Resurgence

by Alex Janaway

  He dropped his bow, as did every second person on the wall, and reached for a rock the size of his head. He heard a dull thud as a ladder touched the top of the parapet. He gathered the rock and stood up, shrinking back as a streak of flaming arrow whizzed past. He tried again. A howling wood elf, a knife gripped in one hand, was climbing the ladder. Killen raised the rock high then hurled it down, it bounced off the climber’s shoulder and the wood elf let go, its face a mix of anger and pain as it fell back on to those gathered at the bottom. Killen gripped the ladder’s highest rung and started to push it away from the wall, even as another wood elf started to climb.

  ‘Help me!’ he roared.

  A Highlander joined him and together they forced the ladder away and it crashed backwards.

  Killen grinned at the Highlander, only to see him fall off the parapet, punched in the chest by an arrow.

  Killen looked along the line. Spears and axes were stabbing and falling trying to keep the climbers at bay. Rashad slashed across a female wood elf’s chest. Another gained the parapet, only to be shot by Abbas from his position in the sentry tower.

  The ladder by Killen returned to the wall. He crouched and drew his sabre. As a head peaked over the wall he thrust high, driving his blade under the chin and onwards. He yanked backwards, and blood splashed over his hands. The body lay slumped over the lip of the wall, blocking the way for those underneath.

  A loud thud, and a swaying vibration along the parapet announced the arrival of the next siege weapon. A battering ram. He took a quick look and saw a tree trunk with a crude rounded end wielded by a dozen wood elves. Good luck with that. He was certain the gates would hold out far longer than their position above it would. Another ladder arrived against a wall. Damn but these elves were going all out. The defenders were holding their own, but that wasn’t the plan. He stepped away and waved at those gathered below. An answering wave and two of their number split off making for the nearest hut, just yards away. They entered and closed the door behind them.

  Killen looked for Rashad.

  ‘Captain, fighting withdrawal if you please.’

  Rashad punched a wood elf in the face with his small studded buckler. ‘Yes Major!’ He shouted an order in Erebeshi and the scouts and Highlanders alike started to disengage, pulling away from the parapet to the lip of the fighting platform and launching themselves on to the ground below. Killen, right by one of the parapet’s ladders, dropped his sword to the ground and descended in a somewhat more dignified fashion. As his feet touched the wooden duckboard he gathered up his sword. His fighters were sprinting from the skirmish line of archers who were now aiming and shooting directly on to the platform where wood elves were gaining a foothold.

  ‘Abbas, get down here!’ he ordered, as the scout took another shot from his platform, his arrow striking home and a wood elf collapsing. Abbas moved quickly to the ladder and slid down it, leaving his bow and arrows behind.

  Together they ran for the skirmish line ahead. Another bang followed them as the battering ram continued its assault even as the gate was conceded to the enemy. He stopped by the skirmish line while the others formed up thirty yards further back. In the light of the braziers the gateway parapet was crawling with figures.

  ‘Nice of them to line up like that,’ shouted Saul from the other end of the skirmish line.

  As the archers poured arrows into the seething mass, many fell, but more and more were getting on to the platform, and now arrows were coming back at them.

  ‘Here comes a volley!’ someone cried.

  Killen looked up as a cloud of bright flaming stars launched into the sky and then started to dip towards them.

  ‘Look out!’ He ducked as the arrows began to fall upon them. He raised a warding arm, fat lot of good it would do him. Two of their number fell as many more arrows landed on the ground around them, others embedding in the roofs of the buildings to either side. Time to move. They would be slaughtered here. ‘Fall back!’

  The skirmish line withdrew towards where the parapet defenders had gathered, those with bows already shooting over their heads. Killen reached that line and stopped again, this time beside Rashad as the retreating skirmishers continued running at full pace for the hall.

  ‘Ready a volley!’ ordered Rashad.

  Killen directed his attention back to the gatehouse. More wood elves were forming up in front of it, creating a crude shield wall while others behind were working at the gate braces. Another loud crack and suddenly the gate gave way. Shit. A bestial howl of glee washed towards them as that elf shield wall broke up and charged.

  ‘Loose!’ Rashad shouted.

  And as the arrows started to fly. Killen gave the order. ‘Back! Back to the hall!’

  Everyone turned and fled. And the wood elves responded, their own arrows hunted the fleeing defenders. Killen, sword in hand, arms pumping, ducked his head and forced his legs to work faster. He heard a grunt, saw someone falling to the ground out of the corner of his eye. There was no time to stop. He pounded across the duckboards crisscrossing the square and onwards.

  An arrow flew by his head, another embedded itself in the ground ahead of him. He veered around it.

  As he ran, the thought occurred to him that this was all painfully familiar. The running, the chasing, the terror.

  The steps to the hall were ahead, the brazier blazing bright at the top, and built in a loose semi-circle around the doors was a crude wall of earth-filled hessian sacks, almost chest high. The skirmish line had reformed behind it, already shooting back at the pursuing wood elves.

  ‘Aah!’ he felt something strike his back. He stumbled forwards, almost losing his balance, taking longer strides as his arms cartwheeled. Somehow, his momentum kept him going and he gathered himself just as the first of the hall’s steps reared before him. Killen scrambled up them, his heart pounding, vaguely aware of others doing the same. As he reached the top, a hand reached out and pulled him forward between one of the gaps in the wall, helping him to steady himself. It was one of the Highlanders. Jenni? He nodded his thanks, though she’d already started to plug the gap with more sacking.

  Looking back towards the square, it was starting to fill up. Wood elves were spreading out and moving to either side to use the buildings as cover. They’d be able to work their way around to the flanks easily enough. But Killen had a few moments to gather his wits, the enemy wasn’t advancing on them yet.

  ‘Shame about that wall,’ said Saul.

  ‘Yes. At least we prepared the whole perimeter,’ replied Killed. ‘Do you think they’ve lit it yet?’

  Saul shook his head.

  ‘No, they’ll wait a little longer, just for that stream of howling bastards to get by.’

  Killen nodded. ‘Rashad? You still with me?’

  ‘Major!’ Rashad waved. ‘Thought we’d lost you when that arrow struck.’

  ‘What?’ He twisted to look over his shoulder. ‘Oh.’ He’d totally forgotten.

  ‘It bounced off your breastplate,’ added Saul, as he nocked and shot in one smooth motion. More arrows were coming their way, embedding in the sacking or skittering off the hall’s doors behind them.

  He did a quick headcount. It was difficult to tell. He looked for familiar faces, some he could not see in the press.

  ‘Rashad? What’s your flank look like?’

  ‘There are many working their way around.’

  Killen looked to the other flank. It was likely the same. There was no easy way to get to the hall other than straight up the steps, and the height gave the defenders an advantage. But the wood elves need only get some elevation by climbing into the eaves of the smithy, stables and the like. They had only minutes – he had to check everyone was in place.

  ‘Keep them busy,’ Killen ordered, to no one in particular, jogging through the doors and into the hall itself. Though a fire blazed in the pit and torches burned in scones around the walls, the place was strangely empty. Eerily quiet compared to the roar of noise coming fro
m without. Naimh appeared from the steps leading down into the caverns below. She carried a shortsword in one hand and a buckler in the other. Her face was set hard, like she was trying to contain some inner rage.

  ‘Naimh, Is everyone safe?’

  ‘Yes. They are down.’ She stepped closer. ‘Including those we couldn’t get out in time. The children.’ Her voice shook. ‘Why didn’t we move them sooner? Owen–’

  ‘Owen did what he thought was best.’

  ‘And where is he now?’ she demanded, bitterly.

  Killen reached out and squeezed her shoulder.

  ‘Nearby. Believe me. We have planned for this. Now, stand ready, it’s going to get hairy soon and we’ll need to be quick.’

  Naimh swallowed away her emotion with a sharp nod of her head. ‘We’ll be waiting.’

  ‘Good.’

  Killen left her by the steps and ran back to rejoin the others. Rashad was already redirecting archers to the flanks.

  ‘It’s starting, Major,’ he said, indicating the smithy.

  Killen followed Rashad’s hand. The eave shutters were open, and shapes were leaning forward and shooting out.

  ‘Keep them pinned down!’ said Killen. He ran to the other end. The granary had a larger first floor door to receive sacks pulled up from below. A clutch of wood elves were already there. A scout sat with his back to the sacks, trying to unwrap a roll of cloth. A vicious cut ran the length of his forehead and blood was pouring down his face.

  Killen knelt down and took the cloth.

  ‘Here, lean forward.’ The scout did as he was bid, and Killen wrapped the bandage around the wound.

  ‘It’s not deep,’ said the scout, Mohan.

  ‘It doesn’t have to be deep. When we pull back, you get that wound cleaned and washed out.’

  ‘Yes, Major.’

  Killen tied off the bandage. ‘Alright,’ he slapped the scout’s arm.

  ‘Major!’ Rashad beckoned to him.

  He rose and glanced out across the square. Mantlets were coming forward, slowly advancing across the open ground. There were obviously no more pits to stop them, just the pattern of duckboards to manoeuvre over.

  ‘Torches!’ he ordered. Some defenders broke off and ran inside. ‘Keep the pressure on. Don’t stop shooting!’ The mantlets were coming fast now. Arrows hit the screens or passed overhead. Wood elves leaned out and loosed and more did so from behind. Killen heard a scream as someone fell backwards, an arrow sprouting from their face. He reached up, almost unconsciously, checking he still wore his helmet, his fingers tracing the cheek and nasal guards.

  Those from within returned, bearing torches in both hands.

  ‘Light it,’ Killen bid.

  The torch bearers moved to the wall, placing the torches in small gaps at the foot of the sacks. Almost immediately the fire caught and started to spread. The mantlets were now halfway across the square. But they needed a little more time. ‘Keep shooting!’ The defenders had to work around the flames that were starting to lick up the sacks. Something banged into Killen’s helmet forcing his head back violently. ‘Fucking hell!’ he cried. But he was still standing.

  ‘Lucky bastard!’ grinned Saul.

  The mantlets were almost at the steps. The heat of the flames was building. Black, choking smoke was starting to thicken.

  ‘Everyone, back inside!’

  The defenders left the wall and piled inside. Killen made for the doorway even as a bloody thirsty roar marked the arrival of the wood elves. He stepped away from the doorway, facing the flaming wall. Others were forming a loose line around him, Rashad, Abbas, Jenni. An arrow, on a high trajectory, flew into the hallway and landed at his feet. Behind him he heard Naimh urging the others down the stairs to the caverns. The wall shuddered as a surge of wood elves slammed into it. The top sacks fell from the wall. These bastards really were not hanging around.

  Killen made a face and looked at his comrades.

  ‘Let’s go!’

  They turned and ran for the stairs leading down, grunting and rage-fuelled shouts following them. A crashing, whumping sound suggested the wall had given way. Running shoulder to shoulder with Rashad he took the steps three at a time, before he launched himself at the darkened floor below, landing in a crumpled heap. Above and behind him the trap doors were pulled shut and metal bars pulled across. Killen pushed himself off the ground. Hands grabbed him under his shoulders and hauled him upright. A second and third bar, both new additions, were pulled through the extra brackets.

  Hard footsteps were thumping on the trap doors, followed by pounding. Black shapes flitted across the thin gaps in the wooden planks. The pounding intensified. Killen took a step back. Gathered around him, the defenders took a moment to breathe, some sat, others leant on each other for support, yet in the shadows of the weakly lit cavern, all of them were watching that barrier.

  Killen shared a look with Rashad.

  ‘Captain. Let’s see to our wounded.’

  ‘Yes, Major.’

  Naimh took a step toward him, laying a hand on his arm. She squeezed. Killen smiled, appreciating the gesture.

  ‘Now we wait.’

  A loud crack above their heads announced the arrival of axes. Killen swallowed. More cracks followed the first and a rhythm started to build.

  ‘Naimh?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Let’s see what we can find, try and build ourselves another barricade at the bottom of the steps, yes?’

  She nodded. ‘Alright.’

  As Naimh began to direct operations, Killen winced at the sound of the chopping. It wouldn’t take them long to get through the trap doors.

  ‘Come on, Owen. Get it done.’

  CHAPTER 23 – OWEN

  Jussi spotted the torch first and pulsed Owen. Together they turned their eagles towards the far promontory of Eagle’s Rest, where the cairn stood, the memorial to the dead. As they drew near, the torchbearer, waving in wide sweeps, saw them coming and lowered his light. Arno and then Ayolf touched down.

  The torchbearer jogged over, it was the lad, Conor.

  ‘Are they at the gates?’ asked Owen.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Alright, start lighting the brands for us.’

  Conor nodded and ran to a small bucket resting by the cairn.

  Owen looked over to Jussi.

  ‘Once you’ve got a brand, launch, pick up a barrel and get in position. Wait until I drop the first one, then get to it. We don’t stop until we are done.’

  ‘I understand, Owen.’

  A few moments later and Conor returned with two small pitch-soaked brands that were starting to blaze merrily. He handed one to Owen then jogged across to Jussi to pass him the other.

  ‘Let’s go, Arno.’

  The eagle launched from the edge. The flaming brand started to flicker violently in Owen’s hand but did not go out. Then he directed Arno back towards the promontory and to a line of twelve barrels, spaced a few feet apart from one another. Arno flared with his wings, slowing his speed, then reached out with his talons and took one up. With powerful beats of his wings, he continued on. They gained height as they took a wide curve around Eagle’s Rest. Owen did not want them to be noticed if he could help it. No doubt the eagles had all been spotted leaving earlier that day and the enemy did not consider them a factor in this battle. Arno flew high with the gate to their left. There was so much light that it was easy to see the fight. Damn, more mantlets. The advancing wood elves dropped them to cover the pits and traps left to stymie the advance.

  As arrows flew through the sky, the battering ram made its way forward, striking the gate.

  For a few moments, Owen considered dropping the barrel on that ram. It would work. And the assault would no doubt slacken off. But, that was not the plan. Jussi and Ayolf took a position on Arno’s flank.

  ‘I’m here, Owen.’

  ‘I see you.’

  ‘I hate this.’

  ‘I know.’

  The wood elve
s gained the wall and Owen looked on as the defenders fell back to the hall. He saw some fall to arrows as they withdrew, but it was too far to tell who. And then on his next pass, they were holding the steps. It was almost time. He switched his focus to the gatehouse. The ram had done its job and wood elves were streaming through, they were bunched up at the gate, some going through the entrance, still more using the ladders. He also saw mantlets being moved forwards and the gates opening fully. The hut by the gate was still standing and looked untouched. He passed along the ridgeline. At the rear of the line of wood elves a gleam of light flashed in the dark, reflecting the fires ahead. He squinted. He could swear he’d seen something just within the woods. A body of watchers. He shook his head. Not everyone would commit to the fight, they needed someone to look after the horses.

  Another wide sweep and the defenders at the hall were hard pressed. The mantlets were making their way forwards.

  ‘Owen, most of the elves are through!’

  ‘Alright, let’s go.’

  Arno turned back for the cairn and banked hard, lining up for the gate. They’d see him and Jussi coming, but there was no hiding it now. The hall was taken. Wood elves were pouring in. Owen’s breath caught, for all that he had known it would happen.

  Arno lost height and speed as they passed over the hall. There was smoke coming from the duckboards nearest the hut and they were starting to glow. Good. They’d done it.

  ‘Aim for the gateway, Jussi. Follow my lead.’

  Arno reached the end of the short lane, there were several wood elves gathered at the gate. One started to aim his bow. Arno released the barrel. It smashed into the ground a little to the left of the gateway, scattering the wood elves and covering them in pine pitch. Arno flew on and banked sharply left. Owen twisted in the saddle, saw Ayolf release his barrel. It landed just before the gate. Arno banked hard and swept in at an angle. The wood elves were still there, but too busy to worry about the eagles. As they passed over, Owen leaned out dropped his brand. Then it was back to the promontory, Arno turning to the right, heading past the roosting barn.