The noise startled the woodcutters. But then, seeing that the jest was not aimed at them, they relaxed.
Not much, of course. Within seconds, they were scampering down the trail toward their village ten miles away. Being very careful to skirt the five hundred Kushan soldiers coming up that trail.
Kungas strode forward.
“Let’s take a look at this mighty fortress, shall we?”
Twenty minutes later, Kujulo was complaining again.
“I don’t believe this shit. Those are guards? That’s a fortress?”
Kungas and the five other Kushan troop leaders who were gathered alongside him, examining the fortress from a screen of trees, grunted their own contempt.
They were situated southeast of the fortress. The structure was perched on top of a small hill just before them. Two hundred feet tall, that hill, no more. On the other side of the hill, still invisible to the Kushans concealed within the trees, stretched the huge reaches of the ocean.
The forest which blanketed the coast was thinner on the hill. But not much. Some trees—mature, full-grown ones—were growing at the base of the fortress’ walls. The branches of one particularly large tree even spread over part of the battlements.
“What kind of idiots don’t clear the trees around a fortress?” demanded Kujulo.
“My favorite kind of idiots,” replied Kungas softly. “Really, really, really idiotic idiots.”
Kungas turned to face his subordinates. For once, he was actually smiling. A real, genuine smile, too. Not the crack in his iron face that usually passed for such.
“What do you think? Can we do it?”
Five sarcastic grunts came in reply. Kujulo pointed a finger at the fortress’ entrance. The heavy wooden gates on the fortress’ south side were wide open. In front of them, in the shelter provided by a makeshift canopy, eight Malwa soldiers lounged at their ease. Only one of them was even bothering to stand. The rest were sprawled on the ground. Two were apparently sleeping. The other five seemed to be engaged in a game of chance.
“Fuck the scaling equipment,” growled Kujulo. “Don’t need it. I can get my men within ten yards of those pigs without being seen. A quick rush and we’ve got the gate.”
“How long could you hold it, do you think?” asked Kungas. The Kushan commander studied the trees growing on the hill. “You can get your men up there without being seen. But I don’t think I can get more than three other squads close before they’re spotted. The rest of us will have to wait here until you start the attack.”
He glanced up, gauging the weather. The sky was overcast, but Kungas did not think it would rain anytime soon. Not for several hours, at least. He lowered his gaze and examined the hill itself. Estimating the distance and the condition of the terrain.
“Five hundred feet. Muddy. Steep climb. It’ll take us two minutes.”
Kujulo sneered.
“Two minutes? You think I can’t hold a big gate like that against those sorry shits? With the help of three other squads? For a lousy two minutes?”
Kungas was amused. Kujulo’s complaint, this time, was filled with genuine aggrievement.
“Do it, then. Pick whichever other squads you want for immediate support. While you’re working your way up the hill, I’ll get the rest of the men ready for the main charge.”
Kujulo began to rise. Kungas stayed him with a hand on the shoulder.
“Remember, Kujulo. Prisoners. As many as we can get—especially the ones who’re manning the cannons. We’ll need them later.”
Kujulo nodded. An instant later, he was gone.
The other troop leaders did not wait for Kungas’ orders to start organizing the small army for an assault. Kungas did not bother to oversee their work. He had hand-picked the officers for this expedition and had complete confidence in them. He simply spent the time studying the fortress. Trying to determine, as best he could, the most likely internal lay-out of the structure.
Despite the slackness of its guards, the fortress itself was impressive. A simple square in design, the walls were thick, well-cut stone, rising thirty feet from the hilltop. The corners were protected by round towers rising another ten feet above the battlements. Two similar round towers anchored the gatehouse guarding the entrance. Along with the usual merlons and embrasures, the battlements also sported machicolations—enclosed stone shelves jutting a few feet out from the walls, with slots through which projectiles or boiling water could be dropped on besiegers below. The open embrasures were further strengthened by the addition of wooden shutters, which could be closed to shield against missiles.