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four thick cables of woven pika-ping.
Ethan could make out individual words now. The singing was accompanied by a
deep-throated thrumming from smaller versions of the great Margyudan.
"Hayeh, chuff ... haych, chuff!" intoned the strain-ing barbarians,  Haryen
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abet hayeh chuff ... hoo, hoo, chuff.! ... "
They swayed in rhythm to the song, pulling first to the left, then the right,
left, then right.
After they'd moved another dozen meters closer, the design of the engine they
were dragging became clear even to Ethan's untrained eye.
Hunnar said quietly, "'That's the biggest moydra ... cata-pult ... I've ever
seen."
Both singing and machine halted a few minutes later. The long lines of
warriors rolled up their green cables. A crew of busy nomads began working
about the base of the great war engine.
""Throwing out ice anchors," said September, staring into the distance, "and
blocking down the skates. I don't wonder. The recoil on that thing must be
terrific."
The singing resumed, on a much smaller scale this time. Ethan could see the
huge cyclopean arm gradually sinking toward its base. It was hard to get a
true sense of scale at this distance, but the crossbeam of the catapult was
many tunes the height of a man.
There seemed to be a lapse in the activity. "What are they doing now?" he
asked anxiously.
Hunnar yelled, "Get downs"
The cry was echoed by dozens of other voices along the wall. Ethan dropped as
he had, yesterday.
Nothing happened. He raised his head slightly. There was a loud whistle in the
sky and it wasn't arrows, and it wasn't the wind. Something went crunch in the
distance, behind them.
Without waiting for an "all clear" he was on his feet, across the ice-path,
and looking into the harbor. He almost stumbled on the ice.
Across the harbor, near the second tower down from the harbor gate, a section
of wall at least five meters wide and three deep had been knocked from the
back section of stone as though by the bite of a giant shovel.
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Several twisted tran-shapes sprawled on the ice among the broken stone. From
both walls troops were converging on the spot. A few started to scramble down
the open break onto the ice.
There was a line in the harbor ice formed by three succes-sive gouges, each
about twenty meters apart. They lay in line from the broken section of wall.
Twenty meters beyond the last gouge lay an enormous chunk of solid basalt. It
sat placid and innocent in a slight depression of its own making.
Hunnar uttered something vicious that Ethan couldn't translate and started
running toward the castle. From several towers, Sofoldian catapults began to
twang in response. Their smaller stones fell far short of the huge barbarian
war engine.
A broad crescent of nomads had assembled next to the catapult. When it became
clear that their own machine was impregnable they set up a great cheering and
screaming that didn't stop until the next stone was released.
This one landed short of the wall, took one bounce, and slammed into the
masonry not ten meters down from where Ethan was standing. The concussion
threw everyone stationed on that section off his feet.
Immediately, Ethan was standing and leaning over the side to inspect the
damage.
A respectable portion of rock had been smashed free. Now it lay scattered on
the ice like so many pebbles, the boulder a colossus among them.
"It's a damn good thing it takes them so long to wind that thing up," said
September. "Just the same, Hunnar's going to have to do something about that
toy-and fast. Otherwise, near as I can figure, Sagyanak can sit out there and
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enjoy the party while that one piece of oversized artillery slowly turns these
walls into gravel."
The flickering candles illuminated the map spread before them, but did nothing
to lighten their spirits. Balavere, Hunnar, Ethan, and September sat at the
table. They were joined by the
Landgrave and several other of Sofold's most impor-tant nobles, the latter
forming Balavere's general staff.
One of the nobles was using a long stick of polished wood to indicate crosses
and circles on the map, gesturing here and there at the line representing the
harbor wall.
"The wall has been nearly breached-here, here, and here. Severe damage to
battlements has occurred here, here, here, and here. Wherever you see a sting
sign there is minor dam-age of varying degree. This is not to mention our
personnel casualties nor the damage to the spirit of the men.
There is some talk of surrender and throwing the city on the mercy of [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]