Cry of the Newborn

by James Barclay

  The trailing enemy stones had fallen straight through the new gap and smashed into the reserve and catapults immediately behind. He saw infantry and archers lying broken in the rubble. Chaos was taking hold and the Tsardon army were coming. He could hear them chanting as they charged.

  'Sarissas to the gap,' he yelled into the mess. 'Phalanx centurions, I need you now. Archers back to the walls. Stand with me.'

  Behind him, panicked shouts filled the air. He spun around in time to see dozens of missiles crashing on to the roof of the fort. Bodies, splintered planks and pieces of carved stone were hurled into the sky in all directions. The entire back of the fort bulged under the pressure. More stones struck and it buckled out and collapsed. The noise was of an avalanche. Shorn of its support, more of the fort went with the first slide, taking a bite of the wall and rampart next to it.

  Citizens were running away from the tumbling of stone. Dust, dirt and smoke billowed into the air. Debris struck reserve onager, pitch fire and forward tenting, sweeping it aside. The whole of the roof was gone, taking its catapults with it, and every brave man and woman who had stood to the end. But the gates still held. The fort was nothing more than a cracked and weakened wall now, but to the Tsardon it represented a barrier. And every moment was precious to Gesteris.

  Already, order was being restored. Stretcher parties ran among the wounded and dying while the phalanx formed up just short of the great rent in the wall, only two hundred yards from the broken fort. Archers clustered at the gap and the stones in his remaining onagers were set with pitch fire.

  'At will,' shouted Gesteris, running to the gap. 'Let's burn those bastards before they reach us.'

  The artillery engineer nodded. Thirty arms thudded into their stays and the stones flashed away. Through the gap, Gesteris saw them fall. Tsardon shields were raised instinctively but the stones destroyed them and the men who held them. Burning rocks scattered men and drove deep into their ranks, bouncing just enough from the packed and frozen ground to keep rolling and killing. He heard the engineer bark for the winding of windlasses.

  On came the enemy. Archers began to fire through the gap. More came from the right of the breach. Answering shafts whipped through. Men fell. Arrows slammed into shields. The phalanx was ordered forwards, swordsmen came to the flanks. Archers backed away to take up new firing positions. The first Tsardon came through the gap and died on the ends of the sarissas standing three deep.

  More screams. Gesteris saw his people dashed from the ramparts a further hundred or so yards south. The rough crenellations disintegrated. Two men were struck square on by a stone. It picked them up and drove them down, smearing them on to a catapult. The weapon collapsed in a spray of blood and gore, its structure crumpling and splitting.

  Back at the gate, the Revenge were gathering. Rubble was being cleared as far as possible. He saw Kell astride her horse and Nunan talking to her. The breach by him would hold for now but the Tsardon would be moving their weapons to strike at another area of wall. Nunan and Kell knew it too.

  'You're sure about this?' asked Gesteris when he reached them.

  More burning missiles crossed the wall to land among the Tsardon infantry. More enemy rounds answered. They were aiming for the gate now. It took three or four impacts, shuddering and shaking. The walls of the fort wobbled.

  'Now or never, General,' said Kell. 'It's the best time. They've committed men forward of their artillery. If we don't get out there, we'll lose the gates.'

  'Don't let our catapults stop. We'll be out of range,' said Nunan

  'This is suicide,' said Gesteris.

  'So you said last night. But it's no better staying here. We must give you a chance to hold,' said Nunan. 'The Omniscient protect you.' 'He'd better,' said Kell.

  Gesteris nodded. They waited for the next stones to fall. The

  Omniscient looked their way just for a moment. Just two struck the gate, the rest falling short or striking the base of the walls.

  'Open the gates!' he ordered. He clasped each of their hands. 'For the Conquord and for me.'

  Kell spurred her horse and led the Revenge away to death.

  This time there would be no stopping. To turn away would be to usher in defeat and Harin would not entertain the thought. A thousand levium were riding north to distract as much of the steppe cavalry as they could. He led the rest back onto the battlefield from the north-east. Yesterday, he had lost five hundred. Today, they would fight to the last cloak.

  Already, the Tsardon had made great strides. One section of wall was just so much rubble while further south, cracks and sags were evident in two other places. They couldn't afford another breach.

  Tsardon horns sounded warning of their approach. Heads and spears turned towards them. The block formed quickly. Two hundred yards from the rear of the lines waiting to attack the gates, Harin raised his sword and swept it down. The levium broke into three sections of almost five hundred each.

  The centre drove headlong into the mass of the enemy, hoping to occupy the bulk of the spears. The left flank turned to ride along the back of them and drive into the gap vacated by the infantry already assailing the walls. Harin had the right flank. He angled down the side of the enemy at a full gallop. His archers turned in their saddles, loosing shaft after shaft into the body of the army, forcing them to raise shields. Tsardon bowmen replied. Harin hunched in his saddle.

  Ahead of him, the enemy onager arms swung up. Stones soared away. He followed their trajectory, seeing them crack into gate and wall base. Some fell short, rolling harmlessly to a stop. He blinked. The gate was opening. A smile cracked his face.

  'That is some timing,' he said.

  Riders galloped from the opening followed by infantry in strict maniple order. They moved immediately right, heading out into the field and up towards the second catapult group. The Tsardon reaction was instant. Infantry broke away. Some thousands running to their left in lines that lacked a certain discipline.

  'Levium!' he shouted, his sword up once more. They cleared the front of the standing Tsardon army, the front of which was breaking to defend its artillery. 'Sweep!'

  He circled his sword and dropped it back to his side. His reins in his left hand, he steered his horse across the front of the enemy and galloped away to the ranks of onagers. Behind him, his detachment spread wide. Riders moved in an arc to his right to come to the front of the onagers. To his left, they charged across the front of the infantry and drove in amongst them. The sound of ten thousand voices tore through the air.

  Harin kept his head low. Those to his left and right did the same. The artillery crews were turning. Some had bows in hand, others swords while a handful still worked at the windlasses. Arrows flicked by Harin's head. He came up on the first crewman, carving his sword up in an arc as he pulled his horse left. The blade chopped through the man's arm, broke his bow and dragged up his face.

  Harin's horse kept him moving left. He bore down on a helmet, blocked aside a thrust and stabbed a third man through the chest. Levium clattered by all around him, galloping through the artillery. He swung his horse about, barging an enemy from his feet. In the moment's space, he slashed at the bindings holding the cup in place and hacked through the heavy rope spring at the base of the arm.

  Not pausing, he moved on, seeing the Conquord legion spreading from the gate to tackle the enemy at the breach and take down more Tsardon weapons. But the enemy were rushing them with a huge force and the thousands at the breach would quickly prove too many in the open space.

  Harin glanced back. Tsardon had broken through his levium defence and were coming to the aid of their stricken crews. Away north and east he could see the levium deep in fighting but the way back to them was blocked. He urged his horse forwards to a fresh target. He couldn't go back so he had to go on. Everywhere, Tsardon were flooding the field now they all knew their enemy was in their midst.

  He needed to make open ground in front of the walls and he had to bring as many cloaks with him as h
e could. They were running out of time.

  Roberto could see the evidence of battle at the Neratharn border and, critically, so could the whole of his army. The days had been long and brutal. The camp followers had long since turned back to Gestern. There was to be no booty here, just mud, cold and death.

  He didn't have the time to worry that every man, woman and probably horse, hated him. His blisters were as bad as anyone's. His body ached from endless hours on the march. His knees were swollen, his armour weighed him down and his hands were frozen and useless half the time. Their boots were all hanging off by now and the rags so many had to tie to their feet were no real protection against the frostbite that stabbed at their extremities.

  Despite the urgings of Dahnishev, he refused to ride. Only those incapable of walking sat on a horse all day. His cavalry too had been ordered to stride by the infantry. Solidarity, he had said, was the key to this march. They had suffered broken wagons, broken bones and desertions. The former had been abandoned where they stopped, the latter he couldn't afford the time to worry about. And as for the human breakages, they too were left unless a friend volunteered to support them.

  Roberto knew he only held them together by a thread. He had driven them harder than even he thought possible. They were exhausted and hungry. They were angry too. But they would reach the battle a day early. It might make all the difference. His scouts said the border was still holding. He prayed it would do so through today. The distant sounds carried to them on the breeze from time to time.

  He walked the length of his army, demanding their allegiance and stoking their anger. Some snarled at him. Most were too tired to react. A few still had the strength to laugh and joke. He could kiss Davarov for that. Whatever his personal feelings, the man was a mountain of loyalty. And where he marched, the morale improved. He had even heard singing.

  Today, the snow fell hard and the wind was in their faces. Today, the march was at its worst and he could not afford for them to falter.

  'Feeling angry today?' he asked as he strode down the column, trying hard not to limp or let the pain of his blisters show on his face. 'Good. Keep it in your heart and let it burn. Hate me today? Good. Remember that hate and when we are done you can swing for me. But that is tomorrow. That is the day that we meet the Tsardon and all our hate and anger can fall on them.

  'By nightfall we will be able to smell the stink of their fear because they know we are coming. And the Conquord we save will sing of us forever. Your sleep this night will be blessed, for tomorrow when dawn comes, you will feel the blood of your enemies on your faces. And they will know what defeat tastes like.

  'March on. For when tomorrow is done, we can all dream of home.'

  Chapter 76

  848th cycle of God, 18th day of Dusasrise 15th year of the true Ascendancy

  Many of the cavalry had armed themselves with axes. As Kell led them on a charge across open ground into which the Tsardon were pouring to head her off, she hefted the uncomfortable weapon in one hand and dug her heels into her horse for greater speed. Ahead of her, the artillery crews had stopped turning their weapons and were lining up to meet the threat.

  Kell had left Nunan and the infantry well behind in her wake. For them the task was not dissimilar to that of the day before. They had to keep the Tsardon back and maintain a secure corridor if at all possible. Further south, catapults sang on freely. Stones spat into the walls. Every volley brought more damage. She feared the effects of another breach on the already stretched defence.

  Away towards Byscar along the coast, the cloud of dust that signified Roberto Del Aglios was plain for all to see. But they had no idea how close he was and neither did the Tsardon. They were gambling everything on victory today and had turned no one to face him. He could be thirty miles distant, he could be seventy, it was impossible to tell.

  Just before she surged into the onager crew in front of her, Kell looked to the north and east. Tsardon were breaking away in line order from the side of the force gathered to attack the gates. Thousands of them. Kell's heart missed a beat. This was going to have to be a quick in and out or they would be swamped. In amongst them and attacking the catapults, she saw the levium. Proud skilled riders hopelessly outnumbered but moving her way.

  Kell ran her horse straight through the flimsy barrier created by the enemy crew, her cavalry barrelling in after her. They scattered

  through the thirty heavy weapons. Kell slid off her horse and thumped her axe two-handed into the rope spring of the first catapult. She levered it out to strike again but spun at movement behind. The Tsardon's blade swept down. She took the blow on the haft of the axe. She turned the blade aside and down, then beat the back of the axe's head into the swordsman's face. He staggered back. She followed up, letting her hand slide down the haft before swinging from the waist and burying the blade in his gut.

  She put her foot against the man and levered the axe clear. Her cavalry rode by to either side, keeping her way clear, striking down enemies from the saddle. Arrows flashed away right. She heard the thud of body on ground. Turning back to the catapult, she hacked into binding, rope and metal bracket. One down.

  Kell raised her head. The enemy were close. In her immediate vision, all she could see were her own horses and the bodies of Tsardon crew. She ran to an undamaged catapult and set about it. An arrow thudded into the structure by her head. She jerked back. A lone archer was striding towards her. There was no one else close. She faced him. He nocked another arrow. Only one thing to do now. She ran at him, screaming.

  The Tsardon stretched his bow. A thrown knife took him through the neck, knocking him sideways to the ground. Kell heaved a huge sigh of relief. Hoof beats closed on her.

  'Get aboard. Time to go.'

  She looked up into the face of a levium rider flanked by two others and nodded her thanks. 'Where's my horse?' 'No time. Get up behind me now.'

  Kell caught his arm and hauled herself into the saddle. He spurred the horse and she leapt away in an arc to join a regrouping of Gatherer cloaks forward of the artillery. More than half the catapults were gone and the crew of all were scattered or dead but the Tsardon were upon them from ahead and left. She could see so many riderless horses galloping in the confusion while her remaining cavalry rode hard into the advancing lines, trying to buy more time.

  As she watched, one of the captains signalled the retreat and they broke off to make the run back. Tsardon archers had gathered and the moment the Conquord had cleared their lines, they fired. They thickened the air and fell dense among her people. Horses and men tumbled to the earth. She closed her eyes.

  'We have to protect your infantry. They're in trouble.'

  Nunan. Kell looked around the rider to the walls. Stones still fell towards the gate fort and further south. The Revenge infantry was caught in a pitched battle in which all sense of order had been lost. The Tsardon had caught them from both sides and broken the maniple order in more places than she could count.

  'They're being taken apart,' she muttered.

  'Not for long,' said the Gatherer. He wore the badge of an appros. 'Levium! Let's make these bastards understand what a cavalry charge is all about.' He held his sword high in the air. The riders came to order around him. 'Clear the breach!'

  His sword came down and the charge began. The Appros led the cavalry in a slight arc to bring them into line with the deep-laid Tsardon forces in front of the gates. They pushed to full gallop and thundered towards the enemy. Kell switched her axe to her left hand and yelled her excitement and fear. Her right hand was tucked into the belt of the Appros and she leaned out left, ready to swing.

  The Tsardon saw them coming but they were woefully late. They had only half-turned before three hundred riders tore into them. Kell let her axe scythe through them, watching ahead while bodies were beaten aside by the weight of horse and rider, or taken down with sword, lance and spear. The Appros urged his mount further and further towards the wall. It slowed in the crush of men but more levium
were striding up on both flanks.

  The Tsardon at the edges of the charge scattered aside. Kell hacked down at one caught between two mounts, splitting his helmet with her axe. The Appros signalled the turn and executed right, bringing them into the back of those still attacking the Revenge infantry.

  'Revenge to me,' shouted Kell.

  Some of them heard and saw her and the fighting intensified on the ground. From above, archers were picking their targets. The Tsardon began to break.

  'The other side,' she said. 'We need to clear the other side.'

  'Done,' said the Appros. 'Levium!'

  He turned and rode from the wall. In the confusion much of his cavalry remained deep in the fighting. They turned in ones and twos where they saw him, perhaps only seventy in all disengaging to join him. Across the field the Tsardon were coming in a wave. Overhead and south, stones fell. Four struck the wall dead centre, battering straight through it. The structure held for a moment, then collapsed forwards. Kell cursed.

  'We need to get inside,' she yelled into his ear, not sure if he could hear her in the furore that surrounded them.

  'You read my mind.'

  Horns blared across the field. The remaining Tsardon at the breach disengaged and ran. Kell thought she heard Nunan roaring for order but it was difficult to be sure. She scanned the ground and saw him. She patted the Appros on the back and slid off his horse. He nodded at her and rode on, bringing the levium between the infantry and the enemy.

  Flaming stones soared out from behind the walls, arrows described high arcs. Tsardon were scattered around the Conquord troops and were chased off or cut down. She fought her way through to Nunan, who was shouting for a retreat through the breaches. His infantry were responding.

  'Come on,' she said. 'Time to go.'

  'Lunchtime already?' he asked, smiling. 'Was it worth it?'