The Accidental Archmage - Book Five, Edmund Batara [best way to read ebooks txt] 📗

57. “Unmanly one, cease, | or the mighty hammer,

Mjollnir, shall close thy mouth;

Thy shoulder-cliff | shall I cleave from thy neck,

And so shall thy life be lost.”

Loki spake:

58. “Lo,in has come | the son of Earth:

Why threaten so loudly, Thor?

Less fierce thou shalt go | to fight with the wolf

When he swallows Sigfather up.”

Thor spake:

59. “Unmanly one, cease, | or the mighty hammer,

Mjollnir, shall close thy mouth;

I shall hurl thee up | and out in the East,

Where men shall see thee no more.”

The party stood on the platform, watching the darkness in front of the gate. At their back was the jarl’s party. A large flag showing Hedmark’s symbol and colors was already raised on a tall pole behind the hird. For some reason, the expected probing attack by undead warriors and creatures didn’t happen. The last report of the scouts said the advance party of the horde had stopped. The mage thought it must have been because of the destruction of the skeletal drakes. Somebody must have reported back to the leader of the army of ghouls. Tyler swore, believing he should have expected that and done scrying of the area around the fortress. Unfortunately, he’d been fixated on the approaching bony flock, and his magical examination directed toward the incoming drakes.

Right now, they were all waiting for the arrival of the revenant horde. The defenders were as prepared as they could be under the circumstances. Tyler had instructed the mages to keep well away from the walls and focus on illumination spells. Barrier spells too if they saw a break in the defending ranks atop the ramparts. Those who knew the healing arts were advised to stay in the safe area near the jarl’s keep designated for the wounded.

Loud clatter disturbed the stillness of the night. The mage, followed by Kobu, walked to the edge of the bastion and looked down on the city. Two-wheeled carts were being hauled into position near the gate and various crossroads.

“Mobile roadblocks, sire. A contingency. A mass of long sharp knives is arranged in front. If one removes the wheels, it becomes a deadly obstacle. Or a group of men could use it as a battering ram against exposed flesh. It also easily penetrates light armor. We learned of it, and a few other siege toys, from the Zhong. I believe they call it the Sai Men Dao Che, but we call it the Ajisai No Hoyo. It means the embrace of a flower which to us also symbolizes coldness,” said the exile. “I was only able to get a few Chikyu Ni Fureru made, those are what we call file axes, used to cut off hands and fingers of attackers once they start gripping the stone of the battlements. Those dwarves took over most of the good forges. though we got a lot of Wolf’s Teeth constructed. They’ll be perfect as killing weapons for the defense. Though with the absence of siege machinery, I gather their leader expects to use his casualties as a siege ramp to assault the walls. The key would be to prevent the build-up of bodies beside the ramparts.”

“I hear you. But what does that name mean, the one referring to what you called file axes? And the Wolf’s Teeth?” the mage asked.

“Touch of the Earth, sire. Quite appropriate since the attacker falls to his death once his hands or fingers are cut off. Though for this siege, they would be used to relieve the pressure on the defenders. The fewer attackers on the ramparts, the better. Wolf’s Teeth was an innovation brought over by arrivals about 100 years ago. It was something they learned during their invasion of a land called Goryeo in the First World. It’s a large square made of heavy timber, with iron teeth attached. A vertical version of the Ajisai No Hoyo. Raised by a large winch on top of the wall and then released to kill men underneath it.”

“Terrible things. Shows that man’s imagination when it comes to killing his fellowmen knows no bounds. Though I can’t understand why the apparently poetic names for those dreadful killing machines,” remarked Tyler.

“There is a school of thought in my homeland which believes war is an art. Following their logic, killing an art. So, they end up giving poetic names to these killing implements. If you ask me, it’s just a way of ensuring the mind does not crumble under the weight of its conscience.”

“How about you, Kobu? I know you have been a warlord,” said Tyler, his mouth getting ahead of his mind. Shit. What a question to ask.

The exile looked into the distance, his taciturn mien belied by the sad expression in his eyes. It was clear Kobu was disturbed by the sudden resurgence of long-repressed memories.

“I had my share of killing, sire. More than any sane man’s share. Though it was duty, war, or self-defense. Or a combination of those deceptively innocent concepts. Sometimes, decisions had to be made which churned the stomach and repulsed the soul. I have regretted a few and wondered if things could have been resolved in a less violent manner. The rest was war,” whispered Kobu in a calm voice.

“I apologize I asked, Kobu. There are matters not meant to be shared,” said Tyler.

“No need to apologize, sire. You are my liege lord, after all. It feels good to be able to talk, even indirectly, about the past, the burden on one’s mind, once in a while.”

“A report from Ivar the scout, Lord High Mage,” a man’s voice called out from behind the pair.

Tyler turned. The jarl looked at him, surprised as he was. The mage couldn’t understand why Ivar wanted to report to him.

Isn’t he the jarl’s scout? Should he report to the jarl first?

The mage approached the waiting forest ranger. But Kobu walked in front of him, slightly to his left.

“Yes, Ivar?” Tyler asked as he stopped a few feet from the scout. Not that the platform was