Seeking the Morrow Middanhal

Regardless of Athelstan’s predictions, no siege towers rose against the horizon in the early days of the siege. First, the outlanders completed their defensive structures, protecting themselves against sorties and hiding their labours from eyes on the city walls. It took three days before the outlanders revealed their work, pushing and rolling past their palisades. Stone throwers and wicker screens, the former to attack and the latter to protect.

Appearing in large numbers with cavalry to protect their flanks, the outlanders moved out from their wooden defences to attack those of stone. In response, the Order soldiers raised the alarm, waving the banners atop their towers. While the red-robed Anausa approached, levies from the fiefdoms of Adalrik joined the men of the Star on the double walls of Middanhal to fill the gaps in the ranks.

The first engagement of the siege began. Employing the same methods as when they took Tothmor, the catapults launched their first volleys. Some used simple rocks as munitions, hoping to hit defenders on the walls with enough force to cause injuries. Others used the severed heads from the fallen in the battle of Ingmond, where the outlanders had painstakingly decapitated the corpses and carried the grisly trophies with them.

The Order soldiers raised their large infantry shields, shielding them from the rain of missiles. The hardened veterans showed little emotion, even when heads sometimes still wearing helmets rolled around their feet. The new conscripts and levies reacted with greater force, vomiting or crying out; some even abandoned their post, though they were swiftly beaten for this and sent back. The gruesome munition was meant to weaken morale, laying the groundwork for later assaults; the leaders of the Order used both encouragement and punishment to prevent this. Meanwhile, their own stone throwers responded, seeking to destroy the enemy’s siege engines on the ground.

As their next weapon, outlanders advanced behind wicker screens, protecting them against the longbowmen on the towers. With oil and alchemy, their own archers set fire to their arrows and shot them across the walls.

"Fire arrows!" came the warning call. They struck like flaming serpents with varying effect. Some landed harmlessly on the paved street; others hit rooftops, starting a blaze.

"We need water!" Pulling the nearest levies from the walls, the knights in charge established human chains. Barrels and buckets of water were transported from prepared locations, dousing the flames.

While some of the defenders attended to this threat, the remainder stayed at their posts, manning the double walls. They stood, unflinching, gazing at the morass of wicker screens, archers, catapults, and countless soldiers in red beyond.

The outlanders revealed their final ploy for the day. Suddenly, scores of them ran forward with a shield in one hand, the other empty. Within easy range of the defending archers, they protected themselves as best they could while digging out little clay pots from a pouch. With a powerful throw, they flung them at the walls.

Some of the throws failed, and the pots struck below the parapet to no effect. But others reached their destination, hurled over the walls to crack open at the feet of the soldiers. Alchemical fire burst out, causing panicked outbursts and frantic attempts to quell the flames. Swiftly, the alchemy throwers retreated even as arrows from the turrets harried them, leaving chaos on the walls in their wake.

It could have been an opportune moment to attack, but the outlanders had brought no machinery for scaling the walls; instead, they continued their pelting the defenders until their munition, whether of one nature or another, ran out. Only then did they retreat, dragging their catapults and screens with them.

Meanwhile, the commanders of the Order assessed their losses and damage inflicted. Neither seemed heavy, but this had only been the first day of the siege; many more were to come.

~~~~

The first day of assault might have ended, but the outlanders still had work to do. Siege machinery had to be hauled back to be kept in defensive locations under heavy watch. The dead were retrieved, stripped of their weapons and equipment. The injured received treatment. Finally, the earthworks and palisades were strengthened where possible in anticipation of retaliation.

Once these tasks had been completed, night had fallen. Small specks of light could be seen across the siege camp otherwise engulfed in darkness. The largest stood in the middle, where the Servant of the Flame made sacrifices to the Godking; the remainder were cooking fires, providing the cold soldiers with heat, tea, and warm meals.

"I’ve seen some strange things in the dry lands," one soldier remarked, swinging his mug around, "but imagine being so cowardly, you need two walls to hide behind!" Scattered laughter could be heard.

"It’s clever though," another argued, rubbing his hands together and holding them close to the fire. "We spend all our efforts getting onto the first wall, and they’ll be standing on the one behind, throwing rocks and shooting arrows at us. I don’t envy the first soldiers to go up."

"That’s why we have the fire pots," came a third voice. "Did you see them dance some merry steps once we started hurling them up?" More laughter ensued.

"When the Godking arrives, it doesn’t matter how many walls they got, they’ll all crumble!"

"I’d like to see the drylanders fight just one fravashi!"

"You boys don’t know your stories." An aged voice cut through the noise. Its owner sat on a crate with his robe and cloak huddled around him; scars adorned his face, which showed no mirth. "Fighting on those walls will be nothing like you imagine. You got no idea what’s waiting."

"Oh, spare us, old man."

"What stories?"

"Just the tales of old women to frighten children."

"Stories of dreadful warriors whose eyes have only one colour," continued the veteran. "Faster with a sword than any man, and near impossible to kill."

"Hah, just wait until the fravashi arrive! They’ll take care of the drylanders and their monsters."

At the mention of the shadow warriors, some soldiers displayed excitement, others dread.

"Yeah, nothing can kill a fravashi!"

"Except a Blade of Ruin," argued the old soldier. "Wrath, rage, storm, and song."

"They don’t exist, and neither do your monsters with strange eyes!"

"We took the city they call Tothmor after weeks of siege. Not one fravashi, but two in the garrison. Yet the drylanders took it back in a day, and no fravashi returned to camp." The veteran took out some leaves from a pouch and began chewing them.

His words and demeanour had a subduing effect on the gathering. The soldiers returned to their tea and food; soon after, they sought sleep.

~~~~

The quartermaster of the Order sat surrounded by clerks, writing desks, and long shelves filled with ledgers. Constantly, missives arrived with information to be added to lists, keeping track of all things related to warfare. Soldiers, weapons, equipment, provisions, and everything else needed to wage war. The jarl of Vale looked around with approval at the many quills, busy writing down.

"I would speak with you," Valerian said, approaching the quartermaster.

The old man raised his head, finishing the sentence on his parchment without looking. "My lord jarl. What is it?"

"As you are no doubt aware, the king has placed me in charge of the treasury," Valerian said with a hint of a smile. "I am going through the guild taxes, and they have withheld some taxes in order to pay for the king’s mercenaries."

"I have no records nor knowledge concerning the guilds," the quartermaster replied dismissively.

"But you do record the mercenary companies under contract with the Crown," the jarl remarked. "I know this, as they were formerly in my employ, and I turned them over."

"And what is your interest in this matter?"

Valerian waved around a stack of documents in his hand. "I wish to compare my lists concerning taxes and payments with your records, to ensure the guilds are actually paying for troops as they claim."

The old clerk gave a small sigh. "I suppose your diligence is admirable." He rose from his seat with difficulty and walked over to a shelf. With his eyes just a handful of inches away from the ledgers, he read through the titles on their spines. "Here we are." He pulled one book from its brethren and returned to his desk. "Normally, we do not allow our ledgers to leave this room, but given the jarl’s reputation, I assume it will be returned in good order."

"No need to remove it," Valerian declared. "I will probably require other books. That is why I brought my lists with me," he explained with a cunning smile. "I will take that seat." He nodded towards an empty desk and did as he had claimed.

"If you must," the quartermaster replied, returning to his work.

~~~~

As he had done after previous battles, Sikandar gathered his lieutenants in his tents to determine what lessons to learn. Unlike at Ingmond, where a crude map had been drawn to depict the battlefield, the captain had a detailed illustration of Middanhal showing the walls, towers, defensive equipment, and estimates of the garrison.

"They have stone throwers on this, this, and this tower," Arash reported, pointing at the locations on the map.

"And here and here," Rostam added, using the same gesture.

"Along with the other reports, that leaves three openings for our siege towers. One of which remains impassable," Sikandar considered.

"Will two suffice?" asked Rostam.

"They will have to," the captain replied. "What effect did the fire arrows have?"

"Not enough, in my opinion," Arash said. "Enough remained on the walls to give us trouble. Their garrison is perhaps even stronger than we were told."

Rostam nodded. "The fire pots worked better, causing disruption. Only briefly, of course, but used at the right time, it should provide an opening to take the walls."

"Agreed." Sikandar nodded slightly. "That should not be difficult to organise."

"Even so, if I may speak," Rostam said hesitantly. With no objection from the captain, he continued. "Their numbers are strong, and they are prepared. Taking the city by storm will inflict great losses."

"It would," Sikandar conceded, "but the Godking expects that we take the city sooner rather than later. Our soldiers are expected to give their all."

"All for the Godking," Rostam hurried to say, with Arash joining in.

"When does he arrive?" asked the latter.

"In about three days’ time, along with enough reinforcements to end this war," Sikandar declared. "We best have our preparations made before that. To that end, I will keep you no longer."

His lieutenants bowed their heads and left.

~~~~

"The spy is here to see you, my king."

Brand looked up at his thane. "You know not to detain him."

"He is not alone." The warrior clenched his jaw. "He has a Dwarf with him."

"In that case, send them both in."

Godfrey entered first, followed by the dvalinn of the Dwarves in Middanhal. The two visitors could scarcely be more different; the former wore plain clothing, undyed and of cheap make, whereas the latter had woven garments with rich embroidering. Godfrey had coarse stubbles and an unkempt appearance; the dvalinn’s beard was neatly braided with silver rings.

"My king, this is Lord Ivaldi, dvalinn of House Starkstone. All the Dwarves of Adalrik heed his words," Godfrey spoke.

Brand rose, giving the Dwarf a curt nod, which was reciprocated in the same manner. "Be seated." He gestured to a chair opposite his desk and took his own seat. "Pour ale for my guests," he added, directed at a servant in the corner, who swiftly carried out the command. Once both Godfrey and Ivaldi sat down, the king spoke again. "What brings you to my chambers?"

"My lord king has conscripted soldiers for the Order," the dvalinn spoke, "yet no Dwarves fight in your ranks. They are not allowed."

"If they were, would any join? It is not my understanding that your people would fight under our banners. Even if your homes are as much under threat as any."

"We are not inclined to do so, no. But we might raise our own banner and fight alongside yours," Ivaldi suggested.

"In what numbers?"

"Two thousand strong. Armed and armoured."

"Warriors or craftsmen?"

The Dwarf crossed his arms. "Whether against an enemy or an anvil, my men know how to swing a hammer."

Brand gave a polite smile, drinking from his cup of ale. "And what price do your two thousand hammers demand?"

Ivaldi locked eyes with the king. "We want the rights afforded to any who dwell in Adalrik."

Brand nodded a little. "I can understand that. If you shed blood the same as others, you should enjoy the same rights. I see no reason to deny it. Provided your warriors acquit themselves well."

"They will, my lord king, and you can trust that as strong as stone. But there is another thing."

Brand leaned back in his seat. "More demands? You take me for a desperate man."

The dvalinn shook his head. "This affects us all. We want the outlanders defeated for good."

"By which you mean?"

"Once the siege has been lifted, you must invade the Reach and retake Dvarheim."

Brand glanced at Godfrey, who spoke a single word. "Niðheim."

"An invasion of the Reach is not a simple proposition," the king declared. "Half the realms are under invasion. We are at war both east and west."

"If you leave this enemy to retreat and recover, they will return," Ivaldi claimed. "You will fight them again and again, as you have done for centuries. The time to destroy them is now! Reclaim Dvarheim for my people, and we will fight by your side every step of the way."

"Those are bold words, my lord dvalinn, but simple. A blind invasion into the Reach, of which we know nothing, and a lengthy siege that could drag on for years, while the forces of Alcázar ravage the western lands," Brand considered. "You ask a steep price."

"I expected bold action to suit the king who once crossed the Weolcan mountains," Ivaldi retorted.

"You would not be blind," Godfrey interjected. "You would have allies and detailed knowledge of the enemy. It is not as difficult a proposition as it might seem at first glance."

Brand stroked his chin. "I will consider it. I shall let you know of my decision, Lord Ivaldi." The Dwarf made a gruff sound and rose from his seat. "Stay a moment, Godfrey."

"As you wish." The wanderer gave a small nod to the dvalinn, who left.

"Any news?"

Godfrey shook his head. "I go beyond the walls tonight. Ask me again tomorrow."

"Fine." Brand hesitated briefly before he spoke again. "This dvalinn must know his demands are ludicrous. I cannot commit to a full invasion while fighting on two fronts! He may consider me on my knees, pressing his luck in this way, but he cannot honestly think I will commit to years of war in foreign lands for the sake of mere two thousand men."

"The Dwarven folk have been disappointed before," the wanderer said. "They remember the old wars and broken promises. They are loath to trust your people, Brand. You do not know the risk taken by the dvalinn to make this offer."

"That does not change the situation," Brand retorted. "The duke of Belvoir has come to my aid with six thousand men, and he expects, quite reasonably so, that I will liberate Ealond once Adalrik is free. Am I to make a mockery of one ally to placate another?"

Godfrey exhaled before his words slowly came. "I think the next days will determine everything, and you need every soldier you can get. If promises must be made only to be broken later, whether to one ally or another, such is the king’s lot."

Brand drummed his fingers against the table. "I will send a message tomorrow. Best to let the dvalinn think the decision required long deliberations."

"And I have a meeting to attend. With your leave." Godfrey bowed his head quickly and departed.

~~~~

Rostam walked through the siege camp, his meeting with the other commanders at an end. As he passed one group of soldiers after another, huddled around their cooking fires, he received many a greeting, nodding in return.

In the darkness, few would have noticed the blackboot that slid up next to Rostam. "I seek the morrow," Dariush spoke quietly. "Keep walking."

The lieutenant did so, casting a brief glance at his companion. "You serve him?"

"We share the same goal. What can you tell me?"

"Two siege towers. One past the third turret west, counted from the gate. One past the fifth turret to the east. That is all I know at present."

"Good." As discreetly as he had approached, the blackboot left Rostam’s side.

Dariush moved to a part of the camp that resembled any other; the same tents stood erected in the same formation. Yet none of the Anausa could be seen; the few men around the fire wore the same dark garbs as Dariush.

Seeing him appear, Kamran rose. "Did you learn anything?"

The other blackboot gave a slight nod. "I did. I’ll go tonight to pass it on."

"Be careful. There are patrols everywhere."

"I doubt they will interfere with the business of a sāyag. I am more concerned how he will reach me and get back, unseen."

Kamran gave a shrug. "He is Javed." He spoke again with a touch of concern. "Be safe, my brother."

Dariush touched him on the arm in a quick gesture of affection before he left, disappearing into the black of the night.