A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

That was where Oliver and his team almost bit their first sign of defeat. It wasn't just a question of strength, it was a question of weight. The lot of them grabbed a section of the rope and leaned back as far as they could, trying to find the purchase of the slick snow with their feet, but the great wooden gates hardly seemed willing to shift.

"Amberlan," Oliver said, once it was clear that they weren't making any progress. "You go at the back."

The stout man didn't question him. He merely nodded, and the men made room for him further to the back of the rope. They tried again. Amberlan was able to sit down even further, making use of more of his weight, whilst the rest of them scrambled, pulling the rope taught.

Finally, the gate shifted, dragging a boatload of snow with it, like a giant wooden spade. Once the inertia was broken, they put even more strength into it, to keep it moving. Little by little, the gate was brought open, until it crashed against the back wall.

Then would have been the perfect opportunity to open the right-hand side, but given the sweat that coated all their faces – including Oliver, who'd had to exert a considerable amount of strength – none of them were particularly excited by that fact. Besides, with just a single gate open, ten soldiers could easily walk through side by side. They'd even be able to get their wagons in comfortably. Experience tales with My Virtual Library Empire@@novelbin@@

The soldiers outside the walls stopped their climbing of their ladders with several stupefied murmurs, hardly able to believe that the gate had already been pulled open. Not long at all had passed since Northman himself had first clambered up the wall. Ten minutes, at most.

Cormrant had just been in the middle of bringing the archers forwards, along with the rest of the soldiers, about to have them climb the walls themselves.

The Vice-Commander looked as surprised as the rest when he saw Oliver and his men emerge through that same gate. It was hard to say that he even looked pleased by it, so acute was the furrowing of his brow as he oversaw the men's use of their ladders.

Oliver crossed through the gate to approach him, and Cormrant too came to meet him.

"The walls are already clear?" Cormrant asked. "And the inner-fort as well?"

"The walls are," Oliver responded. "They've retreated to an inner-keep. I thought you might like the opportunity to regroup the men before we confronted them."

Cormrant eyed him carefully. He seemed to continually expect something more to Oliver's words than what he'd said, as though all nobles kept within their speeches some sort of barbed-tongue insult that only the most astute might grasp.

"And the Commander?" He said finally. "Where is he?"

"Unsure," Oliver said bluntly. "We went right, he went left. I expect he shouldn't be too long, if he still hasn't dealt with the foe."

"They've cleared the top of the wall, Vice-Commander!" A soldier shouted down the ladders, as a series of shouts was transmitted down the length of the wall.

"Where's the Commander?" Cormrant called up.

"He said he's going to head down the ladders!" Came the reply.

"There he is," Amberlan said, pointing. Oliver had to stick his head back around the gate to see. Just as Oliver and his men had done, Northman was clambering down the tower's long ladder to the floor. Rickety and freshly made as it was, it seemed clear that the ladders were the addition of the new occupants.

If Oliver had to guess – from the mound of rotten wood placed near the walls – there had once been a staircase that led up there, giving the defenders great access to walkways above.

It took Northman a second to spot them by the gate after he'd rather tensely reviewed the state of the encampment. Then he was walking towards them, rather gleefully, nodding to himself all the while, as his men came down after him – a great number of them by now, easily more than twenty.

"Ahoy!" Northman said once he'd neared. "I see you've already got the gate open!"

Cormrant patiently remained in place, though he said nothing to reply.

"I have," Oliver said back. "Or more like, we have. Heavy things – impossible to shift one of them alone."

"I don't doubt it," Northman said. "Casualties? Any?" He looked towards Oliver's men seeing the healthy state of them.

A shake of Oliver's head met his words. "They were too heavily on the retreat to put up much of a fight."

"The same goes for me," Northman said. "Not a man experienced so much as a light cut. By the time Cormrant's lot came up over the walls, they were already set to running."

"Yet, it doesn't seem to be over yet," Cormrant said grimly. "You," he pointed to Amberlan, relay the order for all men to gather by the gate."

"No, it is not," Northman agreed. "Far too many tents for a hundred men here. It seems that they've been purposefully downplaying their numbers for the scouts. Where's the damn rest of them?"

"The keep, or cave, or whatever you want to call it," Oliver said, pointing to the stone tower at the other side of the encampment and the opening in the cliff beyond it. "They all went rushing in there, as though there was gold to be had."

"Dangerous," Northman acknowledged grimly. "Very dangerous indeed. What say you, Vice-Commander?"

"I say, a hundred well-trained soldiers is more than enough to deal with what they have left. How many fell by your hand, Commander?" Cormrant asked.

"We slew fifty reinforcements up there, at least, and Ser Patrick dealt with twenty-five men before that," Northman said.

"If we assume their number to be three hundred, from the number of tents, then perhaps we can assume that there's two hundred in wait inside that cave," Cormrant moved. "Less inviting than previously assumed… But there are still no walls to breach."