Redoubt

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  An hour later and the fire trench, enhanced as it was with Portal’s magic, was burning fiercely with no apparent sign of dying out. The light from it illuminated the entire area around the fort keeping the night time darkness at bay. Both sides had retreated beyond bow range and settled down to watch the trench burn itself out. Forge guessed that wouldn’t be for a while yet, Portal had really gone to town on it. From his position at the top of the tower, Forge could see pretty much all of the clearing and onto the far bank with ease. It had taken him a painful five minutes to mount the steps of the tower. He could now move under his own stream again but his leg was stiffening up. There would be no more running for him for a while. Down below Sergeant Pike had started dinner and men were greedily tucking into their meal. The Quartermaster wasn’t too bothered about rationing at this stage and let the men have their fill.

  Looking back, Forge watched the Harradan moving in the semi-darkness. They had been steadily consolidating their positions on the western bank. Further mantled screens had been erected in a straight line across from the bridge and extended out by fifty yards. It was probable that they realised the Ashkent force had only a few bowmen and could trouble them little. Behind the safety of the screen the main force had moved across the ramps and had now set up a camp down by the southern edges of the cleared zone. They hadn’t trusted the wagons to get across and had been humping all the supplies over the river. They were now leading the mules across one by one. They would probably be used as pack animals now. The Harradan had lit campfires and their light added to the bright glow in the night sky. A camp of two thousand men was no small thing and they sprawled out all along its southern edge and crept around its western fringes too, taking care not to drift too near inwards and in range of Corporal Jonas and his bow. Not that their own fires were more than a marker for Jonas, but to shoot was a waste of arrows. Still there might be a shade less than two thousand men now. There had been a fair few bodies left on the western bank and by all accounts the crossing further south had lost them a few more. Kely, in his halting tongue, had related the tale of the river crossing. Sounded like the Bantusai had caused havoc. Good for them. Forge was surprised at how stoically they took their prince’s death. He guessed it was just a cultural thing. On offering his condolences Kely had shrugged his shoulders. “He lived, he died well. A…man of luck?” Forge nodded and Kely continued. “Yes, a man of luck to have died well.”

  Kely left him bearing a wry smile and joined his people resting under the walkways. They were certainly enjoying Sergeant Pikes’ stew. Must have worked up a mighty hunger for that to happen.

  Forge paused then to consider his own losses. Sergeant Mac had come up earlier to give him the news. Three men had been lost in his charge down to the bridge. That included Sergeant Grippa. The Bantusai had lost two men to arrows further south; it appeared that Shifter archers had supported the second crossing. They had lost another four in the fight at the bridge; one taken by an arrow on the retreat and the three who had held the Harradan off to allow the others to escape. He had liked Juma. Silly bugger. If he included young Locke, he had now lost ten of his command all told. Not good considering his plan had been devised to minimise loses. It would make holding the walls against a determined attack that much harder.

  Sergeant Mac joined him, surveyed the scene for a moment and then spat.

  “Funny old thing about Portal.”

  “Just goes to show I guess,” responded Forge.

  “Yeah, you know I think he might even have started to like us. Given time.”

  “The man saved my life. Either he was actually reforming or just bloody stupid. Really could have done with him staying alive,” sighed Forge

  “Kely is here, boss,” said Sergeant Mac.

  Forged turned round to see Kely. He was stood erect, holding his spear in one hand and his bow and a clutch of arrows in the other.

  “You the Kai now?” Forge asked him.

  “No, not Kai. But I…leader?”

  “Okay. Well, here it is. I promised your Kai that I would make sure you’d get home. I can’t do that. Chances are none of us are getting out of this. But whilst it’s dark you and your people could still get out.” Kely listened impassively and just to make sure, Forge gestured to show what he meant; though he felt like a twat for doing it. “Go over the north wall, pick a spot where the flames are low, and make a run for it. They might have watchers but I doubt they could stop all of you. I don’t think they would waste their time trying to chase you.”

  Kely failed to respond. Captain Forge looked at Sergeant Mac. Sergeant Mac looked at Captain Forge.

  “Do you understand? You can go.”

  Kely looked at him.

  “We stay.”

  He turned and walked down the steps. He spoke again as his head disappeared.

  “We like Sergeant Pike’s cooking. Very nice.”

  Captain Forge looked at Sergeant Mac. Sergeant Mac looked at Captain Forge, who sighed tiredly.

  “How’s the leg?” asked Sergeant Mac.

  “Hurts like a bastard.”

  “Usual then.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Good, good,” said Sergeant Mac in an absent tone and wandered off.

  Forge was glad he had Sergeant Mac around.

  Later that night Privates Smitty and Thom shared a pipe as they stood the watch on the north wall. Sat the watch was nearer to the truth. One or the other would occasionally look over the ramparts to see how the fire was going and then settle back down. They sat quite contentedly puffing away when a fist sized stone landed on Smitty’s lap.

  “Fuck!” he spluttered. He rolled it off his legs like it might jump up and bite him. “Fuck!” he added for extra emphasis.

  “It’s alright mate,” said Thom laughing. “I don’t think they need to start hurling wee beasties at us yet.” He reached over and picked up the projectile. That was when he noticed that the stone was covered in a piece of cloth that might have been mistaken for white in another life. He unwrapped the cloth and squinted at it. Written on the piece of material was one word. “ROPE”. They exchanged a look. Private Thom crawled forward and leaned over the walkway.

  “Sarge!”

  Ten minutes later a rope was lowered over the side between two embrasures. Thom and Smitty peered out to either side of the gap whilst the half dozen archers lay behind the wall with their bows drawn. Down in the courtyard Sergeant Mac and Captain Forge waited. Five minutes after that, in the corner of the fire trench where the northern line met the eastern line right by the edge of the water a figure scrambled across the flames and crawled up to the foot of the wall. It grabbed the proffered rope and was hauled up. The man fell onto the floor of the rampart. Holis Lode looked up and grinned at Forge.

  “Fancy seeing you here,” he said brightly.

  “You just can’t leave us alone can you?” smiled Forge.

  “I’m like a bad smell,” replied Lode propping himself up against the wall.

  “What can we do for you?” asked Forge.

  “Thought you’d might like to go on a little raiding party.”

  “Always open to ideas. Come down and get a coffee.”

  “A beer would be good.”

  “We could do that too.”

  The two men and Sergeant Mac climbed down to the courtyard and Lode availed himself of the ale supply. He drank deep, wiped his mouth and then helped himself to some more.

  “So what did you have in mind?” asked Forge as he sipped coffee.

  “Well, as you can imagine they have got watchers in the woods to the north.”

  “Indeed.”

  “They change shifts about every two hours. So that means you got an hour give or take to go for a swim.”

  “Go on.”

  “The lads are back in the trees.” Lode looked back towards the north wall. “We lost Arald a while back.”

  “S
orry to hear that,” said Forge.

  Lode nodded and took a swig of ale.

  “Silly sod was getting too old anyways. As I was sayin’ the boys are back in the trees. We took care of the sentries. Only four of ‘em. Archers actually. Which was handy.”

  “Less to worry about,” agreed Sergeant Mac.

  “Yeah, what with the ones we sorted out earlier that is about half of ‘em dead.”

  “Good work,” said Sergeant Mac in approval.

  “And we got those dead guys’ bows and arrows. We’ll bring ‘em over in a bit. Now, about that plan. Best as we can figure, they got nobody on sentry all the way over to the encampment proper. You could walk right up to ‘em through the trees.”

  “So you’re thinking we might cause some trouble?” said Forge, a plan already forming in his mind.

  Lode grinned again.

  Shortly after, the plan, ad hoc to be sure, was put into action. Lode and Corporal Jonas slipped back over the wall and disappeared into the night. A few moments later a mixed force of Ashkent and Bantusai, some twenty in number, went over the wall one at a time. Leading them was Kely. They had been picked for their speed rather than fighting prowess and the Ashkent men had shed all their armour. Only weapons were carried. Forge watched them go. A part of him wished to be going with them. It didn’t feel right. But the older and far more sensible part of him pointed out that in his present condition and advancing years, he should stop being so stupid. The force were now making their way around the perimeter of the forest and would make their move in twenty minutes time. He just had to sit back and wait to see how things panned out. So he settled back against the wall and threw bits of stone at an imaginary target. Ten seconds later he got up and started pacing.

  Corporal Jonas had cussed and cursed when he heard his part in Lode’s plan. It wasn’t that it was a bad plan. It was just that it involved him getting piss wet through and bastard cold to boot. The two men had gone back into the woods, met briefly with Lode’s crew and had then slipped into the river. They carried only knives for protection and were clothed only in their undergarments. As expected the water was freezing. Corporal Jonas mouthed an oath. Lode looked over and smiled through gritted teeth. “You’re lucky, this is the second time I’ve had to do this today.”

  “Lucky my arse. If I was lucky I wouldn’t be in the middle of all this shit.” Corporal Jonas replied.

  They pushed out for the centre of the river and allowed the current to take them down river aided by a gentle breaststroke so as not to draw attention. As the crude bridge came into view, they both steered themselves to the posts near the eastern side. Lode took the nearest and Corporal Jonas the one that stood behind to it. Lode looked above him and then to either side. There seemed to be nobody on the bridge and no one left on the eastern bank. He turned to Corporal Jonas who indicated that there were two men standing on the western side of the rampway. As he looked, Lode could see that their backs were turned and they were deep in conversation. Hardly a surprise. Who would expect any silly fool to come down the river? Nodding to Corporal Jonas they set to work on the rampway. Using their knives they began to saw at the ropes that held the wooden poles together. As they cut, Lode began to feel the cold eat into his bones. He felt himself begin to shiver in the water. His fingers were getting bloody painful. Once all the rope he could reach was cut he manoeuvred to face the next post along. Kicking out with his feet at a ninety degree angle to the post to account for the current, he reached out and made a grab for it. The river got hold of him but he got an arm round and hugged himself to the wood. Corporal Jonas was already working on the next downriver post. They repeated the process and took off for the third in line. Lode was really suffering now. He barely had the strength to hold his arm up to slice the rope above him. Many times he had to stop, get a better grip and start again. Each time he got weaker and weaker. The diversion should be happening any time soon. Now would be better. As he cut the final strand he lost his grip on the post and was swept off by the river. A hand reached out and grabbed him. Corporal Jonas pulled him back towards his own post and Lode quickly got a grip around it. The two men then spent a few tense moments shivering in the water. A cry went up from a distance away and was quickly followed by a whole chorus of voices as the camp erupted into chaos. On the far side, Kely and his men were launching their diversion. Quickly they pushed out for the western bank. This close to it they could stand up and gain some purchase against the current. Corporal Jonas made a splitting motion with his fingers and he went to the left and Lode to the right of the western pier. As they emerged from the water the two sentries had moved off a little and were looking out towards the source of the noise. Many men were up and about carrying torches and heading towards the fight.

  Further along the line of mantlets, Lode saw more guards. If their attention had not been diverted elsewhere they might have seen the two of them creeping up on the pair at the bridge. They were illuminated clearly by the two torches that burned on either side of the pier, but as it was, only these two warriors presented an immediate problem. Lode wasn’t sure if he had enough energy left to tackle his target. Walking slowly behind the man, he held his knife ready. Making no noise on the soft, well trodden grass, he got to within a foot of his prey. Out of necessity they were still wearing boots, fortunately the soft leather made no squelching sounds. Looking from the corner of his eye, Jonas was ready to strike. Reaching out quickly Lode got his arm around the mouth of the Harradan. He firmly drew his blade across the man’s throat and kicked him under the knee to bring him down. As he did so he jammed his knife into the neck of the dying northerner. He then dragged the man back towards the river and out of sight. Checking to his left Corporal Jonas had already deposited his body. Jonas nodded to him and they mounted the pier and started to loosen the first ramp. Their luck held and they caused the ramp to split apart. Tree trunks fell into the river and dragged in their neighbours. The Harradan would have to make a new ramp if they wished to cross the river again.

  Behind them the shouts from the camp were dying down. It was time to go. Lode worked his way round the nearest rampart and made for the fort. Behind him, Jonas stopped for a moment, picked up the two torches and placed them onto the nearest mantlet. He turned to go but brought himself up to stop. Ahead of him stood a dark figure, cloaked and formless, though clearly small in build. The hood of the cloak was pulled well over the head, keeping the face hidden from him. The figure was silent and motionless and Lode felt himself being scrutinised. He was confused, why did they not raise the alarm? Well, he didn’t have time to worry about it and readied himself for a charge.

  “You should leave. Get away from here,” said a soft, feminine voice.

  Again Lode was shocked into inactivity. He had not expected a female and certainly wasn’t comfortable about knifing one. But there was something about that voice.

  He raised his hands in the air and walked slowly towards the woman. “I mean you no harm, woman, just let me pass,” he said. From the corner of his eye he spotted Corporal Jonas who was now edging quietly back towards him.

  “I know you don’t, Holis. You never have,” said the woman. She drew back her hood.

  Lode felt his heart skip a beat. “Lissa,” he whispered. “I never dared hope.”

  Lissa smiled sadly. “I know what you would say. But you have no time. You must know who you face. You cannot win here. Only die. Please go now whilst you have the chance. I can help to shield you from pursuit, like I have these past days.”

  Lode felt his anger grow. “Then if Vorgat is here, perhaps it is time to settle the score.”

  “Do not,” pleaded Lissa. “You could not get to him, and if you did he would cut you to pieces. Let it be enough that you know I still life. It gives me a small joy to know the man you have grown into.”

  Lode reached out and placed his hand on her cheek. “And I would be no kind of man if I ran n
ow. I’ll make my stand here. Not just for you but for all the friends that I have lost. If I can’t kill that bastard, at least I can hurt him. Come on, come with me.”

  Lissa reached up and gently removed his hand. She smiled but her eyes were rimmed with tears. “I cannot, Vorgat is…he… I cannot.” Lissa stopped looked away and shook her head. Then turning back to Lode, her eyes had grown cold. “You go back to your doom, Holis. I will pray for you and tend your body when it is over.”

  Lode, felt his throat tighten up. He swallowed and nodded his head. He looked over to Corporal Jonas who crouched behind a mantlet watching the exchange. With a short glance at Lissa he moved away from her and ran over to join his companion.

  “Friend of yours?” asked Corporal Jonas.

  “You could say that,” he replied. He turned and looked back. Lissa continued to watch him. “Let’s go.”

  They ran along the riverbank towards the far tree line. Moving back into the undergrowth they picked up their weapons and dressed. Old Hoarty joined them and said the trappers were keeping a lookout for the Harradan coming north. Apparently there were a lot of lights moving round the far edge of the clearing. As they finished dressing, the diversion force came steaming through the trees from the west. Without stopping they raced across the fire trench that was now little more than embers, and used three ropes to climb up the outer wall. Kely came last, breathing heavily.

  “Many come,” he whispered hoarsely to Lode before making for the wall.

  Forge watched as his men made the safety of the fort and collapsed in exhaustion. Apparently the attack had been a great success. They had released a swarm of arrows and spears that had gotten the attention of the camp but they had had to draw off quickly as many more Harradan were drawn into the fray. He looked westward and saw Harradan torches in the trees only fifty yards away now. Looking back at the trees ahead of him he saw Jonas, Lode and the others running across the trench. They began to pass up the captured bows and arrows to the men above.

  “Come on, come on!” he shouted.

  The Harradan were at the tree line. A few moments later arrows began to strike the walls. Forge’s men returned fire. Sleeps was shot in the back as he reached the top of the wall and fell back down to the ground below. He was hit a second time in the head as he tried to struggle up. He did not move again. On the wall Juggs screamed in despair and made to climb back down the rope. Lode and Fuzz quickly pulled her back and away from the edge. The Harradan did not follow but continued to send arrows across the divide. Looking back to the south Forge could see that one of the mantlets was on fire and men were rushing to pull away the adjoining ones.

  Now that everyone who was coming had climbed to safety, Forge slumped down behind the parapet. Corporal Jonas crab walked over to him.

  “All done, boss,” he said.

  “Well, nice to now we get some things right,” remarked Forge.

  “Didn’t like that bloody river though.”

  “Sorry, Corporal. I’ll bear that in mind next time I order a daft mission to demolish a bridge.”

  “Oh and you might like to know we had an unexpected meeting,” said Corporal Jonas, nonchalantly picking at his finger nails.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, seems our young war genius knows someone on the other side. A woman. Got most of the conversation. Reckon she might be their witch woman and that the two of ‘em might have some romantic history going on.”

  Forge exhaled loudly. “You now what Corporal? What with all that’s happened over the last few days, it really doesn’t surprise me.”

  In the eastern sky, dark red and orange threads were streaking through the blue black of night. Down below Juggs wept and the remaining men of Noel’s gap sat a silent vigil around her.

  “Well, dawn’s here. So that means they’ll be coming soon,” he said. This was the start of the second day of the siege. He did not think there would be another.

  A fountain of blood shot out from Kron Battlebane’s severed neck. He fell to his knees and clawed at his throat. Seconds later he pitched forward, the blood from the wound seeping into the ground. Vorgat wiped the blood from his sword on his arm then sheathed it. He spat on the corpse then spun round and walked back to his clan’s camp. He noted with satisfaction that none of the remaining members of Kron’s clan or the Bear Claws attempted to stop him. His leadership would now be unquestioned.

  Soon after the surprise attack on the western end of the encampment began and word had reached him of the sabotage of the crossing, Vorgat knew he would have to act. It certainly had been no surprise to him when the attack had happened. He had correctly guessed the thinking of his foe and had expected more acts of daring from them. Once the attack had begun he had passed word to his lieutenants not to engage in the pursuit of the southerners. He had then walked over to the ambush site. As predicted Kron and a handful of his men confronted him. The rest were still in the forest. He had deliberately placed the two most fractious clans on the western side of the encampment. They had not questioned this and did not think themselves vulnerable. Kron had probably welcomed the chance to start consolidating his own plans against Vorgat. Instead, his supporters had yet again suffered losses and were only now returning from their pursuit within the forest. As predicted Kron had challenged the continued attack on the fort and had questioned Vorgat’s decision to lead this campaign south. At which point Vorgat had drawn his sword.

  An hour later he faced the remaining clan chiefs and Lordswood. Not so strangely, the leader of the Bear Claws had been found with his throat cut within the forest.

  “Battlebane did not agree with my continued leadership of this campaign. Do any of you disagree?”

  “What if we do Vorgat?” asked the Broken Tooth leader. “Would you kill us and all of our men? I think three would be harder for you than one.”

  “Perhaps,” agreed Vorgat. “But your men are tired and mine are still fresh. You do not have the numbers, I think, to challenge me.”

  “So what do you propose?”

  “That we do what we always planned to,” he looked at the tired and drawn looking Shifter captain. “Have you been given orders to give up?”

  Lordswood shook his head tiredly. “I have been given no such orders. But I do not see how we can hope to achieve our mission…”

  Vorgat held his hand up “Do not worry, Shifter. I will see to it. Now gather your strength. We will launch the attack.”

  The clan chiefs nodded their heads and departed. The Shifter captain, shoulders sloped dejectedly walked away. He, like they, now realised he was a slave to Vorgat’s plan. The clan chief smiled as he watched them go. He felt rather than heard the witch behind him.

  “I thought you had put wards upon our camp witch.”

  “I had lord, but they were upon us too quickly. There is something about those tribesmen. They have a way about them….”

  “And the river, did you not think to watch that?” Vorgat interrupted.

  Lissa hesitated. “I did not think…”

  Vorgat did not allow her to finish her sentence. He whipped around and delivered a powerful backhand blow to her face. Lissa cried out in pain and fell to the floor.

  “You’re job is not to think bitch, it is to obey my wishes!” thundered Vorgat.

  Lissa spat blood from her mouth and kept her head bent in supplication. It had been some time since Vorgat had struck her, but she remembered not to induce him to more violence. Those distant days had been hard lessons.

  “Are you sure there wizard is dead?” he asked, his voice returning to its low growl.

  “Yes, lord. I felt his last life breath.”

  “And these tribesmen – have they magic to stop us?”

  “No lord, theirs is a singular power. It will not stop us.”

  “Then tomorrow we shall finish this. Do not fail me again witch. You will use your sight and make sure that no further surprises ha
ppen without my foreknowledge. Only that way will I believe you are still useful in keeping alive.” He turned and strode away from the cowering witch. As he left her vision, Lissa began to weep.

  As he walked through his clan’s encampment, Vorgat brooded. It was obvious to him now that this venture to the south was a doomed plan. They had wasted much time on this skirmish. More importantly the spirit and energy of the other clans and the Shifter troops had been badly mauled. Their ability to fight further battles to the south was affected. But he would see the southerners crushed. He would kill the Shifter officer and his men. Then he would give the clans a choice. Swear fealty to him or die. He would return to the north and he would become the High Chieftain of all the clans, there was no-one to stop him.