Talon of the Silver Hawk (36 page)

“How do we deal with these turtles?''

Creed swore. “If this was a conventional siege, they'd have been made in an engineer's shop; they'd be big things, on wheels, with a ram hidden under a roof, or room for men inside to shelter from arrows. Then they'd have to get close to the gate or down to the wall so they could start excavating at the plinth and collapse it. So we'd pour burning oil over it, or drop hooks on ropes and hike it up with a winch so that it turned over . . .”

“But this isn't a castle, and they're not building anything that fancy. What do you think they'll do?''

“They'll construct a shell of sorts in which half a dozen or so men can run along while we bounce arrows off their heads until they can get close enough to the wall to throw something. If they've got the right kind of oil, they can fire a section of the stockade and make a breach.''

Tal glanced back to the boys standing next to the catapults. “Can you rewind those things?” he called down.

One of the older boys nodded enthusiastically and shouted, “I watched them load it!” He grabbed up a long pole and fitted it into a notch in a gear and yelled to the other boys, “Come on, give me your weight!''

The boys piled on and levered the simple arm of the catapult back to its original position. One of the women in a building nearby ran over to help. Suddenly all the women and children were there, rewinding and setting the catapults, locking down the throwing arms.

“Put anything you can find in there that can do some damage!” shouted Tal. To Creed he said, “I wished we'd known we'd get a second round off. I'd have ordered more rocks brought inside.''

“No sense worrying about what we might have done,”
said Creed. “Better to worry about what Raven is going to do next.''

“So, when will he make his next move?''

Creed looked around and seemed to be thinking for a long time. Eventually, he said, “I think he'll wait until nightfall. If he comes at us in darkness, we lose some of the advantages we have now. He can get his ramps down and maybe our archers won't be as accurate while he's doing that. Maybe he'll slip a small company over to the east wall and get a few men over while most of his boys are pounding on the west gate.''

Creed's prediction turned out to be apt; throughout the afternoon, the defenders could hear the sound of axes and hammers echoing through the woods, but no attack came. Then at sundown, as the last rays of light were reflected off clouds high above the western horizon, the sounds of building ceased. For long minutes the villagers seemed to be holding their breath. The breeze rustled the branches, and birds chirped their evening song, but otherwise all was silent. Then a low rumbling sound, the sound of boots cracking twigs, and the snort of horses could be heard. A moment later a long wooden bridge emerged from the trees, and after that came the turtle. It looked like a flat boat with square ends, about twenty feet long, and the men who carried it walked in a line, each man with his hands above his head lifting it overhead. Tal grabbed his bow, though he judged the distance too far for a decent shot in the fading light. Then the men carrying the turtle turned beneath the wooden shell to face the wall and
started walking forward, those with the wooden bridge falling in behind.

“Will arrows have any effect?” Tal asked Creed.

“That's fresh-cut wood; damn close to green. If we had some naphtha or oil that would stick and burn, maybe,
but . . .” Creed shrugged. “We might get it to char in places, but it won't catch fire.''

An arrow whistled off the wall on the other side of the gate, striking the ground a few yards in front of the advancing turtle. Tal cried, “Save the arrows!” Then he turned back to Creed. “I have a plan,” he said.

“Good,” said Creed. “I always like it when a captain has a plan; makes getting killed a lot less random.''

“Take some men and pull down the bracing on the gate.''

Creed's forehead furrowed. “You want the gate to fail?''

“At the right time.''

Creed nodded. He turned and shouted to a group of men nearby, “Follow me!''

They quickly set to dismantling a series of braces and reinforcing timbers that had been put in place to make the gate that much harder to breach. Talon looked from the men frantically pulling away the supports to the turtle advancing across the ground outside. It reached the first line of pits and halted, the men underneath waiting as those behind brought forward the bridge.

“Arrows!” Tal shouted.

Bowmen along the ramparts arced arrows high into the darkening sky, most landing harmlessly, though a shout and a scream suggested that some damage had been done. Tal didn't think he was going to have any success with his archers, but he knew Raven would think it suspicious if the defenders didn't harass the attackers while they bridged the first trench.

Raven's men grunted with the exertion as they quickly ran the bridge out over the trench. The men in the turtle backed up, then moved in file until they were end-on to the bridge and quickly hurried across the first trench. When they reached the edge of the second, they turned again,
providing as much cover as they could, and a second bridge emerged from the woods.

Tal could see Raven exhorting his men in the failing light, though he couldn't hear exactly what he said. Torches were lit within the stockade, and Tal refined his idea. He turned and shouted down to Jasquenel's son, a youth named Tansa, “Pile as much flammable material as you can around the catapults, and be ready to fire them when I give you the signal.” The young man didn't hesitate, but ran off to pass the word. Within moments, women, children, and a few older men were carrying personal items from the various log buildings and piling them around the catapult.

Creed shouted up, “We've finished!”

“Stay there,” Tal said. He hurried down the ladder. “Here's what I want you to do. Take a dozen of your men and horses and hold them back at the east wall. Be ready to ride. I want your other men behind that building there”—he pointed to the first building on the right, as one entered the gate—“out of sight when the gates come down. I want Raven to think he's got a rout in progress, and I pray he comes riding in mad as hell and doesn't realize it's not just a bunch of Orodon hillmen he's facing.''

“What are you going to do?''

“I'm going to be on the wall with as many of the Orodon as will go up there with me.''

“Man, you're going to burn.''

“Not if I get off in time.''

Creed shrugged. “Well, what's the signal?''

“No chance of a signal from me. It's going to be too noisy. Tell whoever you think is best able to lead to just start shooting from up on the south wall when most of Raven's company is inside the compound, then yell down to the men you've got behind that building to rush them
from the rear. When you think it's right, come riding hard, and we'll roll them up.''

“Captain, it's crazy. We've only got a dozen men and Raven's got a hundred and twenty or more.''

“The odds will be less by the time you hit them. And he won't know how many riders you've got. Try to make as much noise as you can: he won't be able to see much with all the smoke.''

“Smoke?”

Tal pointed to where the villagers were busy putting everything that could burn around the catapults.

Creed shook his head. “Man comes to burn this place to the ground, and you're going to do it for him?''

Tal laughed. “These people can always rebuild, but they've got to be alive to do it.” He thought for a moment. He had thirty mercenary fighters and another twenty-five adult Orodon warriors, as well as some boys who could be pressed into service, as well as about thirty fit women who would fight if it came down to it. “If I can knock Raven's force down below seventy by the time you come riding out, we can throw equal numbers at them.''

“It'll be a slaughter,” said Creed.

“'These people are fighting for their lives, John. What are Raven's men fighting for?''

“Gold, but they're hard, practiced men, and . . .” Creed shook his head in resignation. “You're the captain, and I'm damned if I have a better plan, so we'll do it your way.''

A shout from the wall told Tal the second bridge was across the second trench. He said, “Pick your best dozen horsemen, John, and may the gods be with us all.” Then he turned and ran to the ladder, climbed quickly to the wall, and started passing the word to the men as to what he wanted next.

The mercenaries all left, some going to the south wall, others moving behind the building as ordered. To
Jasquenel, Tal said, “I need brave men who will stay here with me and shoot arrows at Raven's men once they're inside the compound.”

“All of our men will stay if you wish.''

“I need just ten,” said Tal. “Five on this side of the gate with me, and five more on the other side. Make it your best hunters. But they must make the invaders think there are many more of us on the walls, so tell them to yell, and move back and forth.''

“It will be done.''

“Tell the others to go to that building below us”—he pointed to the building opposite the one where Creed was placing the eighteen mercenaries—“and wait behind it. When you see the men I brought attack from behind that building over there, attack the enemy with everyone who can fight.” He paused. “And tell the women to start screaming, as if they are watching their children being murdered, when I set the fire over there.” He pointed to the catapults. “Make it sound as if all is lost, but I want them all armed and ready to defend the children.”

“They will be, Talon of the Silver Hawk,” said Jasquenel with a bow of his head. “No matter what occurs this night, the Orodon will sing your name, Last of the Orosini.''

Tal gripped his arm and said, “May our ancestors watch us and smile upon us tonight.''

“May it be so,” replied the old chieftain, and he started passing orders.

Looking down from his vantage, Tal saw that the turtle was almost up to the wall. Arrows stuck out of the wood like quills on a porcupine, while others bounced off harmlessly. He shouted, “Save your arrows!''

The turtle remained below the gate for nearly half an hour. Tal wondered what they were doing, and then the
men below started to withdraw. Glancing down, he saw something nestled against the gate, though in the darkness, he couldn't make out what it was. He hurried down and made his way through the village to where Creed waiting, and described what he had seen.

“Skins full of something nasty, something that burns,” Creed said. “Watch out for their bowmen lighting arrows to fire it off.''

Tal nodded. “Thanks. Good luck.” He ran back and reached the wall just as the archers standing in front of Raven and his captains started to light their arrows. Tal drew his own bow and sighted. If they were close enough to strike the gate, they were close enough to be targets. As soon as the first fire-arrow was loosed, Tal shot his own arrow. An archer screamed, then Tal was drawing arrows and nocking them as quickly as possible. Five of Raven's archers were wounded or killed—he didn't know which—before enough arrows struck the bags of oil at the base of the gate to ignite them.

As Creed had predicted, it was something nasty, a foul-smelling oil that burned with a very intense heat. Black smoke rose up and threatened to choke Tal and the others on the wall, but they held their places. Blinking away tears from the smoke, Tal waited.

For ten minutes the gate burned, and Tal crouched low behind the upper part of the stockade wall. He heard timbers creaking as the heat washed over him in waves, and knew that the binding which held the logs together would soon part, and then the gate would disintegrate.

Moments later, the logs fell, and the gate lay open. In the distance, Tal heard a voice shout, then the pounding of horses' hooves preceded a hundred men charging in file toward the first bridge.

Tal raised his bow. “Get ready!” he commanded, and he waited for the first rider to get close enough for him to fire.

Tal aimed.

The first rider within range flew backward from his saddle as another archer got in a lucky shot. Tal followed an instant later, and one of Raven's mercenaries screamed as he was also lifted out of his saddle.

Tal turned and shouted down to the boys by the catapults, “Fire!''

The lads holding the lanyards pulled hard, and rocks, pottery, broken furniture, and even cooking utensils were hurled at the enemy.

“Burn it!''

Torches were thrust into rags soaked in oil so that black smoke rose from the catapults as the boys ran to their designated locations. The older ones picked up the bows that had been left for them and got ready to attempt to take out any rider who might get within range.

Tal turned his attention back to the attackers and started firing. He struck at least two more before the column raced into the open grounds in the center of the village. Smoke from the gate choked the night air, and the fire from the catapults suddenly illuminated the enemy.

Tal shouted to a woman down below, “Tell the others to start the screaming!”

She complied, and instantly the air was filled with the sounds of terror, the women screeching and wailing as if their babies were being butchered before their very eyes.

The riders who cleared the gate looked around in confusion, momentarily disoriented. They could hear the screaming, but there were no women in sight, and no men on the ground attacking them. Instead, they were being peppered with arrows by the men on the wall. Soon, raiders were falling on all sides.

“Dismount!” shouted one man, leaping from his horse to crouch behind its neck. “They're up on the walls!” He pointed.

Tal and the others loosed their arrows as fast as they could, keeping the riders pinned down. In the Orodon language Tal cried, “Stay here and keep shooting!”

Ignoring the ladder, he jumped onto the roof of a nearby building. Then with another leap, he moved onto the eaves of the building and threw himself at the nearest raider who remained in the saddle, pulling the man down and drawing his sword as he rolled to his feet. The raider already had his sword out, having managed to hang on to it, but he died before he realized where his opponent stood.

Tal found himself in the middle of a milling band of more than a hundred men, all attempting to hold on to horses made frantic by the smoke, the cries of dying men, and the constant sound of arrows speeding past them. Occasionally an arrow would strike a horse, causing it to
rear or kick, then the animals nearby would panic and try to pull away. More than one raider was suddenly yanked off his feet or dragged a dozen yards by a maddened horse.

Tal dodged under the necks of horses, killing any man he came within a sword's length of. Six men were on the ground dead or dying before the raiders realized that an enemy was in their midst. Just as men started shouting orders, John Creed unleashed his attack.

Creed's men raced out from behind the building where they had been hiding, and a moment later Jasquenel and his warriors attacked from the other side. The raiders still had superior numbers, but they were in turmoil, while Tal's forces had both a purpose and a goal.

For a moment there seemed to be a balance, as the outnumbered defenders held the attackers at bay, while Tal moved among the raiders like death incarnate, killing with bloody efficiency. His opponents would see him for a moment, then he would vanish behind a rearing horse only to be seen a moment later leaping over the body of a fallen comrade.

But the enemy began to organize themselves, and soon the Orodon and mercenary ambush was repulsed. Tal shouted, “Keep attacking!” in the Orodon language, then repeated the command in the Common Tongue.

Horses were running through the smoke, between the buildings, and back out of the gate, and the conflict began to resolve itself. Tal found himself suddenly surrounded by six men, and at that moment he felt fated to die.

Then the man directly in front of him was struck by an arrow through the neck, and the one beside him went wide-eyed as he was struck from behind by John Creed's blade. Tal spun and slashed out with all his strength, taking a man's head completely off his shoulders, then carrying
the blow through to strike the shoulder of the man next to him.

Then the dozen riders at the rear of the village attacked.

Raiders turned to see horsemen emerging from the smoke, shouting and bearing down on them, and a number of the enemy turned to run. More followed, and suddenly it was a rout.

Those raiders who could mounted horses and sped back across the clearing toward the trees, while others fled on foot. Many were slain by the archers who had stayed up on the wall despite the dangerous proximity of the burning gate and the choking smoke.

Tal shouted, “Hold!''

The Orodon and mercenary riders reined in, and Tal cried, “We don't want to get scattered out there in the dark! We could lose everything we've won.''

The Orodon began to cheer. Then people started to deal with the fires, fetching water from the village well and attacking smaller fires with blankets or kicking earth onto them.

For a full minute the people celebrated with backslapping, congratulations, and a great sense of triumph, although soon chance-fallen comrades would be discovered in other parts of the village, or beneath the wall. Tal was about to tell the men to search for wounded and the dead who might be out of sight when a shout came from the wall above. “They've stopped!''

Tal hurried to the gate, which was now a smoking pile of embers on either side of a gap in the wall, and looked into the distance. The fire behind him had blinded him to the night, so it took a full minute for his vision to adjust so that he could properly see what was taking place across the clearing.

Raven was rallying his forces!

Tal could not afford to hesitate. “Everyone fights!” he shouted. “They're coming back.” To the few remaining bowmen, he shouted, “Up on the walls! Pick your targets carefully.” Placing his left hand on Jasquenel's shoulder, he said, “Tell the older children to get the little ones out into the woods now, but the women stay and fight if they're able.''

Creed said, “Your eyes are better than mine. All I see is some movement.”

The fire behind them illuminated half the distance between the gate and the edge of the clearing, and most of the men near Tal could see only a confused blur. “They're coming,” he observed. “Most are on foot, but I think he's got a dozen horse moving out there somewhere.” Then he yelled, “We stand here!''

“Well, I always prefer a stand-up fight to a running battle or a siege,” Creed said. Lowering his voice, he asked, “How many?''

“More than us,” Tal replied.

“Well, wouldn't be the first time.''

Tal hurried to what was left of the gate, blinking away tears from the acrid smoke, and stared into the gloom once more.

As shapes began to loom up out of the darkness, Tal saw that Raven had bullied his men back into some semblance of order. They advanced in three lines, about twenty men abreast, with the first rank holding shields in front of them. The second rank had every pole arm weapon they possessed—halberds to pull riders from horses, spears; even two lances had been pressed into service. The third line was composed of archers.

To the men on the wall, Tal shouted: “Ignore the men in front. Kill their archers if you can!''

Creed squinted. “He's ready for the cavalry to charge.''

Tal nodded. “Too bad we can't oblige him. He doesn't know our cavalry consisted of a dozen men who are now standing here.''

Two dozen children, the oldest carrying the very youngest, ran past, darting to the left at the gate, hugging the wall, and heading south into the woods.

The women came out, many bearing weapons which had once belonged to Raven's men. Tal directed them into the buildings on the right and left, telling them to fall on the attackers from behind once the archers came into the stockade.

Tal moved his forces back as close to the burning catapults as they could go. The flames had diminished, but there was still enough heat to discourage anyone from approaching any closer. They would be silhouettes against the flames, while Raven's men would be revealed by the light once they entered the compound.

As the attackers advanced to the first bridge, those in the first rank started racing across in pairs, holding their shields high to protect themselves from archers. The expected fusillade of arrows didn't materialize as those on the walls waited for Raven's archers to come into range.

“Get ready!” Tal shouted, and suddenly the first line of raiders charged. “Hold your ground!''

Bellowing their war cries, the twenty men in the first rank ran into the compound, and battle was joined. Tal wished he had spent more time practicing against an opponent with a shield when he had trained in Salador, for while he could quickly best most swordsmen on the dueling floor of the Masters' Court, a man with a shield was a rather more difficult proposition.

The sound of bowstrings snapping told Tal that the archers on both sides were busy. He heard shouts and
screams of pain nearby, and guessed that Raven's archers were shooting at the enemy on the ground, ignoring the half a dozen bowmen who were firing at them. He hoped his own archers could diminish the number out there quickly.

Tal slashed and thrust as frantically as he had ever done in his life, trying to protect those on either side of him as well as to defend himself. Raiders fell, only to be replaced by other raiders.

Time seemed to slow as Tal laid about him, striking blows and blocking them with almost no thought, letting his swordsman's instincts take over. Part of his mind tried to apprehend the chaos around him, but he just didn't seem able to make sense of what was happening.

A big mercenary with a scar shouted in rage and leapt at him, bashing him in the face with his shield. Tal reeled backward and fell, feeling sudden pain in his back. He rolled to his right as he realized he had fallen upon a smoldering hunk of wood, still red-hot, and had been burned on his left shoulder blade. He flipped up onto his feet, his sword at the ready, and saw the scar-faced mercenary lying on his stomach, John Creed pulling his sword from the man's side. “John!” shouted Tal, and the mercenary ducked and turned just in time to avoid another raider's blade.

Tal pushed forward between Creed and an Orodon warrior and killed the man who had almost taken Creed by surprise.

Then he was once more assailed by the sounds of battle—metal clanging, grunts of exertion, cries of pain and frustration, curses and inarticulate shouts of anger. The air was thick with the reek of blood, feces, urine, smoke, and sweat.

Then the madness seemed to double as the Orodon women ran out of their hiding places, falling onto the
enemy archers as they entered the compound. The archers were forced to drop their bows and draw their swords, and in that moment the women seized the advantage. Ignoring their lack in weapons skill, they hurled themselves at the archers, swarming down a half dozen of them who died from the thrusts of daggers, kitchen knives, pokers, or whatever else came to hand. One woman dispatched a raider with a bone knitting needle driven into his eye. She clawed his belt-knife from his fingers and turned to leap upon another raider.

The balance turned. Tal stepped back and for a mo-ment saw everything as if it were a still painting and he were studying it in detail. Four Orodon bowmen still survived, and they were firing down from the battlements, taking care to pick off raiders who were at the edges of the conflict. The core of Raven's men wavered, held at bay by Tal's line, while those behind were being swarmed by the women. The villagers had the advantage in numbers for the first time. Behind all of this, Tal saw something that made his eyes widen. Two of the boys sent with the younger children into the woods had returned, calmly picked up bows dropped by the archers, and were now shooting arrows into the backs of the men engaged in grappling with the women.

Tal sensed that this was the moment he had been waiting for. “Charge them!” he shouted, and leapt into the fray.

He killed two men with a side-to-side attack, and suddenly the raiders were attempting to flee. “Kill them all!” he shouted, as much to frighten the invaders as to release all the anger harbored against these men since the death of his own people.

Hacking downward, he severed the hand from a man about to strike out at a woman who was on top of another
enemy. The raider stared in disbelief for an instant as blood fountained from his severed forearm, then shock and pain struck him and he fell to his knees, clutching his wounded arm. Tal cut him across the base of his neck with a quick flick of his blade, and the man collapsed like a wet rag doll, all the life drained out of him in a moment.

Tal kicked hard against the back of the leg of a man who turned away from him, causing him to stumble, throwing him off-balance, and forcing him to drop his shield, which allowed an Orodon warrior an opening in which to kill him.