The Eagle's Flight

Chapter 239: No Shelter

With the promise of temporary peace, a flurry of activity ensued for the next month. Small vessels sailed under the cover of night, evading the few ships from Alczar on patrol to reach the quarries by the Weolcan mountains. Returning with a bounty of stone, the defenders repaired their walls and strengthened the harbour defences. Other preparations were made as well. The fletchers worked every hour to make arrows, the smiths repaired armour and made new weapons, and the engineers built defensive machines.

The besiegers did not stay idle either. As soon as ships arrived, unloading troops and supplies, they turned south to fetch more. From Portesur and Fortnn, they gathered every available soldier and every piece of grain. Meanwhile, they dug trenches and raised earthworks to the east, improving their defences considerably. Another bridge across the Mihtea was built along with further fortifications on the northern bank, solidifying their control.

After thirty days, both attackers and defences set aside their tools and took up arms instead.

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The first fighting occurred to the east. While ten thousand mercenaries held the camp against any sortie from the garrison, thirty thousand more marched against Belvoir's relief forces. Some hours after dawn, they clashed. Rather than a single battle, the southerners spread out across the contested land between their camps, forcing the Mearcians to spread their inferior numbers in the same manner.

Skirmishes erupted everywhere under skilful control by the mercenaries. In places where the defenders had strong fortifications, they made only brief attacks before retreating, tying those troops down. Crude vessels sailed down the Mihtea, threatening to land beyond the outer defences, drawing more soldiers.

Meanwhile, cavalry rode south before turning east and finally north, circumventing most of the defenders. Reaching their opponents, they made quick strikes against the Mearcian lines, who scrambled to face this new enemy, before retreating again. In this manner, they hit Belvoir's forces repeatedly on several fronts, only taking longer engagements where it was favourable.

For the first hour, the duke himself stayed in camp, directing reinforcements as needed. Once those ran out, he moved troops from one front to another as he deemed necessary. In the second hour, he joined the fray in person, leading his own retinue against the mercenary cavalry to even the fight. In the third hour, he gave the order to begin the retreat rather than risk his men fleeing senselessly.

They did so with discipline, pulling back from the battlelines as directed, supporting each other to prevent a rout. Still the mercenaries hounded them, ensuring there could be no opportunity they might hold their camp. Mile after mile, the Mearcians pulled back until the southern commanders were finally satisfied. They returned to their own tents, preparing for the next day.

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With the relief army pushed back, Prince Saif readied his troops the following morning for the final assault on Herbergja. Troops marched out on both sides of the river, threatening the walls. Meanwhile, the majority of soldiers boarded the galleys waiting by the shore. With many oars and slaves, the ships were fast and manoeuvrable, even without the favour of wind.

At first, the fleet sailed into open waters rather than follow the coastline. Once away, they moved north before finally turning east, headed directly for the harbour of Herbergja.

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Inside the city, the garrison stood ready, expecting to be attacked once the truce expired. Even with troops sighted beyond the walls, the marshal kept most of his soldiers back; once ships were seen on the horizon, he sent them to defend the harbour.

A wall separated the port from the city itself, which the castle formed part of. Beyond that, the fortifications stretched out into the sea to surround the piers, protecting the ships inside. The black-clad soldiers now streamed out to fill all these defences, their eyes staring west. Little by little, the enemy vessels grew in size, as did the sense of unease seen on the soldiers' face. Scores of ships could be seen, filled to the brim with enemies.

The silence was shattered once they came within range. On the two outermost towers that lay at the end of the walls in the sea, a ballista released. The great spears flew through the air before tearing through several men, who died with dreadful screams. The Order soldiers roared in response, readying themselves for battle.

Arrows soon followed from both sides. With crenellations and shields, the defenders fared better; yet the outer walls were thin, allowing only few soldiers to fill them, and reinforcements could not arrive in time to replenish the losses. With skilled manoeuvres by the captains, the galleys approached the outer fortifications and turned sideways. Numerous grappling hooks flew through the air, latching onto the stonework, and ladders fell down to bridge the gap. Shouting their battle cries, the mercenaries scaled the walls.

Meanwhile, other ships sailed straight for the entrance to the harbour. Ignoring the large spear throwers on the outer towers, the galleys swept forward. The drums beat a swift pace, and the slaves pulled their oars dutifully. Soldiers that outnumbered the garrison ten to one stood ready to overwhelm the city.

Sir Asger, standing on the parapet of the castle, gave a command. A banner by his side conveyed the message. By the pier, a vessel was unmoored and set adrift, sailing towards the harbour entrance. An archer shot a fire arrow, igniting the craft. With lamp oil poured across its deck, the flames quickly spread.

The banner atop the parapet repeated the message. Another vessel was pushed away, soon to be set aflame. And another. Soon, the harbour was full of ships on fire. They did not burn long before revealing their cargo holds were filled with oil as well. Some of them burned too quickly, sinking before they reached the enemy galleys. Others burned too slow, and the mercenaries used long poles to keep them away. A few burned exactly right that the exploding conflagration spread to the attacking ships.

Navigating through the flaming shipwrecks, the galleys pushed on. This placed them within range of the catapults on the castle. Stones rained down. As the ships finally reached the piers, Order soldiers stood ready to face them, fighting in tight quarters. While their defenders fought, the citizens of Herbergja sat behind locked doors, praying to all the gods to be spared.

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The assault continued throughout the day. The outer walls fell. But they proved only narrow pathways into the city, which the garrison blocked or defended with ease. In the harbour itself, flaming debris lay scattered across the water, hindering the galleys. As night arrived, further attacks became unsustainable. In the darkness, they dared not sail the ships further in, unable to avoid the many dangers that awaited hull and oar. The retreat was called; the soldiers already on land were left behind to die or surrender.

~~~~

Once the ships had returned south the day after, the prince called a council of his mercenary captains.

"How did we fail?" Saif asked with a harsh look at the commanders, who all wore grim faces.

"We ran out of time," one of them explained. "They turned the harbour into a trap. Once night fell, it became impossible to navigate."

"They must have had the whole garrison ready for us," another argued. "They knew we posed no threat by land."

"Don't cast blame on us," came the swift response from the captain, whose company had been positioned on land. "We did as we should."

"Which was not much."

"What did you expect? We have no breaches in the walls, and the moat is in our way."

"Enough," Saif intervened. "We underestimated their defences at the harbour. We must attack on several fronts, next time."

"We need the stone throwers to breach the walls as they did before. Not just to the south, but also to the east."

"That will take weeks. Attacking the eastern walls means establishing a permanent camp north of the river."

"You complain because you would have to do real work."

"How dare you! My men led the first attack on the breach."

"Again, not accomplishing much."

"Quiet!" Saif stared from one captain to another. "We have the numbers on our side. We simply need to be able to use them. We will build stone throwers north of camp in addition to those we already have." He looked towards Adherbal, who nodded in confirmation.

"Very well, Your Highness." The commanders muttered their assent.

"We will make our next assault once we can attack the city from every side."

Another round of murmurs indicated agreement, and the captains left the tent, as did Adherbal, relaying the command. Later that day, a large company of soldiers crossed the Mihtea to construct a permanent camp. Engineers soon followed, beginning the assembly of siege machinery.

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