The Deepcombers

Chapter Fifty Nine

There was movement in the boulders and bowfeigors helped a silver clad soldier stand and shake dust from his green cape. Captain Owen had survived and he raised a red fist to rally the Calbian Defense Corp. A cheer resounded along the broken wall. But the Crols broiled in the blackness beyond the breach. "Ah peckaca alocer. Ah peckaca Alocer," their inquisitors chanted.

"Is everyone alright?" Lon asked. He glanced around and collected weary nods from Saeya, Valari, Melcart, Jarl and Tharus. They looked to him for direction as they caught their breath.

"I'm worried," Saeya admitted. Jarl crouched beside her on a bent knees with a raised glove; he was ready to protect her should more blocks fall from above.

"Should we stay.. Defend...?" Melcart asked, "Or... Should we try and kill him?" He looked at Lon and clearly hoped for the later.

"Okay. Here's the plan." Lon gathered his company. "Trumpets will sound and the Crols will charge." he looked at Jarl who nodded yes, that is indeed what would happen next. All around them the red-skinned reptilians scrambled to get into position to repel the inevitable assault.

"But we're not gonna stay.." Valari suggested.

"No. We'll hustle down from here and flank around... and... then..." Lon trailed off.

"And then?" Saeya asked.

"And then I'm gonna roast him," Lon smiled confidently to sum up his rather weak plan. "You all just help me get him alone," he held out his arm and Tharus stared at his bandaged palm with some confusion. The others knew what to do. One by one they reached out their arms and the group made a ball of hands and then the swampkin joined in too. Lon looked at each of their eyes and spoke his final instructions. "In the end, it'll just be me and Horne. You all must stay well back. Especially you." He glared at Saeya. She nodded and remained uncharacteristically silent, but these were unusual circumstances. "Let's go."

Lon squeezed through the crenelations and jumped into the darkness beyond. He forgot how much heavier the mail cloak made him. He fell hard. Oomph. It was too high for such leaps of faith and his sore body was sharply pained. He'd jarred his right leg muscle and wrenched his sore shoulder again. It was reckless and stupid, but nothing was broken.

When the white-haired lad looked back, he saw how the others followed in a far more sensible manner. Jarl and Tharus had climbed down first and now helped the females descend. Melcart dropped and rolled and then uncoiled in admirable fighting style; he sprang up with the short sword he'd taken from the catacombs in his hand. Lon realized then for the first time since he'd arrived that they were a fledgling Warden Key Company and he was their leader now. He was responsible for the safety from this point forward. Another notion struck; who could stand against them?

Jumping to the ground was like crossing into a different realm. The youth had surveyed the area from above of course but being immersed in the stench and gore below was beyond macabre. This gloomy netherworld was slick with bodies and blood. The ground was strewn with little scraps of hair and flesh and smoldering heaps of charred wood that were once wagons and wall scaling implements lay strewn about the field. Dead soldiers' stomachs were cut open and blue intestines spilled from their bellies. Arrow shafts poked up everywhere and the smell of death filled the air.

Trumpets sounded in the south and the Crolean assault commenced. Now they must briskly hustle away from here or be mauled by the marauders and caught in crossfire. The Crols were clever and they'd sent their entire force flanked by their elites. Only the rabble at the center aimed for the breach while the rest set forth to scale the walls the same as they'd done before.

Hundreds of Crolean swordfeigors issued a bone-shivering wail as they shifted toward the hole in the settlement. The rampage resembled a rockslide. The rush forward separated the assailants into three constituent groups. At the very front of the force were skilled climbers and wiry blade-soaked ninjas who needed no help overcoming perforated walls. Then came skirmishers with coiled ropes. These were macefeigor and their mission was to sprint forward and throw their grapnel hook into the remaining crenelations and climb, come what may. Behind them were pole-vaulters who'd taken fence rails and whatever else they could find to make spring poles. They held their long sticks over their heads as they ran. When they came within striking distance of the wall, they'd lower their poles and vault-up the incline as easily as if they'd jumped the distance themselves. Once atop the parapet they'd fight as hard as possible to make space for more assailants. There were dozens of these brave wall-vaulters and the Calbian bowfeigor opened on them first. They picked them off when they crossed into their field of fire. Once struck, the pole vaulters tumbled, and their loose wooden rails fall to the ground and impede other attackers.