Defiance and Conquest

Defiance and Conquest

The two elder gods, tall and shadowy, leaned forward over the game board. The culmination of their contest was approaching. For over two centuries they had aligned their forces against each other and now all strategies and manipulations of mortal man had been completed. It was to be decided upon the outcome of one final throw of the dice; one final battle.

###

A delegation of five horsemen, each indistinguishable in their white flowing robes, approached the gates of the Citadel. As one, they brought their horses to a stop. The huge bronze gates were closed, denying them access. The lead rider moved forward and yelled to the sentry atop the wall,

"I wish to speak to your commander."

Zan leaned over the battlement. He was nominally in charge while Baron Harden was attending the capital; a two – week journey into the heart of Myca whose borders started here at the gates.

"I am Captain Zan. What do you want?"

"My name is Be'led. My lord O’dan, leader of the Harn, order's you to open the gates and surrender yourselves to his mercy."

This was stated with such arrogance and confidence that disobedience was not even a consideration. Zan looked incredulously at those below him.

"Why would we do that? The Citadel has stood as a divide between your people and mine for over three hundred years. It would take more than a couple of desert tribes to get past us to raid our lands. Go back to your leader and tell him that the Citadel will stand and no one with evil intent shall pass."

"I will take your answer back to my lord. We come not to raid, but to conquer. I will see you on the wall."

Wheeling his horse, he re-joined the others and they set out the way they had come.
Zan lifted his hand to shade his eyes from the glare of the sun. There appeared to be a large dust cloud on the horizon.

###

The Harn arrived three days later. A force of five thousand horsemen, twenty thousand warriors and two thousand men armed with crossbows, made camp just out of arrow range. Zan and the entire complement of fifteen hundred fighting men, their families and the town’s merchants watched from the walls in shock and fear as they surveyed those arrayed before them. The Citadel was the gateway which separated both lands. An unassailable mountain range of rugged cliffs traversed the continent and was only accessible at this point, through the heavy bronze gates set within the wall. The wall itself, stretching two hundred meters long, standing eight meters tall, and being four meters thick at its base. A two meter wide parapet ran across the top for the defenders. It had never been conquered, but it also had never had these sort of numbers pitted against it.

###

Zan immediately dispatched three riders to the Capital, informing the King of the force aligned against them. He knew his request for reinforcements would be in vain, as it would take a minimum of a month for a relieving force to arrive. All he could do was to hold them for as long as possible, to prevent their incursion into Myca from advancing too far. He also issued an order to evacuate the families and any civilians who were not prepared to fight. The majority left. Wives and children tearfully knowing they may not see their fathers, husbands, brothers or sons again. Some merchants and workers volunteered to stay and aid in defence of their livelihoods and their country. This brought his fighting force to eighteen hundred men.

###

A small dark haired man sitting in his room with his elbows on the table and his head heavy in his hands, Zan contemplated his situation. He was not a Lord. He was but a simple soldier who through hard work, had risen from the ranks to become Captain of the Guard. He took a large swallow of ale, from the tankard beside him. It was not his first. There was a firm knock at the door and it was immediately swung open. Sargent Stefan, the next highest ranker and his good friend entered, closed the door and pulled out the other chair from the table and collapsed into it. Without saying a word, he reached over, picked up the tankard and threw it against the wall, shattering it. Zan raised his eyebrow inquiringly at his friend.

‘You need to keep a clear head,” rumbled Stefan, in a voice that was capable of sending a chill through a recruit, at twenty paces.

“You are in charge of the Citadel and all within. You are the example which we will be looking to Zan. We need you.”

Zan raised himself slowly to his feet supporting himself carefully, with head shaking slowly from side to side. He knew his friend was right. It was up to him to set the example. Without leadership, they would be over run and put to the sword within a day. Without leadership, they may as well open the gates and let the Harn through to rape and pillage the lands beyond.
Standing now at attention, he looked at Stefan with gratitude and knew what his duty was.

“Stefan, I want you to assign a skeleton watch on the wall, and have all the others and the volunteers assemble in the courtyard. I need to address them.”

Stefan leaped smartly to his feet and saluted. A smile played across his face.

“I thought you may want to do that. They are already waiting for you.”

###

Zan felt a chill of nerves go through his body as he made his way through the silent, waiting men, to the steps leading up the wall. He went up the first four and then turned to face them. He had never spoken to such a large gathering before, but he knew he needed to capture their hearts and fire their souls if the citadel was to hold. Slowly his gaze went over the assembly, stopping here and there as he recognized faces within the crowd. The silence held.
He started speaking; not in his parade ground voice, but in a strong clear, almost conversational voice, drawing the men closer.

“I look around me and I recognize many who I've known for years. Not only do I see formidable soldiers, but tavern owners, bakers and servants. I see young boys and venerable grey beards among the fighting men. You had a chance to leave with your families, but you did not. You have stayed to help defend our way of life.”

Zan took a deep breath and glanced at Stefan who nodded and silently urged him to continue.

“You have all been up on the wall. We are up against the greatest army Myca has ever faced. The Harn are strong and fierce warriors. You know we are heavily outnumbered, but we have advantages. We have the mighty walls of the Citadel which have never been breached. The enemy themselves can only come at us in limited numbers, which I believe we can hold and overcome. The King has been notified and an army will be with us as soon as possible. The most important thing though is that we are Mycans. I see in front of me Mycans who are willing to defend and to sacrifice their all, for their lands and their families. We have the stronger imperative. We are fighting for survival, whereas the Harn are only fighting for conquest.”

Zan looked around the multitude before him. They seemed to be standing straighter and be looking less despondent. His voice was rising as he strove to inject a final hope into the assembled throng.

“Look to your left. Look to your right and behind you. These are your brothers. In the coming weeks, these men will be there for you and you for them. There is no stronger force than men united in a common cause.
Men of Myca. Warriors of the Citadel. Our time is now! “

Zan drew his sword and thrust it to the skies. On that final note, a great roar went up from his men. Stefan repeated the action and others followed, till all were yelling defiance at the Harn.
Slowly with an ever growing swell, a chant arose; louder and louder till the very stones rang with the power of the words.

“Warriors of Myca! Warriors of Myca! Warriors of Myca!”

###

The next day, the attacks began.

###

The bottle neck and mountains prevented the Harn from throwing over whelming numbers into the fray; even so it was a close call. The sky was black with crossbow bolts as they provided cover for their warriors advancing with ladders and grappling hooks to scale the walls. Many of these men were cut down by the archers on the walls as they employed their long bows with deadly accuracy. The fallen ladders were swiftly picked up by others and finally raised against the wall. Grappling hooks were swung and caught tight high above. The attackers began to swarm up swiftly, eager to be first to stand upon Mycan territory. Zan had instructed his men not to cut the ropes or dislodge the ladders until the soldiers were near the top. The defenders using long poles, pushed against the weighted ladders sending them careening and sliding into others, pitching bodies down onto those who were milling and waiting to climb. Stones and hot oil were also cast down, adding to the problems of the attackers. The battle lasted most of the day before the Harn pulled back. A mixture of bodies, live and dead were piled high against the wall, with the cries and wails of those broken and burned sounding pitifully from among them. None had gained the top of the wall. The honors that day went to the defenders, but the loss of men they suffered was something they could ill afford.

###

For twenty-six days they had defended against the attacking forces of the Harn. Zan looked down from the top of the high stone wall, at the multitude of broken and bleeding bodies which were lying at its base. The coppery smell and the taste of blood and dust was everywhere. They had finally repulsed the latest attempt to overrun them.
Sliding down to a sitting position and with his back against the wall, exhaustion claimed him. He looked to his right and spied that his second-in-command once more had made it through. The loss of an arm had not slowed him.

"Stefan," his voice croaked.

He swallowed several times, trying to lubricate his throat. After four hours of directing the battle and screaming his defiance in the face of the foe, there was little voice left. He tried again to capture the attention of his deputy.

"Stefan". This time his voice carried. He gave the signal for the men to stand down and for Stefan to join him.

###

The remaining one hundred manned the walls, for the last time. All suffered an injury of one sort or another. Exhaustion was evident as they leaned heavily upon their dented and chipped weapons. They could feel the end coming, but pride kept them standing. They knew that the attack they were about to face would not stop until they were swept away and the gates were flung open to the invaders.
Zan stood at the centre of the wall, Stefan at his side. This would be the final test for them all. His voice carried clearly to those around him and also to those below.

“Warriors of Myca. Only once in many generations, an event occurs wherein heroes and legends are made. These men go on to be revered throughout history and for evermore. You are such men and this is such a time. It is with pride I stand with you. You could have done no more for me, for your brothers in arms, or for your country. I salute you, Warriors of Myca”.

The Harn below also raised their weapons in salute to a valiant foe…. and then charged.

###

One of the two Elder-Gods sat up and stretched as the other swept his final piece from the game board. Looking at the other, he said,

“Best out of three?”



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