Redoubt

CHAPTER TWELVE

  The morning was an unexpectedly calm and almost peaceful one. The skies were blue and the sun was pleasantly warming. Some residual mist drifted off the water and over the green grass but soon dissipated. Birds sang in the trees and men could see a herd of deer wander amongst the ruins of the old town on the edge of the forest. Most of the residents of the fort were sleeping, only a few had been left on stag. These sentries had seen little activity for some time. The only sign that there had been any action the night before was a few arrows that could be seen sticking out of the ground on the eastern bank. Any bodies had since been removed. Sergeant Pike had of course gotten up a half an hour earlier, and was already busy chivvying his men along in the preparation of breakfast. A fire was burning merrily and a pot of porridge was on the go.

  “It doesn’t bloody matter if we make a noise now, they know we’re here so we might as well die with full bellies,” he was heard to announce.

  Nothing much happened during that first daylight hour. Forge had actually gotten a good night’s sleep and felt pretty rested. It hadn’t escaped his notice that even the weather had gotten better since they had headed north. He munched contentedly on a sweet roll and slurped on his steaming hot mug of coffee. All in all things seemed remarkably positive. His men were in good spirits and it was a beautiful day. Knowing that not one man had been left behind the night before helped this. Well, that was not strictly true of course. Locke had not been accounted for, presumably he was dead. Forge did feel responsible for the loss, the young officer was one of his men, but the man had proved himself to be nothing but a liability and to be honest, his loss had done nothing to dent the morale of the men. In the final reckoning, the night action had helped in reducing the odds a bit; put the enemy on the back foot. He wondered what the Harradan leaders would be thinking on the other side. I bet they’re pissed off, he thought. Been walking for days, taking a load of casualties from some strays from Noel’s Gap, think they’ve got rid of them, then they stride into a full blown ambush. And to add insult to injury they are betrayed by the people supposed to be working for them! Then of course, the best bit, a restored and fully manned fortification, but no bloody bridge. He figured they might already be thinking about jacking it in now and heading off home. As it was the events of last night must have put their plans into something of a spin. And the longer they debated it the better. It was all time. Every bit was precious. Every minute they did not go south increased the chances of their mission failing.

  In fact, nothing happened for the rest of the morning. Forge had to be honest, he was starting to think that maybe they had decided to sack it all and go home. As there was nothing to do but wait, most of his men were lounging about, sleeping or playing cards. There was only one man on sentry duty now, currently Corporal Jonas. He was stuck up in the “crows nest” as the boys had taken to calling the small construct on top of the third storey. There was little need to present easy targets for the Shifter archers who must by now have themselves positioned in the woods on the eastern bank. In fact, the only men now on the ramparts were the five archers who had laid themselves out on the wooden walkway. Below in the courtyard most were underneath the walkways so as to be covered from any incoming fire. Engaged in the never ending business of feeding a hungry force, only Sergeant Pike and some of his men moved about in the open.

  It wasn’t until after lunch that things started to happen. It was Private Smitty who first noticed it. Trees were swaying in the forest to the east. Swaying then disappearing. So that was their game. They were preparing something. Forge had climbed up to the third storey and stood, his hands resting on the ramparts, gazing to the east. Sergeant Mac stood with him.

  “What do you see Smitty?”

  “Fair bit of movement, boss. Reckon there’s a whole bunch being cut down.”

  Forge looked at Sergeant Mac. “What do you think? Rafts?”

  Sergeant Mac hawked and spat. “Could be making a bridge.”

  “Have to be a bloody big one.”

  “Not really. We still got those supporting posts in. They don’t need anything permanent.”

  Forge slapped his hand down on the stone embrasure.

  “Damn.” He stalked off, turned round and came back to the wall. “This plan has got more holes than a pin cushion. They can come at us from the south, they can come at us from straight across the river. Hell if they wanted to they could put those rafts in further up north and float down.”

  “We got both those flanks covered boss,” pointed out Sergeant Mac

  “But not with many. Not enough. The only thing we got going for us is that they don’t know how many we are. If they did try the raft idea from the north in any numbers they could get people across.”

  “But they don’t know that. And if they do try, at least get people to hurl a few discouraging suggestions their way.”

  Forge nodded at this but made no reply.

  “And at the end of the day we have done as much as we can do,” Sergeant Mac continued doggedly. “If nothing else we’ve already bought a day, and it didn’t cost us ‘cept some ball-breaking construction work, which I might add was your idea.”

  Forge smiled. “Sorry for being a slave driver then. But I didn’t see you getting your hands dirty.”

  Sergeant Mac sniffed, “Twenty odd years in the army. Man and boy. First Sergeant. My value is in my supervisory position. Years of experience.”

  “Of telling other people what to do,” laughed Forge. “Just like me.”

  Sergeant Mac grinned back. “Lazy sons of bitches these days aren’t we?”

  “Well, we bloody deserve it!”

  “See, just like I said.”

  Forge laughed and clapped him on the back.

  A mile to the south the Bantusai waited close to the river’s edge. They had concealed themselves well and had watchers out over a span of a quarter of a mile. On his signal, the line would fold in on itself and his men would converge on the crossing point wherever it may be. Juma had judged this to be the nearest and easiest stretch of water in relation to the fort and therefore expected that any attempt to cross would be here. From what he could hear from the other side his expectations were proving correct. Kely moved up silently to join him.

  “It seems that they are trying to build rafts, Kai.”

  “Yes, Kely. And by the way they chop at the trees they are attempting some form of stealth.”

  Kely snorted. “So only the birds and beasts within five miles will be startled by their racket.”

  Juma smiled. “Indeed, yet their leader is cautious. I believe he will send men across through the water to check this side. If so, we will allow them to cross before we strike. Make them feel they are safe.”

  “As you say.”

  There was a pregnant pause. Juma glanced over at the big Bantusai and smiled

  “You are thinking again, Kely. I can always tell. You have a look of pain in your face.”

  Kely gave his characteristic shrug. “It is just a strange place we find ourselves in. The forest is a strange one yet has its own life, its own bounty. And then I think of home.”

  “Ah yes, I know my friend,” responded Juma. “You wonder what, in the name of our fathers, has caused us to be here, now, in such a place.”

  “Yes Kai. How did we come to be fighting alongside our captors. Men we were to kill, but instead we wait to kill those who were to be our allies and who we have seen but once in darkness. Men we do not know or understand.”

  “Kely, I am your Kai. Yet I can give you no easy answer. We must do what we think is right, always try to be men of honour. That is what makes us who we are. Bantusai. Feared and respected. Forge is a good man, his men are rough souls but they have nobility about them. We are lucky my friend, to be able to choose the manner in which we leave this world. Perhaps for what we do now, for this white skinned man, we will be repaid. Perhaps in the shedding of our bl
ood, some of us may get home, and those that do will tell our people of how we died.” He reached out and clasped Kely’s shoulder. “And they will be proud.”

  Kely nodded, grinned and slapped his Kai on the back. He turned o look at the far bank and was silent for a moment. “Kai,” he said softly and indicated the river with a flick of his head. “Men now enter the water.”

  Juma followed Kely’s gaze across the Rooke to the far side some twenty yards away. All along the far bank, Harradan, perhaps a score, shorn of armour and bare-chested were entering the water. Some of them carried thin ropes, whilst others wore weapons strapped to their backs. Juma quickly motioned to his men to pull back into the trees. The signal was sent down the line of watchers and they quickly faded. Cautiously the Harradan swam across the river, the current causing them to reach the far bank some distance further to the south of their entry point. They quickly scrambled out of the water and those that were armed drew their weapons and gazed into the treeline. Seeing nothing they signalled back across the river. Those bearing the thin ropes took up the slack and pulled. The ends of the ropes were tied to thicker, heavier lengths that were dragged through the river and then tied off around nearby sturdy looking trees. There were shortly five of the ropes in place. A further five were pulled across but not attached. On the far side, activity increased as more Harradan manhandled crudely made rafts through the trees and then into the water. Men scrambled aboard and quickly grabbed hold of the ropes to steady the craft, others joined them carrying the arms and armour of those who had already crossed. The five ropes that had not been tied off were now tied to the raft themselves so that those on the far bank could haul them across. Once fully laden, each raft holding about ten men, the Harradan holding onto the ropes shouted to their fellows. Men on the west bank began to pull whilst those on the rafts steadied the crossing by moving hand over hand along the thicker guide ropes.

  The Bantusai struck when the rafts had reached the midway point. Twenty arrows flew out of the undergrowth and peppered the armed but not armoured Harradan. The Bantusai followed this up by a bellowing charge into the men manhandling the ropes. Within moments the Harradan clansmen on the west bank were all down. There was uproar from the far bank and something resembling panic as those on the rafts tried to pull themselves across unaided knowing full well how exposed they were. A few arrows flew from the eastern side but did little to bother Juma and his men. As they began to shoot at those on the rafts, others got to work at cutting the ropes. The cries and shouts grew even louder as men were hit and pitched into the water, whilst those remaining put up their shields to cover the men pulling on the guide ropes. None of the rafts made it to the far side as one by one the ropes were swiftly cut and the wooden platforms started to drift unhindered down the river. The Harradan started to pull back towards the east bank whilst continuing to take harrying fire from the Bantusai. As its riders took hits, one of the rafts lost its lifeline and began to move downriver, its surviving Harradan jumping into the water in panic.

  Juma laughed at the chaos before him, the northmen would certainly think twice before attempting a crossing like that again. The other rafts were now emptying as the Harradan gave up on the ropes and leapt for the bank. Many began to flounder as their weapons and equipment pulled them under. Kely joined Juma “Kai, another force is crossing to the south.”

  Juma whipped his head around in alarm “What?”

  “In similar numbers to these. Our farthest man caught a glimpse of movement and stayed to check.”

  “Then his wisdom has saved us. Have they gained this side?”

  “No doubt they will be fixing their ropes now. Perhaps they have heard their friends and move quickly,” said Kely.

  “It is too late to go and close with them. They will be warned of our presence. Quickly! Tell the men to pull back. Perhaps we cannot fight them, but we can surely sting them if only for a few minutes. We will hit and run. Go!”

  Kely nodded and moved to gather the others. Juma bit his lip and swore. These northmen were not all as stupid as they looked. He turned and watched the Harradan scramble out of the water, helped by their fellows. Then he followed his men back into the woods.

  A short time later the attack over the bridge began. The first wind of it came from a small, silent shower of arrows appearing from the undergrowth of the eastern bank. The lookout had no time to shout a warning. No less than ten well- aimed flights peppered his post. The first arrow took him in the chest, a second found its way to his throat. He lay slumped in the watchtower, his life-blood flowing down the wooden struts. Nobody noticed immediately as the second wave, much larger than the first, fell upon the courtyard. It was fortunate that most of the men were positioned either low upon the eastern parapet or sheltering below it. The only hit scored was on a bucket of water that Sergeant Pike had been humping across the open space. It embedded itself firmly in the bucket with a ‘thunk’. He looked at it in surprise. “Fuck!” he cried as he dumped the bucket and legged it towards the shelter of the walkway. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

  At the time Forge had been in the bottom floor of the tower. He ran up to the third level and keeping low moved to get a view of the river. Sergeant Mac and two others were already there, crouched behind the wooden wall portion of the tower. Most of the arrows appeared to be heading for the main courtyard however. Down below he heard Sergeant Grippa telling everyone to hold their positions. The archers on the eastern wall had already been briefed not to return fire. There really wasn’t much point.

  Forge crouched next to his sergeant and looked out onto the fire bank. He could see figures over there but they kept themselves away from the edge of the water, firing out from gaps in the trees. Sergeant Mac tilted his head and indicated the dead lookout.

  “Corporal Lens.”

  “Shit.”

  “No chance of us hitting ‘em from here, boss. Our boys below have only got short bows, no penetration.”

  “Get Jonas up there, let’s see if he can’t use that bloody longbow of his.”

  Sergeant Mac nodded and motioned to one of the others to go and fetch him.

  The arrows continued to fall for another minute or so and then stopped. Moments later Corporal Jonas emerged, humping his bow and two sheaves of arrows in his pack, his entire supply. He kept low as he moved to the tower. Behind him came the other soldier who now bore a shield on his back; better protection against an arrow as he worked. Jonas gave his kit to the soldier and quickly climbed the ladder to the Crows Nest. Working his way into the small platform he got his hands around the legs of Corporal Lens and heaved him out. The body gave a dull thump as it hit the wooden floor of the tower.

  “Over the side boys,” said Sergeant Mac. Whilst they always tried to bury their dead with dignity, it wouldn’t help now to have a cadaver just lying around stinking the place up. The men of the company were nothing if not pragmatic. The two soldiers pulled him over to the northern side where the tower joined with the outer wall. The took off his weapons and then got a hold of either end and with a quick count of three stood up and hauled the body onto the stone parapet and then rolled him off, non too gracefully, to fall onto the ground below. They quickly dropped down and scuttled back to the crouched sergeant and captain just as Corporal Jonas cried out “Incoming.” Another flight of arrows clattered on the floor, thumped on the parapet or mainly just overflew the tower. It was a purely opportunist shoot. A couple did strike the Crows Nest but Corporal Jonas had already ducked.

  “Fuckers!” Was his only slightly muffled response from behind his wooden railings.

  The next second he raised his head, squinted and then stood up. As he did so he pulled back on his bow and loosed an arrow. Forge barely saw its flight. Such was the strength needed to pull back on a longbow that the arrow flew with incredible power. The shafts could easily pierce armour at a fair distance. He saw it enter the trees but nothing else happened. He quickly du
cked back into cover again. “Get him?”

  “Got him.”

  “Good.”

  A further ten minutes later Corporal Jonas called down to Forge.

  “Better look at this.”

  Forge looked up from the knife he had been sharpening, taken from the dead and dumped soldier. You didn’t worry about the provenance of weapons in his job. He turned and raised his head over the side. Above the trees he could see streamers of smoke. Following their course down he could make out a number of dots of firelight. The afternoon was well advanced now and the eastern forest was beginning to darken. He guessed that it must be darker in there than he thought.

  “Can you hit any with those markers?” he asked his scout.

  “Reckon.” Corporal Jonas stood up, fired and then ducked again. There was no answering volley. “Guess they are waiting for me to poke up again.”

  Forge glanced out again. There seemed to be more dots of fire now, many more. The next thing he saw were little balls of flame take to the air and stream towards the fort.

  “Shit.” He ducked, expecting to see the arrows thump around him. Bloody fire arrows. They were trying to set light to the fort then? That was hardly going to work. They had deliberately soaked all the new wooden additions to the fort the day before. He glanced up again and saw that none of the arrows had actually entered the fort. They had fallen in and around the fire trench!

  “Those fuckers,” he announced to the world in general. “Corporal Jonas?”

  “Sir?”

  “Fucking shoot the bastards.”

  “Right.”

  Forge then made a break for the stairs and leapt down them. Taking advantage of their divided attention, Jonas loosed another arrow into the trees. In response, several of the hidden archers switched fire and again struck the Crows Nest. Many hit and held in the wooden posts and two landed on top. They were still burning. Jonas ducked down and shouted to the soldiers beneath him.

  “Better get a bucket!”

  Forge burst out of the eastern rampart door and ran bent double towards the south facing wall. He joined Sergeant Mac who was leaning casually against the rampart.

  “Those bastards are trying to set light to our bloody trench,” Forge declared breathlessly.

  “That’s cheatin’,” agreed Sergeant Mac sarcastically.

  “Is it catching?”

  “It will soon, they got a lot of rounds there and some are right on top of the kindling wood.”

  “It will be faster than that, Sergeant,” said Portal, who had come to join them. “See?” he gestured with his hand to one end of the trench. “Already it takes hold. Remember I spent much of yesterday ensuring it would.” If anything, Forge thought, he looked even worse than last night. The man looked to have visibly aged.

  As they watched a series of sparks ignited along the trench and a gentle ‘woomph’ accompanied the eruption of flames all along the length of the earthwork.

  “Bugger,” muttered Sergeant Mac.

  “Another good job, Portal,” observed Forge.

  “A pity.” The wizard conceded.

  “What they trying to do? Smoke us out with our own fire?” asked Sergeant Pike who was looking through a gap in the gate.

  “Seems to me, that maybe they are trying to keep us in.” observed Sergeant Mac.

  Forge thought about it for a moment and nodded.

  “If that’s so, and I think you’re right, then they are giving themselves some cover. They’re planning on coming across soon.”

  “There it goes,” said Sergeant Mac pointing to where one of the kindling piles was blazing merrily. It gave out a great deal of smoke as it did so. That was deliberate. Forge had gotten his men to collect pine branches and other such smoke-giving flora. It was a more effective shield as long as the wind was right. However, the intention had been to fire it only once the enemy had crossed the river and was about to attack.

  “Perfect cover from view,” he muttered. “They aren’t as stupid as they look. Kind of hoping they would have been. How do you reckon they hit on doing that?”

  “Perhaps they had prior knowledge?” suggested Portal. “We know they have a magic-user. In fact I have spent much the night trying to contact them.

  Forge looked over in surprise. “Really, you can do that?”

  Portal shrugged. “Unfortunately I am not adept at true communication. But I can at least reach out with my feelings, get a sense of the potential of the person.”

  “And what did your feelings tell you about this bloke?” asked Sergeant Mac.

  Portal shook his head. “Not a man, sergeant. A woman, you can tell the difference in the way the magic is used and accessed by someone. I would expect she is some kind of witch woman. A seer, a weaver of dreams and curses. They are quite common amongst the Harradan.”

  “And how powerful is she?” asked Forge.

  “I could not be sure, she keeps herself hidden, and her thoughts are well shielded. But I would say that she is at least the equal of me. I doubt that I could counter her or stop her watching us from afar. I can shield my thoughts but not those around me,” replied Portal.

  Forge chewed his lip. “Odd that, I don’t think Holis Lode and his people would have been able to stay ahead of the Harradan if there had been magic used against them.”

  “Is it worth trying to put the fire out?” asked Sergeant Mac.

  “Nah, let it go,” replied Forge.

  As they watched, the fire quickly started to spread. They barely noticed that the bow fire had slowly dwindled off. Corporal Jonas had. He had been watching, looking for another chance to shoot. For some reason, those that had been on the northern most point of the line had quit firing before the others. This had spread down the line as more of the firing dwindled. He didn’t think they had run out of arrows so soon. He did see a fair bit of movement in the trees but it was quick and he couldn’t draw a bead on it. It seemed as if they were pulling back. But they were heading northward, some of them at any rate. He didn’t know why and shrugged his shoulders. Maybe they’d pissed off a bear or something. At least it had stopped them for a bit. He then turned to watch how the fire trench was progressing. There were now several spots where the fire had taken. He figured in about ten minutes the whole length of it should be burning merrily. He then moved his gaze to the far side of the bridge crossing. He couldn’t quite make out what it was he was seeing. Several lines of trees seemed to be marching along the trail. He squinted and leaned further, ignoring the possible threat of arrows. As he did so the trees burst out onto the crossing area. But they were not trees. They were mantlets, about seven foot in height. They were quickly put into position, one next to another in sequence. A perfect screen for the Harradan. He had to give someone over there some credit, the Shifter commander perhaps? Even at his angle he could only hope to drop arrows behind them with no hope of aiming and little more of hitting anything. He shouted down but needn’t have bothered. Through the gathering smoke the rest of the watchers had spotted the mobile shields too. The Harradan could now get right up to bridge without fear of violence from the fort. The fire trench would then help to further obscure the view.

  Forge watched helplessly. There was nothing he and his men could do to disrupt the crossing. They had cleverly used his own defences against him. Granted the trench should buy them some more time, but not much. Another shout drew him back from his private musings. He looked up at the tower and saw his men pointing south. Such was the hour and the smoke that it took him a few moments to be able to focus on what they were pointing at. Then he saw it. A group of dark figures had emerged from the south and were running full tilt across the clearing. The Bantusai. Shit, he had clean forgotten about them. They would have to get a move on to clear the trench. He turned to give the order to unseal the gate hatch. He didn’t get a chance. Another cry went up and he turned to look at the bridge site again. His men were crying out from
the tower. “They’re coming!”

  He felt his heart sink.

  Across the river, the Harradan were making their assault on the crossing. With the protection of the mantlets, gangs of men were bringing forward crude ramps, nothing more than logs tied together. They were easily wide enough to touch onto the vertical struts lying in the water. Gathered just at the edge of the trail a whole mass of men waited to cross. The Bantusai were going to run straight into them as they crossed. They would be cut off. Sense suggested to Forge he should stay within the protection of the walls, but bugger that. He had made a promise and in so doing they had become his men. He was damned if he was going to give up on them.

  He crouched down and half lowered half leapt to the floor. Shouting as he went.

  “Sergeant Grippa, your squad with me now. Sergeant Mac, fire support when we need it. Unblock that damn door!”

  Already men were working loose the sealed gate hatch. Sergeant Grippa and a flying squad of ten men formed up behind him. As soon as it was free Forge was through and leading his men across the open space between the fort and the fire trench. He picked a spot that seemed slightly less fierce than the rest of the burning defence. Thanks to the bund he cleared the trench and continued onwards towards the bridge. The Harradan had quickly lain the ramps over two thirds of the span. He could see men go down as Corporal Jonas picked them off with his longbow. But numbers and momentum meant that the last ramp to this side was coming down no matter what.

  Sergeant Mac and Portal watched as Forge led his men toward the river. The sergeant turned his nose towards the fire trench. It was now well and truly ablaze. And the flames were damn high.

  “Yes, stronger than a normal fire and longer lasting,” observed Portal.

  “Going to be a nightmare to get back across then.”

  Sergeant Mac spat then glanced left. “Sergeant Pike!”

  “Yes?” responded Pike from further down the rampart.

  “Better get some buckets of water and find something we can lay across that bloody fire. We need to make a path for the boys to get back in.”

  “Right.”

  “It’ll take more than that to put those flames out Sergeant,” Portal stated loudly as he gazed at the flames.

  Sergeant Mac gave Portal a hard look. “Magic?”

  “Indeed.”

  “Damn me but you’re better than I gave you credit for. So can you deal with it?”

  “If I try to extinguish it completely then there will be no relighting it. Besides, I might not be permitted to. Their witch might decide to take a hand.”

  “Looks like we don’t have much of a choice then.”

  Portal remained silent for a few moments.

  “I am not sure if I can….”

  Ahead of Forge the Bantusai were fifty yards away. The final ramp was laid and the first northerners commenced their crossing. Screaming a battle cry he charged at the Harradan. His men took up the cry and smashed into the leading ranks of warriors. They met where the ramp hit the pier. The speed and fury of the Ashkent attack took the Harradan by surprise. They stalled and were pushed back a few feet. Such was the width of the ramp that fighting was restricted. Indeed many Harradan found themselves being pushed over the side in the crush. Forge who had slammed his sword like a spear into the gut of a bare-chested warrior, had little time to withdraw it before the press of bodies turned the fight into a scrum. Neither side could swing a weapon and it turned into a pushing and shoving match. Forge changed tactics and head-butted the nearest enemy whilst around him fists flailed. Slowly and inexorably the press of men against his small group told and they were forced back off the pier. As that happened it freed up movement and Forge found himself able to use his weapons again. He hacked at the neck of an assailant burying the blade deep. A fountain of blood erupted as he tore it away. Turning half left he smashed the nose of another with the hilt of his sword. He was dimly aware that the Harradan were gaining a foothold and his men were swamped.

  Suddenly he heard a screaming cry of voices and the Bantusai swept into the Harradan flank. All about him their ranks thinned as the spear wielding tribesmen took them down. He could hardly credit it but they had taken the fight away from him and his men who stood about him taking a moment’s respite. All he could see was a blur of bodies as the Bantusai used their weapons with skill, striking with a swiftness that made him dizzy. Another Harradan got past them and charged at Forge who raised his weapon. Juma appeared by the man, tripped him with the blunt end of his spear and then forced it into his exposed back. He looked up and smiled. “Are you well, Captain?”

  Forge wiped some sweat from his brow and grinned. “Just getting warmed up.”

  “Sir!” cried one of his men.

  Forge and Juma turned to see another force of Harradan emerging from the trees where the Bantusai had exited the forest from.

  “More guests.” Observed Juma.

  “We need to pull back.”

  Juma nodded and gripped Forge’s shoulder. He fixed him with a hard stare.

  “You remember your promise?”

  “I do.”

  “So do I.” He smiled at Forge clapped him on the back and laughed. He then shouted a string of commands to his men and pressed forward. “Go, Captain. Go.”

  Forge quickly ordered his men to pull back expecting Juma to follow. Instead the Bantusai increased their attack driving the northmen further back across the bridge. At the front of his men was Juma, flanked by two other Bantusai. They had now pushed the enemy back and beyond their final ramp. Forge watched as the tribesmen fell back leaving Juma and his two companions to continue the fight.

  “What the hell are you doing?” he shouted.

  Before he could act he watched in dismay as two Bantusai lifted the ramp and cast it into the Rooke. They then turned and ran for the fort. Forge stood and watched Juma fight his way along the bridge. It was an extreme act of bravery. Worthy of a noble bloody fool. He turned at the shout of his name. He looked to his right and saw that the Harradan from the trees were almost upon him. He turned and ran. As he made for the fire trench he saw that it was now completely ablaze and his men were gathered on the wrong side of it. Suddenly the flames began to part and a small channel formed. The soldiers began to stream through it and then quickly the last of the Bantusai were through. As he angled towards the gap he could see Portal, his arms outstretched holding the flames apart. Even at this distance he could hear shouts of pain from the wizard as the man struggled to maintain the space. Behind he could hear and sense the pursuit gaining on him. Arrows began to flash past his head and he heard grunts and cries of pain as his people gave him cover from the fort. On the far side through the smoke he saw that they were shooting from the parapet that caused him some concern as the smoke was obscuring his view all to well. He hoped it was easier for them to see him.

  Twenty yards from the trench he passed across a depression in the ground. His foot landed heavily at an angle and he felt his knee give way. He fell and cried out in pain and anger. He quickly stood up and tried to run again but his leg collapsed a second time. He swore in anger. He wasn’t going out like this; getting stabbed in the back like a wounded animal. With a shout he pushed himself up, transferred his weight on to his right leg and spun round to face his pursuers. One Harradan was only yards away and as he drew near Forge swept his sword round and down in an arc that cut into the warrior’s leg. It unbalanced Forge and he fell onto his right side. He got himself up onto his knee and skewered the fallen man in the chest. As he did so he looked and saw another charging at him with axe raised. An arrow thudded into the man’s chest and he was thrown backwards still holding the axe. Large black arms were suddenly around him and he was hauled to his feet. He saw that his helper was Kely. The big man got an arm around him and together they stumbled towards the fire trench. Around them arrows began to fall as the Shifter archers came back into the fight after their brief
hiatus. The gap in the fire was now thinning dramatically. Portal was screaming in agony as the mental and physical drain of his magic tore him apart. Kely literally threw Forge across the trench and followed after. More of his men were on the other side with shields raised to ward off the arrows from across the water. These were more random in flight as the smoke from the fire now obscured the vision of the Shifter men. Except where Portal stood. As Kely rolled onto the ground in front of the gap two arrows punched into the wizard and he flew backwards. The two walls of flame slammed into each other. Ignoring the arrows, Forge crawled over to Portal. The man was breathing in shallow, ragged gasps. Blood was spreading out from the two wounds. Portal, skin deathly pale, turned his gaze to the soldier. He smiled, his teeth stained with blood.

  “Best damn magic I’ve ever done...”

  His eyes rolled back and his breathing stopped. Forge gently closed the man’s eyelids. He looked into the flames and then turned to stare back at the fort.

  “Okay, let’s go. Push him into the fire. “

  Kely and a soldier, flanked by shield bearers, quickly pushed Portal’s corpse into the flames. Kely helped him up and they headed for the gateway while his men followed up behind. None of the Harradan attempted to cross the trench to follow them. Forge stumbled through the hatchway and was laid gently to the ground up against the wall of the fort. As the last soldier came through, the gate hatch was put back in place and a bar and buttresses put across it. He looked about him and saw the remaining Bantusai and a few of his own men, looking tired and grimy up against the eastern wall. Many had the blood of dead foes upon them. Several bore their own wounds, it looked worse for the Bantusai as they wore no armour to hide the cuts and bruises received in battle. Kely dropped his big frame next to his.

  “Thanks,” said Forge.

  Kely did not respond. He sat facing into the courtyard, his chest was heaving and covered in beads of sweat. His head was tilted forward and his eyes were closed.

  “ Juma...” Forge was about to ask.

  “He fell. That is all,” said Kely. He turned and regarded Forge with a blank expression.

  Forge knew well enough that at times like this there was nothing else to say. He turned his head and looked up at the smoke filled sky.