But the second enemy machine loosed another shot which thundered against the side of the building, ripping away an entire corner which slid away to crash to the street below.
‘Right three marks!’ shouted Beris. ‘Take her down two more notches.’
Slowly they swung the machine. ‘One shot is all we’ll have,’ said Necklen, trying to keep his voice calm. ‘Make it a good one, boy!’
‘Yes, sir,’ said Beris. Once they had loaded the ball and Gelan had filled it with oil, Necklen ordered the boys from the rooftop. Another huge lead ball soared by them, missing the catapult by inches and destroying the store of pottery ammunition. ‘Get out now!’ shouted Necklen.
The boys ran to the ladders as Necklen slammed the trigger bolt clear. He should have followed them, but he could not resist watching the flight of his last missile. Once again the Daroth loosed a shot. It left their catapult just
as the pottery ball exploded over it, spraying burning oil over the machine. Two Daroth warriors were engulfed, and ran across the hillside like living torches.
‘Yes!’ shouted Necklen, punching the air. ‘Did you enjoy that, you bastards?’
The last Daroth shot hammered into the platform, smashing the catapult. One of the retaining bars burst clear, striking Necklen in the shoulder and spinning him across the rooftop. As his legs slipped over the edge he threw out his hand, scrabbling at an edge of masonry, and clung to it with all his strength.
There was no way back. The old warrior did not possess enough strength in one arm to haul himself to safety. His strength was ebbing away when a face appeared above him and little Beris reached down and grabbed his arm.
‘Let go, you fool! You can’t take my weight. You’ll be dragged over with me.’ But the boy clung on.
‘Gelan is getting … a … rope,’ said Beris. ‘I can hold you till he comes.’
‘Please, boy! Just let go. I couldn’t bear to take you with me.’
‘No, sir,’ said Beris, his freckled face crimson with the effort of holding on. Necklen gripped the ledge more tightly, fighting to stay calm. His fingers were tiring, and his arm began to tremble.
Just then Gelan appeared and threw a loop over Necklen’s head. Pushing his useless left arm through it, he hooked himself to the rope. ‘It is tied to a beam,’ shouted Gelan.
‘Good boy,’ said Necklen. ‘Now let go, Beris, there’s a good lad.’ When Beris did so, Necklen dropped around four feet; but the rope tightened and he dangled there, feeling sick with relief. Moments later three strong men dragged him back to safety.
Necklen grinned at the boys. ‘I hope you never learn to take orders, lads,’ he told them.
‘Yes, sir!’ they chorused, grinning.
But Necklen’s smile faded as he saw the Daroth hauling another catapult over the hills.
As the first of the huge lead balls crashed into the wall beside the gate Vint ordered the troops back. The two blazing Daroth catapults were now oozing thick plumes of black smoke into the sky.
‘What can you see?’ yelled Karis. Vint eased himself up, and stared through the crenellated battlements.
‘Two Daroth legions are massing,’ he shouted. ‘They are moving slowly forward.’
A second lead ball struck the gates, smashing two thick timbers and splitting the giant locking bar. ‘They are coming at a run now,’ yelled Vint. ‘Maybe three thousand of them. The rest are just waiting.’
Another lead shot smashed home, tearing open the gates and rolling ponderously into the avenue beyond. Vint ran for the steps, taking them three at a time, then sprinted down towards a line of wagons stretching across the avenue. Karis, Ozhobar and Tarantio were already there.
Two hundred crossbow-men moved through a gap in the wagons and took up positions in front of them, one line kneeling and the other standing behind. They weren’t going to stop the Daroth, thought Vint. Not 200.
The first of the enemy pushed their way past the ruined gates, saw the crossbow-men, and charged. They came in silence, save for the pounding of their boots on the cobbles. The silence itself chilled Vint. He drew his sabre, knowing that the weapon was useless against the leathery skins of the Daroth, yet feeling better for having it in his hand.