“The enemy is before us.” Karus waved toward the assault. “They are concentrated in one confined area and likely won’t be again.” He pointed down at the lines of orcs waiting to go up the ladders. “Not like this. A real assault against this wall will see them spread out along its entire length, thereby thinning our numbers. That will increase their chances of gaining a foothold and make it more difficult for us to hold them back. When the enemy get serious, they will also bring up infantry with bows and slings, maybe even some light artillery, bolt throwers and such, if they have them.” Karus paused, his gaze sweeping the enemy. He felt his anger begin to mount. “This attack upon your position cannot go on for much longer. Do you disagree?”
“No, sir,” Varno said, “I do not.”
“I intend to use it as an opportunity to kill as many as I can, while I can. That will mean the less we face later, and we will educate our enemy on how dangerous we can be. Understand me on this matter?”
“Yes, sir,” Varno said. “I do.”
“Good,” Karus said. “Then kindly see that your brother brings up his cohort.”
“I will, sir.” Varno saluted and moved off to give the appropriate orders to one of his legionaries, who dashed toward the nearest stairs. The centurion returned a few moments later. “If you will excuse me, sir. I’d like to return to the fight and my men.”
Karus gave the man a curt nod of approval and Varno left. Kol’Cara moved closer to Karus. For a time, neither said anything. They just watched as the legion murdered the enemy.
“You’re concerned about the nature of this assault,” Kol’Cara said. It was not a question.
“I always worry when it comes to a fight.”
“But this is different, no?” Kol’Cara asked.
Karus waved a hand at the enemy. “This attack, and the other one against the north wall, makes no tactical sense. For all intents and purposes, the enemy is allowing me the opportunity to slaughter their warriors.”
“Yes,” Kol’Cara said, “they seem to be doing just that.”
“It is a waste of good infantry.”
“But you are killing them,” Kol’Cara said. “Is not that what soldiers are supposed to do? Kill the enemy, preferably before they kill you?”
“Don’t get me wrong,” Karus said. “I will happily murder them in a one-sided fight all day long. But I still disapprove of my opponent’s methods. There is nothing baser in my opinion than to waste good soldiers for no reason. A sacred trust exists between leadership and the rank and file. A commander should never, under any circumstances, ever violate that trust.”
Kol’Cara turned his timeless gaze on Karus, who was suddenly struck by how alien the elf’s eyes were. He at times forgot that the elf was not human. It was yet another reminder of the strange land the legion had been brought to. Life had taken a fantastical turn. Karus understood it would never be the same for him and his people. What they had once considered normal was now forever lost to them.
“It is important to remember,” Kol’Cara said, “there is a reason for every decision. We just do not know what their reasoning is, or we are not seeing it ….think perspective.”
“Perspective?” Karus asked.
“Yes,” Kol’Cara said. “It is all about one’s perspective. The enemy general’s view of the situation is different than our own.”
“True,” Karus said, thinking the elf very correct. “We’re just not seeing it …”
Kol’Cara inclined his head slightly, then raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps they seek only to distract.”
“That’s what I am afraid of.” Karus looked over at the elf. “But from what?”
“I do not know,” Kol’Cara admitted. “Have you considered there might be additional tunnels into the city? And that the enemy knows about them?”
“We have,” Karus said. “It’s why there are roving patrols out, moving throughout the city, randomly checking buildings.” Karus expelled a heated breath. “As soon as I saw the attack against the north wall this morning, and the lack of effort on the enemy’s part, I doubled the patrols. The problem is … Carthum is a big damn city. It is easy to miss something.” Karus smacked the stone of the battlement lightly with his palm. “You could hide a cohort in some of the larger buildings and no one would ever know, unless they went inside and searched.”
“You brought the tunnel down under the tavern?” Kol’Cara asked.
“We did,” Karus said. “I personally checked the work. It won’t be easily opened either. Even if they manage to discover a tunnel we don’t know about, they still will have to contend with our defensive positions throughout the city. They’re not going to get far before bumping into someone, and then the alarm will be sounded.”
“That is a comfort,” Kol’Cara said. “Let us hope they are ignorant that such tunnels might exist.”
“They’d have to find one first,” Karus said, thinking of the small group of orcs they had caught weeks ago in the city. Before their deaths, those had scaled the city wall. Had they known of a tunnel they would have surely used it to avoid detection.
Behind them, men from the CR began to pound their way up the stairs and past. Each man carried five javelins. With officers shouting, the CR moved out behind the men of Seventh Cohort, who were fighting back against the enemy’s attempt to scale and overcome the wall.
“Sir.” Gordian Varno, prefect of the CR, gave Karus a salute as he came up. Gordian was five years older than his brother. He was a tall man, fit, and hard-looking, with a square jaw and piercing blue eyes. Though you could not tell due to his helmet, he was almost completely bald and looked nothing like his brother.
Despite being assigned to leading auxiliaries, he wore legionary armor. Prior to taking command of the CR, he had been a centurion in Second Legion.
“Gord,” Karus said, “good to see you.”
“You too, sir.” Gordian went to the wall and looked over at the enemy making their assault. He studied them for a long moment and gave a low whistle before his gaze traveled to the legionaries holding the wall. “A nice day for a fight, sir, good and hot for the enemy.”
“See if you can make it hotter for them,” Karus said, “will you?”
“We’ll make it scalding, sir,” the prefect said, with a grim smile.
“That’s what I am counting on.” Karus genuinely liked Gord. He was a professional soldier, through and through. “As soon as your boys are in position, you can start tossing javelins at will. Before they call off the assault, I want to kill or injure as many of the bastards as we can.”
“Very good, sir. I will get right to work.” With that, the prefect moved off, shouting to his men, who were still pounding their way up the stairs. “Move your collective asses, you maggots. Officers, I want your men in position yesterday. Come on … move it, boys. The enemy’s waiting on us.”
Karus watched as Gord got his men slotted into position, junior officers working to dress the men, one next to another. The space on the wall was large enough for them to group up in ranks to the flanks of the main fighting for a concerted toss. Gord also positioned a thin line of men directly behind those holding the wall. The extra javelins were set to the right of each auxiliary, at their feet, with the iron heads of the weapons pointed toward the enemy.
“Prepare to toss!” Gord shouted at the top of his lungs. His men to the sides stepped up closer to the wall. Those behind the fighting prepared to throw over the heads of the men to their front by taking a step backward and hefting the heavy missiles. “Make it a good throw, boys. Let’s show the legionaries how javelin work’s properly done. I expect you to make Daddy proud.” Gord paused for several heartbeats. “Release!”
An iron-tipped wave, carrying with it injury and death, arced up into the air. All told, over three hundred of the deadly missiles were thrown at the enemy. There was a loud clatter as the weighted javelins hammered home, punching through armor, skin, muscle, and bone.
A shocking number of screams followed
, a testament to the effectiveness of the toss. Dozens on the ground had been hit. The men of the CR had been good soldiers before Gord had taken command. After, they had become even better. His men loved him, and had nicknamed him Daddy, because he went out of his way to look after them. But that did not mean he coddled them. Gord was a harsh disciplinarian, but also fair in the meting out of justice. The men respected that, for not all officers were as evenhanded.
“Second toss,” Gord roared. “Ready yourselves. Let’s go, boys … be quick about it.”
The men picked up the next javelin and prepared for the toss.
Gord took a long moment to look to the left and then the right, studying his men. Apparently satisfied that all was ready, he shouted, “Release.”
A second wave of javelins flew up before plunging inevitably downward. There was an ear-ringing clatter, followed by screams, shouts, and cries of agony. The intensity of the fighting on the wall slackened noticeably. The defenders were able to easily shove several ladders back and off the wall. More ladders followed a heartbeat later, crashing to the ground.
“Smartly done, boys,” Gord shouted. “Ready yourselves for another toss. Let’s show them some more love, shall we?”
The prefect waited, almost patiently, till his boys were prepared. Only someone like Karus, who knew Gord well enough, could spot the signs of excitement, barely contained nervous energy, and impatience, as the prefect stepped up to the edge of the wall and peered over the side. The big man hesitated a moment as he surveyed his cohort’s handiwork. Gord grinned broadly, then shouted, “You beautiful bastards! Give ’em another … Release.”
The third wave of death rose up, flying outward, before cresting and crashing home in a devastating volley. Much of the enemy’s effort had ground to a halt. After this last toss, it all but stopped. The enemy at the base of the ladders appeared badly shaken and disorganized. One after another, ladders were shoved off the wall, until only two remained.
An orc at the top of one, to avoid being run through by a short sword, slashed his sword wildly about at the legionaries. For several moments, he managed to keep the swords at bay. However, his efforts were in vain.
Almost simultaneously, several legionaries jabbed at him. As he dodged and blocked, one strike connected, stabbing him through the eye socket. He stiffened and fell, tumbling limply down the ladder, taking the next two orcs with him to the ground. The ladder followed him down a few heartbeats later as the legionaries shoved it off the wall with long poles.
“Excellent toss,” Gord shouted at his men. “A very nice throw, boys. Ready yourselves for the next toss.”
A horn sounded, three long blasts. With it, the orcs began to draw back from the wall. Karus felt a sense of triumph and elation wash over him. The enemy was calling off the assault. At the same time, the keen sense of victory was mixed with frustration. The enemy would soon be out of his reach, and that irritated him immensely. Karus wanted to hurt them some more.
“Should I hit them one more time, sir?” Gord shouted at Karus as the horn call sounded yet again, for he had seen them pulling back too.
“If you would,” Karus called back, “give them a parting gift. Let them know what’s waiting for them when they return.”
“Right, boys, make your final throw count,” Gord shouted and then checked to make sure all were ready. “Release.”
Karus watched the javelins fly outward. They landed amongst the withdrawing orcs. Dozens more of the enemy were hit. What had started as an orderly pullback rapidly became a rout. This last toss had hurt, and badly too. Added to the previous throws, hundreds of the enemy were down, dead, and injured. On the grander scale, when compared to the entirety of the enemy army, it was a minor victory, but he’d take it just the same.
The men gave an enthusiastic cheer.
KARUS.
A scream, like a hammer forging iron, slammed his mind. It was so powerful, he was rocked by it and stumbled backward. He staggered like he was drunk, almost falling to his knees. Kol’Cara grabbed his arm to keep him upright.
“Are you injured?” Kol’Cara asked in alarm. “Have you been hit?”
Karus, the shout came again. This time it was not as powerful, but it was urgent and filled with what he thought was desperation. Or was it fear, mixed with a terrible dread? He recognized it as Cyln’Phax. We must leave.
“What?” Karus asked, still staggered by the intensity of her call. “Leave?”
Almost frantic, Kol’Cara began scanning Karus, checking for wounds. Ignoring the elf’s efforts, Karus looked directly up, for he sensed that was where the call was coming from.
Cyln’Phax emerged from the clouds, her wings tucked back and close to her body. She was pointed straight down at the ground, plummeting earthward like a rock, seeming to dive right at them.
Seeing Karus’s gaze, Kol’Cara looked up and said something in Elven, likely a curse. Several men on the wall spotted her and shouted out a warning. The cheer died out, with nearly every eye looking up.
Recovering himself, Karus shook Kol’Cara off as Cyln’Phax twisted her body around. Just when it seemed like the dragon would hit the wall, crashing into them, she extended her wings and pulled out of her dive. For a long moment, Cyln’Phax seemed to hang right over them, then she flashed by, moving over the city, heading in a westward direction. Her passage created a powerful gust of wind that almost knocked several men from the wall and staggered Karus again.
Noctalum! she shouted at him. There are too many. We must go. I don’t … I don’t know when we will be back … I am sorry … but … you are on your own …
Then she was gone from view and the connection between them was severed. Karus did not know how he knew, he just did. There would be no more speaking with her. A deep, malevolent roar filled the air. It seemed to shake the wall and was so loud, Karus felt it in his chest.
“Oh, shit,” Karus said, eyes going skyward again. With dread, he knew what he would find.
A gray and black dragon, a noctalum, had emerged from the clouds over the city. Clearly in pursuit of the red dragon, the monster was diving in the direction Cyln’Phax had gone.
Two more of the great beasts appeared, diving down on the wyrms out in the field. Both animals had taken to the air and were desperately beating their wings, attempting to flee.
Behind Karus and to the north, there came other somewhat muffled roars from somewhere in the direction of the city and out of sight. Karus wondered how many of the massive dragons were out there. The thought of it made his blood run cold.
The two noctalum to their front were rapidly gaining on the wyrms. Karus watched in awe as one of the dragons caught up with a wyrm. Claws outstretched, it reached out with its forelegs and latched onto one of the smaller dragon’s wings.
Almost with ease, the big dragon tore the wing apart, then released its hold. Screaming in agony, the injured wyrm lost control and crashed into the ground with tremendous force, kicking up an incredible shower of dirt. Karus could feel the impact through his sandals as the wall itself seemed to tremble.
The noctalum banked to the right and began beating at the air with its massive wings as it worked to catch up with its companion, who was chasing the last wyrm in view.
Desperate, the wyrm weaved wildly to the left and then right, attempting to evade the hunter, who was steadily gaining on its prey. It reminded Karus of watching a hawk hunt a pigeon. The wyrm’s attempts at evasion did not work. The noctalum caught it firmly with its claws. As it latched on, the bigger dragon bathed the wyrm in a stream of fire so bright, it was equal to the intensity of a sun.
The wyrm screamed horribly, a piercing sound that grated at the ears. The scream was abruptly cut off and the wyrm fell limp. A mere heartbeat later, the noctalum released the burning wyrm. It too crashed to the ground, landing with a deep thud and throwing up a great geyser of dirt high into the air.
The noctalum let out a truly monstrous roar of what Karus took to be satisfaction. As one, both of
the gray and black dragons swung around toward the city.
“Gods,” Karus breathed. The dragons were coming for the legion. They drew closer, then, almost leisurely, both began pumping their wings, each flap taking them high and higher. He watched as they climbed skyward, swinging away from the city before heading in a westward direction and into the clouds. A moment later, they were gone from view.
Silence followed as every man on the wall stared skyward in shock. The enemy below seemed just as stunned. It was as if even the wind had stilled. There was not a sound, nor a breath on the air.
The silence did not last long. The enemy’s horn blew again. Those below, who had been stunned to immobility by what had happened, continued their flight to safety and out of javelin range.
“Do you think they are coming back?” Karus asked Kol’Cara.
“I don’t know,” the elf said in a quiet voice. “The noctalum on this world have been hunting other dragons since before I went into stasis. It is not known why they do it. I think there is a good chance they will ignore us, as we lesser races are generally beneath their notice.”
“Lesser races?” Karus asked.
“At least … we can hope they do,” Kol’Cara said. “It is not wise to draw their attention, for they are an unforgiving people that even we elves do our best to avoid.”
Karus was heartened by that, but at the same time was deeply concerned for Cyln’Phax, Kordem, and their children. He hoped they got away. A worrying thought struck him. What would happen if the enemy’s wyrms came back first? For surely some of the enemy’s dragons would survive the noctalum’s attack and escape.
“Where is the camp prefect?” a voice called urgently from behind them. “Where is he?”
“Over there,” someone shouted.
Karus turned and saw an out-of-breath messenger approaching. The man’s face was flushed from jogging in the brutal heat. He came to attention, saluted crisply, and passed over his message.
Opening it, Karus read. He closed his eyes in frustration.
“What is it?” Kol’Cara asked.
The First Compact: The Karus Saga (The Karus Saga: Book Book 3) Page 29
