Sam Barone: Dawn of Empire

“I’ve sent you every man I could find. Totomes says they’re driving the barbarian archers back.”

“It’s taking too long. They’re almost ready to assail the gate. Strip every archer from the other walls. Send villagers to take their place. Just get more men to the towers.”

Leaving Gatus, Esk kar raced back up the steps to Grond’s side, who’d prepared another oil — filled wine jug.

An arrow whistled through the slit just as Esk kar was about to look, the shaft passing between the two men’s faces. They looked grimly at each other. But he needed to see, so he took a quick look. He saw plenty of activity across the ditch, but so far the Alur Meriki hadn’t tried to push another section out. They would at any moment.

“Captain, this is the last of the oil,” Grond said. “But I think I can throw this close to their wagon, if you can cover me.”

Esk kar looked at Grond’s huge arms and shoulders. This jug appeared smaller than the others. If anyone could do it, Grond could. Nevertheless, he’d have to stand up, brace himself, and make the throw. But if he could reach the wagon…

“Archers,” Esk kar shouted, “ready yourself for a volley.” He picked up his shield. The soldiers readied themselves. Grond held out the jar and Alcinor touched the torch to the rag, which flamed up for a moment before it began to burn steadily with a smoky haze.

Esk kar glanced up and down the parapet. The archers looked grim but ready with their bows. “Now!” They rose up and released a hasty volley, enough to distract the closest barbarian archers for a moment.

In that instant Esk kar arose, holding the shield to protect Grond, who grasped the top edge with his left hand and hurled the wine jug.

Esk kar pulled Grond back down with his free hand as arrows hissed above them. Esk kar’s shield had four arrows protruding from it. Glancing through the slit he saw that Grond’s throw had been true. The jug landed just in front of the wagon and burst into flames. Splashes of oil reached and immediately began to burn the dry wood of the cart. The warriors tried to quench the flames, but Orak’s archers drove them back.

Covering most of the slit with his shield, Esk kar watched as the warriors reacted. At first they did little. Then an Alur Meriki war leader gathered warriors with shields and ordered them in front of the cart, to protect those who would extinguish the flames.

This time the attackers not only extinguished the fire, but draped two hides over the wagon’s front. Meanwhile warriors loosed arrows at a rapid pace as they prepared once again to place the final bridge section. Esk kar and his men had slowed their advance but not stopped it.

With a shout the barbarians swarmed around the wagon and took up another section of bridge. They ignored the flickering flames that lingered in places underfoot as well as the arrows that flew into their ranks. Esk kar heard the heavy section drop into place beneath the gate. This time a few of the attackers paused long enough to scoop mud and dirt from the ditch onto the new platform, trying to wet the wood before the villagers could throw more burning oil.

Fresh reserves of enemy fighters, most with bows but many with axes, rushed out from behind the wagons, shouting war cries as they came. They raced across the muddy and smoking bridge, stepping on the bodies of their fallen, whose dead and dying bodies littered the ditch. Now twice as many barbarians stood under the gate, arrows nocked and ready to shoot at anything that moved.

Esk kar felt the first axe thud into the gate. “Stones!” he bellowed. Men dropped their bows and began heaving the river rocks over the gate.

A second and third axe began plying on the gate, the sound ringing throughout the village. Their shields protected the Alur Meriki somewhat from falling stones.

“Stones! Arrows! Now,” Esk kar yelled. Stones flew over the top, until the melon — sized rocks fell like rain.

Alcinor, his voice cracking, shouted at the men, reminding them to drop the stones straight down, for the men below surely pressed themselves as close as possible to the wall, to avoid the bone — breaking missiles.

In a few moments of frenzied activity the defenders exhausted all the stones on the parapet. Alcinor screamed for more rocks, and Esk kar risked an arrow to take another look through the slit. The first wagon side had been pushed into the ditch. The Alur Meriki wanted to move the wagon as close to the gate as possible. They’d tried to guide it directly onto the bridge, but one side must have gone over faster than the other and now one of the wheels had caught in the mud. Still, three of the wagon’s wheels rested on the bridge, and another cart carrying a fresh supply of wood and oil had taken its place.

Warriors crawled and stumbled in the ditch now, ignoring the arrows that flew at them, to free and move the first wagon forward. Esk kar heard them cursing the clumsy vehicle that clung to the mud and resisted their efforts, until nearly twenty men lifted and pushed it free and completely onto the bridge. Meanwhile other barbarians seized tools and axes and rushed back to the gate, ignoring the flames that still burned in places.

A fresh group of warriors, weaponless but carrying large wooden shields, came forward to protect the axe men hammering at the gate from the stones. Damn the gods, there seemed to be no end to these barbarians.

Esk kar turned back to Grond. “I’ll try and find more fire jugs. The first wagon is within reach now, and they’re bringing up another.” The big man nodded, and Esk kar swung from the edge of the parapet to the ground for the third time. There he nearly knocked over Narquil.

Totomes’s son had just descended from the right tower. He staggered toward Esk kar, blood pouring down his right arm, two arrows protruding from it. Esk kar grabbed the man and shouted for a messenger. A boy, eyes wide, appeared from under the wall.

“Bring Narquil to the women and have them stop the bleeding.”

Narquil, his eyes wide with shock from pain and loss of blood, grasped Esk kar’s arm with his left hand. “Captain… look at the arrow.”

He slurred the words, and at fi rst Esk kar thought Narquil wanted him to look at the wound.

“The arrow, Captain… it’s one of ours. They’re running out of arrows.”

“Yes, I see. Go with the boy now.” Turning to the messenger, Esk kar ordered him to get moving, then raced up the tower where he’d started the morning. Emerging into the sunlight, he found blood and bodies everywhere. Death had thinned their ranks, but archers still worked their bows.

He found Totomes. The grim archer had held his place, calmly aiming and firing shafts at his hated enemy, using the tower’s vantage to kill as many clan leaders as possible.

“Totomes, can your archers sweep the ditch of warriors?” he shouted, almost in the man’s ear. “They’re at the gate with axes.”

Totomes loosed the arrow on his bowstring before ducking below the wall, pulling Esk kar down with him. “Not yet, Captain. We’d have to lean too far over the wall to get a shot at them. We’re killing the bowmen behind the barricade. Their fire is slowing and they’re running out of arrows.

The men in the ditch will have to wait.”

“We may not have that much time left. They’re weakening the gate and fire will be upon us soon.”

“I’ll do what I can, Captain, but you must hold them off a little longer.

Are my sons still alive?”

“Narquil was wounded in the arm and I sent him to the women. He’ll fight no more today. I haven’t seen Mitrac.” Esk kar started to move away, then turned back to the master archer. “Narquil said the same thing, that they were running out of arrows. One of the arrows that wounded him was one of ours. Does that mean anything?”