Paladin's Fall: Kingdom's Forge Book 2 Page 8

  “Thank you, sir,” Briel said. Dain didn’t miss the sir instead of Baron, and smiled.

  Overhead, a golden elf leaned out from the tower. He flailed his arms and shouted for attention.

  “TO ARMS, TO ARMS!”

  Regan and his guards started to move. Their hands fell to their sword hilts, clearly suspecting some sort of trap. They glared at their hosts and snapped into a defensive square.

  “Hold steel. Regan, hold steel!” Dain commanded. The last thing they needed was for a misunderstanding to end in bloodshed.

  Briel too tried to control his men; they seemed split on whether to fight their guests or protect them. They drew their own weapons and closed ranks around Dain’s group.

  “ORCS. Well over a hundred,” the Golden soldier cried from above. Elf and man alike immediately shifted attention to the river in the distance. “Some are mounted. They are swimming their horses across now, Commander.”

  “Not much warning,” Dain said.

  Briel didn’t look surprised. “Across the river there’s a narrow canyon. From here you can’t see its mouth, but it slopes up into the mountains and there’s a trail up into the peaks. Makes a perfect staging area.” He cupped his hand and looked up. “How many can you see now, soldier?”

  “Three hundred at least, Commander, and more behind,” the elf above answered, his voice drawn tight. Briel cursed.

  War horns sounded in the distance, and then the first orc raced into view. He leaned down over his horse’s neck, a curved black sword held low. Water flew from the horse’s flanks, nostrils flaring with every stride. Seconds behind him were another ten riders, all racing their horses toward the tower.

  Faced with a threat they’d long trained for, the golden elves sprang into action. A pair ran south where two horses were picketed. They leaped into the saddles without hesitation, spurred their mounts, and raced toward Mirr. Bowstrings sang from the tower’s top, and the lead orc fell. They sang a second time and two more joined him.

  “We’ve got to ride,” Regan said, eyes flashing to Jin at Dain’s side and then back to Dain.

  “How?” Dain said. “Our horses are tired after this morning’s journey. They’ll run us down if we try. Turn loose your mounts and we’ll take shelter inside.”

  More bowstrings snapped above as they freed the horses. Dain slapped Socks on the rump and the gelding raced off after the two elven messengers. Socks could take care of himself if need be.

  Briel led them into the tower’s ground floor and with a thick wooden beam he sealed the heavy door behind them. The elf commander then disappeared up the stairs after most of his men.

  “Regan, stay here and keep everyone calm,” Dain said. “Help in any way you can. You might start by piling up anything loose against the door. I’ll get a handle on our situation. Jin and Neive, please stay with him.” Jin opened her mouth as if to protest, but then closed it again and nodded. Dain turned and followed Briel up into the tower’s innards.

  The commander stood at the fourth level, looking out an arched window with a glass.

  The situation was precarious at best—both because of the surprise assault from the orcs and any lingering misunderstandings between his own party and the Golden—so Dain waited patiently as Briel shouted orders to his men. Briel moved beside one of the ballistae, pointing and gesturing. He turned for a moment and noticed Dain then.

  “Have a look, sir,” Briel said, holding out the looking glass. The man’s face was flushed as he motioned Dain forward. “I must say, your timing is impeccable. This is more than a simple raid.”

  Outside, hundreds of orcs marched in columns from the riverbank, and hundreds more were still crossing the Wessen in crude boats or simple rafts of lashed-together pines. The mounted invaders were nowhere in sight.

  “The mounted ones?” Dain asked, scanning what he could see of the horizon.

  “Chasing after our messengers; maybe a dozen in total. They’ve learned what the messengers mean,” Briel said. “The archers picked off several, but there’s a reason we send two riders.”

  “They have siege equipment,” Dain said. He pointed to a raft with poles and a thick, steel-capped log aboard. A set of crude wooden wheels floated on another raft. “Any chance you can hit that from here with a ballista?”

  “No, the river’s about fifty yards outside of our range,” Briel said without turning. “A mage might get a spell out—a shot of lightning or a fireball—that far. Are there any in your group?”

  “None among our people,” Dain said. “What about Kray? He was bragging about spells some. We are all at your disposal, Commander.”

  “I appreciate that. It looks like we’ll be needing all the help we can get,” Briel said. “Send him up here and we’ll see if he can cast anything useful.”

  Dain returned to find Kray in the tower’s lowest level.

  “Kray, report to Commander Briel at the top immediately. The orcs have siege equipment and he wants you to try and destroy it.”

  “Try? I’ll destroy their entire army.” Kray quirked his upper lip into a slight sneer and turned to the stairs.

  “Jin, come up and look the situation over when everything’s settled here, will you?” Dain said when he saw Jin approaching. “Leave Regan here to keep control of his men.” She gave him a nod and headed toward Regan’s men gathered at the tower’s main entrance.

  Dain climbed the tower again, slightly winded now, and watched the scrambling orcs below. Kray stood nearby, staring out of the tower with his hands spread apart. He hurled a blast of lightning toward the invaders, killing several, but the bolt fell short of the siege equipment. Sweat beading on his brow, he continued to cast. Each crackling, white-hot bolt came closer, but none did any lasting damage. At last he collapsed with his back to the window.

  “I’m sorry,” he panted. “My training isn’t even half complete. If it were—”

  “You’ve done well,” Dain said. “Thank you for trying. You need to recover now. They’ll move them closer before they strike. You’ll get a chance then.”

  Dain glanced at the high sun and turned to Briel. The golden elf was using his glass to study the siege equipment. “Will they wait for nightfall?”

  “Most likely.”

  “How long until the messengers get through?”

  “They’ll reach Mirr just after dusk. This tower is the nearest to Mirr, which gives us an advantage, and there’s a small stable midway where we keep a few horses. They can swap for fresh mounts there and push hard the rest of the way.”

  So twilight before they learn in Mirr and then hours more to get back here with reinforcements. And that’s if they send help at all. Doubtless some of the Golden would prefer if he and Jin conveniently disappeared. Alpere had admitted as much. How could he get Jin and himself out of this? What had he been thinking coming here?

  No. He couldn’t allow himself to dwell on it too much. Gashan and Alpere are honorable. They will send help.

  The orcs were experienced, Dain saw, and they seemed to know the defenders’ capabilities. They stayed just beyond ballista range, using wooden mallets and pegs to assemble the poles and wheels into a pair of siege rams.

  “They’ve been planning this for some time,” Dain said.

  “What? Orcs don’t plan,” Kray said from his place against the wall. “They are simple-minded brutes.”

  “Baron Gladstone is right,” Briel said. “Look how fast they’ve gotten the rams together. And notice how they set up just out of ballista range. I’ve been a fool. Those other attempts were just to feel us out. Learn our weaknesses. We should have been watching them closer.”

  “Well, there are over a dozen extra defenders below. They can’t have planned for that,” Dain said. He turned to the sound of scuffling from behind him just as Jin climbed through
the opening in the floor.

  “How bad is it?” she asked, joining them by the window.

  She’s fought orcs before on patrol, Dain thought, but this is different. This wasn’t some raid of a few orcs looking for a caravan to plunder. This was a siege. Either they held the tower and survived or lost it and died. He could see no point in lying.

  “Very,” Dain answered. He motioned to the open window and Jin stepped closer to peer out.

  “By the Light,” Jin whispered, “there must be close to a thousand.”

  “They need to crack us open quickly, before help arrives,” Briel said.

  “There’s room for a few more archers up here, Jin. Tell Regan to send his best two bowmen,” Dain said.

  “What about the rangers?” Jin asked. “They’ll be better shots.”

  “They won’t need to be good shots from up here. Put them on the platform above the horse stalls. Pull a few extra quivers from Briel’s stores. They can cover the door,” Dain said. “Then get yourself and Neive to the second floor. Kray too if he can heal.” Dain nodded to the exhausted elf. “Help with the water and oil, and save your strength.

  “Briel, by your leave, I’ll take command of the defenses on the first floor. Do you have any armor that will fit me?”

  “There are a few sets on the third floor that might be your size. Check the shelves near the back.”

  “I will leave you to your work, then. Good luck.”

  “And to you, sir.”

  Dain scrounged up a mismatched set of plate and mail that barely squeezed over his shoulders. He took a spare short sword from a rack and hung it around his waist. His own weapons were below, but if the orcs broke into the tower his longer sword could prove unwieldy.

  He found Jin again on the second floor.

  “There’s some smaller armor up there as well. Get some that will fit you and keep it nearby.”

  “I will,” she said, eyes full of both worry and determination.

  “Protect the ambassador at all costs,” he said. Dain gave her a thin half-smile, which she returned. He reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. “If we get out of this alive, we’ll leave this part out when we tell your mother.”

  Dain joined the men on the first floor. The ballista thumped and rattled from overhead, and he knew a ram had started forward. It won’t be long now. Dawn and help were still hours away.

  “Help me up,” he said to Hexen, one of his Paladins. He wished he’d brought Perthe along as well; three Paladins would have made a formidable defense, but he’d stayed behind with the others in Mirr. Dain put a hand on Hexen’s shoulder and climbed on top of the blacksmith’s anvil. He looked out at the tower’s defenders—golden elf, human, and wood elf alike. He met the eyes of each.

  “Men, this is a simple fight. If we want to live, we have to hold this room. Our lives, and the lives of our companions upstairs, be they elven or human, depend on us holding this room. The orcs have a pair of rams assembled, and our ballistae are trying to stop them now.”

  A ballista fired again as he spoke.

  “We will put everything we have against the door to fortify it. But by ram or axe or sword, eventually they will bring this door down. Don’t doubt it. Prepare yourselves for it. The door isn’t wide though and, after they get it down, we will fight in twos, rotating out four times an hour. If you get wounded or tired before that, call out and someone will replace you. There is no dishonor in asking for help.

  “The archers there,” Dain gestured to the two rangers kneeling above the horse stalls, each with a stack of quivers gathered around and bows ready, “will cover us. They’ll be firing just above our heads, thinning out our opponents, and I assure you they are both quite good shots. They won’t miss. Luck to us all.”

  While the men barricaded the door, Dain returned to the fourth floor and found Briel. His chest heaved as he cleared the last step, and he wondered how he’d gotten so out of shape.

  Too much riding and not enough running.

  The ballistae both sat quiet, and everyone, including the tower commander, was using a bow. A few lucky orcs had gotten their crude black arrows though the tower windows, but so far all seemed to have landed harmlessly. One clattered to the floor and rattled to a stop near Dain’s boots. Steaming water gurgled into the pot from the kitchen below.

  “Out of bolts?” Dain asked.

  “No. We hit both rams and shattered them, but they’ve cobbled one together with parts from each. It’s close enough that we can’t get a clear shot on it now, so the archers are aiming for the orcs driving it forward.”

  “You’ve tried fire?”

  “The arrows went out as soon as they struck,” Briel said. “They must have soaked the wood.”

  “And Kray?”

  “He threw spells until he exhausted himself. Managed to knock a wheel off, but they repaired it soon enough.”

  Dain looked out and watched the ram’s steady grind. Legs and backs straining, a handful of orcs drove it forward. Fewer than thirty yards remained between it and the door. A steady shower of arrows rained down on the orcs, but as one fell another took its place.

  Can’t fault their courage, Dain thought.

  Movement to the orc army’s rear drew his eye. A group of cloaked riders waited there. As he watched, they skirted around the orcs and started their horses toward Mirr.

  “What do you make of that?”

  “I don’t know. They rode in half an hour ago and just stood there waiting,” Briel said.

  “More mounted orcs? Scouts, perhaps.”

  “I don’t think so. They don’t ride like orcs, all hunched over and rough in the saddle. Allies of some sort? But that doesn’t make any sense. Orcs don’t get along with anyone.”

  “I’ll be below with the others,” Dain said. “Don’t use the oil or water once they break through the door or our own men will catch it instead.”

  “Right,” Briel said. “I’ll come join you after they break in. Close the hatch on the way out. It’s hot enough up here, and that’ll keep the heat from the kitchen trapped below.”

  Dain returned to the bottom floor to wait for his enemies. He passed Jin and Neive on the way; both were helping a golden elf feed the stove to keep the boiling water flowing. Steam billowed from the stove up along the ceiling in thick, rolling clouds, and Jin’s hair was plastered to her face in wet streaks.

  He’d just arrived at the bottom when the first crash rattled the door’s hinges. In his youth he’d always been excited before battle; not looking forward to it, necessarily, but anxious and ready to begin. He knew better now. Battles and war were mostly just waiting, anticipation. Now I just feel tired.

  Already he felt like he’d climbed the tower’s hard steps a hundred times. His knees and the soles of his feet ached for it. Whatever happened down here, he resolved not to climb them again.

  He moved up into place at the door’s front with Hexen. An overeager golden elf gave him a look, and Dain heard him whisper, “old dog.”

  “You’ll get your turn, young pup,” he laughed. “Let this old dog show you some tricks. Then I’ll go take a nap in the corner.”

  Their nerves momentarily forgotten, the group snickered.

  “Tense?” Dain asked Hexen.

  “Just ready,” Hexen grunted.

  “Do not hesitate. Above all else, do not hesitate.”

  Hexen nodded, his hair flowing out below his helm like a lion’s mane. The golden-haired man was one of the first ex-miners who’d asked to be trained in the Light. He and his father had both fought at the hilltop battle and later at Teran years ago. Hexen’s father hadn’t survived, and Dain had taken in the young man and taught him as best he could.

  Outside, Dain heard the wet crash of water followed by the howling shrieks of se
veral orcs. For long minutes, the pounding on the door stopped, followed by complete silence. Then, like a drum, the ram began to beat again. A narrow section of the door fractured and bowed inward in a long, jagged crack. With each drumbeat the crack widened.

  A second pot of water fell and the orcs screamed again. Another pause, and then another crash at the door. The crack fractured wider still and torchlight leaked in from outside.

  The orcs started grunting and hollering, eager to take their prize. A section of wood as thick as a man’s arm broke free. Dain could smell them through the ragged hole.

  “Charge your weapon and strike with me,” he told Hexen. Dain drew the molten Light into himself. His sword crackled with it, taking on a yellow glow along its edge.

  Dain raised his sword and Hexen followed suit. He brought it down, and together their weapons shattered the weakened door, exploding it outward into a thousand lethal stakes that dropped the first row of orcs.

  Dain smiled, pleased with the shocked expressions on the orcs’ wide, green faces. He roared a challenge and waded forward, his sword striking among them.

  His still-charged weapon caught the nearest orc between the tusks and threw the beast crashing back through his fellows. The guards behind Dain cheered. Then the orcs took up the challenge. They threw themselves at the two Paladins in groups of threes and fours. Swords ready, Dain and Hexen met their clubs and axes again and again.

  Dain started to tire. His reactions, along with his sword, slowed under the relentless pressure. He hadn’t fought in heavy armor in years, but the plate had already saved him from at least three serious wounds.

  “Time!” Regan roared behind him.

  Hexen finished off his opponent and was replaced by a golden elf. Dain charged his weapon again, limbs shaking with it, and knocked the orc he was fighting back into the crowd, clearing some space before Regan stepped into his spot.