Talon Of The Silver Hawk Part 31

Creed nodded, knowing that every man in the village had heard that. "We're ready."

Tal nodded. They were ready. Orodon warriors were even now making their way along the palisades, holding both their own weapons and the new swords and bows which Tal had brought in one of his two wagons. As Tal had guessed, like his own people, the Orodon harboured a collection of weaponry that ranged from the merely serviceable to the downright useless. Many swords were family treasures which had been handed down from father to son, with an accompanying story as to how each nick and crack had been earned. Heavy with honour, they would fail as soon as the first blow was struck.

And while the Orodon might have good hunting bows; war bows were better. The men of Queala were not stupid; they tossed aside their own short bows for the new composite recurved bows Tal had purchased in Roldem from a trader from Kesh. The first time he had seen one of these was when Rondar had used one, for it was the favourite weapon of the Ashunta when on horseback. Made from laminated bone and wood, cured to curve one way, then curved back on itself, it was a short bow with stunning power. In the hands of a strong bowman, it could punch an arrow through light armour like a crossbow. And Tal had brought crossbows, too. A dozen Orodon women stood in doors in the village, armed with them. Should the gate fail and the riders enter the stockade, they would be ambushed from every building they pa.s.sed.

The older children were also armed. Any child over the age of ten carried a short blade and the older girls and boys also had been shown how to crank, load and fire the crossbows. Tal had only to explain once, around the first campfire the first night, what had happened to the women and children of his village to convince the men to put aside their tradition of hiding their families in the round house. The Orodon men were loving husbands and fathers: swiftly they helped their wives and children prepare to fight.

Creed left the south wall, crossed the compound, and climbed the ladder to stand next to Tal. "I wish you'd let me take half a dozen lads into the woods, Captain."

"I know, and if I hadn't sent twenty men to the other villages, I'd gladly let you."

"It will break them if we hit 'em in the a.r.s.e when they're on the verge of being repulsed. I know mercenaries, and while Raven may be a murdering loon, some of his boys will quit if it looks like they're going to be slaughtered. Not all of them think they're invincible."

"We can harry them from here."

"Well, I'll say it one more time," said Creed. "Those pits that keep them out, they keep us in." He pointed to where the twig marked the safe route. "We've got to go there and then over to the rock to get out, and if they've dropped some lads into the pits, they'll see that. Raven can put three bowmen over there-" he indicated a place of relative safety in the trees "-to keep us bottled up while he regroups. If we don't kill at least half his men, it'll be a siege, and it won't take that murderous b.a.s.t.a.r.d long to realize it." Suddenly he paused and sniffed the air. "Smoke!"

Jasquenel also said, "Yes! Pitch smoke."

"They mean to burn us out," Tal said grimly. "They fired my village as they came in." He turned and shouted in Orodon, "Bowmen! Target the riders with torches first!" Then he repeated the order in the Common Tongue. A general acknowledgement came from the bowmen on the wall. Tal turned to John Creed. "You'd better get back to the south wall. They're going to hit us here and and there, I'm certain." there, I'm certain."

Creed nodded and returned to his post. Moments later a sentry at the southwest corner of the stockade shouted, "Movement in the trees!" and suddenly hors.e.m.e.n erupted from the woods, racing into the clearing.

"Mark your targets and don't waste arrows!" Creed shouted.

Tal watched in fascination as the riders galloped toward the first line of traps. He searched faces to see if he could spy Raven or any other man who might look like those who had killed his family. But these were just men, and his chest constricted at the thought that some of those responsible for the death of his people might go unpunished. Then the first rider reached the line of traps. For the briefest of moments, Tal wondered if the canvas-and-earth coverings were too st.u.r.dy, for the horse's front hooves struck it, and for an instant it held. Then the canvas and twig frame under it collapsed, and the horse went down. A man's scream echoed the horse's as both animal and rider were impaled on sharpened stakes. The riders' momentum was too great for those in the second or third ranks to rein in before they also plunged into the traps. A few lucky ones managed to get their horses to leap over the ditches, landing on solid ground a yard or two beyond the ditch, only to find two strides later that another line of traps had been dug.

As the fourth rank of riders reined in, Tal shouted, "Catapults!"

The two boys who had been given the responsibility for firing the war engines yanked hard on the lanyards that released the big arms, launching huge baskets of fist-sized rocks into the air. The missiles came crashing down onto a dozen riders, unhorsing many of them, and killing or injuring them all. Tal made a quick count and reckoned that thirty or more riders were down, either too injured to fight, or dead. His men had yet to suffer an injury. He knew that would change. Then he saw Raven. The leader of the marauders emerged from the treeline, calling for his men to regroup. Those nearest the wall were being cut down by archers, and any man with a torch was struck with half a dozen arrows before he could throw his flaming brand. Even with his exceptional sight, Talon couldn't make out Raven's features, but he could imagine that the mercenary captain's face would be set in an enraged mask as he shouted orders to his panic-stricken men. What they had expected to be an easy raid-the burning and destruction of a sleepy village, executed with few casualties-had turned out to be something of a rout in the first five minutes, with nearly a quarter of Raven's men dead or too injured to continue the fight.

Suddenly Tal understood he had been too cautious. Had he let Creed take half a dozen bowmen into the trees behind Raven's position, a flight of arrows at this moment would have broken them. They would be in full flight now instead of regrouping for another a.s.sault. Instead, he realized Raven was not going to let the defenders sit comfortably, but was hatching some other plan. He watched men dismounting and disappearing into the woods. Within minutes they could hear the sound of axes, as trees were being felled.

"What now?" Tal called to Creed.

"I think he means to deal with the pits," said Creed, waving his hand to indicate the pocked ground where the network of pits stood revealed.

Tal glanced around and saw that everyone was still holding their place. He hurried down a ladder, crossed the yard, and climbed up next to Creed. "You were right about the archers in the woods, so I'll be far more willing to listen to anything you have to say now."

"I could still get some men over the north wall," said Creed, "but surprise is no longer possible. I think we should just sit tight until we see what he's got up his sleeve."

"What would you do if you were Raven?"

"I'd turn tail and trek back over those mountains to the south, but then I'm not a murderous lunatic who dare not show his master failure. No, I'd be building turtles for my men to use to get close to the wall, and I'd be building ramps to drop over those trenches, and then I'd get some men in close enough to fire the logs of the stockade. Either the gates burn off and I rush the place, or I wait until the defenders come out and take them as they do."

"How do we deal with these turtles?"

Creed swore. "If this was a conventional siege, they'd have been made in an engineer's shop; they'd be big things, on wheels, with a ram hidden under a roof, or room for men inside to shelter from arrows. Then they'd have to get close to the gate or down to the wall so they could start excavating at the plinth and collapse it. So we'd pour burning oil over it, or drop hooks on ropes and hike it up with a winch so that it turned over . . ."

"But this isn't a castle and they're not building anything that fancy. What do you think they'll do?"

"They'll construct a sh.e.l.l of sorts in which half a dozen or so men can run along while we bounce arrows off their heads until they can get close enough to the wall to throw something. If they've got the right kind of oil, they can fire a section of the stockade and make a breech."

Tal glanced back to the boys standing next to the catapults. "Can you rewind those things?" he called down.

One of the older boys nodded enthusiastically, and shouted, "I watched them load it!" He grabbed up a long pole and fitted it into a notch in a gear and yelled to the other boys, "Come on, give me your weight!"

The boys piled on and levered the simple arm of the catapult back to its original position. One of the women in a building nearby ran over to help. Suddenly all the women and children were there, rewinding and setting the catapults, locking down the throwing arm.

"Put anything you can find in there that can do some damage!" shouted Tal. To Creed he said, "I wished we'd known we'd get a second round off. I'd have ordered more rocks brought inside."

"No sense worrying about what we might have done," said Creed. "Better to worry about what Raven is going to do next."

"So, when will he make his next move?"

Creed looked around and seemed to be thinking for a long time. Eventually, he said, "I think he'll wait until nightfall. If he comes at us in darkness we lose some of the advantages we have now. He can get his ramps down and maybe our archers won't be as accurate while he's doing that. Maybe he'll slip a small company over to the east wall and get a few men over while most of his boys are pounding on the west gate."

Creed's prediction turned out to be apt; throughout the afternoon, the defenders could hear the sound of axes and hammers echoing through the woods, but no attack came. Then at sundown, as the last rays of light were reflected off clouds high above the western horizon, the sounds of building ceased. For long minutes the villagers seemed to be holding their breath. The breeze rustled the branches, and birds chirped their evening song but otherwise all was silent. Then a low rumbling sound, the sound of boots cracking twigs, and the snort of horses could be heard. A moment later a long wooden bridge emerged from the trees, and after that came the turtle. It looked like a flat boat with square ends, about twenty feet long, and the men who carried it walked in a line, each man with his hands above his head lifting it overhead. Tal grabbed his bow, though he judged the distance too far for a decent shot in this fading light. Then the men carrying the turtle turned beneath the wooden sh.e.l.l to face the wall and started walking forward, those with the wooden bridge falling in behind.

"Will arrows have any effect?" Tal asked Creed.

"That's fresh-cut wood; d.a.m.n close to green. If we had some naphtha or oil that would stick and burn, maybe, but . . ." Creed shrugged. "We might get it to char in places, but it won't catch fire."

An arrow whistled off the wall on the other side of the gate, striking the ground a few yards in front of the advancing turtle. Tal cried, "Save the arrows!" Then he turned back to Creed. "I have a plan," he said.

"Good," said Creed. "I always like it when a captain has a plan; makes getting killed a lot less random."

"Take some men and pull down the bracing on the gate."

Creed's forehead furrowed. "You want the gate to fail?"

"At the right time."

Creed nodded. He turned and shouted to a group of men nearby, "Follow me!"

They quickly set to dismantling a series of braces and reinforcing timbers that had been put in place to make the gate that much harder to breech. Talon looked from the men frantically pulling away the supports to the turtle advancing across the ground outside. It reached the first line of pits and halted, the men underneath waiting as those behind brought forward the bridge.

"Arrows!" Tal shouted.

Bowmen along the ramparts arced arrows high into the darkening sky, most landing harmlessly, though a shout and a scream suggested that some damage had been done. Tal didn't think he was going to have any success with his archers, but he knew Raven would think it suspicious if the defenders didn't hara.s.s the attackers while they bridged the first trench.

Raven's men grunted with the exertion as they quickly ran the bridge out over the trench. The men in the turtle backed up, then moved in file until they were end-on to the bridge and quickly hurried across the first trench. When they reached the edge of the second, they turned again, providing as much cover as they could, and a second bridge emerged from the woods.

Tal could see Raven exhorting his men in the failing light, though he couldn't hear exactly what he said. Torches were lit within the stockade, and Tal refined his idea. He turned and shouted down to Jasquenel's son, a youth named Tansa, "Pile as much flammable material as you can around the catapults, and be ready to fire them when I give you the signal." The young man didn't hesitate, but ran off to pa.s.s the word. Within moments, women, children, and a few older men were carrying personal items from the various log buildings and piling them around the catapult.

Creed shouted up, "We've finished!"

"Stay there," Tal said. He hurried down the ladder. "Here's what I want you to do. Take a dozen of your men and horses and hold them back at the east wall. Be ready to ride. I want your other men behind that building there-" he pointed to the first building on the right, as one entered the gate "-out of sight when the gates come down. I want Raven to think he's got a rout in progress, and I pray he comes riding in mad as h.e.l.l and doesn't realize it's not just a bunch of Orodon hillmen he's facing."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to be on the wall with as many of the Orodon who will go up there with me."

"Man, you're going to burn."

"Not if I get off in time."

Creed shrugged. "Well, what's the signal?"

"No chance of a signal from me. It's going to be too noisy. Tell whoever you think is best able to lead to just start shooting from up on the south wall when most of Raven's company is inside the compound, then yell down to the men you've got behind that building to rush them from the rear. When you think it's right, come riding hard and we'll roll them up."

"Captain, it's crazy. We've only got a dozen men and Raven's got a hundred and twenty or more."

"The odds will be less by the time you hit them. And he won't know how many riders you've got. Try to make as much noise as you can: he won't be able to see much with all the smoke."

"Smoke?"

Tal pointed to where the villagers were busy putting everything that could burn around the catapults.

Creed shook his head. "Man comes to burn this place to the ground and you're going to do it for him?"

Tal laughed. "These people can always rebuild, but they've got to be alive to do it." He thought for a moment. He had thirty mercenary fighters and another twenty-five adult Orodon warriors, as well as some boys who could be pressed into service, as well as about thirty fit women who would fight if it came down to it. "If I can knock Raven's force down below seventy by the time you come riding out, we can throw equal numbers at them."

"It'll be a slaughter," said Creed.

"These people are fighting for their lives, John. What are Raven's men fighting for?"

"Gold, but they're hard, practised men, and . . ." Creed shook his head in resignation. "You're the captain, and I'm d.a.m.ned if I have a better plan, so we'll do it your way."

A shout from the wall told Tal the second bridge was across the second trench. He said, "Pick your best dozen hors.e.m.e.n, John, and may the G.o.ds be with us all." Then he turned and ran to the ladder, climbed quickly to the wall, and started pa.s.sing the word to the men as to what he wanted next.

The mercenaries all left, some going to the south wall, others moving behind the building as ordered. To Jasquenel, Tal said, "I need brave men who will stay here with me and shoot arrows at Raven's men once they're inside the compound."

"All of our men will stay if you wish."

"I need just ten," said Tal. "Five on this side of the gate with me, and five more on the other side. Make it your best hunters. But they must make the invaders think there are many more of us on the walls, so tell them to yell, and move back and forth."

"It will be done."

"Tell the others to go to that building below us-" he pointed to the building opposite the one where Creed was placing the eighteen mercenaries "-and wait behind it. When you see the men I brought attack from behind that building over there, attack the enemy with everyone who can fight." He paused. "And tell the women to start screaming, as if they are watching their children being murdered, when I set the fire over there." He pointed to the catapults. "Make it sound as if all is lost, but I want them all armed, and ready to defend the children."

"They will be, Talon of the Silver Hawk," said Jasquenel with a bow of his head. "No matter what occurs this night, the Orodon will sing your name, Last of the Orosini."

Tal gripped his arm and said, "May our ancestors watch us and smile upon us tonight."

"May it be so," replied the old chieftain, and he started pa.s.sing orders.

Looking down from his vantage, Tal saw the turtle was now almost up to the wall. Arrows stuck out of the wood like quills on a porcupine, while others bounced off harmlessly. He shouted, "Save your arrows!"

The turtle remained below the gate for nearly half an hour. Tal wondered what they were doing, and then the men below started to withdraw. Glancing down, he saw something nestled against the gate, though in the darkness, he couldn't make out what it was. He hurried down and made his way through the village to where Creed waited, and described what he had seen.

"Skins full of something nasty, something that burns," Creed said. "Watch out for their bowmen lighting arrows to fire it off."

Tal nodded. "Thanks. Good luck." He ran back and reached the wall just as the archers standing in front of Raven and his captains started to light their arrows. Tal drew his own bow and sighted. If they were close enough to strike the gate, they were close enough to be targets. As soon as the first fire-arrow was loosed, Tal shot his own arrow. An archer screamed, then Tal was drawing arrows and nocking them as quickly as possible. Five of Raven's archers were wounded or killed-he didn't know which-before enough arrows struck the bags of oil at the base of the gate to ignite them.

As Creed had predicted, it was something nasty, a foul-smelling oil that burned with a very intense heat. Black smoke rose up and threatened to choke Tal and the others on the wall, but they held their places. Blinking away tears from the smoke, Tal waited.

For ten minutes the gate burned, and Tal crouched low behind the upper part of the stockade wall. He heard timbers creaking as the heat washed over him in waves, and knew that the binding which held the logs together would soon part, and then the gate would disintegrate.

Moments later, the logs fell and the gate lay open. In the distance, Tal heard a voice shout and then the pounding of horses' hooves preceded a hundred men charging in file towards the first bridge.

Tal raised his bow. "Get ready!" he commanded, and he waited for the first rider to get close enough for him to fire.

CHAPTER TWENTY - Battle.

Tal aimed.

The first rider within range flew backwards from his saddle as another archer got in a lucky shot. Tal followed an instant later and one of Raven's mercenaries screamed as he was also lifted out of his saddle.

Tal turned and shouted down to the boys by the catapults, "Fire!"

The lads holding the lanyards pulled hard, and rocks, pottery, broken furniture, and even cooking utensils were hurled at the enemy.

"Burn it!"

Torches were thrust into rags soaked in oil so that black smoke rose from the catapults as the boys ran to their designated locations. The older ones picked up the bows that had been left for them and got ready to attempt to take out any rider who might get within range.

Tal turned his attention back to the attackers and started firing. He struck at least two more before the column raced into the open grounds in the centre of the village. Smoke from the gate choked the night air, and the fire from the catapults suddenly illuminated the enemy.

Tal shouted to a woman down below, "Tell the others to start the screaming!"

She complied and instantly the air was filled with the sounds of terror, the women screeching and wailing as if their babies were being butchered before their very eyes.

The riders who cleared the gate looked around in confusion, momentarily disorientated. They could hear the screaming, but there were no women in sight, and no men on the ground attacking them. Instead they were being peppered with arrows by the men on the wall. Soon, raiders were falling on all sides.

"Dismount!" shouted one man, leaping from his horse to crouch behind its neck. "They're up on the walls!" He pointed.

Tal and the others loosed their arrows as fast as they could, keeping the riders pinned down. In the Orodon language Tal cried, "Stay here and keep shooting!"

Ignoring the ladder, he jumped onto the roof of a nearby building. Then with another leap, he moved onto the eaves of the building and threw himself at the nearest raider who remained in the saddle, pulling the man down and drawing his sword as he rolled to his feet. The raider already had his sword out, having managed to hang on to it, but he died before he realized where his opponent stood.

Tal was now in the middle of a milling band of more than a hundred men, all attempting to hold onto horses made frantic by the smoke, the cries of dying men, and the constant sound of arrows speeding past them. Occasionally an arrow would strike a horse, causing it to rear or kick, and then the animals nearby would panic and try to pull away. More than one raider was suddenly yanked off his feet, or dragged a dozen yards by a maddened horse.