At least two thousand Wolves were advancing on the walls of Morina, but only about half of them would be actually fighting. The others were pushing the towers, the rams, and the wagonloads of material for crossing the moat. A thousand Wolves might not be too many to handle.
Now there were creakings and squealings from behind Blade, to echo the ones in front. The Morinan stone-throwers were coming forward, getting into striking range, Blade lay fiat on his stomach on top of the wall, estimating distances. Another few yards and the siege towers would be good targets.
Trumpets blared and drums rattled and thundered all along the line-of the advancing Wolves. On top of the towers men frantically waved the wolf's-head banners. The next moment everyone was surging toward the wall like an incoming tide, and the moment after that they were in range of the Morinan stone-throwers.
Blade sprang to his feet, waving his ax, signaling frantically to the lookouts for the stone-throwers. He saw them reply, then started signalling to the men who'd been waiting out the bombardment of the wall. They scrambled up the inner face of the wall on ladders and dashed out of the battered houses. Most carried bows, all carried axes or spears.
A stone came arching up out of the city, flew over the wall, and dropped into the moat. Muddy water spouted high, drenching a dozen Wolves and making them dance and swear. Blade laughed. A second stone fell more accurately, missing one of the advancing rams by feet. Then Blade could no longer keep track of the fall of each stone, as the attack reached the walls of Morina.
The wagons of brush and planks came up to the moat, and the archers on the walls opened fire on them. Dozens of Wolves fell as they tried to manhandle long planks and huge bundles of brushwood into place. The archers supporting them fired back, and men fell from the top of the wall. The planks slammed down, and shouting Wolves ran across the rickety bridges, some carrying scaling ladders. Behind these men the brushwood slowly piled up, filling the moat.
Now the rams came on at a run. The man guiding one didn't keep his mind on the job. The ram dashed up to the moat and kept right on going, plunging the leading bearers into the filthy water. They floundered, screaming and choking as they tried to get free of the ram. Slowly and with a horrible inevitability, it tilted forward, pushing them under like a giant hand. The screams and the choking died away, and only a few bubbles came up from under the submerged end of the ram. The bearers at the other end, luckier than their comrades, scrambled out from under the wooden cover and joined the men crossing on the planks.
The other two rams came up to the moat where the brushwood offered them a safe crossing. This did one of them no good. The first bearers were just stepping on to the brushwood when a heavy stone crashed down on the wooden cover. Splinters and planks flew, men screamed, and the ram stopped. Then the bearers began scrambling out from underneath. Blade saw the lucky hit had snapped most of the ropes supporting the iron-headed wooden beam of the ram, letting it sag and break in two. The whole machine was now so much useless lumber.
The third ram was the only one to reach the wall. The iron head began crunching against a section of already cracked stones. Blade could see large chunks coming loose and tumbling down to the ground, or bouncing off the wooden cover. The men on this ram seemed to be tougher than their comrades, and they kept at their work.
Those men would get through, Blade realized. He could only hope the men at the barricades and the archers in the houses could hold them. He had too much to do here on the wall. On either side of him the heads of scaling ladders were sprouting, then the armored heads of Wolf leaders. One rose almost at Blade's feet, turning from side to side as if the man was trying to get his bearings. Blade brought his ax down on the helmet as hard as he could. The Wolf leader threw up his hands and toppled backward off the wall, taking three comrades and the ladder with him.
Another ladder rose beside Blade. He kicked at it and saw it fall backward. The Wolves on it leaped clear and landed safely-for a moment. Two archers fired down at them and one Wolf sprawled on the ground, writhing and kicking until he writhed himself into the moat. The fighting was now so mixed up that the Wolf archers on the ground could not fire safely. The Morinans had no such problem. Anyone coming at them across the ground outside the wall was an enemy, and often a fine target as well.
Another ladder, and another, and a third. The man on the first ladder had his visor open and Blade's ax split apart his sweating face. Blade was turning to the second ladder when someone drove a spear down between it and the wall, then heaved. The man on top of the ladder slashed at the spearman, laying open his unarmored stomach. He gasped and put all his strength into a last desperate heave. The ladder went over backward with a chorus of screams, then the dying spearman toppled off the wall and landed on top of his victims.
Blade was about to attack the third ladder when he heard a gruesome chorus of screams from beyond the moat. Blazing tar from a well-aimed barrel was covering the top of a siege tower with a crown of flames and dripping down the sides. The Wolves hadn't taken the precaution of wetting down the tower's sides or covering them with leather. It was going up like a pile of kindling. Blade saw writhing bodies among the flames on the top, and saw others jump, hair and clothing aflame. He also heard more screams from those unlucky enough to be inside the tower and unable to get out. They went on screaming for quite a while, until one side of the tower cracked open like an eggshell. Flames roared up, curling around the blackening timbers and mercifully drowning out the last of the screams.
With other men than the Wizard's Wolves, Blade might have expected the burning of the tower to be the end of the attack. Few men would come on unshaken by seeing and hearing their comrades roasted alive. But the Wolves were fighting not only for victory but for their own lives. It was kill or be killed for both sides.
So the Wolves came on. A column marched toward the breach in the wall and started scrambling up the tumbled blocks. The footing on the loose stones was so precarious that the leaders in their heavy armor could not climb. The men-at-arms scrambled up, some falling with arrows in them, others pushed back by spears, a few simply losing their balance. Some got through-and then a vast cloud of smoke billowed up, as tar barrels were ignited in their faces. Blade sent a messenger off with orders to the stone-thrower crews, to aim one of their machines at the breach and keep it firing as fast as they could.
Now the second siege tower was crossing the moat. It wobbled and swayed drunkenly as it crossed the precarious bridge of planks on top of brushwood. The archers on top ceased firing, too busy hanging on for dear life. Then the tower was rumbling steadily toward the wall. A tar barrel came smoking down from the sky and Blade held his breath, hoping it would land on the tower. The barrel bounced off the side of the tower, scattering flaming tar over the dead and wounded, then rolled into the moat in a cloud of steam.
Blade could now see where the siege tower was going to reach the wall. The archers on top were firing again and the Wolves on the ground were crowding around. The men on top were pushing out a heavy wooden plank. It swayed in the air as it reached for the wall.
Blade started running toward where the plank would drop. He saw Zemun Bossir running toward the same place from the opposite position. Arrows and bolts whistled around the young nobleman as he ran, but none of them hit him.