“Is that one of my trees?” Suliel asked, outraged. After everything that had happened, this felt like a final, personal insult.
“Probably, my Lady,” Sergeant Mirok said glumly. “It’s traditional to make siege equipment with whatever you have on hand.”
Suliel stared out at what had been, until tonight, her ornamental garden, screened for privacy by a thick copse of trees. Now, it was the staging ground for an invasion force.
It was hard to make out in the darkness. The mercenaries had brought lights, but they must have realised that light would make them targets for arrows. Their lanterns were stuck on poles, widely spread, and the dim light they provided barely made it through the rain. Nevertheless, the long shape they were clustering around could only be a ram.
“Why did you ask for the Lazybones to stop shooting?” Suliel asked.
“The…skeletons fired when the mercenaries came out of cover,” the sergeant explained. “They dropped two of the soldiers carrying the ram and caused it to be dropped. At first, I didn’t want to waste ammunition until I knew what was happening. Now… this is what we want.”
“We want mercenaries in my garden?” Suliel asked, raising her eyebrows.
“Not as such, my lady, but we want them milling around, not doing anything. This battle is about delay, is it not?”
“Is it?” Suliel would rather the battle be about wiping the stain of this insult off her lands.
“They outnumber us, my Lady, by a considerable amount. And your husband is coming to reinforce us. Right now, they’re doing nothing, and it isn’t costing us anything.”
“I see. You don’t think we can defeat them on our own? Are the rifles not enough?”
“They are powerful, my Lady, but this is the first time they’ve been used against opposing troops. With your life at stake, we need to be cautious.”
“All right,” Suliel said. “So what’s our next move?”
“That depends on what they do,” Sergeant Mirok told her. “We’re using the time gained to set up positions covering all the approaches. It looks like they’ll eventually try a charge from the front, but they seem spooked by those shots.”
She looked quizzically at Suliel. “Something about those shots has got me puzzled as well.”
“What’s that?”
The sergeant pointed at the dropped ram. “You can see, they had screens up?”
“Those big wooden shields?”
“Aye. They’re a bit light for shields, but they protect against arrows well enough. The rifles went right through, as I’d expect, but how did the skeletons hit the target?”
“Ah,” Sergeant Mirok said, once Suliel passed the explanation on. “That might prove useful later on.”
They settled in to wait. The arrangement they ended up with seemed strange to Suliel, but Sergeant Mirok assured her that it was suited to the nature of this assault. The top two floors were empty, but blazed with light to deter any further assassins. The rooms on the first floor were dark, to preserve the soldier’s night vision and to help keep them hidden from the watching archers.
The ground floor, meanwhile had been fortified with makeshift piles of furniture, sourced from every floor of the mansion. The ordinary staff were gathered here. They had been armed from the house’s inventory, not so much as a final line of defence as a way of slowing any invaders that made it in long enough for the soldiers to come down.
Suliel stood on the first-floor landing. Centrally positioned, she could hear any shouted warning from this floor or the one below. Suliel felt that the limited utility of this command position was only highlighted when her sergeant left it to take up a position at the front of the house.
The wait dragged on, with the sound of falling rain the only thing Suliel could hear. The orders had been given, the positions had been taken. Even the mercenaries outside were quiet, no doubt trying to avoid attention from any passers-by.
Finally, the call came from the front of the house. “They’re moving!”
“Steady!” Sergeant Mirok ordered. “Flanks and rear, keep an eye out in case this is a distraction!”
Suliel found she couldn’t hang back and wait. She rushed to the front rooms.
“Stay back, my Lady!” Sergeant Mirok managed to keep to the proper forms of address, but her tone betrayed her irritation.
“I am standing back!” Suliel shot back. And she was. She didn’t enter the room, she hung back at the door, close enough to get a view of outside. “What’s happening?”
Yesterday, this had been a sitting room with pleasant views of the front garden. The wide windows had no glass, but they had shutters, now flung wide open. Most of the furniture had been dragged downstairs, but a couch with a high back remained, positioned so that two soldiers could hide behind it and rest their guns on the back.
Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.
The other room held two more soldiers and both rooms had their own skeleton. The Lazybones ignored the more comfortable firing positions. They stood there with their guns raised, untiring.
“The main force is coming in ahead of the ram,” Sergeant Mirok said shortly. “Must be hoping to keep us busy while—”
She broke off, intent on the scene below. “Cover your ears, my Lady. Ready Volley! Volley Fire!”
Four rifles fired as one, the sound ringing out like thunder. Suliel had just managed to protect her ears, but the sound still rang through her. Two more shots came slightly after, like an echo. The skeletons didn’t have the soldiers’ trait that let them fire as one.
“Reload!” Sergeant Mirok yelled.
Smoke filled the room. Despite Kelsey’s claims, the rifles weren’t exactly smokeless.
Suliel crept forward to get a better view. A dozen… no, two dozen men were lying on the ground, just behind the fountain. The ram had been readied, just in the cover of the trees, but it wasn’t being brought forward.
How did we get so many? Suliel wondered. Then she saw that they were moving.
“Hold fire!” Sergeant Mirok commanded. “Let’s not teach them how fast we can reload.”
They watched as the invaders scuttled back, shields held high. Three of them were left on the field. Sergeant Mirok made a disappointed sound.
“We hit more than that on the volley,” she said. “I guess some of them can still move.”
“Why were they all on the ground?” Suliel asked.
“They were counting on shields and a Parry trait to save them,” Sergeant Mirok explained. “Bullets go too fast for that, though. When the volley hit and men started going down, they all panicked, diving for cover like they were gonna be the next ones shot at.”
The sergeant grinned. “Likely they don’t know how many guns we’ve got,” she said. “Anyway, once they dropped, they lost momentum for the charge. They must have figured it was better to fall back and try again.”
“And you held back the second round to delay them further,” Suliel said. Sergeant Mirok nodded.
“Aye, every time they get a shock they run around in circles for a bit,” she said. “Right now they think we can’t do a second shot in the time we have, so I’m thinking they’ll try and push through the gauntlet. When the second volley hits, they’ll freak out all over again. Hopefully.”
“Hopefully,” Suliel agreed. “There are so many of them, though.”
Sergeant Mirok shrugged. “That’s why it’s a delaying game,” she said.
“So now…” Suliel trailed off. She already knew the answer.
“We wait,” Sergeant Mirok confirmed.
Suliel sat down. With the only chair in the room occupied, she had to sink down to the floor, leaning against the door jamb. For the first time, she registered that she wasn’t properly dressed. She’d grabbed a robe to cover her nightdress back when she was in her room, but that was hardly a substitute for proper clothes. At some point she’d accepted a smallsword in its scabbard and belted it around her waist, making for a somewhat incongruous ensemble.
I should get dressed, she thought. I don’t want to go to my death—or kidnapping—dressed improperly.
She smiled wryly to herself as the opposite impulse hit her. Why bother? It’s not like there’s a proper gown to be kidnapped in.
“Get back, my Lady,” Sergeant Mirok warned. “They’re making another try.”
With reluctance, Suliel allowed herself to be shooed away. The sheer unpleasantness of being in the room when they were firing was a major factor in her decision.
“Ready volley… Volley Fire! Reload!”
The noise was much less deafening from here. Suliel waited tensely for some indication of how the volley had gone.
“Ready volley… Volley Fire! Reload! They’re breaking again!” The sergeant’s voice was filled with triumph. “Fire at will, squad! See how many we can get on their way back.”
This time a ragged fusillade sounded out, as soldiers fired as soon as they were ready instead of waiting for the slowest. Volley Fire, Suliel had been told, had a greater impact on enemy morale, but some of the soldiers had Traits that allowed them to fire faster, or more accurately, if they weren’t using Volley Fire.
It would be a little while before the next charge, Suliel thought. She headed downstairs to find her maids. They were on the ground floor with the rest of the servants, clutching their smallswords nervously. Suliel tried to project an aura of calm.
“I think the menfolk can spare you for a bit,” she said. “Come upstairs with me.”
“Yes, miss,” Shana Veris, the older of the two, said. “Should we…” she awkwardly held up the sword in its scabbard.
Suliel’s smile almost slipped. “Bring the weapons,” she said. They shouldn’t need them, but shouldn’t wasn’t wouldn’t.
Suliel led them up to her rooms on the third floor. Everything up here was well-lit, and she had a feeling that if the enemy had more infiltrators they would have used them by now.
They got to her room. The maids had followed her here without a word of explanation, but Suliel could feel their questioning glances.
“Since we have a moment between attacks,” she explained. “I thought I should get dressed properly.”
Both maids stared at her. Suliel gave them a questioning look of her own.
“What? You think I should welcome my husband's arrival in a nightgown?”
“Ah, no, miss. What would you like to wear?”
“Something practical, I think…”
After some discussion, they settled on a dress intended for hunts. It was one that Suliel had brought with her and not up to the dictates of court fashion, but she didn’t think that Anton would mind. Helping her into it seemed to calm the girls’ nerves, and Suliel had to admit that the familiar activity soothed her own anxiety.
They were almost done, when the first crack of a volley sounded. They all froze.
“Come on, let’s get this finished,” Suliel said. The girls nodded and busied themselves. Then the second crack sounded.
The final piece, her swordbelt, fit much more easily over the sturdy linen than it had over her nightgown. Suliel paused as the third crack sounded.
There wouldn’t be a fourth. Sergeant Mirok had explained that they would only have time for three volleys before the enemy came too close to the house. Firing at them then would require going up to the windows, which would expose them to the archers. Instead, the plan was to go down and man the barricades, fighting in close hand-to-hand. A single pair would remain upstairs, to hold off the ram.
Suliel swallowed. “Let’s go down. And… make sure you bring your swords. We might need them.”
“Yes, miss,” the maids said. Their voices trembled as they cast anxious glances at the sounds coming from downstairs.
Suliel sent a feeling of receptivity as she headed down the stairs.