brigades to move so quickly through the mountains.
So Thelonius was not here, but what about Edyon? Was he up there looking down on March? March was sure Edyon wouldn’t be involved in any fighting—Edyon was so hope-less he wouldn’t even try. All March could do was hope that the Calidorian army and the castle wall would do their jobs.
Rashford came over to report to Harold. “Your Highness. There’s no sign of opposition outside the castle. We’ve been through the city. It’s mostly empty.”
“Everyone’s withdrawn into the castle. They’re like women—too frightened to come outside. Well, we’ll just have to go in after them.”
Harold positioned the brigades around the castle and tasked them with finding a way up onto the ramparts. The boys set to work using grappling hooks and ropes attached to spears. But, even with the power of the boys’ throws, few hooks reached the ramparts and, although the spears did reach, most were quickly thrown back down. The Calidorian guards were lined along the castle battlements and seemed to be having fun, even shouting encouragement to the boys who were climbing the few ropes that stayed in place, and allowing them to get partway up the ropes before cutting them. All the while, arrows rained down on the boys—sometimes in thick volleys, then nothing, then just a few arrows aimed at boys throwing spears, followed by another thick volley. Although the boys had shields, some were hit.
The night wore on and Rashford reported to Harold that many boys had been hit by arrows; some had healed with the smoke, but seven Bulls had been killed, along with forty other boys. “The Calidorian tactics are working nicely for them,” he complained. “They’re sitting up there laughing at us.” Rashford looked angry and added, “Eventually we’ll run out of smoke or boys.”
“And have you a better plan, Bull leader?”
Rashford shook his head. “No, Your Highness. My apologies, I shouldn’t let my emotions get the better of me.”
“No, you shouldn’t. Now do something useful and bring me the leader of the Wasps.”
The boy, Tiff, soon joined them. He was smaller and younger than Harold, with thick black hair and deep-set eyes.
“Your boys are the best climbers, Tiff. Can any of them climb that wall?”
Tiff squinted at it. “There are narrow fingerholds in the stone. If it’s like that the whole way up, it’s possible, but it ain’t easy. Not many could do it. Perhaps me, Ned, and Shardly.”
“Then take them and do it while it’s dark. We’ll withdraw, make them think we’ve given up for the night. You go to the south side. Find a way to the battlements, and once you’re there, hold the position. We’ll throw ropes up to you on spears. You’ll have to defend the position while the rest of your brigade join you. It’s an opportunity for the Wasps to show the other brigades that you are the best.”
Tiff grinned. “We’ll show ’em.”
“Yes, you will have the glory. The Bulls are not so brave as you.” Harold gestured to Rashford. “Their leader is quaking with fear.” Rashford looked aghast, but raised his chin as Harold continued: “You can take your Bulls on the night patrol. Or is that too frightening, Bull leader?”
“My boys can do that, Your Highness.”
“Ensure the Calidorians don’t counterattack from the castle. Check again that they’ve no troops hidden in the surrounding area.”
Rashford bowed his head. “Yes, Your Highness.” And he turned and ran back to his brigade.
The boys withdrew out of range of the arrows and set up camps, lighting fires, eating food stolen from the homes in Calia. It appeared that they didn’t expect the Wasps to succeed in their assault, at least not anytime soon. But Harold couldn’t rest; he went to watch the Wasps, and Sam and March, of course, had to go with him.
The three climbers were each trying different routes but all seemed to be stuck at different points about a third of the way up the wall. There was a slight overhang at that level, and getting past it seemed impossible. One boy fell with a faint cry. Harold cursed him for making a noise. The boy wouldn’t make a noise again, though, as the fall had certainly killed him.
Tiff was stretching up past the overhang when his legs slipped. March winced; he didn’t want them to get in, but he didn’t want to watch Tiff die. But then Tiff was moving faster. He’d made it. He’d found a route. The second boy now climbed across