Authors: Sam Barone
The ramming stopped for a moment, as warriors with axes pried at the weakened logs. Then the ram began its hammering again. It took less than a dozen strokes before another pair of logs gave way. The din increased, as more axes hammered at the loosened logs, widening the aperture. A warrior tried to climb through the breach and was riddled with arrows that knocked him backward from sheer force of impact.
Esk kar gripped his shield and drew his sword, then turned to Grond and the bodyguards. “We have to stop them here. They can’t be allowed past the gate!” He grabbed the nearest bodyguard and shouted in his ear.
“Make sure the archers hold their fire when we move to the breach. Go!”
The man nodded and raced back to the line of archers, who stayed in their rough line, still loosening their arrows at the opening. Alur Meriki shields appeared, pushed through the breach, protecting the attackers massing behind them. Esk kar and Grond gave out mighty shouts and rushed toward the gap.
The attackers shoved their way through the narrow opening, crouching low and using their shields to avoid the defenders’ arrows. Rushing forward, Esk kar had no time to worry about an arrow in his back from his own men.
Raising his shield to his eyes, he took four quick steps and crashed against the shield of the first Alur Meriki warrior. Caught off balance, the man reacted slowly, stumbling in the jumble of beams and splinters, and Esk kar took a half - step back and swung the great sword down on the warrior’s head.
Again Esk kar lowered his shoulder behind his shield and shoved with all his might, pushing the dead body into the man behind him.
Battle fury took all of them, as Esk kar, Grond, and four soldiers formed a half - circle around the breach and defended it with a ferocity that surprised the attackers. The defenders were fresher, while the attackers had been working the ram or ducking arrows in the hot sun without water for nearly two hours.
The first wave of Alur Meriki fell back, driven by the vicious blows of Esk kar and his companions. But as the defenders exulted, a second horde of screaming attackers, seeing victory within their grasp, fought their way through the opening, a gap that grew wider as the enemy outside kept hammering away with their axes.
These attackers wielded lances as well as swords. They quickly widened the half - circle of warriors who had pushed through the opening. Eskkar struck again and again, using his shield to turn their swords and spears and striking at anything within reach of his great sword.
Suddenly a loud voice behind them commanded, “Down!”
Esk kar and his men responded by habit, so well trained were they, dropping to one knee and ducking their heads under their shields. A wave of arrows flashed over their heads. Instantly Esk kar and the others arose.
They’d practiced this tactic so often that now they did it without thinking.
The volley had stopped the invaders for a moment. Esk kar and his men, behind their shields and thrusting with their swords, attacked the wavering men before they could recover, forcing the warriors back. The besiegers gave ground for a moment, but once again fresh warriors pushed their way through the ever - widening breach into Orak.
Esk kar and his swordsmen anticipated the next command, and when the shout of “Down” came again, they dropped, letting another flight of arrows cross over them before they rose and again rushed the barbarians.
The Alur Meriki hesitated, taken aback by this strange tactic, not used to fighting swordsmen and archers at the same time. Before they could recover, Grond pushed his way nearly back to the breach, carrying a dead man pinned to his shield and hurling the body into the opening.
Swinging his sword over his head, Esk kar brought it crashing down with all his strength on a warrior’s shield, slicing through it and into the man’s arm.
More defenders surrounded him. A spearman pushed in front of Eskkar, even as fresh swordsmen arrived. Twenty swords now blocked the opening. But surprisingly, no new attackers tried to force the breach, so Esk kar stepped back and looked up at the gate. The upper parapet hung crookedly from its supports, but men continued to hurl stones down on their attackers. Only now they shouted with glee and worked with renewed energy. Something strange was happening, but he had no idea what.
Esk kar turned to Grond. “Hold them here.” He needed to see what had happened in the ditch. Racing to the right side of the gate, he dashed up the steps, nearly knocking over two men carrying baskets of rocks up to the defenders, and continued all the way to the parapet. He felt it sway precariously under his weight and hoped it would hold a while longer.
This time Esk kar didn’t bother with a shield, just looked over the top of the gate, standing back to be out of sight of any archers beneath him.
What he saw stunned him. Warriors were turning back, moving away from the ditch and running to the rear. Others backed away more slowly, firing their bows as they retreated. From the sides of the village, horsemen galloped back toward the plain, urging their horses hard and ignoring the fi ght at the gate. To his surprise they didn’t slow their mounts, even when they passed out of range of Orak’s arrows. They were racing back to their camp, but he didn’t understand why.
He squinted into the sun as he looked toward the highest hilltop, ignoring the sweat that ran into his eyes. That looked different, too. More than a dozen smoke trails rose into the cloudless sky from the Alur Meriki camp.
The fires themselves couldn’t be seen, but they burned near the northern portion of the Alur Meriki main camp.
He saw movement all over the hilltop. More men came running down the hills toward Orak to join the battle. No, by the gods, they were women!
Women running away from the camp. And dozens of riderless horses galloped toward Orak as well. Something had stampeded the animals. Another movement, something different, caught his eye and he strained to make out what it was.
On the crest of one of the highest hills a lone horseman stood, wheeling his horse and waving his lance high. Attached to the lance hung a long streamer. Even at this distance, Esk kar could make out its yellow color as it rippled in the breeze. The rider waved it for a few more moments, ignoring the rapidly approaching horsemen, before he leisurely turned away and galloped over the hilltop and out of sight.
“What is it?” Sisuthros stood at his side, breathing hard, his left arm covered in blood. “What’s happening?”
Esk kar tried to laugh, but his dry throat wouldn’t permit more than a cackle. A wheezing villager came behind him with a bucket of water destined for the fire below. Esk kar grabbed it and poured it over his face, filling his mouth at the same time.
“Can’t you see, Sisuthros,” he answered when he’d slacked his thirst.
“That was Subutai, and by the gods, he’s ridden clean through their camp!”
“They’ll catch him for sure, won’t they?” Sisuthros’s voice showed concern.
Esk kar turned his gaze back to the vacant hilltop. He laughed now, his throat refreshed. “Subutai’s not that foolish. I’m sure he put his horse to a full gallop the instant he left the hilltop. He’ll have a hard run to escape them, but he’ll make it. He must have raided the camp, burned some tents, stampeded the horses, and made sure the Alur Meriki knew he was there.
That’s what made them abandon the attack, knowing that their women and children were at risk. They don’t know how few men attacked their camp.”
They stood there in silence. Esk kar watched as the last of the Alur Meriki scrambled out of the ditch and began to run as fast as they could to the rear. Many dropped swords and weapons in their haste, trying to outrace the angry arrows chasing them. Shafts struck down a few of them, as the defenders showed no mercy and lost no opportunity to take their targets.
A broad trail of bodies, arrows protruding from their backs, marked the fl ight of the barbarians. The sight saddened him and he felt strangely glad when the last escaped out of range. Many paused to shake their fists at Orak and its defenders, their anger and frustration all too evident. Others just knelt in the dust to catch their breath, too tired from fighting and running even to call curses upon their enemies.
Cheers echoed along the wall, ragged and hoarse, growing louder as those away from the gate grasped what happened. Esk kar watched the retreat and counted the lines of smoke climbing into the hot sky. The smoke streams merged, making it difficult, but he guessed at least thirty fires had been set. Not a great number, but enough to send a lot of smoke into the sky. Subutai wouldn’t have many men, but one horseman carrying a torch could do much in little time. Subutai must have prepared his men carefully. He’d learned well that lesson.
Esk kar wondered how many more men Subutai had lost and hoped the number was small. Even if the Alur Meriki had no force of warriors guarding the camp, there would have been a few boys and old men who could draw a bow. Subutai’s men faced a long and hard ride to the north, with at least a hundred warriors pursuing them.
“Could we have held them off ? Without Subutai’s attack?” Blood dripped from Sisuthros’s cheek. The old wound had reopened, probably from all the shouting.
“Well, we’ll never know for sure, but I think we might have held them.
Their bowmen’s fire was weakening. Still …” He realized the cheering had taken a different note. The shouts of joy remained, but now a new, simple cry began to rise up. “Esk kar! … Esk kar! … Esk kar! …” the crowd roared, and in a moment it sounded as if the whole village had but one voice.
He turned and looked down into the village. It seemed like every man, woman, and child had come there, jammed into the open spaces and the lanes, with more coming and others appearing on the housetops or the wall. The shouts went on and on. He noticed movement in the mass of people crowded below. A half - dozen soldiers pushed their way through the throng, Trella in their midst. They had to force their way through the solid mass until the villagers saw who they escorted and let them pass. The chant changed and Trella’s name, too, echoed from the walls.
Esk kar looked at Sisuthros and saw his subcommander had joined in the cheering. “I’ve never seen such a thing before.” Esk kar’s words went unheard, vanishing in the swell of sound. Then Trella reached the steps.
Eager hands guided her up the parapet until she reached Esk kar. He took her in his arms and held her tightly, to another outburst of cheers. When he let her go, she clung to his side and shouted into his ear.
“Speak to them. Tell them what they want to hear.”
He looked at her face, calm and serene, her head held high. She’d planned even for this. Esk kar raised both his arms and called for silence.
At fi rst they ignored him and shouts of “Esk kar” and “Trella” kept rising.
Eventually they quieted down, helped by those who wanted to hear what Esk kar would say. He shouted before they could begin again. “Villagers …
soldiers. We have driven off the barbarians!”
Another roar went up into the sky, everyone shouting with all their strength. Esk kar had to wait a long time before he could continue. “We’ve done what no village has ever done. Now they will have to move on. You fought bravely today. Now we must tend to our wounded and bury our dead, because many good men have fought and died today. We must rebuild Orak bigger and stronger than ever before.”
Dozens of villagers cried out, “Lead us! … Protect us! … You must rule Orak!” In moments, every person in the village demanded the same thing. Soldiers waved their swords or bows as they shouted, while villagers uplifted their arms. Even Trella stepped aside and turned toward him, lifting up her arms and joining in the exhortation of the mob.
Esk kar raised his hand again, and after another long burst of cheering, the noise finally abated. When he spoke he used all the voice he could muster, his words carrying to all those below. “If you wish me to guide and protect you, I will do so. Do you choose me to rule in Orak?”
This time the noise sounded like thunder, Orak’s inhabitants yelling themselves hoarse with excitement and joy, as well as relief at being delivered from the barbarians. Esk kar let it go on for a moment, then raised his hands and called for silence. “Then I will lead you. There’s much work to do, but now we can begin.”
The crowd cheered again. Esk kar stood there, keeping his right arm raised in acknowledgment. It took a long time before the voices began to die down. “Now, back to your tasks!” he shouted, and turned away from the crowd.
He led Trella down the parapet. At the base of the gate, Corio, Bantor, and Gatus waited. Esk kar gave instructions to secure the gate, tend to the wounded, and bury the dead. There would be no rest yet for the villagers.
They had to rebuild the gate and secure it before nightfall. Esk kar told Gatus to send archers back to the walls, post sentries, and keep the soldiers alert.
When Esk kar finally finished giving these and a dozen other orders, Trella faced him.
“Now that everything is being done as you command, we must walk through the village and speak to as many of the people as you can.”
He took her hand, smiling for the first time in days. “And what am I to say to the people?”
“Thank each of them for their work today and in the past months. Tell them how much our success today depended on their efforts. Say that in as many different ways as you can.”
A group of women approached, carrying cloths soaked in water. They washed the blood and dirt from Esk kar’s body, one of them kneeling to clean his feet and sandals. Then, surrounded by the Hawk Clan, he and Trella walked through Orak. They went down every lane and stopped at nearly every house. Esk kar accepted thanks and praise while he repeated the same message—that Orak owed it all to them, that they were the real victors, and that he thanked the gods for their help. While they walked, messengers still came to him, with questions or requests for orders.
He answered these, but Trella refused to let him abandon the walk.
“This is more important,” she told him when he grew impatient. “Now, when the victory is fresh in their minds, you must win them to your side once again. They’ll be your power in the coming months, until we’re truly secure as Orak’s rulers. They’ll remember your words of praise and grati-tude forever.”