Blades of the Banished - Robert Ryan Page 0,63

would be as red a dawn as Lanrik had ever seen.

He stood still and erect, showing no sign of his misgivings. At times he hummed some of the old tunes that the Lindrath had taught him, and at others he joked with Arliss. He set an example to the men, and though he did not disguise the size of the battle ahead of them, he let them know that no army, no odds and no sorcery would dismay him.

The southern neared the wall as dusk fell. Vast it was; a black thing of serried ranks, proud horsemen, cruel elugs and massive lethrin. And at its head were shazrahads, bearded old men, grim and fierce to look upon. And before even them, seven elùgroths.

“It could be worse,” Aranloth said. “Seven is many, but their power would have been the greater with Elù-Randùr.”

Lanrik saw that the shadow of anguish was still on the lòhren’s face. He gave no answer. Aranloth’s words were true, and it was something to be thankful for. Yet there were still seven sorcerers set against but three lòhrens. And what form of attack would their sorcery take?

The enemy host established a camp and fortified their position. Swiftly they dug embankments and threw up an earth wall, which they palisaded with timber spikes. Picket lines were established, of both elugs and horsemen, to guard the perimeter.

Dark fell and many thousands of fires sprung up, fuelled by the closest of the once great nut groves of Esgallien.

Smoke drifted up to the battlements, and then spread as a cloud over the city. It lingered through the long night, and Lanrik retired to his chamber where he slept restlessly when not woken by army messengers or returning scouts.

Dawn came at last. A breeze started to blow the smoke away, but a blood-red sun rose, a signal that set a stage for battle.

The elug war drums began to beat at the first red rays. A great cry went up from the enemy host:

Ashrak ghùl skar! Skee ghùl ashrak!

Skee ghùl ashrak! Ashrak ghùl skar!

The chant flowed without beginning or end. The drums hastened. Stamping boots thundered, and Lanrik felt the dread of the elug chant:

Death and destruction! Blood and death!

Blood and death! Death and destruction!

He took a deep breath, annoyed by the weight of chain mail that he was unused to wearing. The elugs raced toward the wall. Thousands of them, thicker than autumn’s leaves on the ground.

The Lindrath blew his horn. As the long notes sounded Lanrik drew Conhain’s sword.

“Esgallien!” he cried, giving voice to the battle-cry of the city that had been heard for near on a thousand years, though never yet had it been shouted from the city walls.

The soldiers gave answer. All along the rampart the cry echoed. It released fear. It freed the body for action. The generals said it frightened the enemy, too. Lanrik did not believe that. Not this enemy. Many things were said by those who were supposed to know. Only occasionally were they right.

The elugs streamed to the wall. They carried great ladders, high enough to reach the top of the battlement. They brought also knotted and iron hooked climbing ropes. A thick spray of arrows descended on them. Many of the enemy fell, but the rest came on. In ordered ranks after them approached elug archers. They answered the fire from atop the wall, trying to kill or hinder Esgallien’s archers. Yet their arrows fell short. They were not yet in range.

Like a wave of water the elugs hit the wall. Ladders were thrown up. Ropes were cast high. The noise and tumult of their onslaught was loud.

All about Lanrik, and all along the rampart for hundreds of strides to each side of River Gate, men were busy. Archers fired. Spearmen hurled their ash shafts. Heavy stones were dropped. Axes hacked at rope. Many hands seized, pushed and toppled ladders. The elugs perished in great numbers, but still they came.

The enemy archers drew closer. Their barbed arrows now reached the battlements, and a soldier near Lanrik suddenly stiffened and fell back, an arrow in his neck. He lay still in a pool of his own blood. Swiftly men came from behind and stretchered him way, hastening down the tower stairs. A hospital was established in the city, but no healing would help this man. Others soon came and spread sawdust over the blood.

Ahead, an elug clambered over the rampart, swinging up one arm at a time along a rope. He jumped over the top,