“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, then the pounding of horses’ hooves preceded a hundred men charging in file toward 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.
BATTLE
Tal aimed.
The first rider within range flew backward 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 center 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 disoriented. 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 found himself in the middle of a milling band of more than a hundred men, all attempting to hold on to 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, 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.
Tal dodged under the necks of horses, killing any man he came within a sword’s length of. Six men were on the ground dead or dying before the raiders realized that an enemy was in their midst. Just as men started shouting orders, John Creed unleashed his attack.
Creed’s men raced out from behind the building where they had been hiding, and a moment later Jasquenel and his warriors attacked from the other side. The raiders still had superior numbers, but they were in turmoil, while Tal’s forces had both a purpose and a goal.