“I’d bet on it. That witch-king or his snake priest is behind this.”
Arutha said, “He’s too far for even Martin’s bow, and I’ll wager none of your archers can reach him. Nor can your catapults.”
“The bastard’s just out of range.”
Amos came along the wall to say, “Things seem to be under control, but they keep popping up everywhere. I’ve a report of three in the citadel, and one appeared in the moat and sank like a stone, now . . . What are you looking at?”
Arutha indicated the hill and Amos watched for a while. “Our catapults can’t reach it. Damn.” Then the old seaman’s face split in a grin. “I’ve an idea.”
Guy waved toward the bailey, where an astonished looking troll had suddenly appeared, to be overwhelmed by three soldiers. But while he died, another came into existence and dashed away down a street. “Anything. Sooner or later, they’re going to gather into a large enough company to cause serious trouble.”
Amos hurried away, toward a catapult platform. He issued instructions and soon a cauldron was heating. He oversaw the preparations and returned. Leaning upon the wall, he said, “Anytime now.”
“What?” said Guy.
“The wind will change. Always does this time of night.” Arutha shook his head. He was tired and suddenly was visited with a funny image. “Are we going to sail closer, Captain?”
Abruptly a troll was upon the rampart, blinking in confusion. Guy struck it with the back of his fist, knocking it to the cobbles far below. It landed with a thump of finality, it seems they have a moment or two of disorientation, which is a damn good thing,” said the Protector. “Otherwise that one might have had your leg for lunch, Amos.”
Amos stuck a finger in his mouth, then raised it. With a satisfied ‘Ah’ he shouted, “Catapult! Fire!”
The mighty war engine uncoiled, throwing its missile with such force as to make it leap upon the wall. Into the dark the missile silently sped.
For a long moment no effect was visible, then shrieks filled the night from the distance. Amos let out a satisfied howl of glee. Arutha watched for a moment and saw no more flashes of light. “Amos, what did you do?” asked Guy.
“Well, One-eye, it’s a trick I learned from your old friends the Keshians. I was in Durbin when a tribe of desertmen had an uprising and decided to take the city. The governor-general, that old fox Hazara-Khan, found the walls being swept with bow fire, so he ordered up hot sand and threw it at them.”
“Hot sand?” said Arutha. “Yes, you just heat it until it glows red and toss it at them. The wind carries it a fair piece, and if it hasn’t cooled too much when it hits - it burns like unholy blazes. Gets in your armour, under your tunic, in your boots, your hair, everywhere. If Murmandamus was looking this way, we might have blinded the impotent son of a poxy rat. Anyway, it’ll take his mind off spells for an hour or two.”
Arutha laughed. “I think only for a time, however.” Amos took a pipe from his tunic and a taper which he lit from a torch. “Yes, there’s that.” His tone turned serious. “There is that.”
The three looked out again into the dark, seeking some sign of what would be next.
FOURTEEN - Destruction
The wind blew dust across the wall.
Arutha squinted as he watched riders move along the lines of the assembled host, heading for Murmandamus’s banner. The attacks had continued unabated for three days before ceasing. Some sort of war council was being held in Murmandamus’s camp, or so it seemed to Arutha.
For an hour the conference had been taking place. Arutha considered the situation. The last assaults had been intense, as much as any before. But they had lacked the disquieting element of the sudden appearance by those warriors transported by magic inside the walls. The lack of magic assaults had Arutha puzzled. He speculated there was some compelling reason for Murmandamus not to use his arts again, or some limit on what he was able to do for any length of time. Still, Arutha suspected something was about to break for Murmandamus to be calling all his chieftains together.
Amos wandered along the wall, inspecting the soldiers on duty. It was late in the day, and already men were relaxing, for it was apparent there would be little chance of attack before morning. The enemy’s camp was not standing ready, and it would take hours for them to muster. Amos reached Arutha’s side and said, “So, then, if this was your command, what would you be doing?”