David Gemmell - Dark Moon

Necklen grabbed a torch, lit it from the brazier and applied it to the oil-soaked rags which Beris had rammed into the holes. 'Here comes another!' shouted Gelan.

'Well, let's send one back!' snarled Necklen, hammering the trigger bolt. The red ball, flames and smoke hissing

from it, soared high - passing within yards of the Daroth shot. The black ball of lead struck the rooftop, hit a beam and crashed through to the empty second floor of the barracks building.

'Haul her back! Don't wait to look!' shouted Necklen, though he himself could not resist following the flight of their blazing shot. It struck the top of the first Daroth catapult - and shattered. Flames rippled down the black machine. The Daroth ran forward to hurl earth over the blaze.

A great cheer went up from the battlements.

'One more!' shouted Necklen, and second ball of flame flew into the sky. The Daroth scattered as it smashed down, fire exploding out in a huge circle. The wooden catapult was engulfed now.

But the second enemy machine loosed another shot which thundered against the side of the building, ripping away an entire corner which slid away to crash to the street below.

'Right three marks!' shouted Beris. 'Take her down two more notches.'

Slowly they swung the machine. 'One shot is all we'll have,' said Necklen, trying to keep his voice calm.

'Make it a good one, boy!'

'Yes, sir,' said Beris. Once they had loaded the ball and Gelan had filled it with oil, Necklen ordered the boys from the rooftop. Another huge lead ball soared by them, missing the catapult by inches and destroying the store of pottery ammunition. 'Get out now!' shouted Necklen.

The boys ran to the ladders as Necklen slammed the trigger bolt clear. He should have followed them, but he could not resist watching the flight of his last missile. Once again the Daroth loosed a shot. It left their catapult just

as the pottery ball exploded over it, spraying burning oil over the machine. Two Daroth warriors were engulfed, and ran across the hillside like living torches.

'Yes!' shouted Necklen, punching the air. 'Did you enjoy that, you bastards?'

The last Daroth shot hammered into the platform, smashing the catapult. One of the retaining bars burst clear, striking Necklen in the shoulder and spinning him across the rooftop. As his legs slipped over the edge he threw out his hand, scrabbling at an edge of masonry, and clung to it with all his strength.

There was no way back. The old warrior did not possess enough strength in one arm to haul himself to safety. His strength was ebbing away when a face appeared above him and little Beris reached down and grabbed his arm.

'Let go, you fool! You can't take my weight. You'll be dragged over with me.' But the boy clung on.

'Gelan is getting ... a ... rope,' said Beris. 'I can hold you till he comes.'

'Please, boy! Just let go. I couldn't bear to take you with me.'

'No, sir,' said Beris, his freckled face crimson with the effort of holding on. Necklen gripped the ledge more tightly, fighting to stay calm. His fingers were tiring, and his arm began to tremble.

Just then Gelan appeared and threw a loop over Necklen's head. Pushing his useless left arm through it, he hooked himself to the rope. 'It is tied to a beam,' shouted Gelan.

'Good boy,' said Necklen. 'Now let go, Beris, there's a good lad.' When Beris did so, Necklen dropped around four feet; but the rope tightened and he dangled there, feeling sick with relief. Moments later three strong men dragged him back to safety.

Necklen grinned at the boys. 'I hope you never learn to take orders, lads,' he told them.

'Yes, sir!' they chorused, grinning.

But Necklen's smile faded as he saw the Daroth hauling another catapult over the hills.

As the first of the huge lead balls crashed into the wall beside the gate Vint ordered the troops back. The two blazing Daroth catapults were now oozing thick plumes of black smoke into the sky.

'What can you see?' yelled Karis. Vint eased himself up, and stared through the crenellated battlements.

'Two Daroth legions are massing,' he shouted. 'They are moving slowly forward.'

A second lead ball struck the gates, smashing two thick timbers and splitting the giant locking bar. 'They are coming at a run now,' yelled Vint. 'Maybe three thousand of them. The rest are just waiting.'

Another lead shot smashed home, tearing open the gates and rolling ponderously into the avenue beyond.

Vint ran for the steps, taking them three at a time, then sprinted down towards a line of wagons stretching across the avenue. Karis, Ozhobar and Tarantio were already there.

Two hundred crossbow-men moved through a gap in the wagons and took up positions in front of them, one line kneeling and the other standing behind. They weren't going to stop the Daroth, thought Vint. Not 200.

The first of the enemy pushed their way past the ruined gates, saw the crossbow-men, and charged. They came in silence, save for the pounding of their boots on the cobbles. The silence itself chilled Vint. He drew his sabre, knowing that the weapon was useless against the leathery skins of the Daroth, yet feeling better for having it in his hand.

'Wait!' shouted Karis, her voice clear and calm. The twenty-wide mass of the Daroth attackers came closer.

Seventy feet. Fifty. Forty. 'Now!' she cried. The kneeling line of crossbow-men loosed their shafts, which hammered home into the leading warriors. Scores went down while the rest charged on. 'Again!' yelled Karis. The standing line let fly, and a second black cloud of bolts plunged home. The charge scarcely faltered.

Suddenly crossbow bolts came shooting from every window on either side of the avenue. Bowmen rose up from behind the hastily erected walls across the alleys, sending volley after volley into the Daroth ranks.

Vint heard a whip crack. In an alley, hidden from sight, three oxen lunged into the traces and the wagons were hauled away, exposing three enormous steel-armed ballistae hidden behind them. The two lines of crossbow-men sprinted clear left and right, just as the Daroth charged again.

Ozhobar slammed his hammer against a release bolt and two pounds of spreading iron shot screamed into the attackers, smashing the first line from their feet. Standing to one side, Vint saw a Daroth's face swept away in a milky blur, shards of bone spraying into the air. All around, mutilated Daroth warriors were hurled to the cobbles. A second ballista loosed its load, punching a great gap in the Daroth line. Vint stood back and watched three men smoothly drawing the deadly arms of the first ballista into position. Then the third sent its lethal missiles into the packed ranks of the enemy. Crossbow bolts continued to rain from the windows, and the carnage in the avenue continued. Now the first two lines of crossbow-men edged back along the walls, spreading out again behind the ballistae and loosing their bolts into the enemy.

One Daroth warrior, his left arm torn away, stumbled

forward and then hurled his spear. It took a crossbow-man through the chest, hurling him back into a wall. Tarantio relaxed and allowed Dace to take control. He leapt forward and with one sweep of his blade disembowelled the creature, then beheaded him as he fell. 'That's one for Sirano and his spell swords,' said Dace.

As the enemy charged once more, the arms of one of the ballistae snapped off. Within seconds the Daroth had reached the weapons. Then the second ballista blasted lead shot into them at point-blank range, lifting three warriors from their feet and slamming them into their comrades.

From the alley alongside the ballista Forin and his fifty axemen charged into the fray. Dace was in with them, his eldritch swords cleaving a path through the enemy. Vint, his own sword useless, scrambled back from the action and joined Karis and Ozhobar. Taking up a crossbow, he cocked it and sent a bolt through the brain of a towering warrior.