Brave Men Die: Part 2 (9 page)

Looking at her companion, Ara could see that she was getting tired, sweat dribbling down her brow as she maintained the shield and cast offensively when she was able.

All paranoias put to the side, Ara couldn’t hold off any longer and started upping the power of her spells. Her Lava Orbs burst from her hands and sailed over the tops of the infantry and landed amongst the archers. The flames tore the unit apart, some flailing around as they burnt to death, others fleeing. Fists closed, beams of purple energy pounded into the infantry ranks below the walls. Initially they started off the size of her hands, but as Ara got into the rhythm of things the energy expanded in size and the victims grew in number.

Ara could sense Daria shift uncomfortably, her gaze focused on her back as she studied her former student. There was nothing that could be done about it, Ara kept casting and obliterating the enemy as Daria shifted her focus to defending the walls.

The battle raged along the rampart. Ladders bounced onto the tops of the walls, soldiers of the Empire climbed over and attacked. The Kyzantines had breached the defence in multiple locations and the only archers that remained firing were on the tower top. With Kryst before him and a couple of others behind, Pollux took the stairs three at a time to get to the scene of heaviest fighting.

Kryst barrelled into the first Kyzantine, pushing the woman over the wall and onto her waiting companions below. Pollux swung low slicing through a soldier’s legs and the body fell to the ground. The captain continued forward, treading over the fallen and smashed into the next body with the edge of his shield.

Pollux followed, surging through the wake created by the captain and thrust into those bumped aside. His men followed, maintaining the momentum. As they gained inch by inch of the rampart, more and more Murukans climbed the stairs and repelled the attackers.

Pollux fought his way further along the rampart to the edge of the wall, covering the captain. Kryst pushed at a ladder propped against it, straining under the weight of not only the siege ladder itself but of the five soldiers on it. Veins emerged in his straining arms and neck. Pollux turned his back to the captain, defended him from enemy soldiers charging along the wall. He blocked a thrust to his abdomen, turning the blade away before slicing through the man’s neck. A gargled scream rang out behind him as Pollux blocked a second strike on his shield. He ducked and rammed his sword up into the soldier’s jaw and turned briefly to look over his shoulder. Kryst had staggered back, clasping at the arrow shaft in his neck and gasping for air as blood gushed down his neck. Pollux stared in blank amazement as Kryst charged at the Kyzantine coming over the wall on the ladder that he hadn’t been able to dislodge. He collected the man around the waist as he launched himself into the air, his foot caught the top rung of the ladder and took them all down to the ground in a tangle of bodies and wood.

Pollux screamed in rage and pressed on to the next ladder along the wall. He battered his way through and decapitated the next Kyzantine at the top of the ladder. With blood splattered across his face, he gritted his teeth as he kicked the ladder away from the wall. An arrow sailed into his shoulder.

‘Fight!’ he ordered the Murukans around him who had seen Kryst fall.

Leaving his sword in the chest of one woman, he snapped the shaft in his shoulder and jammed the broken end into the neck of a Kyzantine with his back turned before another Murukan hacked him down. Clutching the hilt of his sword, he ripped it from his victim and ran forward to reclaim the rampart.

Cronos wiped the blood off his sword and looked over his troops. As the sunlight diminished he could still make out the faces of the men below him, now a lot less than before they had started today. Those that could still stand remained on the wall as the others were patched up the best that they could be and came grudgingly back.

After a solid four hours of fighting the Kyzantines had retreated back up the pass toward the valley. Sending wave after wave of fresh men against the wall to be slaughtered didn’t seem to be agreeing with their generals. Nowhere near as sneaky as their first attack on Black Claw. They had left their dead lying against the base of the wall, a few Murukans in the mix. They would need to be cleared and burned to keep the diseases away.

Cronos watched on as a young soldier moved along the wall and told the wounded to get treatment while he remained in their place. The sergeant had made a name for himself, firstly leading men up onto the rampart when the Fists took Black Claw and now with his steadfast authority and his compassion for his men. Cronos had lost the captain of the Fists today and this boy was seemingly his replacement. Byrn had reported that the men followed him to quell the breach on the right wall, obeying him unquestioningly.

The lad was much like his father when he was younger. Cronos could remember Fallon well; he had served with him and Byrn on countless campaigns. A good man, he had a unique ability to rally the men, was compassionate and never shied from away from duty.

Cronos scratched his chin. The boy had been given the opportunity to learn more than his father, hadn’t excelled in his studies like his brother, but he was a natural born leader and tactics could be drummed into him. He was the best candidate of all the sergeants in the Fists — one had died, one was wounded and the other rushed head long into battle without any conceivable plan. The Fists wouldn’t accept a man from another unit so Fallon’s boy would be it. He walked from the tower, circling down the internal stairs and out onto the rampart.

‘Pollux.’

‘Yes baron,’ he replied, snapping to attention.

Cronos scanned him up and down, noticed the dents in his shield, his battered scabbard and the blood trickling down his arm.

‘Have you had that seen to?’ Cronos indicated the blood dribbling down his arm.

‘Yes sir, just a scratch.’

‘Good, can’t have the new captain of the Fists already incapacitated.’

‘Sir?’

‘You heard. You and the Fists are also in charge of this side of Black Claw. The Sentinels have the other. I don’t expect there to be any breaches this time when they attack again.’

‘No sir, thank you sir.’

‘Do whatever you need to see that it is properly defended. Whatever you can find you can use, you just can’t have any more men.’ There were no more men.

Pollux nodded and Cronos left, walked back to the tower and heard the boy being congratulated.

‘Was that wise?’ Byrn asked as the baron reached the tower top.

Byrn stood with his hands on his hips, looking over the tower’s edge at his one-time charge. Cronos suspected that the old master of arms could only see the little troublemaker he had a hand in raising and not the commanding soldier that stood on the wall before him. Most of Byrn’s grey hair had come from the youngster and his older brother and their antics around Buckthorne. Cronos had kept an eye on the lads in a round about sort of way and knew that both boys were exceptionally talented like their father had been. Cronos smiled reassuringly at Byrn, surmising exactly what young Pollux was capable of.

‘Let’s see what the boy has got before we start to judge. He just might surprise you Byrn.’

Pollux looked along the wall at the stationed troops and thought of those returning from the infirmary when the time came. He needed a better system of defence, they couldn’t rely on the magi or just wait for the walls to be breached. He looked over the buildings of Black Claw’s compound, his mind racing at the instruction to use whatever he wanted.

He wandered down the stairs to a waiting group of soldiers fresh from the infirmary.

‘Ready to go?’ Pollux asked.

‘Yes, captain.’

News travelled quickly. Pollux shrugged, he better get used to it. ‘There were drums of oil around the back of the mess hall. I want oil smothered along the edge of the wall so that the ladders can’t find purchase. I also want one of the barrels attached to a pump and a long hose that can reach all the way along on the right side.’

Two of the group nodded and ran off. The others waited for their instructions, arms folded across their chests.

‘In the barracks there are tower shields lined up along the walls that look like relics from the Border Wars. They will offer much better protection against arrows. And raid the compound and bring any repeater crossbows up to the wall also. We can do this in teams, one man defends, the other fires. Find others to help you bring them up. Go.’

They ran off in different directions, scattering around the compound recruiting other members of the Fists to help.

Pollux looked up to the tower, vaguely making out the silhouettes of the baron, master of arms, and the two magi. With all of them watching him, he prayed to the gods that this plan of his would work.

Pollux stood on top of the wall and peered out into the pass. The sun was on the verge of setting and it was going to be a hot summer’s evening. He looked at his men. With barely an hour’s respite they looked tired but ready. Tower shields lined the walls, held by every other man. The alternates held loaded crossbows and stood silently watching. Pollux nervously paced along the wall, waiting, watching.

The attack came as the sun hit the horizon with very little light in the sky. The Kyzantine force surged forward under the cover of a blanket of arrows that filled the red sky.

‘Shields up,’ Pollux ordered as the arrows sailed overhead. Men propped the shields forward as the archers ducked behind. They thudded into the defence but failed to wound. Over and over the Kyzantine archers fired as the infantry moved closer with their ladders and battering ram. Pollux judged within moments they would be within firing range.

‘Archers fire!’ he screamed and as one all of the Fists’ archers sidestepped from behind their defenders, took aim, and fired. Shaft after shaft bit into flesh and dropped the heavily armoured enemy. The Murukan barrage ended with bodies scattered on the battlefield beneath the walls.

‘Archers pull back,’ he ordered above the clamour. ‘Reload.’

Men frantically loaded bolts as arrows rained into the tower shields protecting them. Pollux smiled with grim satisfaction when he realised he still hadn’t lost a man. The enemy were basically on top of them now, ladders scant metres from the wall, yet still no dead.

‘Fire,’ Pollux screamed, and again the archers sidestepped and unleashed their load into the enemy. They targeted the soldiers climbing the ladders and sent them screaming through the air. Pollux looked over at the dead, bolts protruding from chest plates, eyes, shields and legs.

Still the Kyzantines kept coming.

‘Draw swords.’

As one the Fists pulled weapons and waited for the oncoming Kyzantines. The first ladder hit the wall and with a slight tap went sailing into the one next to it. Soldiers screamed as they toppled over, falling into the blades of those below. The ladders that managed to get a secure purchase on the wall soon found it difficult to get a man over. The first Kyzantine up a ladder put one foot on the wall and slipped, he flew forward cracking his jaw and snapping his neck. Ladders and men alike were repelled from the walls as the Fists held their line.

‘Bring up the hose,’ Pollux yelled to the men stationed below. Two soldiers ran up the stairs dragging the hose attached to the pump. As they reached the top, another two soldiers below started pumping. The soldiers braced themselves as the oil moved slowly up the hose and started to spray on the enemy pressed against the wall below. As the pressure escalated, the oil jettisoned into the sky covering those between the mountainside and the tower. Pollux signalled for them to stop and those below ceased pumping. Once the oil had stopped spraying from the hose, he indicated for the soldiers step back.

Pollux’s face was hard as he struck a match and flicked it over the wall. It sailed down, threatening to ignite the air and landed on a waiting soldier. The reaction was spontaneous. Flames ignited and incinerated those soaked. They screamed as they burned. Pollux turned away from the stench of burnt flesh and black smoke.

The Kyzantines untouched by the flames ran back down the pass. The entire right side was left deserted, all that remained were scorched remains and ash. The panic spread to the left flank, forcing the Kyzantine general to quit the battle.

The black smoke filled the night sky as the oil still smouldered, the flames still taking the bodies. The fire would buy them some time, at least long enough for some reinforcements to arrive, and it would certainly force the enemy to attack to the left side of Black Claw. Knowing was half the battle and Pollux could allocate troops to better defend the next attack.

He stalked along the rampart as the enemy fled to Cerebus Valley. As he reached the stairs near the tower, Cronos, Byrn, and the magi appeared. They were all smiles and congratulated each other with pats on the back.

Ara placed a hand on his arm as if to stop him, bring him in on the conversation and congratulatory talk but Pollux brushed her off and kept walking down the stairs.

‘Show some respect,’ Ara snapped, her hand clenched in anger as flames formed around her fist.

‘Careful now, you aren’t the only one who can burn things,’ he warned.

Ara looked like she was going to say something but thought better of it, closing her mouth as the spell fizzled out.

Pollux kept walking down the stairs and past the barracks. When he was out of sight of the wall, he ducked behind the kitchen and doubled over, the vomit coming from the pit of his stomach. He heaved until there was nothing coming up bar bile. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked for the black smoke of the roasting bodies.

Pollux headed around the corner and caught sight of Ara walking toward him. He knew this wasn’t going to go well before she even opened her mouth.

‘What’s your problem?’ she spat out.

‘My problem?’

‘I try to be nice …’

‘Nice? You’ve got some strange notions about nice.’

‘Excuse me? I was offering some congratulations.’

‘After all the threats over the last two days I just didn’t think it was coming from the right place, you know? Actually, I thought you were just being a patronising bitch.’