Devastating Hate (25 page)

“I've never seen an orc army that large.” Endrawolt, his deputy, stood behind him, looking down at the enemy who remained just out of range of their catapults. “Up to now we've only ever had to deal with the odd band of greenskins.” He beat his gloved fist against the stone balustrade. “How can they dare to take arms against us like this?” Endrawolt shook his head. “Look how many they are!”

“They know we are in charge of defense for the entire region. If the town falls, they can do whatever they want.” Doghosh saw the ugly banners fluttering over the orc camps. “These monsters must be from several different tribes, but I don't recognize any of the devices on those flags out there.” He stepped back so he was next to Endrawolt. “If I didn't know any better, I'd say they were from the Outer Lands. But that would mean one of the passes had fallen.”

“Unthinkable! Utterly impossible! I'd say they must have been breeding here in secret—letting us think there were really only a few of them so that one day they could spring something like this on us!”

Doghosh's silence indicated that he disagreed.

Sonnenhag had had the good fortune to receive warning of the invading force: an orc scouting party had been spotted early, so they had barred the gates. It had just been a precautionary measure, but less than a quarter of an hour later the army had turned up to storm the town walls, failing at the outer ring. Now nearly 30,000 inhabitants were quaking in their beds with a mere 2,000 soldiers responsible for their safety.

“They'll have to defeat us if they want the land for fifty miles around us.” Doghosh drew the cool air into his lungs. “They're taller and broader than normal orcs, their tusks are painted and their armor and weaponry are different.” He pointed to the siege ladders the town defenders had destroyed. “Even the way they've fixed the rungs to the uprights is new.”

“You're quite sure they're from the Outer Lands?”

“Tell me how they could possibly have kept their growing numbers secret if they were breeding so quickly,” said Doghosh. “There must be about 20,000 of them. And then there are the others, the smaller ones. We'd have been bound to notice what they were up to if they'd been local! They can't make themselves invisible.” He looked past Endrawolt to the rings of town walls behind them. “Do our men know we're giving up the outer ring at the next surge?”

“Yes.”

“They are making preparations?”

Endrawolt nodded. “We'll need another seven days. Even nine.” His hand caressed the stone of the battlements. “It's an outrage to have to surrender the walls our ancestors built.”

“But it'll kill many more than the catapults can.” Doghosh had given the command that all the male residents between fourteen and sixty cycles were to report for digging duty. The idea was to undermine the foundations of the ring wall so that at the crucial moment—and given encouragement—it would collapse outward. The wall was tall enough that it would crush the orcs along its whole circumference. With enough impetus, the blocks of stone would roll down the hill and take out plenty more.

There will be a few thousand fewer to fight if the gods are with us.
Doghosh had never had to think in numbers like this. The most dangerous bands of outlaws might have been fifty strong, and a horde of orcs perhaps up to a hundred. Even if there were skirmishes along the border with troops from rival kingdoms, you would not usually get more than 500 warriors on each side.

How should he proceed in order to save his town? Sonnenhag had, in the times of peace, lost its importance as a bastion and was now nothing more than a large fortified town that owed its prosperity to trade with nearby Ido.

The commander still had 2,000 men under him, but he had no idea if they were really up to repelling further attacks like the one they had repulsed eleven days ago. Chasing a robber band through the woods or running down a gang of pickpockets in town was absolutely not the same thing. He had seen naked fear in his men's eyes following the attempted storming. Some of the younger guards had had the trembles ever since.

“Right,” he said, starting down the tower steps. “Let's get the second ring sorted. We'll need stones up there to throw at the enemy.”

“We've started to pull down the oldest buildings.”

“Remember to tell them the blocks must be small enough for even the weaker ones—women and boys as well—to heave over the side. Who knows how long we'll have enough trained soldiers doing the job?”

Doghosh and Endrawolt made their way down the spiral stairs and strode alongside the ditches at the foot of the first wall, where substantial wood supports prevented the walls from falling backward onto the workforce hacking away with their shovels. Straw soaked in pitch and petroleum had been piled against the wall.

They looked up at him with a strange mixture of fear and loyalty. Doghosh tried to display as much confidence as possible and keep his men's spirits up.

But by the time he and his deputy had arrived at the second wall he could not help sighing deeply. “It's going to be hard, Endrawolt. We won't have any more walls in reserve if the orcs bring up reinforcements. What are we going to do?”

“Pray. Our safety lies in the hands of the gods.”

“Our safety used to lie primarily in the hands of the dwarves.” Doghosh looked north, to where dark clouds were gathered on the skyline.
What can have happened for the dwarves to let us down like this?
He turned around abruptly. He needed to get to the council meeting at which he was expected to report his progress.

He got on his horse and rode through the gate of the innermost wall. This one was not as substantial as the two outer rings of fortifications: time and weathering had allowed fine cracks to develop on the northern face. The inhabitants had always been able to rely on the strength of the outer walls. But it was about to be sacrificed.

Men and their sons were busying themselves with cartloads of stones. Ammunition. There was no complaining. It was life or death.

Originally from the south, Doghosh had made Sonnenhag his home when he was forced to leave his birthplace due to plague. He had promised his dying wife he would go. He liked it here: the half-timbered houses with their carved balconies and murals were how the townspeople had demonstrated a hard-won prosperity. Now their peaceful life was under threat.

He acknowledged every greeting with a silent nod.

He would not have to speak much; he would only explain, yet again, that every single person was doing everything they could. The old councillors would be glad to hear this and would congratulate him and then they would all say a prayer to Elria. It had been the same story every day since the beginning of the siege. The goddess did not seem to be taking much notice.

He reached the citadel that housed the council chamber. This was where the weakest inhabitants would take shelter when the next attack came. There were bunkers underground where people could be safe even if the houses burned or collapsed. A secret tunnel led out of the catacombs into the open air, but it did not go far enough to evacuate the whole town without the orcs noticing.

Maybe they will be the only ones in Sonnenhag to survive the siege.
Doghosh reined in his horse and was about to dismount when the alarm sounded.

The North Gate!
He turned his horse back through the narrow streets, racing through the exits to the outer wall. “What's happening?” he shouted, springing out of the saddle and running up the steps to the walkway. “They're coming!” Endrawolt pointed to the broad road that led toward Sonnenhag. Before the siege, merchants and tradesmen in coaches and on carts had regularly used this road, but now it was a throng of orcs trundling their crude but functional siege engines along. He could see three battering rams heading their way and then catapults for spears and arrows. “I can't see any catapults. That's one good thing.”

Doghosh wondered what instructions he should give. “How far along are the excavations?”

“The towers will stay standing, but we can topple the walls right and left for a distance of just over a hundred paces. We haven't been able to get any farther yet. We had expected the attack to come from the south—” Endrawolt uttered a curse. “They're coming really fast! They've got new siege ladders, three or four dozen, it looks like.”

Doghosh watched them approach. They had impressive-looking ladders on rollers, which had shields to protect the climbers from bolts and arrows fired down on them. Infantry in various formations brought up the rear.
This is not going to be easy. They've got lots of tricks up their sleeves.
Doghosh was convinced that these monsters had come from outside Girdlegard.

The enemy started firing arrows, many of them falling short and crashing into the stonework, but others flew in far over their heads.

“They're testing the aim. Another couple of salvoes and they'll be around our ears.” Endrawolt yelled down at the men in the ditches, telling them to get out. The ditches were to be filled with water to make things go smoothly. “Take hold of the supports,” he called. “Listen out for the order.”

Doghosh realized that the falling wall would only take out half of the enemy front. “Endrawolt, send word for the best horsemen: those who don't have family! They must be sent out with messages for our king. He has to know what is happening in Sonnenhag. He must assemble an army to defeat the orcs when we are gone. We will do all we can in the meantime. The messengers should be given the best of our horses and must set off as soon as some kind of gap appears in the enemy ranks. Warn them they may well lose their lives in the attempt to get word out.”

His deputy nodded and spoke crisply to one of his officers, who ran down the steps to carry out the order.

“Get down!” came a shout from the nearby tower.

Endrawolt and Doghosh ducked, narrowly avoiding incoming fire.

The second salvo had been accurate. Anyone up on the battlements was at risk of being hit if they were spotted in the open embrasures. The Sonnenhag defenders could only reply with archers and crossbowmen. The council had never dreamed their city would be confronted with dangers such as these.

Nobody had.
Doghosh was not apportioning any blame to the city elders. Once he had thought that the stars would fall to the earth before the orcs would turn up with a force like this one. He peered cautiously around the edge of the protective crenel. “They'll be here any minute! Their siege ladders are only forty paces off! Withdraw now!”

The command was passed down the line without a bugle sounding. A handful of the bravest stayed up on the battlements, showering the attackers with arrow-fire to make it look as if all the defenders were still in position.

Doghosh and Endrawolt made their way down to the foot of the walls where the men stood ready with their long poles.

There was only a distance of thirty paces to be covered before they reached the safety of the second wall. If the worst came to the worst, the surviving orcs would catch some of the slower humans. The archers up on the second wall would do their best to prevent that from happening.

“The masonry will kill them all,” Doghosh called, climbing up into the saddle. “Take heart! Sonnenhag is our bastion against the monsters of Tion. We will stand firm until the king arrives with an army to liberate the town!” His words echoed back from the town walls. There were no answering cheers from the townspeople.

Water steadily filled the ditches, softening the ground and allowing the pitch-sodden straw to float to the surface.

The din the orcs were making got louder and louder; their tinny instruments squeaked and their drumrolls urged them on. The walls amplified the noises so that those waiting by the ditch felt that the enemy army must be getting bigger all the time.

Elria, protect our people and our town! Help our children!

One of the archers up on the wall called out, “Ten paces to go.”

“Get down!” Doghosh ordered before turning to the men. “Right! All of you, push hard against the wall. As hard as you can! We'll crush these vermin when the walls collapse. As soon as the wall starts to fall, drop your staves and run for it!” He rode along the line repeating his orders so that everyone could hear him above the gruff orc shouts. It was vital their own losses were kept to an absolute minimum at this stage.
Ideally, we won't lose a single man.

The last of the archers came running down the steps, taking up their positions behind the men with the staves who were shoving with all their might.

Cracks started to appear and mortar crumbled away; some sections of the wall were tilting, but the whole construction was still intact.

“Push harder still!” Doghosh yelled. “And start the burning!”

Some orcs had managed to scale the walls, weapons raised, looking in vain for someone to fight.

The straw on the water-filled ditch was ignited with a fire arrow and the pitch and petroleum mix burned strongly, sending up clouds of thick black smoke to make the invaders' eyes water.

“Shoot them!” Endrawolt cursed. “Those triple-damned—”

Archers on the ground and on the battlements of the second wall sent their arrows flying at the enemy, killing one orc after another as soon as they appeared around the sheltering armor of the siege ladders.

But for each monster killed, ten new ones arrived. Some were already running down the steps wielding terrifyingly large clubs, axes, morningstars and swords. Doghosh could smell the rancid fat they smeared their armor with and their war shouts were ear-shattering.

“Start shoving again!” Doghosh shouted. The stones continued to put up staunch resistance to the softness of the ground and the muscle power of the humans.

He stopped near where the wall was weakest.
Oh, ye gods, give me your blessing and aid!
Covering his horse's eyes, he dug his spurs sharply into its sides and forced it into a charge, muttering, “Forgive me.” At the last moment he threw himself free.