Return to Fiction
<Donald>
Jorkandros stifled a yawn, this meeting had been going on all day and still nothing was decided. Between the rants of that Shargashi fanatic who wanted an immediate attack, Ytrior's shouted insistance that without adequate supplies HIS troops weren't fit to launch an attack and predictions of the seas entering hell made by the astrologer Kazanelm; his head was spinning. Respect for the Buserian's expertise made him reluctant but the Shargashi had threatened to go over his head to Fazzur if his idea wasn't adopted and there seemed no alternative other than sit outside the walls trying to keep the supply lines open. Finally he cleared his throat "We will attack in the morning.... The Shargashi will enter the city as agreed while the rest of the army will force Tarkalor's Gate? to link up with them. The mercenaries and clansmen supported by the Greenbows will lead followed by the Tarsh milita under General Ytrior. The phalanx will remain with me in reserve. May the Goddess shine on our efforts!"......
Danbal woke with a bad feeling about the day, as he dressed he tossed his last couple of lunars to the whore who'd shared his blanket. No need for the silver now, by tonight he'd either be rich of the loot from this barbarian city or suffering in whichever hell his misdeeds had earned, little hope for him of the paradise promised by the priestesses.
An hour later, standing in the cold light of predawn Danbal looked up at the imposing fortress which the first wave of attackers was approaching quietly and shivered. Suddenly the alarm sounded in the fortess and immediately the attackers charged putting scaling ladders against the walls and swinging an improvised ram against the gate itself. Magic crackled as the spells on the ram met those on the gate - Lunar fire against the green of earth magic.
Now it was their turn, march across the bridge trying to keep your feet in the strong and unpredictable winds. The sooner that demon Orlanth was chained the better. Even Yelm wasn't helping today, his light was reflected directly into their eyes by the brillient white stonework, never mind here's a fallen ladder, get it upright and start to climb. At least some of ours have got to the top so we've only got the problem of climbing a ladder while carrying a spear and shield, nearly at the top now, OH HELL!
Danbal fell as the heavy corpse carried him away, it seemed to take for ever before he landed, then the pain before the darkness claimed him.
The next Danbal knew was the screaming and the demon calmly cutting away his pants, why has she a whore's face? he wondered. Then he realised that some of the screams were his own, every time she touched his legs they hurt agonisingly yet she carried on as if he wasn't suffering. He'd never heard of such a hell and wondered which of his crimes had lead to this before he finally blacked out again.
Jorkandros sat alone in his tent, sometimes the stars are just against us, he thought. The day had gone badly wrong and his only consolation was he hadn't committed the phalanx. When the time came for that decision the attack had already failed. Certainly the Shargashi had got into the city - the sound of serious fighting had been heard there, but the resistence at Tarkalor's gate had been stiffer than expected and although his soldiers reached the ramparts several times, each time they were thrown back while attempts to break down the gate had failed. After a few hours there was an outpouring of water from the city and then quiet before a headless corpse was hurled from the gate ramparts. Together with the heads that started to appear on the wall spikes it was clear that someone had defeated a couple of hundred fanatics - that worried him. Who had that petty chief Broyan got who was capable of that? The Shargasi corpse was the final straw for many of the attackers and it was only the imposing lines of the phalanx which had prevented retreat turning to rout. The hard truth was he had failed; he'd failed not his advisors because it was his decision, his responsibility and it was now up to him to retrieve the situation. Not that another assault was practical unless Warlord Fazzur Wideread was to find more troops so he would just have to blockade and starve them out. Although first he had to secure his supply lines - more decisions and nothing like the troops needed to implement them.
Again Danbal wakened to the hell he recalled, although no one was tormenting him this time, still his mouth was dry and sore while he couldn't feel or move his legs. There was that demon again, she'd seen him wake and was returning to torture him again. He wimpered as she approached the mat he was lying on and bent to pour some liquid between his lips. The words she said made no sense "You're lucky, a priestess spared enough magic to ensure there was no permanent damage, you'll recover eventually. Drink this." He tried to fight her off but found himself too weak, then the sharp liquid tore at his throat before he again drifted into unconciousness.
A third time Danbal awoke in the same place but somehow it didn't seem so hellish, there was daylight streaming in through an opening in the wall of what was obviously a tent and the people moving around he recognised as initiates and lay members of Deezola. Was he still alive? Then he saw the whore he had slept with the night before the attack - "What are you doing here?" "What do you think?" she replied "There's little call for blanket warmers when no one's been paid for weeks but the priestesses are happy enough to provide meals and a place to sleep in exchange for fetching, carrying and mopping up after you invalids. There's no shortage of that work after last week." "What's your name?" he enquired. "Name! what use have I for a name? you've never needed one before." was her response as she turned away to another chore.
A few weeks later Danbal was sitting up outside the healers tent in Yelm's glow. His mate Kornos had brought him the latest gossip and the priestess's had shooed them outside to prevent them disturbing the other patients. He still couldn't walk unaided and putting weight on his legs was horribly painful - a sign they were healing allegedly! Kornos had brought some hazia though so he was listening contentedly to the grumbling about poor food, lack of pay and what the captain's wife had got up to with a drummer boy. There was even a laugh about a supply train getting captured by the rebels - apparently it had included a consignment of vintage wine for Jorkandros and the thought of him having to drink ale like the rest of the army while those barbarians supped his fine alcohol seemed very amusing. That line of thought was interrupted by Kornos's next comment "The Bat?". "Yes", said Kornos "The Crimson Bat is coming. Apparently this siege is important enough for the High Command to send the Bat to destroy the enemy". Not a pleasent thought - the Orlanthi might be rebels but unleashing the Bat against them was an extreme response, a horrible way to die. He'd never criticise the Emperor or the Godess but their tolerance of monstrosities like that was something he just couldn't understand. It couldn't even be relied on to just eat the enemy, there were tales of loyal Lunar regiments being marched into it's maw and it was a pretty easy guess which regiment that would happen to if things got that bad.
Jorkandros was in a foul mood as he faced the priest seated opposite. Not only had the third supply train in as many weeks been hijacked along with the army paychest and the few luxuries he allowed himself on compaign but his own attempts to intercept supplies and reinforcements to Whitewall had been ineffective, boatducks seemed to have found ways of smuggling anything the defenders wanted into the city. What help had he received to deal with the problem? a ballista team! "They have experience of dealing with ducks" was the explanation! Now the priest was another solution, one which needed careful handling. "Why wasn't I warned? he asked as politely as he could manage. The priest shrugged, "Not my problem, I'm only interested in which of the Empire's enemies feed my charge first".
Danbal was wakened from his sleep by a hysterical chattering which came from a nearby pallet. The hairy creature was obviously in shock, not surprising as one of the orderlies was carrying an arm which had been ripped from its body. A priestess hurried over and the creature quietened as the soothing effect of her presence was felt. Then a warm red glow enveloped the arm and socket as the muscles, nerves and skin knitted back together. "Bandage that and give him a sleeping draught." were the priestess's instructions, before saying to her patient "Next time be more careful where you stick your paw in that ballista." eliciting a mournful "ook" in response.
Glad to be under canvas, Danbal listened to the storm outside. It was obviously the defenders last gasp of defiance for today the Crimson Bat would suck all the life and souls out of the city, but he was impressed all the same. They must have conjured up the demon Orlanth himself to bring such a storm and he knew that the only ground not covered in thick soggy mud would be slippery rock. Then there was an incredible crash which completely blotted out the sound of the storm while the ground shook like nothing he'd experienced since being near Wintertop on a Maran Gor holy day. The Bat must have flown right into the city to produce such an effect.
Strangely the storm didn't abate, indeed it seemed to get worse just as a white faced messenger entered the tent. Spotting a priestess the messenger hurried over and spoke urgently whereupon she left her patient in the care of the nearby orderly and swept into the priestess's inner sanctum. Within moments everything was organised pandemonium as healers and their staff threw together medical supplies and every patient who could walk was sent to comandeer pack animals from elsewhere in the camp. Only when the healers had left did the gossip get round to Danbal, the storm had defeated the Crimson Bat which was last seen crashing into the city walls and a great flood had swept out of Whitewall drowning out the advance camp on Fellmoor. The healers had gone to see how many of the rescued they could help but the outlook was bleak.
What a shambles, Jorkandros thought. The ultimate weapon of the Lunar Empire brought down by a bunch of half naked barbarians, then an entire regiment swept away as the storm brought floods across the whole of Fellmoor. OK, there were survivors but half those were injured, most had lost their equipment and the senior officer was a lad of nineteen. The only thing to do was send them home to recruit and re-equip. Meanwhile what to do about those captured when the barbarians sallied out of the city after the flood. A trader had already offered to negotiate their release for ransom or prisioner exchange, no doubt at a substantial commission. He was loathe to do so as he intended to crucify captured rebels as a deterent to others. But now that would merely provoke reprisals and he couldn't afford to depress morale among his troops any further. Mind you it won't be my problem much longer, if he wasn't summoned to Glamour to explain himself after this he would be very surprised.
Danbal was surprised at how happy Kornos appeared when he arrived the next morning. "Do you want the good news or the bad first?" Kornos asked, before continuing "We're going home." then after a pause "At least those of us left are". Eventually Kornos gave him the details, out of nearly seven hundred soldiers on the plateau less than a hundred had escaped unscathed though mostly without their weapons or shields, another hundred had survived injured and a similar number were believed to be prisoners. "But what of the Bat?" "It's gone," replied Kornos "no one seems to know where. Some tell of it flying off south while others claim it dissolved into thin air after its priests died."
"But why can't I go home?" Danbal demanded a week later, "I can walk". "Not far enough to get home, and I've barely enough wagons to carry those who'll never walk again." replied the embarrassed officer, new insignia in stark contrast to the patched and water stained uniform coat. "Once you're fit, you can return with another party." Giving up, he recalled his first sight of the officer who now faced him. Then a baby-faced kid newly appointed, now in effective command of what's left of the regiment - was it really less than two years?
Kornos had come to say goodbye, they were leaving within the hour. True there were some other injured members of the regiment staying as well but none Danbal knew well. "I'll leave you in charge then." Kornos joked, "There's none of us here with more seniority than you. And it looks like that whore will keep you company, she must fancy you 'cause she's staying." Kornos laughed while gesturing in the woman's direction but in truth it was difficult to think of her as a whore now, she seemed more at home here in the healers tent than wrapped in a blanket on the cold ground. And it bugged him that he still didn't know her name....
Everyone was excited this morning, some good news at last. The phalanx had turned out in full parade dress, armour shining and plumes nodding in the breeze. Even the peltasts had shaved and put on their best tunics. All to welcome the new general, Tatius the Bright. Well, not really, the rumour was that he brought with him a complete supply train - full rations at last - and wonder of wonders, the pay chests - they were going to get paid. Everyone was desperate to confirm the truth of those rumours, especially those civilians who had found it necessary to extend credit to the troops.
Jorkandros greeted his replacement with all the formality of Dara Happen ritual, it was the best way of putting a good face on the situation. Formalities over they adjourned to sip wine together and for Tatius to receive a briefing from his predecessor. Tatius's first words were a surprise "I know you think you've failed, and the rest of the world must continue to think so but in truth we are well on the way to complete victory. Instead of chasing the wind all over Dragon Pass we have him bottled up in this fortress and with care I shall tighten the noose so that when it falls Orlanth will be chained. Your orders are here, now tell me how your command fares...."
Danbal was feeling pleased very with himself, not only had he received all the arrears of his pay but he'd managed to hobble far enough to find a vendor of those gaudy ribbons that women liked so much. He knew the woman who nursed him had been very fond of such things but seemed to have stopped wearing them, presumably she'd had to trade them for essentials when she was short of money.
"What are you thinking of?" she shouted, her unexpected outrage plain as she hurled the ribbons into Dunbal's face "I'm no longer a whore, especially not YOUR whore! or didn't you know the Priestess's have accepted me as an initiate of Deezola, can't you recognise the tunic?". Her tirade continued in the same vein for several minutes before she stalked off, leaving him with the realisation that he'd never bought a present for a respectable woman before and he hadn't the slightest idea what was suitable.
</Donald>