Drawing a shortsword, she walked through them towards the walls. Only a handful of men remained by the ramparts, and these were ghost-faced and trembling. Rayvan mounted the steps, fear growing as she reached the battlements.
Ananais staggered towards her, holding out his hand which she accepted gratefully.
‘They can’t beat us!’ she said through gritted teeth, her eyes wide.
The Skoda men turned and saw her standing defiantly at the centre. Gathering their swords they moved forward again, pushing against the wall of fear before them.
Decado and The Thirty fought back against the force, holding a shield around Rayvan.
And then the fear vanished!
The Skoda warriors surged back to the walls, angry now. Shamed by the courage of the warrior woman who led them, they stood their ground, determination on every face.
The drum-beat stopped. A bugle sounded.
With a savage roar ten thousand warriors surged forward.
Lake and his workers hauled back the bowstrings on the two weapons, filling their bowls with filed lead shot. At fifty paces Lake lifted his arm. At forty he dropped it and tugged the release. The arm whipped forward. The second machine let fly a moment later.
The first ranks of the enemy were scythed down and a great cheer rose from the defenders. Taking up their bows, the Skoda men sent volley after volley of arrows into the charging warriors. But they were heavily armoured and they held their shields before them.
Ladders thudded against the wall and grappling-hooks sailed over the ramparts.
‘Now it begins!’ said Ananais.
The first warrior to reach the ramparts died with Ananais’ sword in his throat. As he fell, he dislodged the man below him.
And then they were over and the battle became hand-to-hand.
Decado and The Thirty fought together as a unit to the right of Ananais. Not one warrior gained the ramparts there.
But to the left the invaders forged an opening. Ananais charged among them, cutting and slashing, hacking and slaying. Like a lion among wolves he hammered his way through their ranks, and the Skoda men gathered behind him roaring their defiance. Slowly they pushed back the soldiers. At the centre Rayvan plunged her blade into a warrior’s chest, but as he fell he lashed out, his sword slicing her cheek. She stumbled as another man ran at her and Lake, seeing his mother’s danger, hurled his dagger to hit the assailant hilt-first, behind the ear. He half-fell and dropped his sword, whereupon Rayvan finished him with a two-handed cut to the neck.
‘Get away from here, mother!’ yelled Lake.
Decado, hearing the cry, left The Thirty and ran to Rayvan, helping her to her feet.
‘Lake is right,’ he said. ‘You are far too important to risk yourself here!’
‘Behind you!’ she yelled, as a warrior leapt over the wall with axe raised. Decado spun on his heel and lunged. His sword skewered the man’s chest – and snapped. Two more warriors climbed into view and Decado dived forward, scooping up the fallen axe and rolling to his feet. He blocked an overhead cut, then back-handed the warrior from the wall. The second man lanced his blade into Decado’s shoulder but Lake, running in behind, hammered his sword through the attacker’s skull.
The attackers drew back.
‘Get the wounded from the wall,’ shouted Ananais. ‘They’ll return at any moment.’
Ananais moved along the wall, hastily checking the wounded and dead. At least a hundred men would fight no more. Ten more attacks like this and they were finished.
Galand made his way from the far left, meeting Ananais at the centre.
‘We could do with a thousand more men and a higher wall,’ said Galand sourly.
‘They did well. Losses will be fewer next time. The weakest of our men fell during this assault.’
‘Is that all they are to you?’ snapped Galand. ‘Units with swords. Some good, some bad?’
‘There is no time for this, Galand.’
‘You make me sick!’
‘I know Parsal’s death . . .’
‘Leave me alone!’ said Galand, pushing past him.
‘What was that about?’ asked Thorn, climbing the rampart steps. A bandage had been wrapped around a shallow cut to his head.