A Darkness at Sethanon (39 page)

Baru leaped and
clambered up the side of the trail until he crouched behind the
precarious outcropping. He motioned for Laurie and Roald to join him.

Riders came into
view and the first spurred his mount when he saw Martin and the dog;
the other riders appeared an instant later. The Duke of Crydee
quietly drew a bead upon the charging lead rider. Martin let fly as
the horseman reached the narrowest part of the trail, and a
broad-head shaft struck the charging horse in the chest. The animal
went down as if poleaxed and the moredhel rider flew forward over the
animal’s neck, to hit the ground with back-breaking impact. The
second horse struck the fallen one and threw another rider. Martin
saw that rider dead with another arrow. Behind, confusion reigned as
the horses were thrown into a roadblock of dead animals and riders.
Two other horses appeared injured, but Martin couldn’t be sure.
Then Baru shouted. At once Blutark sprang down the trail.

Martin ran after
the dog as the sound of rocks coming loose filled the air. With an
almost explosive release, the rockslide came down in a torrent.
Martin could hear his companions swearing and yelling as a rain of
small rocks bounced down the trail beside him.

Martin halted to
observe the fall of rock. Dust filled the air, clouding his vision.
Then, as the dust began to settle, he could hear Laurie calling his
name. He dashed back and began to climb the slide. At the top, hands
grabbed him, and through watering eyes he saw Laurie. “Roald,”
he said, pointing.

The mercenary
had lost his footing, sliding down the hillside to land on the wrong
side of the rocks blocking the road. He sat with his back to the
fall, facing up the trail to where the moredhel and trolls regrouped.
“We’ll cover for you,” shouted Martin.

Roald turned and
with a grim smile shouted, “Can’t. My legs are broken.”
He pointed to where his legs stretched out before him, and Martin and
Laurie could see the blood beginning to pool. Bone was visible
through one trouser leg. He sat with his sword in his lap, daggers
held ready to throw. “Get along. I’ll hold them up a few
minutes. Get away.”

Baru came up
beside Laurie and Martin. “We must get away,” said the
Hadati.

Laurie said, “We
won’t leave you!”

Roald shouted,
but his eyes were fixed up the trail where vague shapes moved through
the dust. “I always wanted to die a hero. Don’t spoil it
for me, Laurie. Make up a song. Make up a good one. Now get out of
here!”

Baru and Martin
pulled Laurie down the rocks, and after a moment, he came willingly.
When they reached the place where Blutark waited, Laurie was the
first to begin the run down the trail. His face was a grim mask, but
his eyes were now dry. Behind they could hear the shouts of the
trolls and moredhel, accompanied by cries of pain, and they knew
Roald was giving a good account of himself. Then the sounds of
struggle ceased.

T
rumpets
sounded.

Armengarian
bowmen looked out upon the host that stood ready to assault the city.
For six days they had waited for the attack, and now it was under
way. Again a goblin trumpeter sounded the call, answered up and down
the line by other horns. Drums beat and the order for attack was
given. The line of attackers rolled forward, a living wave ready to
beat against the walls of Armengar. At first they moved slowly, then
as those in the van began to run, the host surged forward. Guy raised
his hand and signalled for the catapults to loose their deadly
missiles upon those beyond the walls. Stones flew overhead in a high
arc, to crash down upon the attackers. Goblins sprang over the bodies
of fallen comrades. This was their third assault upon the city since
dawn. The first attack had broken before they had reached the wall.
The second had carried the attackers to the moat, but there they had
broken and run.

They came
forward until they were at the limit of the archers’ range. Guy
ordered the bowmen to fire. A rain of arrows descended upon the
goblins and moredhel. Hundreds fell, some dead, others wounded, but
all were trampled under the boots of those who came behind.

And still they
came forward. Orders were given, and scaling ladders were brought up,
to be placed upon heavy platforms thrown across the moat. The ladders
were raised only to be pushed back by long poles. In futile effort,
the goblins were again and again seeking to climb the ladders, while
death rained down from above. Guy signalled and buckets and cauldrons
of scalding-hot oil were poured down upon the attackers. The rain of
stones, arrows, oil, and flame became too intense for the attackers
to survive. Within minutes, trumpets sounded from behind the lines
and Murmandamus’s forces were in full retreat. Guy ordered a
cease-fire.

He looked down
at the litter of bodies below the castle, hundreds of dead and
wounded. Turning to Amos and Arutha, he said, “Their commander
is without imagination. He wastes lives.”

Amos pointed to
where a company of moredhel sat atop a hillock, observing the
assault. “What he does is count our bowmen.”

Guy swore. “I
must be slipping. I didn’t see them.”

Arutha said,
“You’ve gone without sleep for two days. You’re
tired.”

Guy said, “And
I’m not as young as I used to be.”

Amos laughed.
“You never were.”

Armand de
Sevigny came up and reported, “There’s no activity along
any sector and the redoubts along the back of the cliff report
nothing of note behind us.”

Guy studied the
setting sun. “We’ll be done with them for this day. Order
the companies down in turn and get them fed. I’ll want watches
of one in five this night. We’re all tired.”

Guy walked along
the wall to the stairs leading downward, the others following. Jimmy
and Locklear came hurrying up the stairs, wearing leather armour
provided by the Armengarians. Arutha said, “Pulling first
watch?”

“Yes,”
said Jimmy. “We traded with a couple of fellows we met.”

Locklear said,
“The girls are on first watch, too.”

Arutha roughly
tousled the grinning Locklear’s hair and sent him after Jimmy.
Reaching the bottom of the stairs, he said, “We’ve got a
full-blown war raging around us, and he thinks of girls.”

Amos nodded. “We
were that young once, though I’d be hard pressed to remember
that far back. Though, it does remind me of this time I was sailing
down the lower Keshian delta, near the Dragonlands . . .”

Arutha smiled as
they headed for the common kitchen. Some things had not changed and
Amos’s storytelling was one of them, and at this time that was
a welcome fact.

The second day
the moredhel and goblin host attacked in the morning and were beaten
back without difficulty. Each time only a single thrust was made,
then a retreat. By late afternoon it was clear the besiegers were
settling down. Near sunset, Arutha and Guy watched from the wall, and
Amos came running toward them. “The lookouts on the top of the
citadel see movement across the plains behind these lads. Looks like
the bulk of Murmandamus’s army’s on the march. They
should be here by midday tomorrow.”

Guy looked at
his two companions. “It’ll take them a full day to get
into position. So we gain two more days. But the day after tomorrow,
even as dawn comes, he’ll hit us with everything he’s
got.”

The third day
passed slowly, while the defenders watched thousands of moredhel
soldiers and their allies take position in the camps about the city.
After sunset moving lines of torches showed that new companies were
still arriving. Throughout the night the sound of marching soldiers
filled the dark, and Guy, Amos, Arutha, and Armand repeatedly came to
look out upon the sea of campfires across the plain of Armengar.

But the fourth
day came and the besieging army only settled in, seemingly willing to
bide their time. For the entire day the full army of defenders held
to their places upon the walls, waiting for the assault. Near
sundown, Arutha said to Amos, “You don’t think they’re
going to try that Tsurani trick of attacking at night to divert our
attention from sappers?”

Amos shook his
head. “They’re not that clever. They wanted Segersen’s
boys because they don’t have engineers. If they’ve got
sappers tunnelling under these walls, I’d like to meet those
lads: they’d have to be rock-eating gophers. No, they’re
up to something, but nothing fancy. I just think his grand
bastardhood has no sense he’s got trouble here. That arrogant
swine-lover plans on overrunning us in one attack. That’s what
I think.”

Guy listened,
but his good eye was fixed upon the mass of enemies who camped upon
the plain. At last he said, “We gain another day for your
brother to get to Stone Mountain, Arutha.” Martin and the
others had been gone ten days now.

“There is
that,” agreed Amos. They watched in silence as the sun set
behind the mountains. They remained watching until darkness had
completely taken hold, then slowly they left the wall to eat and, if
possible, to rest.

At dawn a
thunderous cheer erupted from the besieging host, a mixture of
shouts, shrieks, the rattle of drums, and the blowing of horns. But
instead of the anticipated attack, the van of the army opened and a
large platform rolled forward. It was moved by the strength of a
dozen giants, the tall hairy creatures pushing it effortlessly. Upon
the platform rested a gold encrusted throne, upon which sat a single
moredhel dressed in a short white robe. Behind him crouched a figure
whose features were hidden by a bulky robe and deep hood. The
platform came toward the wall at a leisurely pace.

Guy leaned
forward, his arm resting upon the blue stones of the wall, while
Arutha stood at his side, arms crossed. Amos shaded his eyes with his
hands against the rising sun. The seaman spat over the wall. “I
think we finally meet the grand high royal bastard himself.”

Guy only nodded.
A company subcommander came up and said, “Protector, the enemy
takes position opposite all sectors of the wall.”

“Any
attempt to reach the mountain redoubts?” Guy indicated the
section of cliff behind the citadel.

“Armand
reports only weak thrusts toward the outposts in the rocks. They seem
unwilling to climb and fight.”

Guy nodded and
returned his attention to the field. The platform halted and the
figure on the throne stood.

By some act of
magic his voice filled the air, heard by everyone on the wall as if
he were standing only a few feet away. “O my children,”
he said, “hear my words.” Arutha looked at Amos and Guy
in wonder, for this Murmandamus spoke music. The very sounds of his
words were etched with the warmth of a lute’s melody. “We
share the destiny of tomorrow. Stand in opposition to fate’s
will and you risk utter destruction. Come, come. Let old differences
be put aside.”

He signalled and
a company of human riders came trotting up to stand behind him.
“Here, can you see? With me already are those of your kindred
who understand our destiny. 1 welcome all who will willingly serve.
With me you shall find a place of greatness. Come, come, let us put
aside the past. You are but my misguided children.”

Amos snorted.
“My old pa was a scoundrel, but that’s an insult.”

“Come, I
welcome any who will join.” His words were sweet, seductive and
those on the walls exchanged glances, and unspoken questions.

Guy and Arutha
looked about, and du Bas-Tyra said, “There’s art and
power in his voice. Look, my own soldiers are thinking maybe they
won’t have to fight.”

Amos said,
“Ready catapults.”

Arutha stepped
beside him. “Wait!”

“For
what?” asked Guy. “So he can sap the resolve of my army?”

“Stall for
time. Time is our ally, and his enemy.”

Murmandamus
shouted, “But those who oppose, those who will not stand aside
and who block our march toward destiny, those shall be crushed
utterly.”

Now, the tone of
his voice carried a warning, a note of menace, and those upon the
walls were visited by a feeling of utter futility. “I give you
a choice!” He stretched his arms away from his body, and his
short white robe fell away, revealing a body of incredible power,
with the purple dragon birthmark clearly seen. He wore only a white
loincloth. “You may have peace and serve in the cause of
destiny.” Servants ran forward and quickly fitted his armour to
his body: iron plates and greaves, chain and leather; a black helm,
with the upswept wings of a dragon on either side. Then the human
riders moved away, and behind, a full company of Black Slayers could
be seen. They rode forward and assumed positions about Murmandamus.
Murmandamus took up a sword and pointed it toward the wall. “But
if you resist, you will be obliterated. Choose!”

Arutha whispered
in Guy’s ear. At last the Protector shouted back, “I may
not order any to quit the city. We must meet in volksraad. We will
decide tonight.”

Murmandamus
paused, as if the answer was unexpected. He began to speak but was
interrupted by the serpent priest. With a curt gesture he silenced
the priest. Turning back toward the wall, Arutha imagined he could
see a smile below the eye guards of Murmandamus’s black helm.
“I will wait. At first light tomorrow, open the gates of the
city and come forth. You will be embraced as returning brethren, o my
children.” He signalled and the giants pulled back the
platform. In a few moments he had vanished into the huge host.

Guy shook his
head. “The volksraad will not do anything. I will knock down
any fool who thinks there is a single shred of truth in that
monster’s words.”

Amos said,
“Still we gain another day.”

Arutha leaned
back against the wall. “And Martin and the others are one day
closer to Stone Mountain.”