Arwain gestured to his two immediate companions and the three of them stood up and began walking forward casually. The remainder vanished into the darkness.
As they neared the tower, Arwain's companions put their arms about his shoulders, and he drooped his head as if he were sick or injured, and in need of support. They did not speak, but they made no attempt to walk quietly.
As they drew nearer, Arwain scuffed his feet along the ground and coughed.
The sound galvanized the tower guards. ‘Halt,’ one of them called, advancing, his spear levelled.
'It's all right,’ one of Arwain's companions called back with what they had agreed was a passable attempt at a Bethlarii accent. ‘Our mate's cracked his head open, we're looking for the…'
The accent was not good enough.
'Ye gods, they're Serens! Sound the…'
At the first exclamation, however, Arwain had relinquished his supporters and moved forward. He reached the man in three long, swift strides. The movement was so sudden and purposeful that the guard faltered momentarily, and, side-stepping the extended spear, Arwain drove his sword through the man's throat, silencing his cry instantly.
The guard's hands dropped the spear and came up reflexively and futilely to grip the lethal blade. For an instant, Arwain lost his balance. As he struggled to recover it and also retrieve his sword he felt his two companions move past him and engage the other guards. Then the rest of his group were there, at the rear of the distracted guards.
Even as Arwain registered this fact, a figure lunged towards him. Without thinking, he twisted sideways and felt the terrifying draught of a blade passing in front of him. His attacker lurched forward under the impetus of his missed blow and Arwain drove the palm of his free hand into the side of the man's face ferociously. He felt a bone crack, and heard the man utter a strange cry as he staggered under the blow. Arwain tore his sword free from the dying man and struck the reeling figure a blow on the shoulder. The man went down and Arwain struck him again.
Then there was a flare of light. A lamp had been knocked over and the spilled oil had ignited violently. Arwain took in the scene as if it had been some vivid picture hanging in his father's palace. A mass of shadows and men, swirling and moving in some unholy dance, something far away from him, aesthetic almost, to be viewed dispassionately, at leisure.
In the same instant he heard again a score of Ryllans’ training yard reproaches.
'Move, Arwain! Move!'
The distant vision passed from his mind and he saw the scene as it was: shadows and men swirling and moving in terror, rage and bloodlust. He saw too that the guards were losing, and that the fire would probably ignite the whole tower.
Good, he thought, as he drove his sword into a Bethlarii about to bring his foot down on a fallen figure. That'll be useful to the Whendreachi. He pushed the struggling Bethlarii off his sword with his foot and reached down to drag the downed Serens to his feet.
A glance showed him the last guard falling and that all his men were standing, though some appeared to be injured.
How long had it all taken? Scarcely twenty heartbeats something told him, but time had no meaning here. Here there was only now.
Quickly he checked that those injured could continue, then he looked out in the darkness away from the flickering flames beginning to rise up the tower. The night was alive with the shadows of his battalion, moving silently into the Bethlarii camp like a great, engulfing, black tide. Where it passed it would leave only death.
He pointed towards the nearest tent. A figure was crawling out of it. At the sight of the blazing tower, he, like the first guard, faltered, and like the first guard, he died for it as a single blow from Arwain almost severed his head. Then swords cut open the tent, and in a brief orgy of stabbing and hacking, killed the bewildered occupants, before moving swiftly to the next tent.
The deed was repeated along the whole of the Serens’ line. And repeated and repeated.
Arwain did not count how many died. He thought mainly of his next stride forward, knowing that to do otherwise could bring death to him as easily as he brought it to the surprised Bethlarii. Once he thought of those that this cruelty might save, but the thought vanished as he was obliged to deal with an armed Bethlarii who was more quickly aroused than his fellows.
Gradually the night silence began to fill with the cracking and snapping of the burning tower, the sounds of pounding feet, hacking effort, and, increasingly, agonizing cries of bewilderment and terror.
Then it was rent by the shrill alarm cries of escaping survivors. First one, then another, then many, dashing through the camp and rousing whoever they could in their flight.
As this clamouring news of the assault began to outpace the progress of the attackers, so the first rush of the black tide began to peter out, and the Serens found themselves meeting increasing resistance.
It was necessarily disorganized however, and by maintaining their close groups, the Serens were able to continue pushing relentlessly forward for some time, ruthlessly cutting down those Bethlarii who attempted to stand their ground.
For a brief period, and quite by chance, several of the groups came together to form a continuous marching line reminiscent of the traditional pike line in formal battle array. And for that same period, it seemed that panic would indeed overwhelm the Bethlarii as they fled before it.
The Serens’ line advanced triumphantly.
By the light from the burning tower, Arwain saw the group nearest his own accelerate and surge off into the darkness.
His stomach went cold. ‘Close up, close up. They've separated from us,’ he hissed to his own group.
Over to his right he heard the mounting noise of the wakening camp. He and Ryllans had discussed the many dangers inherent in this attack. The greatest, they concluded, was not the possibility of being overwhelmed by direct resistance, but in fact the contrary. It was the possibility that the Bethlarii immediately in front of the attack would crumble and that as a consequence, the Serens would move too far forward, perhaps even breaking through the Bethlarii circle, only to find it closing about them in awakened force and leaving them with their backs to the city wall.
And this was what was happening.
Arwain did not hesitate.
'Sound retreat, quickly!’ he shouted urgently to his signaller.
Even as the horn call rang out, it was echoed by an identical call from Ryllans’ signaller at the other end of the attack line. It did not surprise Arwain. The tactic was one of many that had been agreed in advance of the attack, in the knowledge that communications between the two principal officers would be impossible once the enemy was engaged.
Arwain peered anxiously into the darkness.
'Sound again, and keep sounding!’ he said.
'Lord!’ A hand seized his arm and turned him round. His companion was pointing back to the blazing tower. Against its light, Arwain saw a large group of Bethlarii forming around it, spears and swords silhouetted clearly. They were in some disorder, but even as he looked he saw the group's attention drawn towards the darkness from which came the invader's horn call.
Arwain's immediate response was to retreat, but now his group were effectively the rearguard to a large part of the battalion and these Bethlarii were the unwitting vanguard of the encircling movement that must inevitably cut off the Serens’ force if they did not retreat quickly.
'Form up around the signaller,’ he ordered. ‘Lock shields and hold.’ Then, to the signaller, he hissed, ‘Blow as you've never blown.'
The signaller needed no such instruction but acknowledged it with a glance of his whitened eye and a nod which made his horn call waver slightly.
Arwain's attention returned to the now cautiously advancing Bethlarii. They were visible against the light of the tower and, occasionally, a point or an edge reflected the firelight ominously. If they closed, then his small group would not be able to hold for more than a few minutes. He glanced over his shoulder. Other fires were springing up through the camp, but still there was no sign of the neighbouring groups returning.
