And now, six hours later, he was confronted by perhaps twenty Wesmen atop the stockade that blocked the cavalry’s path into Wesmen-held territory. All had bows or crossbows and their torch-fires burned bright and proud. Darrick halted the cavalry column well within range, but confident that the hard shields still in operation would hold firm.
One of the Wesmen stepped forward on to a parapet and shouted down at them.
‘Your spells will not hold us. Behind me are forces that will sweep you from Balaia, and the Lords of the Wastes will walk proud once more. Our magic will be too strong for you. Go back and prepare your graves.’
‘Move aside or die,’ said Darrick, simply, struggling a little at the scale of death that he had ordered so recently.
‘We are protected, you cannot harm us.’
Darrick smiled thinly and turned to the contingent of Xeteskian mages. ‘I don’t have time for chatter,’ he said, holding up three fingers. ‘HellFire?’ The mages nodded and began to cast. Darrick addressed himself to the Wesmen once more. ‘Pray to whatever Gods you worship,’ he said and turned his horse away.
‘HellFire,’ spoke the trio of Xeteskians.
The Wesmen and the stockade below them were shattered and the cavalry rode out into the open air less than half an hour later, once a mage under a CloakedWalk had reported that the trail outside the pass was empty.
‘I think it would be fair to say that we caught them completely cold,’ said Darrick. The cavalry general and The Raven were sharing a farewell drink in the lee of the western pass entrance.
‘I’m sorry you had a wasted journey,’ said Hirad, smiling. ‘We could have taken the stockade ourselves.’
Darrick laughed. ‘I don’t doubt it.’ He passed around the spirit bottle once more, and each of them replenished their mugs.
‘So what’s your next move?’ asked Thraun.
‘We need to keep the pass open for a couple of days until we can fortify at this end. Our best method of holding back the Wesmen will clearly be to stop them retaking it.’
‘Not easy,’ said Jandyr.
‘No,’ agreed Darrick. ‘But we’ll have another five thousand foot here in a few days, and if we can get a good rest tonight, I suspect our mages will be able to do most of the work.’ He drank. ‘But you. You are the ones with the task ahead of you. It’ll be difficult.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Hirad. ‘We could do with another blade. Perhaps you should reconsider my invitation to join The Raven?’
‘I think I’ll stick to cavalry for now.’
Hirad looked into the sky. It was early afternoon and the cloud that was sweeping towards Understone had cleared this side of the pass, leaving broken blue sky and a gentle breeze. Further west, though, it was darker.
‘See anything our way, Ilkar?’ he asked, following the elf’s gaze.
‘Nothing but hills and trees and good wholesome countryside. And it’ll continue to look good so long as it’s not swarming with Wesmen.’
‘We’d best be on our way and find a sensible place to get our heads down,’ said The Unknown. ‘Staying here too long could be bad for the health.’
‘Staying here would be fine,’ corrected Darrick. ‘Leaving to go west later today or in the morning, I suspect, would not.’
‘Either way . . .’ The Unknown got to his feet, waiting for Denser to rise before moving to his horse. ‘Thraun, are you confident of the route?’
Thraun nodded, swinging into his saddle. ‘I’ve studied the maps long enough.’
Hirad shook Darrick’s hand. ‘Keep the pass open, will you? We might be needing it in a hurry.’
‘Just keep yourself alive. I haven’t finished sparring with you yet.’
‘Four, two, isn’t it?’
‘Four, three. Good luck.’
The Raven rode away and were lost to sight.
Chapter 28
The castle town of Blackthorne, its fishing fleet beached and hidden, lay in a shallow valley in the lee of the mountains where the rock joined the sea. Its tactical importance had not been lost on those who built it, controlling as it did trails to Understone northwards and Gyernath in the southeast.
Blackthorne was of the opinion that the Wesmen’s principal aim in taking his town was to use it to stage raids on Darrick at the pass, and to a lesser extent, to attack the south-eastern port. He had no doubt that control of the pass was paramount to the Wesmen because it gave them the access they required to mount a meaningful offensive on the College cities, key to the domination of eastern Balaia.
The beach attack party reached the castle well before mid-morning on a cloudy, cool and breezy day, leaving scouts to monitor Wesmen movement inland. The sky was dark to the west, and with the prevailing wind bringing that darkness towards them, rain was surely coming. Organising defence of the castle was a relatively simple task. With most of the non-fighting population of the town already halfway to the more heavily defended Gyernath, or heading for Korina, Blackthorne had chosen a two-stage defence.
The outer walls of the town were sturdy and well maintained but not designed to withstand prolonged assault from the kind of numbers the Wesmen would bring to bear. Blackthorne had stationed three-quarters of his archers and a further fifty offensive mages, both with defensive cover, on the walls. When the first Wesmen breached the walls, they were to retreat. Blackthorne considered that there would be a mound of corpses four deep outside his town before they conceded it to the enemy.
The castle was his focus. Set at the northern edge of the town, it had been built to fend off Wesmen attacks from Understone Pass. Its sheer outer walls rose more than seventy feet above the town, completely encircling the keep, with turrets set at six intervals providing lookout support, battle direction and archer cover.
The castle’s north gates, usually open to trade - the marketplace was inside the castle walls - had been shut and reinforced with bands of steel. Surrounding them, the gate towers were built forward and over an open arch, creating a lethal killing ground. The town walls facing the Wesmen were of similar construction.
Outside the north gates, cavalry were stationed to force any Wesmen advance around the castle back towards the beach. Inside the walls, the townsmen waited. On the walls, archers, swordsmen and mages. And in the keep itself, a simple circular building with battlements built out in a square around its top some fifty feet above the outer walls, the Barons, healers, bodyguards, cooks and many of Gresse’s mercenaries.
The battlements, nicknamed ‘the Crown’ because of the way they sat slightly uncomfortably atop the keep, bristled with heavy crossbow positions, oil dumps and Blackthorne’s best mages. They had food for three months, and Blackthorne reckoned that if it wasn’t over by then, Darrick would have lost Understone, Balaia would be open to pillage and the war lost. All they could do now was wait.
The Wesmen didn’t keep them long.
Styliann, mind still clouded with rage and an unquenchable desire for revenge, clattered to a stop at the eastern end of Understone Pass at the head of a column of one hundred Protectors. It was early afternoon. The guards at the pass looked at him fearfully but knew what they had to do. They stood in his path.
‘Please state your business,’ said one with deferential politeness.
‘The slaughter of Wesmen,’ said Styliann, his voice matter-of-fact, his face brooking no argument.
‘I have orders to hold unauthorised traffic here awaiting clearance from General Darrick.’ There was apology in his tone.
‘Do you know who I am?’ demanded Styliann.
‘Yes, my Lord.’
‘Then you will also know that it was I who set the orders for your commander to follow. I give myself the clearance to travel the pass. Stand aside.’