by John Migacz
CHAPTER 61
Rory stood on the green wall’s parapet with his archer captains and watched Balthus and Adrianna climb the stairs to join him. The ever-present Oldwick and Hawke followed at their backs.
Rory looked into the town. The architects had the good sense not to allow any building closer than two hundred feet to any defending wall. Usually, this open area inside the walls served as a holding area for caravans, mercenary bands and an open air market in summer.
Now, a thousand archers stood at ground level, one hundred toeing a rough painted line on the cobblestones. The rest watched, awaiting their turn. Rory had split the archers who had answered the call into ten groups of one hundred each. He had chosen captains who had two main qualifications, the ability to lead and the ability to teach. He was bringing a new concept to archery warfare and knew it might be difficult for some of the men to accept.
“Good morning, Balthus,” said Rory. “I see you two are up early this morning.” He nodded to Adrianna.
“As are you,” said Balthus.
Rory turned to his captains. “First we will try for the longest distance, the blue stakes, and work backwards.”
Balthus placed an arm around Adrianna’s waist and watched with interest.
Rory lifted a twelve-foot-long pole and placed one end on the edge of the parapet floor. At the very top, the pole had an eight-foot long crossbar painted red. Rory handed it to one of his captains to hold.
“All right, you boar herders!” roared Rory down at the assembled archers. “This shouldn’t be too difficult an idea to grasp even with your tiny brains.” He waited until he had their attention. “When the captain says ‘draw,’ draw and aim to fire just over the level of the red bar!” As he spoke, he paced the parapet, hands on his hips. “Don’t just fire over the red bar, shoot at the same level as the red bar and straight at the wall in front of you.” He spread his arms. “Pretend that the red bar extends all the way along the wall. I know you can pretend! You are pretending to be archers in my command instead of the ladies that you are!” That got a few laughs. He stopped pacing and faced the archers. “Do you want to kill the enemy?”
He was answered with cries of, “Yes, Sir!”
He cupped his ear and leaned forward. “I can’t hear you!”
“Yes, Sir!” answered the archers at the top of their lungs.
Rory nodded. “I have given you a lot of don’ts. Here’s a do. Do it right and the enemy will die! Die by the hundreds, die by the thousands. Die because of our arrows! Do what your captains tell you and not one of those sons o’ bitches will reach the wall. Remember, you are shooting to kill your enemy before he can kill you, not poking sows with sticks or your pecker like most of you were doing last month.” That got a few more laughs. “Do you have any questions?”
One young man held up a hand. “How are we supposed to kill the enemy when we can’t see him?”
Rory stared down at him. “You don’t need to see the enemy. You’re supposed to do what we say. Do it right and the only enemies you will see will be dead ones. Any more questions?”
There were none.
Rory turned to the captain holding the pole and nodded. “Proceed.”
The captain held up his arm and yelled, “Draw and aim!”
Balthus quickly turned his back to the archers, grabbed Adrianna, and pulled her down in front of him.
The captain brought his arm down sharply. “Loose!” A hundred arrows, released erratically, flew over the wall.
Rory looked out over the parapet and watched them land. “Terrible shot pattern.” He approached the edge of the parapet and looked down. “Is this the meeting of the ladies’ archery club?” he roared. “That was terrible! We will do this again. As a matter of fact, we will do this until we get it right, even if it means missing breakfast.” He began to pace again. “And lunch and dinner!” He turned to his captain. “Again.”
Balthus grabbed Adrianna’s arm and they ran down the parapet steps.
“Draw and aim!” The captain again brought his arm down sharply. “Loose!” This time, the arrows flew as one. With a sharp ‘thock’, one of the arrows buried itself into the red bar.
Rory looked over the parapet and smiled. “Good distance, good grouping.” He glanced up at the arrow sticking in the red bar, then looked down at the archers. “Which one of you knuckleheads just killed my red bar?”
The archers laughed.
Rory began to pace again. “We will try it again, and if I find who killed my red bar, I’ll tie him up there and he will become the new red bar. Now let’s do it again.” He signaled to the captain.
They practiced for five more volleys before Rory smiled and nodded. He approached the parapet edge and looked down at his men. “Better. Now go out and collect your arrows and imagine being on the receiving end of that hail of death.” Rory turned to the Captain. “Drill the next hundred when the men get back.”
He climbed down the steps and joined Balthus and Adrianna as the men rushed past. “Sorry to worry you like that, but I knew none of these men would dare shoot you.”
“I don’t have your confidence,” said Balthus. He waved his hand in the air. “What exactly is all this for?”
Rory smiled. “Massed fire. We will have ten ranks of archers shooting the same way as you have just seen. The exercise today is to find the right length of pole that matches the distance markers out on the field of approach. We will be making adjustable poles. The archery captains then note which colored marker the enemy is approaching, hoist the pole to the matching color mark and have his men fire. He’ll adjust the pole as the enemy nears, that way the Sevoal will have to face massed fire all the way in.
Balthus shook his head in wonder. “May I make a suggestion? The weak link is your captain. All it takes is one trooper sneezing to send an arrow through him and your good idea. Place the captain behind a wooden shield and have him use colored flags to signal draw and fire. The men won’t be able to hear him over the din of battle anyway, but they will see a flag.”
Rory nodded. “Good idea. I’ll put three men up there just in case one becomes… indisposed.”
“This is a very clever idea, Rory,” said Adrianna. “How did you think of it?”
Rory shook his head and smiled. “Sorry, Ma’am, but I can’t take credit for it. This was something devised a long time ago to get poorly armed troops to fire at a single spot when trying to bring down flying airships.”
Balthus stared at him for an instant then grabbed Rory’s shoulder. “Flying air ships?” Balthus’ voice rose an octave. “Rory, are you saying you have the means to fly in the air like a bird?”
Rory looked surprised for a second. “Oh, yeah, I forgot. You guys are such a part of our secret little group that I forget myself.” He nodded. “Yes, we have learned to fly in the air. Not quite like a bird, but a lot faster.”
Balthus covered his face with his hands for a moment, then dropped them, uncovering a huge grin. “It’s the world of my imaginings! Just to know it exists fills me with awe. To fly like a bird has always been a dream of mine.” He beamed at Adrianna. “Such a place, filled with wonders we have only imagined.” He looked back to Rory. “Let’s kill these pesky Sevoal so I can spend time talking Blackie into a visit to your world.”
Rory laughed and held up his hands. “You’re on your own with that one, Balthus. I want no part of that conversation.”
“Not a problem, Rory. I’ll just get him drunk. After all…” Balthus looked skyward, “it worked with you.”
Rory punched him in the arm, shook his head and ran back up the stairs.
“Good man, that one,” said Balthus to Adrianna. “Let’s go see about some breakfast.”
They were halfway to the citadel when they came across Bo leading a detail of about a hundred men. All carried scythes, shovels or axes.
“Bo,�
� greeted Balthus. “Another tree-cutting detail?”
Bo stepped aside to let his men pass. “No, not quite.”
“What then?” asked Adrianna.
A hard look swept over Bo’s face. “These bastards have kept me from going home and injured a friend of mine. I figure it’s time to get nasty. I am planning a little surprise for their arrival.”
Balthus nodded. “Nasty is the only way to be in war. Get ’em!”
Bo saluted with his axe and jogged to catch up to his troopers.
“I think there are too many secrets around here,” said Adrianna. “I hope we don’t get in each other’s way or work at cross-purposes.”
“You’re right, Love. It’s time for secrets to be set aside. Let’s call a council of war tonight with our little group.” Adrianna nodded and they made their way to the citadel’s dining hall.
Upon arriving, they heard Valerian’s high-pitched voice over the babble of others at the main table. Dieya had done an excellent job of letting the Baron think he was running the show, and Valerian think the same thing. Dieya’s logic, charm, magic, coercion, or all four quickly straightened out the few squabbles that had occurred.
Valerian sat next to the Baron and was promoting his cause, but the Baron was more interested in his sugared bun than Valerian’s plea.
“I’m sure, Baron,” droned Valerian, “that you see it my way. The savages’ arrows might be able to pierce our armor but they will be too busy running away to fire any.”
Balthus approached Valerian. “But what if even one of them finds the courage and lets fly with an unerring arrow?”
“Casualties are to be expected,” chirped Valerian.
“Even if it’s you?” said Balthus, biting into a biscuit.
The King’s Champion stabbed his eating dagger into the table. “Damn it, man. It would almost be worth it! Death might be preferable than idling around here.”
The air shimmered in the middle of the hall for an instant, then Dieya materialized. He walked toward the table. “You will not be inactive for long, Sir Valerian. The Sevoal are on the move.”
“How many?” asked Balthus.
“More than expected.” Dieya hesitated a moment. “Seventeen thousand.”
His statement quieted the boisterous table.
“How long do we have, Dieya?” asked Balthus.
“Two, maybe three days at most.”
Last-minute preparations filled the rest of the day. A fire broke out and enabled Bo to evaluate the fire squad he had trained. They limited the fire to one house and the squad was deemed a success.
It was already dark when Bo, Balthus, Adrianna, Rory and Dieya, or the “war council” as they dubbed themselves, came together for dinner in one of the Baron’s private rooms.
Wanting to speak freely, Balthus had taken Oldwick aside and explained the need for privacy. The large man listened with narrowed eyes and a deeply furrowed brow, showing what he thought of the idea.
Balthus explained that the Sorcerer would be giving them secret commands from the King that no one else must hear. Appealing to Oldwick’s loyalty had done the job. The giant didn’t like it but he had agreed.
“We will be around you like smoke in the dark,” said Oldwick. “You might smell us, but you won’t see us.” The arrangement worked well.
Rory was the last to arrive at the small stone-enclosed room. His face contained traces of black that his quick washing had missed. He was carrying a cheap metal pitcher with a mashed, flattened top.
“Rory, welcome,” said Balthus. “No need to bring your own wine, we saved some for you.”
Rory smiled, sat, and began eating without a word.
The meal was quieter than any of their others and soon finished. When the last plate was cleared, Balthus banged his tankard on the table for attention. “Friends, we have been going about, making our own preparations, and I think it’s time we shared our secrets. Besides, Adrianna has pointed out to me that perhaps we might be working at cross-purposes.”
“She always was smarter than you,” said Rory, much to the delight of the table.
Balthus favored him with a raised eyebrow, then continued. “I will go first. You all know that I have spent some of Dieya’s gold on pots. I received three wagonloads of goods. Only the first one held these.” He stood, reached behind him and plopped an empty clay pot onto the table. He screwed on the lid and twisted a piece of cloth into the empty hole.
He lit the oil-treated cloth and it burned brightly. “The other wagons hold all the naphtha I could find.”
A collective “Ahh” of realization arose from the table.
“Clever. A destructive weapon and a good delivery system,” said Dieya.
“I thought we should save them for use against their siege engines – if they build any, that is,” said Balthus. “If they don’t, fire dropped from above might tend to discourage their archers.”
Bo and Rory applauded and Balthus took a bow.
“Adrianna,” said Balthus, “is it time for your disclosure?”
She nodded and stood. “I have been organizing the town’s women into a medical force led by the Arvari hotara. We’ve made stretchers, rolled bandages, gathered herbs and collected medical tools. Many of the stronger women have volunteered for litter duty. We have several makeshift hospitals where we can bring the casualties. The town’s remaining four doctors will be there when the attack starts.”
Everyone applauded as Adrianna sat down. “Great for morale,” said Rory. The group quieted and all looked toward Bo.
“What I’ve done is not as flashy nor as flammable as Balthus’ weapon.” Bo stood. “You might have noticed that we have cut down the tall grass about two hundred yards back from the walls. We also dug small holes about a foot in diameter and two-foot deep around the castle walls.” He held up an inch-thick, sharply pointed stick. “These babies are planted in the bottom of each. We left the cut grass where it fell to cover the holes.”
“Stake pits! Great idea, Bo,” said Balthus. “It’s so good I should have thought of it myself.”
They hissed Balthus into silence.
Bo continued. “The staked area is only about a hundred feet wide but the holes will disable any mount that steps in one. The holes are not big enough to provide cover, just hurt them.” He shrugged. “I have posted men so no one accidentally blunders into the field.”
Applause followed Bo’s statement and he sat down abruptly, his ears turning red.
“How about you, Rory?” said Adrianna. “You have been seen covered in black the last few days. You are up to something.”
Rory stood. “Yes, I am. This is something that will first need approval from the Planetary Dieya.” He dumped the contents of a small pouch onto the table, making a small mound of black powder.
Balthus studied it closely.
Bo looked amazed. “Where did you learn to make this, and where did you find the chemicals?”
Rory smiled. “It was the odors that got me on to it – the sulfur and the handy waste piles for nitrates. It was simple once I got past the smells.” He shrugged. “I taught a course on planetary survival and guerilla training some years back.”
Balthus stared at the black pile. “Sneezing powder?”
Rory ignored him and directed his speech to Dieya, who stared at the powder as if Rory had dumped offal on the table. “Dieya, I have mined this exclusively myself. No one knows the ingredients. I thought we could assemble the devices ourselves and call them ‘The Sorcerer’s Fist’ or something on that order. Then it all will be put down to magic.” He looked to Dieya, as did everyone else.
Balthus found it interesting to watch Dieya’s face. He didn’t know what the black powder was, but Dieya certainly did, and his reaction went from disbelief to anger to acceptance.
“Ye gods, Dieya,” said Balthus, “it can’t be that bad.”
Dieya pointed his chin at a candle. “Show him,” he said.
Rory took the candle and held it to the black powder. The small explosion of sound, light and smoke caused Balthus to leap up, knock over his chair and pull his sword halfway from its scabbard.
“What the hell was that?” he demanded. He gingerly picked up his chair and reclaimed his seat.
“Progress, Balthus. Progress,” said Dieya quietly.
“It’s like what destroyed Dieya’s base, but less powerful,” said Rory.
“How is it used?” asked Balthus, smoothing his tunic. “It has to do more than frighten the heck out of someone.”
Rory continued to address his remarks to Dieya. “Dieya, my delivery system works like this.” He picked up the pitcher he had brought with him. “I bought one hundred of these cheap tin pitchers from one of the merchants who was leaving town. I have nails embedded in parchment running around the inside of the pitcher. You mash the top like this one and pour powder in through the spout. Then you crimp the spout around a fuse and you have instant grenade. I figure we could toss them down at the base of the walls when the Sevoal try to scale them.”
“Have you assembled a grenadier squad yet?” asked Dieya.
“No. Not yet.”
Dieya sat in though for several moments. “I had hoped to be in my grave a hundred years before the stench of cordite polluted Ravar.” He sighed. “This is a minor infraction compared to what will happen if the Kraken win here.” He sat forward. “Strikedag, you have done a fine job. These are now called the ‘Sorcerer’s Fists.’ Assemble your grenadiers.”
Balthus sat, stroking his beard, waiting until the matter between Rory and Dieya was settled. “What exactly does this ‘Sorcerer’s Fist’ do?” he asked.
“You saw how the powder burned quickly and violently?” asked Dieya.
Balthus nodded.
“When contained within something, the burning powder’s violence has nowhere to go but out. It will blow the pitcher apart along with the nails on the inside. Anyone within – ” He looked at Rory.
“Seven to ten feet.”
“– seven to ten feet will most likely take some damage.”
“Ye gods!” said Balthus. He looked at each of the men not born on his world. “With each wonderful invention on your world comes a balance of something terrible.” He shook his head and took a long drink of wine.