The Screaming Howlers poured crossbow bolts into that gap.
Eleven missiles screamed toward the Eirdkilrs, punching through leather armor and flesh. Half a dozen of the giants fell to the volley, screaming, gurgling, or silent in death, and were trampled beneath the advancing column. The gap broadened, the ice-covered furs wavering and dropping as the Eirdkilrs supporting them died.
Yet that single volley couldn’t break the formation. Open a ragged hole, certainly, but little more. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as Koltun raced to reload his crossbow.
Five seconds was all it took. Five seconds to snatch the goat’s foot lever from his belt, span the crossbow, replace the goat’s foot, nock a bolt, and bring it to his shoulder to fire. His hands went through the motions but his eyes never left the enemy below.
One.
The Eirdkilrs had to have gotten a good sense of the Screaming Howlers’ rate of fire. The instant that last bolt struck home, a howling war cry rippled through the column.
Two.
The giants quickened their pace.
Three.
Massive, booted feet set the ground rumbling as the Eirdkilrs advanced, racing toward the abandoned ram as quickly as they could without breaking their formation and losing the coherence of their ice-covered fur protection.
Four.
Even as Koltun reached for the bolt, the first of the Eirdkilrs reached the ram.
Five.
He whipped the crossbow up to his shoulder and prepared to loose, but the gap had closed. The Eirdkilrs swarmed over the ram, and the massive metal construction disappeared beneath that furry monstrosity of animal furs and ice. A roar of fury swelled up from the giants below, accompanied by the groan of strong men struggling to break the enormous ram free of the ice and frozen corpses littering the Cliffpass.
A terrible crackling of breaking ice echoed off the cliff walls. Shouting their triumph, the Eirdkilrs advanced.
Five yards was all that separated them from the gate. Koltun couldn’t see them—he was too short to peer that far over the edge of the parapet—but he could feel the thunder of the Eirdkilr boots approaching the gate. He loosed his bolt at one of the Eirdkilrs clustered in the rear of the fur-covered formation, brought the man down. But any hint of satisfaction disappeared in the next instant.
BOOOM!
The sound reverberated off the high stone walls of the Cliffpass, set the wall trembling beneath Koltun’s feet.
BOOOM!
The Eirdkilr ram once more assaulted the gate.
Chapter Twelve
“Stones!” Lieutenant Vorris’ shout echoed on the heels of the ram’s thunderous impact.
On his command, the miners and civilians hurled their burdens over the wall. Stones ranging from fist-sized to the width and breadth of a large man’s torso dropped onto the Eirdkilrs. Wood, bone, and flesh crunched beneath the impact, and Eirdkilr screams echoed from just beyond the gate.
BOOOM!
The third impact jarred Koltun’s teeth as he struggled to reload. “Get that damned ram out of commission!” he roared.
The next group of stone-carrying miners sent a second wave of boulders over the wall. More screams and cries rang out from below; even the massive Eirdkilrs, carrying heavy shields and ice-covered furs for added protection, couldn’t withstand the force of those stones plummeting forty feet. Those stones were the Legion’s only chance of breaking the Eirdkilr formation so they could use—
“Send the fire!” Lieutenant Vorris roared from a few yards to Koltun’s right.
A half-dozen civilians stepped up to the wall and hurled clay jars and glass bottles at the enemy below. Seconds later, Lieutenant Vorris himself threw a burning oil lantern into the chaos. A gout of brilliant fire blossomed in the misty morning, accompanied by pillars of choking black smoke. The screams of the Eirdkilrs doubled in volume, ringing with agony and tinged by raw fury. More stones flew, more fuel was added to the fire, and all the while the shrieking of the Screaming Howlers’ crossbow bolts never stopped.
It seemed an eternity, but couldn’t have been more than five minutes, before the Eirdkilrs broke and pulled back. Again. When they fled, nearly two hundred bodies remained behind. Crossbow bolts riddled half that number, but many more joined the ranks of charred, smoking corpses left in the previous battles. And though the barbarians had fallen silent, the fire still raged on, consuming oil and alcohol-soaked fur, flesh, and hair, hissing and spitting whenever it met ice.
With a grimace, Koltun removed his helmet and wiped the sweat from his brow. Damn. His hand trembled, just a bit, so imperceptible that no one else could notice it. That was too bloody close!
All along the wall, Legionnaires cheered, shouted, or slumped where they stood. They, too, understood what had almost happened. What would have happened had Lieutenant Vorris not acted quickly. The sudden shift in the Eirdkilrs’ battle plans would have cost them the gate otherwise.
Yet that shift left Koltun uneasy. We stopped them here, barely. The ice and heavy furs would have shielded the Eirdkilrs from the flames, at least long enough to do serious damage to the gate. The barbarians had never shown that sort of ingenuity before. Which begs the question: what else are they going to throw at us?
“Sergeant Koltun.” A voice echoed behind him. Turning, Koltun found Lieutenant Vorris standing there, his expression grim. “A word in private?”
Koltun cocked an eyebrow; the shadows in Lieutenant Vorris’ eyes had darkened. With a nod, he hopped down from his crate and followed the Lieutenant down the stairs to the street below. Lieutenant Vorris didn’t stop until they’d left the wall—and the Legionnaires guarding it—far enough behind to speak without fear of being overheard.
“That plan almost worked.” Worry echoed in the Lieutenant’s voice, and his jaw was clenched tight, his spine stiff. “But that’s not what worries me.”
“It’s the fact they came up with it at all.” Koltun nodded. “I was just thinking the same.”
Lieutenant Vorris removed his helmet and, with a grimace, ran his hand through sweat-soaked hair. “We’re not facing the typical Eirdkilrs, are we?” He spoke it as a rhetorical question. “Something about them is different. Cleverer, like they’re actually thinking and planning instead of charging into battle.”
“Aye.” Koltun tugged at his beard. “Whoever’s leading them is someone we’ve never faced before.”
“And that’s what’s got me worried.” Lieutenant Vorris took a seat on a nearby step, a dark look in his eyes. “No matter what Captain Hadrick likes to pretend to himself, I know we’re not going to hold. Now, it’s only a question of when they overrun us, not if.”
The Legionnaire’s grim words sent a shiver down Koltun’s spine. Lieutenant Vorris was an experienced soldier with nearly twenty years of combat experience. To hear that statement in such a matter-of-fact tone confirmed what Koltun had known since the Eirdkilrs first arrived.
“We’re out of oil,” Lieutenant Vorris said in a quiet voice. “As for the alcohol…” He produced the flask Koltun had given him the previous night. “…we’ve not much more than this.”
“And the ballista?” Koltun asked.
“Rearden says it’ll be operational in an hour or two, but even then, what can it realistically do?” The Lieutenant gave a glum shake of his head. “Best we can hope for is to take a few more with us when they finally get through the gate.”
Fear sank icy talons into Koltun’s mind. He’d known this was coming, yet to hear it voiced aloud filled him with profound dread. There was only one outcome to expect if they tried to hold the wall.
“Time to consider an alternative, then.” Koltun steeled his voice, forced a tone of confidence. It fell to him to support the Lieutenant and bolster the man’s spirits—that was the job of a Sergeant, after all.
“Pulling back, you mean?” Lieutenant Vorris grimaced. “Captain Hadrick will never—”
“I don’t give a steaming pile of bull shite what the Captain thinks
about this!” Koltun snarled, his fists clenching. “Unless he wants to be the one to get three hundred civilians slaughtered, he’s damned well going to consider pulling back. At the very least, letting them leave Highcliff Motte while we fight to hold the wall.”
Lieutenant Vorris’ eyes narrowed. “You mean giving the civilians the order to evacuate?”
“Aye.” Koltun nodded. “We do it now, we can buy them a few hours, maybe even a day or two, to get as far up the Cliffpass as possible. When things go bad, Dayn can bring the cliffs down behind them and cut off the Eirdkilrs’ advance. The civilians will have a chance of getting to safety and sending word of the attack here.”
The Lieutenant’s expression grew pensive and he tugged at his dark beard. “Captain Hadrick will insist on keeping anyone capable of fighting.” His lips pulled into a scowl. “And I’m not sure he’ll consider giving the order to evacuate. Not if he believes those back in Icespire will consider it an act of cowardice, or a failure to hold his post.”
“You let me see to our good Captain.” A harsh grin twisted Koltun’s lips. “I’ve got a plan that will ensure he rides out of Highcliff Motte before high noon.”
* * *
“You expect me to flee?” A mixture of outrage, offense, and scorn flashed across Captain Hadrick’s round face. He drew himself up to his full, unimpressive height. “I am no coward to run when the battle turns against me!”
Just one to hide in your stone tower and let others die in your place, Koltun thought, but his face showed no sign of his true feelings.
“You misunderstand my intention, Captain.” He held up his hands in a placating gesture. “Surely an experienced officer like you can understand the need to evacuate the women and children. To ensure they reach safety, they must be sent under armed guard. However, we cannot spare Legionnaires from defense of the wall. It stands to reason, then, that the Captain in charge of Ninth Company would be the one best-suited to overseeing their protection personally.”
Captain Hadrick’s lips drew forward into a pensive frown.
“And, it’s of the utmost importance that word reaches Commander Brintus of the dire nature of our situation here.” Koltun gestured toward the heavyset Captain. “Who better than Ninth Company’s ranking officer and chief strategist to impress upon him the urgency of sending reinforcements? And, who better to lead said reinforcements back across the Cliffpass to arrive in time to repel the enemy?”
Even before his words fell silent, Koltun could see the wheels in Captain Hadrick’s mind turning. Koltun had just offered him the one thing he craved above all: a way to escape certain death without losing face. Koltun had met enough men like Captain Hadrick to know the man cared more about his reputation as an officer than actually being an officer. His posting to Highcliff Motte proved he was clearly less than capable on the battle front, but too well-placed to shuffle him off to some Commander’s aide position. A man like that had no place in a desperate fight like the one they faced here.
“It has to be you, sir,” Kolten pressed. “A message delivered by Ninth Company’s Captain will make it clear that we need reinforcements as soon as they can be dispatched. And with you to lead the evacuation, the women and children of Highcliff Motte have a real chance of reaching safety.”
The lies left a bitter taste on Koltun’s tongue, but he said them with a straight face and earnest tone. He’d say whatever it took to get the Captain to agree to his plan.
Not that Captain Hadrick needed much excuse to flee.
“So be it.” The rotund officer slammed a palm on the table. “By the Swordsman, I will make certain the Eirdkilrs rue the day they attacked Ninth Company!”
* * *
“Good riddance!” Thog rumbled under his breath.
Koltun elbowed the big man in the ribs. “Don’t you open your mouth and spoil our good fortune. Not until we’re certain he’s well and truly gone.” He and Thog stood with Lieutenant Vorris and Lieutenant Cenye watching the procession of women, children, and elders hurrying up the street toward Highcliff Motte’s northern wall and the gate out to the Cliffpass. The order to evacuate had gone out less than half an hour before, and already the hundred or so civilians were packed and ready to move.
Behind the column rode Captain Hadrick and one of the three officers that served as his aides—the other two had been instructed to join the army holding the wall. The Captain turned in his saddle, a feat made difficult by his armor and protruding gut, and gave Highcliff Motte one last glance. “Swordsman be with you all!” he called to the handful of soldiers within earshot.
“Give him a little wave,” Koltun said through the corner of his mouth, nudging Thog. The two of the Screaming Howlers lifted their hands to bid the Captain farewell.
“Lieutenant Vorris, you have command until I return!” Captain Hadrick snapped a Legion salute. “May our god strengthen your hearts and steel your courage, so you hold fast until I return bringing salvation with me!”
With those grandiose words, he turned, clapped his heels to his horse’s ribs, and rode up the trail.
Koltun didn’t wait to watch the Captain go, but turned to Lieutenant Vorris. “Well, that’s one problem solved.”
Though Lieutenant Vorris’ grim expression never wavered, he gave a little nod of acknowledgement. “Indeed, though I would have sent more of the young men and women with them.” He glance at the wall, where Captain Hadrick’s conscripted noncombatants—both the miners sent to work East Silver Shaft and the civilians living in Highcliff Motte and working to sustain Ninth Company—were working to bring more stones to the wall and help Lieutenant Lerron’s men get the now-operational ballista up to the wall to be mounted.
“There’s nothing to be done for that now,” Koltun told the man. “All we can do is buy them time to get as far from this place as possible.” He didn’t need to say, “Before we’re overrun and slaughtered to a man”—the Lieutenant knew their predicament well enough.
“So be it.” Lieutenant Vorris gave a little sigh and a shrug. “Best we get on with preparing to meet the Eirdkilrs. We’ve a long day of battle ahead.”
Chapter Thirteen
“It’s been all day and still no attack,” Thog muttered. The broad Praamian cast a huge shadow over Koltun, blocking out the last traces of the fading sunlight. “I’d love to think that’s a good thing, but then I look down there and that makes it clear we’re not out of this yet.”
Koltun didn’t need Thog’s pointing finger to know what the big man was talking about. He, too, had spent the entire day staring down the Cliffpass—now cleared of the early morning fog—at the horde of Eirdkilrs gathered a few hundred yards down the trail.
The enemy appeared like a maelstrom of flesh, fur, wood, and steel, seething, surging, ceaselessly moving as they paced back and forth, caged animals waiting for the order to strike. Periodically, they would erupt into howling war cries, calling out their hatred of the “half-men” behind the walls with shouts and curses that set the cliff walls ringing. Five times that day, Koltun had caught his breath as scattered handfuls of Eirdkilrs seemed to be preparing to charge up the Cliffpass.
Though the giants hadn’t yet made their move, their presence was enough. They numbered in the thousands, far too many for the remaining Legionnaires of Ninth Company and the conscripted civilians to withstand for long.
“I’ll still be giving the Mistress thanks for her good fortune,” Koltun replied without taking his eyes from the enemy. “The fact that they’ve delayed the attack all day means a few more hours to draw breath. And a few more hours for the civilians to make tracks across the mountains.”
Thog grunted, but said nothing. He knew as well as Koltun that the fleeing women and children couldn’t cover more than two or three miles per hour, burdened as they were with what little belongings and supplies they’d taken with them. The Cliffpass itself was also steep enough to slow the pace substantially. Every hour that passed gave them a better chance of escaping and reaching freedom.<
br />
With effort, Koltun tore his gaze away from the Eirdkilrs howling below and glanced at the sparse, ragged lines of defenders holding the wall. The last clash with the enemy had done little real damage to the Legionnaires and non-combatants—only two men had been wounded by the few arrows the Eirdkilrs loosed from within the shelter of the heavy fog—but the full day of watching and waiting took its toll on even the most experienced soldier. If Koltun’s nerves were ragged, he could only imagine how terrified and close to panicking some of the men, women, and young men around him were.
Koltun searched for the few familiar faces among the defenders. Lingram remained in his shadow, as instructed, ten fresh quivers of crossbow bolts slung over his shoulders. The boy’s father and brothers were scattered among the civilians prepared to haul stones up to the wall when the inevitable attack came. Lieutenant Vorris strode along the wall, speaking to the soldiers and his fellow officers in a calm, quiet, yet commanding voice.
Caela, Burgo, Rock, Wallis, and Connell held the western side of the wall, while Gladabar, Sadras, Madden, Dannick, and Nouth stood to the east. The Screaming Howlers stood dispersed among the Legionnaires, where they could use the heavy shields for protection while loosing bolts at any enemy that drew within range. Their crossbows covered the full field of battle, with Thog and Koltun anchoring the center of the line. When battle came, the Eirdkilrs would march into the teeth of a storm of bolts—as much of a storm as twelve crossbowyers could muster, that was.
Tension hung thick all along the wall. Legionnaires shuffled from foot to foot, trying to conceal their nervousness from their comrades and the civilians at their backs. Armor and shields clanked as anxious soldiers shifted, tightened straps, or adjusted grips on their weapons. All eyes locked on the Eirdkilrs swarming through the Cliffpass below. At any moment, every one of them knew, the enemy would come.
The Last March: A Grimdark Epic Military Fantasy Novel (The Silent Champions Book 6) Page 9