‘This is why you are willing to share them?’
Ignoring the remark, Ozhobar reached down a second sack, considerably heavier than the first. From this he took a handful of what appeared to be small black pebbles. ‘What do you think?’ he asked, passing them to Karis.
‘Better than stones,’ she said. ‘Iron?’
‘Yes. Each ballista will loose around two hundred of these. The trick is to cause a spread that is not too wide. I think I have achieved it. Come and see.’
Together they walked to the rear of the building. In an enclosed area, hidden by high walls yet brilliantly lit by moonlight, there stood a giant crossbow with arms over ten feet wide, built on a criss-crossed timber frame. On each side of the frame were handles, which when turned drew back the giant arms. Striding past the machine, Ozhobar hauled an old door of thick oak to the far wall, resting it there. Then he returned to the machine and, together with Karis, wound the handles until the rope and its sling of leather dropped over a large bronze hook. Locking it into place, Ozhobar filled the leather cup with iron pellets. Having checked the alignments, he walked around to where Karis stood. ‘The door is oak, almost two inches thick.’ With a boyish grin he handed her a small hammer. ‘Strike the release bolt hard. Do it from behind.’
Karis moved to the rear of the machine and struck the
bolt. There was a sudden hiss, then a sharp clanging as the arms swept forward to strike the wooden restraints. Almost immediately came a series of small thunderclaps as the iron shot smashed into the door. Ozhobar ambled over to the ruined wood.
‘Well?’ he asked, as Karis joined him. The door was peppered with deep holes that in many places had completely pierced the wood; in the centre it was torn apart, ripped to tinder. Ozhobar grinned. ‘You like it?’
‘It is incredible! What kind of killing range?’
‘Against the Daroth? Who can tell? Though I would guess at around fifty feet. After that the momentum will start to slacken. Fifty down to twenty-five would be the optimum.’
‘Why not inside twenty-five feet?’ she asked.
‘Oh, it will still kill, but the spread will be small.’ He pointed to the door. ‘As you can see, at a range of only about fifteen feet the pellets struck in a rough circle of … what? . . . around four feet. That equates with one Daroth. But at fifty feet the circle of death will be much greater.’
‘How many ballistae will we have?’
‘That depends on how long the Daroth wait. If we can get five more days I can have three by the northern gate, two others ready for swift transportation across the city.’
‘We will, I believe, have a few days,’ she said. Something in her voice caught his attention, and he stared intently at her.
‘You . . . instituted the plan?’
‘Yes. The scout has not returned.’
‘This troubles you,’ he said softly.
‘Would it not trouble you? I have no qualms about sending soldiers to their deaths, but this time I had to
lie, to deceive. He was a dull man, but I don’t doubt he deserved better than to be betrayed by his general.’
‘You chose him because he was a careless man. Therefore it could be argued that his own carelessness killed him.’
‘Yes, I could argue that – but it wouldn’t be true. I think it will buy us time, though not much. It won’t be long before they capture another scout, or get someone close enough to our walls to read another mind.’
‘Five days. That is all we need.’
Ozhobar covered the ballista with a tarpaulin and led Karis back to the warmth of the forge. ‘Did you overcome the recoil problem on the catapult?’ she asked him.
‘Of course. I weighted the cross timbers. It is a little less manoeuvrable now, but still accurate. Necklen has mastered the machine, and his crew operate well.’
‘Let us hope so,’ said Karis.
‘Another biscuit?’
She smiled. ‘No. I’d better be getting back. I still have work to do.’