Smoke covered the field and the defenders almost collapsed from fatigue and lack of clean air. Large constructions of wood and brush, fashioned in such a manner as to allow quick ignition, had been brought forward on wagons and placed before the walls. They had been set afire and had sent up a foul black smoke. A different manner of scaling had been attempted, long ladders set atop platforms. Companies of goblins ran forward carrying these. To the defenders it seemed a wall of black smoke had obscured the air, then suddenly a ladder would loom out of the smoke before them. While they vainly tried to push aside the fixed ladders, attackers swarmed up them. The attackers wore cloths over their mouths and noses, treated with some mixture of oils and herbs, which filtered out the smoke. Several positions along the wall were overrun, but Arutha helped direct reinforcements, which soon pushed the attackers back. Guy had ordered naphtha poured down upon the fires, causing them to explode beyond the ability of the attackers to control. Soon an inferno blazed at the base of the wall, and those upon the platform ladders were left to die in burning agony. When the fire had at last died down, not a ladder was left intact.
The late afternoon sun sank behind the citadel and Guy motioned Arutha to his side. “I think they’re done for the day.”
Arutha said, “I don’t know. Look how they stand.” Guy saw that the attacking host had not retired to camps as they had before. Now they reformed in attack positions, their commanders moving before them, directing replacements into the line. “They can’t mean to attack at night, can they?”
Amos and Armand had approached. “Why not?” said Amos. “The way they’re throwing their men at us, it matters little who can see who. The silly swine-lover doesn’t give spit for who lives and who dies. It’ll be pure butchery, but they may wear us down.”
Armand surveyed the wall. The wounded and dead were being carried down to infirmaries set up within the city. “We’ve lost a total of three hundred twenty soldiers today. We may find the number higher when all the reports are re-checked. That leaves us with a standing force of six thousand two hundred and about twenty five.”
Guy swore. “If Martin and the others reach Stone Mountain in the fastest possible time and get back here as fast, it will not be soon enough. And it seems our friends out there have something planned for tonight.”
Arutha leaned against the stones of the wall. “They don’t seem to be readying for another assault.”
Guy looked back toward the citadel. The sun was now behind the mountains, but the sky was still bright. Banners and torches could both be seen on the plain before the city. “They seem to be . .. waiting.”
Guy said, “Have the companies stand down, but feed them at the forward positions.” He and de Sevigny left without ordering a sharp watch. There was no need.
Arutha remained on the wall with Amos. He felt some strange sense of anticipation, as if the time for him to play his part, whatever that would prove to be, was rapidly approaching. If the ancient prophecy told him by the Ishapians at Sarth was true, he was the Bane of Darkness and it would fall to him to defeat Murmandamus. He rested his chin on his arms, upon the cold stones of the wall. Amos took out a pipe and began filling it with tabac, humming a sea chanty. As they waited, the army beyond was cloaked in darkness.
“Locky, no,” said Bronwynn, pushing the boy away.
Looking confused, the squire said, “But we’re off duty.”
The tired girl said, “I’ve been running messages all day, the same as you. I’m hot and sticky, covered with dirt and smoke, and you want to lie with me.”
Locklear’s voice betrayed a note of hurt. “But . . . last night.”
“Was last night,” said the girl gently. “That was something I wanted, and I thank you for it. But now I’m tired and dirty, and not in the mood.”
Stiffly the boy said, “Thank you! Was . . . that a favour?” His wounded pride showed and his voice was thick with youthful emotion. “I love you, Bronwynn. When this is over you must come with me to Krondor. I’m going to be a rich man someday. We can be married.”
Half-impatiently, half-tenderly, the girl said, “Locky, you speak of things I don’t understand. The pleasures of the bedchamber are . . . not promises. Now I must rest before we are called back to duty. Go. Maybe some other time.”
Feeling stung, the boy backed away, his cheeks burning. “What do you mean, some other time?” Colour rose in his face as he almost shouted. “You think this is some game, don’t you. You think I’m just a boy.” He spoke defiantly.