'Now would be a good time. We have to give the Ocetanas the hours to make it up the coast, assuming they're coming at all. If they're still blockaded, we're all dead anyway.'
'They're a long way away,' said Arducius.
'Yes, and I want them to stay that way. But by dawn tomorrow, they will be practically alongside unless we do something about it.'
'No, you don't understand. I can't send a gale or a storm or whatever it is you think you want that far away. Look what happened on the plains. It was at our outer limit and that was much nearer than those ships. Even then, we couldn't control what happened to the energies and we all saw the result.'
'Absolutely, and I'm sorry, Ossacer, but you aren't talking to a man who much cares whether your storm gets out of hand. In fact, that might be a very good thing.' Jhered felt a little frustrated.
'It's complex,' said Ossacer quietly. 'It could work against us.'
Jhered sighed. 'So try me. I am not altogether stupid.'
'Well, wind and weather energies aren't like those in trees or plants, not really. With those, if we stop feeding and amplifying, the effect just ceases. But with a storm, once it is created, it must be tightly controlled and then allowed to bleed away under control. If it is just set loose, it becomes a random weather pattern.
'And that means it might simply dissipate in the face of clashing natural energies or it might feed on them and develop into something far more powerful than we first created.'
'The problem being?' asked Jhered.
'That it isn't under our control,' said Ossacer, as if that should have been the most obvious thing in the world. 'So it might turn and come for us. Weather's like that. It's random and difficult.'
'Don't patronise me, young man. And don't take me for a fool either. For one thing, Arducius can predict the weather. That's why we've made such good time on this crossing. And for another, if he detected the storm turning, you simply harness the energies as I know you can and drain it away. Is that not so?'
There was a satisfying silence. Jhered waited for a time for someone to respond.
'So, what's the real problem?'
Arducius shifted and Ossacer looked at the deck timbers, a reflex reaction from his sighted days.
'There are only three of us now,' said Arducius. 'We can't ask Ossie to channel energy for me because we all know what might happen. And if I've invested so much in creating a storm strong enough to cause them trouble so far away, I don't know if I would have the strength to diffuse it if it came back, even with Mirron. But I'll try if you want me too.'
Jhered breathed out through a smile. His frustration was borne away on a wave of fatherly pride.
'You lot,' he said. 'Don't hide such fears from me. You know me
well enough now. This doesn't mean I'm going to blame any of you because you think you might fail. And I respect your knowledge of your abilities and your strength. If there's nothing we can do, then so be it. We just have to find another way to do what must be done. Let's see how close they get to us through the afternoon but if there is a Work you can do today, we can't leave it too late or you'll be in no condition to do anything tomorrow. Go on, get on with you to whatever you want to do. But do one thing for me; think about when you can act and using what, all right?'
He ruffled Ossacer's hair and watched them walk away. He turned back to the rail and put his head in his hands.
'We had to put them out of the game and we had to do it now,' he said.
'But surely the closer the enemy gets the more accurate we can be,' said Kovan.
'No, you don't understand.' Jhered lifted his head and looked at the young Vasselis. 'Only if we're very lucky will the first ships we see from the south be Conquord ships. If they aren't we have to face the fact that no help will be coming soon enough from the Ocetanas. Two fleets, two directions? I don't care how clever a Wind Harker Arducius is, he simply won't be able to stop them all.'
Chapter 77
848th
cycle
of
God,
18th
day
of
Dusasrise 15th
year
of
the
true
Ascendancy
Still they held the gates. They'd used their shields, slabs of stone, breastplates, anything that could be leant against the shivering doors and gate frame, for that was all that was left of the fort in reality. He had archers braving the danger of the frame to shoot down enemy after enemy operating the battering ram. He had citizens lining the broken walls next to the fort to throw rock, spear and fire shaft down on the attackers.
The Tsardon had wheeled up a simple construction. Three tree trunks strengthened with steel rods, bound with steel sheeting and capped with a conical steel casing, suspended from a wheeled frame at two points, allowing it to be heaved back and swung in with significant force by a relatively small crew. Kell was standing by with a detachment of cavalry composed of the Revenge and Harin's levium to deal with a breakthrough.
The Tsardon had attacked on a wide front, expecting to overwhelm the defenders but had found them more tenacious. They had flooded forwards under their shield shell, heedless of arrow and onager, to attack the walls with ladders and grapples for climbing, and with hammer and axe to break through at the root.
Gesteris strode down the front of his reserve and behind his archers. His standard bearer was at his shoulder, horn and flagmen in his wake. He could feel the nerves picking at every citizen and he kept his bearing confident. Up on the rampart, the fighting was continuing in cycles as it had for the past two hours. Ladders hit the walls. Beside them, archers fired up, hoping to keep back defending bowmen. Lines of Conquord citizens maintained a barrage of shafts
and rocks while teams chopped at ladder stays or pushed them away with long split poles.
Inevitably, the enemy would gain a foothold somewhere but it was always brief. The narrowness of the rampart worked in Gesteris's favour, and beneath it his archers could pick out targets which were framed by the sky. The death toll was rising fast on both sides. He came across Nunan, fresh from leading a push against a determined ladder attack. The Master of Sword was bloodied but energised, directing the attack in one of three designated zones.
'How are we faring?' Gesteris had to shout to make himself heard above the thundering noise of voices, weapons and the hammering at the base of the walls.
'The ramparts are all right but only just. We can't get enough fire down to the miners below. We're out of oil and we're losing too many leaning out to drop rocks. They're just being picked off.'
'Suggestions?'
Nunan's grimed face stared back at him. His eyes were bright in the mid-afternoon light. 'General, we just have to be ready for them to come through. They're attacking the wall in two dozen places at least. We'll struggle to contain them when they start making holes. Just pray the gate holds a little longer too. That's a huge area.'
Gesteris looked down to the main breach in the wall. The fighting was as intense there as it had been since this phase of the battle began. The phalanx was holding but the pressure of enemies from without was starting to tell. His citizens were exhausted. Inch by inch, they were being pushed back.
'Keep enough down there at the flanks to stop them forcing their way round. Archers to the angle as well. Start cycling your legionaries, Pavel. And pray Roberto is coming here at a run.'
There were two hours of daylight left. Gesteris wondered if the Tsardon would stop. Somehow, he didn't think so.
'Something else you need to be aware of, General. We're running short of arrows.'
Gesteris cursed. 'Then tell your people to make every one count. We cannot let them get free run up their ladders. Go.'
The general watched Nunan turn back to the battle. A fine man, a brave man. A concerted shout from the rampart took his attention. Archers were pointing out into the field. For a brief moment, Gesteris's heart leapt at the thought that Roberto had reached them.
But it wasn't that. There was brightness like lanterns in the sky. Flaming onager stones traced their arcs.
Ignoring the risk to his own men, the Tsardon commander was firing the inaccurate pitch-covered rounds. Gesteris watched them come in, hypnotised. Twenty, thirty, forty of them in three waves. Probably every piece that was available to them was back in use.
Over the wall came the first wave, dropping steeply. Panic gripped the standing reserve. Citizens scattered. Not nearly fast enough. The stones smashed down in their midst, scattering fire. The terrible crump of impact shook Gesteris. Legionaries dashed to the ground. Others broken, torn and twisted, hurled to lie dead at the feet of friends.
The second wave struck. Stones collided with the top of the wall, battering through the rough battlements, destroying Conquord and Tsardon fighter alike. With an echoing detonation, part of the wall five feet below the top burst inwards carrying with it the remnants of a ladder and those who had been climbing it. The debris fell into the cleared space behind the walls only ten yards from the breach. He saw men in the phalanx look around nervously. He started towards them.
'Face forwards,' he ordered while behind him, the screaming of the wounded filled his ears. 'Don't falter. Don't—'
The third wave pounded down. Half the stones fell among the Tsardon fighting at the breach or rattled the timbers either side. But not all. Two rounds rolled lazily down from the grey sky and all Gesteris could do was watch them bowl into the centre of the phalanx.
The shield defence so effective against arrow and spear was as paper to a two-talent stone. Hideous memories of Scintarit crowded his mind as his men were tossed aside, struck afire or simply crushed to nothing. The front and centre of the phalanx collapsed backwards. Sarissa tips were raised and the waiting Tsardon, those not slaughtered by their own artillery, surged into the gap.
'Get those damn catapults firing double time!' he yelled at his engineer, already running towards the enemy pouring inside his walls.
Arrows and spears thronged overhead the Tsardon, driving his phalanx further and further into disarray. Men and women backed over the dismembered smouldering corpses of their friends under the pressure of the enemy. Around the flanks of the breach, Nunan's people mounted a counterattack. Tsardon spilled in faster and faster.
'To me,' shouted Gesteris, his voice tiny in the tumult but his standard a beacon for order. 'To the General.'
He ran into the fight, chopping down overhead through the shoulder of a Tsardon archer. He stepped up and thrust his shield straight out into the face of another and stabbed his gladius out right, feeling it glance off a metal breastplate. Extraordinarii and legion reserve filled in around him. The centurion commanding the phalanx bellowed for order and courage. Sarissa tips began to level once again. Faces were turned back to the battle.
But the enemy was in the ascendant here at the walls. Archers clustered behind their sword line, firing overhead into those coming into bolster the defence. His bowmen responded. Tsardon and Conquord swordsman fell in their dozens. Gesteris smashed his shield up under the chin of a man wearing Conquord armour but the insignia of rebel Atreska. He spat on him and stepped back.
'I need order. I need a battle line. Discipline, Conquord.'
Temporarily, at least, that order was lost. Tsardon fought deep into the phalanx, cutting their way through the legionaries hampered by their unwieldy weapons. He had to get them out of there.
'Levium, for the Exchequer!'
Gesteris grunted his satisfaction. Harin. From the left of the breach, they came in. A line of thirty facing and at least eight deep. Infantry shields taken from the dead formed the wall and Gesteris could see the glint of sharpened blades. The Gatherers ran into the side of the Tsardon incursion.
Gesteris saw Harin's intention. The rear ranks held shields above their heads against the bows turned on them while the left-hand end of the line pivoted around the right, closing the gap pace by pace. He called his extraordinarii to him and moved back into the attack, using his shield to force a way through the determined Tsardon infantry. He stepped in front of a frightened hastati sarissa-bearer and shoved an attacker back.
'Get out of here,' he shouted over his shoulder. 'Back to the reserve and regroup. Go.'
The Tsardon came on again. Gesteris caught a blade on the top of his shield. The edge bit deep. Gesteris pulled back sharply, dragging the enemy forward. His gladius was waiting and drove clear through the man's stomach. He gurgled and collapsed, pulling his sword down with him. Gesteris moved further in, his guard around him, taking up his lead.
They fought their way into the centre of the phalanx. Gesteris punched out again and again with his shield, beating the enemy back. To his right, the levium swung inexorably towards them. Harin was at their centre, directing the move. The Tsardon backed away in front of them, unable to break through the line of cloaks. Gesteris herded more and more of the phalanx out of the way.
He caught Harin's eye. The Appros motioned him back. Levium arrows shot through their lines, felling more enemy. They began to retreat. The thud of an arrow reminded Gesteris to keep his shield in front of his body. This time, they would close the gap but the Tsardon would come on again. He feared their casual attitude towards their own and waited for the catapults to fire.
He didn't have to wait long. But this time, they destroyed the gate and the bulk of the levium were too far away to help.
The day was moving towards dark and Roberto had halted the army for a brief break. The cold inched into their bodies, sweat drying and chilling on their skin. Some had fires going quickly and a few would get a hot drink. For the rest, it was no more than a break to ease the agony in thigh, calf and heel. He had received word of Jhered's progress towards Estorr and it had cheered him. Their two conflicts would break at almost the same time.
Roberto moved through them as his command team would be doing, speaking words of encouragement and bolstering flagging energy and morale. There was little talk in the army and that worried him more than anything else. It spoke of a drain so complete, there was nothing left but to sit and stare. He saw the hollow look in their eyes and feared for those who dare not sit lest they could not rise to march. He knew how they felt.
The sound of a rider approaching from the west turned every head. Roberto thought he heard quiet before but not like this. It spread down the two-mile-long column like a blaze across oil. And over it, they could hear the distant roar of battle at the border.
Roberto stepped away from the column and beckoned the rider over. The woman half fell from the saddle and he could see the sweat on the animal's flanks, the froth under the tack and the tremble in its legs. He supported her and she clung on to him, forgetting herself for a moment.
'Sorry. I'm sorry, General.'
'No need,' said Roberto. 'Speak. What's going on?'
'They couldn't keep them away from the walls,' she said, gasping after every few words. 'I've ridden as fast as I could. We're maybe fifteen miles away still. No more. The defences are full of holes. The enemy won't stop at nightfall. They know we are coming.'
'Is anyone turned to face us?'
'Nothing significant.'
Roberto nodded. 'Report to the surgeons. Get on a cart and have a rest. You've done well.' 'Thank you, General.'
He released her into the care of some legionaries.
'This means we'll have to fight before we rest, doesn't it, General?'
Roberto pursed his lips and nodded. 'I'm afraid so, centurion. Where's Davarov, where is my Master of Sword?'
'Right here, General,' said Davarov who had been trotting up the column.
Roberto couldn't help but smile. 'Is there no end to your energy?'
Davarov drew to a halt and threw his arms around the shoulders of the two nearest legionaries. 'No. And I will carry these men to the battle if I have to.'
A ragged cheer went up and Roberto beckoned Davarov away from the line to speak to him privately.
'I need a declaration taken the length of the column.' He wiped a hand across his brow. 'This is difficult. We have to go faster. And we have to fight the moment we arrive. Neratharn's defence is on the verge of falling.'
Davarov stared at him. 'Faster? These citizens have nothing left.'
'They have to find it. Five miles an hour for three hours and then a battle. I'll be leading them in. The cavalry will form the vanguard when we get close. It has to be this way, old friend, or all our sores and blisters will have been borne for nothing. Every man and woman that has died on the march will have been a life wasted. I can't have that.'
'All right,' said Davarov. 'I'll put the word through the triarii. One last march.'
Roberto put a hand on Davarov's shoulder and nodded. 'One last march. And Davarov, earlier on in the march, I was wrong about you. I'm sorry.'
'No, General, you were right. Sometimes even old soldiers need new eyes to see the true path.' 'Very profound.'
'Let's hope I can be as profound with the legion.'
The Tsardon came through the gate on a wave of triumphant song. Underfoot were rubble, broken gates and the bodies, split and mangled, of too many Conquord soldiers. Kell calmed her horse, dragged her own eyes from the tumbling burning stones that had dashed their defence aside, and sounded the charge. Horns behind her brought the levium on behind her. A few standing archers sent arrows in ahead of her.
For a moment, it worked. The Tsardon had not formed a coherent line and the cavalry burst through them. Every strike seemed to find a target. Kell whipped her sword down, ripping through the back of an enemy helmet. She dragged the blade up and into the chest of a second. She pulled it clear and beat the pommel down on the head of a third. Her cavalry surrounded her and they scattered the Tsardon backwards.
But beyond the gate the density of enemy was so great. The brief charge slowed and even with the levium flowing easily around the flanks to drive them further backwards or be caught in a net of horse flesh and steel, it faltered. Kell wheeled to withdraw, her cavalry reading her action and trying to follow. The Tsardon poured back behind her and there were not enough Conquord infantry to stop them.
She found herself hounded by the enemy on both sides. She hacked left and then right, keeping them at weapon's length while she forced her way back through the gates to regroup for another charge. Behind her, the numbers overwhelmed the riders. Tsardon hacked at leg of man and beast alike, bringing them to ground. Kell yelled in frustration and sought a centurion.
'Get your maniple out there. I've got to have foot soldiers or we'll be swept aside. Go, I'll support you.'