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coming assault or the possibility of injury and death, but he was mortally afraid of making a hash of things.
These five hundred were his command, his first since the fall of Aekir; and he knew he was still regarded
by many of his fellow Torunnans as the man who had deserted John Mogen. He was coldly determined
to do well today.
The warmth of the sun was bright and welcome. Men wriggled fingers in their ears to let out the ringing
aftermath of the artillery, then sighted down their weapons at the advancing enemy.
 Easy! Corfe called out.  Wait till I give the word.
A gun barked from one of the upper casemates, and a second later a blossom of blasted earth appeared
on the slope before the Merduk formations. Andruw testing the range.
They came on at a slow walk, the high-sided waggons trundling in their midst. The northern and southern
hosts had more of these elephant-drawn vehicles than the one which was aimed at the barbican. Corfe
strained his eyes to make out the strange loads, then whistled.
 Boats! The waggons were loaded with shallow-hulled, puntlike craft piled one on top of the other.
They were going to try and cross the Searil to north and south whilst engaging the garrison on the east
bank at the same time.
 They ll be lucky, a nearby soldier said, and spat over the battered wall.  The Searil s swollen after the
rain. It s running along like a bolting horse. I hope they have strong arms, or they ll be washed all the way
down to the Kardian.
There was a spatter of brief laughter along the ramparts.
Andruw s guns began to sing out one by one. The young gunnery officer had kept his five most accurate
pieces this side of the river, and was adjusting their traverse and elevation personally. They began to lob
explosive shells into the forefront of the central enemy formation, blasting them into red ruin. Corfe saw
an elephant lifted half off its feet as a shell exploded squarely under it. Another hit one of the high-laden
wains and sent slivers of deadly wood spraying like spears through its escort. There was confusion, men
milling about, panic-stricken beasts trampling and trumpeting madly. The Torunnans watched with a high
sense of glee, happy to be repaying the Merduks in kind for the relentless bombardment of the past days.
But the ranks reformed, and the Merduks came on again faster, loping along at a brisk trot, leaving the
waggons behind. Corfe could see that the lead elements of these men were in shining half-armour and
mail. They were the Hraibadar, the shock-troops of Shahr Baraz.
The formation splintered and spread out so that the shellbursts took a lesser toll. As they jogged ever
closer Corfe rapped out orders, pitching his voice to carry over the rippling booms of the Torunnan
artillery.
 Ready your pieces!
The men fitted the smouldering slow-match into the wheel-locks of their arquebuses.
 Present your pieces!
He raised his sabre. He could see individual faces in the ranks of the approaching enemy, horsehair
plumes, panting mouths underneath the tall helms.
He swept his sabre down.  Give fire!
The walls erupted in a line of smoke and flame as nigh on five hundred arquebuses went off in a single
volley. The enemy, scarcely a hundred yards away, were thrown back as if by a sudden gale of wind.
The front ranks dissolved into a mass of wriggling, crawling men, and those behind faltered a moment,
then came on again.
 Reload! Corfe shouted. It was Andruw s turn now.
The five guns of the remaining Torunnan battery waited until the Merduks were within fifty yards, and
then fired as one. They were loaded with deadly canister: hollow cans of thin metal containing thousands
of arquebus bullets. Five jets of smoke spurted out, and the Merduks were flattened once more in a
dreadful slaughter.
The smoke was too thick for aiming. Corfe shouted at the top of his voice, waving his sabre:  Back off
the walls! Second position, lads! Back on me!
The Torunnans ran down from the ruined battlements and formed a swift two-deep line below. Their
sergeants and ensigns pushed them into position and then stood ready.
The gunners were leaving their pieces, having spiked the touch-holes. Corfe saw Andruw there, laughing
as he ran. When the last artillerymen were behind the line of arquebusiers he gave the order.
 Ready your pieces!
A line of figures pouring through the gaps in the walls now, hundreds of them, screaming as they came.
 Front rank, present your pieces!
Thirty yards away. Could they be stopped? It seemed impossible.
 Give fire!
A shattering volley that hid the enemy in clouds of dark smoke.
 First rank, fall back. Second rank, give fire!
The first rank were running back through the fortress to the bridge, where Baffarin and his engineers
waited. It would be very close.
The second volley staggered the smoke, flattened more of the oncoming enemy, but Corfe s men were
falling now for the Merduks had arquebusiers up on the battlements firing blindly into the Torunnan ranks. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]