A Darkness at Sethanon (44 page)

Arrows came
flying past Guy and Arutha, and the Protector said, “Their
archers are in place. Sound retreat!”

A trumpet blast
sounded from the squad of bowmen who were positioned halfway up the
street, and the men with mallets struck the barrels, knocking small
stoppers from bungs. Quickly the smell of oil mixed with the rusty
odour of blood hanging in the air as the oil began slowly to leak
out. The mallet-wielding soldiers at once began to race up the
streets, where barrels waited at every corner.

Guy tugged at
Arutha’s sleeve. “To the citadel. We begin the next
phase.”

Arutha followed
after Guy as the bloody house to house fighting began.

For two hours
the terrible struggle continued, while Guy and Arutha watched from
the first command post atop the wall of the citadel. In the city the
shouts of fighting men could be heard, and the curses and screams
continued unabated. At every turn in the city a company of archers
waited, so that each block gained by the invaders was over the bodies
of their comrades. Murmandamus would take the outer city, but he
would pay a terrible price for it. Arutha revised his estimate of
Murmandamus’s casualties upward to three or four thousand
soldiers to reach the inner bailey and the moat about the citadel.
And he would still have to deal with the inner fortifications of
Armengar.

Arutha watched
in fascination. It was beginning to become difficult to see clearly,
as the sun had fallen behind the mountains and the city was in
shadow. Night was only an hour or so away; still, he could make out
most of what occurred. The unarmoured, nimble archers were moving
from rooftop to rooftop, by means of long planks which they pulled
after themselves. A few goblins attempted to climb the outside of
buildings but were shot down by bow fire from other buildings. Guy
studied the continuing battle with a keen eye. Arutha said, “This
city was built for this sort of battle.”

Guy nodded. “Had
I to design one to bleed an opposing army, I couldn’t have done
better.” He looked hard at Arutha. “Armengar will fall,
unless aid arrives within the next few hours. We have untir tomorrow
morning at the longest. But we’ll cut the bastard; we’ll
hurt him badly. When he marches against Tyr-Sog, he’ll have
lost a third of his army.”

Arutha said, “A
third? I would have said a tenth.”

With a grin
devoid of humour, Guy said, “Watch and you’ll see.”
The Protector of Armengar shouted to a signal man, “How much
longer?”

The man waved a
white and blue cloth toward the top of the citadel. Arutha looked up
and saw an answering wave with a pair of yellow cloths. The soldier
said, “No more than ten minutes, Protector.”

Guy thought,
then said, “Launch another catapult strike at the outer
bailey.” Orders were given and a shower of heavy stones was
launched at the far end of the city. Softly, almost to himself, he
said, “Let them think we’ve overextended our range, and
maybe they’ll hurry to get inside.”

Time passed
slowly, and Arutha watched as the archers retreated from roof to
roof. As day faded to twilight, a company of ambushers was dashing
along the street, heading for the drawbridge and outer gate of the
citadel’s barbican. As the first company made for the lowered
bridge, another, then a third company came into view. Guy watched as
the gate commander ordered it retracted. The last soldier had just
set foot upon it as it began to move across the moat. From the
rooftops of the city more Armengarian archers fired down upon the
invaders.

Arutha said,
“They are brave, to stay behind.”

Guy said,
“Brave, yes, but they’re not planning to die.” Even
as he spoke the archers on the rooftops were reaching the last line
of houses. They lowered ropes to the street level and quickly slid
down. They ran toward the citadel, tossing aside weapons as they ran.
From behind, attackers swarmed after them. As the attackers were
halfway across the open area used as a market, bowmen upon the wall
of the citadel launched a flight of arrows. The Armengarians who were
fleeing ran to the edge of the moat and dove in.

Arutha said,
“They’ll be shot down if they try to climb the wall.”
Then he saw they didn’t surface.

Guy smiled.
“There are underwater tunnels into the gatehouse and other
rooms contained in the wall. Our boys and girls will come up, then
the entrances will be sealed.” A particular bold group of
goblins came running after and leaped into the water. “Even if
those scum find the tunnels, they’ll not be able to open the
trapdoors. They’d better be part fish.”

Amos came from
within the citadel. “We’ve everything ready.”

“Good,”
answered Guy, regarding the top of the citadel where Armand observed
the fighting in the city.

A yellow banner
was waved. “Ready catapults!” shouted Guy. For a long
time nothing happened; at last Guy said, “What is de Sevigny
waiting for?”

Amos laughed.
“He’s watching Murmandamus leading his army through the
gates, if we’re lucky, or at least waiting for another thousand
or so to come inside.”

Arutha was
studying the nearest catapult, a giant mangonel, now loaded with a
strange-looking assortment of barrels lashed loosely together. The
barrels were similar to the small brandy casks used in inns and
alehouses, holding no more than a gallon. Each bundle was composed of
twenty or thirty such casks.

Amos said, “The
signal!”

Arutha watched
as a red banner was waved and Guy shouted, “Catapults! Fire!”
Along the wall a dozen of the giant catapults heaved their cargo of
barrels which arched high over the roofs of the city. As they
travelled, the casks spread out, so that they struck the outer bailey
in a shower of wood. The crew reloaded with a speed Arutha found
astonishing for in less than a minute another launch was ordered and
another flight of casks was sent. While a third flight of casks was
prepared, Arutha noticed smoke coming from one quarter of the city.

Amos saw it,
too, and said, “The little darlings are doing some of our work
for us. They must have started a tidy fire to punish us for not
staying around to die. It must be something of a shock to be standing
next to it when it starts raining naphtha.”

Arutha
understood. As he watched, the smoke increased rapidly and began
spreading along a line indicating that the entire outer bailey area
was catching. “Those barrels at every corner?”

Amos nodded.
“Fifty gallons in each. The first block we broke the barrels,
so it’s all over the ground from the buildings to the wall. A
lot of those murderers have been traipsing about in it and will
likely find their feet and legs are covered. We have barrels in every
building and one on every roof. At the time the horses were taken out
of the city, during the second phase of evacuation, we also halted
controlling the flow of oil upward. Every basement in the city is now
ready to explode. The city’s going to provide a warm reception
for Murmandamus.”

Guy signalled
and the third flight of casks was sent. But the centre pair of
catapults heaved stones wrapped in burning oil-soaked rags, which
coursed across the sky in a fiery arc. Suddenly an entire area near
the barbican in the outer wall exploded with bright light. A tower of
flames rose upward, climbing higher and higher. Arutha watched. A
moment later he heard a dull thump, followed quickly by a hot breeze.
The flames kept rising and for the longest time seemed likely never
to stop. Then they began to subside, but a tower of black smoke
continued to rise, flattening out in an umbrella over the city,
reflecting the orange glow of the inferno below. “The barbican
is gone,” said Amos. “We stored a few hundred barrels
under the gate complex, with vents to let the flame in. They go with
a bang. If we were half the distance closer to the wall, our ears
would be ringing.”

Shouts and
curses sounded from the city, as the flames began to spread. The
catapults continued to launch their explosive cargo into the flames.
“Shorten the range,” Guy ordered.

Amos said,
“We’ll drive them toward the citadel, so our bowmen can
have some target practice with those that don’t get roasted.”

Arutha observed
the intensifying light. Another explosion came, followed quickly by
another series, each echoed by a dull thud a moment later. Hot winds
blew toward the citadel as spiralling towers of flames began to dance
in the outer city. Again more explosions came, and from the dazzling
display, it was evident a great store of the barrels had been left in
strategic locations. Pounding at the ears, the dull rumbles of
explosion after explosion indicated that flaming death marched
rapidly from the outer bailey toward the citadel. Soon Arutha could
tell the difference between a bunch of barrels igniting and a cellar
explosion simply by the sound. It was, as Guy had said, a warm
reception for Murmandamus.

“Signal,”
said a soldier, and Guy looked up. Two red banners were being waved,
now clearly seen in the blaze from the city despite the sun’s
having set.

“Armand’s
signalling that the entire outer city is in flames,” said Amos
to Arutha. “Impassable. Even those Black Slayers will be
crisped if they’re caught inside.” He grinned evilly as
he stroked his chin. “I just hope the grand high bilge-sucker
himself was in a hurry to enter at the head of his army.”

From the city
came shouts of terror and anger and the sound of running feet. The
flames were marching in a steady course toward the inner bailey,
their progress marked by dull explosions every few minutes as barrels
at each corner ignited. The heat could now be felt, even upon the
wall of the citadel. Arutha said, “This fire storm will suck
the air right out of their lungs.”

Amos nodded. “We
hope so.”

Guy looked down
a minute, revealing the depth of his fatigue. “Armand designed
this final plan. He’s a bloody genius, maybe the best field
commander I’ve ever had. He was to wait until it appeared as
many had entered as possible. We’re going to have to attempt an
escape through the mountains, so we must hurt them as much as we
can.”

But Arutha saw,
behind his matter-of-fact words, the defeated look of a commander
whose position is about to be lost. Arutha said, “You’ve
conducted a masterful defence.”

Guy only nodded,
and both Arutha and Amos knew he was silently saying,
It wasn’t
enough.

Now the first of
the fleeing invaders came running toward the citadel, halting when
they realized they were exposed to the view of those upon the wall.
They crouched in the lee of the last building, as if waiting for some
miracle to deliver them. The number of Murmandamus’s soldiers
fleeing the flames increased as the fire continued its advance
through the city. The catapults continued to feed the casks of
naphtha to the fire, shortening their range every second launch so as
to bring the flames closer and closer to the inner bailey. Now those
upon the wall of the citadel could see flames exploding upon the
rooftops only a half-dozen houses away from the market, then five
houses, then four. Shouting moredhel, goblins, and humans, with a
scattering of trolls and giants, began to fight among themselves, for
as the press of those fleeing the impossible heat continued, more
were being pushed into the open. Guy said to Amos, “Order the
archers to open fire.”

Amos shouted the
command, and Armengarian archers began to fire. Arutha watched in
stunned amazement. “This isn’t warfare,” he said
softly. “It’s slaughter.” The invaders were so
crowded together at the edge of the market that any arrow that
reached them struck someone. They were falling over the dead as they
were continuously pushed from behind. More casks of oil were thrown
and the flames continued their inexorable march toward the citadel.

Arutha held up
his hand, for the light of the conflagration was now near-blinding to
look at and the heat was becoming uncomfortable. He realized how
devastating it must be for those creatures at the edge of the market
who were standing a hundred yards closer.

Then more
barrels exploded, and with shrieks and cries there was a general
break for the citadel. Many of those who raced across the bailey were
shot down, but some number of them dove in the moat. Those wearing
chain mail sank as they vainly tried to remove the armour underwater,
and even some in leather sank. But many cleared the surface, paddling
about like dogs.

Arutha judged a
full two thousand lay dead in clear view. Another four or five
thousand must have perished in the city. The Armengarian bowmen were
beginning to tire so much they could hardly hit the targets clearly
outlined against the flames.

Guy said, “Open
the pipes.”

An odd wheezing
noise was heard as oil was discharged across the water in the moat.
Cries of terror filled the air as those in the water came to
understand what was occurring. As flames spread out across the bailey
from the now completely burned out city, flaming bales were pushed
over the walls, to fall to the moat. The surface of the water
exploded in blue-white flames, which danced across the churning
surface. Quickly the shrieks diminished, until at last it was over.

Arutha and the
others were forced to pull back from the wall as waves of heat rose
from the moat. When the flames burned out, he glanced down and saw
black husks floating in the moat. He felt ill and saw his feelings
were reflected in Guy’s expression. Amos only looked on grimly.
While the city burned out of control, Guy said, “I feel the
need of a drink. Come along. We only have a few more hours.”

Without words,
Amos and Arutha followed the Protector of a dying city toward the
inner building of the citadel.

Guy drained his
flagon, then pointed to the map on the table. Arutha looked on beside
a soot-stained Briana, who, along with the other commanders, was
awaiting Guy’s final orders. Jimmy and Locklear had come from
their last duty station and were standing at Arutha’s side.
Even inside the council chamber they could feel the heat from the
continuing fire as the catapults poured more naphtha into the blaze.
Whatever part of Murmandamus’s army that had escaped the trap
was being forced to wait outside the outer wall by an inferno.