A Darkness at Sethanon (Riftware Sage Book 3)

Martin ran after the dog as the sound of rocks coming loose filled the air. With an almost explosive release, the rockslide came down in a torrent. Martin could hear his companions swearing and yelling as a rain of small rocks bounced down the trail beside him.

 

Martin halted to observe the fall of rock. Dust filled the air, clouding his vision. Then, as the dust began to settle, he could hear Laurie calling his name. He dashed back and began to climb the slide. At the top, hands grabbed him, and through watering eyes he saw Laurie. “Roald,” he said, pointing.

 

The mercenary had lost his footing, sliding down the hillside to land on the wrong side of the rocks blocking the road. He sat with his back to the fall, facing up the trail to where the moredhel and trolls regrouped. “We’ll cover for you,” shouted Martin.

 

Roald turned and with a grim smile shouted, “Can’t. My legs are broken.” He pointed to where his legs stretched out before him, and Martin and Laurie could see the blood beginning to pool. Bone was visible through one trouser leg. He sat with his sword in his lap, daggers held ready to throw. “Get along. I’ll hold them up a few minutes. Get away.”

 

Baru came up beside Laurie and Martin. “We must get away,” said the Hadati.

 

Laurie said, “We won’t leave you!”

 

Roald shouted, but his eyes were fixed up the trail where vague shapes moved through the dust. “I always wanted to die a hero. Don’t spoil it for me, Laurie. Make up a song. Make up a good one. Now get out of here!”

 

Baru and Martin pulled Laurie down the rocks, and after a moment, he came willingly. When they reached the place where Blutark waited, Laurie was the first to begin the run down the trail. His face was a grim mask, but his eyes were now dry. Behind they could hear the shouts of the trolls and moredhel, accompanied by cries of pain, and they knew Roald was giving a good account of himself. Then the sounds of struggle ceased.

 

 

 

 

 

THIRTEEN - First blood

 

 

Trumpets sounded.

 

Armengarian bowmen looked out upon the host that stood ready to assault the city. For six days they had waited for the attack, and now it was under way. Again a goblin trumpeter sounded the call, answered up and down the line by other horns. Drums beat and the order for attack was given. The line of attackers rolled forward, a living wave ready to beat against the walls of Armengar. At first they moved slowly, then as those in the van began to run, the host surged forward. Guy raised his hand and signalled for the catapults to loose their deadly missiles upon those beyond the walls. Stones flew overhead in a high arc, to crash down upon the attackers. Goblins sprang over the bodies of fallen comrades. This was their third assault upon the city since dawn. The first attack had broken before they had reached the wall. The second had carried the attackers to the moat, but there they had broken and run.

 

They came forward until they were at the limit of the archers’ range. Guy ordered the bowmen to fire. A rain of arrows descended upon the goblins and moredhel. Hundreds fell, some dead, others wounded, but all were trampled under the boots of those who came behind.

 

And still they came forward. Orders were given, and scaling ladders were brought up, to be placed upon heavy platforms thrown across the moat. The ladders were raised only to be pushed back by long poles. In futile effort, the goblins were again and again seeking to climb the ladders, while death rained down from above. Guy signalled and buckets and cauldrons of scalding-hot oil were poured down upon the attackers. The rain of stones, arrows, oil, and flame became too intense for the attackers to survive. Within minutes, trumpets sounded from behind the lines and Murmandamus’s forces were in full retreat. Guy ordered a cease-fire.

 

He looked down at the litter of bodies below the castle, hundreds of dead and wounded. Turning to Amos and Arutha, he said, “Their commander is without imagination. He wastes lives.”

 

Amos pointed to where a company of moredhel sat atop a hillock, observing the assault. “What he does is count our bowmen.”

 

Guy swore. “I must be slipping. I didn’t see them.”

 

Arutha said, “You’ve gone without sleep for two days. You’re tired.”

 

Guy said, “And I’m not as young as I used to be.”

 

Amos laughed. “You never were.”

 

Armand de Sevigny came up and reported, “There’s no activity along any sector and the redoubts along the back of the cliff report nothing of note behind us.”

 

Guy studied the setting sun. “We’ll be done with them for this day. Order the companies down in turn and get them fed. I’ll want watches of one in five this night. We’re all tired.”

 

Guy walked along the wall to the stairs leading downward, the others following. Jimmy and Locklear came hurrying up the stairs, wearing leather armour provided by the Armengarians. Arutha said, “Pulling first watch?”

 

“Yes,” said Jimmy. “We traded with a couple of fellows we met.”

 

Locklear said, “The girls are on first watch, too.”

 

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