Jeff Salyards - Veil of the Deserters

The torch that had been thrown up into the tower must have been stamped out or kicked back behind the wall, but the archers weren’t showing themselves as much, given that their silhouettes made them targets and arrows continued to plunk into the wood or ricochet off the stone every time they stood to take aim at the men scaling the walls.

Gurdinn’s men climbed the ladders, shields held above them with one arm to offer some protection from the archers above. Though the walls were shorter than those around a castle, they were constructed in similar fashion-there was a parapet for the priestguard to man the wall, though simple and wooden. Two of the priestguard flung one ladder back before a Brunesmen could get purchase, but when two more tried to throw off the other ladder, a priestguard was struck twice and dove or fell, and the other ducked, giving two of Gurdinn’s men time to climb over. The first was cut down as an axe struck him in the face, and he tumbled backwards into the dry moat, but the other held off two more priestguards long enough for more Brunesmen to gain purchase and start battling the priestguard on top of the wall.

Three more ladders went up, and while two more were knocked back, the third held long enough for more Brunesmen to rush over the top and take the wall. The priestguard fought hard, and several Brunesmen were thrown or knocked off the wall.

It was difficult to make out much except shadowy movements, and flashes of torchlight off bits of armor and weapons and the edge of shields. But the ring and clamor of battle carried loud enough that felt like it was taking place right in front of me.

Mulldoos was right. Gaining and holding the spots on the wall was proving costly. Even with Gurdinn’s archers in the dark shooting at what must have been close range and taking out some of the priestguard, I saw several Brunesmen fall, either wounded badly enough to be out of the fight or dead. And a fair number who had been near the tops of ladders when they were repulsed must have sustained grievous injuries as well hitting the stones or packed earth below.

Vendurro pointed to the opposite side of the compound. Fire suddenly bloomed in two of the wooden towers there.

Braylar nodded in appreciation. “He drew most of the defenders to the north wall with the showy assault. The priestguard didn’t have enough men to hold the entire perimeter, or they were undisciplined and left the southern stretch. Either way, a clever stratagem.”

The priestguard saw the flames as well, as several went running across the courtyard to put them out and fight off any invaders inside the compound.

I saw one fall, dropping his shield and clutching the arrow in his thigh. It looked to have been shot from somewhere near the fires.

“Very clever,” Braylar said. “Captain Honeycock has lost men, but it won’t prove nearly as costly as it should.”

The defenders fought for every inch of the north wall as they tried to repel Gurdinn’s soldiers-some more ladders were pushed away, some more Brunesmen were cut down or pinned with arrows, but Braylar was right. With their forces split between the walls, the priestguard were overwhelmed, their bodies thrown from the wall or littering the courtyard.

When the balance shifted, it tipped quickly. Several Brunesmen that had managed to secure a spot on the courtyard formed up in a half-ring, fending off the priestguard while one of their comrades unbarred the large wooden gate and let the remainder in.

Near the wooden tower closest to us, three Brunesmen raced up the stairs. The archer in the tower had been shooting at other Brunesmen coming through the gate and hadn’t seen those nearest him until it was too late. He dropped his bow and tried to draw his sword, but a spear took him in the throat before he got it out of the scabbard.

Another pair of the priestguard started falling back to the lodge itself, shields and swords still up, as four Brunesmen advanced on them. I couldn’t tell if the Brunesmen ordered them to surrender or not, but if they did, the priest’s soldiers ignored them.

Two of Gurdinn’s men in the center kept the priestguard occupied, swords flashing, shields blocking the blows, but the other two quickly flanked the priest’s soldiers and cut them down, hammered them from all angles until the swords found a spot not protected by mail and pummeled or shattered the bones and flesh underneath. The four Brunesmen moved off quickly in a group, attacking another knot of the priest’s soldiers from the rear who were trying to retreat from the wall.

Several of Henlester’s men ran for the entrance to the lodge, but Gurdinn’s men cut them off. Looking around, and seeing themselves badly outnumbered, they started throwing their shields and weapons in the dirt.

I thought with their blood up, the Brunesmen might not be in the prisoner-taking mood. Gaining the courtyard hadn’t been easy, even with the diversion, and they’d seen several of their own wounded or cut down. But Brune’s soldiers were disciplined enough not to murder unarmed men. Or feared punishment from Gurdinn. Or more likely the Baron himself. Either way, they kicked weapons away, ordered Henlester’s soldiers on their knees, and bound their arms behind their backs.

A few more priestguard fought on in small pockets, but soon the clang of battle died down, and it wasn’t long before the remaining priestguard saw that the engagement was decided and threw down their weapons as well.

I saw Gurdinn in the middle of the courtyard, his sword edged in blood that looked black. He took stock as the priestguard were trussed and guarded, as the Brunesmen dead and wounded were tended to, cleaned his blade and slowly slid it back in the scabbard. Like Braylar, he led from the front.

Mulldoos said, “Lost some men, but that old bastard pulled it off. Stubborn prick, but seems to be smarter when the fight’s on than when it ain’t.”

Hewspear agreed. “Smart plan, sound execution. He lost fewer men than he really should have, all things considered.”

“Then again, Henlester might have a former soldier or two in his employ, but if so, judging by that fiasco, they’re either green as hell or ain’t seen any proper fighting in a long time. No cohesion at all. Lost their advantage, responded too slow or too fast.”

With the gate open, most of the Brunesmen had moved into the lodge compound, some to guard the prisoners and lead them back to their camp, some to aid their wounded, but most gathered around Gurdinn as he called out something in the direction of the stone lodge. I noticed he hadn’t slung his shield on his back yet.

Vendurro asked, “How long, you figure?”

“Before what?” Mulldoos replied. “Henlester comes out or I take a shit?”

“The surrender, I was thinking.”

Braylar didn’t give Mulldoos time to respond. “The High Priest stood a fair chance of holding Honeycock at bay, provided he held the wall. But the lodge proper isn’t designed to really withstand a serious attack. Too many doors and windows. Two or three accessible from the top of the stables, there.” He pointed, presumably for my benefit, as if I might not have been able to identify stables or windows. “I’m guessing there are only a handful of priestguard inside-he committed them all to the defense of the wall. As he should have. Now that he’s lost that, and unless I misjudge and Henlester is a tremendous fool, he will come out shortly. He has little choice.”

“Head held real high, though.” Mulldoos laughed. “Like Gurdinn ought to be grateful he deigned to surrender to the likes of him and his lot. Ought to kiss the hem of his tunic, thank him for being such a holy horsecunt of a powerful prisoner.”

Hewspear added, “Which is exactly why he might keep Gurdinn waiting all morning. While he has nothing to truly gain by it, inconveniencing someone he considers a lesser shouldn’t be discounted.”