Chapter 111: Act 2: Chapter 47

Sixth day, Ninth Moon, 260 AC (+9 days)

Ryden POV

The pre-dawn light was hard to work with, but I had most of my men make sure that everything was ready the night before, so it wasn't as bad for us as for the others I could hear. Today would be the first true attack on Sella Ora, the capital city of Little Tyrosh.

There had been a few sporadic attempts when the army first arrived, led by foolish lords, but the great walls of the city turned them back with ease. The city didn't rival the other Free Cities in size or defense, but it had large, serviceable walls, with towers overlooking each gate. No slums grew around the walls – or if they did, they had been long since removed – and the harvests from the surrounding lands had all been brought in or burned.

Which led to the current problem - supplies. With all the supplies being either taken into Sella Ora or burned, there was precious little for us to take. Most of the island was farmland, so there was also little to hunt, and we had few options left. Father's supplies from the North had had a visible effect over the course of the war, but only if you were already looking for it. Unfortunately, the North didn't have enough to feed the army by itself. The supplies helped, but it was like throwing a bucket of dirt on to a large fire – it might help a small section, but it would never stop the entire problem.

Our fleet blockaded the city's port, meaning their ability to fish was limited, but our hopes of starving them out before we succumbed first was gone. Instead, we had to attack. Attack a real city, with real defenses, and even though we smashed most of their forces on the field, they had enough to defend the city. It was going to be a bloody day.

We tried to be quiet in the dark, but armies are never quiet things – especially as large as this one. Still, we gathered what we needed and left the camp behind. Lord Baratheon had been collecting siege equipment for the past week, but progress had been rough. All yesterday, the trebuchet workers had been practicing with the equipment, getting their aim and timing down. Even still, one trebuchet had its arm split, and it ended up killing one of the attendants. An ill-omen but needs must.

I led my men to the southeastern gate where we had been assigned to, and as the sky started to brighten horns and bells sounded from inside the city.

"It seems we have been spotted, Master Ryden," commented my second in command, Jorah.

"Aye, but I never had much hope that we could sneak up to a bloody city."

Jorah grinned but stayed quiet.

Even as we were walking, the trebuchets were unleashing their load on to the city. The stones arced gracefully in the air, twirling as they were slung forward with tremendous force. Up they went, only to fall back down to the earth with a jarring thud. Surprisingly, the targets were not the gates or the walls themselves – as I thought they might be. Instead, they targeted the towers atop the gates and the area behind the walls, where the defenders would gather.

We would have to break down the gates ourselves, while the trebuchets tried to drive the defenders away so we could assault without danger. I was skeptical at best.

As the sun continued to rise, we waited outside the city and let the trebuchets do their work. Again, and again, the rocks arced through the air, hopefully doing damage. The walls were massive – or at least they felt like it from here – with crenellations and machicolations running down their length. Any sort of archery exchange would be horribly one-sided.

Eventually, Lord Baratheon's horn sounded, and we marched forward.

The walls were, even more, intimidating up close.

"Ready men! Keep the bastards off our men with the ram!"

A loud THUNKsounded, and a large ballista buried itself into the ground well before us.

"Oh, gods," swore a man beside me.

"Steady! Have faith men! Soon, we'll be inside the city! Think of the wine!" I shouted.

It got a muted laugh, but it was enough to keep the men moving forward.

Finally, we arrived within bowshot. "Arrows! Get your arrows ready!" A horn sounded again from Lord Baratheon. "Loose! Drive those bastards off the wall!"

The angle was awkward, but hundreds of arrows will drive a man to cover, regardless of the angle. The men atop the wall ducked out of sight, and I shouted, "Again! Again! Don't let the bastards breathe!"

Arrows skidded of the wall, or simply sailed past, and a precious few hit men too stupid to hide. After a few volleys, it seemed we had them hiding, and I heard another horn, this time signaling the men with the ram to advance. Men carrying ladders also raced by, running as if the devil was at their heels.

Ballista continued to shoot from atop the walls, sending large bolts that skewered men – sometimes multiple – and showered the friends with gore. The defenders also sent arrows back, hitting us with ease as we didn't have the protection they did.

Our men continued to run, and as they neared the wall, they prepared to set up. Before they could, hundreds of men atop the wall stood, revealing themselves, and let loose a withering volley.

"Shoot!" I shouted. "Protect our men!"

Our response was quick, and our arrows finally found some purchase on the exposed defenders.

The men on the ladders quickly braced their ladders and began their climb. Rocks dropped from the walls, knocking a few off, and as they neared the top, we had to stop shooting, lest we hit our own. The men with the ram moved slowly, using their shields as a turtle shell, but they too reached the gate. Hot sand rained down on them, as did rocks and arrows, and the defenses were built so that the defenders could do so with impunity.

"Focus on the walls! Get our ladders up!" I shouted.

There was nothing we could do for the poor bastards with the ram. After another minute, there was nothing else we could do for the ladders either but watch.

As the men climbing fell, they were quickly replaced by another and another, surging up like their lives depended on it – which it did. Finally, a few gained the top, and like a chain effect, more and more along the wall did. Most of our forces were concentrated near the gates, focused so that we could take control of the gatehouses, but it did leave our men pinched between their forces.

I couldn't see from where I stood, but I imagined the fighting was fierce, atop a narrow wall, back to back with your fellows, a sense of elation from reaching the top, but a sense of hopelessness from knowing how much farther you had to go still. Or perhaps battle madness had descended on the men, and they fought with wild abandon, knowing that they had conquered the climb and that their enemies were finally within reach.

Regardless of my imagination, or perhaps all the worse for it, the waiting was agonizing. I was tired and sweaty and needed to take a shit, but I made sure to stand proudly as we waited as an example to my men. More and more men climbed the ladders as we watched, but it looked like the fighting was still in the same section of the wall, which was not a promising sign.

The men at the ram fared poorly as well. More and more men pulled out and had to be replaced as rocks and sand took their toll on the attackers. The gate still stood strong, though that wasn't unexpected. The gates were thick and likely reinforced, so the plan hinged on gaining the walls.

After a few men seemingly ran from the ram without looking injured, a new group of men approached the gate. They carried large sacks with them, and they ducked underneath the shields of the men carrying the ram. I couldn't see what they were doing, but after a few minutes, smoke rose from the gate, and the men carrying the ram retreated from the wall.

"Cover them!"

My men surged into action, sending a volley to remind the enemy at the top of the gates to keep their heads down. The men managed to pull out of bowshot and collapsed on the ground, exhausted. I could see some of Lord Baratheon's men already rounding up the men who fled early.

Meanwhile, the men on the ladders also became bunched up. None seemed to be able to push onto the wall, as I could see the backs of our men already pressed against the crenellations. It was a disaster in the making, and I could not tear my gaze from it. Men were trying to climb the ladders, while others tried to descend, and the ladders turned into chaos. Atop the wall, I couldn't even imagine the panic that those men faced. There was no way to retreat from that position – if they were lucky, a few closest to the ladder might be able to escape.

As I watched, the ladder situation sorted itself out with everyone climbing down, but the top of the wall had no such luck. Eventually, the men atop the wall, all raised their hands and dropped out of sight. I assumed they all surrendered.

The first attack had been repelled.

Xxxx

Arthur POV

The man looked about wildly, holding his shield like a talisman as if to ward off evil. But there were no gods or devils looking to strike him down, just men. He was surrounded, and he knew it.

Men are not too different from animals – back them into a corner, and they will lash out with desperation, even if they know they will die for it. But give a man a sliver of hope, and the situation changes. So, that was what I did.

My men were already looting the caravan, and the lone slave that accompanied the merchant had already been run off, and the lone survivor, a guardsman, stood surrounded.

"Surrender," I said, "and you will live."

His wild eyes locked on to mine, and he charged, bellowing a war cry. The cry turned to a scream as an arrow punched through his mail and into his gut.

I sighed. So much for offering hope.

The wounded man was rolling on the road, blood slowly spreading beneath him in the wheel ruts from the caravan. The road looked like many of the others we had been travelling on over the past nine days, though it was surprising to see how much of the land had 'roads' on it, compared to the vast, trackless wilderness of home.

I approached the man cautiously, kicking away his weapon and crouched beside him.

"Tell me what I want to know, and I will make it quick," I said.

He continued to cry and moan but did not answer me.

I sighed. I needed to know more about the area – I couldn't keep wandering around blind, attacking the odd caravan. I would accomplish nothing that way, and I would leave our group open to getting surrounded by an army.

I placed my hand on his gut and pushed. I swallowed my bile as he let out a high-pitched scream.

"Answer me," I said.

"Stop! Mercy!" he shouted, panting like he had run a race.

"Tell me what I want to know, and I will make it quick."

"Healer! I want a healer! Please!"

I shook my head. Gut wounds were deadly things, and I could already smell something had been punctured. He was a dead man. "It's a gut wound. It'll take days if I leave you, but you will die anyway."

"No! A healer! Please!"

"I can make it quick, or we can leave you here to die slowly. Choose!" I said, shouting the last.

"Please," he moaned.

"Quick or slow."

"Quick, mercy, please."

"When is the next caravan coming through?"

"Only Master Vigor comes from that village every two days."

"And other villages?"

"I don't know about other villages, but in three weeks, there is a large merchant convoy coming."

Three weeks. Excellent. "And what of farms around here?"

"Farms?" he asked, confused.

"What are the largest ones?"

"The Tarlarys family has a place to the northeast."

"How many men guard it?"

He moaned, clutching his stomach. "Mercy! Please…"

"Answer my questions first!"

"Few people," he gasped. "The family is rarely there; they only use it as a retreat from the city."

"Are there any armies in the area?"

"Armies?"

"Hired mercenary armies," I clarified.

"I don't know. They're mostly by the coast, not this far inland."

"Good. Good. Close your eyes and bit and take a breath."

Confused, he did so, and he never saw the knife.

I stood and clenched my fists so that none could see they were shaking.

"Keep one of the wagons!" I said.

"Ser?" asked Marwyn, who climbed down from the tree where he had been keeping a lookout.

"Apparently there is a large farm-manor to the northeast of here. The owners are rarely home, but the place is nice enough to demand guards all the time. Send out men to tell our other two groups that I want everyone to meet there."

"How will they know how to find it?"

I scratched my chin as I thought it over. "We can just head into town and ask for directions," I said, smiling.

"They would just tell us where it is?" he asked, incredulously.

"Of course! Why wouldn't they? We are just the poor bastards who are supposed to deliver a message but got lost."

Marwyn snorted. "A message, aye."

"And make sure that they gather information as they go to. I want to make sure that what our dead friend told us is correct."

"Yes, Ser!"

"Any wounded?" I asked.

"One," he replied. "One of the guards got in a lucky arrow, and it went into Tylan's arm."

I grimaced. "How is it?"

Marwyn waved over to the forest. "He's back with the horses already, but it shouldn't be too bad – as long as rot doesn't set in."

"I'll go check in on him."

The forest we had set the ambush in was similar to every other one we had used so far. The underbrush was mostly cleared out, but there were plenty of forests to hide inside. It also helped that with the use of slaves, there was less need for villages to be dispersed throughout the countryside since the slaves needed to be watched over closely and in a central location. It made for hiding in the country easier, even if there were still plenty of villages with freemen and their families.

Tylan was sitting on the ground, with his shirt off, and arm exposed.

"How is it?" I asked.

He grunted. "Hurts, Ser. Dallen is getting some cloth to bandage the wound."

"Have you cleaned it out yet?"

Tylan shook his head. "No, Ser."

"Let me grab something first." I walked over to my horse, and I went through my saddlebags until I found a bottle.

"Here," I said, handing over the bottle to Dallen. "Clean off the knife and your hands before you start poking around the wound. Then wash the wound afterward with it – but don't use too much."

"What is it?" asked Dallen.

"Helps prevent the wound from getting infected."

"Like firewine from the maesters?"

"Aye, like that."

He took off the lid and took a whiff of it. "Strong smell. Ought to work good."

"It does," I confirmed. I turned to Tylan and said, "As for you, you'll get light duties for the next week; I want you to get better. Hopefully, we'll have found a nice place to lay low for a while."

Tylan grinned. "Looking forward to it, Ser!"

I left Tylan to Dallen's tender mercies.

I had yet to lose anyone while we got used to this new form of war, but I knew the time was soon approaching when my men would die. But we would not go quietly into the night.

The manor was going to be a turning point; I could feel it.