CHAPTER FIFTY SEVEN

Chaldez had never seen a city like Jadmranput before. The plain on which it stands is remarkable for the flat-topped rocky outcrops, like massive stumps, which are scattered across it; the remains, legend has it, of giants killed in a battle at the beginning of time. One of the largest dominates Jadmranput, which grew up between its base and the river bank. Steep, winding stairways, cut into the rock, reach the summit which has become so crowded with buildings of all shapes and sizes that they jut out over the sheer cliffs below, their overhanging floors and walls supported by a complex system of timber buttresses which have themselves been colonised by the city, as it were, to form a satellite community of weird-shaped structures, all irregular angles and intriguing protrusions, one below another. In places they descend more than half way down the rock face.
The older part of the city, between the "stump" and the river, is protected by earthen ramparts surmounted by a high wall of stout timber stakes. Chaldez had never been thwarted by similar defences, but the existence of the rock dismayed him for whoever held that would command the city, and it looked impossible to take - unless the defenders were driven off by fire. The weird-shaped structures which clung to the timber buttresses might be within range, he thought, of the archers, and he suggested to Sigmar that they be commanded to shoot at them with fire arrows.
Sigmar scowled, as though he were stupid. "No no!" he snapped impatiently.
Chaldez was hurt, and remained perplexed until one of the karmikvals, a man called Oogkal whom he knew only slightly, boasted to him that thanks to his knowledge of Jadmranput, Sigmar already had a plan. Oogkal belonged to one of the ruling families of the city, and had told Sigmar about its most closely-guarded secret.
Generations ago the citizens had excavated a tunnel through the solid rock so that in the event of a siege they could creep out under cover of darkness and bring back provisions. It was most unlikely, he said, that the barbarians would have found it.
Sigmar assembled the bulk of his army opposite the gate through which the Arril Klybet trade route enters the city, and he put Chaldez in charge of the assault in that quarter, with instructions to launch his attack at first light.
"Your task is to convince the defenders that they are receiving the full weight of our assault," he said, then added, "my army is not so large that I can afford casualties. Make it look as though you mean business. You will know when to begin in earnest when you see my signal from the rock."
That night Sigmar lead a force of some 300 hand-picked men to where the Jadmranput bolt hole emerges in a coppice close to a stream, about an arrow's flight from the foot of the rock.
"Look out for a flaming arrow," he told Chaldez. "When you see it sound your horns and swarm the ramparts."
As soon as he received his commission, Chaldez ordered the carpenters to assemble the dismantled siege catapult which the army had in its train, and to start making siege ladders. They worked throughout the night, Chaldez, restless and anxious, constantly monitoring their progress. Unable to sleep, he went from work party to work party, chivvying and chiding so that the men grew heartily sick of him. Tsem remained at his side; he noticed the scowls and muttered curses, and cast himself in the role of personal body guard, though he would have dearly liked to be in bed.
The re-assembled catapult went into operation at first light, hurling boulders over the city's defenses. Later, protected by their shields, assault parties approached the ramparts, but fell back to avoid casualties. The defenders cheered and whooped, and their spears rained down.
All morning the charade went on, and every few moments Chaldez looked towards the commanding heights of the "stump". Observers had been instructed to keep their eyes on it constantly but he did not trust them, and as the sun climbed higher he became convinced that Sigmar's arrow had been fired and not seen. Tsem assured him that it would have been noticed but he remained doubtful.
The men were keyed up, and to continue aborting their attacks, which they justifiably felt had the impetus to carry them as far as the ramparts, was likely to undermine confidence in their commanders; Chaldez knew that an effective onslaught, just exactly when it was needed, might then elude him. At noon he made his decision: he would attack in earnest, signal or no signal.
While the catapult kept up its bombardment and his archers fired volley after volley at the defenders, a strong detachment approached the gates beneath the shelter of their shields, dragging behind them piles of brushwood. The journey was repeated again and again, and the stack of wood grew higher against the great wooden gates. The Muraks threw water over it, but their efforts were puny.
Chaldez ordered fire arrows to be shot into the stack; it eventually blazed up, and long orange flames hungrily licked the great wooden gates. The catapult was re-positioned, and after some trial shots, a shower of sparks showed that a well-aimed missile had struck burning timber. It was followed by a succession of others, a burst of sparks denoting each hit; the gates were all but smashed, and now the flames had spread to the wooden towers on either side of them. The whole army gave loud, raucous voice, but Chaldez held back the assault until the stack of brushwood had been reduced almost to nothing, and then the gates beyond, broken and burning, could clearly be seen hanging ineffectually on their massive iron hinges.
Horns blared, and the attackers charged. There was no falling back this time and along the length of the steep earthen rampart ladders began to appear, quickly followed by a second tier leaning against the tall wooden staves. Excitement made Chaldez forget Sigmar. Tsem pulled his arm "The arrow!" he shouted. "Look!"
Chaldez was too late to see it, but he glimpsed the ephemeral arc of grey smoke which it had drawn in the air. A wave of relief swept through him, and he responded to it with a hoarse shout "The city is ours!"
He ordered the horns to be sounded once more, and then, with Tsem, Rassi and Zikir beside him, led the reserve in a furious charge. They galloped through the smoking wreckage of the great gates, to be confronted in the open square just beyond by a horde of enemy foot soldiers. It was an alarming sight, and for a moment Chaldez was overtaken by fear. He reigned in his horse, but its pace had hardly slackened before he was spurring it on, shouting and waving his sword. In an instant he had known that there was no escape. If his fate was to die, he would die triumphantly, and his mood was infectious. To the Muraks in their path, the horsemen looked unstoppable. Many simply dropped their weapons and ran for their lives.
For the rest of the day and all through the night, murderous, close-quarter fighting continued. Some of the outnumbered Muraks tried to escape over the walls, but the majority headed for the stump, and there, on the stairways they encountered Sigmar's men, and they died by the score.
Only when the sky began to lighten did Chaldez meet Sigmar, and later still he learned that the secret tunnel had been blocked in several places by rock falls, hence Sigmar's delayed appearance. Saminad said that the climb up the steep, narrow and uneven steps had been one of the worst experiences of his life.
"We came up through the floor of a house," he said. "Three hundred of us - can you imagine it? The gods be thanked, it was empty, but it was not possible to hide our presence and half our number were still in the tunnel when we were discovered."
"My attack must have been well under way by then," said Chaldez, knowing that it would have provided an invaluable distraction.
"It was," agreed Saminad. "And the Danbeddekkan wondered why, since no signal had been given.""I hope," said Chaldez, rather stiffly, "that he will not reprimand me!"
Bedden shrugged, as though it was a matter of indifference to him.
Far from reprimanding Chaldez, Sigmar lavished praise on him. He said that his decision to go ahead with his attack had been decisive in giving them the city. "When I heard the sounds of battle I praised Arwarnhi, and I thank him now for sending me an ally such as Zakarrah, the Imperial commander."
His words filled Chaldez with a feeling of omnipotence. The combination of intense stress, physical exertion, fatigue and praise had an intoxicating effect; his senses seemed sharpened, his consciousness elevated, his very being ennobled. God-like, anything was possible. But exhaustion soon claimed him, and when he awoke, the delusions were gone; he was gutted of energy and he lay quite still, attempting to purge his mind of the horrid sights from the previous day's battle which it kept conjuring up. He wondered if he alone was troubled by them, and it seemed to him to be a perversity of his that he should still be disturbed by the violence and bloodshed of battle.