A Darkness at Sethanon (43 page)

Then the sound
of boots pounding over the rocks could be heard from both directions.
The moredhel shouted again and was answered from Martin’s left,
to the south. From the right the sound of armour and boots grew
louder. The moredhel’s eyes flickered in that direction, and
Martin launched his attack. The dark elf barely avoided the blow,
getting a slight cut in the arm for his troubles. Martin pushed his
slight advantage, and while the moredhel was off balance, he struck
out with a risky thrust that left him open for a riposte if he
missed. He didn’t. The moredhel stiffened and collapsed as
Martin pulled his blade free.

Martin didn’t
hesitate. He leaped for the rocks, seeking high ground before he was
overrun from both sides. Moredhel warriors came rushing into view
from the southern end of the wash, and one had his sword back, to
slash at Martin.

Martin kicked
out unexpectedly and the warrior ducked, causing him to mistime his
blow. Then, equally unexpectedly, a hand reached down and gripped
Martin’s tunic.

A powerful pair
of arms lifted the Duke of Crydee and dragged him over the lip of the
wash. Martin looked up to discover a grinning face, with a thick red
beard regarding him. “Sorry for the rough handling, but things
are about to get nasty down there.”

The dwarf
pointed past Martin, who turned to see a dozen dwarves dashing down
the ravine from the north. The moredhel saw the superior number of
dwarven warriors and turned to flee, but the dwarves were upon them
before they moved ten yards. The fight was quickly over.

Another dwarf
joined the one at Martin’s side. The first handed Martin a
waterskin. Martin stood and took a drink. He looked down at the pair
of dwarves, their being barely five feet, and said, “Thanks to
you.”

“No
bother. The Dark Brothers have been poking about here of late, so we
keep this area heavily patrolled. As we have guests” - he
indicated some dwarves who were climbing up to join them - “we
have no shortage of lads willing to go out and have a bash at them.
Usually the cowards run, knowing they’re too close to our home,
but this time they were a mite slow. Now, if you don’t mind me
asking, who might you be and what are you doing at Stone Mountain?”

Martin said,
“This is Stone Mountain?”

The dwarf
pointed behind Martin and the Duke turned about. Behind him, above
the edge of the wash he had crouched in, a stand of trees reared up.
Following the woods, he saw they blanketed the sides of a great peak
that rose high into the clouds. He had been so intent on the pursuit
of the last day, so intent on hiding, that he had seen only the rocks
and the gullies. Now he recognized the peak, He was standing with a
half day’s walk of Stone Mountain.

Martin regarded
the assembling dwarves. He removed his right glove and displayed his
signet. “I am Martin, Duke of Crydee. I need to speak with
Dolgan.”

The dwarves
looked sceptical, as if it was improbable for a lord of the Kingdom
to come in this fashion to their halls, but they simply looked to
their leader. “I’m Paxton. My father is Harthorn,
Warleader of the Stone Mountain clans, and Chieftain of village
Delmoria. Come along, Lord Martin, we’ll take you to see the
King.”

Martin laughed.
“So he did take the crown.”

Paxton grinned.
“In a manner of speaking. He said he’d take the job of
King, after we nagged at him a couple of years, but he won’t
wear a crown. So it sits in a chest in the long hall. Come along,
Your Grace. We can be there by nightfall.”

The dwarves set
off, and Martin fell in beside them. He felt safe for the first time
in weeks, but now his mind returned to thoughts of his brother and
the others at Armengar. How long could they hold? he wondered.

The camp
reverberated with a cacophony of drums, trumpets and shouts. From
every quarter came the response to the order to marshal. Guy watched
the display as the false dawn gave way to the light of morning. He
said to Arutha, “Before the globe of the sun is at noon,
they’ll hit us with everything they have. Murmandamus may have
felt the need to hold back some forces against the invasion of Yabon,
but he can’t afford even another day’s delay. Today they
will come in strength.”

Arutha nodded as
he watched every company on the field before the city marshal for
battle. He had never felt so bone tired. The killing of Murmandamus’s
captains had thrown the enemy camp into turmoil for two days before
order had been restored. Arutha had no idea what bargains had been
struck or what promises made, but finally they had come again, three
days later.

For a week
after, the assaults had continued, and each time more attackers had
gained the walls. The last assault of the day before had required the
entire force of reserves being thrown into a potential breach to keep
the integrity of the wall intact. Another few minutes, and the
attackers would have had a position upon the walls to hold, so that
more warriors could have scaled ladders in safety, unleashing a
potential fatal flood of invaders into the city. Arutha thought, it
has been twenty-seven days since Martin had left. Even if help was
coming, it would be too late.

Jimmy and
Locklear waited close by, ready for messenger duty. Jimmy regarded
his young friend. Since Bronwynn’s death Locklear had become
possessed. He sought out the fighting at every turn, often ignoring
instructions to stay behind for courier duty. Three times Jimmy had
seen the boy involve himself in combat where he should have avoided
it. His skills with the sword and his speed had counted for much, and
he had survived, but Jimmy wasn’t sure how long Locklear could
keep surviving, or even if he really wished to. He had tried to speak
to Locklear about the girl, but the younger squire had refused. Jimmy
had seen too much death and destruction by the time he had reached
sixteen. He had grown callous in many ways. Even when he thought
Anita or Arutha dead, he had not withdrawn the way Locklear had.
Jimmy wished he understood more of such things, and worried for his
friend.

Guy gauged the
strength of the army before him and at last, in a quiet voice, said,
“We can’t hold them at the wall.”

Arutha said, “I
thought as much.” In the four weeks since Martin’s
departure, the city had held, the soldiers of Armengar performing
beyond even Arutha’s most optimistic assessment. They had given
all they had, but attrition was at last sapping the army’s
reserve. Another thousand soldiers had been killed or rendered unable
to fight in the last week. Now the defenders were spread out too
thinly to deal with the full force of the attackers, and it was clear
from the careful way Murmandamus was staging that he indeed planned
to throw the full strength of his army at them today in one final,
all-out assault. Guy nodded to Amos. The seaman said to Jimmy, “Carry
word to the company commanders: begin the third stage of evacuation
now.”

Jimmy nudged
Locklear, who seemed almost in a trance, and led his friend off. They
ran along the wall, seeking out the company commanders. Arutha
watched as a few chosen soldiers left the wall once word was passed.
They hurried down the steps to the bailey and began to sprint toward
the citadel.

Arutha said,
“What mix did you decide upon?”

Guy said, “One
able-bodied fighter, two armed old men or women, three older
children, also armed, and five little ones.” Arutha knew that
within minutes dozens of such groups would begin slipping out into
the mountains through the long tunnel from the cavern beneath the
city. They were to work southward, seeking refuge in Yabon. It was
hoped that this way at least some of the children of Armengar might
survive. The single soldier would be in command of the party and each
would carry orders to protect the children. And the soldiers also had
orders to kill them rather than let them be captured by the moredhel.

Slowly the sun
rose, moving at a steady pace, unconcerned with the conflict below.
When it reached the noon position, still no signal was forthcoming.
Guy wondered aloud, “Why do they wait?”

Nearly a full
two hours later, a faint thudding sound carried over the quiet army
on the plain, to be barely heard by the defenders. It continued for
almost a full half hour, then trumpets sounded along the line of
attackers. Then from behind the lines odd figures loomed up against
the bright blue sky. They appeared giant black spiders, or something
akin. They began moving through the host, slowly, stately. Finally,
they cleared the line of attackers, and approached the city. As they
came closer, Arutha studied them. Questioning shouts came from along
the wall, and Guy said, “Gods, what are they?”

“Some
manner of engine,” replied Arutha. “Moving siege towers.”
They appeared to be gigantic boxes, three or four times the size of
the ones raised against the wall the previous week. They rolled on
huge wheels, without any apparent motive source, for no giant, slave,
or beast of burden pulled or pushed them. They moved under their own
power, by some magic means. Their immense wheels thudded loudly when
rolling over irregularities in the terrain.

“Catapults!”
shouted Guy, and his hand dropped. Stones hurled overhead, and
crashed against the boxes. One was struck in a support, which
shattered, causing the thing to teeter, and fall, striking the earth
with a resounding crash. At least a hundred dead goblins, moredhel,
and humans were thrown clear of the crash.

Arutha said,
“Each one of those things must hold two, three hundred
soldiers.”

Guy counted
quickly. “There are nineteen more coming. If one in three gains
the walls, that’s fifteen hundred attackers on the wall at
once. Oil and fire arrows!” he shouted.

The defenders
sought to ignite the approaching boxes as they lumbered toward the
wall, but something had been applied to the wood, and while the oil
burned upon a few of the things, it only scorched and blackened the
wood. Screams from within told of some damage done to the attackers
by the flames, but the boxes were not halted.

“All
reserves to the wall! Archers to the roofs beyond the bailey! Horse
companies to their stations!”

Guy’s
orders were quickly carried out as the defenders awaited the
approaching boxes. The magic siege towers filled the morning air with
a loud grinding sound as the heavy wheels turned ponderously. The
host of Murmandamus’s army walked slowly behind the moving
towers, keeping a discreet distance, for all defensive fire was
directed at the rolling boxes.

Then the first
of the boxes reached the wall. The side of the box facing the wall
fell forward, as had happened with the smaller ones, and dozens of
goblins and moredhel came leaping forward to engage the defenders.
Soon there was frenzied combat along every foot of the wall. The
attackers came flooding across the plain, behind their magic siege
towers. The rear of the box opened as well, with long rope ladders
being tossed out, and attackers in the field behind ran forward to
clamber up the suddenly accessible entrances to the city. Long
leather aprons were lowered from the centre of the boxes, only a foot
in front of the ladders, confounding the bow fire directed at those
climbing into the boxes. The catapult commanders continued to fire,
and many of Murmandamus’s soldiers died beneath the rocks, but
with the archers ordered to the first row of houses and the other
defenders engaged with the attackers from the towers there was no bow
fire to harass the host below as they raised scaling ladders against
the walls.

Arutha engaged a
moredhel who had leaped over the body of a fallen Armengarian
soldier, and slashed out, causing the dark elf to stumble backward.
The moredhel fell off the parapet to the stones below.

The Prince spun
about and saw Guy kill another. The Protector looked about and
shouted, “We can’t hold them here! Pass the word to fall
back to the citadel!”

Word was passed
and suddenly defenders were scrambling away from those gaining the
wall from outside. A select company of soldiers held each stairway
while their companions fled toward the city. They were all volunteers
and all were prepared to die.

Arutha ran
across the bailey and saw the last of the defenders on the wall
overwhelmed. As he reached the midway point across the large open
area, attackers leaped from the stairs and headed for the gate.
Suddenly a rain of arrows came from the roofs of the buildings
opposite the gate and to the last the attackers died. Then Guy was at
Arutha’s side, with Amos running past.

“We can
hold them off the gatehouse until they establish their own bowmen on
the wall. Then our men will have to pull back.” Arutha looked
up and saw that planks were being extended across the streets from
the roofs of the buildings facing the bailey. When the archers quit
the first line of buildings, they would pull the planks after them.
The goblin host would have to use rams to break in doors, climb the
stairs, and then engage the bowmen in a duel. By then the bowmen
would have retreated to another line of houses. They would constantly
fire down into the streets, forcing the invaders to pay for every
foot gained. Over the last month, hundreds of quivers of arrows had
been left under oilcloth upon those rooftops, along with replacement
strings and additional bows. By Arutha’s best judgment, it
would cost Murmandamus no fewer than an additional two thousand
casualties to travel from the first bailey to the second.

Running toward
the bailey came a squad of men with large wooden mallets. They waited
before heavy barrels placed at the corners, listening for the
command. For a moment it appeared they would be overwhelmed, for a
sea of goblins and their allies came swarming off the walls. Then a
company of horsemen swept out of a side street, rolling back the
invaders.