Dawn of Empire es-1

by Sam Barone

  In front of him Esk kar saw a man and a woman struggling to push back a ladder. He added his weight to the forked stick and the ladder moved slowly vertical, then toppled backward. As Esk kar moved closer to the edge an arrow rattled off his copper helmet. Barbarian archers stood below, waiting to shoot at any target that appeared on the walls. He looked at the man and woman, their eyes wide with fright, and grinned at them.

  “Rocks! Rocks!”

  All along the parapet, the same command rang out. The villagers dropped their axes and sticks and began tossing the hoard of stones over the wall. The rounded river rocks, about the size of a melon, made a deadly missile. They were heavy enough, and with fifteen feet to fall, dealt a blow that could snap an arm or crack a skull. For those at the bottom of the ditch, which gave the stones an extra ten feet, the rocks would crush a skull even inside a helmet.

  The rain of stones provided yet one more shock to the attackers, struggling in the mud that hampered their movements and now trying to dodge the deadly rain from above.

  Of all the practice drills the villagers had conducted, stone — tossing had been the most physically demanding. The men had trained to throw the stones in a random pattern, but always to try and drop them close to the base of the wall. It had been exhausting, backbreaking work, fi rst to place the stones on the wall, toss them down, then retrieve them and repeat the process. Now that effort proved its worth. In the time a man could count to sixty, more than a thousand stones rained down on the Alur Meriki.

  This new tactic stopped any attempt to climb the wall. Meanwhile, a cheer went up from Totomes and the archers, as the barbarians’ bowmen behind the carts began to move back, unaccustomed to this kind of exchange and surprised at their losses.

  Totomes’s voice rang out, ordering the villagers away from the wall.

  He ordered the rear rank to continue firing at the departing archers and moved the first rank up to the wall’s edge, so they could lean over and shoot at anything below. A few archers were struck by arrows from the men below but the rocks had disrupted the attackers and forced the men carrying ladders away from the wall, pushing them into the kneeling archers behind them. Now Esk kar’s men delivered a volley of arrows, ducked, then fired another. After the third volley, they didn’t bother to duck back down, as the barbarians began to flee. Esk kar moved forward and took a quick look, then immediately ducked his head as two arrows flew over him.

  The copper helmet made him too conspicuous. He’d have it painted brown tonight. But the quick glance had told him what he wanted to know.

  The fight would continue, but the attack against this part of the wall had failed.

  He decided to check the gate. Slipping away from the wall he swung down from the back of the rampart and let himself drop to the earth, his bodyguards following him. His horse stood ready under the rampart. A scared youth held the halter, the rope wrapped so tightly around his wrist that it took a moment to loosen it.

  Esk kar thanked the lad as he mounted and cantered toward the gate.

  The short distance made it hardly worth the trouble to mount and ride. But it looked better to arrive by horseback rather than appear out of breath by running from one place to another. At the gate he found confusion everywhere. Fire arrows still struck the mud — covered houses behind the gate, some shafts still burning harmlessly. Esk kar needed only a glance to see the fighting there had been brutal, with bodies of the dead lying beneath the rampart, most with arrows in their faces or throats.

  Smoke and the smell of burning wood floated in the air. A few men, far less than he expected, struggled with buckets of water or bundles of arrows, carrying their loads to those in the towers or standing on the gate itself.

  A boy ran up and took the halter from Esk kar as he dismounted. Moments later, the twenty men of the reserve arrived, breathing hard from the quick run. He divided the reserve force and sent half to each tower, but he climbed the steps that led to the top of the gate. Only a few men stood atop the upper rampart and these were busy pouring water over the top of the gate, trying to keep the wood wet.

  The lower rampart, only ten feet off the ground, held fewer than ten men firing arrows through tiny slits carved at the intersections of the vertical logs. The supply of rocks on both ramparts had been exhausted and no one carried replacements. He saw the other reserve force of soldiers had already been committed. He turned to find Nicar and Bantor at his shoulder, his subcommander’s arm covered with blood.

  “Where are the men bringing the stones?” he shouted before they could speak.

  “They’ve run away.” Nicar had to raise his voice to be heard over the din. “I sent for more men but they haven’t arrived yet.”

  “Get men from anywhere and have them bring stones as they come.

  Hurry!” He turned to Bantor. “Are you holding?”

  “Yes, but barely… the fires are beginning to grow. We need more water as well.” As he spoke, they heard a huge crash as something hammered against the gate.

  “If we drive them away from the base of the gate, the fi res will go out by themselves.” The gate shuddered again. Esk kar sprinted up the ladder, swinging himself onto the top rampart, shouting down for his bodyguards to find bows and follow him.

  “Archers! Get to the upper rampart.” Esk kar and his guards, plus the men still fighting, now numbered a dozen. He spaced them out along the rampart. When they were ready, Esk kar commanded, “Start from the back of the ditch. Don’t try for the ones directly beneath. We’ll take them from back to front… Ready… loose.”

  The archers rose over the wall. Instead of one or two bowmen being the targets of many warriors, it was a line of archers who fired their arrows and ducked immediately back below the crest of the gate. The effect of the volley fire might not be impressive, but at least the archers, firing together, knew they would not be singled out. That gave them courage and at Esk kar’s command they launched another volley. “Again!” The rain of arrows at such close range proved deadly to the attackers.

  Esk kar glanced at the walls on each side of him. The men from the towers and the adjacent areas of the wall still exchanged shafts with the remaining barbarian archers across the ditch. If the barbarian bowmen directly below the gate could be stopped, then the men working the ram could quickly be killed. So far, it was working, four volleys fi red and not a man lost.

  Breathless men began arriving below, scooping stones from the piles, forming a human chain, and handing them up the wall. The gate shuddered regularly now, the ram’s blows starting to take effect. Soon cracks would appear. The archers continued their deadly work, but already two had been struck by enemy shafts, one pitching off the rampart. Meanwhile from across the ditch, the barbarians targeted the men atop the gate, making exposure dangerous.

  Esk kar grabbed two stones as they began to arrive. “Wait,” he shouted at the fresh men who now filled the rampart. He moved to the center of the rampart and put down one stone. He waited until a row of men was crouching beside him, all on their knees beneath the line of archers. The rampart creaked and groaned under its weight of stones and men When the archers fired their volley, Esk kar stood, one stone held in both hands. “Now!” Glancing quickly over the top of the gate, he saw at least thirty sweating barbarians handling the ram, using ropes slung underneath the giant log to swing it back and forth. He hurled the stone down and saw it strike the ram, then bounce onto the shoulder of a man, who screamed as his bones snapped. In a flash, Esk kar gathered the second stone, and sent it down as hard as he could, this time not bothering to see what effect it had. Meanwhile his archers fired another volley. A shaft from the attackers buzzed right past his ear.

  “Archers! The next volley is for the ram. Aim at those carrying the ram!

  Ready… now!” They went over the top, firing their arrows. The archer next on Esk kar’s right dropped his bow with a cry, an arrow through his upper arm. Esk kar seized the weapon and took an arrow from the man’s quiver. He’d spotted the warrior in
charge of the ram, a shield raised over his head to protect him. This time Esk kar aimed carefully before he fired, ignoring the arrows that whizzed by his face, hoping his helmet would protect him as he targeted the man directing the battering. His arrow fl ashed low into the man’s stomach, just below the shield.

  Arrows and stones rained down on the men carrying the ram and the heavy log slipped sideways and fell. Too many bearers on one side had been killed or wounded. That stopped the ramming. The barbarians would need a sizable effort to upright the ram and get it into action again. Esk kar was amazed they’d managed to wield it even that long on such uncertain footing.

  Stones kept crashing down from the gate and now villagers dropped them carefully, aiming them to fall directly at the base of the gate. In a few moments the barbarians realized their cover had disappeared and they turned and ran, staggering through the mud, easy targets for the men in the tower and the nearby walls. Moments later the ditch held only the dead and dying.

  Esk kar saw a body of horsemen arrive across the ditch and realized that they’d been coming to reinforce the attackers. If he and his men hadn’t managed to stop the ram, there would have been a hundred fresh men at the gate, more than enough to drive its archers below the wall. The warriors hesitated as they saw their comrades fleeing, and soon arrows began to strike among them. Some went bravely forward to help the men on foot, and a few paid the price for their courage.

  The barbarians had started giving ground across the entire length of the wall as Totomes’s archers fi nally swept the carts clear of enemy bowmen. Once again the Alur Meriki had to run the same gauntlet of arrows as they retreated.

  Cheers sounded everywhere across the wall, even as leaders of ten cursed their men for using their mouths not their bows. But the defenders had tired, too, so they watched gleefully as the barbarians ran back to their original position of that morning. Esk kar glanced up at the sun and saw that less than an hour had passed since the attack began. Looking out again at the ditch, he found he could scarcely see the earth, packed as it was with bodies of men and animals.

  The barbarians began to regroup under individual standards. Even half a mile away defeat and disbelief showed in their postures. The first attack a few days ago had been a probe, nothing more. But this had been a full — scale effort, and they weren’t used to being beaten in battle. Even worse, they’d had to leave many of their clan brothers lying on the earth.

  Esk kar could see a group of chiefs, their anger and frustration visible even at nearly half a mile. They argued for some time, surrounded by hundreds of dejected and weary men. Finally the standards were raised. Men turned their horses around and headed back toward the main camp. The battle had ended for today.

  Esk kar leaned heavily against the gate, breathing hard, then looked down behind him into Orak. Men and women from the village filled the space, all eyes turned upward, waiting in silence. They’d come because the fighting had ceased and they knew the enemy was moving off. Now they waited to hear the outcome.

  Wiping the sweat from his eyes, Esk kar straightened up. He knew he had to speak, that this was one of those times when words were more important than swords. Taking a deep breath he raised his voice, inwardly reviling himself as a hypocrite.

  “Men of Orak! The barbarians have been driven off for today.” His last words were drowned out in an uproar that reached all the way to the barbarian camp. Esk kar shouted out the words again, but the jubilant shouting went on, until he raised his hands to silence them.

  “We have won a battle, but the struggle is not over. They’re driven off, but they will be back! And now they’re fi lled with anger and hate, and they’ll want revenge for those we’ve slain. As long as they’re outside our walls, the danger grows each day. Return to your duties. There is still much to do.”

  That would have to satisfy them. He scrambled down from the gate, to find Gatus and Bantor waiting for him. Bantor had blood running down his arm and his eyes looked vacant as he swayed upon his feet. “Where is Maldar?” shouted Esk kar. “We almost lost the gate because the villagers ran off in fear!”

  Furious, Esk kar’s pent — up energy and frustration of the last few days rushed to the surface. The gate could have been stormed and the village captured for lack of a few stones and men to carry them.

  Neither Gatus nor Bantor spoke, so Esk kar continued shouting orders, his anger apparent to all. “Send men over the walls to gather up their ladders and weapons. And woodcutters to break up that ram and bring it inside.”

  He saw Corio pushing through the crowd. “Corio, get your men over the wall and check the gate. I saw men trying to dig underneath it, and the ram made cracks in the timbers. Make what repairs you can before dark.

  And don’t forget to recover the stones!”

  Gatus nodded and moved away, shouting orders to his men. But Bantor leaned heavily on one of the villagers and Esk kar realized his subcommander was seriously wounded. Blood dripped steadily from his neck, as well as from the ragged bandage wrapped around his upper left arm.

  Esk kar turned to his bodyguards. “Carry Bantor back to the house and find a healer for him.”

  A horseman pushed his way through the thinning crowd. Esk kar saw that it was Jalen, come from the rear gate.

  “Captain, do you need help here?” Jalen’s voice showed his concern.

  “No, not any longer. Any problems at the river?”

  “A small party of barbarians rushed the gate, but we drove them back without much trouble. Everything is secure there.”

  Esk kar nodded, still hot with emotion. “Where’s Sisuthros? And Maldar?”

  Soldiers approached him nervously and the story came out in bits, as each contributed what he knew. Sisuthros had been wounded early, an arrow striking him in the mouth. The missile had passed right through and come out in front of his ear, taking out two of his teeth. He’d been bleeding badly when they took him away.

  Maldar had taken an arrow under his right arm and passed out from loss of blood, just as his second in command had been slain. With their commanders wounded, the men had done the best they could. In the tu-mult, no one noticed when the villagers abandoned their duties and ran off.

  Esk kar stepped toward the last of his bodyguards, so enraged that the man instinctively took a step backward. “Find the men who left their posts.

  Get them and bring them to me. Every one of them! I want them all.”

  The cowards had jeopardized everything, though they’d faced little danger themselves. They had seen men die and had run off to hide in their houses or under their beds. As if that would save them. He swore they’d pay for their cowardice. He took a deep breath and tried to control himself.

  “Jalen! Take command here. Make sure the defenses are ready for another attack. Clear out the bodies from in front of the gate as well. Get the men water and food, then exchange some of them for fresh men from the other walls. Have the men change their bowstrings, get more arrows and stones… curse all the gods below, you know what to do!”

  Everyone burst into activity, any thoughts of celebrating vanished by their captain’s rage and all glad of any opportunity to move away from him. Esk kar took the time to inspect the men in both towers, keeping his anger suppressed and making sure they knew what to do and that help was on the way. When he felt the gate secure, he called out to Jalen. “Send word to Gatus that I’m going back to the house.”

  His horse still waited, the reins held by a boy of about twelve seasons.

  Esk kar swung onto the animal’s back, took the reins, then reached down and caught the boy’s arm, pulling him up in front of him. “Come with me, lad. You’ve earned a coin for doing your duty today, and I have none with me.” He kicked the horse and they cantered through the narrow streets, people scattering before him, his grim face frightening most of them into silence.

  At the house he swung down from the horse, holding the boy in his arm as if he were a child. “Stay with the horse, lad, but get him some water.
I may need him again.”

  Pushing his way into the courtyard he saw much of the space taken up with wounded. Nicar stood there, directing men and dispatching messengers. Esk kar walked into the house where he found Trella and a dozen women working with the healers. She gave him a brief smile, but went on with her work. Four wounded members of the Hawk Clan lay there, including an unconscious Maldar. Bloody bandages covered his upper body and under his arm.

  Esk kar found Sisuthros sitting on the floor, his back against the wall and his chest covered with dried blood. His mouth, jaw, and neck had all been wrapped tightly. These bandages oozed only a trace of blood, though, and the man’s eyes seemed alert enough. Sisuthros couldn’t speak, but he lifted his left hand a little when Esk kar saw him.

  Walking over to him, Esk kar took Sisuthros’s good arm gently in his hand. “You look like you’ve been wrapped for burial.” The man tried to shake his head, but the movement brought pain to his eyes. “Rest. We drove them away and the battle’s fi nished for today and probably the next few days.” Esk kar looked around. “Have you seen Bantor?”

  Sisuthros raised his hand again, pointing upstairs. Esk kar ran up the stairs to the workroom. He found Ventor there, finishing his work, assisted by Annok — sur, her lips trembling even as she helped bandage her husband, unconscious on the big table.

  Esk kar stood there a few moments until the healer stepped back and began putting his instruments into his pouch. “How is he?”

  “They pulled an arrow out of his arm,” the healer replied slowly. “That must have been early in the battle. Then another arrow went through the side of his neck.” He looked at Annok — sur. “Your husband is a lucky man.

  The arrow missed the big blood carrier.” He turned back to Esk kar. “I’ve washed the wound and bandaged it, but he’s lost much blood and his life now rests with the gods.”