Blood Tempered: Book 1 of the Sword Monk Saga

Blood Tempered: Part 22

"They march pretty," said Augin. "All in neat rows and such. Never could get the hang of that, myself."

Korbo grunted, staring out at the Roumnan army that was fast appearing out of the sparse woods to the north of Thunderhead. His fingers drummed on the weathered stone of the battlement. His face looked as though he'd just taken a bite of something going rancid. He was counting.

"Ten to one," he muttered.

"Eh?" said Augin.

"'Against an opponent occupying a fortified position, it is necessary to bring to bear a force numbering ten to their every one,'" he replied. "Or so said Olse in 'The Making of War'. As I remember it."

"Wait, you can read?"

Korbo ignored him. "Looks like they've got about four or five thousand, so if Olse was right, we might just beat them back."

"What about sappers?"

"Olse includes sappers."

"What about siege engines?" asked Mung.

"Depends, but their necessary numbers go down. Just hope they don't have any, because this place is a tottering wreck."

"Well then I hope that big bastard they're hauling in is just a really long, fat tent pole," said Mung, pointing.

Korbo followed Mung's finger. Emerging from the woods on a long, purpose-built wagon pulled by a team of twenty horses was what could only be a disassembled trebuchet.