Waylander by David A. Gemmell

There had been time to cut and run – as Jonat pointed out – but by then Gellan had become obsessed with bringing the supplies to Egel.

He had hoped there would be fewer than two hundred Vagrians opposing him and had turned the wagons west to the ruined fort at Masin. Fifty men could hold the fort for perhaps three days against a force of two hundred. In the meantime he had sent three riders to Skultik requesting urgent aid.

But Gellan’s luck was running true to form. His scouts reported that the force opposing him was five hundred and the chances were they would be overrun on the first assault.

The scouts had been sent to Egel and no one at the fort knew of the enemy strength. Gellan felt like a traitor for not informing Sarvaj, but morale was a delicate beast at best.

‘We can hold,’ said Gellan at last, ‘even if they have more men than we think.’

“The western wall is rotten. I think an angry child could push it in,’ said Sarvaj. ‘The wagons don’t make much of a barrier.’

‘They’ll do.’

‘So you think two hundred?’

‘Maybe three,’ admitted Gellan.

‘I hope not.’

‘Remember the manual, Sarvaj – and I quote, “Good fortifications can be held against an enemy ten times the strength of the defending force.” ‘

‘I don’t like to argue with a superior officer, but didn’t the manual say “five times”?’

‘We’ll check it when we reach Skultik.’

‘Jonat is complaining again. But the men are glad to be under cover; they have a fire going in the Keep. Why don’t you go inside for a while?’

‘You’re getting concerned about my old bones?’

‘I think you should rest. Tomorrow could get a little tense.’

‘Yes, you are right. Keep the sentries alert, Sarvaj.’

Til do my best.’

Gellan walked to the steps, then returned. ‘There are over five hundred Vagrians,’ he said.

‘I guessed that,’ said Sarvaj. ‘Get some sleep. And watch out for those steps – I say a prayer every time I mount them!’

Gellan made his way gingerly down the steps and across the cobbled courtyard to the Keep. The hinges of the gates had rusted through, but the soldiers had wedged the doors in place. Gellan squeezed through and made his way to the huge hearth. The fire was welcome and he warmed his hands against the blaze. The men had fallen silent as he entered, then one of them – Vanek – approached him.

‘We lit a fire for you, sir. In the eastern room. There’s a pallet bed if you wanted to catch some sleep.’

‘Thank you, Vanek. Jonat, will you join me for a moment?’

The tall, bony Jonat pushed himself to his feet and followed the officer. Sarvaj had been complaining again, he guessed, preparing his arguments. Once inside the small room, Gellan removed his cloak and breastplate and stood before the crackling fire.

‘You know why I promoted you?’ Gellan asked.

‘Because you thought I could handle it?’ ventured Jonat.

‘More than that. I knew you could. I trust you, Jonat.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ said Jonat uneasily.

‘So let me tell you – and I want you to keep it to yourself for tonight – that there are at least five hundred Vagrians ranged against us.’

‘We’ll never hold.’

‘I hope that we will, for Egel needs these supplies. Three days is all it will take. I want you to hold the western wall. Pick twenty men – the best archers, the finest swordsmen – but hold it!’

‘We should have cut and run; we still could.’

‘Egel has four thousand men and they are short of equipment, food and medicines; the people of Skarta are going hungry to supply them. But it cannot go on. I checked the wagons tonight. You know there are over twenty thousand shafts, spare bows, swords and spears; also salt meats, dried fruits and more than old hundred thousand silver pieces.’

‘One hundred … it’s their pay!’

‘Exactly. But with it Egel can open trade links even with the Nadir.’

‘No wonder they sent five hundred men to recover it. I’m surprised they didn’t send a thousand.’