Gabriella spat in her own palm and gripped Kannis' hand.
"Your right arm had better have a stronger swing that it has a grip." They both laughed.
Along with Erak, Crowe and Kannis, Gabriella looked the town over. She had now donned a pot-shaped helmet, as had Erak and her surcoat was filthy with dirt and Goblin blood from the fight at the Huntress.
"Not very defensible," she murmured. "No curtain wall, four roads into town, and flat ground all the way to the escarpment."
"If I was you," Kannis said. "I'd try having as many people as possible fall back to the church. It's the strongest building, which isn't saying much, but at least the defenders inside can't be outflanked."
"They'd just be swarmed over. Or surrounded and besieged." Gabriella's mind raced. She wasn't a general, she was just a servant of God in a military order. She was a good fighter and a good priest, she hoped, but there was a difference between interpreting a man's Confession, or fighting off a Brotherhood fanatic, and handling a large field of battle with many participants. "What about the river?"
"Gobboes may not like to bathe much but they can swim and there are several bridges." Kannis frowned. "Perhaps if we could dismantle the them… "
Gabriella eyed the adobe buildings all around the church square. They were shops and houses and craftsmen's workplaces. None of them were much different than any of the damaged buildings on the outskirts of town. Half of those would be as likely to fall down as be repaired she thought.
"We build a perimeter."
Crowe looked at her disbelievingly. "What with? By the time you've cut and shaped enough trees, you'll be in a gobbo's pot. In fact you'll have been in his pot, and be in his privy by then."
A glint showed in her eye. "With those buildings that got damaged last night."
A group of oxen heaved and a burned-out potter's shop jerked sideways and tumbled into a shower of dust and bricks. Townspeople rushed though the dust, carrying chunks of broken wall between them, back to the church plaza, where they tossed them onto sections of the rough embankment that was beginning to form.
A loud, dry, clattering was rising from all around as bricks, stones, and pieces of timber were tossed onto the line of debris.
Erak Brand shook his head. "You're out of your mind, Gabe. That's not going to be much of a wall. I hate to agree with that scum Crowe, but he has a point about that."
"It's not supposed to be a wall. It's supposed to be a line."
"They won't pay much attention to that."
Gabriella's mind was racing. "No… And I don't want them to. I want them to just think it's a little raised embankment."
"They'll just hop straight over it. You know that. It won't stop anyone for more than a second."
Gabriella nodded. "And they'll be much easier targets for archery practice when they do cross that line. Then there's a clear killing ground on all sides of the church. Anything that makes it past the wall is an arrow-magnet."
Erak looked back at the rubble dubiously, clearly trying to see some value in it and failing. "There's so much cloth and dry timber that your wall will go up like a tinderbox from the slightest — "
"That's the idea," she interrupted.
"What?"
"How many goblins are there who aren't afraid of fire? When that wall's piled nice and high with their dead, we fire it."
"A burning barrier? The timberwood and cloth will take fire, but how do we ignite it?"
"You could always dismantle the pipes for the gibbets," Crowe suggested with a smirk. "Lay them around the perimeter and pump the naphtha through them. Of course you'd have difficulty putting it all back together again afterwards."
"What sort of idiot would think that was a good idea?" Erak snapped. "Aside from how long it would take, there isn't that much piping in the system."
Crowe grinned. "Well, then you could always stuff the barrier with rags and blankets soaked in the naphtha. Maybe spirits from the inn and taverns. That should do the job." He winked at Gabriella. "Just like at the Huntress. Booze, lantern, roast gobboes all round."
Gabriella nodded. "That'll do to start and then corpse-fat will keep the flames going, and they'll be twice as reluctant to try coming through it."
Kurt Stoll was completely at a loss as to what was happening. He had slept for over an entire day, and when he finally did awaken, he found that his church was full of mercenaries and townspeople. It almost felt like being a proper Enlightened One again, the way his life had been before Warrigan came and introduced him to a type of fiery alcohol they served in Allantia.
He had drunk himself insensible that night and woken the next morning to find a grinning Warrigan and a smug tattooist.
"Welcome to the Brotherhood," Warrigan had said.
Stoll had been equal parts furious and terrified. He knew that, even under the influence of drink or drug, he would never have lost his faith. Warrigan had proved to him that he didn't have to lose his faith; he just had to do occasional favours, or his superiors would be given just enough suspicious information about him to make them look at him more closely. When they did, of course, they would find the linked circles of the Brotherhood, which Warrigan had had tattooed onto Stoll's shoulder blade.
That would be enough to send him to a gibbet.
So, Stoll had done the favours he was asked and he was half-sure that the last one had given himself away to Brand and DeZantez. Only half-sure, though, and they seemed to think he had been telling the truth about why he went to Warrigan's place.
Young Collin, who had disappeared from his cell, could have spilled the proverbial beans, of course, but Stoll doubted the knights would ever find his body; Stoll had buried it deep.
He had no idea what had happened afterwards, but he knew Warrigan was gone, and suddenly the town was under threat from goblins. That was something about which he could feel solidarity with the townspeople and the Swords. Goblins didn't discriminate on the basis of politics or faith.
Gabriella, Erak, and another man with a white ponytail and burned skin appeared in front of him, as he walked around his church, offering words of comfort.
"Enlightened One." As always, he expected one of the Knights to arrest or attack him, but Gabriella merely smiled. "We're planning the defence of town and I'd like to ask your help."
"I'll wield a sword or spear against those creatures, if that's what — "
"I'd like you to act as lookout, from the bell tower. From there you can direct what archery we'll have."
"Of course," Stoll agreed. Here was a chance to show his true loyalty.
"What about me?" Crowe asked, as the trio, now joined by Stoll, continued back out to the plaza. "I can head things up at the church, keep the naphtha brewing."
"Not under my roof." Stoll snapped tightly.
"Besides," Gabriella added, "I want you out there with me."
"What? Shoulder to shoulder, against the hordes of darkness? You've mistaken me for some other bloke."
"In front of me, where I can keep an eye on you. Don't take this the wrong way, but I don't want you at my back."
Crowe waved the insult away. "No offence taken. I wouldn't want me at my back either."
Erak nudged her and whispered. "We should lock him up."
"I know. But smuggling isn't as offensive as apostasy and treason. And he's a good enough fighter that we can use him."
As Gabriella outlined her strategy she found her confidence growing. Win or lose, they'd put up a good fight and she knew that Erak and Kannis and her men, would do likewise. She was proud of them all, and she hoped the Lord would be as proud.