhaps they would be enough. She had no choice but to trust in Rowanoco’s exemplar.
‘No,’ she replied. ‘But I will fight at your side.’
‘
Good enough,’ he said. ‘Let us go and kill Rulag Ursa.’
Side by side, they strode down the Steps towards Ulric’s Yard. Falling Cloud cleaned his axes, Timon whipped himself into a battle rage, and the two hundred priests – Rowanoco’s company – muttered prayers of anger and commitment. Brindon Crowe stayed at the back, surveying the dense melee of men they needed to clear.
As the nimbus of divine power swept down the Steps, a lull in combat flowed across the fighters and an odd silence descended. They saw who marched on them and intuitively felt the wrath of their god. The defenders were glad of it, the attackers terrified by it, but all paused in mid-strike to gawk at the two hundred priests of the Order of the Hammer. The pause gave Tricken a chance to pull his men back to a defensive line, forming a semi-circle round Ulric’s Yard. The Low Kasters were slower to move and stayed on the flank, the madness of frenzy numbing their minds to the spectral priests.
Even at the head of Rowanoco’s company, Halla gasped at the state of the walls. The battlements and gatehouse were lost and Rulag’s army flowed into Tiergarten like ants over a forest floor.
‘The ice halls beckon,’ roared Falling Cloud, breaking the silence and banging his axes together. ‘Oleff will have the drinks ready. But let’s kill some cunts first!’
‘Charge!’ commanded Halla, leaping down Kalall’s Steps.
Alahan and Timon ran on either side of her, with Rowanoco’s company behind. Thousands of men fought in Ulric’s Yard, but it was a group of two hundred who drew all eyes. Tricken’s men parted, giving them room to charge. Halla saw shields raised and a hasty line formed by the attackers, but they were hesitant and allowed a thunderous attack to cleave through their first rank. She was distantly aware that her axe met resistance and that blood sprayed across her arms, but she was caught up in the intense charge and was barely able to breathe out. She heard Rowanoco’s company smash into terrified men of Jarvik, and she heard Tricken order men to the flanks, but everything else was distilled to a five-foot circle round her.
