The Chronicles of Mythguard - A Newly Revised Version

Chapter 5

The morning sky was lit by wavy pinks and greens as the sun broke the night sky. Men of all walks of life were preparing for the day ahead. They tied shirt laces, tightened gambesons, plate, chain and leather jerkins, slid on boots and sabatons, checked daggers, swords, axes, bows, and arrows. Barthanax's knights helped each other into their armor, sweating heavily as the heat grew fierce. Thony, although wounded, refused to stay inside the tent when there was a siege to fight, and after many failed arguments and protests he was given a bow, bodkins, and a gambeson with a hauberk to pull over it, as well as his clothes. Grungin again helped Barthanax don his armor, and this time he chose to wear the sallet. Once they were ready they left the tent with Barthanax leading them. Men-at-arms formed organized lines driven by their captains while archers and dwarven crossbowmen grabbed pavises to protect them from any archers within the castle. The catapult crew was ready, though tensions still ran high. It was not a large thing, but Barthanax noticed that the wheel was driven by a metal rod, not a wooden spool, which was unusual given that only trebuchets used the metal rod to crank their ropes. He inquired about it to the lead engineer.

''Well you see your Grace, I had the mechanism changed because you want to break the chains on the gatehouse, not bring it down. So I had them install a trebuchet mechanism which will increase the strength of the catapult tenfold.''

''Won't that make it subject to exploding into shrapnel more likely?''

''Yes. But I'd rather not tell the others that.''

Barthanax narrowed his eyes. ''Are you trying to kill the dwarf?''

''Hardly. As much as he is a pest, I'm also going to be manning the thing, so I'd prefer not to die.''

''If that's what you say.''

''It is, your Grace.''

Barthanax left awkwardly, not sure if the conversation was complete or if he was supposed to bring up another subject. He and his knights, now joined by Alart, made their way down into the battle lines. Archers were already within range of the walls and each side was letting volley after volley fly while men-at-arms cowered behind their shields. The Firelanders who defended the walls were known by the name of lowerlings, who were slightly larger than a fledgling and were much better equipped with mail hauberks, crossbows and falchions. The catapult fired its first stone and, when it struck, the chain on the left no longer existed, nor did the wall behind it. Lord Ebner and his men, who currently were in the testudo formation on the bridge, were pelted by shrapnel and crossbow bolts hammering into their shields and the Northmen behind them seemed out of place. A bolt whistled by Barthanax, ending in the ground uselessly. The catapult cranked loudly as its ropes were tightened for the second shot and a man cried out as a bolt took him in the chest and another volley of arrows flew, some finding the bodies of lowerlings to make a home in while others still raked off the stone ramparts. The crossbows made a harsh sound as their volley flew and hammered pavises, shields or grinded through mail and into flesh. Barthanax ducked beneath the arm of one archer whose blood misted as a bolt found its way into the man's throat. Thony had fired off a few shots thus far, killing a lowerling each time. Glove had chosen not to carry his axe, rather leaving it on his belt, but instead carried two pavises so Thony could limp in safety. The catapult clanked loudly as it was drawn to full power once more, and slowly the engineers brought the next stone. Turning to face his men so that his shield arm faced the castle, Barthanax spoke loudly.

''We're going to go up and -.'' Another volley of crossbows and arrows had fired off and screams of the dying drowned out his voice.

''What?'' Ferdinand cried out.

''I SAID WE'RE GOING TO –'' Another volley fired and more screams drowned him out. He sighed. ''Fuck it. JUST FOLLOW ME.''

The space they meant to cross was a good fifty yards of corpses, bolts and puddles of blood which had made the stone hard ground somehow muddy and churned. It was where the lowerlings aim was best and a suicide rush to cross it. The catapult was ready for the next shot.