A gangplank was lowered over the side. Alexandros led his men down it, rapidly fanning out. As per his orders, half his twenty-man detachment carried repeating crossbows, while the rest were equipped similar to their captain with swords and shields. Alexandros led his men northward along the rocky peninsula. The second group of airmen manned the light field pieces and formed a protective cordon around the airship. The sounds of waves crashing against the cliff competed with the ragged footfalls of his men as they scrabbled over the rough terrain.
“Move, move, move!” Alexandros cried out as his men approached the small group of buildings at the center of the island. For a moment, he wondered if the town had been deserted, or if there really were no raiders and they were approaching innocent townsfolk. That thought evaporated when arrows arced down from the two-story tower that overlooked the cliff.
“Shields up!” he called out, and his men moved together, frantically trying to create a shield wall. The rough terrain hampered their movements, and the wall was incomplete as the arrows fell amongst them. Fortunately, the arrows were few and most missed the airmen. Only one cadet went down with an arrow through his arm, hissing and cursing at the top of his lungs.
“Get in formation! Now!” Alexandros bawled at them, and they finally moved into correct position, shields covering each other and their downed comrade. A louder twang from the tower saw a large bolt launched off the top and falling just to their right.
“If he can move, he can keep up,” Alexandros called out to the medico, a man seconded from the ship’s infirmary. The medico nodded, then hauled the bleeding man to his feet.
“Advance!” The cadets moved faster over the broken ground. “We’ll take the tower, then explore the rest of the island!” Alexandros yelled to his men. He urged them onwards, desperate to get out of the range of that artillery piece.
They approached the tower, the stone structure dwarfing the small, sunken huts that made up the rest of the village. Alexandros detailed men to explore each hut, but they found nothing.
“They must all be in the tower, sir,” an aide said.
Alexandros was forced to agree. The structure dominated the area, but its only entrance was blocked by a door and was most likely reinforced from the inside.
“Send a messenger back to Cadet Porux. Tell him I want a scorpion here on the double.”
A man ran back across the rough terrain, and in no time at all, Alexandros had his portable artillery. Using his men to shield it as they positioned the weapon, Alexandros was able to observe the tower more closely.
“They appear to have a scorpion or ballista on top of that tower. It’s probably what they used to shoot down the skimmer. It doesn’t appear that they can use it against us, as we are too close. We’ll need to knock out that door quickly, before they can move the artillery piece.”
It must not have the range to hit the ship. But I should have thought about that in advance. Otherwise, the Arcus would have been a juicy, fat target.
The scorpion crew set to work, loading a heavy arrow with a thick length of rope behind it.
“Fire at will!” Alexandros ordered.
The shot lanced out, striking the door with a meaty thud. The thick bolt bit deeply into the wood, getting lodged in the door. Lucky shot!
“Quick! Grab the rope and pull, lads!”
Alexandros’s men pulled hard at the rope, while their comrades kept up a sprinkle of repeater fire on the battlements above the tower. A cry indicated that at least one of their shots had found its mark.
“Great shot!” Alexandros continued to encourage his men.
With a groan, the door burst open, the airmen falling to the ground as the rope went slack. Screams and shouts could be heard inside the tower, and a wave of men charged out of the building.
“Battle lines!” Alexandros shouted in panic as their attackers crossed the short distance from the tower. His repeater-armed men fired desperately into the charging group, bringing down several, trying to stem the tide.
It was no use. The roughly two scores of raiders hit the disorganized lines of the Roman airmen like a wave hitting the beach. The fighting was instantly brutal and intense. Roman swords parried thrusts from flails and short spears. Wicked daggers cut at exposed arms and legs. Alexandros’s worldview shrank to a five-foot-by-five-foot space. He slammed his shield into his opponent, stabbing blindly with his sword. The sword bit deeply into the raider, who howled as he fell.
Alexandros stopped the howl with a downward slash. He turned, managing to intersect an attack from another pirate. The man was scrawny, little more than skin and bones, but wielded his heavy club with great skill. The blast knocked Alexandros backwards, and he tripped on a rocky outcropping.
Stumbling backwards, he stabbed up with his gladius. His attacker easily deflected it, and a return blow glanced off Alexandros’s helm. Head ringing, Alexandros threw himself forward, pushing into the man as they grappled. His opponent suddenly sighed and collapsed. Alexandros, gasping for breath, realized another soldier had saved him.
“Thanks…” he trailed off as another pirate hacked his savior down. Screaming a wordless cry of rage, Alexandros charged. His sword was everywhere, under his opponent’s guard, cutting him over the eye, till the man bled freely in multiple places. Finally, Alexandros crushed his eye socket with the pommel of his sword, and the man collapsed.
Breathing heavily, Alexandros looked around. The pirates were being hacked down, their initial rush beaten back. The few remaining turned to flee and the Romans chased them down ruthlessly. The click-click-click sound of the scorpion firing brought his attention back to the tower. The bolts hammered into the heavy stone battlement, knocking pieces of flagstone to the ground.
“Cadet Eritris, remain with the repeaters and the scorpion. The rest of you, with me!”
Alexandros led his score of men into the tower. The dark interior rapidly expanded as his eyes grew use to the gloom. Yellow candlelight flickered on the walls. The entryway revealed a central staircase that twisted both up and down. Leaving a small party to hold the entryway, Alexandros led the rest up the stairs. They kicked open doorways and ran through sparsely furnished rooms. Finally, they crashed into the top-most level. A ladder led up to a closed trapdoor.
“What do you think the chances are they left it open, sir?”
“Depends on how panicked they are…” Alexandros looked at his men. They were tired, but the adrenaline rush had yet to subside from their systems. “Damar, you take point.”
The largest airman placed his shield on his back and climbed as high as he could on the ladder, resting his back against the trapdoor. Two more men helped hold him in place.
“Three… two… one… go!” Alexandros whispered.
Damar strained against the trapdoor. The veins on his face and neck stood out as he pushed his body against it. There was a popping sound and Damar was propelled upwards, the door’s hinges breaking. Within seconds, the sounds of fighting on the rooftop vanished. Damar stuck his head back down through the opening.
“All clear, sir. You have a flag?”
Alexandros carefully extricated the small imperial flag from under his armor, passing it up to Damar. The cadet disappeared, and a few moments later, cheering could be heard outside. The men inside the tower cheered as well.
Alexandros let them have a few moments of excitement before shushing them. “We still have to find the pilot and figure out how to get down to that cargo ship.”