Brave Men Die: Part 2 Page 18

  With the hinges broken Ara realised that the amount of men there could never close the two massive wooden doors without some sort of magical aid. Not in time to save the lives of the three fighting so valiantly outside. The lightning storm was waning as Daria tired from the continuous casting. Stepping behind Pollux, Ara closed her eyes to capture the spell in her mind and concentrated on casting. Balls of flame appeared in her palms as she spoke the incantation for Lava Orbs. Slowly the flames engulfed her arms and she prepared to release the spell.

  ‘Get down!’ screamed Ara, stepping forward and launching the orbs of fire at the enemy, burning those in its direct path. Those around the burning men backed off, keeping them from stepping into the strike range of the Murukans. Fear kept them at bay.

  ‘That won’t buy us much time. We must act quickly.’ Turning away she ordered the men to push harder as she cast a levitation spell on the first door.

  ‘Now push!’ she ordered.

  Ara couldn’t tell if the sweat that trickled down her face was from the humidity or from the anxiety that crept into her bones. She wondered whether the boys standing outside the gates risking their lives would survive. Despite his difficult nature, Ara would definitely be put out if Pollux got himself killed now.

  Twenty soldiers moved at her barked command and began pushing against the door with all their strength. Slowly it started to move back into place, inch by inch. The way it was going winter would arrive before the bloody doors were closed.

  Pollux was relieved at the breather but knew the doors would need time as he slowly got back up on his feet. He heard some muttered words and realised that Ara had cast another incantation behind him and noticed a lack of fire balls trailing overhead. He had no idea what Ara had cast, but he doubted it was some sort of shield. The arrows would be coming soon. He risked a glance behind him and the doors were afloat with men pressing against them, their faces straining. He looked at Ara, her auburn hair matted with sweat on her forehead. She was in deep concentration as she lifted both doors at once. Perhaps it wasn’t going to be too much longer.

  The arrows came down. It was Tove’s warning that saved his neck and gave him time to raise his shield above his head. Arrows thudded in, grazing Pollux’s arm as they passed through the wood. Two went tearing into the side of his thigh. Blood dribbled down his leg as he shifted his weight to the other foot.

  The Kyzantines charged again. They surged forward as the rhythm of the beating drums grew faster and faster. Between the drum strokes was the sound of hammers beating against metal. The hinges were being fixed.

  Pollux kept his ground and fought back. His muscles were aching and his armour was getting heavy. He was worried about bleeding out, he couldn’t stay on his feet with this much blood loss. ‘Get inside,’ a voice screamed.

  Pollux looked over his shoulder. Ara was standing there with the doors closing before her.

  ‘Move boys, we need to get back inside before they lock us out here with the dogs,’ Pollux ordered, eyeing off the hungry animals before him.

  Each started to step back. Tove hobbled every time his left foot hit the ground. They needed to move faster without breaking the line and letting them through. Pollux pushed to the right to cover Tove as he struggled.

  Pollux struck the man in front of Tove and ordered him to run. He turned and did the best he could, hobbling along. If it wasn’t so serious it would have been hilarious. His entire left side dipped as he went for the open gate. Pollux took another blow on his shield. A spear hurtled overhead. It took Tove through the chest and he went sprawling to the ground.

  ‘Faster boys,’ cried Ara, concern seeping into her voice as Tove was impaled.

  Both Pollux and Octans swung out and cut through the men in front, then slammed into the dead bodies with their shields and pushed them back into the horde and the electrical storm. They turned and raced through the gate, stooping to pick up Tove’s fallen body. Pollux thought he saw his chest move up and down and there was no way he was leaving him out there with the enemy.

  Ice Shards blasted overhead into those chasing them down. It bought them some time. Pollux and Octans grabbed Tove under each shoulder and heaved his body between them. They pushed harder, their feet digging into the ground as they hurried. Octans went through first, turning sideways to fit through the closing doors. Hands reached out and took Tove from them as Pollux squeezed through, a blade biting deep into his tricep. The doors slammed together wedging the blade in place. Pollux grabbed at his wound, the blood pouring freely, and hoped he could keep some on the inside.

  He looked around for Tove. His body was lowered gently to the ground and his breathing was rasping and harsh. Someone had snapped the spear but it remained lodged in his abdomen.

  Pollux dropped to his knees beside him and reached out for his free hand. He gripped it as tightly as he dared and could feel Tove’s fingers squeeze back in return. Octans stood at his shoulder, his eyes downcast looking at the fallen boy.

  ‘You did an exceptional job Tove. Today you were a hero. No one can take that from you.’

  He looked into Tove’s eyes as the fire in them died. He slipped from consciousness and his grip on his hand went limp.

  ‘Take his body back to the barracks with the baron’s,’ he ordered one of the soldiers looking on.

  He slowly got to his feet, finally releasing his grip on Tove’s hand as a messenger came rushing through the mass of bodies circling the fallen hero.

  ‘Pollux, Byrn has sent me to you, he said you were now in charge, general of the Buckthorne forces until he is fit enough to return to the fighting.’

  Pollux stared the messenger down as the stunned crowd around him went silent. Obviously this was the old man’s way to make sure everyone here knew about the appointment.

  ‘He is alright isn’t he?’ Pollux asked.

  ‘A few more scratches than he would care to admit.’

  Pollux let his chest relax.

  ‘But there is a more concerning issue. The right wall has been breached and needs to be retaken. With each moment the Kyzantines are gaining more ground.’

  ‘Run to Byrn and tell him I’ll keep his position warm until he returns.’

  ‘Yes general,’ the messenger snapped, saluted, and raced off.

  Pollux stood startled for the moment. He had just been saluted and called a general. Not something he was expecting despite the promotion. Gods, it had only been three weeks since he was promoted to sergeant and now he was commanding all of these men.

  To Octans he said, ‘We need to retake the right wall and send them packing. At least for the night.’

  ‘Yes sir.’

  Octans took off ordering those standing around to accompany him. Pollux stood and watched them carry Tove’s body off.

  Ara walked over to him and slapped him hard across the face. Pollux stepped back under the blow. Others were watching and he didn’t want to make a scene. It wouldn’t be good if their new commander was getting thumped by a mage. He rubbed his jaw and reckoned that a red imprint of her hand must now sit on the side of his cheek. At least she hadn’t burned him.

  ‘What was that for?’

  ‘That was the most stupid thing I’ve ever seen. You are the leader of these men and you cannot put yourself in that position.’

  ‘I’m a fighter first Ara, a leader second. I did what I had to do for the Kingdom.’ He stared her down while the Fists dispersed around him to avoid the confrontation.

  Pollux kept his voice low so the men couldn’t hear. ‘In the overall scheme of things I don’t matter at all. When the reinforcements come, any noble that comes with them takes command. Hydrus returns from the Gorgon Pass for his father’s funeral and he takes command. Byrn could take it from me anytime. I’m expendable.’

  ‘Excuse me. You’re also acting as my acolyte and as such you need to be alive to protect me when I cast.’

  ‘You said you didn’t need protecting.’

  ‘You can still do things for
me.’

  ‘Look, I’m the general of the Buckthorne forces until someone else gets here. Don’t you think I’m shitting myself? I have no idea how to do this. And as long as you’re here, I will protect you with my life.’

  ‘So what was that stunt? Glory? Heroics?’

  ‘Duty.’

  Ara looked at him.

  ‘Maybe a little bit of the others too,’ he said with a smile forming on his lips.

  Ara rolled her eyes. ‘Don’t you have a wall to retake?’

  Pollux turned his attention to the wall. He spotted Octans easily, the big man was at the front of a group of the Fists cleaving his way through the Kyzantines.

  ‘I think Octans has it under control. Plus I could use some patching up. Would you care to join me on the tower? I think Daria could use your help with some aggressive casting. I would like the enemy off my walls by sunset.’

  Octans had surged along the right side of Black Claw, pinning down the invading force between his men and the Fangs positioned behind the enemy. Caught between the hammer and the anvil they had been smashed. Now he just had to deal with the rest of them trying to take their place. He waited until the woman’s head reached the top of the wall, then swung his blade around and took her head off. Her hands still clung tightly to the top rung so he whacked her fingers with the flat of his blade, broke them and her purchase on the ladder. The body fell, colliding with the other climbers on the way down.

  Finally the sun was setting and the trumpets in the enemy camp sounded in the distance. Octans took off his helmet and wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his arm. Those pressed against the wall below walked off, taking their ladders and battering rams with them. Men around him slumped to the ground exhausted.

  ‘Every second man stand down,’ he ordered.

  The order was passed along the line and it had a ripple effect over the entire unit of men stationed on the wall. Those that hadn’t slumped to the ground before crumpled instantly, some had to get back up. Some lay down where they stood and put their heads on their chests and went to sleep, too exhausted to move. One man stepped to the edge of the wall, undid his fly and pissed on the bodies of the dead at his feet.

  ‘Any serious injuries report to the medic.’

  ‘Sir,’ came a cry from a wounded soldier who was lying against the rampart with his hand raised.

  ‘I would love to get to the medic sir but I really don’t think my legs are going to get me there.’

  Octans looked over the man. He was a few years older and had taken a blow across both his thighs. It looked deep and the blood was still flowing. How he had remained standing afterwards to repel the Kyzantines he had no idea.

  ‘It only looks like a scratch.’

  ‘Well sir, perhaps, but I don’t really seem to have any feeling in them.’

  ‘Well then we better get you some help.’

  Octans indicated to the soldier beside him to grab the wounded man on the other side and between them they heaved him up and carried him down the stairs. Octans was sure the man felt every jolt but he said nothing. They raced across the compound to the makeshift surgery and put him on a bed.

  ‘Look after him doc,’ said Octans as he patted the soldier on the shoulder and headed back to the gate.

  He figured that Pollux would still be on the tower, watching the retreat and trying desperately to think of how they would hold out tomorrow. He couldn’t believe that Pollux was the general now.

  The hierarchy had shifted completely now. With the baron dead and Byrn stepping down temporarily while he recovered from his injuries, the younger men of Buckthorne would get their chance to prove themselves — if they could survive that long. His junior officers in the Fists kept dying or getting hit, and he was replacing them daily with men who had come back from the infirmary or with men with half the confidence and experience. Luckily fewer and fewer sergeants were needed the longer this went on.

  Octans thudded up the internal stairs and onto the roof. Pollux stood next to Byrn, looking over the enemy. The old man probably shouldn’t even be out of bed, let alone advising Pollux. The two magi huddled in a corner, deep in discussion. They all looked his way when he emerged into the light, only to glance away when they realised it was just him.

  ‘Shouldn’t you be in bed Byrn? An old man like you surely can’t stay up after it gets dark.’

  ‘I’d watch yourself you little scoundrel, or this old man will give you the beating of your life. Again … if I recall.’

  ‘Memory troubles,’ Octans tsked. ‘Another sign of old age.’

  Pollux smiled and made sure that Byrn couldn’t see it as his cheeks went red with fury.

  ‘I have things to discuss with the new general.’

  ‘So do I. I came to ask the fearless leader what’s our next move?’

  ‘You mock me captain?’ asked Pollux, humour creeping into his tone.

  ‘You made him the captain?’ stammered Byrn. ‘Surely there were better options.’

  Pollux smiled, ignoring Byrn. ‘Of course I have a plan.’

  ‘Well—’

  ‘Half a plan.’

  ‘That doesn’t involve us all dying.’

  ‘Running away?’

  Byrn’s face distorted into rage at the comment. ‘Buckthorne’s forces do not flee from the enemy. We stand here til the last.’

  Pollux and Octans burst into laughter. The sound carried and soon the magi were chuckling as well. Relief washed over the compound, and perhaps a little confusion.

  ‘You know it was you and your brother who sent me grey so bloody fast. If Cronos had found some other bastard to look after the two of you then I would still look a young man. And I wouldn’t have had to deal with the trouble of this one either,’ he ranted, pointing a finger at Octans’ chest.

  Octans held his hands up in the air.

  Pollux chuckled at the memory of Byrn’s discovery of his first grey hair. It had been the day after Castor and him had gotten into trouble on the first seventh day after they arrived in Buckthorne.

  ‘I would never dream of it Byrn. With the honour of Buckthorne at stake I will die on this tower when the Kyzantine horde runs us down.’

  ‘Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that or you'll expect all of us up here to die with you,’ said Octans.

  ‘You Octans? Never. The tower is for commanders. I expect you will die somewhere on the wall with the rest of the Fists.’

  Octans punched him in the arm. ‘If I die I’m coming back to haunt your arse.’

  ‘I should be so lucky.’

  Someone had come up and lit torches along the wall. The sun had finally fallen below the mountains. It had been the longest sunset since they’d arrived at Black Claw. The Kyzantines in the distance had set up camp and lit their own fires. The smell of lamb cooking wafted along on the breeze.

  ‘How many dead and wounded Byrn?’ asked Pollux.

  ‘Too many, on rough count I would say a third if not more of our forces.’

  ‘Can we hold the walls with that number?’

  ‘We lost nearly all of the defenders on the right. If I order the Fists to cover the wall, if the door goes again there will be too few there to stop them getting through,’ replied Octans.

  ‘Ara? How are you two holding out?’

  ‘If we sleep all night we will be ready to cast in the morning, but it's exhausting. Don’t rely on us for any set attacks. We will do what we can.’

  ‘Understood. Go, sleep, rest. We will organise things here.’

  ‘You know I hate you.’

  ‘I hate you too darlin’. Sweet dreams.’

  Ara and Daria walked down the stairs before Octans opened his mouth.

  ‘What was that?’

  ‘You didn’t hear? She hates me. I try to make new friends but it just never works out.’

  Octans shook his head. ‘So this plan of yours?’

  ‘We split the Fists, put most of them on the rampart, leave a hundred or so behind the door.
This time we keep them off the bloody wall and pray to the gods that reinforcements come soon.’

  Pollux finally put his head down after scoffing some wood-fired bread two hours before dawn and closed his eyes. Octans had ordered the shift change hours ago so those on the wall got some rest. Everything kept racing through his head, what if this happened, what if that. He needed to stop his brain from ticking over and get some bloody sleep.

  Shouts echoed through the compound.

  This was so not his day.

  ‘Riders!’

  He picked himself up and dusted himself off. He grabbed his scabbard and wrapped his belt around his waist and headed for the source of the commotion. Byrn came running over, eager to see what was going on — where the old man got the energy from left Pollux wondering. Octans was waiting for them with the messenger, the look in his eyes hinted at the levels of his caffeine consumption.

  ‘Riders are coming up into the pass from the Kingdom.’

  ‘How many? Is it our reinforcements?’ asked Byrn.

  ‘Three,’ replied Octans.

  ‘That’s of no use,’ Byrn muttered.

  ‘Do you forget that it was three of us who held the gate?’ asked Pollux.

  ‘I meant no offence, I just thought there would be more.’

  ‘Perhaps they have tidings.’

  Dawn was perhaps an hour away when the three rode up the pass and into the camp. The central rider wore a chest plate with the insignia of the wolf. The other two wore hardened leather.

  ‘I am Cygnus Dunn, son of the Earl of Gravid’s Drift. I wish to speak to whoever is in charge here.’

  Pollux cleared his throat. ‘My name is General Pollux Fallon of the Buckthorne forces. This is Byrn Emery, Master of Arms and Captain Octans Werth of the Fists. Your timing could not have been better Cygnus.’

  ‘Did Baron Scythe not come personally? And where is Hydrus?’

  ‘Yes, the baron came and he fell in battle yesterday afternoon. Hydrus is fighting at the Gorgon Pass where we learned that the Kyzantines were also attacking.’