Cry of the Newborn

by James Barclay

  Kell looked back over the battlefield. The Tsardon advance was deliberate rather than a charge. More stones flew at gate fort and walls. Lessened considerably but still too many.

  'I don't know,' she said. 'But whatever, we've brought them onto us for the final act.'

  'Best we're ready for them then.'

  Nunan bellowed his order once more and raced in through the twenty-yard breach with Kell and the levium hard on his heels.

  The silence was difficult to bear. After hours at a volume that could draw blood from the ears, the quiet hurt, leaving them with a buzzing that would not die. The Tsardon catapults were halted and drawn back. Their army stopped out of arrow and artillery range. Remnants of the levium from the fighting further east rode around them unopposed. And now a party of three was advancing under a parley flag.

  'Why didn't they just come at us?' asked Kell. 'Because they are scared we might hold out,' said the levium Appros who had introduced himself as Harin. 'We've lost two-thirds of the levium muster out there but the steppe cavalry are almost gone and the back of their lines has taken a fearful battering. We've hurt them this morning.' 'Not badly enough.'

  Kell looked down from their vantage point on the walls and over the masses gathered before them. They had come with ladders, grapples and a battering ram for the gates. There would be no stopping it once it had started. Behind her, preparations were feverish. Sarissa maniples had been formed at the breaches. Archer companies were under independent control for fast deployment and every hastati maniple that remained was sprinkled with principes and triarii. This was not a time when a single citizen could afford to turn and run.

  Even with the welcome addition of the levium, they were still outnumbered at least two if not three to one. Poor odds.

  'If only they knew they just had to tap on the gates to bring them down,' said Gesteris, pointing at the battering ram. He was adjusting his armour and uniform, trying to hide the rips and stains.

  'We won't stop them coming through for long. The surrounds are unstable.'

  'Well, at least they don't know that. Come on Kell, Nunan. You too, Appros. A cloak might just give them a little more pause.'

  Gesteris led them down a ladder and out through the main breach in the walls. Above them, legionaries cheered and hooted. Gesteris waved back at them. Ahead, the three Tsardon had stopped. In the centre, the commander stood with a hand on the pommel of his sword. His armour shone in the grey light of early afternoon. He was clean-shaven and approaching middle age. Either side of him, his men were proud of bearing and wore identical insignia.

  'Ah, the one-eyed general,' said the commander in thickly accented Estorean.

  Gesteris inclined his head. 'I'm a busy man. State your business.'

  The Tsardon raised his eyebrows but his smile did not falter. 'The battle is lost. Your army fights bravely and dies in its thousands. As does mine. But we are the far greater force. There is no need for further bloodshed. The outcome is already certain.'

  'Is it? How interesting. Perhaps we could discuss it for a few hours.'

  'You are a busy man.'

  Gesteris smiled tightly in turn. 'You and I both know the real situation. The difference is that I am not having to lie to my legions. There is an army coming to relieve us this coming dusk and you have no confidence in breaking us before they arrive. And I have no confidence in you, either. I will never surrender to you. This is Conquord territory and so it shall remain.'

  ‘I beat you at Scintarit, I will beat you here,' said the commander.

  'That remains to be seen. One thing.' Gesteris relaxed just a little. 'That song your people sing. It has touched us all. We respect you for it.'

  The commander nodded, a sadness in his eyes. 'We sing it for our enemies too. War tears the heart from all of us. It is what makes your decision so tragic. When I return to my army and you to yours, thousands more will die.'

  'We will defend our country to the last citizen. Your song is your way, this is ours. You will never break the Conquord.'

  The commander walked away. Gesteris did the same.

  'The end game,' he said.

  'This evening, you say, General,' said Nunan. ‘I thought we weren't lying to our people.'

  Gesteris chuckled and clapped him on the back. 'That depends on your definition of lying. I prefer to call it estimation.'

  'Let's hope it's one of your better ones.'

  'Only one way to find out, isn't there?'

  They stepped through the breach in the wall. Tsardon horns sounded.

  'Exchequer!'

  The call came from amidships. The weather had been clearing throughout the morning and they had caught distant glimpses of the Estorean coast through the thinning mist. The wind strength had dropped and the oars were beating time through the gentle swell once more. The sail was still deployed but the skipper was keeping an eye on it lest it start acting as a brake to their progress.

  Jhered hurried forward from his position at the tiller. Lookouts were positioned at four points around the deck, scanning for the enemy. Apparently, they had been spotted.

  'East-south-east, sir. Sails. Plenty of them.'

  The sailor handed Jhered his magnifier and directed his gaze.

  Jhered found the horizon and scanned left to right. There they were. Looming out of the mist and bearing down on the heart of the Conquord. It was difficult to gauge how many there were. Dozens he could see, and that probably equated to a force well into three figures.

  'What's your assessment. Speed, direction, landfall.'

  'They are heading straight for Estorr, Lord Jhered. They're under sail so presumably enjoying the back of the weather we had this morning. We're converging. I wouldn't like to say who will make the harbour first. It's that close in my estimation.'

  Jhered irritated at his top lip with his teeth. 'Nothing from the south and south-east, no?'

  'Not so far, sir.'

  'Damn it, where are the Ocetanas?' He turned to the stern. 'Arducius! Someone get me Arducius. And any other Ascendant who needs some fresh air. And the rest of you, keep looking for our fleet. They've got to be out there somewhere.'

  He waited, tapping impatiently on the rail, until the Ascendants appeared. He was particularly happy to see Ossacer. Their talk earlier in the day had given him great satisfaction.

  'Can we see them yet?' asked Arducius, the excitement in his eyes.

  ‘Indeed we can,' said Jhered. 'You can see them in the magnifier. Soon you'll be able to without it as well. They are on intercept with us for Estorr harbour. Take a look.'

  Arducius did. Jhered could see him tense when he found them under the lookout's direction. He handed the magnifier to Kovan who had followed them up.

  'There's a lot of them.'

  'Yes,' said Jhered. i need them stopped. Not sunk necessarily but made to turn back.'

  Arducius looked at him askance, i know but—'

  '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 s
top 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 wa
ve 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.'