Caleb's Journey
Chapter 34

Siege Day Two

While others slept and dawn began to show itself in the eastern sky Eman-Sadal sat at his desk drawing out his plans for the next phase of his attack. He already had his grand scheme completed, now he simply needed to fine tune the details. In his estimation he had placed his siege artillery in excellent range to reduce the protective walls behind which the archers hid and let loose with their lethal arrows. The slanted walls of the castle made the boulders hurled from his catapults less effective, but that only fazed him in the slightest degree. His faith he placed in his overwhelming numerical superiority and tactical knowledge.

Day two of his rapid siege called for another rush on the guard supported by catapult fire while ogres advanced forward to dig new trenches that got ever closer to the castle. Then, he would begin having them dug under the cover of night. Sure, there would be more casualties during the day, but he viewed it as thinning the herd of his forthcoming adversary while still giving him enough troops to achieve his ends. These trenches, reinforced against missile attack with thick timber walls were intended to eventually get so close that a direct assault could be done either day or night to the point of victory through a war of attrition. Numerical loss of life mattered little to him. For him there was only one objective, victory for his master, and the reward that he expected to follow.

A grid of the area, of his own creation, lay spread out on his table. Little marble statues were carefully placed on it, representing his forces.

Today there would be no attempt to circumnavigate the defenses for an attack on the western door. Instead, he intended to flank the eastern wall with a two-pronged attack on the east and south walls, to probe their defenses. His adversary, whoever he was, had earned Eman-Sadal’s respect for how he had handled the initial assault on the castle. To him there was nothing more thrilling than matching tactical wits with an adversary. It was rare for him to get to use those talents, having cast off his humanity centuries ago and the command of any army.

“

Once those defensive posts for the archers are crushed I’ll use the gnoll slingers to harry the archers while the legions of skeletons press the attack on the east and south walls. I know the ogres are eager for combat, so I’ll send a wave of them in for an assault as well. Those oversized lummoxes will have trouble with the moats, ladders, and the like due to their less than dexterous natures, but I have to keep my friends happy, for now. Their armies will be quite depleted when this is done and we’ll reinforce this stronghold until my master reveals the rest of his plans to me.”

“

My beautiful, precious dragon will be the finisher. Once their defenses are weakened enough, I’ll unleash his fury upon them, lightning bolts from his ancient frame, to crack and destroy their walls. Were it not for my desire to weaken my allies, in case they turn on us, I’d use the lightning today and see a finish to this contest. As it stands, once their defenses are broken the ogres will finally get what they crave, a melee with the humans. If I had any pity I might waste some of it on those defending Attalis now coming face to face with those hulking humanoids.

Eman-Sadal merged from his tent with a regal air about him. As he was not born of noble stock he had not been given a title and position, but he had advanced through the ranks from foot soldier to general. The fortune of birth capped his rank and denied him the chance at knighthood, but all of his departed friends had known his value on the battlefield. Knowing his own worth and seeing the hands of time start to erode his mortal coil he sought out a means of extending his lifespan. In this instance, an alchemist who, for a very large fee, concocted a potion that he imbibed and made him what he is today.

Eager to start the day’s proceedings, he went to seek out Skarlarth, whom he suspected still slumbered. Eman-Sadal, when he chose to do so, could radiate an aura of fear to which many succumbed. As he approached his ally’s tent, he used that power and waved aside the two sentries posted outside of Skarlarth’s door who effected by the lichmaster, moved immediately. His assumption proved correct in that there was that same ogre sprawled across a bearskin rug.

Eman-Sadal studied the slumbering creature for a moment. He slept as if he had not a care in the world. “This is the great warlord?” Eman-Sadal thought. “I wonder what type of campaigns he has had against his fellow ogres for that is what he is respected, winning great victories. For him I have some measure of respect. Now I must wake him. “Morning comes my friend,” Eman-Sadal said in his most placid voice. “We must not waste the daylight hours as they are precious to our cause.”

Skarlarth quickly rolled over and reached for his mallet, not knowing who was in his lair.

“

Why did my guards let you pass?” Skarlarth groggily inquired.

“

I find ways of getting around obstacles,” my friend. “It’s what I do best. I will meet you at the command tent in ten minutes. If you’ll excuse me, I intend to personally wake every leader just to ensure their prompt arrival.” With those comments he departed while Skarlarth’s fury rose up in his chest and colored his face. Despising the notion of being taken unawares and without a struggle or notice from his sentries greatly distressed him. He summoned them both to his quarters immediately. What was their punishment? He put them on the front line of the ogre infantry.

Over at the defensive stronghold, Attalis, Sir Samsuran had a meeting with his captains in the same garden where he had met with Lord Lestrade. He stood on the dais as he delivered his words to his audience, “Captains, I’m proud of each and every one of you. We repelled every attack with minimal losses. If they keep up this method of attack we’ll slaughter them and they will lose both their will and their ability to fight. Pay better attention to their catapults. They are covered and in firing range of our walls, but we tested these walls when we built the place and no catapult can crack them.”

“

No thicker walls exist and that slant of the walls makes them even less vulnerable to artillery fire. Still, I want our firepower focused on siege weapons. Men get nervous when they see giant boulders headed in their direction.” Here everyone chuckled. Sir Samsuran had delivered that last remark in jocular fashion, hoping to lighten the mood. He knew they all understood the gravity of their duty so he figured he wasn’t out of place in making such a statement.

“

It’s nearly dawn, rouse the troops and get them to their posts with all due haste. Relieve the men that stood watch at night. They have to be exhausted. That trench digging bothers me. Neither of those races has ever shown tactical knowledge of that nature. The same holds true for the use of siege equipment being so protected. Only the wild charge strikes me as something they normally do.”

“

Sir, what of those skeletons?” A captain interposed.

“

Nobody knows from whence that unholy legion of creatures came. There is a great mass of them, they must outnumber their allies by four to one, and since we are talking about it, we are dreadfully outnumbered as well. This is the largest army I have ever seen amassed against his majesty’s forces, but numbers are meaningless in this situation. We have the tactical advantages of an impregnable fortress, great leadership from you wise men, and the strong and brave hearts of the finest soldiers in the land. I give this exercise in futility one week before their spirits are broken and they retreat in shame. Good morning to each of you. May Uua protect us all.”

Two archers, Vox and Daeka, had opted to sleep and let others keep watch. Now they began to stir. Daeka was the first to speak, “Vox, I’ve never been sorrier in my life to be right about something. I sensed something bad coming yesterday. My mom had that same talent, being able to sense when things aren’t quite right. When I saw the trees in the forest move I just knew it was an attack coming.”

Vox answered him thusly, “Not quite right? Boy, that’s an understatement. Did you see the size of that army? Row upon row of skeletons came charging from the clearing like an endless stream. We are outnumbered by thousands upon thousands of soldiers. And where did those skeletons come from? It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before.”

“

That’s because you lived on a farm next to me before we came here,” Daeka reminded him. “We’ve hardly seen anything of the world outside of our village, certainly not gnolls, ogres, or skeletons. But boy, we sure put it to them yesterday, didn’t we? I mean the moat is filled with dead skeletons, who I guess were dead anyway, and the bodies of gnolls. That crazy group of ogres that tried to run around the castle and ram down the door, can you believe them? I don’t think but a few of them got away. I’m glad we’re archers, it’s safer, but our strong pikemen on the walls sure did a number on anyone who climbed on those ladders. And the boiling oil? Wow. It burned through those creatures like they weren’t even there.”

“

Vox, you know I’m not ashamed to say that I’m nervous. I think we all are. I thank Uua for our incredible luck. I wonder when and how they will come at us today.”

The pragmatic Vox gave him a curt reply, “I doubt you’ll have to wait to find out. Dawn is upon us and I expect them to waste no time in attacking again. I expect them to try out their catapults to see if they can hurt our walls, then another rush.”

“

Yes, yes, you are quite right. I doubt we’ll have to wait for very long.” Daeka assented.

This time it was Vox’s turn to be correct about the events of the day. As daylight broke an ogre blew his horn, emitting a deep based tone. As he performed that action the combined armies of the attackers emerged from their trenches and began their rush towards Attalis. Simultaneously, Trogdon, who had stationed himself with the artillery, ordered the catapults to be loaded and to commence fire immediately. “Concentrate firepower on the archer posts on the walls,” he said. “Let’s get those cowardly bowmen off of the wall and into a real fight.” Trodgon’s words, and the thought of fighting the humans in hand-to- hand combat elicited a chorus of cheers from the ogres manning the catapults.

On the other side of the fortresses walls, that is to say the inside of them, Sir Samsuran stood at his command post watching the soldiers emerge from their trenches and begin their rapid march towards his castle. He noted the range of the catapults and the incoming barrage of boulders as did his troops and all waited for their impact. Many of the stones hit the heavily reinforced walls inflicting minimal damage, but some struck true to their intended mark and smashed the tiered archer posts, scattering their occupants in every direction, instantly killing some, injuring others, and knocking some hapless souls into the moat below, breaking their bones and leaving them without a way to re-enter the castle before the enemy arrived.

As the missile barrage continued unabated, Sir Samsuran ordered his ballistas to target the catapults, “If they want a chance at causing any meaningful damage they’ll have to move those things into the range of my archers. Then we’ll see what taste for battle these curs have. Ballista commanders, I don’t want them to be able to fling so much as a pebble at us. Destroy those things.”

Captains barked the same orders as the day before, for archers to fire indiscriminately at the advancing horde. Yet, unlike yesterday’s blind charge for the eastern wall, the attacking army reached a certain point and split their forces in two, with half of the detachment breaking off and heading towards the south wall.

“

A two pronged attack supported by artillery fired,” thought Sir Samsuran. “None of these advanced tactics belong to gnolls or ogres. They prefer a straight rush, I wonder who leads them?” It was a fleeting thought, for he had to focus his keen mind on the matter at hand, defending his stronghold. Again he barked his orders, “Captains, take one third of the archers off of the east wall and fortify the south wall. Double up the pikemen on the south, that’s where they will try to test our mettle. We’ll rain arrows down on their soldiers as they cut towards the south and our pikemen will pick apart the remnants. Nobody reaches the top of these walls!”

Another hail of arrows greeted the monstrous army and again the skeletons made no attempt to deflect the arrows, for they lacked both the equipment and the mindset. Ever forward they marched, unfazed by what transpired about them. The gnolls tried to shield themselves. Unlike yesterday, there was a large detachment of ogre infantry with the other corps and they followed the troops headed towards the south wall. Eman-Sadal’s well placed catapults produced a distinctive sound as their winches cranked back the arm of the rock hurling devices making them again ready to be loaded. As they flung their boulders in succession, he watched with joy, knowing that in the days ahead they would inflict more damage.

Ogres stood in a straight line and passed the boulders from the siege cart from one ogre to the next until the ammunition reached the contraption. “I want you to turn one of those catapults right at a ballista tower,” Trogdon commanded. “We’d better get him before he gets us.”

Alas, Trogdon’s command was difficult to execute given the unwieldy nature of the catapult. Its wheels lacked the capacity to oscillate. Therefore, it had to be pushed to achieve the desired end. While the ogres and evarks endeavored to turn the apparatus, the swivel mounted ballista and its operators turned their weapon with relative ease. The trigger man loosed the long, sharply tipped spear and it missed the catapult, but hit one of the ogres, piercing his body straight through. The victim held onto the missile, then collapsed.

Trogdon continued to urge his soldiers to turn the catapult. Now it was a race to see could the ballista be reloaded and fire again before the ogres and their evarks turned their siege weapon. With a quick pace the humans wound the torsion spring while ogre muscle shoved the catapult. In the end, superior technology triumphed over brute force and the humans shot their ballista again, this time with a greater degree of success. The missile hit the arm of the catapult and split it right in two, rendering it useless. Trogdon cursed his luck, but contented himself with the knowledge that trenches bringing them even closer to Attalis would be dug that night. So he moved to another catapult and decided against matching up directly with that ballista group.

In the meanwhile, the other catapults continued their barrage trading blows with other ballistae and hammering at the walls as well. The thunderous onslaught of shelling from the mighty siege weapons accomplished its purposes, to weaken the defensive position of archers protected by the parapets and to serve as a diversion for the infantry. While failing to produce any significant damage to Attalis, the catapults had harried the archers, thereby keeping them from firing freely at the advancing army.

Back on the ground the assault on the eastern wall consisted of a corps of skeletons primarily. Gnolls carried the ladders, but when it came time to climb the ladders and scale the walls, row upon row of skeletons lined up for the task. Archers fired with ferocity at them and the pikemen gored them, the guardians of that wall holding well despite the shelling from the catapults. “Disappointing to lose so many troops so quickly, but acceptable,” thought Eman-Sadal.

At the south wall arrows indiscriminately flew from the walls towards the approaching army each archer making his best effort to rapidly and accurately fire at moving targets, which is no easy task, even for trained veterans. Again the gnolls shielded themselves as best as possible from the hail of arrows, as did the ogres. Some ogres pressed onward despite catching an arrow in the arm, chest, foot, etc. They were that eager to spill human blood and it steeled their nerves and helped them ignore the pain.

In the distance a horn sounded. Gnolls dressed for infantry duty dropped their shields and took hold of the slings they had secreted behind that defensive device. Quickly they reached into the pouches filled with stones that hung from their belts and began slinging stones at the archers who had peered out from the parapets and were firing on both gnoll and ogre alike. It was the ogres who took the siege ladders, laid them against the wall, and began to climb them, all of them showing the humans a thirst for blood in their eyes.

While forty feet seems like a scant distance to cover, it is akin to scaling a mountain when as you climb men are shooting arrows at you and pikemen are trying to stab you or shove your ladder back to the ground. Ogres endured arrows in the back, but still they climbed, drew their swords, and advanced ever closer to the top of the wall. As they closed in on their target an extra detachment of pikemen, held in reserve by Sir Samsuran, arrived. These fresh troops began jabbing their long weapon at the ogres, some of whom were able to deflect the attack with their blade, others, a small, smart few had the presence of mind to grab the pike and pull the wielder of the weapon back over the wall and onto the ground, injuring them, but more importantly, leaving them to the not so tender mercies of the troops on the ground.

From his lookout point Sir Samsuran noted that the ogres were advancing faster than he expected and he felt concern for his troops. “Captains, bring that boiling oil to the south wall. It needs it most. Let the east wall hold its own for now. Everyone did as commanded and a pitched battle had indeed erupted on the south wall, the humans tapping their inner reserves of courage, training, and self-preservation to hold off the menacing behemoths.

A cry rang out that the oil was coming.

The steaming liquid arrived just in time, for the first ogre was about to set foot on the top of the wall when he was greeted by a vat of hot oil that hit his face, causing him to fall off of the ladder and land in the moat where he writhed in agony as his skin peeled off of his body. The steaming ooze splashed everywhere on the assailants, burning the flesh off of their backs, hands, faces, everywhere it made contact. Two astute pikemen took advantage of the situation and flung the ladder back to the ground. Any ogre infantry remaining would have to fight their way back up, using what was left of the ladder.

Pitched battles raged everywhere, with losses mounting on both sides, but still the humans held their ground, their tenacity matching that of their adversaries. A frustrated Eman-Sadal ordered an ogre to blow his horn and sound the retreat. He felt surprised by the tenacity of his foes, but remained sanguine about his prospects for victory. The sound and subsequent withdrawal of troop was met with a chorus of cheers by the humans.

“Music to my ears, Vox,” remarked Daeka.

“

Enjoy today’s victory while you can, mortals,” thought Eman-Sadal, “I’m just not foolish enough to waste my army. Tomorrow my conquest begins in earnest.”

That night, in the commander’s tent Skarlarth voiced his frustration with the progress thus far, “The ’umans are not as weak as you said. I’ve lost many brave ogres and we want ’uman blood. You said we’d smash their fort. I don’t look so good in front of the other ogre chieftains for trusting you.”

“

Have patience, great warlord. You’ll get your precious victory. When night falls have your men dig their trenches even closer to the castle walls. We’ll be more exposed to archer fire, but not for as long a period of time. A siege of a castle cannot be done in one day, but tomorrow you’ll get your dream to lock horns with the humans in battle.”

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