Magician (55 page)

Tsurani bowmen answered the bowmen from
the walls with their own shower of arrows, and men of Crydee fell
from the battlements. Arutha ducked behind the walls of the castle as
the arrows sped overhead, then he risked a glance between the merlons
of the wall. A horde of attackers filled his field of vision, and a
ladder top suddenly appeared before him. A soldier near the Prince
grabbed the ladder top and pushed it away, aided by a second using a
pole arm. Arutha could hear the screams of the Tsurani as they fell
from the ladder. The first soldier to the ladder then fell backward,
a Tsurani arrow protruding from his eye, and disappeared into the
courtyard.

A sudden shout went up from below, and
Arutha sprang to his feet, risking a bowshaft by looking down. All
along the base of the wall, Tsurani warriors were withdrawing,
running back to the safety of their own lines.

“What are they doing?”
wondered Fannon.

The Tsurani ran until they were safe
from the catapults, then stopped, turned, and formed up ranks.
Officers were walking up and down before the men, exhorting them.
After a moment the assembled Tsurani cheered.

“Damn me!” came from
Arutha’s left, and he glimpsed Amos Trask at his shoulder, a
seaman’s cutlass in his hand. “The maniacs are
congratulating themselves on getting slaughtered.”

The scene below was grisly. Tsurani
soldiers lay scattered around like toys thrown by a careless giant
child. A few moved feebly and moaned, but most were dead.

Fannon said, “I’d wager
they lost a hundred or more. This makes no sense.” He said to
Roland and Martin, “Check the other walls.” They both
hurried off. “What are they doing now?” he said as he
watched the Tsurani. In the red glow of sunset, he could see them
still in lines, while men lit torches and passed them around. “Surely
they don’t intend to attack after sunset? They’ll fall
over themselves in the dark.”

“Who knows what they plan?”
said Arutha. “I’ve never heard of an attack being staged
this badly.”

Amos said, “Beggin’ the
Prince’s pardon, but I know a thing or two about warcraft—from
my younger days—and I’ve also never heard of this like
before. Even the Keshians, who’ll throw away dog soldiers like
a drunken seaman throws away his money, even they wouldn’t try
a frontal assault like this. I’d keep a weather eye out for
trickery.”

“Yes,” answered Arutha.
“But of what sort?”

Throughout the night the Tsurani
attacked, rushing headlong against the walls, to die at the base.
Once a few made the top of the walls, but they were quickly killed
and the ladders thrown back. With dawn the Tsurani withdrew.

Arutha, Fannon, and Gardan watched as
the Tsurani reached the safety of their own lines, beyond catapult
and bow range. With the sunrise a sea of colorful tents appeared, and
the Tsurani retired to their campsites. The defenders were astonished
at the number of Tsurani dead along the base of the castle walls.

After a few hours the stink of the dead
became overpowering. Fannon consulted with an exhausted Arutha as the
Prince was readying for an overdue sleep. “The Tsurani have
made no attempt to reclaim their fallen.”

Arutha said, “We have no common
language in which to parley, unless you mean to send Tully out under
a flag of truce.”

Fannon said, “He’d go, of
course, but I’d not risk him. Still, the bodies could be
trouble in a day or two. Besides the stink and flies, with unbuned
dead comes disease. It’s the gods’ way of showing their
displeasure over not honoring the dead.”

“Then,” said Arutha,
pulling on the boot he had just taken off, “we had best see
what can be done.”

He returned to the gate and found
Gardan already making plans to remove the bodies. A dozen volunteers
were waiting by the gate to go and gather the dead for a funeral
pyre.

Arutha and Fannon reached the walls as
Gardan led the men through the gate. Archers lined the walls to cover
the retreat of the men outside the walls if necessary, but it soon
became evident the Tsurani were not going to trouble the party.
Several came to the edge of their lines, to sit and watch the Kingdom
soldiers working.

After a half hour it was clear the men
of Crydee would not be able to complete the work before they were
exhausted. Arutha considered sending more men outside, but Fannon
refused, thinking it what the Tsurani were waiting for. “If we
have to move a large party back through the gate, it might prove
disastrous. If we close the gate, we lose men outside, and if we
leave it open too long, the Tsurani breach the castle.” Arutha
was forced to agree, and they settled down to watch Gardan’s
men working in the hot morning.

Then, near midday, a dozen Tsurani
warriors, unarmed, walked casually across their lines and approached
the work party. Those on the wall watched tensely, but when the
Tsurani reached the spot where Crydee men worked, they silently began
picking up bodies and carrying them to where the pyre was being
erected.

With the help of the Tsurani, the
bodies were stacked upon the huge pyre. Torches were set, and soon
the bodies of the slain were consumed in fire. The Tsurani who had
helped place the bodies upon the pyre watched as the soldier who led
the volunteers stood away from the mounting flames. Then one Tsurani
soldier spoke a word, and he and his companions bowed in respect to
those upon the fire. The soldier who led the Crydee soldiers said,
“Honors to the dead!” The twelve men of Crydee assumed a
posture of attention and saluted. Then the Tsurani turned to face the
Kingdom soldiers and again they bowed. The commanding soldier called
out, “Return salute!” and the twelve men of Crydee
saluted the Tsurani.

Arutha shook his head, watching men who
had tried to kill one another working side by side as if it were the
most natural thing in the world, then saluting one another. “Father
used to say that, among man’s strange undertakings, war stood
clearly forth as the strangest.”

At sundown they came again, wave after
wave of attackers, rushing the west wall, to die at the base. Four
times during the night they struck, and four times they were
repulsed.

Now they came again, and Arutha
shrugged off his fatigue to fight once more. They could see more
Tsurani joining those before the castle, long snakes of torchlight
coming from the forest to the north. After the last assault, it was
clear the situation was shifting to the Tsurani’s favor. The
defenders were exhausted from two nights of fighting, and the Tsurani
were still throwing fresh troops into the fray.

“They mean to grind us down, no
matter what the cost,” said a fatigued Fannon. He began to say
something to a guard when a strange expression crossed his face. He
closed his eyes and collapsed. Arutha caught him. An arrow protruded
from his back. A panicky-looking soldier kneeling on the other side
looked at Arutha, clearly asking: What do we do?

Arutha shouted, “Get him into the
keep, to Father Tully,” and the man and another soldier picked
up the unconscious Swordmaster and carried him down. A third soldier
asked, “What orders, Highness?”

Arutha spun around, seeing the worried
faces of Crydee’s soldiers nearby, and said, “As before.
Defend the wall.”

The fighting went hard. A half-dozen
times Arutha found himself dueling with Tsurani warriors who topped
the wall. Then, after a timeless battling, the Tsurani withdrew.

Arutha stood panting, his clothing
drenched with perspiration beneath his chest armor. He shouted for
water, and a castle porter arrived with a bucket. He drank, as did
the others around, and turned to watch the Tsurani host.

Again they stood just beyond catapult
range, and their torchlights seemed undimimshed. “Prince
Arutha,” came a voice behind. He spun around Horsemaster Algon
was standing before him. “I just heard of Fannon’s
wound.”

Arutha said, “How is he?”

“A close thing. The wound is
serious, but not yet fatal. Tully thinks should he live another day,
he will recover. But he will not be able to command for weeks,
perhaps longer.”

Arutha knew Algon was waiting for a
decision from him. The Prince was Knight-Captain of the King’s
army and, without Fannon, the commander of the garrison. He was also
untried and could turn over command to the Horsemaster. Arutha looked
around. “Where is Gardan?”

“Here, Highness,” came a
shout from a short way down the wall. Arutha was surprised at the
sergeant’s appearance. His dark skin was nearly grey from the
dust that stuck to it, held fast by the sheen of perspiration. His
tunic and tabard were soaked with blood, which also covered his arms
to the elbows.

Arutha looked down at his own hands and
arms and found them likewise covered. He shouted, “More water!”
and said to Algon, “Gardan will act as my second commander.
Should anything happen to me, he will take command of the garrison.
Gardan is acting Swordmaster.”

Algon hesitated as if about to say
something, then a look of relief crossed his face. “Yes,
Highness. Orders?”

Arutha looked back toward the Tsurani
lines, then to the east. The first light of the false dawn was
coming, and the sun would rise over the mountains in less than two
hours. He seemed to weigh facts for a time, as he washed away the
blood on his arms and face. Finally he said, “Get Longbow.”

The Huntmaster was called for and
arrived a few minutes later, followed by Amos Trask, who wore a wide
grin. “Damn me, but they can fight,” said the seaman.

Arutha ignored the comment. “It
is clear to me they plan to keep constant pressure upon us. With as
little regard as they show for their own lives, they can wear us down
in a few weeks. This is one thing we didn’t count upon, this
willingness of their men to go to certain death. I want the north,
south, and east walls stripped. Leave enough men to keep watch, and
hold any attackers until reinforcements can arrive. Bring the men
from the other walls here, and order those here to stand down. I want
six-hour watches rotated throughout the rest of the day. Martin, has
there been any more word of Dark Brother migration?”

Longbow shrugged. “We’ve
been a little busy, Highness. My men have all been in the north woods
the last few weeks.”

Arutha said, “Could you slip a
few trackers over the walls before first light?”

Longbow considered “If they leave
at once, and if the Tsurani aren’t watching the east wall too
closely, yes.”

“Do so. The Dark Brothers aren’t
foolish enough to attack this force, but if you could find a few
bands the size of the one you spotted three days ago and repeat your
trap . . .”

Martin grinned. “I’ll lead
them out myself. We’d best leave now, before it gets much
lighter.” Arutha dismissed him, and Martin ran down the stairs.
“Garret!” he shouted. “Come on, lad. We’re
off for some fun.” A groan could be heard by those on the wall
as Martin gathered his trackers around him.

Arutha said to Gardan, “I want
messages sent to Carse and Tulan. Use five pigeons for each. Order
Barons Bellamy and Tolburt to strip their garrisons and take ship for
Crydee at once.”

Gardan said, “Highness, that will
leave those garrisons nearly undefended.”

Algon joined in the objection. “If
the Dark Brotherhood moves toward the Northlands, the Tsurani will
have an open path to the southern keeps next year.”

Arutha said, “If the Dark
Brothers are moving en masse, which they may not be, and if the
Tsurani learn they have abandoned the Green Heart, which they may
not. I am concerned by this known threat, not a possible one next
year. If they keep this constant pressure upon us, how long can we
withstand?”

Gardan said, “A few weeks,
perhaps a month No longer.”

Arutha once more studied the Tsurani
camp. “They boldly pitch their tents near the edge of town.
They range through our forests, building ladders and siege engines no
doubt. They know we cannot sally forth in strength. But with eighteen
hundred fresh soldiers from the southern keeps attacking up the coast
road from the beaches and the garrison sallying forth, we can rout
them from Crydee. Once the siege is broken, they will have to
withdraw to their eastern enclaves. We can harry them continuously
with horsemen, keep them from regrouping. Then we can return those
forces to the southern keeps, and they’ll be ready for any
Tsurani attacks against Carse or Tulan next spring.”

Gardan said, “A bold enough plan,
Highness.” He saluted and left the wall, followed by Algon.

Amos Trask said, “Your commanders
are cautious men, Highness.”

Arutha said, “You agree with my
plan?”

“Should Crydee fall, what matters
when Carse or Tulan falls? If not this year, then next for certain.
It might as well be in one fight as two or three. As the sergeant
said, it is a bold plan. Still, a ship was never taken without
getting close enough to board. You have the makings of a fine corsair
should you ever grow tired of being a Prince, Highness.”

Arutha regarded Amos Trask with a
skeptical smile. “Corsair, is it? I thought you claimed to be
an honest trader.”

Amos looked slightly discomposed. Then
he broke out in a hearty laugh. “I only said I had a cargo for
Crydee, Highness I never said how I came by it.”

“Well, we have no time for your
piratical past now.”

Amos looked stung. “No pirate,
Sire. The
Sidonie
was carrying letters of marque from Great
Kesh, given by the governor of Durbin.”

Arutha laughed. “Of course! And
everyone knows there is no finer, more law-abiding group upon the
high seas than the captains of the Durbin coast.”

Amos shrugged. “They tend to be a
crusty lot, it’s true. And they sometimes make free with the
concept of free passage on the high seas, but we prefer the term
privateer
.”