Nearer still, in more irregular array, many clusters of armed men crouched behind full-length shields shining angrily in the morning sun. The groups farther back used their protection, casually bobbing heads and torsos to see the battle's progress. Those closer, within range of the defenders' longbows, huddled in tight balls, exposing no arm or a leg as a target.
With each volley of the rockthrowers, the answering fire from the manchicolations and loopholes in the castle's walls would cease, and the men in the field would creep a little closer, their scaling ladders and belfries dragging behind them. From high on the keep, Alodar could see that, long before the clusters reached the outer wall, they would converge into a single continuous ring of attackers.
'Yes, it would take a large force to break through to us,' he finally agreed, 'but Iron Fist has never fallen to assault.'
'It takes more than stone and iron to defend this mound,' the sergeant said. 'Muscle pulls tight the bowstrings and swings the broadswords, and at last muster we numbered fewer than two hundred fighting men. Two hundred for over half a mile of wall.'
He shook his head with lips pulled into a tight line of disapproval. 'A mere two hundred, because Vendora wanted to flaunt her might along the southern border. Almost every garrison in Procolon stripped to nothing, so that those petty border kingdoms think to stop their raids and return to bickering among themselves. Hah, I wonder if those raids seem so important to her now? Fully provisioned, we could withstand anything that Bandor could throw at us. As it is, only the great height and thickness of these walls have saved her crown and pretty neck this long.'
'But her miscomputation was no worse than mine,' Alodar said, spreading his palms outward. 'How would anyone but a sorcerer surmise that one of her most faithful vassals would suddenly lose his reason and plunge through that gap in the west, just when she was here? The gates clanged shut on noble and craftsman alike who happened to be here, and none claim to have foreseen it.'
'Yes, it is strange,' the sergeant said. 'The ferocity of the attack, the way he drives his men on with no regard for their exhaustion. I have heard it whispered about more than once at night that Bandor has lost not his reason but his will. Like a mere craftsman, he has been possessed.'
Alodar blinked with surprise, but before he could reply be was interrupted by one of the observers.
'He has found a spot and is signaling for us to proceed.'
'Sweetbalm, luck is with us today,' the sergeant exclaimed, jumping his thoughts back to the task at hand. 'Start bringing up the beams and lashings.'
Alodar stepped to the stand and released the splinter from the clamp. Holding it at arm's length, be dropped his hand a fraction of an inch. The basket sank correspondingly, and the wheel again started to spin. He retraced his steps, and it shot across the sky to hover directly overhead. Finally, as he lowered the splinter, it settled gently onto the floor of the bartizan. Again the giant crank was a blur as the wheel spun, but it turned not nearly as fast as when Morwin had first propelled it.
Alodar rapidly recited another incantation, virtually indistinguishable from the first. When he was done, he flung the splinter high into the air with a dramatic gesture while the basket remained unperturbed on the ground.
The men-at-arms wasted no time in loading two large notched beams into the basket. Morwin against cranked up the wheel, and Alodar removed a fresh splinter and spoke the incantation. Moving with more haste than before, he brought the splinter directly to the clamp; the basket with its burden hurled from the castle to the cliffs. The sergeant directed some small corrections until the basket hovered directly below the ledge that the rider had found. Morwin moved the clamp and secured the splinter in the new position.
After the gondola was unloaded, the entire process was repeated many times, with each worker intent upon his tasks. Alodar broke the spell upon the return. Morwin rewound the crank and the men-at-arms packed a new load of beams, brands, or lashings. Another incantation and fixing of a splinter in the clamp and another bundle would be delivered to the ledge in the distance. Several hours later the men-at-arms were the passengers for the final two trips, and then the job was done.
Weary from the concentration, Alodar looked to the west. 'How long will it take them to assemble it?' he asked.
'At least six hours. They must take care to tune it to exactly the same tension it had here. Every shot will count, and they can waste none on range calibration,' the sergeant responded, his voice now showing some excitement. 'With just a bit more luck, Bandor's entire siege train will be smoldering ashes by nightfall.'
They fell silent and waited, listening to time being marked off by the rhythmic crash of rock and swish of arrows below. Near dusk, Alodar sprang up from his vigil excitedly.
'Look, they are signaling that they are ready.'
As he spoke, a flaming brand arched upwards from the ledge and down into the valley, disappearing into the silhouettes of the tents formed by the setting sunlight.
A minute passed with no discernible change in the campsite; but then as the second shot was being launched, the central tent became alive with flame.
'A hit, a direct hit on Bandor's tent,' the sergeant shouted, 'Look at it take hold of that dry canvas! It will spread to the others in no time at all. And look, here comes the next missile right on the mark as well.'
A second tent burst into flame, and then a third. Even from the distance, Alodar could hear an alarm gong sound and the rising hubbub of voices.
'They are shifting targets now; good men.' The sergeant banged his fist down on the wall. 'Let us see how those wagons can stand up to a little heat.'
The incendiaries began falling more rapidly as the crew on the ledge gained confidence in their engine, raking their fusillade back and forth across the pass, starting fires at random in the densely packed train. Alodar could see. some of the blazes start up and then quickly be snuffed out; but for every one extinguished, two more sprouted elsewhere in the camp. In some places, the isolated pinpoints of light had converged into large walls of leaping flame, brilliant even against the setting sun.
Finally trumpets sounded from somewhere within the widening conflagration, and the siegecraft directly between the camp and the castle ceased their firing. Throwing arms and cranks were battened down, rocks tossed back upon supply wagons, and the engines began to withdraw. A frantic mob of men burst from the flame and confusion, like seeds from a flattened melon, and ran to meet them, alternately waving greater haste and pointing up into the cliffs from which came the. rain of fire. Alodar heard the zing of arrows from the castle walls increase intensity as the defenders, unchallenged for the first time in days, vented their frustrations. The assault from the west ground to a halt.
'The range is too great for them to be accurate enough,' the sergeant crowed. 'They will never dislodge us from there. A few more hits will put the fire completely out of control. Let us see what kind of siege Bandor can conduct, demon driven or not, with no supplies and only this brushland to forage on.'
Alodar watched intently as the mangonels were turned into a straight line, halfway between their previous positions and the enemy camp. A hint of hope soothed the rumble in his stomach as the first volley fell short of the ledge, crashing into the face of the cliff far below. His eyes swept back and forth across the panorama, up to the ledge, into the burning camp, and back to the engines and the growing mass of men surrounding them.
'But wait a moment,' he said suddenly. 'I see the logo of similarity on that cape down there. See, the tall one, next to the second mangonel. He is a master, just as Periac is. I fear that my craft will play a still larger role in the affairs of the day.'
As they watched, the master thaumaturge directed the three running up behind him to dump the sacks they carried onto the ground. A pile of small stones discharged from each. Two more men lugged into position a huge cauldron and began filling it from a wagonload of jars that halted alongside.
'Lodestones,' Alodar cried with sudden recognition. 'Tracers. By the laws, let there be no marksman good enough for this task among them.'
A small group of archers formed a single file; as they passed the cowled figure, he deftly chipped a fragment from each rock and gave it to one of the bowmen. After each had received his charge, he bound it to the shaft of an arrow and let fly at the catapult in the cliff above.
Alodar watched the ledge as the missiles hurled upwards. Most were wide of the mark, splintering against hard rock and falling back to the floor of the pass. Several minutes passed as volley after volley did no harm. But finally one shot struck the frame of the catapult and held fast.
