Last, Tuck's eye settled upon the third emissary: a Man, dark, as if from Hyree or Kistan. Yet he was strange, for spittle drooled from the corner of his mouth and his features were vapid, empty-eyed and slack-jawed, holding no spark of intelligence.
All this Tuck saw as they approached Modru's trio, standing midway between the Horde and the north gate. The Warrow and the King drew up facing the foul emissaries. The Ghûl looked from one to the other, his dead black eyes briefly locking upon Tuck's gemlike sapphire-blue ones, and dread coursed through Tuck's veins. The Ghûl escort then turned to Modru's messenger, and in a dreadful voice, Like the dead would sound, thought Tuck, the Ghûl spoke a word in the harsh, slobbering, foul Slûk speech: "Gulgok!"
The vacant features of the swart Man's face writhed, a malignant look of utter Evil filled his eyes, and his lips twisted into a cruel mocking snarl. With a cry, Tuck threw up his hand, and the King turned pale, for a great malevolence lashed out at them. And Tuck shuddered to hear the voice that followed, for it sounded like the hissing of pit adders.
"Aurion Redeye. I had not expected you," the voice gloated, and the evil eyes turned to Tuck and glittered. "This is even sweeter, for you draw mine other enemies into the trap with you." And Tuck felt the hackles on his neck rise, and his grip upon the staff showed white knuckles.
The vile stare turned back to the King. "Look around you fool. With your feeble one eye see the might that has come to throw you down, and think not to oppose it. This great boon I offer you: lay down your arms, surrender now, and you shall be permitted to exist in slavery, serving me for the rest of your days. Think upon this with the wisdom you are reputed to have, for no second chance will be offered. But you must choose now, for time slips swiftly through your grasp. What will you have, slavery or death?" The sibilant voice fell silent, and scornful eyes leered from mocking face.
"Pah!" spat Aurion. "Say this to your vile Lord Modru: Aurion Redeye chooses freedom!"
A bone-chilling shriek of rage burst forth from the swart emissary, and malignant hatred blasted down upon Tuck like a vile living force. "Then, Redeye, you choose death!" screamed the voice, and the cruel mouth screeched a harsh command at the Ghûl and Rück— "Gluktu!"—using the foul Slûk speech.
The Ghûl flung up a tulwar and spurred his Hèlsteed forward, while at the same time the Rück tugged at his cloak, drew a bow from concealment, and fumbled at a black-shafted arrow to aim at the King.
"Treachery!" cried Tuck, clapping heels to his pony and riding at the Rück, and out of the corner of his eye he saw King Aurion draw gleaming sword from scabbard and spur Wildwind forward. But then only the Rück commanded Tuck's view, for the swart maggot had set his black arrow to string and was drawing aim upon the King, the barb dripping a vile ichor. Raising the standard, Tuck brought it crashing down upon the Rück's head as the pony raced by, and the force of the blow was so great that the pole snapped in twain, leaving Tuck gripping a jagged shaft. The black arrow hissed wide of the mark as the Rück fell dead—skull crushed, neck broken.
Tuck wheeled the pony around, and he heard and saw the clang of sword upon tulwar. And the Ghûl was skilled, for his blade slashed through Aurion's guard and skittered across the King's chain mail. But again, Tuck did not see more, for he rode his pony to come between the battling pair and the other emissary, placing himself in harm's way to fend off a charge by the third foe. Yet the Hèlsteed moved not, and Tuck looked up into the visage of this enemy, but the eyes were vacant and the mouth slack and the face now void of wit.
Clang! Chank! Sword and tulwar clashed. Thunk! The King's blade bit deeply, cleaving a great gash in the Ghûl, yet the foe did not bleed and fought on as if unwounded. Ching! Thock! Now the tulwar slashed across the King's forearm, and blood welled forth. Chunk! Again Aurion's sword rived, once more the Ghûl's flesh gaped, yet it was as if nought had happened.
"His mount!" cried Tuck, and Aurion's sword slashed through the throat of the Hèlsteed. Black gore spewed forth as the creature fell, flinging the Ghûl off. Tuck heard the snap of breaking bones, yet the Ghûl rose to his feet as if unharmed and slashed his tulwar up at Aurion, but the blow was caught by the King's blade. Now the Ghûl emitted a chilling howl, and like cries answered from the Horde. Hèlsteeds bearing Ghûls raced forth from the ranks. Tuck saw them hurtle out, and in desperation he clapped heels to his pony and charged at the Ghûl, couching the splintered flagstaff like a spear, as he had seen Igon do at practice. Forward raced the pony. With a hideous Thuck! the jagged shaft caught the Ghûl full in the back and punched through, the splintered end emerging from his chest, and the jolting impact hurled Tuck backward over the cantle and to the frozen ground as the pony ran on. Dazed, the Warrow could hear the King calling his name. He floundered to his feet, only to be jerked up off the ground and flung on his stomach in front of Aurion Redeye across Wildwind's withers.
Tuck could not catch his breath as the King's grey horse thundered for the north gate, and the pounding gallop caused Tuck to retch and lose his breakfast. Toward the portal they sped, with Ghûls in pursuit. But Wildwind was not to be headed, and he raced under a canopy of arrows shot from the walls at the pursuers. With howls of rage, the Ghûls sheered off the chase as Wildwind came to the side-postern and through, closely followed by Tuck's free-running pony.
"Killed 'em! Killed 'em both, he did!" cried Hogarth, the Gate Captain, a fierce grin splitting his face as he pulled Tuck from Wildwind's back and to the ground. But Tuck could not stand and fell forward to his knees, his arms clutched across his stomach, face down as he gasped for air. He found he was weeping. Aurion leapt down beside him.
"He's got the wind knocked out of him," said Aurion. "Stand back." And the King held the Warrow by the shoulders as the Wee One gasped and wept, while the Kingsmen upon the wall roared a mighty cheer.
At last Tuck got control of his breathing, and soon the weeping stopped, too. And the King said in a low voice that only the Waerling could hear, "Sir Tuck, you must mount up the wall so that all may see you. Heroes are needed in these dark times to rally the spirits of all of us."
"But, Sire, I am no hero," Tuck said.
The King looked at the Warrow in astonishment. "No hero, you say? Fie! Whether or not you feel like a hero, you are one, and we need you. So come, mount up to the parapet with me."
And so, up the ramp and to the battlements above the north gate went the King and Warrow, and all the Men shouted great praise. Tuck looked forth upon the field. Of the third emissary there was no sight, but out upon the snow, near the carcass of the Hèlsteed, lay a skull-crushed Rück and a shaft-pierced Ghûl, slain by Tuck's own hand. Yet Tuck did not feel the pride that the shouting Men took in him; instead, a sickening horror filled his being. For although it is one thing to kill a snarling Vulg with arrow as he had done at Spindle Ford, it is quite another thing to slay beings that walk about upon two legs and wear clothes and speak a language. Too, it had been so utterly violent—smashing, crushing, jarring, stabbing. The sight of his victims brought only a bitter nausea upon him.
But another sight there upon the field overrode his horror and filled him with dread: Oh, please let it not be an omen, he thought, as there on the field, where the Rück had planted it, stood the Sun-Death sigil of Modru, and below it, lying crumpled in the snow, was the broken scarlet-and-gold standard of Aurion.
Tuckerby shook his head to dispel the foreboding thoughts and realized that he was being spoken to.
"Lor! What a close chase," said Corby Platt, returning Tuck's bow and quiver to the Warrow hero. Corby was a young buccan formerly of Tuck's squad but now assigned to the north gate. And he gestured at the slain enemy. "That's two for the Bosky, Tuck, and one o' them was a Ghûll"
"Wood through the heart," said Hogarth, "that's what slew the Ghol—impalement. And it's a good thing, too, for King Aurion had not the time to dismember it, for the other Ghola were riding hard upon you. Hoy! but it was a fine bit of lancery, Sir Tuck."
"It wasn't as if
I thought to do it—to spear the Ghûl with wood, that is," said Tuck. "It's just that he was there and I had the shaft in my hand, and, well, it just happened."
"Yet had you not acted, then it is we who would be crow bait, and not the other way around," said Aurion, placing a hand upon the shoulder of the Waerling. "You are a fine knight, Small One."
"But I was de-ponied!" exclaimed Tuck. "No knight am I."
"Ar, well," said Hogarth, "you just need to learn how to lean into your stirrups and clamp your thighs to your mount."
"No thank you! From now on I'll just stick to what I know." Tuck flourished his bow, and the Men upon the wall shouted another great cheer for the wee warrior. But this hail was cut short by the enemy: Boom! Doom! Doom! The great Rücken drum took up a pounding beat, and harsh horns blatted.
"Sire, they move the trebuchets forward," called Hogarth.
"They begin the attack," said Aurion. "Signal our own catapults to prepare."
Rahn! Hogarth blew upon his oxen horn, and a signal flag was raised.
Out upon the field, Tuck could see the great Ogrus wheel forth one of the catapults. This one slowly approached the north gate. Word came from the east and west that the other two trebuchets were drawing toward the first wall, too. Behind came more Ogrus, towing waggons. As the Trolls hauled the great engine into position, a sense of dread came upon Tuck, for he knew by Vidron's words earlier that these were terrible weapons.
"Lor, look where they stop," breathed Hogarth.
"What is it?" cried Tuck, alarmed but not knowing why.
"Our mangonels have not that range," answered Hogarth, pointing up the mount toward the King's own catapults between the first and second walls. "We cannot return their fire, for we cannot reach them." Doom! Boom! Doom! Doom! The Rücken drum pounded on.
Through the pulsing drum beats, a distant clatter of gears sounded, and the throwing arm of the catapult was hauled down and loaded with a black sphere from one of the waggons. A Rück with a torch set fire to the missile, and at a cry from a Hlök, Thuk! Whoosh! the arm flew up, hurling a flaring pitch-and-sulphur ball sputtering through the sky and over the wall, to smash and explode upon one of the buildings. Fire splashed outward, and smoke rose up into the air. Warriors rushed to quench the blaze, but another burning ball burst nearby, and flames raged. Again and again the blazing missiles burst upon the city, crashing down upon the tile roofs and wooden walls, and flaming liquid splashed and dripped. Soldiers rushed thither and yon, trying to extinguish the fires, to beat out the flames. But the burning sulphur and pitch clung tenaciously to the blazing wood and ran in rivers of fire beyond reach, spreading in swift strokes. And where quenched, flames would burst forth anew as fire ran back to spring up again.
Missile after missile crashed down to add to the fires, and raging flames grew and fed upon the shops and houses lining the streets, and swept across the town. Away to the south and west rose the smoke of other fires as the great trebuchet there flung its hideous cargo of holocaust upon that part of Challerain Keep. And the third catapult of the enemy hurled fire upon the eastern flank of the city. Thwok! Thock! The fuming balls hurled forth, sailing down to blast apart. Thock! Thack! Time and again the enemy catapults sounded, hurtling a fiery rain upon the open Keep. All around the mount the flames raged wildly, springing from building to building and street to street, the fires from the north racing toward those raging forth from east and west. Black smoke billowed up and sent warriors reeling and coughing. The heat choked off breath, for the very air seared the lungs, and many collapsed. The fallen were borne forth from the inferno by their exhausted comrades, yet others perished, trapped in the fire storm.
Hours passed, and still the siege engines of Modru hurled sputtering Death, the thwok! of the great arms now unheard in the roar of the flames. The answering shots of the King's mangonels fell short, and the Men on the wall wept and raged in frustration, for the city burned and they could do nought to save it. Unchecked, the missiles crashed, and red and orange columns of roaring flames cast writhing shadows out into the Dimmendark. The works of centuries of man's existence upon Mont Challerain fell victim to the ravening fire. And Tuck recalled Vidron's words; and now the Warrow knew that these indeed were terrible machines, for the ancient city of Challerain Keep was being razed to the ground.
And thus the city burned, the great engines casting holocaust nearly unto the fourth wall. When it became apparent to the King that nought could be done to quench the raging flames, he ordered that the fires be let to run their course unchecked, for the warriors must needs save themselves for the coming battle. And so for two 'Darkdays they watched the burning of much they held to be precious and wept to see such destruction. The Horde beyond the walls jeered in revelment and brandished their weapons, but they made no move to assault the battlements. They knew that the fires sapped at the strength and spirit of the Kingsmen, and they waited for the moment when the defenders' will would be at its lowest ebb. And all through the burning, and finally unto the time that black char and ashes and thin tendrils of acrid smoke were all that remained where once stood a proud city, the great drum knelled: Doom!
The sharp ring of swift steps upon polished stone jolted Tuck awake. A lanthorn-bearing warrior of the Kingsguard strode hard past the Warrow's couch and into the King's chamber. Muzzy with sleep, Tuck sat up and rubbed his eyes, wanting nothing more than to fall again into exhausted slumber. But what he heard next jarred him fully awake.
"Sire," the warrior's voice was grim, "they stir as if to attack!"
Quickly, Tuck donned the underpadding and then the silveron armor, and he slipped into his boots and down overclothing. As he flung on his Elven cloak and took up his bow and quiver, the King strode out, girting his sword and helming himself.
"Come!" commanded Aurion, and he paced away, following the warrior with the lanthorn, while Tuck ran behind, clapping his simple steel cap upon his own head.
In the stables, as Tuck saddled his pony, Danner and Patrel came with Vidron and Gildor, but there was not time to say other than "Good fortune!" Then the King and Tuck mounted and hurriedly clattered out and across the courtyard.
Down through the charred ruins they rode, and by the twisting route they took, Tuck's grey was as quick as Aurion's Wildwind. Unto the north gate of the first wall the King and Warrow came, riding amid soldiery running toward the bulwark. Whence came these warriors, where quartered, Tuck did not know, for most of the buildings had burned. Yet here they were, streaming to the defense of the first wall, as Captains among them cried out orders. Yet above the shouts Tuck heard the blare of Rücken horn and the beat of enemy drum: Doom! Doom! The advance had begun.
Mounting up to the battlement, the King looked grimly out upon the swarming Horde, and Tuck caught his breath to see them seething forward: Slowly they came, a black tide surging through the pallid Shadowlight and over the land. In the fore the great Troll-drawn siege tower trundled toward the wall, the giant wheels creaking, the Ogrus beneath an ironclad fire shield. To the rear came the Ghûls, riding to and fro behind the files of the Swarm. In boiling ranks came the Rücks and Hlöks, and to Tuck's unpracticed eye they looked to be without number, stretching beyond his view in a great arc that encircled the mount entire. But Tuck's sight was drawn directly ahead, where aimed square at the north gate came the clenched iron fist of the great ram, Whelm.
With trembling hands, Tuck fumbled among his arrows, ashamed that others might see his fright; yet if the High King or anyone else noticed aught, they did not speak of it.
"What lies beyond my vision?" asked Aurion, turning to Tuck.
The Warrow had to take a deep breath and let it out before he could speak. "Nothing, Sire, to the limit of my sight." And they turned to watch the advance.
Occasionally, lone arrows were loosed from the wall, gauging the Horde's range. At last a signal was given, and the mangonels of Challerain flung flaming missiles at the oncoming Swarm. The flaring trajectiles burst upon the ground before the advance
, and great gouts of fire splattered and ran among the teeming Horde. Rücks quailed back, but the snarling Hlöks amid them lashed with whips and drove them forward again.
Onward creaked the tower and great ram, now the targets of the King's catapults, yet the fire splashed without effect upon the brass and iron cladding. And forward they trundled.
With Tuck in his wake, Aurion Redeye strode up and down the battlement, saying words of encouragement to the defenders. As to the Warrows, scattered as they were among all of the King's companies, only a few were here along this part of the first wall. Yet to these Tuck said a few words of his own, wondering if they were as frightened as he, receiving grim smiles in return. If Danner were here, he'd be yelling insults at the Rücks, thought Tuck, and Patrel would know exactly what to tell the buccoes. But those two Warrows had duties elsewhere, with Vidron and Gildor, repelling the attack east and west; hence Tuck alone was left with the task of bucking up the courage of the young buccen near the north gate.
Doom! Doom! Doom! Doom! Now the Horde was too close to the wall for the King's catapults to strike at them. Like maggots, the Swarm seethed and boiled onward, and scaling ladders were borne among them. Forward trundled the mighty ram, forward creaked the great tower. Now the massive Ogrus could be seen in all their awesome power, and Tuck caught his breath to look at them, for they were huge.
The King gave another signal, and hissing flights of arrows were loosed, streaking down upon the enemy. Rücks threw up shields to ward against the deadly shafts. Yet many found their marks, and Rücks fell screaming. But the arrows pierced not the stone hides of the mighty Ogrus, and the tower and ram came on.
Now Rücken horns blatted, and the Horde cried out with an endless wordless yell. They broke for the wall, and their own black-shafted arrows hissed among the defenders; Men fell, pierced through. At last the howling running Swarm reached the first wall. Scaling ladders were flung up and mounted, while rope-bearing grapnels chanked upon the crenels and Rücks swarmed up. Shouting Men sprang forward to dislodge the ladders and hooks, braving arrows to cast them down. The great tower trundled forward, now almost to the wall, and the ram came unto the north gate. Boom! Boom! The iron fist was driven upon the portal, and the iron gates shuddered under its mighty blows. Burning oil was loosed through the machicolations above to splash down upon the Ogrus, but the fire shield fended the flaming liquid, splashing it aside. Calthrops, too, rained through the slots, yet Rücks with besoms swept the dire spikes aside and Trolls stepped not upon them.
The Dark Tide Page 18