Brave Men Die: Part 2 Read online

  ‘I don’t know yet, but I’m sure something will come to me by the time I get down there.’

  Ara dismounted and raced into the fray, leaving Daria alone to watch over the battle. Her robes whipped behind her as she slid in amongst the troops, wriggling her way to the front of the line. She was battered by armour plates and swinging elbows as the men of the Kingdom raised their shields as the arrows peppered the back of the Murukan unit. Ara couldn’t remember seeing Kyzantine archers from her position a moment ago.

  Inch by inch she made her way through the Fists, searching for Pollux. Ara knew he was at the front of this mess and from his side she would cast and divide the two armies. Pollux didn’t flinch as she put her hand on his shoulder, just accepted her presence and put his shield forward to defend her. Ara moved her head closer to his.

  ‘I’ve got a better diversion Pollux. I just need a moment to prepare,’ Ara screamed into his ear.

  ‘Make it quick,’ he snapped between gritted teeth, blocking a flurry of blows.

  Ara brought her arms up and spoke an incantation. Those Murukans around her moved paces away as fires formed in the palms of her hands. Her eyes went dark, her robes blew around her body. The flames were massive when she finished casting and Ara directed them at the ground. Flames surged along the ground in between the two forces causing both sides to jump back from the heat. The fire wall stretched up both sides of the pass.

  Pollux stepped behind Ara as the rest of the Fists started running. Sweat dripped down his brow even as Ara absorbed most of the heat and flames. Slowly the orbs of flame diminished in her hands and her focus returned to the battlefront.

  ‘It won’t last long so we should hurry,’ her voiced rasped.

  ‘You heard her,’ Pollux screamed at the remaining soldiers watching the flames lick into the sky. ‘Fall back to the gate now, full speed.’

  He sheathed his weapon and grabbed Ara by the shoulders pushing her to her waiting mount and assisted her up.

  ‘Good job, now go,’ he said smacking the horse’s rump. ‘Daria get her there safely,’ he added to the older mage who had ridden to the front when Ara begun casting.

  Pollux turned to see Octans running toward him.

  ‘Good to see you made it out of that.’

  ‘We’re not done yet. We still have to run back to the gate before the fire dies and the cavalry run us down.’

  ‘Too easy,’ Octans said a big smile on his face as he started jogging beside his friend.

  Pyxis watched the flames sail high up the mountainsides. There was no getting through. They would have to lay siege to Black Claw. She looked over her troops who had fled from the mage’s spell. The infantry had run halfway back into Cerebus Valley, her knights had more restraint and had stopped somewhere in the middle between the flames and the cowards. She shook her head in disappointment.

  Cunx was milling metres away, gauging the general’s anger. Most of the bodies were those of the Kingdom, in fact they had lost very little except for the flank of the infantry. He sucked in a breath and rode over.

  ‘General.’

  ‘How bad is it? Really?’

  ‘It could be worse.’

  Pyxis looked at him blankly.

  ‘We could have ended up like that guy,’ Cunx indicated, pointing to a dead Kyzantine with a spear jammed in one butt cheek.

  Pyxis acknowledged, ‘I see your point.’

  ‘How long before they are reinforced?’

  ‘At least a couple of days. So we have time to make them wait.’

  ‘We will have fresh troops by then too, Ballis was less than a day away.’

  ‘See that the wounded are tended to, burn the dead, and make sure everyone rests. We shall take Black Claw Gate in the morning.’

  The Kyzantine camp appeared chaotic but was ordered and prepared. A trench was dug around the encampment of sleeping men, sharpened poles dug into the breast work and sentries posted at intervals around the camp. The royal Kyzantine banner was raised at the top of a pole in the middle of the men, and the general’s personal standard flew alongside it.

  The silence was stirred as a messenger raced through the encampment in Cerebus Valley yelling for the general. The posted sentries allowed him to pass as he dodged through the sleeping masses.

  ‘Over here,’ Cunx’s voice boomed, startling those closest to him.

  Pyxis rubbed her eyes and lifted her head from the saddle.

  ‘What is it soldier?’

  ‘The attack at Gorgon has failed. The Empire was slaughtered. You are needed to take it.

  Her hand went to her forehead and rubbed the side of her face. This was not going well.

  ‘Why me, surely there are other capable commanders in the vicinity?’ Pyxis wearily questioned.

  ‘The Emperor wants a cavalry commander there. He has also ordered the other generals to the Musea Pass to aid your sisters. The Murukan outpost there has already been taken. They expect resistance from Gravid’s Drift but feel that is where most of the military is needed right now to ensure a firm staging post.’

  ‘Every tactical mind is going to the Musea Pass? That’s something to avoid. Can you imagine them agreeing on anything?’ Pyxis asked Cunx.

  Cunx shook his head in reply and rolled his eyes.

  ‘Those generals not marshalling at the pass are being kept in the Empire to train the new conscripts. Within two months the first batch of fresh reinforcements will be headed to the mountains.’

  ‘And what of my older sisters?’

  ‘They march with your father’s standing army of Dagenham. The rest of the Empire marshals at Skyview awaiting orders to march into the Murukan Kingdom.’

  ‘How long before they reach the Musea Pass?’

  ‘Inside the space of two weeks, all going according to plan. With over one hundred thousand soldiers too.’

  ‘What about reinforcements for here?’

  ‘Two units will arrive in the morning led by Ballis, they are camped three hours march from Iron Talon Gate. There is another unit two days away.’

  Pyxis sat up and looked in the direction of Black Claw. The embers still glowed red and gave off an unnatural heat under the dark night sky.

  ‘Fine. The cavalry will ride to the Gorgon Pass at daybreak. The infantry will wait until the reinforcements get here and will retake Black Claw. Ballis is a capable commander and a siege specialist. I have no doubt that he will continue to keep the pressure on.’ She said it more to reassure herself than anyone else.

  Putting her head back on her saddle, she closed her eyes and said to Cunx, ‘Wake me just before dawn.’

  The Kyzantines made them wait until midday before the attack came. The baron had posted the Sentinels along the wall, the remnants of the Fangs and Fists assembled on the ground below the wall, ready to assist.

  The summer sun beat down from directly overhead, scorching the tin soldiers. Some wavered under the temperature, their knees buckling before their hands shot out and gripped the stone before them.

  Octans could do nothing but stare at the men on the rampart as the marching army came up the pass and thundered toward Black Claw. He rubbed the back of his calf with the toes of his other boot. He rolled his neck from side to side to work out the anxious tension as the beating drums got louder and louder. Octans watched as the archers on the wall took arrows from their quivers, nocked the shaft, pulled their arms back, and waited for the order to fire.

  A flag dropped from the tower top and the payload was let loose. Octans watched as they flew into the sky, then fell onto the massed troops. He listened to the screams of the dying and the battle cries as they were ordered to charge. He waited, waited for an eternity as the archers fired and the enemy closed the distance. He waited for the sounds of the ladders hitting stone, of the battering ram smashing against the gate. Octans closed his eyes, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

  ‘Breach!’

  Octans’ eyes opened and saw the first of the Kyzantines to have cl
imbed up a ladder and jump onto the wall, slaying the archers in front of him. Other Kyzantines followed and soon the archers were fighting for their lives on the wall.

  Octans took off, raced to the stairs that led to the rampart, assuming that someone else was following. He didn’t dare look back, didn’t take his eyes off his target. He pounded up the stairs, armour jingling, scabbard bouncing, thighs pumping. Octans bounded past the first of the archers, bringing his sword back over his shoulder. The Murukan engaged in combat went down with a blade to his abdomen, dropped as Octans brought his blade around and cleaved the enemy’s head from his shoulders. Blood clung to his two day stubble as he launched himself at the others.

  Ara and Daria were stationed on the tower, in prime position to oversee the battlefield and away from the close quarter fighting on the walls. Ara clenched her fist and fired spell after spell into the waiting masses below. Fire, ice, and lightning spells rained down as the combination of attacks slowly whittled down the Kyzantine troops.

  Ara glanced at Daria when the next barrage of arrow fire came at them, and her purple shield flashed into life just in time and the arrows bounced harmlessly off. Ara reluctantly kept her stronger spell casting to a minimum, she still didn’t feel comfortable exposing the full extent of her power in front of her old tutor. Daria wouldn’t care, she had told herself that many times, but the thought often crept into her head of what if she did.

  Looking at her companion, Ara could see that she was getting tired, sweat dribbling down her brow as she maintained the shield and cast offensively when she was able.

  All paranoias put to the side, Ara couldn’t hold off any longer and started upping the power of her spells. Her Lava Orbs burst from her hands and sailed over the tops of the infantry and landed amongst the archers. The flames tore the unit apart, some flailing around as they burnt to death, others fleeing. Fists closed, beams of purple energy pounded into the infantry ranks below the walls. Initially they started off the size of her hands, but as Ara got into the rhythm of things the energy expanded in size and the victims grew in number.

  Ara could sense Daria shift uncomfortably, her gaze focused on her back as she studied her former student. There was nothing that could be done about it, Ara kept casting and obliterating the enemy as Daria shifted her focus to defending the walls.

  The battle raged along the rampart. Ladders bounced onto the tops of the walls, soldiers of the Empire climbed over and attacked. The Kyzantines had breached the defence in multiple locations and the only archers that remained firing were on the tower top. With Kryst before him and a couple of others behind, Pollux took the stairs three at a time to get to the scene of heaviest fighting.

  Kryst barrelled into the first Kyzantine, pushing the woman over the wall and onto her waiting companions below. Pollux swung low slicing through a soldier’s legs and the body fell to the ground. The captain continued forward, treading over the fallen and smashed into the next body with the edge of his shield.

  Pollux followed, surging through the wake created by the captain and thrust into those bumped aside. His men followed, maintaining the momentum. As they gained inch by inch of the rampart, more and more Murukans climbed the stairs and repelled the attackers.

  Pollux fought his way further along the rampart to the edge of the wall, covering the captain. Kryst pushed at a ladder propped against it, straining under the weight of not only the siege ladder itself but of the five soldiers on it. Veins emerged in his straining arms and neck. Pollux turned his back to the captain, defended him from enemy soldiers charging along the wall. He blocked a thrust to his abdomen, turning the blade away before slicing through the man’s neck. A gargled scream rang out behind him as Pollux blocked a second strike on his shield. He ducked and rammed his sword up into the soldier’s jaw and turned briefly to look over his shoulder. Kryst had staggered back, clasping at the arrow shaft in his neck and gasping for air as blood gushed down his neck. Pollux stared in blank amazement as Kryst charged at the Kyzantine coming over the wall on the ladder that he hadn’t been able to dislodge. He collected the man around the waist as he launched himself into the air, his foot caught the top rung of the ladder and took them all down to the ground in a tangle of bodies and wood.

  Pollux screamed in rage and pressed on to the next ladder along the wall. He battered his way through and decapitated the next Kyzantine at the top of the ladder. With blood splattered across his face, he gritted his teeth as he kicked the ladder away from the wall. An arrow sailed into his shoulder.

  ‘Fight!’ he ordered the Murukans around him who had seen Kryst fall.

  Leaving his sword in the chest of one woman, he snapped the shaft in his shoulder and jammed the broken end into the neck of a Kyzantine with his back turned before another Murukan hacked him down. Clutching the hilt of his sword, he ripped it from his victim and ran forward to reclaim the rampart.

  Cronos wiped the blood off his sword and looked over his troops. As the sunlight diminished he could still make out the faces of the men below him, now a lot less than before they had started today. Those that could still stand remained on the wall as the others were patched up the best that they could be and came grudgingly back.

  After a solid four hours of fighting the Kyzantines had retreated back up the pass toward the valley. Sending wave after wave of fresh men against the wall to be slaughtered didn’t seem to be agreeing with their generals. Nowhere near as sneaky as their first attack on Black Claw. They had left their dead lying against the base of the wall, a few Murukans in the mix. They would need to be cleared and burned to keep the diseases away.

  Cronos watched on as a young soldier moved along the wall and told the wounded to get treatment while he remained in their place. The sergeant had made a name for himself, firstly leading men up onto the rampart when the Fists took Black Claw and now with his steadfast authority and his compassion for his men. Cronos had lost the captain of the Fists today and this boy was seemingly his replacement. Byrn had reported that the men followed him to quell the breach on the right wall, obeying him unquestioningly.

  The lad was much like his father when he was younger. Cronos could remember Fallon well; he had served with him and Byrn on countless campaigns. A good man, he had a unique ability to rally the men, was compassionate and never shied from away from duty.

  Cronos scratched his chin. The boy had been given the opportunity to learn more than his father, hadn’t excelled in his studies like his brother, but he was a natural born leader and tactics could be drummed into him. He was the best candidate of all the sergeants in the Fists — one had died, one was wounded and the other rushed head long into battle without any conceivable plan. The Fists wouldn’t accept a man from another unit so Fallon’s boy would be it. He walked from the tower, circling down the internal stairs and out onto the rampart.

  ‘Pollux.’

  ‘Yes baron,’ he replied, snapping to attention.

  Cronos scanned him up and down, noticed the dents in his shield, his battered scabbard and the blood trickling down his arm.

  ‘Have you had that seen to?’ Cronos indicated the blood dribbling down his arm.

  ‘Yes sir, just a scratch.’

  ‘Good, can’t have the new captain of the Fists already incapacitated.’

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘You heard. You and the Fists are also in charge of this side of Black Claw. The Sentinels have the other. I don’t expect there to be any breaches this time when they attack again.’

  ‘No sir, thank you sir.’

  ‘Do whatever you need to see that it is properly defended. Whatever you can find you can use, you just can’t have any more men.’ There were no more men.

  Pollux nodded and Cronos left, walked back to the tower and heard the boy being congratulated.

  ‘Was that wise?’ Byrn asked as the baron reached the tower top.

  Byrn stood with his hands on his hips, looking over the tower’s edge at his one-time charge. Cronos suspected that the old mast
er of arms could only see the little troublemaker he had a hand in raising and not the commanding soldier that stood on the wall before him. Most of Byrn’s grey hair had come from the youngster and his older brother and their antics around Buckthorne. Cronos had kept an eye on the lads in a round about sort of way and knew that both boys were exceptionally talented like their father had been. Cronos smiled reassuringly at Byrn, surmising exactly what young Pollux was capable of.

  ‘Let’s see what the boy has got before we start to judge. He just might surprise you Byrn.’

  Pollux looked along the wall at the stationed troops and thought of those returning from the infirmary when the time came. He needed a better system of defence, they couldn’t rely on the magi or just wait for the walls to be breached. He looked over the buildings of Black Claw’s compound, his mind racing at the instruction to use whatever he wanted.

  He wandered down the stairs to a waiting group of soldiers fresh from the infirmary.

  ‘Ready to go?’ Pollux asked.

  ‘Yes, captain.’

  News travelled quickly. Pollux shrugged, he better get used to it. ‘There were drums of oil around the back of the mess hall. I want oil smothered along the edge of the wall so that the ladders can’t find purchase. I also want one of the barrels attached to a pump and a long hose that can reach all the way along on the right side.’

  Two of the group nodded and ran off. The others waited for their instructions, arms folded across their chests.

  ‘In the barracks there are tower shields lined up along the walls that look like relics from the Border Wars. They will offer much better protection against arrows. And raid the compound and bring any repeater crossbows up to the wall also. We can do this in teams, one man defends, the other fires. Find others to help you bring them up. Go.’

  They ran off in different directions, scattering around the compound recruiting other members of the Fists to help.

  Pollux looked up to the tower, vaguely making out the silhouettes of the baron, master of arms, and the two magi. With all of them watching him, he prayed to the gods that this plan of his would work.