The Quest - Smith Wilbur (читаем книги онлайн бесплатно TXT) 📗

'I think it is time for me to go down,' said Meren, and slid from the ladder to the parapet. As the next wave of enemy infantry came into bowshot range, he called to Hilto: 'Stand by!'

'Massed volleys!' Hilto called. His men sheathed their swords, and unslung their bows. 'Level! Take aim! Let fly!'

The volley of arrows rose against the early-morning sky, dark as a

swarm of locusts. It fell upon the Jarrians, the arrowheads clattering on bronze armour. A few went down, but the others closed ranks, lifted their shields over their heads to form a canopy and came on at a trot. Again and again Hilto's men fired their volleys but under the canopy of shields the Jarrians were undeterred. They reached the foot of the wall. The front rank braced themselves against the stonework, and the second clambered on to their shoulders to form a pyramid. The third rank used them as a ladder to reach the top of the wall. Hilto's men hurled them back, hacking with swords and thrusting with spears. Others climbed up in their place, blades clanging and rasping against each other. Men shouted, cursed and screamed in pain. A small group of Jarrians forced their way on to the parapet, but before they could exploit their advantage, Meren, Nakonto and Imbali fell upon them. They cut down most and shoved the rest off the top.

On the tower, Fenn and Sidudu stood at each side of Taita, choosing their targets with care, picking off the Jarrian captains as they tried to regroup their men at the base of the wall. When the assault faltered and failed, their arrows hastened the Jarrians back down the track. The enemy left their dead at the base of the wall but dragged the wounded away with them.

Soklosh launched two more attacks before noon. Meren's men beat back the first as readily as they had the chariots. However, in the next, the Jarrions came in three separate detachments, carrying with them hastily constructed assault ladders.

Simultaneously they struck at both ends of the wall and in the centre.

The defenders were already thinly stretched, but now Meren was forced to split them into even smaller units to meet the triple-pronged attack.

It was desperate fighting, and Taita climbed down to join in. He left the girls in the tower with bundles of arrows they had found in the arsenal.

For the rest of the morning the battle raged at the top of the wall. When at last they had thrown back the Jarrians, Meren's men were in poor shape. They had lost twelve men killed, and another ten were too badly wounded to carry on the fight. Most of the others were at least lightly wounded and all were close to exhaustion. From down the track they heard Soklosh and his captains shouting commands as they mustered a fresh attack.

'I doubt we can hold them much longer.' Meren glanced along the parapet at his men, who sat in small groups, drinking from the waterskins that Fenn and Sidudu had brought them, sharpening their chipped and

blunted blades, binding their wounds or simply resting, their faces blank and eyes dull.

'Are you ready to set fire to the buildings?' Taita asked.

'The torches are already burning,' Meren affirmed. Only the foundations of the wall were of stone: everything else, including the main building and watch-tower, was built of timber. The wood was old and desiccated and would burn readily. The conflagration would seal off the head of the pass until the flames subsided sufficiently to allow the Jarrians through.

Taita left Meren and went to the far end of the parapet. He crouched in a corner and pulled his cloak over his head.

The men watched him curiously.

'What is he doing?' asked one.

'He is sleeping,' answered another.

'He is a religious man. He is praying.'

'We need his prayers,' remarked a fourth.

Fenn knew what he was attempting and stood close to him, screening him with her own body and adding her psychic force to his.

After such fierce fighting, it took much effort for Taita to compose himself, but at last he broke free of his body and his astral self soared above the mountain peaks. He overlooked the battlefield and saw the massed Jarrian army, three thousand men or more thronging the track from the plain. He saw the next assault forming just below the fort but still out of sight of the walls. Then he passed over the mountain tops and looked down to the Kitangule river, and the distant blue of the lake.

He saw Tinat's men in the boatyards at the head of the river. They had overpowered the garrison, and were assembling and launching the boats down the slipways into the swift flow of the river. Already the first refugees were embarking and the men were taking their places on the rowing benches. But hundreds more were still trudging down the mountain path. He sank closer to earth and hung above the deep gorge that split the flank of the mountain. The suspension bridge that crossed it seemed tiny and insubstantial against the massif of grey rock. The last of the refugees were venturing out on to its frail timbers to make the perilous transit of the gorge. Tinat's men were helping the weak and elderly, and his axemen stood ready to cut away the bridge pylons and let the timbers fall into the dark void beneath. Taita jerked back and swiftly regained full control of his body, then uncovered his head and sprang to his feet.

'What did you discover, Taita?' Fenn asked quietly.

'Most of our people have crossed the gorge,' he replied. 'If we leave the fort now the rest should be over the bridge by the time we get down to them. Fenn, you and Sidudu will make ready the horses.'

He left her to it, and strode down the parapet to Meren. 'Rally the men. Set fire to the walls and take to the path before the next Jarrian attack develops.'

The men's spirits rose when they understood that the fight was over.

Within a short time they were marching out of the rear gates of the fort in tight order, carrying their weapons and the wounded. Taita stayed back to supervise the lighting of the fires. The Jarrian garrison had used rushes as a floor covering and sleeping mats. Now they were stacked along the base of the walls. Meren's men had sprinkled them liberally with lamp oil from the quarter-master's stores. When the lighted torches were thrown on to them the flames shot up immediately. The wooden walls caught fire with such ferocity that Taita and the torchmen were forced to run for the gates.

Fenn was already mounted on Whirlwind, holding Windsmoke for him to mount. They trotted down the track together, following the last platoon, which was headed by Meren and Hilto.

When they reached the suspension bridge they were dismayed to find that at least a hundred refugees had still to make the crossing. Meren forced his way through the throng to find out the reason for the delay. Five old but vociferous women were refusing to venture out on to the narrow planks that crossed the deep gorge. They were lying flat in the middle of the path, screaming with terror and kicking anyone who came near them.

'You want us to die!' they howled.

'Leave us here. Let the Jarrians kill us, rather than throw us into the pit.' Their terror was contagious. Those coming up behind them were hanging back now, and holding up the rest of the column. Meren seized the ringleader round the waist and threw her over one shoulder. 'Come, now.' She tried to scratch his face and bite his ear, but her crooked black teeth made no impression on the bronze visor of his helmet. He ran with her on to the narrow way, the planking trembling beneath them, the drop on each side seeming bottomless. The old woman wailed with fresh voice and Meren realized suddently that his back was wet. He roared with laughter. 'It has been hot work. Thank you for cooling me.' He reached the far side and set her down. She made one last effort to claw out his eyes, then collapsed in a whimpering heap on the path. He left