Tale of Four

Oliver looked ahead at the massive sandstone fort. After a week of marching, they had been strangely left undisturbed by the desert raids and thinking on it, he could only assume there was one cause. ’Lord Limb has been busy.’ Saying to himself, the ground rumbled as thousands of men got into position. Along the flanks, shield walls were created as cavalry took to the sides. With shields raised, they waited for any skirmishing forces that would come and try to delay the siege.

Next, a battering ram was pushed forward as men held shields over a number of soldiers carrying ladders towards the wall. A horn blew, and the march began. Atop the wall, bells tolled. Archers atop the walls waited, their hands fiddling with the arrows, waiting for the assaulting force to get within range.

"MEN!" Louis cried out, from atop his horse to the column of five hundred. Oliver was apart. As the main assault began on the front, he slipped his helmet on. "ON ME!" Louis cried and rallied the forces behind him. With his command, they rode out. Jeremy took to his side, joining the small jog that led a group of men to join the assault on the left side.

"Ser," Jeremy said between breaths. Although Olvier didn’t wish for him to join, now that he had been knighted, he had the liberty of deciding his own actions. All he could do was trust his student and his training.

"Jeremy. Don’t be the first to climb up. I know all men wish to be the first, but it is a death sentence. Hang back, as this is your first siege after all. Watch and learn. This is a real battle and will be completely different to the raid. Everyone here is mentally prepared in their mind that they could die. Have that in your mind as well." Jeremey took a deep breath and grabbed his sword, squeezing the hilt. With a determined nod and slight fear in his eyes, he pulled back.

"OH HOLLY!" Louis cried out the beginning of a song, with it a laugh from the marching soilder, the tension evaporating with it as they joined the song. Looking at Louis, he could see the man smiling beneath his helmet. "YOU STOLE MY HEART!" Louis continued, picking up the pace, leading the force to around just out of range of the arrow fire. From his side, he heard the first cries of pain echo across the desert as the main assaulting force entered the archers’ range and was attacked.

"OH HOLLY!" Louis and the men sang louder, drowning out the screams as the beating of hooves and shaking of the ground zipped past, intercepting a raiding force of cavalry that came to attack them. The two sides met, and with it an eruption of cries, steel and screams spread out. The engagement was quick and over in an instant, the two sides breaking away from one another and rotating around the engagement again. A few stragglers caught up in a fearsome melee. Those unsaddled ran back, whistling for their mounts. The few whose horses returned quickly climbed back on before the second clash happened, with the rest running for their lives, knowing they were an easy target.

"I WISH YOU WERE MINE!" Louis and those who had seen battle before carried on singing, ignoring the battle raging around them, trying to keep morale high. Oliver wished to join in the singing but couldn’t, not knowing the song of the Valley’s, "BUT YOU LEFT, AND I CRIED! OH HOLLY, WHY DID YOU CRY!" Oliver tensed up seeing the approaching desert cove that had reorganised faster.

"BRACE!" He and many other cire doubt, the march coming to a stop and singing ending. Lifitng his shield above his head, those on the deck with spears lifted them and stood firm, struggling to get a stable footing in the sand. Second past and just before they crashed, Louis’ voice boomed out again.

"OH HOLLY!" His words were drowned out by the sound of stampeding horses that ran through the line, charging into spears. Oliver randomly swung his sword at the nearest rider that managed to break through the line, missing as it zipped past, escaping before it was bogged down and encircled. Many men couldn’t even scream as they were trampled underneath hooves, whilst Desert riders trapped within the cluster of men were dragged off their mounts and butchered. Friendly cavalry arrived a second later, slamming into the side of the riders who had failed to charge through, engaging in a melee that quickly broke once again. The Desert riders reorganised and rode off, seeing their chances at slowing the march vanish, instead finding a new target to harass, chased by the valley forces.

"CHARGE!" Louis cried out, relishing the chance they had been given and stopped the singing, making a beeline for the eastern wall. Oliver followed, shield above his head as they entered the archer’s range. The sound of wind tearing was followed by thudding as shields blocked arrow fire, not a single man stopping, even if someone fell, running over their fallen comrades if they couldn’t be avoided.

Oliver stares at the sandstone wall, getting closer and more imposing. Looking back, he saw the main attacking force finally come into range, the battering ram crashing into the gate, as incoherent yelling took over, order and discipline vanishing in the face of battle.

Taking multiple deep breaths, he watched the sun disappear behind the walls and threw himself against it. Reaching into his sack and pulling out a green herb to numb pain, he threw it between his teeth and began to grind it as a ladder went up next to him. Men began their climb, those at the bottom holding the ladder in place as the defenders desperately tried to push it off. A few men pulled out climbing equipment they had trained to use in their homeland and stabbed them into the wall, expertly climbing up after years of climbing the valleys themselves.

Boulders and boiling water fell down. The individual climbers were unable to avoid it and crashed to the ground, screaming in agony, but were ignored as if they were believed to be a lost cause. Arrows continued to rain down, holding his shield up, he met Henry’s gaze. With a nod that conveyed everything. Oliver grabbed the ladder and began his climb, Henry right behind him.

From above, steel colliding with steel echoed as the first foothold began to form, whilst beneath him, shouts and cries ran over one another; whatever was wished to be said was lost in it. Arrows flew past, but quickly got less frequent as more men took to the wall. Pushing every distracting thought out of his mind, he reached the top and climbed over, joining the cramped melee, beneath his feet the body of the first few men who had reached the wall.

Stepping over them, he held his shield high and threw himself forward, bashing a desert warrior back, madly swinging down without any intent other than to make space. Beside him, Henry arrived, joining the melee, throwing the same meaningless strikes, holding his shield high to block a stray attack.

A desert warrior screams, his single cry causing the others to begin as well, as a war cry travels across the wall, the same one that had occurred during their raid. The effect was instant. Valley soldiers locked up, hearing an ear-piercing cry that drowned out any order being given, as they faced men appily willing to throw their lives into battle to defend a single inch of the wall that guarded their home.

Oliver lifted his shield, blocking a strike, and stabbed forward, his sword piercing through the gut of the attacker. Pulling his sword back, he moved his shield to block another attack, feeling it begin to break under the continued abuse it had suffered. Falling ever so slightly beneath its weight, he pushed, clenched his teeth, and used all his weight to push the attack back, stabbing forward to try and give himself space. His attack, cut along another man’s arm, distracted the defender just enough to be slain by another. Slowly, he pushed forward, men by his side using it as a chance to gain space themselves.

Every step squelched as he tried to avoid the bodies around him, having to step in their blood instead. Lifting his shield, he rapidly breathed and pulled back, feeling himself get tired from the small back and forth, his space quickly taken by another who was ready for battle. In the short moment of rest, he greedily sucked in air as his head snapped around, trying to find where to join the fight next. After ten seconds that he afforded himself, he watched as a Valley soldier inched backwards, obviously wishing to leave the fight and regain their breath. Placing a hand on the man’s shoulder, they switched out, and once more he began fighting.

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