Stuck in Magic 23

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Chapter Twenty-Three

Unfortunately for us, if not for him, Harbin didn’t get himself turned into something small and slimy – which would have been a little redundant – by the time Furness hove into view.  My advance scouts had already cantered around the town, making sure there wasn’t a relief force within marching range, but I took the time to stop and survey the defences for myself before committing my troops to the attack.  Furness was, according to the maps, a teardrop-shaped town, with a small castle – a citadel – resting at the pointy end.  The ever-growing shantytown surrounding the walls – too low to make an effective defence, even if the hovels and shacks weren’t pressing against the stone – made it look more of a smudge.  I shuddered in disgust as the wind shifted, blowing the stench of piss and shit and I didn’t want to think what else towards me.  The town was asking for a disease outbreak, if one wasn’t already raging within the walls.  I was surprised the townspeople hadn’t demanded their overlord remove the refugees from their lands.

He probably doesn’t give a damn what they have to say, I mused.  He has the entire town in a stranglehold.

My eyes lingered on the citadel for a long cold moment.  It was small, certainly when compared to the mansions of Damansara or military bases back home, but I had to admit it was effective.  The walls were invulnerable, if one didn’t have magic or gunpowder.  The warlord’s troops could simply retreat behind their defences, if there was a serf revolt, and let the rebels batter their heads against the walls until relief troops arrived or they simply gave up in despair.  My spies had told me there was a small middle-class community within the town, big fish in a small pond, who would happily support a revolt if there was a real chance of actual success.  Right now, their chances of victory were pretty damned low.  They simply couldn’t get rid of the citadel.

I smiled, coldly, as I shifted my gaze to the rest of the defences.  The town hadn’t been designed for defence, not when their overlord knew the townspeople would turn against him if they thought they could actually win.  His troops were frantically digging trenches in front of the walls, pushing refugees into the town or forcing them to flee into the barren countryside.  I guessed they’d been too afraid to try to make their way to town.  The warlord’s heralds had been telling everyone that the cityfolk were going to kill, rape and burn their way through the countryside.  I was fairly sure the vast majority didn’t believe the lies, but … I shrugged.  Right now, it didn’t matter.

A cannoneers rushed up to me.  “Sir, the cannons are in position, ready to bombard the citadel.”

I nodded.  The citadel was the final defence line, as far as the defenders were concerned.  They hadn’t realised how vulnerable it was … hell, they’d cleared most of the refugees away from the citadel, unaware I’d hesitate to fire at human shields.  Harbin wouldn’t have any qualms about slaughtering innocents, I knew, but me … I liked to think there was some honour in way.  My lips twisted in disgust.  Cold logic told me that wasn’t true.  And besides, if we let the bad guys think human shields would deter us, they’d all start rounding up serfs and turning them into shields.

“Good.”  I looked at Harbin, who was studying the defences with a disdainful eye.  “Have one of your men take a demand for surrender.”

Harbin turned to his juniors and barked orders.  I listened, even as I turned my eyes back to the defences too. The local rules of war, such as they were, called for the attackers to offer the defenders a chance to surrender and march out with full honours, perhaps even give their parole before they were allowed to go home.  Apparently, aristocrats could even be released after they promised to pay a giant ransom when they got back to their own lines.  I’d assumed they always broke the agreement, once they were safe, but the history texts insisted the ransoms were generally paid.  I supposed it made a certain kind of sense.  If you broke the rules too openly, no one would accept surrenders and promised ransoms in the future.

My eyes narrowed as I studied the defence lines, while a horse and rider galloped towards the citadel, lance raised in a parley pose.  They seemed designed to soak up bullets, although it was clear they hadn’t seen just what massed cannons could do.  I’d made sure my people knew how to fire canister shots and grapeshot, even scattershot … although that was very much a last resort.  It was unfortunate, for them, they hadn’t started taking their defences seriously until very recently.  I rolled my eyes.  Damansara hadn’t needed me to point out the advantages of taking the offensive.

The rider tumbled backwards, an arrow protruding from his chest.  Harbin let out a cry of shock.  For once, I agreed with him.  Shooting a man on parley was a declaration of unrestricted war, all the more so as the cavalryman wasn’t a commoner but a born aristocrat.  They’d just told us the battle was going to be fought to the bitter end.

Unless the townsfolk rise up behind the lines, I thought.  We’d tried to slip some weapons into the town, but it was difficult to say what would happen.  The locals might sit on their hands until it was clear we were the winners, just to make sure their former masters were in no position to take revenge.  We have to send them a very clear message.

I glanced at the messengers.  “Cannonballs to the citadel, canister to the trenches.  Fire!”

The air seemed to boom as the cannons fired a ragged volley.  I heard screams in the distance as the first cannonballs slammed into their target, severely damaging the citadel.  The trenches, oddly enough, were tougher  – the soil absorbing much of the canister shot – but started to weaken rapidly.  I snapped more orders, watching coolly as more and more cannonballs found their target.  The citadel’s walls started to collapse, cannonballs punching deeper and deeper into the interior.  Archers appeared on the battlements, trying to get into position to shoot  the cannoneers.  My musketmen greeted them with a barrage of musket balls.  Their accuracy was shitty, but they were firing so many balls that it hardly mattered.  I felt Harbin’s discomfort as a handful of archers fell from the walls, dead before they’d even had a chance to return fire.  Cannonballs could take down the walls of Damansara as easily as they were breaking through the citadel.

A low rumble split the air as the citadel started to collapse, chunks of heavy stone slipping from the walls and crashing to the ground.  I had a glimpse of halls and barracks within the building, before they were obscured by smoke and dust.  A man ran through the open, waving his hands frantically; a cannonball passed right through him, practically vaporising his body before slamming into the far wall.  The poor bastard hadn’t had the slightest idea what had hit him, I reflected, as I turned my attention to the defences.  He’d been grossly unlucky and paid the price.

The trenches were wavering, men either massing behind rapidly-weakening defences or running for the inner walls.  I didn’t blame them for breaking.  Their leaders were bully-boys too used to doing what they pleased to realise they’d run into someone who could fight back, while the majority of the troops were either raw recruits or mercenaries.  The latter would be thoroughly pissed at their nominal commanders.  By shooting down all hope of a parley, they’d ensured their troops wouldn’t be offered any terms.  The best they could hope for was unconditional surrender.

“Order the advance,” Harbin said.  He turned to a messenger.  “The heavy cavalry are to advance and break their lines.”

“Belay that order,” I said, without looking at him.  “The cavalry are to stay where they are!”

Harbin snorted.  “You don’t want to break their lines?”

“There’s nothing to be gained by throwing the cavalry into a meatgrinder,” I said.  I might have thought better of it if Harbin himself had been leading the charge.  He was something of a coward, true, but if the order came to advance and he didn’t … he’d be finished.  His own men would disown him.  “Let the cannons wear them down a little more.”

My eyes drifted over the gathering troops as I beckoned to the messenger.  “Order the 3rd Cannons to load canister, then wait for the enemy charge,” I said.  “They are to fire when the enemy troops reach the halfway point.”

“Yes, sir.”

I smiled grimly, although I knew the carnage was about to get worse.  The enemy didn’t have many options left.  I’d surrounded the town.  They could fall back and force me to assault the town directly, which would probably lead to the townspeople putting a knife in their backs, or charge my lines.  They’d made damn sure surrender wasn’t an option.  We’d be quite within our legal rights to mutilate, enslave or simply execute anyone unlucky enough to be taken prisoner.  I sighed under my breath.  It would have been so much easier if they’d let the messenger deliver his message, then send him back with a rejection.  Harbin would probably make a terrible fuss if we accepted their surrender …

The enemy troops charged.  I sucked in my breath as they advanced in a ragged line, screaming and chanting as they came.  A handful of shots rang out as the musketmen, their positions now half-shrouded in smoke, opened fire, but the enemy troops kept coming.  They didn’t really have a choice, I reflected as I counted down the seconds.  Their own commanders had seen to it.  I hoped the bastards were leading the charge in person.  They deserved everything that was about to happen to them.

I winced as the cannons boomed, unleashing a hail of canister right into their lines.  It disintegrated, men dissolving into bloody mist as the cannons tore right through them.  The attack stopped dead, the muskets petering out as it became clear the attack had been completely shattered.  I’d hoped to see at least one or two wounded men trying to crawl back to their lines, or raise their hands in surrender, but it looked as if the entire force had been slaughtered.  I felt a surge of hatred for their commanders, to the point I hoped they’d stayed behind just so I could hang them personally.  I’d met a few officers who’d made me want to roll a grenade into their bunks, but none of them – not even the one who intended to be the youngest general in the army – had sent their men to their deaths so blatantly.  I wanted to wrap my hands around their necks and squeeze.

Instead, I looked at Harbin.  “You can send the cavalry in now.”

Harbin turned and barked orders, summoning his horse as his subordinates charged forward.  There was no resistance as they crashed across the former lines, scattering what remained of the defenders.  I only saw a handful of men as the cavalry maintained their advance, pushing all the way right to the walls.  They seemed to be consumed with fighting … I hoped that meant the townspeople had risen, determined to free themselves before we did it for them.  I told myself  that was a good thing.  They’d find it easier to press their claim to their own town if they liberated it themselves.

I sighed, inwardly.  There were factions in the city who thought taking over the warlord’s lands was an absolutely brilliant idea, parcelling the farms and plantations out amongst the noble families and landowners.  It wasn’t going to be easy to dissuade them, not after the warlords had repeatedly cut supply lines to ensure the city remained under their thumb.  And yet, they’d be storing up trouble for the future.  I made a mental note to see what I could do about it, then summoned my bodyguard as the rest of the fighting died away.  It was time to advance into the town and take possession of the citadel.  The former citadel.  Right now, it was barely anything more than a pile of rubble.

“Impressive.”  Rupert sounded disturbed as he surveyed the ruins.  “That could happen to our walls, couldn’t it?”

I nodded.  I’d told him as much, time and time again, but he hadn’t really believed me.  The sheer destructive power of modern weapons was hard to grasp emotionally, even if one understood – intellectually – what they could do.  Rupert would have to tell his family, and the rest of the aristocracy, that times were changing.  They’d have to come to terms with the lower classes, and make room for them, or be swept away as the new world took shape and form. 

Horst came up to me.  “Your orders, sir?”

“Detach a company to take possession of the citadel, but keep the main body of the troops outside the town,” I said.  I didn’t want any incidents.  “If anyone survived the bombardment, they are to be taken prisoner – if possible – and held until I can take a look at them.  If not …”

I smiled, grimly, as I summoned our bodyguards and led the way down to the town.  The trenches had been utterly shattered, torn and broken bodies littering the ground … it was hard not to feel sick as I realised the bodies had been so badly damaged I couldn’t tell how many men had been killed.  Young and old, aristocratic and commoner … they were equal in death.  I snapped orders to a messenger, commanding him to organise work parties to bury the bodies before they had a chance to decompose.   The last thing I wanted was a disease outbreak in my rear.  It would be an utter disaster.

Rupert looked sick as we made our way to the walls.  The shantytown had been devastated, dozens of makeshift hovels torn to shreds by the cannons and the retreating soldiers.  The walls were damaged too, great chunks of stone lying everywhere in mute testament to the sheer force of the offensive.  The streets beyond were occupied by Harbin’s troops, a handful of men in commoner clothes and a single woman.  Fallon, I guessed.  The junior sorceress – I’d been told she was barely a journeywoman, if that – was wearing a commoner dress and carrying a wand in one hand.  There were no other women within view.  I feared that wasn’t a good sign.  The townspeople feared us as much as their former masters.

Fallon stepped forward.  “My Lord,” she said, curtseying to Rupert.  “This is Allen, leader of the rebels.”

I saw Harbin’s lips twist in distaste as Rupert nodded to Allen.  He was a stranger – I guessed he was a merchant, someone who’d made a fairly good living – but the man beside him was one of my agents.  I hadn’t really expected that much from them, beyond intelligence reports, yet … I smiled to myself as Rupert and Allen spoke briefly, sorting out how the town would be occupied for the next few weeks.  The army would have to move on as quickly as possible, I told myself.  The longer we stayed in one place, the easier it would be for the warlord to cut our supply lines and starve us.  It was a cowardly tactic, but pragmatic.  The warlord had to know – now – his troops couldn’t meet ours in open battle.

It didn’t take long to come to an agreement.  We’d already sorted out what we wanted from the townspeople and none of our demands were particularly unreasonable.  Allen hurried away to take the good news to his fellows, who would be relieved we didn’t intend to conquer the town or simply burn it to the ground, while Rupert and I headed towards the citadel.  A handful of prisoners, all wounded, sat on the ground in shackles; the remainder of the garrison, I was sure, was either dead or running for their life.  They wouldn’t get far.

“There’s no one I recognise amongst the prisoners.”  Rupert sounded disturbed.  “Did the commanders all die?”

“Probably,” I said.  They might have holed up in the citadel, unaware that it had become a death trap.  “Or they might have led the charge in person.”

I occupied myself surveying the damage, occasionally giving orders to messengers as they found me and made their reports.  We’d smashed the fortress to rubble, but at a very high cost in cannonballs and gunpowder.  We might be able to recover some of the cannonballs … not all of them.  Some would have shattered or been warped out of shape on impact … it would be easier, at least in the short term, to have more brought from the city.  I sent orders to have the logistics expedited as fast as possible.  Once the warlord realised our greater weakness, he’d move to take advantage of it.

“We’ll continue the offensive as quickly as possible,” I said.  It would take several days to march to the warlord’s core castle, his seat of power, but it could be done.  The real trick would be smashing the castle into rubble before the warlord’s subordinates came to their master’s rescue.  “We have to keep him off balance and …”

A messenger ran up to us.  “My Lords!”

I felt my heart sink as the messenger started to genuflect wildly.  This wasn’t going to be good.  The poor bastard clearly thought he was going to take the blame.  I didn’t really blame him.  Shooting the messenger was a fun pastime around here, as petty and short-sighted as it was.

Rupert, bless him, reacted calmly.  “What’s happened?”

“A soldier tried to rape a girl,” the messenger said.  “And all is chaos!”

I swore.  It really was going to be bad.