The Riftwar Saga

by Raymond E. Feist

  Slowly the sun rose, moving at a steady pace, unconcerned with the conflict below. When it reached the noon position, still no signal was forthcoming. Guy wondered aloud, ‘Why do they wait?’

  Nearly a full two hours later, a faint thudding sound carried over the quiet army on the plain, to be barely heard by the defenders. It continued for almost a full half hour, then trumpets sounded along the line of attackers. Then from behind the lines odd figures loomed up against the bright blue sky. They appeared giant black spiders, or something akin. They began moving through the host, slowly, stately. Finally, they cleared the line of attackers, and approached the city. As they came closer, Arutha studied them. Questioning shouts came from along the wall, and Guy said, ‘Gods, what are they?’

  ‘Some manner of engine,’ replied Arutha. ‘Moving siege towers.’ They appeared to be gigantic boxes, three or four times the size of the ones raised against the wall the previous week. They rolled on huge wheels, without any apparent motive source, for no giant, slave, or beast of burden pulled or pushed them. They moved under their own power, by some magic means. Their immense wheels thudded loudly when rolling over irregularities in the terrain.

  ‘Catapults!’ shouted Guy, and his hand dropped.

  Stones hurled overhead, and crashed against the boxes. One was struck in a support, which shattered, causing the thing to teeter, and fall, striking the earth with a resounding crash. At least a hundred dead goblins, moredhel, and humans were thrown clear of the crash.

  Arutha said, ‘Each one of those things must hold two, three hundred soldiers.’

  Guy counted quickly. ‘There are nineteen more coming. If one in three gains the walls, that’s fifteen hundred attackers on the wall at once. Oil and fire arrows!’ he shouted.

  The defenders sought to ignite the approaching boxes as they lumbered toward the wall, but something had been applied to the wood, and while the oil burned upon a few of the things, it only scorched and blackened the wood. Screams from within told of some damage done to the attackers by the flames, but the boxes were not halted.

  ‘All reserves to the wall! Archers to the roofs beyond the bailey! Horse companies to their stations!’

  Guy’s orders were quickly carried out as the defenders awaited the approaching boxes. The magic siege towers filled the morning air with a loud grinding sound as the heavy wheels turned ponderously. The host of Murmandamus’s army walked slowly behind the moving towers, keeping a discreet distance, for all defensive fire was directed at the rolling boxes.

  Then the first of the boxes reached the wall. The side of the box facing the wall fell forward, as had happened with the smaller ones, and dozens of goblins and moredhel came leaping forward to engage the defenders. Soon there was frenzied combat along every foot of the wall. The attackers came flooding across the plain, behind their magic siege towers. The rear of the box opened as well, with long rope ladders being tossed out, and attackers in the field behind ran forward to clamber up the suddenly accessible entrances to the city. Long leather aprons were lowered from the centre of the boxes, only a foot in front of the ladders, confounding the bow fire directed at those climbing into the boxes. The catapult commanders continued to fire, and many of Murmandamus’s soldiers died beneath the rocks, but with the archers ordered to the first row of houses and the other defenders engaged with the attackers from the towers there was no bow fire to harass the host below as they raised scaling ladders against the walls.

  Arutha engaged a moredhel who had leaped over the body of a fallen Armengarian soldier, and slashed out, causing the dark elf to stumble backward. The moredhel fell off the parapet to the stones below.

  The Prince spun about and saw Guy kill another. The Protector looked about and shouted, ‘We can’t hold them here! Pass the word to fall back to the citadel!’

  Word was passed and suddenly defenders were scrambling away from those gaining the wall from outside. A select company of soldiers held each stairway while their companions fled toward the city. They were all volunteers and all were prepared to die.

  Arutha ran across the bailey and saw the last of the defenders on the wall overwhelmed. As he reached the midway point across the large open area, attackers leaped from the stairs and headed for the gate. Suddenly a rain of arrows came from the roofs of the buildings opposite the gate and to the last the attackers died. Then Guy was at Arutha’s side, with Amos running past.

  ‘We can hold them off the gatehouse until they establish their own bowmen on the wall. Then our men will have to pull back.’ Arutha looked up and saw that planks were being extended across the streets from the roofs of the buildings facing the bailey. When the archers quit the first line of buildings, they would pull the planks after them. The goblin host would have to use rams to break in doors, climb the stairs, and then engage the bowmen in a duel. By then the bowmen would have retreated to another line of houses. They would constantly fire down into the streets, forcing the invaders to pay for every foot gained. Over the last month, hundreds of quivers of arrows had been left under oilcloth upon those rooftops, along with replacement strings and additional bows. By Arutha’s best judgment, it would cost Murmandamus no fewer than an additional two thousand casualties to travel from the first bailey to the second.

  Running toward the bailey came a squad of men with large wooden mallets. They waited before heavy barrels placed at the corners, listening for the command. For a moment it appeared they would be overwhelmed, for a sea of goblins and their allies came swarming off the walls. Then a company of horsemen swept out of a side street, rolling back the invaders.

  Arrows came flying past Guy and Arutha, and the Protector said, ‘Their archers are in place. Sound retreat!’

  A trumpet blast sounded from the squad of bowmen who were positioned halfway up the street, and the men with mallets struck the barrels, knocking small stoppers from bungs. Quickly the smell of oil mixed with the rusty odour of blood hanging in the air as the oil began slowly to leak out. The mallet-wielding soldiers at once began to race up the streets, where barrels waited at every corner.

  Guy tugged at Arutha’s sleeve. ‘To the citadel. We begin the next phase.’

  Arutha followed after Guy as the bloody house to house fighting began.

  For two hours the terrible struggle continued, while Guy and Arutha watched from the first command post atop the wall of the citadel. In the city the shouts of fighting men could be heard, and the curses and screams continued unabated. At every turn in the city a company of archers waited, so that each block gained by the invaders was over the bodies of their comrades. Murmandamus would take the outer city, but he would pay a terrible price for it. Arutha revised his estimate of Murmandamus’s casualties upward to three or four thousand soldiers to reach the inner bailey and the moat about the citadel. And he would still have to deal with the inner fortifications of Armengar.

  Arutha watched in fascination. It was beginning to become difficult to see clearly, as the sun had fallen behind the mountains and the city was in shadow. Night was only an hour or so away; still, he could make out most of what occurred. The unarmoured, nimble archers were moving from rooftop to rooftop, by means of long planks which they pulled after themselves. A few goblins attempted to climb the outside of buildings but were shot down by bow fire from other buildings. Guy studied the continuing battle with a keen eye. Arutha said, ‘This city was built for this sort of battle.’

  Guy nodded. ‘Had I to design one to bleed an opposing army, I couldn’t have done better.’ He looked hard at Arutha. ‘Armengar will fall, unless aid arrives within the next few hours. We have until tomorrow morning at the longest. But we’ll cut the bastard; we’ll hurt him badly. When he marches against Tyr-Sog, he’ll have lost a third of his army.’

  Arutha said, ‘A third? I would have said a tenth.’

  With a grin devoid of humour, Guy said, ‘Watch and you’ll see.’ The Protector of Armengar shouted to a signal man, ‘How much longer?’

  The man waved a w
hite and blue cloth toward the top of the citadel. Arutha looked up and saw an answering wave with a pair of yellow cloths. The soldier said, ‘No more than ten minutes, Protector.’

  Guy thought, then said, ‘Launch another catapult strike at the outer bailey.’ Orders were given and a shower of heavy stones was launched at the far end of the city. Softly, almost to himself, he said, ‘Let them think we’ve overextended our range, and maybe they’ll hurry to get inside.’

  Time passed slowly, and Arutha watched as the archers retreated from roof to roof. As day faded to twilight, a company of ambushers was dashing along the street, heading for the drawbridge and outer gate of the citadel’s barbican. As the first company made for the lowered bridge, another, then a third company came into view. Guy watched as the gate commander ordered it retracted. The last soldier had just set foot upon it as it began to move across the moat. From the rooftops of the city more Armengarian archers fired down upon the invaders.

  Arutha said, ‘They are brave, to stay behind.’

  Guy said, ‘Brave, yes, but they’re not planning to die.’ Even as he spoke the archers on the rooftops were reaching the last line of houses. They lowered ropes to the street level and quickly slid down. They ran toward the citadel, tossing aside weapons as they ran. From behind, attackers swarmed after them. As the attackers were halfway across the open area used as a market, bowmen upon the wall of the citadel launched a flight of arrows. The Armengarians who were fleeing ran to the edge of the moat and dove in.

  Arutha said, ‘They’ll be shot down if they try to climb the wall.’ Then he saw they didn’t surface.

  Guy smiled. ‘There are underwater tunnels into the gatehouse and other rooms contained in the wall. Our boys and girls will come up, then the entrances will be sealed.’ A particular bold group of goblins came running after and leaped into the water. ‘Even if those scum find the tunnels, they’ll not be able to open the trapdoors. They’d better be part fish.’

  Amos came from within the citadel. ‘We’ve everything ready.’

  ‘Good,’ answered Guy, regarding the top of the citadel where Armand observed the fighting in the city.

  A yellow banner was waved. ‘Ready catapults!’ shouted Guy. For a long time nothing happened; at last Guy said, ‘What is de Sevigny waiting for?’

  Amos laughed. ‘He’s watching Murmandamus leading his army through the gates, if we’re lucky, or at least waiting for another thousand or so to come inside.’

  Arutha was studying the nearest catapult, a giant mangonel, now loaded with a strange-looking assortment of barrels lashed loosely together. The barrels were similar to the small brandy casks used in inns and alehouses, holding no more than a gallon. Each bundle was composed of twenty or thirty such casks.

  Amos said, ‘The signal!’

  Arutha watched as a red banner was waved and Guy shouted, ‘Catapults! Fire!’ Along the wall a dozen of the giant catapults heaved their cargo of barrels which arched high over the roofs of the city. As they travelled, the casks spread out, so that they struck the outer bailey in a shower of wood. The crew reloaded with a speed Arutha found astonishing for in less than a minute another launch was ordered and another flight of casks was sent. While a third flight of casks was prepared, Arutha noticed smoke coming from one quarter of the city.

  Amos saw it, too, and said, ‘The little darlings are doing some of our work for us. They must have started a tidy fire to punish us for not staying around to die. It must be something of a shock to be standing next to it when it starts raining naphtha.’

  Arutha understood. As he watched, the smoke increased rapidly and began spreading along a line indicating that the entire outer bailey area was catching. ‘Those barrels at every corner?’

  Amos nodded. ‘Fifty gallons in each. The first block we broke the barrels, so it’s all over the ground from the buildings to the wall. A lot of those murderers have been traipsing about in it and will likely find their feet and legs are covered. We have barrels in every building and one on every roof. At the time the horses were taken out of the city, during the second phase of evacuation, we also halted controlling the flow of oil upward. Every basement in the city is now ready to explode. The city’s going to provide a warm reception for Murmandamus.’

  Guy signalled and the third flight of casks was sent. But the centre pair of catapults heaved stones wrapped in burning oil-soaked rags, which coursed across the sky in a fiery arc. Suddenly an entire area near the barbican in the outer wall exploded with bright light. A tower of flames rose upward, climbing higher and higher. Arutha watched. A moment later he heard a dull thump, followed quickly by a hot breeze. The flames kept rising and for the longest time seemed likely never to stop. Then they began to subside, but a tower of black smoke continued to rise, flattening out in an umbrella over the city, reflecting the orange glow of the inferno below. ‘The barbican is gone,’ said Amos. ‘We stored a few hundred barrels under the gate complex, with vents to let the flame in. They go with a bang. If we were half the distance closer to the wall, our ears would be ringing.’

  Shouts and curses sounded from the city, as the flames began to spread. The catapults continued to launch their explosive cargo into the flames. ‘Shorten the range,’ Guy ordered.

  Amos said, ‘We’ll drive them toward the citadel, so our bowmen can have some target practice with those that don’t get roasted.’

  Arutha observed the intensifying light. Another explosion came, followed quickly by another series, each echoed by a dull thud a moment later. Hot winds blew toward the citadel as spiralling towers of flames began to dance in the outer city. Again more explosions came, and from the dazzling display, it was evident a great store of the barrels had been left in strategic locations. Pounding at the ears, the dull rumbles of explosion after explosion indicated that flaming death marched rapidly from the outer bailey toward the citadel. Soon Arutha could tell the difference between a bunch of barrels igniting and a cellar explosion simply by the sound. It was, as Guy had said, a warm reception for Murmandamus.

  ‘Signal,’ said a soldier, and Guy looked up. Two red banners were being waved, now clearly seen in the blaze from the city despite the sun’s having set.

  ‘Armand’s signalling that the entire outer city is in flames,’ said Amos to Arutha. ‘Impassable. Even those Black Slayers will be crisped if they’re caught inside.’ He grinned evilly as he stroked his chin. ‘I just hope the grand high bilge-sucker himself was in a hurry to enter at the head of his army.’

  From the city came shouts of terror and anger and the sound of running feet. The flames were marching in a steady course toward the inner bailey, their progress marked by dull explosions every few minutes as barrels at each corner ignited. The heat could now be felt, even upon the wall of the citadel. Arutha said, ‘This fire storm will suck the air right out of their lungs.’

  Amos nodded. ‘We hope so.’

  Guy looked down a minute, revealing the depth of his fatigue. ‘Armand designed this final plan. He’s a bloody genius, maybe the best field commander I’ve ever had. He was to wait until it appeared as many had entered as possible. We’re going to have to attempt an escape through the mountains, so we must hurt them as much as we can.’

  But Arutha saw, behind his matter-of-fact words, the defeated look of a commander whose position is about to be lost. Arutha said, ‘You’ve conducted a masterful defence.’

  Guy only nodded, and both Arutha and Amos knew he was silently saying, It wasn’t enough.

  Now the first of the fleeing invaders came running toward the citadel, halting when they realized they were exposed to the view of those upon the wall. They crouched in the lee of the last building, as if waiting for some miracle to deliver them. The number of Murmandamus’s soldiers fleeing the flames increased as the fire continued its advance through the city. The catapults continued to feed the casks of naphtha to the fire, shortening their range every second launch so as to bring the flames closer and closer to the inner bailey. Now th
ose upon the wall of the citadel could see flames exploding upon the rooftops only a half-dozen houses away from the market, then five houses, then four. Shouting moredhel, goblins, and humans, with a scattering of trolls and giants, began to fight among themselves, for as the press of those fleeing the impossible heat continued, more were being pushed into the open. Guy said to Amos, ‘Order the archers to open fire.’

  Amos shouted the command, and Armengarian archers began to fire. Arutha watched in stunned amazement. ‘This isn’t warfare,’ he said softly. ‘It’s slaughter.’ The invaders were so crowded together at the edge of the market that any arrow that reached them struck someone. They were falling over the dead as they were continuously pushed from behind. More casks of oil were thrown and the flames continued their inexorable march toward the citadel.

  Arutha held up his hand, for the light of the conflagration was now near-blinding to look at and the heat was becoming uncomfortable. He realized how devastating it must be for those creatures at the edge of the market who were standing a hundred yards closer.

  Then more barrels exploded, and with shrieks and cries there was a general break for the citadel. Many of those who raced across the bailey were shot down, but some number of them dove in the moat. Those wearing chain mail sank as they vainly tried to remove the armour underwater, and even some in leather sank. But many cleared the surface, paddling about like dogs.

  Arutha judged a full two thousand lay dead in clear view. Another four or five thousand must have perished in the city. The Armengarian bowmen were beginning to tire so much they could hardly hit the targets clearly outlined against the flames.

  Guy said, ‘Open the pipes.’

  An odd wheezing noise was heard as oil was discharged across the water in the moat. Cries of terror filled the air as those in the water came to understand what was occurring. As flames spread out across the bailey from the now completely burned out city, flaming bales were pushed over the walls, to fall to the moat. The surface of the water exploded in blue-white flames, which danced across the churning surface. Quickly the shrieks diminished, until at last it was over.