it up, but arrows from each tower and the gate struck among them and drove the Alur Meriki back behind the wagons. By now even the bridging sections were riddled with arrows.
The section the Alur Meriki had tried to bring forward sat half in the mud and half on the bridge. It looked too far for Esk kar to reach with another pot of oil. Or was it?
“Wait here, Grond,” he ordered. He swung down to the lower parapet then dropped to the ground. He shouted for messengers even as Corio and Alcinor raced to Esk kar’s side. “Find some small jars, about this big,” he held his hands about six inches apart. “I want to throw oil further out on their bridge. And get me more oil!”
Corio nodded to his son and Alcinor raced away. “Can we hold them, Captain?” The master artisan looked frightened.
A meaningless question. “Only the gods know, but they’re not inside yet. Just keep the gate wet and our own torches away from the oil.” Only a few paces from where they stood, villagers frantically pumped at the water wheel, sending a steady stream out into the ditch.
Esk kar mounted the steps, ignoring the tiredness in his legs, and returned to the top. He knelt beside Grond, picked up a shield, and used it to cover himself as he looked through the slit. He saw warriors trading shafts with the defenders while others prepared for another rush.
Alcinor arrived, breathing hard and carrying two small clay jugs, the kind used to hold wine in the alehouses. He also carried several long pieces of cotton. Alcinor dipped the wine jug into the last remaining pot of oil and held it until it was almost filled. He stuffed one of the rags in the mouth of the jar. Finally, he took another rag and wiped the outside of the jug clean, rubbing hard to remove every trace of oil.
Alcinor saw the puzzled look on Esk kar’s face. “The rag will act as a stopper, like a wick in a lamp,” Alcinor explained. “We light the rag before you throw it.” To demonstrate, he called for a torch, then touched the rag to its flame.
Esk kar watched in fascination as fire blossomed from the rag. It did burn like a wick in a candle, without being instantly consumed. Esk kar took the flaming wine jug, braced his feet, and hurled it over the wall. The pot almost went too far but landed on the new section of bridge, shattered, and burst into flames. The fire didn’t burn as intensely as before, but would certainly slow the attackers.
For a few moments it did. Then a large group of warriors rushed down into the ditch, where they used their hands to scoop up the damp mud and toss it on the burning planks. That smothered the oil and flames at the same time. Arrows struck down many, but others replaced those killed or wounded, throwing more wet earth onto the platform.
Wherever the mud landed, the fire hissed and smoked, then died out immediately.
“Damn them,” Esk kar swore. The archers’ fire from the walls wasn’t enough to impede them. “We need more archers,” he shouted to Grond.
“Stay here and throw as many jugs as you can.” Esk kar dropped down from the parapet, running back to the north side where he found Gatus directing men and shouting orders. “Gatus, we need more archers. They’ll be at the gate in a few moments.”
“I’ve sent you every man I could find. Totomes says they’re driving the barbarian archers back.”
“It’s taking too long. They’re almost ready to assail the gate. Strip every archer from the other walls. Send villagers to take their place. Just get more men to the towers.”
Leaving Gatus, Esk kar raced back up the steps to Grond’s side, who’d prepared another oil — filled wine jug.
An arrow whistled through the slit just as Esk kar was about to look, the shaft passing between the two men’s faces. They looked grimly at each other. But he needed to see, so he took a quick look. He saw plenty of activity across the ditch, but so far the Alur Meriki hadn’t tried to push another section out. They would at any moment.
“Captain, this is the last of the oil,” Grond said. “But I think I can throw this close to their wagon, if you can cover me.”
Esk kar looked at Grond’s huge arms and shoulders. This jug appeared smaller than the others. If anyone could do it, Grond could. Nevertheless, he’d have to stand up, brace himself, and make the throw. But if he could reach the wagon…
“Archers,” Esk kar shouted, “ready yourself for a volley.” He picked up his shield. The soldiers readied themselves. Grond held out the jar and Alcinor touched the torch to the rag, which flamed up for a moment before it began to burn steadily with a smoky haze.
Esk kar glanced up and down the parapet. The archers looked grim but ready with their bows. “Now!” They rose up and released a hasty volley, enough to distract the closest barbarian archers for a moment.
In that instant Esk kar arose, holding the shield to protect Grond, who grasped the top edge with his left hand and hurled the wine jug.
Esk kar pulled Grond back down with his free hand as arrows hissed above them. Esk kar’s shield had four arrows protruding from it. Glancing through the slit he saw that Grond’s throw had been true. The jug landed just in front of the wagon and burst into flames. Splashes of oil reached and immediately began to burn the dry wood of the cart. The warriors tried to quench the flames, but Orak’s archers drove them back.
Covering most of the slit with his shield, Esk kar watched as the warriors reacted. At first they did little. Then an Alur Meriki war leader gathered warriors with shields and ordered them in front of the cart, to protect those who would extinguish the flames.
This time the attackers not only extinguished the fire, but draped two hides over the wagon’s front. Meanwhile warriors loosed arrows at a rapid pace as they prepared once again to place the final bridge section. Esk kar and his men had slowed their advance but not stopped it.
With a shout the barbarians swarmed around the wagon and took up another section of bridge. They ignored the flickering flames that lingered in places underfoot as well as the arrows that flew into their ranks. Esk kar heard the heavy section drop into place beneath the gate. This time a few of the attackers paused long enough to scoop mud and dirt from the ditch onto the new platform, trying to wet the wood before the villagers could throw more burning oil.
Fresh reserves of enemy fighters, most with bows but many with axes, rushed out from behind the wagons, shouting war cries as they came. They raced across the muddy and smoking bridge, stepping on the bodies of their fallen, whose dead and dying bodies littered the ditch. Now twice as many barbarians stood under the gate, arrows nocked and ready to shoot at anything that moved.
Esk kar felt the first axe thud into the gate. “Stones!” he bellowed. Men dropped their bows and began heaving the river rocks over the gate.
A second and third axe began plying on the gate, the sound ringing throughout the village. Their shields protected the Alur Meriki somewhat from falling stones.
“Stones! Arrows! Now,” Esk kar yelled. Stones flew over the top, until the melon — sized rocks fell like rain.
Alcinor, his voice cracking, shouted at the men, reminding them to drop the stones straight down, for the men below surely pressed themselves as close as possible to the wall, to avoid the bone — breaking missiles.
In a few moments of frenzied activity the defenders exhausted all the stones on the parapet. Alcinor screamed for more rocks, and Esk kar risked an arrow to take another look through the slit. The first wagon side had been pushed into the ditch. The Alur Meriki wanted to move the wagon as close to the gate as possible. They’d tried to guide it directly onto the bridge, but one side must have gone over faster than the other and now one of the wheels had caught in the mud. Still, three of the wagon’s wheels rested on the bridge, and another cart carrying a fresh supply of wood and oil had taken its place.
Warriors crawled and stumbled in the ditch now, ignoring the arrows that flew at them, to free and move the first wagon forward. Esk kar heard them cursing the clumsy vehicle that clung to the mud and resisted their efforts, until nearly twenty men lifted and pushed it free and completely onto the bridge. Meanwhile other barbarians seized tools and axes and rushed back to the gate, ignoring the flames that still burned in places.
A fresh group of warriors, weaponless but carrying large wooden shields, came forward to protect the axe men hammering at the gate from the stones. Damn the gods, there seemed to be no end to these barbarians.
Esk kar turned back to Grond. “I’ll try and find more fire jugs. The first wagon is within reach now, and they’re bringing up another.” The big man nodded, and Esk kar swung from the edge of the parapet to the ground for the third time. There he nearly knocked over Narquil.
