To Rouse Leviathan, page 10
Horrified at the spectacle of their melting troops, the other officers sounded a hasty retreat. The Mhoul soldiers stumbled back, casting aside their twisted shields. The shield formation slowly broke apart as the soldiers withdrew, Immortals falling while the acid consumed them. “Let’s end this,” Max said grimly as he moved to the nearest catapult.
Ha’sim and Max shoved the catapult into line with the Immortal forces, the wheels grinding on their long dry bearings. Max sighted along the arm and pulled the release lever. The basket of obsidian chips arced forward. When the arm crashed into the stop-bar, it snapped in half and the basket cart-wheeled over the battlement. Wood splinters pelted Max and Ha’sim. But most of the stone fragments flew free and a hail of missiles struck the retreating Immortals. A pipe whistled sharply and the survivors broke into a shambling run. “You just can’t find good catapults any more,” Max complained, glaring at the ruined engine as he plucked slivers out of his hair.
Unslinging his bow, Max nodded to his Shadows. “A few shots to say farewell?” The three archers launched their shafts and more Immortals fell. The wounded tried to rise again even as they died and those that could not stand crawled until the end. Fewer than half of the brigade made it back to the shelter of the towers. Those at the portcullis had been reduced to charred skeletons, which lay amid the warped ruins of their shields. A foul odor drifted through the valley and clung to the damp stones of the keep. Silence fell as the last of the Immortals disappeared into the fog beyond the towers. Max leaned on the parapet and peered into the mist. “I wish this cursed fog would lift.”
“Listen,” Sha’lor hissed.
A distant chorus of screeches came from somewhere up the valley. Max and his Shadows waited tensely and strained to hear more. The harsh cries died away but were soon replaced by a dismal flapping sound that steadily grew closer. Then a flock of nightmare shapes, twisted reddish gnomes suspended on naked wings, emerged from the wall of mist.
“Bal’igna’s harpies,” Ha’sim cried.
“No,” Max corrected him. “Gargoyles, the Mhoul’s aerial attack forces.”
“We saw a similar creature this morning while you scouted the mountain,” Sha’lor said to her brother.
The mass of flying creatures swooped toward them, covering the distance with alarming speed. The defenders could now see the short, barbed spears they carried. Max ran for the far catapult. “Help me aim this,” he shouted. “We have time for only one shot.” They swung the catapult to face the oncoming cloud of gargoyles and Max yanked on the release. The basket jerked, but the trigger mechanism jammed. The gargoyles began shrieking again, their garbled cries grating on human ears. “Not now, you worthless antique,” Max said as he kicked at the stubborn lever.
Ha’sim and Sha’lor readied their bows, faces grim as they watched the gargoyles’ approach. On Max’s third kick, the trigger finally gave. This time the basket arm held and the catapult cast its deadly cargo into the gargoyle swarm. The hideous creatures croaked in pain as the shrapnel tore through their ranks. Those closest to the catapult blossomed with ragged wounds that leaked midnight ooze. The razor-edged missiles shredded the wings of several flyers and they tumbled from the air, flailing their skinny arms. Some farther back had time to twist aside as the rock fragments hurtled past them. Fifteen gargoyles dropped, either killed instantly or wounded so badly they could not remain aloft. Nearly forty gargoyles continued their mad rush, squawking incessantly, dark eyes filled with hatred.
Max and the Ha’ashtari stepped back from the catapult and formed a line. They poured arrows into the attackers as fast as they could load and fire. More gargoyles, their bodies bristling with arrows, fell from the sky. But there were too many. The attackers swooped over the battlements and encircled the archers. “Back to the overhang,” Max ordered. “We’re too exposed here.” They ran for the cliff face, ducking under stabbing spears and buffeting wings. The insane shrieking of the gargoyles filled the air. A barbed point raked across Ha’sim’s shoulder, but he knocked away the next thrust with his bow. A dagger appeared on Max’s fingertips and he cast it upwards. A winged shape spilled from above and crumbled into a reddish heap, Max’s dagger protruding from its throat. They leaped over the thrashing body, almost to the cliff now. Max felt a spear grind along his ebonite mail and he ran even faster. After what seemed like an eternity, they tumbled into the half-cave formed by the overhang. Two of their pursuers landed and waddled into the shelter, forked tails dragging on the stones behind them. Black swords and Ha’ashtari knives spilled their blood and silenced their raucous cries forever.
The rest of the swarm drew back and hovered over the rooftop or landed a safe distance away. Fortunately, several bundles of arrows lay nearby, and Max and the Shadows refilled their quivers. Kneeling under the rock shelter, the archers shot at any available target. The gargoyles soon learned that landing on the roof was too dangerous and they flapped upward to perch on the cliff above.
“Cowardly beasts,” Sha’lor said. “They can’t reach us in here.”
“No, but we’ve effectively yielded the rooftop to them,” Max grated.
“What do we do?” Ha’sim asked.
“It’s up to Morgan now. If I think of anything, I’ll let you know,” Max said.
**
The Harrier officers quickly took advantage of the aerial attack. A third brigade of Immortals formed a shield cage and marched toward the keep. The soldiers had to skirt the smoking craters of acid that marred the earth. Once in position at the gate, the Immortals resumed their efforts to raise the portcullis. The jammed mechanism and the sheer weight of the portcullis held them for a while, but then something snapped and the portcullis started rising. As soon as it was high enough for the soldiers to enter, they propped the grate up and secured it in place. Accompanied by a Harrier sergeant, Immortals again filled the entry chamber. The sergeant barked an order and the soldiers immediately covered the arrow slits with shields. The mass of shields outside parted further and three trolls emerged with a large battering ram. The ram soon thundered against the heavy inner door. Morgan and the Carnites watched as the door bucked against its hinges.
“This won’t take long,” Rees said, gripping a spear.
Morgan looked around. “Use torches. Burn the shield-bearers.” They armed themselves with torches and entered the passageways on either side of the door. Morgan held his torch against the shield blocking the nearest arrow slit. Soon the soldier’s sleeve began smoldering from the heat and then burst into flame. The sergeant noticed and wrenched the Immortal’s arm out of the shield straps. He threw the soldier to the floor and stomped out the fire. Morgan hurled a spear through the open slit, but an Immortal blocked the cast with a shield. At the direction of the sergeant, the Immortals repositioned the shields and propped them against the slits with spear shafts.
Morgan left the passageway and returned to the chamber. He saw that the gate would not last long. Splinters already protruded from the wood and one of the hinges twisted loosely. “Retreat to the second floor. We’ll fight them level by level,” Morgan said grimly. As the gate continued to sag beneath the furious pounding, the defenders gathered torches and weapons and climbed the stairway. Morgan had the Carnites carry some boulders down from the third floor and pile them on the second floor landing. They made sure the second floor trapdoor would close and bolt and then they waited. The Princess joined them and stationed herself at the nostril port. “A party of Immortals is recovering bodies out there.”
Morgan squatted near one of the boulders. “They always do that. Have to process them for rebirth soon after they die. Rotting corpses don’t reconstitute well.”
“How horrible,” Celeste said with a shudder.
“More efficient than burying them as we do,” Morgan remarked.
Celeste turned and stared at Morgan, who gave her a grim smile. “You’re sick,” she said.
Morgan glanced at Diomedes. “Our continual exposure to martial endeavors has engendered certain morbid tendencies.”
The little scholar nodded. “I agree,” he said gravely.
“Can I borrow your bow?” Morgan asked. Celeste silently handed him the weapon, along with her quiver. The main body of soldiers clustered around the gate below, too close to be seen from the port. But a smaller group moved across the field of battle in plain view, collecting the fallen. This recovery team was vulnerable to archery fire and Morgan managed to hit several of its members before they finished their grisly task. When the team finally departed, Morgan returned the bow and quiver. Morgan looked out over the valley. “I’m afraid we lost the rooftop.”
“What?” Celeste asked as she glanced out the hole beside the big man.
“No more archery fire or acid from the roof. There’s only one reason for that,” Morgan said.
Over the pounding on the gate, they could hear occasional cries and shrieks from above. “I saw the gargoyles coming. A lot of bodies fell past the port, and then . . . nothing,” Celeste said. “You don’t think Max is . . . “
“If Max was dead, Immortals would be attacking from the upper levels. It’s more likely that he’s pinned down under the overhang,” Morgan said. “He’ll hold out as long as he can.”
Morgan and his group waited at the second floor landing. A resounding crash came from the lower level and the defenders knew the main door had fallen. They could hear soldiers entering the chamber below and soon Immortals began ascending the stairs. Morgan waited until they were just around the curve of the stairwell and dislodged the pile of stones. The boulders rolled down the steps, battering a path through the soldiers below. They could hear Immortals falling back down the stairs and the rumble of the massive stones. “Tak, close and bolt the trap,” Morgan said.
As Tak secured the trapdoor, Morgan and the others moved a heavy metal cabinet onto the door. Morgan sent Lor and Rees for more rocks from the tunnel. When they returned, he had them heap the rocks next to the cabinet. Before long, the trapdoor began to shake from a serious battering. The Immortals could not pack enough of their number into the narrow stairwell to break through immediately. Finally, the bolt tore loose, but the weight of the rocks and cabinet kept the door from opening very far. Under tremendous abuse, the hinges on the trap suddenly gave way, and the rocks and the trapdoor collapsed on the Immortals below. The cabinet, too big to fall through, remained partially covering the hole. The enemy tumbled down the stairs in an avalanche of wood and stone. While the attackers brought in reinforcements to clear away the debris and casualties, Morgan’s group made an orderly retreat to the third floor.
On the roof of the fortress, Max and the Ha’ashtari waited with arrows nocked. There were no gargoyles in sight, and the noisy creatures had suddenly fallen silent.
“We need some Cannesian wyr falcons,” Max said suddenly.
“What?” Sha’lor said, with a worried glance at her brother.
Max’s eyes were distant with memory. “A Swarm had us pinned down at the battle of Tra-Gordon. DuBelloc and his Falconeers flew in on these great vicious birds. Attacked the gargoyles and scattered them. Slaughtered most of them. I gained a new respect for the Cannesians and their falcons that day.”
“I have seen Cannesians,” Ha’sim said. “Trading at Aquarquff.”
“Arrogant southlanders,” Sha’lor added. “Too fair to soil themselves with Ha’ashtari. They always hire a Quffian.”
“Sabine is quite fair,” Max recalled.
“Who?” Sha’lor asked.
“Rulda’s wife,” Max explained, watching Sha’lor closely. “Beautiful woman, with ivory skin and raven locks.”
“Did you lie with her too?” Sha’lor snarled.
“The Sagess of Androssar?” Max cried. “Rulda would have me drawn and quartered.” Max paused, and then added. “Although I must say I was tempted. Those dark eyes . . .”
“The harpies. What about the harpies?” Ha’sim interrupted, desperate to change the subject.
Sha’lor shot a last venomous look at Max. She craned her neck and tried to see past the overhang. “Have they left?”
“I doubt it. But I’m not staying here,” Max said as he edged forward. He glanced at Ha’sim with a wicked smile. Sha’lor’s brother rolled his eyes in exasperation. They stepped out into the open, expecting an immediate attack, but nothing happened. Max spun and covered the cliff face with his bow. The rocks and sky above appeared empty, and the eerie silence continued. Max ran for the battlement while the Ha’ashtari covered his back. They reached the parapet without incident and looked over the edge. The fog had cleared enough for them to see the main body of Mhoul soldiers. It stretched as far as they could see along the mountain trail. Immortals stood in two columns as a small force of Harriers marched between them toward the castle. Someone had set up a command post on the slope above, well out of bow range. “It’s only a matter of time,” Max remarked.
“The odds are hopeless,” Ha’sim observed. “The ta’hoda will achieve great glory.”
“How comforting,” Max said. He leaned over the edge of the parapet and studied the area around the portcullis. “The turtle is back, it has breached the main gate. Shall we cook this one too?”
Max and Ha’sim slung their bows and moved to the nearest vat while Sha’lor kept watch. “What is that sound?” she asked abruptly. They heard a faint rustle above them and Max’s eyes widened. “It’s a trap.”
A shadow hurtled over them. Max whirled around as Ha’sim lurched forward. A set of barbed hooks had snagged the Ha’ashtari’s back and shoulders and a rope snaked upwards. Three gargoyles clutched the rope, straining to lift their victim from the roof. Max and Sha’lor both leaped for Ha’sim. Sha’lor’s brother struggled to cut the rope with a knife, his face set against the agony of the cruel tines imbedded in his flesh.
A second grapple, swung by another trio of flyers, whipped past Sha’lor. One tine caught in her quiver strap and jerked her off balance. Unaware of Sha’lor’s plight, Max slapped an arrow into his bow and fired. One of the gargoyles dragging at Ha’sim screeched in pain as the shaft pierced its bony chest. The wounded creature released its hold and lost altitude, flapping weakly as it fell. Sha’lor still held her bow, and she fired at her attackers as they hauled her into the air by the strap. Her bolt ripped into the belly of a gargoyle and its wings folded. The creature fluttered away, clawed hands clenched around the shaft in its middle. The sudden sag in the rope dropped Sha’lor back onto the roof and the unexpected impact drove her to her knees. She dropped her bow and cut the rope with her knife before the gargoyles could raise her again. Sha’lor tore the grapple free from the strap and hurled it upwards. The two gargoyles released the rope as they twisted to avoid their own weapon.
Max aimed at another of the scarlet fiends holding Ha’sim’s rope. With the hooks imbedded in his back, Ha’sim could not reach the rope with his knife. The gargoyles dragged him over the parapet and the Ha’ashtari swung into space. Max held his fire, fearing that if he killed another gargoyle Ha’sim would fall to his death. Cursing, Max sought another target as he swept the sky above his arrow. A third group of flyers, a grapple splitting the air beneath it, dove toward the roof. Max turned and fired into them. He killed one and the others veered away. At Sha’lor’s shout of rage, Max spun and reloaded in one smooth motion. A single gargoyle, a spear gripped in its bony hands, flew toward Ha’sim. The Ha’ashtari’s body hung between Max and the attacker, so he bounded sideways for a clear shot.
With a defiant yell, Ha’sim shoved hard against the parapet behind him and swung himself into the spear wielder. Knocking aside the thrusting point, he wrapped his legs around the startled creature. He seized the gargoyle by the throat with one hand and cut the rope with the other. Dropping the useless spear, the gargoyle tore at Ha’sim with claws and teeth. The thrashing wings could not keep both of them aloft and the pair drifted downward in a tangle of limbs. As Ha’sim fell from view, Max saw more deadly shadows converging on them and looked up. Two more groups of gargoyles descended on the roof. Max fired at the reinforcements, while Sha’lor ran to the parapet. Max emptied his quiver and scattered the aerial assault. Unable to withstand his deadly accuracy, the flyers withdrew, their ambush thwarted.
Max ran to join Sha’lor, who stood at the edge of the parapet. Her bow lay on the stones behind her. Suspended above the cluster of Immortals at the gate, Ha’sim fended off the gargoyle’s teeth and claws, and drove his knife into the fiend’s chest. The gargoyle’s wings folded, and the two bodies plummeted downwards, smashing into the roof of shields. Ha’sim and the gargoyle slid from the sloping metal surface onto the bloodstained grass. The Ha’ashtari lay motionless in a crumpled heap with the grappling hook still lodged in his back. Screeching hideously, the gargoyle dragged itself across the trampled ground, its wing bones shattered.
A shadow crossed the roof. Max grabbed Sha’lor as she screamed a chilling Ha’ashtari war cry. She knocked his hand away, drew her knives and shook them at the circling gargoyles. Tears streaked the dust on her cheeks. “Look out!” Max shouted. Sha’lor whirled and her blade clanged off a grapple tearing for her back. They ducked and rolled, then raced back to the shelter of the cliff face. Sha’lor grabbed her bow as they ran past.
**
Inside the keep, Morgan and the other defenders gathered around the trapdoor on the third floor. They shut and bolted the door and piled more rocks and furniture on it. Morgan and Rees waited on one side of the trapdoor with their backs to the main chamber. Tak and Lor stood opposite them on the tunnel side. The men all carried salvaged Immortal spears. The Princess waited by the eyeholes and watched the soldiers outside. Diomedes rummaged through one of the chests. His insatiable curiosity had apparently overwhelmed any concern for their situation. Morgan suddenly ran for his pack. He dropped his spear and tore the pack open.
