“Kretarus!” the governor ordered, cocking his finger as though summoning a dog. The air admiral slunk after him, studiously avoiding looking at the new legate general.
With the departure of the governor, almost three fourths of the courtiers left as well, scrambling out of the main doors or down side passages. Many of the remained had the grizzled look of veteran soldiers. The rest were young and eager looking, as though relishing the fighting to come.
“Very well, Legate General Regillus. What do you need from us?”
Day Four: Unto the Breach
The pounding booms ceaselessly assaulted Regillus’ ears. It seems the Mongols have learned something in the last few years, besides those anti-airship missiles. The squat tubes of metal sat beyond bowshot, even beyond range of their strongest repeaters and scorpions, and threw balls of heavy metal or rock into the curtain wall. The few remaining Roman engineers were desperately studying the Mongol weapons from afar, but were unable to learn much. The Mongols had hidden each weapon behind wicker screens to confuddle their Roman opponents.
I suppose we could sally against them, but we would be cut to pieces by that massed archery of theirs before we could even get within range. Another blast sent a shower of shattered masonry into the air about a hundred feet away. Regillus involuntarily ducked. He cursed.
“Are you sure we do not have anything that can reach those things, Janisal?”
His chief engineer winced at the anger in the words, but shook his head.
“Not that I know of, sir, especially now that our airships are gone. I would bet that some canisters of Greek fire would knock them out for a while, and probably blow up the gunpowder they are using to fire those things.” The older man spread his arms apologetically. “They’ve got them hidden and protected, they outrange us, and they seem to be accursedly good at targeting our own artillery all along the wall.”
“Well at this rate, we will not have much of a wall left to defend by the end of today.” The Mongolian artillery was focusing on a stretch of defensive works close to the river, slamming into one of the oldest stretches of wall. The ancient stonework was no match for the heavy hitting projectiles. With each fusillade of fire came a cascading torrent of crumbling mortar and stones.
“Why not just use the skimmers?” came a familiar voice.
“Ah! Engineer Monventus, glad to see you have not fled the city.” The other man shrugged.
“There were no more airships out, and the last train left at midnight, hoping to avoid Mongol patrols to the south. I figured that I could test some new weapon ideas I have been working on while we were under siege.”
Regillus looked at him, unable to keep his jaw from dropping. The engineer was risking his life to test inventions? In a warzone? Janisal spoke up.
“You must be a bit wrong in the head to want to stay here,” he said in disbelief.
“Nonsense, I am simply a pragmatist. I could not get away, so I might as well be useful. Did you hear my recommendation earlier?” he asked, obviously moving beyond the question of his sanity. “I said we should use skimmers to knock out their artillery.”
“Our skimmers are not equipped with weapons!” Janisal complained. “They are too light to carry any containers of Greek fire.”
“Then let us equip them with gunpowder instead! Cut a hole in the bottom and give each man a few of those pila warheads your legionnaires are so fond of using.” Monventus would not back down. The other man immediately began to argue. Regillus held his hand up.
“Stop!” His command was punctuated by another thundering explosion.
“If it is possible, do it. We have nothing else to lose. The walls can’t take this beating much longer.”
Monventus nodded, a smug look on his face. Janisal shook his head.
“As you wish, sir.”
Mere hours later, Regillus stood at the same tower, spyglass in hand as he watched Antioch’s only remaining air assets launch into the air from the central airfield. The sputtering sound of their propellers was barely audible over the crash and boom of the siege. Five of the wood and glass constructs moved into a v-formation and angled their way north. The perfect angle for an attack run. Regillus extended the spyglass and trained it onto the skimmers. He could see crude struts welded to the wings, each skimmer carrying half a dozen small metal canisters along each wing.
I hope Monventus’ idea works. If it does, I think Roman ingenuity just granted our empire another reprieve. The skimmers moved into a ragged line, their wooden wings shaking under the additional weight. Regillus turned to watch the Mongolian siege lines. We have to destroy those cannons! The term had been coined by some of the legionnaires manning the tower, and the name had stuck. May as well call it what it is — a large, metal tube. He could already see movement as the Mongolians wheeled some of their missile carts into position. The officer said a hasty prayer as the first rocket shot up from the ground, shooting right past the skimmers to explode harmlessly further up.
“Yes! They are too low to the ground for the rockets to hit!” Other men manning the tower cheered as well, as the first skimmer flew in low to drop its payload of warheads. The small explosives looked like black snow tinkling to the ground. The brave pilot was rewarded with a series of ragged explosions right behind the defensive earthworks. Regillus even saw one of the cannon tubes tumble up into the air, somersaulting over the dirt rampart to land amongst the remains of dead Romans and Mongolians in the no-man's land close to the wall. The cheering increased as another skimmer zeroed in on the defensive line further down, dodging rocket fire as it descended.
By now, the Mongols had taken up their famous horsebows as well, and were launching a stream of arrows into the air. Several pierced the cabin of the skimmer, and the flyer wobbled for a moment.
“Oh no…,” Regillus said. “Pull up, pilot!” The skimmer went into a nosedive, slamming into the ground at full speed. The resulting explosion tore another chunk of Mongolian siege works to shreds, sending men, equipment, and animals flying into the air. Several secondary explosions said the dying pilot had managed to hit some sort of ammunition train as well, as fire took hold behind the enemy lines. My gods… Regillus was shocked at the fiery demise of the skimmer pilot. That was a child. It was only with the loss of the flyer that Regillus had remembered that skimmers were flown by children no more than fifteen or sixteen years old, as they were the only ones light enough to fly such flimsy contraptions.
I just sent someone’s child to their death. He felt his throat clench. The officer forced himself to watch as the next three skimmers made their attack runs as well, their explosions seemingly small in comparison to that other fiery crash. Finding himself unexpectedly grieving, Regillus turned his back after the last one circled up and away, towards the safety of the city. The Mongolian siege lines were in disarray, but at least some of the cannons had survived, as one fired defiantly out from a smoldering section of breastworks.
It was a good try, but am I willing to send those children into battle again?
He clambered down through the trap door, into the tower room below. Men at the arrow slits waved to him, and he put on a brave face, giving an encouraging word here and there.
Antioch must hold. The city is my charge now, and those children… no, better to think of them as soldiers… will die if the Mongols sack the city. Same as these soldiers in here.
Antioch cannot fall.
He fled the tower room, taking the steps two at a time. He had to get away, away from the weight of responsibility threatening to break him. Panic.