encircled by a ring of interwoven leaves superimposed over a gnarled staff.
“Priests of Asran,” Illan says.
James nods his head and remembers the slain priests they came across in Asran’s temple during their foray into Saragon. “Wonder what they are doing here?”
“We’ll soon see,” he says.
They bring their force to a stop before Lord Pytherian who gestures to the priest next to him. “Black Hawk, James, I’d like you to meet Brother Willim.”
The priest steps forward, nods and says, “Glad to make your acquaintance.”
“He and his brothers have come to join the fight against the Empire,” Lord Pytherian explains.
“Many of our brethren have died at the hands of the Empire,” Brother Willim states. “Asran has sent us to aid in whatever way we may.” He indicates his brothers and adds, “We are the Hand of Asran.”
Illan clears his throat and then says, “I thought the priests of Asran were nonviolent.”
“For the most part that is true,” replies Brother Willim. “I and the others you see here are part of an order that fights when necessary to preserve Asran’s name. Sometimes a weed must be pulled or a diseased branch removed.”
James grins at the symbology he uses in describing the Empire. Druids, that’s what they are. “We are more than happy to have those of Asran beside us this day,” he says. “A great battle lies before us, the first of many before we see the lands of Madoc free again.”
The first rays of the morning sun crest the horizon and strike the upper battlements. He dismounts and motions for the other leaders to gather round. Taking out his mirror, he says, “Let’s see the layout of their camp before we begin.”
They gather round, including Brother Willim, as the image shifts and a bird’s eye view of the enemy’s camp appears. Crossbowmen line the palisade and the area behind is filled with men. Currently it doesn’t look as if they’re preparing for battle, they must think none is forthcoming after the night’s events.
“That’s a lot of men,” Jiron says from over his shoulder.
“Yes,” agrees Brother Willim.
Once they have a good idea of the composition of their troops, he scrolls the view further away from the camp. As he moves it along the road leading south, they see another force of foot soldiers marching to reinforce the men outside their walls.
“How far away do you think they are?” James asks.
Lord Pytherian says, “Couple hours at the most. If they ran maybe an hour.”
After another brief scan in the other directions, they find that the men coming from the south are the only other force on the way. Putting away the mirror, James glances around at the others and says, “We better get this over with before they arrive.”
Mounting back upon his horse, he glances around at the sea of faces surrounding him. Hard to believe a year ago all I was worried about was whether or not I studied hard enough to pass the next test. Now I’m leading an army to battle. Dave would have loved this.
To Brother Willim he says, “You and your brothers stay near me.”
Brother Willim nods and falls in behind. Miko comes to ride next to him as does Illan.
“Let’s go,” he says and they move to the gates. A clattering of metal announces the locking mechanism has been released and the gates begin to swing open. Off to the side are four small catapults which a crew of Madoc soldiers will bring forth and line up behind them on the far side of the river. During the meeting last night, Lord Pytherian suggested using them to batter down their palisade. Said it would save lives if James’ forces could gain the other side quickly.
“We need to quickly get the catapults within range of the palisade and be ready should they launch an assault,” he says as he rides through the gates. Moving fast, he breaks his horse into a trot and is soon crossing over the bridge to the far side of the river. The Hand of Asran runs with ease and keeps pace with him.
They make it just past the bridge before the enemy takes notice of them. A flurry of activity is seen on top of the palisade as enemy crossbowmen move into position. The palisade gate swings shut.
“I don’t think they’re planning on coming forth,” Illan says as they reach the point where the catapult’s volley will strike the palisade.
James glances to the enemy fortification, shut tight and daunting. “Let’s get set up first,” he tells him as he dismounts. “Then we’ll see what we can do to draw them out.”
Illan starts organizing their troops while James takes Devin and Moyil, along with the package Devin’s carrying, to an area a dozen yards further toward the palisade. Glancing at the crossbowmen on the walls he hopes they stay put for a few minutes until all is in readiness.
He takes the package and unrolls it on the ground. Within are three six foot staves, each are sharpened on one end. Attached by a leather thong to the other end is a crystal, glowing a deep crimson. One of the staves has a red chord tied to it just beneath the crystal.
Handing Devin and Moyil each a staff, he takes the one with the red chord and moves to center himself before his men. Raising it high, he plunges it into the ground. When he has it secured and not likely to fall over, he says to the other two, “Do the same with yours, ten yards in either direction.
They nod their heads as Devin moves to the right and Moyil moves to the left. Once they reach approximately the specified distance, they turn back and glance to James. When they receive his nod, they drive their staves into the ground. After they’re securely within the ground, he and the boys return to where the others are waiting. Some look at him questioningly about the staves but he gives no explanation.
By this time the catapults are in position, a wagon of large stones stands ready by each. He has Jiron and the fighters from The Ranch station themselves just behind the line of staves. Delia and her slingers are placed just behind them. Brother Willim with his brethren move to stand near James. The Black Hawk banner bearer moves to the fore and stands just past the line of staves. At that a cheer erupts from the Black Hawk Raiders who are arrayed to either side at the rear.
James glances back to the walls of Lythylla. The gate stands open and he knows Lord Pytherian has riders and fighters ready to come to their aid should he require it.
“Cowards!” he hears Stig exclaim when the enemy remains behind their palisade.
“It’s not cowardice to remain behind a fortification,” Illan says loudly. “Why should they meet us in battle when they can defend from a point of strength? It’s obvious we’re going to attack.”
All of the strategies James worked on had one element in common, the enemy was to attack. He’s not sure if what he plans will be as effective going up against a foe that is entrenched behind a protective wall.
An idea comes to him and he has Devin ride back into Lythylla. When Illan raises an eyebrow in question he just grins and shrugs. Shortly after he enters the gates, Devin reappears again followed by several wagons full of barrels.
The wagons roll forward and come to a stop by the catapults. “Oil and pitch,” James finally says to Illan.
“Going to burn the palisade down?” he asks.
“Doubt if it will do that,” he says. “But it will annoy them and give us a smoke screen.” He moves to the officer in charge of the catapults and asks, “Can you hit the wall with the barrels?”
The officer turns and gauges the distance to the palisade and replies, “Might. Not sure how they’ll fly once released.”
“If you can at least get close it will be worthwhile,” he tells him.
“Close for sure,” he says and then has his men begin loading one barrel at a time into each catapult’s cup.
“Fire when you’re ready,” James tells him.
Once all the catapults have a barrel in their cup, the officer yells, “Loose!”
The lever on each is pulled and the arm launches the barrels toward the palisade. Four fall short while one containing tar manages to hit the wall near the gate. A cheer goes up from the men as the arms of the catapults are once again pulled back in place. Another barrel is placed within the cup and let loose.
James watches the second volley fly overhead when all of a sudden he feels the familiar tingling of magic. Atop the palisade, he spies the warrior priest with arms upraised. When the tingling spikes, a fireball materializes as it flies toward the catapults. About to cast a counter spell, he feels another tingle, this one closer.
Brother Willim throws a small, green object into the air and says a few unintelligible words. The object begins
