“Fill the pot! Once the enemy reaches the gate, start pouring and do not stop! Burn them all!” A second lieutenant yells from the entrance of the interior.
“Yes Sir!” The corporal salutes.
“You heard the man, fill the pot!” A sergeant of Tenil’s regiment hurries them.
Tenil and Oreon keep pouring the oil into the pot, bucketful at a time. The sergeant is helping them along with one other knight of their regiment.
A boulder hits the wall next to the gate. Warcries of the empire’s men can be heard outside. A rain of burning arrows is fired upon the enemy. It’s a mark for the archers inside to start firing. The second wave of arrows isn’t set in fire, as it’s pointless to waste oil for such. Burning arrows serve as a way to issue orders, that’s all. Of course, there are arcane tactics for flaming arrows, but they aren’t being used.
The archers nock arrows skillfully, firing them at once. They seek out their targets as they draw a new arrow. It is dark, but the moonlight is enough to illuminate the empire’s men thundering in the valley.
“The pot is filled, Sir!” Oreon reports to the sergeant.
“Now we wait for the enemy!”
So far none has attempted to climb the ramp. Instead, the empire’s men are carrying ladders with them, aiming to take the wall and open the gate that way. The knights appointed to defend the wall intercept them by hacking the ladders with anything they can use to cut them, and those who manage to get up there meet a quick death.
Arrows are shot from the below, and many archers get hit by them despite using the capstones as cover. One archer is skewered by the chest, and he sacrifices himself by pushing one of the ladders with his body, falling down below along with the ladders and several enemy troops.
“““...!!!!””” The battlecries of empire’s soldiers resonate in the dark of night.
The empire’s men shout the word of war, meaning ‘glory’ in Phyrian. Respectively, the kingdom’s knights shout out their own battlecry.
“Death to the empire!” An archer shouts.
“Death to the empire!!!”
“Death to the empire!”
Tenil pulls the lever, and the pot of burning oil rotates, the oil pouring down upon the enemy troops. The sizzling of burning flesh can be heard up inside the wall, screams of dying men added to the symphony. The smell is getting worse than what it has been ever since Tenil and the others arrived.
Tenil’s mind is in turmoil. By pulling the lever, she has killed humans just like that. Their suffering is greater than hers in the army. She can’t fully comprehend it, but she knows she’s committed a sin worthy of Hell.
Oreon flings a hook to pull the pot back inside, the sergeant helping him. As they are at it, more boulders strike the wall, shaking the interior, and arrows are shot at them through the opening where the pot is. Tenil’s heart skips a beat as one grazes her right cheek.
“More oil!” The corporal yells.
They all start filling the pot again, pouring a bucketful at a time. The empire’s men are hammering the gate with a light battering ram. They have to hurry, lest the gate is breached.
“Ready!” Oreon reports.
“Burn them!” The sergeant shouts.
Tenil pulls the lever again, and the men below start screaming, the sizzling reaching her ears. She’ll lose her sanity at this rate, assuming she won’t be hit by an arrow or a boulder.
“More oil!”
They fill the pot again while under the pressure of getting hit by an arrow or a boulder. Tenil and the others are sweating by the time it’s filled again, panting.
“Burn them!”
Tenil pulls the lever. Soon after that, the corporal shouts a whole new order that leaves Tenil puzzled.
“The gate has caught fire! Pour the water!”
“Sir, which lever?”
“The one with the blue gauze!”
Tenil pulls the lever, the sound of water extinguishing fire can be heard up there.
“Now pull the red one!” The corporal yells.
She does it, and the water stops flowing from the lower interior of the wall. The gate is no longer burning, but the empire’s soldiers keep coming.
“More oil, and fast!”
They fill the pot once again.
“Burn them!”
Tenil pulls the lever—and a huge boulder strikes the pot, destroying the whole apparatus. The sergeant, the corporal, and the fellow knight have died in a moment’s notice, gore spilled around the rock. The burning oil has splattered on the wall as well, and drops of it have landed on Tenil’s armor. If not for her helmet, her right eye and cheek would’ve burned.
Tenil stares at the sight in horror.
Oreon is paralyzed by fear.
The archers firing through the arrow loops aren’t shaken. They’ve seen similar things happen before, veterans as they are. Tenil and Oreon are standing still, thinking what they should do now. The empire’s men are hammering the gate with a battering ram even now.
“W-we should... report to a superior,” Tenil manages.
Oreon nods.
As Tenil needs to cross the opening in the wall, she holds her shield protectively as she sprints past the burning oil and hail of arrows. She gets to the other side safely, and she hurries out to the courtyard with Oreon. Their superior has died, so it’s their duty to look for an officer to report to.
Once in the courtyard, a sight of skewered knights lying either dead or wounded on the paving welcomes them. It’s dark, but the moonlight is enough to light the courtyard. The stray arrows that don’t hit their marks, namely the kingdom’s archers on top of the wall, are constantly raining down upon the courtyard. Messengers and reinforcements move shields held above them as they cross the opening. Tenil and Oreon do the same as they sprint through the courtyard, armors slowing down.
Tenil can feel an arrow hit the shield, a clang resonating. She’d be dead now if not for the shield, and the thought of it shakes her. Oreon’s shield is struck twice by the time they get behind the fortress. They enter the building at once.
Hundreds of unarmored knights are running around, carrying arrows, buckets, or transporting barrels of who-knows-what. Stone pillars stand on both sides, whereas a ramp slopes down right in front of Tenil and Oreon, the gate being down there, the very same one they’ve been defending with the oil pot. Five men are sweating to keep the gate intact with planks, nails, and whatever they can use. The ceiling of the interior is made of thick planks, and dust keeps falling from the gaps.
Tenil spots a knight with three white stripes on his shoulders. He is a staff sergeant, a footman at that. She hurries to him, reporting.
“Sir, the oil pot is destroyed and our superiors were killed. Orders?”
The staff sergeant yells, “Reinforce the gate! Make sure it won’t be breached!”
Tenil salutes. She jumps down to the ramp, helping the other knights with the gate. Oreon follows suit. The gate is nudged each time the battering ram on the other side hits the gate.
“If they breach the gate, you hold your ground! If we fall, the whole kingdom will!” The staff sergeant yells behind them, carrying planks for them to use.
Boom! The battering ram’s blow makes the planks creak in protest. Tenil is nailing a plank when the next blow strikes. She hits her own fingers with the hammer, and the whole gate is starting to protest, some of the planks broken.
Tenil shakes her head, wanting to deny the reality. No, Mom! I can’t let them get through!
“Push the gate! The planks won’t do! Use your bodies!” The staff sergeant commands, joining them.
They can hear the warcries of the empire’s men, valashana! Right after it, the battering ram strikes again. Tenil and the others are knocked back by the recoil, but the gate holds. They push the gate again, putting their body and spirit into the task. Should they fail, Phyr may fall.
“Hold it!” The staff sergeant shouts.
The warcries can be heard, and the batt
ering ram strikes again, and for the last time. The gate is breached, the big double doors slamming open.
“Death to the empire!” The superior yells, holding his sword high.
““Truin uelta!”” The empire’s men flood in, roaring.
The veteran footmen are the first to swing their swords and spill blood. Oreon enters the fray as well, blocking a blade and stabbing the enemy soldier. Tenil follows him with a battlecry, saving the superior’s life by beheading an enemy footman who is about to kill the staff sergeant. The head rolls down the ramp, blood gushing from the neck.
“To the gate! Everyone to arms! Hold the gate!” A man in black plate armor with white stripes on his shoulders commands. He is the colonel.
Each and every knight in the hall enters the fray, roaring their battlecries. Tenil gets a wound to her right arm, a deep scratch. She falls back, almost stumbling, but a knight behind her helps her stand straight. She won’t relent, however. She shakes off the one behind her and dives back into the fray.
“Die!” Tenil cries loud, stabbing her sword into an enemy soldier’s heart.
The skirmish at the gate rages on for an hour, and the pile of corpses keeps growing, the staff sergeant somewhere beneath it along with many others. Tenil still fights on, dyed red thoroughly. She has found her battle trance, and she can’t think of anything else but killing the empire’s soldiers, a single word reverberating in her mind: Mom.
***
Dawn has come, the empire is retreating. The kingdom has lost 600 knights overnight. 1,400 reinforced the fortress yesterday, and only 900 were defending the wall before their arrival. Originally, there had been 4,000 men, but the constant fighting has taken its toll. Not just that, 5,000 had come from the brigade of Ergol in South when the regiments of Ivymn were still under training, meaning 8,100 have died defending.
Tenil is on her knees on top of the mountain of bodies, sword and shield clenched tight. Her back is somewhat clean, but her front is as bloodied as it can get. The others who’ve been defending the gate beside Tenil are staring at the horizon, witnessing the enemy retreat.
“The guardian of the gate,” Someone blurts behind Tenil, pointing at her all the while.
“Aye, a bloody guardian.”
Tenil turns around, face devoid of any hint of emotion. She’s slain many, and she can’t understand the deed. Even now, she is trying to comprehend it, the act of killing so many. But for some reason, her mind is blank. She can’t think properly.
“Bloody well done, lad!” The colonel places his hand on her left shoulder. “What’s your name?”
“Tenil, Sir.”
Some of the knights start laughing, but those few who know her do not. They’re awed instead.
“She is a girl,” Oreon points out.
Their gazes shift on him for a moment, until they shift back to Tenil. Now that they’re looking at her while knowing she isn’t male, they can see it’s true. She looks boyish, but girly enough.
“A girl in my fortress!? What’s the meaning of this!?” The colonel is infuriated.
“Sir, the general of Ivymn allowed it,” Tenil says.
“On what basis!?” The colonel demands.
“She was conscripted by accident, and she decided to stay in the end despite the chance to go back home,” one of her comrades from Ivymn explains.
“Whatever,” the colonel says that as he digs for something in his pockets. He pulls out a white chalk and draws one stripe to both of Tenil’s shoulders. “I’ve promoted you to a corporal.”
An archer is trying to get past all the knights gathering in the hall, almost tripping on his way. Once he gets through, he jumps down to the ramp. “Is it really you, Tenil?” He asks.
Tenil exclaims. “Dad!?”
The archer with a beard and short hair climbs up the pile of corpses, embracing the bloodied guardian of the gate. “It really is you!”
The colonel excuses himself and walks away, attending to matters more important. The other knights are also becoming disinterested.
“Why are you here?” Her father asks.
“I was mistaken for a boy. They took me and put Mom in prison. She is free now, though.”
“They didn’t let you go?”
Tenil’s statement shakes her father. “I chose to stay.” She is relieved to know her father lives, tears streaming down her dyed face. “I’m glad you are alive, Dad.”
“And I’m glad to know you’re well, but I’m also horrified. Why did you come here?” Her father pulls away to see his daughter’s face.
“I want to protect Mom. The weak needs to be protected.”
“But who protects you?”
“No one,” Tenil answers. “No one but me.”
In a matter of weeks, Tenil has outranked her father, killed more than he, and earned war merits he’ll never accomplish. What will she do next?
Chapter Five
She-Devil
Tenil has been sleeping inside the wall for six hours. She’d sleep longer, but the uncomfortable floor is anything but ideal, and the stench is getting worse. She has washed her face and most of the armor, but she still has bloodstains here and there. Also, her wounds have been tended to, hence her bandages.
The bodies are being collected by a group of unarmed old men who work for the army. They use a cart to move the corpses, but despite that, they haven’t gotten to the wall’s interior just yet. The sergeant, the corporal, and the fellow knight are still under the boulder, squeezed. Not just that, they can’t move the boulder, as it’s too heavy to lift without proper tools. Also, the pot cannot be repaired anymore, for there are no spare pots left and the machinery requires a tinker.
Tenil is sickened. She tried to imagine what the battlefield would be like, but none of the images matches the truth. She thought it’d be vivid, even colorful in the brutal sense, but now that she’s witnessed it, it’s anything but vivid; everything around her feels... dead. The blood on the walls, the archers, the valley, everything is gray. It’s as if the world had lost its color.
Or it could be Tenil is losing her mind.
Suddenly, someone enters the wall’s interior. “Everyone, to the courtyard! The colonel will issue a new order!”
Tenil, Oreon, and the archers turn their attention to him. Soon after, they all stand up, heading outside. What will it be? Has the marshal sent a royal command? Whatever it may be, Tenil doesn’t care as long as she gets away from the stench.
Everyone is gathering in the courtyard, the colonel standing at the entrance of the citadel. Since the whole fortress needs to know the new order, it’s a large-scale one. The tension is growing in the crowd.
The colonel speaks up. “We are retreating!”
The knights of the kingdom listen carefully.
“We have only two ballistae remaining, and our arrow reserves are almost depleted. The gate is unrepairable due to the pile of corpses and the damage done to the gate itself. We can’t hold this wall anymore, and thus I order a retreat! However! We need a small group to hold the line until our main force has retreated. I’ll be choosing two hundred based on capability, and you are to defend this fortress with whatever means necessary! The kingdom’s future hangs in the balance!”
In less than half an hour, the 200 knights are chosen and the rest are getting ready to retreat. Within an hour, the main body is outside, and the ones left behind to stall for time are on the wall, fifty inside the citadel.
Tenil is among them. Their highest ranking superior is a staff sergeant, their ranks consisting of footmen for the most part. They have thirty archers with them, stationed inside the fortress on the third floor. They’ve taken their arrow reserves up there.
Tenil is down in the hall, standing before the gate with twenty others. They’re piling the corpses so that the entrance becomes thinner. That way, the enemy soldiers can’t outnumber them. The men on the wall are devising tactics of their own to hold the line for as long as possible. They’ve barred the paths from the Nor
thern and Southern wall so that if the enemy uses ladders on either side, they won’t get anywhere unless they bring battering rams up there. As such, the outnumbered knights need to defend only a small portion of the wall.
A storm is brewing as they prepare to defend from the coming tide. The Sun is still above, but the enemy now knows their main body has retreated, and thus they do not need to wait for the dark of night. The empire’s scouts are known for their keen eyes. The retreat was exposed the moment it was issued.
Thunder roars, and heavy rain hammers the stone. The enemy army is moving, expecting to take over the fortress in a quarter of an hour. Tenil clenches her sword tightly, grimacing. Oreon was lucky enough to retreat. His malicious grin is stuck to Tenil’s retina, the face that knew Tenil would die.
I can’t die here, I can’t!
Noise can be heard from the valley. Tenil can’t see anything just yet, but the enemy soldiers are certainly coming. The only advantage she has is the thin entrance.
Dad...
The worst part about the retreat is that her father isn’t with her; he was appointed as a scout, and couldn’t beg his way to Tenil’s side, or at least swap places with her. The superiors said the ‘Guardian of the Gate’ is the best pair of hands in the whole fortress. She’ll become a martyr, most likely.
Cries of death can be heard, the archers have begun firing upon spotting the enemy. Very soon, they’ll flood the gate. Tenil’s heart throbs rapidly. Thunder flashes in the distance, casting the shadow of the enemy. There are thousands of them.
They’re running up the ramp, bellowing as one prominent voice. Tenil can see them, the drenched armors reflecting the flashes of the thunder outside. She takes a stance, holding her shield upfront, sword ready to strike. The others by her side are doing the same, sweating.
“Death to the empire!” Tenil shouts.
“““Death to the empire!””” The others follow suit.
The empire’s men roar as a response.
The two forces clash, the sound of swords and shields colliding resonates at the gate. Tenil blocks an axe with her shield, aims at an opening in the armor, and stabs her sword accurately. She doesn’t have time to pull the blade out, hence she picks the axe, hurling it at a man threatening to kill her. She then lets her allies take over for a few seconds, pulling the sword off the corpse.
Languished Life Page 5