A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

"Even…" Northman said grimly. "At best. If there's more to that cave – which I'd wager there is, else they would have forced their numbers to the walls – then we'll have trouble." Continue reading stories on My Virtual Library Empire

"Would they? You don't think that they merely fled there because we caught them off guard?" Cormrant asked.

A shrug came in response. "Could be," Northman said, "perhaps they're simply buying time for those woodland reinforcements. But to me, it doesn't add up. You don't get this many men together without having some sort of a leader. I've seen men that could be the equivalent of Sergeants amongst them, but no higher Commander. Doesn't add up to me."

"A trap, then," Cormrant mused. "You still wish to pursue this before sundown?" A glance at the sky, and the sun was already setting. If they pushed any further, then they'd be fighting in the dark.

"I don't think we have a choice," Northman said. "Besides, it ain't like the sunlight is going to help if we have to fight inside a cave."

"Ten minutes then," Cormrant decided. "That's all the soldiers will have to rest before the last of the light goes. We'll have to attack before then, torches in hand. We haven't lost a man today, Northman, are you sure you want to push for this?"

The Commander seemed reluctant, but his answer still came firm. "We're not going to be able to take the walls that easily again. It needs doing now."

"Then we'll rest the men and have them level these tents, then we attack, using every man that we have," Cormrant said.

"Aye."

A short while later and the encampment was a different place entirely. With the tents up, it had seemed frighteningly hostile, where a man could have been hiding around any of the many corners. It was like a tiny city in its arrangement.

Now, it was mere flat and barren ground. Everything was flat, and gotten rid of. It was only the fires that remained. In preparation for the dark that would soon come, Northman ordered them built up high. With the amount of nearby wood, that wasn't a particularly challenging task, and now ten large bonfires cast an orange glow against the grey cliff walls, melting the snow nearest them.

A sombre mood had settled amongst the soldiers. Never did a man want to fight in the dark, without the sun to guide him.

It didn't help that where they were headed didn't strike them as particularly inviting. The anxiousness of their commanders had infected the men as well. Despite clearing two solid victories within the space of a few hours, they didn't move like confident men.

They knew what numbers likely awaited them. The chances of their casualty count remaining at zero seemed outright preposterous.

Still, even with their mounting exhaustion, they had a job to do. A mission that was far harder even than initially suspected. Where there had meant to be a hundred men, they'd already killed two hundred and now they expected to face at least two hundred more.

Even with those odds so different to what they were meant to be facing, the conditions for victory hadn't changed. Wipe out the bandits and secure Fort Dollem for General Skullic. That was their task. Even with so many already killed, they'd be called failures if they didn't finish the job.@@novelbin@@

"Light them," Cormrant ordered.

Every fifth man had been given a torch to carry. The men were lined up in rank and file, a square of a hundred men, spears in hands and swords at hips. The twenty men at the back also had quivers and bows slung over their shoulders. In other words, they were as well prepared as their supplies allowed them to be.

And now the torches were lit. All the preparations were done. There was little that they could hope for, or even rely on, apart from the continuing light that drifted off those torches. They helped.

So too did the presence of Oliver Patrick.

He stood at the front of the square of men, alongside the other two Commanders. No one questioned that now. As a noble, it was already his right, but after his deeds that day, it would seem preposterous to put him anywhere else.

It was the light of their torches and the faith in the fabled strength of a Patrick that kept the men's morale from flagging too severely. Northman knew that more than any. He realized that this sort of assault – in the condition they were in – wouldn't have been possible without the presence of the young noble. Not if he wanted to save as many men as he could.

"You need no rest?" Northman asked Oliver quietly. He was well aware of how active the boy had been that day. Unlike them, he'd also travelled all the way there from the Academy, as well as playing a most active role at several key points during the day.

"I will rest later," Oliver said. He felt none of the fatigue that the others were likely beginning to feel in the moments of quiet that had developed, as the adrenaline faded. It was rare that their missions dragged on this late, after all. They'd usually make camp come the dark, then resume things once first light came.

"Then we'd better not leave you waiting," Northman decided. "Cormrant, if you would."

The Vice-Commander nodded, and held up his arm. "All units… FORWARD!" He declared, swinging his arm downwards.

It was a needlessly formal display that was typical of all militaristic action. Northman and Oliver took to the stone steps ahead of the rest. It had been agreed that Cormrant would take up the rear as the rear commander, so that the men could receive instruction from both directions.

The soldiers followed soon after them, towards the foreboding darkness of the stone tower's entranceway, that glooming gaping mouth straight into the bowels of a cliff face.

As they passed under the tower's entranceway, Oliver looked up, noticing a rusting portcullis there. He pointed it out to the Commander, who narrowed his eyes at it. Yet another obstacle, should the enemy still have access to it.