The battle around the Temrenosian compound had been raging for a good half hour, with most of the eight or ten Ocealus guards having been killed in the initial assault. Masked and cloaked assailants then assaulted the walls, propping up small ladders and quickly scaling the five- to six-foot-high barrier. This was not accomplished without resistance however, Temrenosian rangers had taken up positions within the second floor of the central structure, giving them a full panoramic view of the courtyard and main gate. Other teams had moved to the roof of the building, providing additional support, while also watching the sections of the wall at the rear of the residence, close to the stables.
With less than a hundred feet of distance between the perimeter walls and the domus, the attackers were well within the ranger’s ideal range. Arrows rained down one after another in rapid succession, with attackers unable to defend during their short ascent. Those lucky enough to avoid in arrow during the climb were left stranded in the middle of an open courtyard, with nothing save for a few trees and shrubs to defend them against the onslaught of barbed arrows. Screams and cries rose in unison as the jagged metal arrowheads shredded unarmored flesh, sinking into the wounds, tearing gaping holes which left victims bleeding out on the stone pavement.
Even still, the sheer numbers which the assailing force employed threatened to overwhelm the defenders. With the losses taken during the journey to the capital, the defenders had been left with only around twenty experienced fighters, twenty-seven including the Jezebela, her guards, and the two remaining Ocealus guards. The rain was also now starting to come down harder, increasing the difficulty for the rangers to both see and strike their targets. However, the flaming oil pots the attackers attempted to use were negated, the rain quickly smothering any such actions before they had the chance to catch.
Non-combat convoy members were evacuated towards the central bath, its sturdy marble walls and solid foundations provided an effective area to bunker down. Other than a few of the slightly injured Temrenosian soldiers and both Ocealus guards, the rest of the men and women with combat experience rushed over to arm themselves. Those without arms such as the Scylla members borrowed whatever could find laying around in the makeshift armory. The prisoners had also been moved to a room just before the baths, the assortment of bandits and captured enemy prisoners remaining shackled but armed with simple wooden clubs and staves. A strategy meant to stall the attackers, forcing the prisoners into the role of unwitting meat shields, if the enemy managed to penetrate this deep.
“Get the rangers off the roof, tell them to move down to the second floor and continue suppressing the main enemy assault. Timeaus, I want you to take the young ones and hold the rear of the compound. Cut down anyone that tries to approach from the rear entrance and tell those Scylla friends of yours if to act as a roaming patrol.” The messenger had already left after Maatilani delivered her first set of orders. Not wanting to waste time while the attackers were incrementally making their way across the central courtyard, using the scattered trees, shrubs, and occasional wagon as barriers against the consistent arrow fire.
“No need Hritian, my men and I overheard what you need. We will happily hold the inner sector but know that if the situation devolves to the point where victory looks impossible, we will make our escape. Understand that I have a responsibility to my men, and my people, I cannot die here… but I will happily return the favor for these wonderful gifts.” Jezebela spoke with the confidence and authority of one in her position. She granted the barest modicum of respect toward the Hritian woman as a warrior, but made it clear she was not Maatilani’s subordinate and would not be commanded. She also made sure to insinuate that the engraved one-handed axe and curved dagger now belonged to her, that the price for their assistance would be for the finely crafted weapons taken from the convoy’s armory.
Maatilani seeing the worsening situation and understanding the risks they faced had little choice, assuaging to their demands, and rapidly ordering the forces to their positions for the upcoming clash. “Go now! Everyone to your positions.”
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“Uncle, you and the others go on ahead. We all know I am not the best fighter, and I don’t have the analytical skills or poison expertise of my sister. The five of you should go quickly, we can’t waste time, I will head up to the second floor and stick to my strengths.” Apollonius hugged his sister and uncle quickly, not allowing them a chance to reply before rushing up to the second floor. White knuckled fists clutching desperately to the composite ram horn bow in his hands, the slight tremors up his arms betraying the overly confident image he had shown in front of his family and friends.
“I can do this… I am not facing a monster, they’re just normal people. Shoot them and they die, that’s all.” Apollonius almost tripped but quickly caught himself before slamming face first into the wooden steps. A few slaps on both cheeks and he was ready, the shaking was barely noticeable and dissipating, his eyes clear as he charged up the steps toward his battlefield.
Upon reaching the top of the steps the sound of shouting intensified, around the corner that led onto the second-floor walkway was one of the rangers his body lying in a pool of blood, an arrow lodged in his throat. The area of skin directly surrounding the entry wound was turning black, the veins dyed in the same color, with the corpse’s eyes swelling outwards, seemingly on the verge of bursting.
Apollonius hid behind the nearby wall, pressing his back into the rough stone, his breathing aggravated, heart pounding at the risk of death. His eyes rapidly moving from one side, the location of the stairs to the first floor, to the other, the location where the sounds of yelling and the twang of multiple bowstrings could be heard. Although it took a few seconds of contemplation and inaction, in the end the result was clear, Apollonius held firm to his father’s bow, nocked an arrow and rushed out onto the path below the overhang, unleashing one arrow after another as he moved toward the rest of the defenders.
According to his training Apollonius kept moving, never remaining in one spot for two long, his eyes quickly analyzing the battlefield below, marking targets of opportunity before releasing his deadly payload. On instinct Apollonius dove to the left, seconds later the clink of iron striking stone could be heard, the darkened arrows falling impotently to the ground. Not one to waste precious resources, he scooped up the ammunition, depositing the poison barbed variants into his quiver and rushed towards where the fighting was thickest.
“Focus on the archers, we can’t lose anymore soldiers. The warriors below will have to take on the remaining enemies, we have done all we can.” Just as the ranger leader finished passing on his orders to the others, an arrow passed through the room window and striking him in the shoulder. He yelled out in pain as the wound started to fester and bleed, the man struggled out of the way, propped in a corner as another man got to work on the wound.
The shouts only grew louder and more sustained as the other man carved away at the entry wound with his knife, pulling away the arrowhead in addition to a chunk of attached flesh. An antidote was applied, and the flat of a heated blade pressed against the wound causing the flesh to sizzle and the man emit a muffled cry. The operation was rough, the very basic methods that was taught in school during the midday training, remove the object, apply an antidote or alcohol and then seal with fire before bandaging.
“What are you doing! Get down!” Someone grabbed Apollonius, pushing him to the ground and dragging him into another room to avoid the volley of arrows which passed dangerously close to the two. “Get your head in the game! One good hit and those things can take you out, so pay attention!” The female ranger pushed Apollonius across the room just as another arrow passed through the window and where his head had been just seconds ago.
“If you know how to use that thing then give us a hand, we need to at least keep the enemy archers suppressed so that they can’t turn their bows on our allies. But if you seem them stick out their necks, don’t hesitate to send a present their way.” As the woman mentioned present, she held up a serrated arrowhead, before nocking it against her bowstring and firing after moving from cover. Apollonius watched; his eyes glued to the arrow as it whistled through the air eventually piercing an enemy through the chest. He had just stepped out from behind cover, exposing himself as he took aim, his pained yells forcing the other back behind cover for fear of ending up the same.
“When in a situation like this, where we can’t retreat, analyze the enemy. Don’t just fire rapidly, mark your targets and wait, anticipate what they will do. Even if we can’t stop the enemy from reaching our allies on the first floor, it would be much worse if the enemy archers get involved. Our task is to keep them tied down and restrict their movement from our advantageous position. Understand?” Apollonius listened religiously, accepting the words the way a sponge soaks water. It was clear she spoke from a position of experience and skill, her lithe frame and muscled arms perfectly proportioned for handling a bow.
Apollonius turned his attention to the battlefield, eyes scanning the courtyard, the walls, any location the enemy may be hiding, making sure to stick close to the walls in case of enemy projectiles. As the woman had directed, he did not allow himself to be caught up in the moment, holding back his shots and waiting for the opportunity to present itself. When it did moments later, he emerged from cover, loosing the deadly projectile and watching it strike an enemy, throwing him down from the walls.
This was only the beginning however, the exchange transforming from a shootout to a measured back and forth. Allowing the attackers front line to move forward, while forcing their rear support to remain behind cover, suppressed by the targeted fire. Those on the front lines would have to hold their own, but none present had a shred of doubt in Commander Maatilani’s capabilities on that front.
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“Javelins! On my order!” Maatilani lowered her body slightly, positioning the shield in front and placing her spear upon the ground. The other soldiers under her command followed suite, mirroring her as she reached for and unsheathed one of the two javelins she and the others carried. One by one the enemy force approached, advancing slowly, and allowing for their numbers to swell as the arrow fire from the second floor began to diminish.
Maatilani had a small squad of four including herself, a total of five heavy infantry to hold back what she estimated to be around four times their own number. “Take up a wedge formation! I will lead, do not let the enemy cross this threshold. Follow your training, fight in pairs, and watch each other’s backs. If the situation allows and your partner falls injured, retreat to the rear and towards the inner atrium before returning to fight, understand!” The men and women stamped their feet in response, shouting their war chant in defiance of the oncoming enemy.
The enemy heard the chants and stumbled slightly in their advance, but upon noticing the small force in their path were emboldened. Rushing forward in a thick mass, looking to press through the defensive force and into the inner structure. Across from them Maatilani held her soldiers back, grasping their javelins as if they were spears, making the enemy believe they intended to clash against them.
It was at the twenty-foot mark that Maatilani shouted her orders, “Release!” The first volley of javelins soared through the air, catching the enemy completely off guard. Men in the front ranks were hit hard, the thick iron head penetrating armor with relative ease, while the condensed formation in which they had approached ensured more than one went down with each throw. Attackers fell to the ground; their lifeless or injured bodies being trampled by those behind. The entire attack coming to a halt as a massive crush ensued, men falling over one another or trampling one another. In this chaos, while the enemy was paralyzed, Maatilani and her elite troops unleashed their second and last volley, the javelins thrusting into the pile.
Terrified screams and yells of pain resounded into the night, the assault had been ground to a halt with two precisely timed and executed volleys. Yet the attack was not over, it was in this moment that Jezebela and her roaming band appeared from the flank. Both groups converged from either side of the dazed and confused enemy smashing into them, skewering and hacking to death any enemy in sight.
As if waiting for this moment, the second floor of the building sang with arrow fire, killing and suppressing the enemy back lines that were now exposed. Their attention had completely shifted and left them open for the ranger’s attack. When they returned to their cover, they were assaulted by the melee troops who cut them down easily and without a moment’s hesitation.
The main attack had been almost entirely repulsed, the attackers fleeing in fear at the blood-soaked soldiers who did not hesitate to cut down any too slow to escape. Yet they were unaware of the intense battle taking place to the rear of the building, one which introduced a new unknown element and threatened to upend the battlefield.
