“I said you’re dismissed, Ragnarson.”
“Yes sir.” He bumbled out, returned to his post.
“Congratulations,” Trubacik said, and hobbled off.
“What was that?” Haaken asked.
Bragi tried to explain, but did not understand. He just could not see himself as deserving.
Each afternoon el Nadim drew his men up in formation, offering battle. Each afternoon the defenders of el As wad refused his challenge. This afternoon started no differently. El Nadim advanced to within extreme bowshot. He sent a herald to demand the surrender of el Aswad. The Wahlig sent him back empty-handed.
The besiegers then customarily withdrew a few hundred yards. Once a lack of response was assured they resumed their labors.
Not this time. El Nadim did not back down. He and the Disciple came to the van. The Disciple raised a fist to the sky. His amulet waxed brighter, till he seemed only a shadow of a man caught in the heart of eye-searing fire.
The lightning struck. Ten thousand boulders from the barren countryside leapt into the air and poured down on the Eastern Fortress. The lightning struck again, lashing the satellite guarding the approach and the curtain walls connecting it with the main fortress. The defenders launched flights of arrows, none of which reached their marks. The pillar of light remained rooted. The doors of heaven remained open, pouring out the fury of a dozen storms.
A section of wall collapsed, some stones bounding away down the slope, plowing furrows through the enemy ranks.
The Invincibles sent up a mighty war cry and surged forward. They scrambled up the mounds of rubble, pelted by missiles from the battlements. The going was slow. The rubble was piled high and was treacherous underfoot.
The Wahlig formed a force inside the break, and called for Hawkwind, who was more familiar with this sort of fighting.
The Disciple and most of el Nadim’s army began moving across the slope, toward the fortress’s western face.
The Invincibles attained the summit of the rubble and rushed down into a storm of arrows and javelins. They crashed into the Wahlig’s men. Yousif’s sketchy line dissolved. A melee ensued. The Disciple’s troops continued to pour in, regular soldiers following the more dedicated Invincibles. One band turned to assault the gate.
The Disciple summoned the fury of heaven again. Lightning hammered the taller, stubborner western wall of el Aswad.
The northmen were stationed on the main fortress’s north wall, near its juncture with the west wall, away from the fighting. Haroun joined them. “Damn them,” he said. “They were smart. They made it impossible for Father to sortie.”
Neither Bragi nor Haaken responded. They were completely involved in themselves, expecting Sanguinet’s order to fall in and move into the fighting. They jumped each time lightning struck, though the Disciple’s point of attack was well away.
No order came.
A wide section of western rampart gave way.
In the outlying sub-fortress Hawkwind launched a counterattack. He overwhelmed the enemy there, rushed into the main fortress, attacked the enemy entering through the west wall. The fighting there was among buildings and sheds, with little room for maneuver. It was confused and savage.
Hawkwind cordoned the breeched area, then pushed forward, slowly compressing the invaders. The last were evicted before sunset. The day’s combat produced roughly equal losses for each side.
The defenders began clearing rubble and erecting a secondary barrier behind the gap in the west wall. The sub-fortress they decided to abandon.
The hour was late but Bragi was still at his post. There were no reliefs. Haaken was napping. So it went all around the wall. Every other man sleeping. The night was still but for the sounds of construction work.
Haroun strolled out of the night. He said, “Tomorrow they’ll be rested and we’ll be exhausted. My father thinks tomorrow may be the end.”
Bragi grunted. El Nadim was thinking. Just wear the defense down. Morale was at a low ebb anyway, with the Wahlig’s men convinced that the struggle was hopeless.
“We need help,” Haroun said. “But help isn’t going to come. The tribal leaders are deserting us.”
Again Bragi grunted.
“They will join el Nadim. The desert will fill with men eager for the plunder of el Aswad. Something has to be done.”
“Your father is doing what he can.”
“Not everything. I have talents he won’t use. He’s afraid I’d get hurt. I could turn it around if he’d let me.”
“How?”
“I came to thank you. For what you did out there.”
“No thanks needed. Anyway, you already did.”
“There’s a debt now. My family always pays its debts.”
Bragi didn’t argue. He had a low opinion of human gratitude, though. Look at his father and the Thane. No two
