“You all know what is at stake here! We do not have the time to even begin to assemble the sort of equipment needed to attack those walls. However, they do not know as such. Carl, I want you to take charge of the main force, assemble in the woods within eyesight of the gate, I want you to make it look as if you are building ladders for an assault.”
“Okay, to what end?”
“I want their attention focused on you, whilst I find a way in. With any luck they will get cocky and march out to fight you, otherwise we will do what we can to get the gate open. Either way, be ready to fight at a moment’s notice. Vesart, Ulrich and Tobias, you are with me.”
“Good luck to you,” said Carl.
“To us all!”
Carl led the men on down the main path towards the gate of the village walls. Markus led his horse north through the dense woodland with his three companions.
“You know we should wait till night for this,” Vesart said.
“In an ideal world yes, but Bull might not last that long, and we have a pressing engagement to the north, I’ll be damned if anything will stop us!”
They could hear the shouts of the Karsians ahead, responding to the sight of the force that approached them. Markus drew his horse to a halt.
“This is close enough, tie your horses here, and get your armour off.”
“Why?” Tobias asked.
“We need to be as quiet as possible approaching those walls, and have you ever climbed a rope in full armour? We take nothing but weapons and shields that can be slung about our bodies.”
“I am liking this plan less and less,” said Vesart.
“If you’ve got something better I am all ears. Anyway, I saw your man fight back in the Salbeins and you are lightning fast. You should be in your element here. So how many men do you think they have?”
“It’s hard to say, Markus, we were set upon so quickly, it all happened so fast. I remember seeing at least twenty, but their actual number could easily be twice that.”
“Nothing we can’t handle then.”
The four men pulled off their fine armour, sad to be missing it, and feeling rather naked without it. However, the substantial gain in dexterity and speed was welcome. Markus strapped his sword belt around his belt, over his arming coat.
“A crossbow could come in useful,” Tobias suggested.
“Alright, bring it along.”
Slinging his round metal shield over his back, they set off quietly towards the walls of the village. Getting ever closer to them, they could hear more and more shouting from within. The Karsians were clearly in disarray, unsure how to tackle the new threat outside their walls. This was a welcome sound to Markus. They had crept to the opposite side of the village palisade under the cover of the trees.
Looking up to the single tower in sight, there was only one guard, the walls being empty. He was leaning against the inner wall of the tower, looking over to the ruckus of the arguments between his fellow men near the main gate.
“Alright, looks like we are in the clear. Go as quickly as you can but keep quiet. When we hit that wall, we get below the tower as quickly as we can. Tobias, be ready with that crossbow, we will draw him over, you will only have one opportunity for a shot,” Markus ordered.
Tobias loaded his crossbow ready, carrying it in hand to shoot at a second’s notice.
“Let’s do this,” said Vesart.
The four men emerged from the woods hunching low as they hurried across the small amount of open ground to the walls. They watched the guard intently, praying that he would keep his attention towards the gate, or their whole mission could be compromised. Finally, they reached the wall, resting their backs against it. They breathed a sigh of relief, their pulses racing. Markus pointed towards the tower, telling them to continue on down the wall.
They crept silently along the perimeter, until finally they stood at the base of the tower where the guard was posted. Markus pulled his shield off his back, and his rondel dagger from his belt. He nodded to Tobias, signalling for him to be ready. The crossbowman turned about and shouldered the crossbow, aiming for the ledge of the tower. He nodded in readiness. Markus held his shield out and carefully beat the disc of his rondel dagger against it, loud enough to alert the guard, but out of earshot for anyone else. They heard footsteps above as the guard crossed over to their side of the tower. His hands rested on the wall as he looked out, but they could see nothing more. Then suddenly his head appeared over the ledge, looking straight down at them.
Without hesitation, Tobias released his bolt, which pierced the orc’s forehead, exactly between his eyes. He slumped over the edge of the tower, blood dripped down onto Markus’ shield. He looked at the fresh blood with both disgust and pleasure, nodding his head in admiration for the perfect timing and accuracy his man had displayed.
“Alright, ditch that, let’s get over the wall,” whispered Markus.
They took a few places to their left, as to be the opposite side of the tower to the main gate, and threw their improvised grappling hooks onto the palisade. Wolfgang had done them proud, a practical and quick thinking man. His devices did the job perfectly. Markus was the first to start climbing, the other three men following soon after. It was a far harder climb than any of them could have imagined. The weight of their weapons and shields made far more a difference to the climb than they had hoped. Vesart was finally content that he had removed his harness, now accepting the fact that he never would have made it.
Markus reached the top of the palisade and hauled himself over the wall. He quickly crawled to the side of the tower, out of sight of anyone in the village. The other men hoisted themselves over. Tobias slipped as he pulled himself over and fell to the battlement flat on his back with a loud crashing. Markus winced at the sound, praying it had gone unnoticed. He popped his head around the corner from the tower to look around, seeing if anyone had been alerted. The Karsians were still arguing among themselves, oblivious to their presence.
“No chance of getting to the gate, any great ideas?” asked Vesart.
Markus looked around, studying the village intently, trying to make some semblance of a plan. They had done a good job of sneaking over walls, but it seemed the village only had one gate, a simple and sensible defensive design. As he panned across the village, he suddenly stopped, catching a glimpse of the sun bouncing from metal. It was part of Bull’s armour.
Looking beside the armour he could see the large figure of a man tied to a small wooden structure, it was his friend, but his head was slumped down.
“There he is,” said Markus.
“Do you think he still lives?” asked Vesart.
“Of course, he can take any beating they have given him.”
Markus thought more about their plan. It was far from an ideal situation, and he had truly hoped that the Karsians would sally out to strike their main force. It seemed they were not as stupid as he had thought and hoped.
“We need a diversion, but one that looks genuine, as if it came from within the village. Here’s what we’re going to do. Tobias, Ulrich, make your way towards the gate, get as close as you can without being seen. Vesart and I will head to Bull. We will release him and any other prisoners we can to create a diversion. Once the Karsian bastards are occupied with the problem, I want you two to get the gate open.”
“And what about the time it takes for the cavalry to arrive, what are we supposed to do?” asked Ulrich.
“You’ll just have to survive, just make sure they don’t get that gate shut again.”
“How do you suggest we do that?” asked Tobias.
“Grow some balls and act like men,” replied Markus.
“That helps,” said Ulrich.
“Alight, let’s get this plan moving. Once the fighting starts, I want you to show no mercy at all, those bastards are devils, do not reason with them, do not fear them and do not pity them. Hate them with every fibre of your body and butcher them as the beasts they are!”
The
men nodded in agreement, eager to get more than their fair share of bloodshed.
They set off down the steps beside the tower, keeping low and quiet. They could see no sign of the villagers. At the base of the tower they split of into the pairs with their own tasks. Markus approached Bull’s position with caution. He expected to find at least some Karsian presence around the prisoner. Looking back, he could see Tobias and Ulrich disappear behind a small wooden house. They were well on their way.
Markus crept very carefully from one building to the next, continually aware of the clatter his shield and sword could make if he was not careful. Finally, he reached a gap between the houses that gave a direct line of sight to Bull. Carefully looking around the corner of the building, he could see a Karsian sitting on a wooden chair taken from one of the homes. The guard’s back was facing Markus, and his axe lying against the wall of the house beside him.
Seeing his opportunity, Markus slowly drew his dagger and pointed for Vesart to continue working around the buildings, just to be sure there were no more Karsians in the vicinity. The background noise of the Karsians arguing in the distance provided an excellent cover for his movements. Markus crept ever closer, the dagger in a reverse grip and raised to the height of his chin, his body hunched and poised, both for silence and in readiness to pounce.
Sneaking up on an enemy from behind was something Markus had practiced in his training, but nothing had prepared him for the psychological elements of it. His mouth was dry, his heart pounding. He had constantly to remind himself to breathe for the stress of the situation was too much for his body to work as normal.
He reached the man who was still oblivious to his presence. Looking ahead Markus could see that Bull’s head was still slumped forward, his body tied to a wall. He had no idea whether his friend was still alive, but the fact he was being watched and was still there, suggested there was hope. That was it, the time for planning was over and the time for action was nigh.
Markus leapt the last step, wrapped his left hand around the orc’s mouth and drove the point of his rondel dagger vertically down into the beast’s collarbone. The blade, which was nearly as long as his forearm, drove deep into the body until the rondel disc rested on his shoulder. The orc’s body spasmed as blood gushed from the wound, but his body soon went still, he never had time to make a sound.
Pulling the stiff bladed dagger from his victim blood spurted out from the wound, it was a grizzly sight. Markus hated the Karsian barbarians to his absolute core, but the sight of fresh blood and gore spoiling the previously pleasant Werstrian village was an unsettling sight. This was no way to kill a man, sneaky, unfair and clandestine, but it was the only way to beat such monsters. The time for playing fair was over.
A shimmer of movement caught Markus’ attention and he looked up to see another Karsian running at him with a sword in hand, the man must have been out of view previously. Markus released the dagger from his hand, letting it fall to the blood-swamped ground. He quickly reached for his sword, but before he could draw it, a dagger pierced his attacker’s throat.
The sentry immediately dropped his sword and clenched his throat as blood gushed from the wound. As the man collapsed to the ground writhing in pain, Markus saw Vesart standing at the other side of the opening, his arm still extended from throwing the knife.
“Thanks.”
Markus picked up his dagger and rushed to Bull, who was still lifeless. There was a bucket of water a few steps away. He picked up the bucket of icy cold water and tossed the contents into Bull’s face. His friend shook and shivered at the shock of it, coming to an uneasy state of wake. He looked up, expecting to see his torturers. Blood dripped from his mouth, but he smiled at the sight of his friends, his teeth red with his own blood.
“Ready for some payback?” Markus asked him.
“Give me a weapon and point me in the direction,” answered Bull.
Markus began to untie the thick ropes binding his friend’s arms.
“Tobias and Ulrich are waiting to get to the gate open to allow the rest of our men in, but they won’t be able to make it without a diversion. We need to buy them some time,” said Vesart.
“Alright, let’s do this,” said Bull.
Vesart picked up the axe that lay beside the dead guard’s body and threw it to the friend they had freed. Bull caught the weapon and, with a look of glee in his eyes, turned immediately to head for the open thoroughfare where they would be seen. Markus pulled his shield off his back and drew his sword, the two men following their eager friend.
Stepping out into the wide-open space, the three men watched as thirty or more Karsians argued among themselves, completely oblivious to their presence. Markus could see Ulrich next to a building and waiting to rush for the gate.
“We need to buy them a good amount of time,” said Markus.
“And try not to die in the process,” said Vesart.
“Karsians!” shouted Bull.
The horde of barbarians quickly silenced their conflicts and turned to study the three men, in utter shock and surprise.
“You’re a pathetic excuse for an army! You stink like an ox’s arse, and you fight like women! Now come and fight real men!” he called.
The group of barbarians hissed and spat at his sentiments, it riled them up just the way they had hoped. Not a single orc among them could resist the chance to draw their blood. They drew weapons and picked up all manner of swords, axes and polearms they had propped up nearby. They began advancing in a slow staggered fashion towards the three knights.
Markus grinned as he could see Ulrich reach the gate behind them. They were completely oblivious to him quietly releasing the bolts of the entrance as Tobias stood guard. Now all they had to do was survive until the rest of their men arrived.
Markus raised his shield and held his sword back, the blade resting on his shoulder. The closest Karsian let out a battle cry as he launched into a charge at him. Markus drove his shield into the orc’s chest and threw him over his body, stunning his opponent as he crashed to the ground flat on his back. Before he could recover Markus thrust the rim of his metal shield into the beast’s throat, crushing his windpipe.
Bull parried a heavy downward strike with a billhook to his attacker’s head and kicked to his stomach, knocking the orc’s feet out from him and sending him flat onto his face. Bull swung his axe down onto the back of the creature’s helmet, the crown splitting as the heavy axe blade crushed everything before it.
A number of the Karsians at the back noticed the gate was open and turned to face Ulrich and Tobias who already had their weapons drawn and ready. Many of the Karsians began shouting to alert their comrades that the gate was open, but it was too late. They were already totally caught-up in their blood lust to kill the three men who had insulted them.
Just seven orcs ran back to deal with the gate, but as the two defenders began to fight, Carl galloped through the open gatehouse at full speed barging one of the Karsians with his horse’s barding and crushing him under hoof. He did not even stop at the sight of the first orcs, he simply ploughed on, war hammer in hand.
Many of the rabble who were fighting Markus and his two friends turned at the thundering sound of the cavalry storming into the village, only exposing them even more to Bull’s blood rage. The three men hacked their way through the panicking band of Karsians like they were butchering chickens. The cavalry scattered among the dispersed and disorganised barbarians, not giving them a chance. The men of Villau looked on at the bloody devastation with a sickness, but for the knights and soldiers of Leonzal it was a triumphant sight. They didn’t leave a single orc breathing but butchered them to their very last, giving them the quick and kind death that their enemy would never have done to them.
“Victory is ours! Hazzah!” shouted Carl.
Markus, Bull and Vesart stood in the centre of the corpses. All three of their faces were strewn with blood, their gambesons stained with it too. Markus and Vesart stood relieved of their victory, wh
ilst Bull had a wide grin upon his face, satisfied of the bloodletting he had done. He thrust his blood-soaked axe into the air with both hands, as if offering it to the Gods, and let out a roar of triumph.
“Any news of the Hans and the villagers?” asked Ulrich.
“Bull?” Markus asked.
“Hans is dead, I saw his body being looted when I came to. I saw a number of the farmers locked in the church, which would likely have been burnt at nightfall.”
“Ulrich, get on it!” shouted Markus.
He ran towards the church followed by a number of the other men, praying that their victory meant more than one life saved.
“Any injuries? Everyone okay?”
“All okay, Markus,” said Carl.
They all turned and watched silently as Ulrich approached the church. They could see a lock and chain wrapped around the large iron handles fixed to the doors. He pulled on the doors but couldn’t break the lock free. Drawing his sword, he smashed it several times with the pommel until it finally broke. Ripping the door open with all urgency, he looked inside, motionless.
“Ulrich? What is it?”
Silently a figure appeared in the doorway, it was a woman carrying a child. She walked out into the daylight followed by more of the townspeople. They had mortified expressions on their faces, as if they had seen the devil himself. The group of just nineteen villagers stepped warily through the streets of their village, glad to be released, but still frightened by the events of that terrible day. They looked out at the sea of blood and bodies, but were not at all shocked by it. They had clearly witnessed far worse of late.
“Where are the rest of you?” Markus gently asked her.
The woman did not answer. She stared into his face, a tear dripping down her cheek. She again looked out at the heap of bodies behind him, nodding her head in satisfaction.
Kingdom of Fire Page 11