Walking steadily out from the shade of the tree, he made his way directly toward the gathering troops at the crest. With a last mental calculation, he took his place in front of the two groups, alongside the young lord Pelian. Taking his flint and tinder from his belt pouch, he struck a fire among some moss and bracken on an old milestone. “Here’s what we’re going to do, people. You archers need to keep this fire fed. In a couple of minutes I want you to dip in your oil flasks and prepare to fire burning arrows into the siege towers. I want a concentrated barrage on the tower we can see from here. I want you to make sure the fucker’s burning properly before we move on to the next one. Once it’s truly on fire and they’re having to sort out the crew to put the fires out, we’ll move you onto the second tower. You’ll then be left with a small defence unit as the rest of us move in to make sure the first tower stays down.
There was a chorus of nods around the general and a couple of the crossbowmen bent to collect twigs and foliage to add to the small fire on the milestone. Kiva watched in trepidation for another minute or so until the entire group settled and units stopped manoeuvring on the road. He gave a wave to the small group of heralds at the front of the column. Seconds later a complex trumpet call blared out and the infantry units began to move over the hill. Around Kiva the archers, their missiles doused in oil, dipped the tip into the flame and watched the arrows and bolts leap to life, wreathed in fire and deadly. Stepping a couple of paces forward, they could see over the crest of the hill and spotted the siege tower jammed up against the powerful walls of Silvas’ fortress-like palace. Without waiting for the order, the unit released their bolts and arrows and the various missiles thudded into the siege tower with a crash, followed by a deafening roar as the flames immediately took the dry wood. The men inside filled every floor, with the top group fighting the defenders for a means of egress onto the wall. There was a shout of alarm and burning bodies fell from the upper levels.
“Good! Now step around to the left until you can see the next siege tower, start another fire and do the same.” He looked down at the young man. “Lord Pelian: you have to protect these archers at all costs. If the second tower goes and the battering ram’s still moving, start them on that. Otherwise they can pick their targets.”
The young lord gave a disappointed nod and gathered the twenty or so men that Kiva hadn’t waved aside to move along with the archers. Kiva started to jog across the brow of the hill. As the various swordsmen of Pelian’s unit fell in behind him, Balo jogged ahead with him.
“Just like old times, eh general?”
Kiva turned to look at his old comrade. “Yes and no.” He turned to look at the men as he ran. “Fight as much as you need to to get through them. Don’t stop to pose or play; just get through them and keep going for that siege tower. When we get there, we just need to make sure it’s out of commission. If you see anyone carrying a bucket of water, make sure he dies. If we all get in there, we need to tip the damn thing over somehow. It’s been guided into position with ropes and if they’re not burned away we should be able to use those to tip it.”
A vague chorus of agreement went up behind him and he paid no further attention to the men with him as he and Balo led almost a hundred men down the hill and charged the rear lines of the attacking force.
At first there was a silence; the silence born of the brain not being able to comprehend the tremendous noise assailing it. As Pelian’s men became accustomed to the din around them, sound crept back in, distant at first and then louder and closer until the crash of steel on steel and the screams of the wounded and dying became impossible to ignore. With a fury born of absolute pride and belief, Kiva’s unit fell on their enemy. Kiva was aware of men around him hacking, slashing and stabbing, trying to cleave a path through the lines. Their attack was served well by the fact that they hit the enemy from behind and lord Tilis’ army was ill-prepared to defend against attacks from that direction. Crushed as they were in their efforts to push forward against the walls of Silvas’ palace, the enemy were at a tremendous disadvantage, often failing to turn in time to block the blows crashing down on them. Kiva was familiar with the pure butchery that came with a surprise attack and his men cleaved limbs and severed heads and torsos as they moved like a harvest through the corn of the enemy ranks. Some of Pelian’s men who’d obviously not served long in the force and had received little training from Sithis had to pause to vomit copiously among spilled livers and intestines and hacked-off limbs. Kiva ignored them. Such men would become used to the horrors of battle or would soon desert. In that case, the army could well do without them.
Kiva glanced over his shoulder as one of his men went down in a spray of blood, an unnoticed blow from one of the more astute and prepared defenders catching him in the neck. Kiva thrust out with his own blade and neatly skewered the offender, turning back just in time to duck a sweeping blow that threatened to remove his scalp and it was then he realised what a mistake he’d made getting personally involved in the fight. A sudden pain hit him so hard he doubled over further. Balo noticed the general bent double beside him and ignoring his own opponent, blocked the blow of the man attacking Kiva before delivering a second, sweeping blow that cut from shoulder to shoulder, carving a deep line across the man’s chest.
Balo bellowed at the men. “Make for the tower and tip it!” before reaching out and gripping Kiva by the upper arm. The general straightened slowly, wiping his mouth, but not before Balo had noticed the smear of blood. The general had coughed up dark blood and was trying to hide it. “Kiva, you bloody fool!”
Caerdin pushed his old ally away and wiped his mouth further, removing as much as he could of the blood, though more welled into his mouth. He stood as straight as he could and gripped Balo’s shoulder for support. “Lead them. You know how to do it and I don’t give a shit whether you think you’re right for it or not.”
Balo fought a cascade of conflicting emotions and tried to hold Kiva steady. “You need looking after, general!”
“Fuck that!!” Kiva waved his sword loosely and weakly toward the tower. “The men need you. I’ll see you afterwards.”
Balo took a long, steady glance at his commander and then nodded curtly, if unhappily. Letting go carefully, he watched in grim silence as Kiva once more doubled over and a fresh gobbet of black blood fell from his mouth. Tearing himself away, he turned to the fray and cried “make for the ropes!”
Kiva continued to stand as he was for a while, clutching at the hilt of his sword with white knuckles as the pain roared and seared its way through his abdomen. He coughed once more and a further stream of dark blood poured forth.
“I can’t die here,” a voice muttered nearby.
“What?” Kiva barked, glancing up as best he could. A man stood in front of him with a vicious gash from his right shoulder down to his hip, his right arm flapping helplessly around. Kiva squinted through the pain. The man wore a green uniform.
“Who’s your lord?”
The man staggered slightly and his blood ran down to mingle with Kiva’s growing pool on the floor. “I’m Geraldus’ man. A sergeant.”
There was a moment of silence.
“And I think I know who you are.”
Kiva sighed. “Then you’ve got to kill me where we are.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, general. I’ve no sword and I can’t lift my arm or turn my head. I’m done here.” He sighed deeply and winced. “Possibly done for altogether.”
Kiva nodded. “I can’t be. Too much more to do.”
He coughed once more and was surprised and disheartened at the quantity of life’s blood that ran from his mouth. “Help me get back to our line and you’ll be treated.”