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Chapter Twenty-One

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The Hygerians learned only very slowly how to deal with walled cities. From the outside, they tended to continue to send men against the walls until the defenders were too few to hold them. On the inside, they usually left them to be held by a very few men, preferring to set their armies outside, and crush their enemies in open battle.

-The Hygerian War

Randell of Avantir

In the morning, they found that a section of the wall had fallen about the width of a small door. While the army was taking its places, the great catapult continued to cast its missiles. Even as they watched, another giant piece, about five feet in width, fell away, and more rock tumbled down before the engine was prepared to cast its next stone. By the time the host was assembled and orders passed, there was a gap of about twenty feet in the wall, with the remains of the wall standing no higher than four feet at the highest.

Rorick looked at the host and grinned. It was still rather a tatterdemalion force, and the bulk of the arms and armour were captured from the Hygerians. There were more of them now, but they still presented the look of a chance-gathered mob. There were even some who had no armour at all and were armed only with a bundle of light throwing spears and a dirk. But they, too, would find a part to play.

Rorick strolled over to join Conel where he was steading with the two hundred men chosen to follow him. Three light catapults were being moved into position so that they could shoot over the heads of the attackers. Rorick spoke:

“Walls crack and crumble; see the white dust rise!

And now the Dragon of Asbaln flies!”

Conel answered:

“Behold, the war-host’s trumpet calls;

Forward, then, through the broken walls!”

Rorick withdrew. He cast a quick eye over Conel’s two hundred men. They were, for the most part, young men, fierce and eager, and he felt a sadness for which he could not find a reason. Beran spoke suddenly at his elbow. “They are young, and the fire burns fiercely; and of them who will remain to tell to his grandchildren of this day?”

Conel drew his sword, and a trumpet sounded. The three catapults fired, one at a time. They were not so difficult to reload as the large one which had battered down the wall, so they fired quickly, and one was always ready to fire. A hundred archers moved in formation behind Conel’s men, and as they drew within range, they began to loose their arrows.

Even with this support, Conel’s detachment lost several men to arrows and javelins from the wall, and as they clambered over the rubble in the breach, more arrows and javelins came from behind it. Then the last of them were over the breach and into the city. Clearly, the Hygerians could not mount an effective opposition behind the breach, but from the noise within, the battle was going harder.

Rorick gave a signal to Artir, who took five hundred men forward with twenty ladders. They did not catch the Hygerians completely by surprise, for by the time the ladders were going up against the walls, the numbers of people visible above had doubled. The Icarians who had supported Conel’s charge were now supporting Artir, and the result was at least a minor foothold on the wall.

Rorick watched as, for what seemed a terrible length of time, the battle hung in the balance. The small foothold on the wall remained small, there being room for only limited numbers, and the Hygerians were attacking them with fierce determination. It was no longer possible to make any guesses at the state of the battle within, where Conel sought the gates, but Rorick was ready for either of two choices.

He looked at Beran, who was watching Artir’s men on the wall with a deep frown of concentration, as though by willing it he could cause them to clear the wall of defenders. “In a moment, we must move. Artir is making no headway, though he is drawing them off as we had planned. Either Conel will open the gate, and we will go in by that way, or we will enter by the breach to rescue Conel.”

Even as he spoke these last words, the gates moved.

Drawing the Sword, he searched for those to follow him. “For the King!”

He led them at a run toward the gates.

As they swept into the city, Conel met them. His right arm was gashed from wrist to elbow, and he was lightly wounded on the right thigh, just above the knee. He grinned at Rorick. “Well, my friend, shall we take our stroll through the town?”

“Yes, let us go.”

They advanced swiftly, passing through the remnants of the two hundred who had followed Conel, and now fought in a semicircle around the gateway. According to the plan agreed upon, two small detachments of the Warriors moved along the flanks with orders to particularly guard against flanking attacks. The Warriors would advance down the wide main street, while further forces entering behind them would take the other four streets which converged upon the gateway.

Then, down the wide main street, the Hygerians counter-attacked. In mid-rush, they cast their javelins, following which they threw themselves upon the front rank, and broke it. It cost them heavily, for most often they broke it by one man leaping upon an Asbalnian, seeking to grapple with him, while another struck with a sword or axe. However, the front rank was shattered under this impact and those that survived fought alone or in small knots surrounded by the Hygerians, who attempted to break the second rank as well.

They failed, for in breaking the first rank, they lost their momentum, as well as whatever cohesiveness they had possessed.

Rorick found himself fighting back to back with Conel, facing a tossing sea of spears, swords, and axes. It was only moments that they fought thus, though it seemed longer, while the second of the warriors advanced steadily, maintaining alignment, pushing the Hygerians before them. Then, as the second rank passed around and closed before the remnants of the first, Conel and Rorick turned and, leaning on their swords, grinned at each other.

From that moment, the Asbalnian attack was no longer in doubt. A further force had come into the breach, and Artir’s men had finally cleared the wall enough to begin leaping down inside. The Hygerians, however, continued to fight with their customary stubbornness, leaving no yard of cobblestone uncontested.

It ended much as the battle of Orden had, though here the hostages who had been taken from among the leading citizens were guarded by men with orders to slay them if any rising seemed about to begin. When the people rose, therefore, they first rescued the hostages; seventeen of fifty hostages were slain, but by then the captive population were raging among their captors.

Of the original five hundred, over three hundred died, thirty surrendered, and the rest fled. In a red sunset, Hardinian returned to its owners.