Penumbra - Book 1 (7)

"Alys, go to the turret and ask for the watchman. Tell him to signal the other towers in the Frontier that there is an assault on our position, if he hasn't already. Do you understand?"

She nodded, and Rogan turned hastily to go.

"Then what shall I do?" she called after him and he answered without turning.

"Find a bow!" He scurried down the ladder, and moments after his fingers had uncurled from the lower rung, Alys' foot touched on it and she started to ascend into the tower. She paused at the next level, the armory, where several men where arming themselves, and stepped lightly around them to retrieve her bow and a quiver of arrows. Slinging them about her back, she waited for a few tense moments while the now-armed soldiers descended on the ladder, then continued her journey upward.

The trap-door to the turret was open, but as soon as she popped her head through the entryway she was confronted by a harsh voice: "Who the hell are you? Get out of the way!"

"I've a message for the watchman." she said back firmly.

The owner of the voice, a slightly overweight Frontiersman with a long mustache, grabbed her arm and hauled her roughly through the hatch, placing her roughly on her feet. "I am he," he said, "speak quickly."

"The Captain said to alert the other towers of our position."

The watchman jerked his thumb behind him, toward the mighty signal flame, where four men worked a canvas with agitation, counting out loud to before their movements to keep the pattern steady. "What d'ye think they're doing, asking about the weather? Anything else?"

Alys shook her head rapidly. The watchman noted the weapon and quiver on her back and said reluctantly: "Well, you seem armed, and we're going to need every bow we can get. Find a place to stand and for the Sun's sake stay out of my way!"

The night-facing side of the tower was already lined with bow-wielding Frontiersmen, but she saw a space between two large enough for her to stand comfortably in, stepped into it, and then gasped in shock.

What she was below her, in the darkness, was a sea of flames, floating points of light spread out in the gloom. The closest was less than two hundred feet from the tower, and the torchlights seemed to extend for at least that far again. Yet rather than illuminating the space around them, they seemed to suck light into themselves, blanketing their holders in a cloak of obscurity. Yet even if there was only one Enemy about them per torch, which seemed unlikely, it was clear that they were facing a great number of foes. Alys tried to count the number of torches, but kept losing count as they bobbed and weaved across the ground before them. It was an army. They meant to break the Frontier in half.

A man somewhere to her left whispered what each of them was thinking:

"How shall we ever survive this?"

"Keep it quiet there, you blaggarts!" The watchman yelled from behind them. "Focus on your targets! Do not let fly until you hear my command, and always check that you can see your target clearly! Do not waste a single shot! We are the cream of the army of the realm, we are the pride of the King! Do him proud, do your fellow man proud, and we shall win the day!"

Alys looked at the nervous faces of the men, and knew that they wanted to believe him, but did not. How could they prevail against such numbers? Alys leaned forward over the edge of the turret and saw her father and brother riding out of the entrance to the stables at the base of the tower, their men forming up around them.

Keleth instinctively took charge of the situation, as his rank implied.

"Rogan, how many men have ye?"

Rogan did a quick check about him before responding. "A score here, maybe another two squads on patrol." Keleth took the news grimly, but nodded.

"I have eleven with me, all hardened battlers with experience on the Frontier. We will break away from the main body and circle around south, see if we can't get around them or behind them, and run them down, or at least disrupt their coherency somewhat, see if we can't get them to break. You stay with the tower and form your men into defensive lines. Any man who does not have a horse need to be in that tower either firing a bow or helping to supply a bowman. Soldiers with horses should defend the base of the tower at all costs."

Rogan was a serving Captain with over a year's experience on the line, and his father was giving him military tips that even a wet-behind-the-ears stableboy would know, but it was good to hear his commanding voice, feel his stable presence. He nodded in agreement as his father wheeled his horse about and started to lead his men around the sunward side of the tower. As Rogan watched his father go, he called out to the driver, the leader of the team that kept the oxen pulling continuously. "We need to draw them into the light! Get this tower moving, as fast as you can! Drive those beasts to their death if that is what it takes!" The driver yelled his assent and started shouting commands at his team of oxboys, getting them to whip the oxen with all their might. Oxen are by nature very resilient creatures, and even if you whip one as hard as you can, it is unlikely he will simply spring into action for you he way a horse or dog might. All the same the oxen did slowly increased their pace from a gentle walk to a brisk trot, and the tower creaked and then rocked forward on it's wheel, increasing speed and slowly, ever so slowly, drawing away from the umbra.

Rogan looked about him, first at his men, then at the sea of torches gathered in front of the tower, slowly marching forward, and considered his options. Cavalry were very good at charging, but not great at defense. If simply killing the most enemy were his goal, his wisest choice would be to charge the enemy and try to run as many of them down as possible. To say nothing of the fact that, against such numbers, a charge of that nature would be a ride from which no horse or rider would return, it would also leave the tower undefended to ground attack, and the defense of the tower was the Captain's primary responsibility. But then he also had to consider his father- his feint would only work if they enemy was distracted. If a dozen men simply attacked them from the side or behind and they were not otherwise engaged, the Enemy force would simply turn and annihilate them- only if they Enemy were already in combat did Keleth's gambit have a chance of success, and even then it seemed a slim one. In his own way, Keleth had already made Rogan's decision for him- he must attack.

"Bellaron!" he called to his lieutenant, his friend and second. "Have the messengers been sent?"

"Yes Captain." Bellaron answered sharply, no sign of the nervousness evident in the faces of many other Frontiersmen.

The messengers were four young horsemen, usually soldiers in training, who kept close tabs on the position of all foragers, shepherds, horse wranglers and other non-military personell who lived near the Frontier but did not live in or about the tower itself. Their job in times of emergency was simply to spread the word of attack, to make sure that all non-essentials packed up whatever it was they were doing and started moving sunward, away from the scene of battle, and to let any patrols or mercenaries know that their assistance was needed.

"Has the second squad returned yet?"

Bellaron gestured towards a squad of six riders, coming toward the tower along the edge of the Frontier at pace. "They'll be here any moment, Captain."

"Alright, form up!" Rogan yelled at his men, who hastily straightened out the two lines of horses they had assembled as per regular drills for mor or less precisely this situation. "We'll wait until they get in bow range before we attack. Wait for the first volley before we begin the charge, that should soften up the first wave, and hopefully the tower will get in another one before we cover the distance, Jeltaz are you hearing all this?" he shouted up to the top of the tower, where behind Alys the portly watchman yelled back down: "Yes, my Captain! You'll have two volleys before you engage."

"We'd better." Rogan said, more to himself than his men. He wheeled his steed about and turned to face the enemy, who were now just at the edge of the light caused by the topflame of the tower, just over a hundred feet away. "I know you feel fear, men," Rogan said, feeling it himself. "Just remember that..." before Rogan could finish his sentence, a strange mechanical noise sounded in the darkness beyond the sea of torches, followed by an almighty thud. From out of the night, an enormous stone boulder came flying through the crisp night sky. Rogan's eye widened and his jaw went slack as the mighty hunk of rock went tumbling soundlessly through the air.

In the tower, Alys and the other bowmen ducked instinctively as the missile came roaring overhead, but fortunately it missed the tower completely, soaring over them and into the oxen on the far side of the tower, landing on one of them with a sickening crunch and a spray of blood, bouncing and then rolling onto a screaming other, trapping its hind legs beneath the enormous stone.

"Hell's breath." Jeltaz cursed. "What could have done that? Nock arrows! Nock them arrows, you laggards!"

As one with her fellow bowmen, Alys notched an arrow, pulled back on the bowstring until the fletch reached the anchor point, felt the tension of the wood straining against her arms, closed one eye and looked out over the field of battle before her with the other. The first of the Enemy had now stepped into the light, a ghostly forest of pale arms, glinting armour, and deep, black eyes. Alys picked out a target approximate to her own position in the line of archers, and pointed slightly upward to account for the arc of fire. She had never fired a bow from such a high position before, but she felt confident she could predict the fall of the arrow.

"Mark your targets..." Jeltaz said gently, then loudly: "...and fire!"

Each archer simultaneously let fly, a wave of arrows coursing across the sky with a high pitched whistle, collapsing the first line of the Enemy with a screech. From below, Alys could hear Rogan's cry of "Charge!" as he saw the first wave of arrows hit. With the mighty thunder of two-dozen heavy horse launching forward, she saw the cavalry of the tower storm across the field towards the Enemy, already stepping over the bodies of their fallen compatriots, some crouching over to drag the wounded to safety.

Jeltaz wasted no time: "Nock again, nock again! I want another volley before the cavalry hits the front line. Come on!"

Alys drew another arrow and quickly notched another arrow on her bow, as all the while Rogan's horsemen got closer and closer. If they reached the Enemy before they could release another volley, it would be too dangerous to fire again, in case they hit their own troops.

"Bows ready...and fire!"

Moments before Rogan's men hit the Enemy force head on, a wave of arrows overflew their heads, embedding themselves in chests, skulls, eye-sockets, arms. Even as the Enemy reacted to this onslaught, the cavalry hit them, hoof and spear impacting with shield and bone. But the Enemy was like molasses, moments after Rogan's men hit the mass of skeletal warriors, they were bogged down amongst the numbers. Rogan dropped his spear, drawing his sword in the same motion, and brought it down on the head of the nearest Enemy warrior, shattering his skull-like visage with a single blow. He hacked and hacked about him, wherever he swung his sword an enemy warrior was there to meet it, but they were too numerous by far, and they began to break through the line of horsemen, surrounding them, swamping them. Rogan knew that it would only be a matter of moments before their horses were bought down, and the riders would soon follow. Out of the corner of his eye, as he slashed at another pale face, he saw Bellaron's horse stumbled forward, stabbed between the ribs by a gleaming, serrated blade. Bellaron pitched head forward into the mass of the Enemy, his body grabbed and hacked at by a multitude of bony fingers.

Where in hell's name was his father?

In the tower, Alys and the other archers had renocked their bows and waited for a clear target amongst the chaos of the melee at the edge of the topflame's light. Jeltaz paced behind them, barking orders:

"If a single one of those bony beasts gets starts to make a break for the tower, you call for him and take him down! But if you accidentally hit one of our own men, I swear to Helios I'll throw you off this tower myself. There's one, call him out!"

True to Jeltaz' word, a single Enemy warrior had broken past the line of cavalry and started to make the hundred-foot dash across the plain to the tower.

"Mine!" three of the archers called out simultaneously, and a moment later the creature was felled by multiple arrows.

"One at a time, you rubes!" Jeltaz said, his obvious pleasure at the kill evident in his voice. "Conserve your ammo."

More archers started to shout "Mine!" as more and more Enemy warriors began to break through the line of battle and run towards the tower. Each was felled. Alys saw one run past her brother and start to sprint across the distance towards the tower. She shouted out: "Mine!" took aim, and let fly. The arrow impaled itself into the Enemy's neck, and it fell, rolling and rolling again with the momentum of his last, choking steps. Alys quickly nocked another arrow, but had to wait before she could mark another target. Every enemy who broke free from the line seemed to be taken down a few moments later. Alys began to hope- perhaps the battle could yet be won, she thought to herself.

As she did so, she again heard the strange mechanical noise, followed by the deep subsonic thud that followed it previously.

"Ah, hell." Jeltaz said, as from out of the darkness above the melee, another enormous boulder flew silently towards them. It struck the left of the tower, somewhere towards the middle, and the side of the tower shattered like so many piled twigs left on the beach, practically breaking it in half. The turret suddenly dropped to an almost vertical angle, and half of the archers plunged from the tower to their doom, falling along with the flying timber. Alys managed to catch a crenelation and hold onto it for dear life as the turret now hung limply from the one remaining wall of the watchtower. The topflame was not so nimble, and the logs and stones and pitch that kept it burning sprayed downward amongst the rubble of the tower, pouring still-burning material onto the timber and men of the tower alike. Those that survived the fall were soon screaming in agony as the fire rained down on them.

Alys, still clinging to the turret as she watched the tower below her burst into flame, gasped in disbelief as her eyes took in the disaster. The wheels of the tower were burning, covered in wood. The oxen that were not on fire or now running free across the plain away from the towering inferno, struggled pointlessly, trying to pull the crumbling edifice.

The tower was going to collapse. The Frontier was broken.