* * *
The General watched the smoke rise to the sky with dispirited eyes. Soot rained down slowly from above, covering those standing on the wall in a fine layer of ash. A few days after claiming the fishing village as their own, the Dargonians had set the entire area alight. Now nothing was left of what was once one of the most lively areas of Feldom. The charred frames and chimneys were all that remained, and slowly as the days passed more and more troops crossed the lake.
The Dargonians had not begun their attack yet and, so far had kept their distance from the wall. Then this morning Guthrum had seen what he feared most. Over the bridge came the great engines of war that the Dargonians had worked tirelessly on. Machines of such power and efficiency that they could tear down buildings in moments.
Guthrum smiled. This was one wall that the enemy could not break. Feldom's finest craftsmen had spent lifetimes designing and building the eastern wall of Precedin. It was an unmatched wonder of engineering. The unbreakable stone, mined in the quarries of near Darkwater, formed the base of the wall. Iron plating and bluestone then covered the wall with a second layer of strength. For hundreds of years the city had survived the engines of Dargon and Guthrum was confident that history would prevail.
"Sir!"
The General turned and saw the Guard Marshal standing next to him. "What is it Coppercloud?"
"The horses have been moved out of the city. Only a few of the fastest have been left for runners," Coppercloud replied.
Guthrum nodded his approval. He had ordered the healthy horses out of the city. They would be of no use in the battle and he did not want the Dargonians getting their hands on any of them if the worst were to occur. He peered back over the wall and saw the Dargonian crewmen moving their siege weapons into position. He turned to Coppercloud and said, "I'm placing you in charge of the volunteers. Make your way into the city and make sure that any fire that breaks out is stopped before it becomes too dangerous."
The Guard Marshal saluted then walked off. Guthrum then thought of Nallia and called out once more to the Guard Marshal. "And Coppercloud, if you are near the surgeons look out for Nallia."
Coppercloud nodded and continued on his way to the stairs. He understood how hard it was for the General to have his wife in the city, whilst a bloodthirsty army was breathing down his neck. He had only respect for Guthrum, as did most men, yet he knew that the General did not have a high opinion of him. He would however make sure that Nallia was safe. Even if it meant putting himself in danger. That much he promised himself.
Guthrum moved from his position along the wall and began to bark orders at the officers standing amongst the regular troops. Every company that he passed felt slightly better when the General was near and he realised he would need to remain focused in the coming hours to ensure that these men did not break and run.
He spotted Sergeant Hanlit standing next to some of the survivors from the defence of the village and walked over to him. Hanlit saluted and the General waved allowing the man to relax. He looked past the Sergeant and saw that the Dargonians had already begun setting up the catapults and mangonels that would in moments rain fire and stone down upon the city.
"They are just out of arrow range, Sir," commented Hanlit.
"That is expected," sighed the General. "They don't intend to fire on the wall as it stands. They will attack the inner city.
"I fear that even if they do not destroy the wall with their hellish devices, the damage that they cause will be overwhelming. We will not be able to control the fires that will break out," said Hanlit reluctantly.
"Do not worry about the fires, Sergeant. Your job is to keep them on their side of the wall," replied the General, pointing to the mass of soldiers waiting behind the siege engines.
In between their ranks, the enemy crewmen began to unpack their most powerful weapons. Giant trebuchets that would propel enormous boulders over great distances using counterweights. The General knew that this was it. Once the siege began, there would be little order, only the hellish chaos that came with battle. He moved away from Hanlit, gripping the Sergeant's shoulder one last time just before he left, and jumped up onto a crate that had just been unloaded.
"My fellow soldiers," he called out, raising his voice to its peak. The men on the wall, hearing the call loudly on the crisp night air, turned to see the General standing tall in the middle of the long expanse, and were inspired. He stood out as a beacon in the night sky, a golden warrior giving his warning to those who would dare challenge him.
"It has finally come to the time that we have long dreaded," the General continued. "Soon the war will begin in earnest. When the weapons of Dargon begin firing and the city that we love so dear begins to burn, we will know that this time is truly upon us. But it is the time for us to stand proud and ever vigilant against those most hated. Those who would dare threaten our lives and the lives of those we love by waging this eternal struggle. So when the enemy swarms upon this wall and all hope seems lost, remember that we fight for the freedom of the our people, and most of all for Feldom!"
The soldiers raised their weapons high into the air and cried out in the dark, "For Feldom!"
Those not on the wall heard the chant carry over the city. Though not as great in number, the Feldonian cheer had matched that of the Dargonians.
When the echo subsided a dead silence came over the city. Doors creaked and banners rustled in the wind. All that could be heard was the heavy breathing of the nervous defenders.
After the silence had settled in, it began.
In unison, the war engines of Dargon unleashed a barrage onto the city. Rocks and containers of fiery oil flew right over the wall and came crashing down on the inner city. Roofs crumbled and buildings collapsed as the chunks of stone launched by the trebuchets rained down. And all over Precedin fiery containers of oil exploded, setting the streets alight.
The General ran to his ballistae and ordered them to fire upon the trebuchets. Giant arrows, the size of a man, flew from the city wall striking with deadly accuracy and tearing apart the wooden frames of the enemies weapons. The Feldonians cheered as the ballistae destroyed many of the closest weapons, but the General knew that they were doing little real damage. Every moment more weapons were set up, adding to the already vast number of devices bringing destruction to the city.
Then the next assault came. Mangonels began to fire sacks of smaller rocks onto the eastern wall. The projectiles came down upon the defenders quickly and took many men before they could even look up. The General grabbed his shield and raised it above his head. He soon felt the rocks pound strongly against the shield and struggled to hold it steadily. Around him he saw men fall to the floor in agony as they were crushed from above.
Suddenly the ground around him exploded as a container of oil struck the wall. Men quickly ran to the General and doused the flames that were ravaging his body. They helped him up and he pushed them away. He had taken several burns to his body, but nothing he couldn't handle. The helpers lingered until the General shouted, "Don't worry about me. Go stop those fires!"
The men ran off to help the many other soldiers that were rolling around in agony as the fire scorched their bodies.
Along the wall more explosions erupted and those who were not avoiding the fire were being assaulted by the deadly rocks from above. The General put his hands to his face and felt his skin peeling. This was worse than he had imagined. His men were suffering tremendously and there was little that he could do to aid them. Next to him one of the ballistae fell off the wall as it was struck by a large boulder which also took the two men operating it. He ducked low as another fiery container struck the wall near him and almost felt like giving up. There were just too many machines to stop.
He ran over to the inner side of the wall and looked down into the city streets. Volunteers moved hastily with buckets of water and sand, doing what they could to stop the fires from spreading, but it was hopeless. The sheer number of missiles flying
over the wall could not be contained. Each fire that was doused, was replaced by three or four new ones.
"Great Skiye, what can we do?" prayed the General as another ballista fell from the wall, its crew engulfed in burning oil.
Dawn of the Valiant (The Valerious Chronicles: Book One) Page 69