Duty Calls: The Reluctant War God Book 1

by Bill D. Allen

  We would first meet the army on the field of battle to the south of the castle town. If overwhelmed, we would fall back behind the safety of the city walls and the siege would begin.

  We were arranged in a classic formation of three battles. To the right stood the vanguard battle, in the middle the main battle and to the left the rearguard. Each battle of men consisted of men at arms carrying swords, the newly levied farmers and laymen armed with halberds and various specialists with such things as axes and pikes. Archers were deployed on the right and left flanks and in a “V” pattern between each battle to best cover the deadly ground in between. The knights and nobles were in the rear, of course. A reserve force ready to charge forth if needed.

  The field was criss-crossed with earthwork ditches, trenches and traps of sharpened stakes. Part of the field had been flooded to slow any advance and bog down any attempted cavalry charge to make them easy pickings for the archers.

  It was a good defensive layout. Many of the Jegu army would die this day, perhaps so many that the siege would be ineffective until winter arrived. Then, the great advantage would be with the well-provisioned city.

  But if they siege was allowed to go on too long, those in the city would starve or die of pestilence.

  The way I saw it there were two ways in which we would surely lose. One, if the army was strong and determined enough to last out the winter, and two, if they were so strong that they could break down the defensive walls quickly before winter arrived.

  Today’s battle could well mean the difference between the Jegu being able to successfully siege the city or not. If we could weaken them enough, we would have the upper hand from this day forth.

  But what of the god and his magic? I had witnessed the strange music of the herald. If this was repeated I thought I might have a way to counteract it, but what else lay is store? And what of the god himself? He had not yet been seen. What might his powers be?

  I stood near Captain Rosten who was astride a warhorse. More to be able to see rather than fight. It was important that he be able to stay abreast of the flow of the battle so that he could move his troops to better advantage.

  Above all the men, nearest the entrance to the city gate stood the king and his generals. Each general had a drummer and a flagman to send commands to the troop leaders. Certain rhythms meant certain maneuvers. I too had a role. Certain songs on the pipes meant certain commands. But also I was there for inspiration. A fighting song on the pipes could fill a man’s heart with pride, and sometimes his ears with pain if the piper were inept.

  Olo had come to me earlier. He was flustered, trying to get his scant leather armor tied on properly. He peered out from beneath the dented, over sized helmet they’d given him. It was lucky he’d found anything to wear at all.

  “I’m still worried about, Molly” he told me.

  “Don’t worry, Olo. I guarantee you that she is fine. A buddy of mine saw to her, helped her and the children relocate. Evidentially, she got into it with the tailor, must have been the close quarters and the tension of the war. He gave her some gold and sent her to stay at the inn rather than his house and now everything is fine. She’s happy and safe and so are the children. Don’t fear for them. Be strong. You’re their protector today.”

  I could see some of the worry and tension leave his face. “Thank you, Carl. I just needed to know she was all right.”

  “No problem.” I patted him on the back and tightened a buckle on his leather cuirass. “Now, let’s kill some Jegu so you can return to her a hero tonight.”

  “Aye,” he said and lifted his halberd in salute.

  “But Olo, remember to be careful. Bravery is not stupidity. Dead heroes do wives little good. Do the right thing at the right time. Sometimes it is right to withdraw so that you can fight again in strength. This is going to be a long siege and you will be needed to guard the city walls. Listen to the sergeant. Keep tight in the formations. Do not hesitate to kill. You need to come back for your wife and children. Don’t take foolish risks.”

  He nodded. “I’ll remember, Carl.”

  He stood now with the others, all in a line the steel points of their halberds glinting in the morning sun. Some were shaking with fear, some were dull with resignation, others were too stupid to be afraid. These, I knew, would die first.

  I watched along with the others as the Jegu army approached. They had marched in block formation, also arranged in three battles each with sections devoted to pike men, archers, halberdiers, swordsmen and cavalry. As they arrived, they broke formation just beyond bow range and spread out in a line so that every man would be able to participate in the fray. They outnumbered us, but not significantly.

  They were entirely silent. In fact the whole battleground was as quiet as death as the two armies faced each other.

  A group of priests arrived and stationed themselves behind the line of fighting men. A procession followed carrying the holy of holies, a golden reliquary supposedly containing Jegu.

  The reliquary was a pyramid shaped golden box, there were inscriptions across all four faces, but they were much too far away to be read, even by my enhanced perception. The cap of the pyramid was of golden and polished to a mirror shine. It was carried upon a platform of intricately carved dark wood. This platform was connected to two long poles bound in brass and was borne by four blind monks.

  As if on cue, the priests began a low, monotonous chant that cut through us all and made the ground vibrate gently. The Jegu soldiers closed their eyes and raised their faces toward the sky. They extended their hands upward, open palmed, as if receiving some boon from the heavens.

  I could see that our troops were becoming nervous.

  “What, is it raining?” I yelled. It was all I could think of at the time.

  There were some chuckles in our ranks. Without waiting for a prompt from Captain Rosten I began playing the pipes.

  It was not a war song, strictly. Actually it was more of a lively drinking song. It countered the somber, ominous tones of the Jegu priests and created a spontaneous eruption of laughter from many of the men. It broke the tension and rallied the men’s spirits.

  I glanced up from my playing to see Captain Rosten. He smiled at me and gave me a small salute.

  The song of the Jegu priests ended.

  “Come on then, you pansies! Let’s see how you fight!”

  I looked to see who had spoken and saw it was Olo with a fierce grin clutching his halberd with white knuckles. Several of the other men also starting taunting the Jegu.

  “Pig fuckers! Your god can kiss my ass!” a man said.

  “Come and get a kiss from me you sorry traitors!” a swordsman called waving bare steel.

  Cheers and taunts erupted all around me. They grabbed their privates and thumbed their noses and made a general disreputable show of it. I was proud of them. I knew well how they were actually each feeling the awful cold grip of fear deep in their guts. They were proud and true, these men, and I hoped that somehow, Jegu would fail. But the logical part of my mind, which had witnessed battles beyond number, knew that even though they stood an excellent chance in a fair fight, Jegu was not going to fight fair.

  They began their first charge.

  Our preparations proved valuable. They didn’t bother trying to send in the cavalry because the pits and barriers would be too deadly. Their horsemen had dismounted and ran toward us along with the other men at arms. A wave of screaming soldiers with the distant eyes of zealots ran toward our ranks.

  The attempts at conversion were over. The preliminaries were through. This was the beginning of the fight to the death. Either the Jegu would be stopped, or they would likely swarm over this kingdom, the next and the next.

  I played a war song, a tune that I had heard first over two hundred years before in the mountains far West of Guldon. It was a rousing song that filled the souls of those who were in earshot with a deep pride and a furor to fight on. As I played, I wove the fibers of magic and calmed the nerv
es of the men. I played to give them strength and sharp thinking. I played to help them survive. Although I refused to lie to these men and make them believe that they fought for the gods and eternal life, I’d be damned if I wouldn’t give them every edge I possibly could against the abomination of Jegu. By the time the forces clashed together, the Guldon army would be ready, eager, and dangerous.

  The archers let loose with salvo after salvo into the onrushing Jegu warriors. Their aim was true and it had great effect, but the attackers were not demoralized. They were filled with holy purpose stronger than any drug or potion.

  The armies clashed in a shock wave of sound. Steel met steel and flesh, screams of the battle-crazed blended with shrieks of the dying. I closed my eyes. A dark part of my being relished that sound. In a lifetime of lifetimes there were few moments when I felt more truly alive than in the heat of battle. My hands hungered for the feel of a blade. I wanted to rend the flesh of my enemies, to crush them and stand over their mangled corpses. My pulse beat strong in my temples. My music changed. It turned dark and vicious. The men were feeling it too, they were smiling as they slew the Jegu.

  I had opened my eyes and I witnessed the carnage. Our men hungered for blood against the Jegu warriors who cared not for their own lives. We were giving better than we got for the moment, but the battle line was slowly backing toward the city walls. The sheer weight of the Jegu and the wantonness with which they fought was beating down against the rapidly fading battle lust of our men.

  The priests started up their chanting again as the Jegu regrouped for another press. They were so organized, like a machine. Every man a cog in a wheel. This worked to their disadvantage in the short run, but it was slowly wearing us down as the battle continued. It was unnerving to fight men who did not fear death.

  I could go on. I could tell you how we withdrew in waves and of the individual acts of selfless courage that many men made to save their brothers—standing in the breech to fight to the death so that others could withdraw. But in the end, we were forced to withdraw and that is all that matters.

  Several Jegu warriors broke through the ranks and came near me. They were gifts. I did my best to slay them and not stop playing, but I must admit that I missed several notes along the way as I used one hand to whip out my sword and dispatch them and the other to keep the tune. I am a god, but I’m not perfect.

  I need much more practice on the bagpipes.

  From my vantage point I could see that Olo and his compatriots were coming under heaver attack. I saw Olo digging in his heels and bringing the head of the halberd forward to skewer one of those attackers. Olo was a natural. Even at that distance I could tell he was scared, but he wasn’t panicked. He was doing his duty. The farmer had become a warrior.

  In the end, we fell back to the city walls. The gates were closed and the portcullis lowered. We slew many who were foolish enough to follow too closely by showering them with boiling oil and lead. The siege had begun and the Jegu were the worst for it. We had decimated their army even though we were eventually forced to withdraw to our position of safety.

  Again, I felt that all things being equal, we would win. The winter approached. We had a strong army remaining to us, and we were well provisioned. God or no god, I would like to see Jegu keep back the changing of the seasons. And even mana from heaven could only feed so many for so long.

  But all things were not equal, as I soon discovered.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  It was near dusk. The battle had raged for most of the day, but now it was quiet. The Jegu had withdrawn to a distance that was safe from our archers. They then withdrew again when they realized that they could still be hit by the ballista mounted on our guard towers.

  Inaccurate, but scary as hell. Nothing like a bundle of ten foot spears shot from a hundred yards away to make you shit yourself.

  For the most part, our company was intact. We lost only thirteen men during the battle. I was grateful that Olo, Captain Rosten and even Sergeant Toger were not among the casualties.

  We moved quickly to place our fortifications against the first city wall. Civilians had already been moved back behind the secondary wall. The structures built between the two walls consisted of the more disreputable, or malodorous business such as pubs, whorehouses, tanners and smithy’s. Basically the poorer districts of town—expendable and possibly their loss could be considered a form of urban renewal. The final wall was around the inner bailey and castle keep where the royal family were protected.

  For the moment it seemed the enemy was satisfied staying where they were, and we were more than happy to let them. We had plenty to do redeploying our forces to their correct locations.

  The company was divided in to three shifts. From this time forward, there would be a constant guard set and all would be ready to respond to man the walls if the alarm sounded. If it went like other sieges I had been unfortunate enough to endure, this routine would continue for months.

  As the sun began to set, word came down from the top that we could stand down if it were not our turn for guard duty. Olo and I stripped off our blood spattered leather armor. I noticed that Olo had a fine assortment of bruises and abrasions.

  “You look like a hero, now. Molly will be impressed.”

  “Do you think so?”

  “How could she not? You have a fine woman there, Olo. A fine family too. Sally is a lovely little angel and Kip is a fine, good looking lad. I envy you.”

  The little man beamed with pride. Together we went to set up our bedrolls in our new improvised barracks. The building was a stable, and there were still horses housed in one section. Likely they would become the main course in a few weeks.

  We got cleaned up using water from the horse trough. Olo massaged the muscles of his neck. “So Carl, do you really think we’ll make it through this?”

  I lay back on a pile of hay and linked my fingers behind my head. “I don’t know, Olo. All I know is what I see. Right now, I see a well-provisioned city. A fine group of fighting men and a good cause. I think that if it’s possible to beat Jegu, we’ll do it. What I don’t know is what Jegu and his followers are truly capable of. But I figure we’ll find out before this is over.”

  Olo nodded. I noticed that he was shaking a bit. It was his first battle, the first time to see wholesale death.

  “Something else I’ve seen, Olo. I saw you on the battlefield today. You stood your ground. It’s a hard thing for a man to do. I don’t care who you are. But for a man who’s spent his life trying to make things grow, you did as well as any man I’ve ever seen at his first battle.”

  Olo sat down on the dirt floor. “It was,” he said. “Not what I expected. To hear the Sergeant and Captain talk about it, I thought it would be more—organized somehow. It all seemed like it was some crazy panicked nightmare.”

  “It’s a nightmare, all right. But like I said, you stood your ground and didn’t run when the Jegu charged. Men were dying around you. Some men ran away. Some men cried like babies. But not you. When it was time to move you moved where you were told to go. That’s being a good soldier, Olo. You’re as good a soldier as I’ve ever seen. You are doing a man’s job protecting your family.”

  Olo nodded. “But why do I feel like I am going to throw up?”

  I laughed. “Because you’re human. Some things aren’t supposed to be easy to deal with. When all the death stops bothering you, then you need to worry.”

  I took a moment to reach behind me as if into a provision sack. In reality, I was reaching into a void between world and reaching out for the object of my desire. I turned back to Olo and produced a green bottle. “So Olo, how about a sip of something to celebrate your first battle?”

  “You have wine?”

  I shook my head. “Not so much, no. Something called Irish Whiskey. I think you’ll like it.”

  I popped the cork and took a swig. Hot, smooth, lovely, liquid fire eased down my throat. It made me smile as always. I then handed the bottle over to Olo.
He took a sip, and went into a coughing spasm.

  “Oh…that is something else,” he said.

  “Aye, that it is. To you, Olo. Congratulations,” I said and took another sip.

  Just then, the trumpets sounded the call to arms. I knew it was a bad omen. The call had come too soon. There was something very wrong.

  “What is it, Carl?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know. But we’d better get ready for something bad.”

  I grabbed my sword and a shield that someone else had misplaced. Olo grabbed his halberd and his helmet and stumbled behind me trying to put the helmet on and run at the same time.

  When we arrived at the wall, I muscled a few men out of our way and took a look at what was happening to the enemy line. What I saw made me uneasy.

  From the light of enormous bonfires lit by the enemy, I could see six great carts were being brought forward, each pulled by four oxen. Upon the carts were huge blocks of dull reddish granite. Evidentially this is what they had been quarrying at their camp. But why?

  I saw no evidence of catapult, trebuchet or ballista. No siege towers or battering rams. What is the point of chipping six blocks of granite from the side of a mountain? Were they going to carve some really ugly statues and put them on our lawn to piss us off? I don’t think a few stone lawn jockey’s, donkey carts or bird baths were going to cause us any worry. But I knew Jegu had a purpose, and not knowing what it was concerned me.

  I could see that several priests were fanning out to circle each cart. They were doing something that I could not quite see, possibly they were chanting. They were moving their arms about as if concocting some magic.

  One priest walked forward to each stone. He reached out to touch each block and lines of fire began to erupt along the side of the stones. It seemed like some sort of writing scattered across the surface, but it was too far away to make out. Then each priest backed away to join the others, and together they continued whatever ritual they had started.