David Gemmell - Dark Moon

A bugle blew.

Forin and his men ran left and right, opening a gap through which a ballista could send its murderous ammunition slashing into the Daroth ranks. Hundreds of the creatures were down now, more falling with every heartbeat as the merciless hail of death continued from the windows on either side.

There was nowhere for the Daroth to run. Ahead of them were the deadly ballistae, on either side the alleyways were blocked. And as the death toll continued to rise, they fought to make their way to the only haven: the north gate.

Forin took a blow to the head which sent him reeling, his helmet flying clear. As the Daroth ran in for the kill, the giant reared up to smash his axe into his enemy's face. The blade plunged home, then tore itself away. The spear of a second Daroth struck his breastplate, denting it deeply and bruising his ribs. Spinning, Forin lunged with his axe, stabbing both points through the Daroth's chest. The creature's fist crashed against Forin's brow. Stunned, the giant stumbled to his knees. Dace appeared beside him, his sword half decapitating the Daroth. Forin struggled to his feet, dragged his axe clear of the dead Daroth and charged back into the fray.

Her face expressionless, Karis watched the battle. Humans were dying now as the frantic Daroth warriors tore at the makeshift walls, hacking and stabbing at the crossbow-men on the ground level. At least fifteen of Forin's men were down.

Four Daroth warriors broke clear of Forin's line and made it to the ballistae. Dace ran up behind the last of them, cutting him down. Crossbow bolts slammed into the second and third men, but the fourth leapt straight at Karis.

Vint was the closest to her. He heard his name shouted and turned to see Tarantio throwing one of his swords. The shimmering blade spun through the air and Vint leapt to catch it, his hand curling round the hilt. Even as he caught it, he knew he would be too late. Spinning on his heel, he ran towards the Daroth.

The creature's sword swept up, but Karis stood her ground, staring defiantly at him.

At that moment a hurtling black form crashed into the Daroth, Stealer's huge jaws clamping to his neck. Off balance, the Daroth fell back. Ozhobar lunged forward to send his hammer cracking against the side of the attacker's head. Vint sent Tarantio's sword slicing through his spine. As the creature fell dead, the hound continued to gnaw at his throat. 'Here!' called Karis. Stealer backed away, still growling.

A slow rumbling began, like distant thunder. Vint glanced round to see Necklen and ten men hauling a new catapult along the avenue. Behind it were several horse-drawn wagons, the first carrying fresh shot and a burning brazier. Ozhobar ran back to them.

The Daroth were streaming back for the gates as the bugle sounded. Forin, Dace and the surviving eleven armoured warriors turned and ran back towards the ballistae. A blazing pottery ball flew over their heads and exploded just below the gate tower. Close-packed as they were, the flames engulfed twenty Daroth warriors. In panic the remaining Daroth trampled each other to escape, and the flames spread.

A second ball soared over the walls to scatter blazing oil over the warriors milling there.

The Daroth army fled back towards the hills.

'Clear the dead!' yelled Karis. 'Make way for the wagons.'

Dace ran among the Daroth corpses, checking them. Several of them were still alive, and these he despatched swiftly. Soldiers began to drag the giant bodies back to the walls on either side, and three wagons inched their way to the gates. Ozhobar rode the first wagon, and when it reached the gate tower he jumped down and called for help to unload. Each of the three wagons carried interlocking sections made up of long iron bars. Ropes and pulleys were assembled on the parapet above, hauling the sections into place, lodging them into the deep grooves which stonemasons had carved in the solid stone on both sides of the gate tower.

Behind the workmen the catapult was hauled into place. Necklen ran to the gate and gauged the distance to the Daroth weapon. No more than 200 paces. Moving back to the catapult, he passed the information to young Beris.

Moments later a blazing ball soared over the walls, exploding some thirty feet to the left of the Daroth machine. Soldiers on the walls cheered as Daroth soldiers hastily roped their catapult, dragging it back out of harm's way.

Slowly the iron portcullis was assembled, effectively re-blocking the gateway. Ozhobar stood back, hands on hips, admiring his handiwork. 'Not bad,' he said. 'Not bad at all.'

Across the avenue stretcher-bearers, Brune among them, were carrying away the Corduin wounded and dead. Vint moved amongst them, checking the numbers of injured and slain. He crossed to where Karis was standing with Tarantio.

'Forin lost thirty-nine men: thirty-seven dead, two badly wounded. Just under sixty other men died, or will not fight again. As far as I can tell we killed around two hundred and thirty Daroth.'

Karis nodded, but said nothing. 'You did it, General,' said Vint. 'You turned them back.'

'We've certainly made them think,' she agreed.

Vint offered Tarantio his sword. The dark-haired warrior grinned. 'Keep it! But be careful how you sheathe it.'

Vint nodded. 'If I had known how deadly it was, I'd have thought twice about catching it.' He glanced up.

The sun was still climbing in the sky. 'Sweet Heaven,' he said. 'You would have thought it would be dusk by now, and yet it is not an hour since the charge began.'

Forin joined them. 'Will someone help me get this damned breastplate off?' he said. 'I can't breathe in it.'

The armour was covered with deep dents, and there was a gash across the back where the metal had split.

Once Tarantio and Vint eased the breastplate clear, Forin stripped off his shirt. His upper body was covered in bruises, and there was a shallow cut on his shoulder. 'I'm not looking forward to going through that again,' he grumbled, sitting down on a broken wall.

'You fought well, big man,' said Vint. 'I think you killed three of them.'

'Two. Tarantio took the last. But I marked a few too.' He looked up at Karis. 'You think they'll come back today?'

'Men wouldn't,' she said. 'The generals would get together and rethink their strategy. They are not men, however.'

'Do you have another fiendish plan for them?' asked the giant.

'No,' Karis admitted. 'Send for me if they charge again.' With that she turned and strode away, the dog Stealer padding alongside her.

'She's not much on celebration, is she?' remarked Ozhobar.

As the day wore on, and the Daroth remained in their camp, an air of jubilation swept through the city. The invincible Daroth had been turned back by the strength and courage of the soldiers, and by the strategic brilliance of Karis. Crowds formed outside the palace, cheering her name.

Inside, Karis lay in a hot bath with Stealer lying at the edge, looking quizzically at his adopted mistress.

Her thoughts were many and confused. Far from jubilation, she felt a sense of panic - almost of loss. It had begun when she had seen Necklen hanging from the rooftop; the old man meant more to her than she had realized. Then, when Forin charged in with his men, and she saw them cut down, one after another. With each one that died, a part of herself faded. War and death.

She was suddenly tired of both. And yet this was just the beginning. The Daroth would be wary now; they would circle the city, looking for a weak spot, then launch another attack ... and another. Even if Corduin held, what would be gained? There were seven cities of the Daroth, and their power was enormous.

Karis sighed, then ducked her head under the warm water, washing her dark hair. 'What is it for?' she asked Stealer. Cocking his head he gazed back at her. 'Is there a point to it all?'