“Since it started. Call it almost two hours.”
Tavi nodded. “We’ll need him fresh and in charge when we fall back, wouldn’t you say?”
“Definitely,” Magnus said. “The First Spear has more experience than anyone on the field.”
“Anyone on our side of it, anyway,” Tavi muttered.
“Eh? What’s that?”
“Nothing,” Tavi sighed. “All right. I’m going to order him down. Get some food into him and make sure he’s ready for nightfall.”
Magnus gave Tavi a wary look. “Can you handle them up there on your own?”
“I’ve got to get in the mud, too,” Tavi replied. He squinted up at the wall. “Where’s the standard?”
Magnus glanced up at the walls. “It had been burned and muddied pretty thoroughly. I’m having a new one made, but it won’t be ready for a few more hours.”
“The burned one is just fine,” Tavi said. “Get it for me.”
“I’ll put it on a new pole, at least.”
“No,” Tavi said. “Saris blood is on the old one. That will do.”
Magnus shot Tavi a sudden grin. “Bloodied, dirty but unbroken.”
“Just like us,” Tavi agreed.
“Very good, sir. I’ll send it up with Sir Ehren.”
“Thank you,” Tavi said. Then he stopped and put a hand on Magnus’s shoulder, and said, more quietly. “Thank you, Maestro. I don’t think I’ve said it yet. But I enjoyed our time at the ruins. Thank you for sharing it with me.”
Magnus smiled at Tavi and nodded. “It’s a shame you’re showing an aptitude for military command, lad. You’d have been a fine scholar.”
Tavi laughed.
Then Magnus saluted, turned, and hurried off.
Tavi made sure his helmet was seated snugly and hurried up onto the battlements, making his way down the lines of crouched legionares, bearing shields, bows, and buckets of everything from more pitch to simple, scalding water. He deftly made his way through the fighting, not jostling or interfering with any of the men, and found the First Spear, bellowing orders ten yards down the wall from the gates, where the Canim were attempting to get more climbing lines-these of braided leather and rope, not chain-while their companions below showered the walls with rough spears and simple, if enormous, stones.
“Crows take it! “ Marcus bellowed. “You don’t have to stick your fool head up to cut a line. Use your knife, not your sword.”
Tavi crouched and, while he waited for Marcus to finish bellowing, drew his knife and sawed swiftly through a braided line attached to a hook that landed near him. “Let’s keep the hooks, too, Tribune,” Tavi added. “Not throw them back out to be reused against us.” Tavi checked the courtyard below, then tossed the hook down.
“Captain!” shouted one of the legionares, and a round of shouts of greeting went up and down the walls.
Valiar Marcus checked over his shoulder and saw Tavi there. He gave him a brisk nod and banged a gauntlet to his breastplate in salute. “You all right, sir?”
“Our Tribune Medica set me right,” Tavi said. “How’s the weather?”
A thrown stone from below clipped the crest of the First Spear’s helmet, and the steel rang for a second. Marcus shook his head and crouched a little lower. “If the sun was out, we’d still be fighting in the shade,” he said a moment later, teeth flashing in a swift, fighting grin. “Two or three of them gained the wall once, but we pushed them back down. We burned down six more rams. They aren’t trying that one anymore.”
“Not until it gets dark,” Tavi said.
The First Spear gave him a shrewd look, and nodded. “By then, it shouldn’t matter.”
“We hold,” Tavi said. “Until they bring the regulars in.”
Valiar Marcus stared at him for a moment, then made a sour face and nodded. “Aye. It’ll cost us, sir.”
“If we can break their regulars, it could be worth it.”
The grizzled soldier nodded. “True enough. We’ll see to it, then, Captain.”
“Not you,” Tavi said. “You’ve been here long enough. I want you to sit down, get a meal in you, some drink. I need you fresh for sundown.”
The First Spear’s jaw set, and for a second Tavi thought he was going to argue.
Then a shout went up down the wall, and Tavi looked to see Ehren hurrying toward them down the wall-and though the little Cursor kept his head down, he bore the blackened standard upright, and the men cheered to see it.
The First Spear looked from the men to the standard to Tavi and nodded. “Use your head,” he said. “Trust your centurions. Don’t take any chances. We got another veteran cohort coming in five minutes to relieve this one.”
“I will,” Tavi said. “See Magnus. He’s got something ready for you.”
Marcus nodded, and the pair exchanged a salute before the old soldier made his way back down the wall, keeping his head down. Ehren hurried to Tavi’s side, keeping the standard high.
The attack continued without slacking, and Tavi checked in with each of the two centurions on the wall-both veterans, both worried about their men. Tavi saw a number of legionares breathing hard. A man went down, struck on the helmet by a stone almost as large as Tavi’s head. The cry for a medico went up. Tavi seized the man’s shield and blocked the crennel with it, hiding the medico as he hurried to the fallen man. A spear struck against the shield, and a moment later another stone struck it so hard that it slammed back into Tavi’s helmeted head hard enough to make him see stars, but then another legionare stepped into position with his own shield, and the fight went on.
It was terrifying, but at the same time it had become an experience oddly akin to an afternoon of heavy labor back at his old home on the steadholt. Tavi moved steadily along the wall, from position to position, encouraging the men and watching for any change in behavior from their foes. After what seemed almost an hour, fresh troops arrived to relieve the legionares, and the men on the wall switched out smoothly, one crennel at a time, with their replacements. And the battle went on.
Twice, the Canim raiders managed to get a number of hooks up into locations where a barrage of stones had disrupted the defenses, but both times Tavi was able to signal Crassus and his Knights Aeris to deliver a burst of pain and confusion to the enemy, delaying them in turn until the Aleran defense could solidify again.
Against the raiders, the legionares’ archery had considerably greater effect. The wild troops were not nearly as disciplined as the regulars, which slowed them down considerably as they struggled to work together. Their armor was also much lighter, where they had any at all, and arrows that struck and inflicted injuries were almost more useful to the defense than outright kills. Wounded Canim thrashed and screamed and had to be carried away from the fighting by a pair of their comrades, vastly slowing the pace of whatever operation they’d been attempting, whereas the dead were simply left where they fell.
The Canim dead numbered in the hundreds, and in places the corpses lay so thick that the Canim had been forced to stack them in piles, like cordwood-piles that they then used for shelter from enemy arrows. Even so, Tavi knew, they could afford the losses far more easily than the Alerans. As far as Sari was concerned, Tavi thought, their deaths would simply reduce the number of hungry mouths to feed. If thev could kill any Alerans while they died, so much the better.
And then it happened. The legionares on station began switching out with the next unit in the rotation, one with a much higher concentration of green recruits. A particularly thick shower of rocks were thrown up from the base of the wall, lobbed up on a high arc to come almost straight down upon the defenders. The stones wouldn’t hit with the same killing force as those hurled directly at a target, but they were so large that they hardly needed more than a few feet to fall to attain enough speed to be dangerous to even an armored legionare.
Tavi was about twenty feet away when it happened, and he clearly heard a bone snapping, just before the injured men began screaming.