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Hardinian stood by the strength of the Sword,
Stood and was held from the dark-haired horde;
Stood like a rock in the raging sea,
That Asbaln’s men might be made free.
Icar’s arrows, in streaks of light,
Drop, as eagles, from great height;
Back they drove the western breed,
Standing at bay that their land be freed.
-from “The Holding of Hardinian”
Phedron Double axe
Early in the morning, a pair of men went out to scout the path for them. A little later, the main body left. There were Hygerian patrols, but their scouts warned them well in advance so that they could avoid them. At last, they were in essentially the same position as that from which they had begun their attack the previous night.
Some results of their night’s work were visible, the charred areas marking burned stores, the great ram, though not wholly destroyed, canted over at an angle which indicated that it would at least require a good deal of work before it could be made usable again. There was much obvious reorganization going on in the Hygerian camp, and it was some time before any real action began.
The two catapults which remained to them launched their missiles about noon, while men with ropes and ladders formed parties, followed by larger forces immediately behind.
After surveying the approximate form of the assault, Rorick issued some swift orders to his commanders, then mounted. He rode up in front of his force and spoke to them.
“It is not our intention to become dead heroes, fighting gallantly but uselessly among the Hygerian tents this afternoon. We hope to disturb this first assault sufficiently to prevent its having any serious effect on the city, and ourselves enter the city to help fight off further assaults. Anyone Iino does not do his utmost to reach the city comes very near to committing treason against the King. Now, let us go and give them a day to remember.”
He surveyed the faces among the forest of lances. Some were grim, some were smiling, but he felt sure that all would follow him.
At that moment, the men guarding their back-trail came riding in answer to the summons. “Milord Guardian,” said one of them, “there is a Hygerian patrol nearly upon us.”
“Then it is time for us to be going.” He turned his horse and led them over the hill-crest.
All Hygerian eyes were on the advancing attackers, even those who were set to watch for just this eventuality, an Asbalnian attack from the rear. The lesson of last night was learned and had such a highly organized assault on city walls not been such a novelty for Hygerians, Rorick and his force would most certainly have had a more difficult time of it.
Suddenly, the Hygerians turned toward them and were preparing to receive them. Rorick noted with a touch of pride that even as the Hygerian arrows and javelins struck, the line of his cavalry remained perfectly straight. But by this time they were close enough, and the trumpet sounded at his signal, and the whole force broke into a gallop.
The Hygerians had not assembled an effective defence, and Rorick led them at a point where the Dark Ones were still somewhat disorganized. They crashed through the wavering line and watched it disappear. They did not hesitate, but rode directly toward the gate, ignoring the several groups of men who sought to cut them off.
The Hygerian assault force, immediately aware of the shouted warnings and pounding hooves behind them, turned. They were ridden down, and as the Asbalnians struck, many of them fled in all directions. At the same time, the gate of Hardinian opened.
From the gate came all the cavalry available to the Asbalnians, riding to strike into the confused Hygerians and allow Rorick’s force to enter safely. Behind them came a powerful force of infantry who formed a semicircle in front of the gate, waiting.
Rorick and his force, not pausing at all, rode directly toward the gate. When they were free of the Hygerian lines, a trumpet sounded the recall, and the rest of the cavalry withdrew behind them. The semicircle of infantry waited until all had entered, watching lest some Hygerians be alert enough and organized enough to try for the open gate. Then the infantry withdrew as well, and the gate was shut.
For three days, while their cavalry patrols combed the countryside for miles, the Hygerians tried only limited assaults, feeling for weakness in the defences. Twice, the Asbalnians sent out small forces to cause consternation and destroying equipment, and this apparently caused the Hygerians to think very hard before simply launching a mass attack.
On the third day, there was a sudden uproar in the Hygerian camp, and the defenders of Hardinian saw a column of about sixteen hundred men coming in from the north. There were signs of a fairly recent battle, for some of them still wore bandages, but there was obvious rejoicing in the Hygerian camp, especially after there was time for the newcomers to pass their news.
Conel and Rorick stood together on the walls, watching.
“There is a feeling upon me that Phedron has been defeated,” said Conel. “And if that is so, then we are indeed doomed.”
Rorick could only nod. He considered the idea of attempting to break out, to flee with what they could to the north. Suddenly, out beyond the Hygerian camp, there was a flicker of movement.
A mounted man burst forth from the edge of the woods, and as he did so, a roughly made standard burst free upon the staff he held, a double-bladed axe, red, on a green field. “Look!” he pointed, and Conel looked as well.
Then Rorick leaned down and called to one of the men below, “Find Garth, by the stables, and have him prepare a sally! There is a messenger from Phedron coming in!”
The Hygerians had still not sighted the man, though by now he was crossing the line where the sentries had been posted. As he rode among the tents, shouts of alarm rising among the cheers and cries of joy could be heard. Belatedly, Rorick turned to Conel, “Call up some archers!” He himself turned and ran to the nearest catapult, where the crew were looking over the wall with interest.
“Prepare to shoot! Hurry, we must bring this man in!”
Then, unable to do anything but watch, he clenched his hands on the rough stone of the wall, watching as the man galloped on, bent low over his mount, through a sudden hail of javelins which, miraculously, left him untouched. Mounted men were riding now, both in pursuit, and to head him off, and it was clear that most of them had fresher horses.
Rorick muttered, “Come on, man, come on!” He had passed through the camp, and was nearing the point where the catapult might reach. But a strung out line of galloping Hygerians was about to ride in front of him. Rorick pointed at them and turning to the catapult men when he heard the snap of the string and looked back just in time to see the end of the missile’s flight.
The foremost of the Hygerians went down with his horse, and the rest were just far enough back to be forced to turn and pursue the messenger. By the time the catapult was re-cocked, arrows were flying from the archers on the wails, and again the nearest pursuer went down. The catapult snapped again, and Rorick saw earth leap as it struck off to the side. He glanced over at the men on the catapult, and one of them was glancing at him. The man smiled ruefully and shrugged. “One can’t be so lucky at all times, Milord.”
By then the sound of clattering hooves on cobblestones was heard, and shouts behind them. The gate swung open to let Garth and a hundred horsemen sweep out. By some minor miracle, the archers had prevented the Hygerians from laying a hand on the messenger, but his horse was obviously weary, running now mostly on will, and the mass of men behind hill were coming up, too many for the archers to deal with any certainty, especially as they neared their quarry.
Garth and his men reached the messenger at the same time as the pursuers finally did. The Hygerians, neither in formation for battle nor desiring to fight one, fell back, fighting at first, then fleeing. Garth and his men were not out to fight either, and when they had achieved this purpose, they turned and trotted back to the gate.
The man had suffered only a minor shoulder wound, and was brought to Conel and Rorick at once, when his shoulder had been bandaged.
“We met them eight miles south of Relyn crossing, Milords. An early patrol of ours met a Hygerian patrol, and we moved up in battle order, not truly knowing each other’s strength. Phedron tried to break through the center with two squadrons of cavalry, with infantry following. He had practically succeeded at that when the rest of the enemy came up. There were enough of them then that, even after having reinforced their center, they were able to circle our flanks. Phedron himself led his cavalry to beat back the circling forces on the one flank while the rest of the army was disengaged and fought so fiercely in the rear-guard that the Hygerians pursued not at all.
“We were defeated, but not destroyed. The Hygerians were content to leave a small force to watch Relyn crossing, but neither were we immediately able to seek further battle.
“We received your message the next day, but Phedron says it is not possible for him to come now, and he suggests you return to the hills to meet him there.”
When the messenger had been dismissed, Rorick looked at Conel, and Conel returned the look. “Well, Rorick, can we fight our way out of the city to Phedron’s Hold?”
“We can, but we will lose a quarter or more of our force in doing so, especially as they will now be expecting some such attempt. And it will be a running fight all the way, so that food would be whatever we could pick up on the way, and we would be scattered and vulnerable. If eight hundred of us reached Phedron, I would say that the Powers themselves were smiling on us.”
“And I would estimate that we can hold the city for weeks, and not much more. A week and a half beyond, using every trick we can invent, and perhaps conscripting citizens, but further than that, we must have the luck of Thumill of the Three Rings to survive.”
Rorick nodded. “My thoughts as well. And we will need Thumill’s luck.”
“And. he died, holding fast to his position as well, did he not? You will support my decision to stand here, then?”
“Indeed. I may be wrong, and an attack from here with all our strength might scatter them enough that the most of us might escape, but to be driven a second time from Hardinian might lose for us some part of the faith of the people. Give us a land yet half free in the winter, and by next spring the men of Asbaln might be a little less open of hand toward their still enslaved brothers.
“I think we must hold, though this is not Dwyllen Lhor, and though we wait only for the coming of Phedron and not for the gathering of the Elder Host. May the Powers who smiled on Thumill smile also on us.”
A breathless messenger dashed in. “They are coming, Lords!”
Rorick looked at him calmly. “Thank you. Be sure that the men on the walls have been warned. The and I will come out soon, but we have some plans to complete. If the situation becomes more than the Captains on the walls can deal with, send for us again.”
The man gave them a surprised look, then he said, “It shall be done, Milord.” He strode out, and Conel looked questioningly at Rorick.
The Guardian smiled. “You and I have been engaged, one or the other or both of us, in almost every skirmish fought since I came to you in the Hills. What will the men think if, now, under what seems to be the heaviest attack we have ever suffered, we feel that it is not vitally necessary for us to be on the walls?”
Light dawned in Conel’s eyes. “If the situation is such that we do not feel that the Captains of the walls need our presence, why it cannot be so desperate as it seems, can it?”
“Precisely. And when that word is spread to the men, as I am sure that it will, it will be worth an extra five hundred swords on the wall. And since I did say that we must make plans, let this be one! No matter how desperate the situation becomes, we must leave matters to the Captains. We must see to it that the times when we actually step in and draw swords are those times when the fate of all lies in the balance.”
Conel nodded. “Yes, there is truth in that. And will it be, I think, long before it becomes absolutely necessary for us to be constantly ready upon the walls. But we must not fail to be seen.”
In a shouting mob, the Hygerians came up the slope to the city. Their few archers launched arrows, and when the ranged shortened, the others paused to hurl javelins, a seemingly unending stream of them. Though some shafts found their marks, men were falling in the dark-clad ranks as well, for the Icarians were plying their trade, and the Asbalnians had large stocks of Hygerian javelins to use up. Not all those on the walls were expert, or even experienced, at casting javelins, but nearly all were willing to try, and even a beginner may have luck.
The main attack was directed at the breach, of course, and though the ditch and the stakes slowed and hindered them, they did not stop the rush. But in the slowing, they were harassed by arrows and javelins from the breach and from the walls flanking it. Those who managed to pass the stakes set in the rubble of the breach were met by a counter-attack that halted them, and missiles continued to strike into those crowded up behind them.
At other places, ladders and ropes with grappling-hooks were cast up against the walls, but with little success. Eventually, they withdrew. They did not come again until midmorning of the next day.
This time, those in the lead brought up bundles of brush which they cast into the ditch, making the crossing somewhat easier. This time, however, more archers were waiting, and a hundred men were crouched inside, just behind the remnants of the well. Rorick stood back, watching.
In spite of the arrows, numerous enemies managed to come over the wall. As they came down over the precarious footing of the scattered stones, they met the men inside, in three ranks. Rorick watched the hammering, shouting battle as it went, but took no actual part himself. When the Hygerians retreated again, he strolled over to the men in charge of the force. “Well done. You know how it is to be done now. If you have any questions, or if you have any ideas, see me later in my quarters.”
“Thank you, Milord.” Pride and pleasure showed in the young men’s eyes.
But Conel and Rorick were much less unconcerned when together. Alone, they discussed their casualties. “We have lost too many. At this rate, we cannot possibly last until Phedron comes.” Conel was frowning, drumming his fingers on the paper before him on the table.
“Two things. First, many of these lost were those who had no armour, or who were casting javelins while the Hygerians were casting theirs. Secondly, their main attempt to scale the wall came at the point where the citizen volunteers were placed. And while the volunteers were not inexperienced, none of them had seen battle for some time.”
“Perhaps we should have moved then when we saw the attack coming at them.” He waved a hand. “No, I know, we could not, for they were put on the wall precisely to give them confidence in themselves, and to remove them when they were about to be attacked would have destroyed that confidence. But it worries me.”
“Yet they have fought off the enemy by themselves, and we are continuing to drill them. In a week’s time, our casualty rates will fall. Have faith, Conel.”
Conel smiled. “Yes, perhaps I worry too much.”