Chapter Twenty-Seven, 'Battle for the monastary; part one'

They were hiding their movements well. If it weren't for the Ga-Vok having a complete misunderstanding of Nieldic sensory perception, they never would have seen the attack coming.

"Commander, they're coming sir."
"Down Nethen."
"Sir?"
"Get down!"

The lieutenant ducked just in time to avoid a bar age of arrows. Only a faint flicker from the stars betrayed the torrent of steel-tipped death. Fortunately the silence had allowed the commander's warning to be be heard all along the rampart. The sound of wasted arrows clattering off of the paving below was unjoined by the screams of pain expected by the enemy.

A second volley was preceded by the commander whispering, "Pain this time, let them think they've met success."
It was passed down the line and obeyed as the second volley began to fall. It was a practiced measure; everyone had a practiced set of grunts, moans, and screams to express their pain. The Ga-Vok would have considered all the time spent not practicing combat a waste, but with their numerical disadvantage, Haelvan and the defenders of the monastery would need every bit of time they could get.

"Nethen, how many do you see?"
"Upwards of a thousand, the armored ones are advancing on the gate with the ram sir."
"Distance?"
"Maybe a few centimeters sir. Should I sound the attack?"
"Pull back to the upper ramparts. I'll follow shortly."
"Sergeant, take the men to the upper rampart; we'll fight from there."
"That's odd. I seem to remember telling YOU to lead the men to the ramparts."
"Someone has to make sure you don't throw yourself at them."

Haelvan rose quietly, fitting an arrow to his bow as he did. He loosed it at the ram-bearers by the gate. One of the heavily armored soldiers dropped sprouting the fletched shaft from his chest.
"Drat! I meant to hit the one across from him."
As the Ga-Vok rushed to defend themselves the back of an arrow appeared upon one of their shields, it's owner collapsing behind it.
"Nice shot sir. You must have really strong arms to put an arrow through a shield like that."
"Sir" he finished quietly, "Not really Nethen, this bow was a gift from my wife. She used to do enchantments. I've certainly got some practice in, but my friend here makes every shot count for a little more. It does a few other things too. Mejcotou!"
He loosed the arrow and as it left the string it split into a dozen arrows of the same size and velocity. Fewer of them hit of course, but more of them got hit. A volley of arrows cut the air about them, as the Ga-Vok retaliated at last.
"Sir."
"Of course Nethen, we can join the others on the rampart now."

They reached the barricade erected at the top of the ramp just in time. Behind them a particularly, well, magical sort of darkness formed about the gate and the sounds of steel and wood being crushed followed.

Fortunately it was not the armored warriors who first rushed through the broken defenses. The warriors now charging towards them were of the local clans. Poor, badly equipped, and disorganized these were the sort of troops the rail-cannon had been designed for.
Lucky they happened to have a rail-cannon.

"Sporks away!"
The mess hall's most underapreciated utensils were now moving at speeds noticeably above that of sound. They may not have been very useful for eating, but their effect on the charging foe was, "Permit me a pun sir?"
"Of course Nethen, you know how much I appreciate a little battle humor."
"Using the sporks on our enemies, a delicious move sir."
"Not bad, but I think you can do better."
"Sorry sir."
"Maybe later. Men! Form ranks, take aim, fire!"

Against as simplistically equipped troops as these, the crossbow volley was devastatingly effective. The enemy ranks wavered before resuming their charge.
"Commander sir, Mr. Haelvan?"
"Just like practice. What do you need my dear?"
"I'm considering being afraid now."
"No worry Lieutenant. No one likes killing, we just do it because we have to."
"Have you fought before?"
"Yes, riots, minor rebellions, raids back in the war a few times; I've fought before I suppose."
"I haven't, I don't want to die yet sir."
"Then fight. And stay close, I can tell you have something unfinished you'll need someone to know about if you do. Since you know my request, it seems fair I should be there for yours."
"I don't know if I could tell you sir."
"Stop worrying," He loosed an arrow into the now quite nearby horde, "I might already know."

"Swords! For the Emperor men, for the Emperor and till the rising of the sun!"
"FOR THE EMPEROR!"
They hacked the enemy warriors, slashing and stabbing they fought. It felt like days, the onslaught never ceased. The cannon was dragged back damaged, wounded were taken within the monastery. It was about four when the line broke. Nethen stood by the commander, his arrows punishing those who assaulted his command, and her blade allowed no passage to him.

Battle had an effect on the men. Calm, composed men, ones who had spent yesterday joking about or field testing the latest equipment were today standing in pools of their enemies blood. Some of the most dignified and intelligent of the garrison's men smeared with blood, not all of it their foes, and with wounds as deep as the well. Had Nethen been aware of her own wounds it would have startled her. Arrows riddled her armor, and her left arm was still host to a shattered spear. Like her men Nethen fought on, such was the frenzy of battle.

The enemy was making way, she could see the armored ones approaching. And with them came the sedan of the warlock. Purple silk drapes, Gold inlay, and a chiseled oak frame; but all were made dim by the power of Kron. The warlock had come at last.