You’re right. The engines will be moving to support the main attack now.
Check that light. It keeps getting brighter. No. Now it’s going away. And it doesn’t seem like anyone else noticed. That is a little too weird.
Oh. Right again. Must have been a signal to the Shadowlander officers. The racket is getting louder, now you mention it.
No, I don’t like the sound of it either. The attack had become generalized.
Ho! Look over there! Now we have it there, too. What? The light. Don’t you see it? There behind the ramparts?
Yes. I see. You’re right again. It is different. This is kind of like the cold light of a full moon tinged with a little blue, isn’t it. Yeah. It’s kind of misty, too. Sort of like we are seeing it through an autumn haze. There. Now it’s so bright you can make out the fighting on the far wall.
Right. Fighting. That means they have a foothold there already. And Mogaba don’t have any reserves to send up.
Guess we can bend over and kiss our butts goodbye, friend.
21
Damn! The shit is about to start flying but I just realized that when I started putting these notes together I missed doing the famous formula Croaker always used to open a new volume. So here goes:
In those days the Company was in service to the Prabrindrah Drah of Taglios, a prince whose domains spanned territories more vast than those of many empires. We were participating in the occupation and protection of the recently captured city Dejagore.
And I hope princie and his skag sister the Radisha choke on our memory.
22
The shitstorm arrived. Every man defending our section of wall stayed busy returning some of it to the southerners. The illusory doppelgangers appeared to be hard at work, too. Funny how they could wander around never getting hurt.
“One-Eye! Goblin!” I yelled. “Where the hell are you peckerheads? What the frack is going on over there?” I watched a feeble arrow pass through a Murgen a dozen yards away. “What’s that weird light?” Whatever it was, it gave me the feeling that things could get worse than they looked already.
I got no response whatsoever from my favorite wizards. “Rudy. Flip a flare ball out there. Let’s see what’s sneaking around.” Until recently my now less than favorite wizards had provided spot illumination. “Bucket! Where the hell are Goblin and One-Eye?” Ten minutes ago I had three pairs underfoot, all of them squabbling. Now they were gone and the Shadowlanders were quieter than mice below.
Red Rudy yelled at Loftus and Cletus. One of their engines thumped. A blazing ball arced outward, its only purpose to betray what the enemy was doing in the darkness.
Sparkle piped, “I seen them headed downstairs.”
Suckass. “Why?” This was for sure not the time to wander away.
“Uh... They went to talk to Pirmhi and some of them guys from the Horse Brigade.”
I shook my head. I would choke them myself. In the middle of a goddamned battle,...
The fireball revealed that the Shadowlanders had pulled back from the wall. Spending our missiles was a waste. The southerners were setting up engines capable of throwing grapnels in clusters. That was a stupid way to do business against an I eighty-foot wall with veteran soldiers on top, but if they wanted to play it that way we would accommodate them. I was confident that, no matter how many ropes they threw up, we could cut or dislodge their lines before they could climb that high, then, with lungs ready to fall out and arms too heavy to lift, get busy defending their bridgehead while other equally dim types made the same climb carrying a half ton of equipment apiece. “Goblin!” Goddamnit, I wanted to know what that light was over there.
The Shadowlanders had not scaled the wall there. They had attacked off of earthen ramps. Not a surprise. They had been building the ramps from the beginning. That was just basic siegework, employed since the dawn of time and one reason your thoughtful modern prince builds his stronghold on a crag or headland or island. Naturally, the besieger spans the last dozen feet with a bridge he can yank back if a dangerous counterattack develops.
The flareball smashed down four hundred yards out. It continued to provide light until the southerners buried it with sand originally intended to extinguish firebombs if we used them. “One-Eye! I’m going to have your wrinkled balls for breakfast!”
I snarled, “Cletus, keep throwing them fireballs. Who’s got messenger duty? Feet? Go find Goblin and One- Eye... Never mind. One of them brain-damaged runts just turned up.”
One-Eye said, “You rang, milord?”
“Are you sober? Are you ready to get to work now?” He stared at that nasty light across town without me coaching him. I asked, “What is that?” The light seemed more sinister now.
One-Eye raised a hand. “Kid, why not take this gods given opportunity to exercise your least well-honed talent?”
“What?”
“Be patient, dickhead.”
The mist or haze or dust started getting thicker. The light grew brighter. Neither happening buoyed my confidence. “Talk to me, old man. This ain’t the time for any of your bullshit.”
“That haze, that ain’t no mist, Murgen. The light ain’t shining off it. It’s making the light.” And the mist and light were drifting toward the city.
“Horse puckey. You can see where there’s a light burning in their camp.”
“That’s something else. There’s two things going on at once, Murgen.”
“Three things, halfwit.” Goblin had arrived, beer breath and all. Presumably all was well at the secret brewery, the arrangements with the cavalry were secure, and he and One-Eye could take time off to help the Black Company defend Dejagore.
Heaven help them if Mogaba discovered what they were doing with grain supposedly set aside for the horses. I wouldn’t have a prayer of saving their butts nor would I offer one.
“What?” One-Eye barked. “Murgen, the man is a walking provocation.”
“Watch, bonehead,” Goblin countered. “It’s already happening.”
One-Eye gasped, suddenly astonished, then frightened. Ignorant in the dark arts, it took me longer to catch it.
Shadows snaked through that blazing dust cloud, thin things little more than suggestions but with something flitting back and forth amongst them. I thought both of a weaver’s shuttle and of spiders. Whichever, web or net, something was forming inside the blazing dust.
They did call him Shadowspinner.
The glimmering cloud grew larger and brighter. The web grew with it.
“Shit,” Goblin muttered. “Now what do we do about this?” “Exactly what I’ve been trying to get out of you two clowns for the last five minutes!” I bellowed.
“Well!”
“Maybe you could pay attention over here if you can’t do anything about that!” Bucket yelled. “Murgen, those fools have gotten so many ropes up that we can’t... Shit!” Another barrage of grapnels fell amongst us. In moments they showed the strain that meant some moron was trying to climb them.
So much for my belief that there was no chance the southerners could scale my wall.
Guys were hard at work with knives and swords and axes. Imaginary people stood around looking fierce. I heard a man grumble that if he had half a brain he would have sharpened his knives. Rudy reminded him, “If you kept your pecker in your pants more you’d have time.”
