A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor
Chapter 1746 - 1746: A Long Slumber - Part 3

The last few men holding off the stairs collapsed, one by one, until it was just a single man bravely hanging on, covering a space meant for three men. He ran back and forth with a franticness, fending off men of the Second Boundary. Tavar's men attempted to ignore him, but he would come lunging at them as soon as they did.

He wasn't an overwhelmingly powerful man. What lent him his strength, it seemed to Oliver, was the loyalty he had. He was a Blackthorn soldier – and even he was flustered by the mighty weight that he had to shift by himself. All of that normally stern Blackthorn ferocity was thrown out of the window, replaced by something considerably more desperate, and considerably more urgent.

He might have bought them a full minute more of time, or it might have been as short as thirty seconds. The irritation was plain on the face of those powerful enemies, that they could have been held up for so long by what – to them – appeared as nothing more than a rabbit of a man, even if he was dressed in Blackthorn armour.

A spear found that man's side, and buckled up. Then a sword found the space between his ribcages, whilst another sword fell down from above, plunging through his helmet, and cutting straight into the hard bone of his skull, felling him in an instant.

A satisfaction that a single foot soldier ought not to have brought. There was a cry of victory. Tavar's men hefted their weapons up into the air, to bellow their approval for the way that had now opened up for them. Firyr and Jorah tried to battle towards those stairs from the side, but they were being held off by a mightily effective wall by now. Tavar and his men had secured all the foothold that they needed, and there was naught that could stop them.

The first group descended down the first flight of stairs, a trio of Second Boundary men amongst them. Enough of a number to lift the gate beams.

They reached the first landing unmolested, as the stairs changed direction, and led down in another flight. And it was there that the Gods seemed to show the Patrick and Blackthorn men some degree of mercy. Or perhaps it would have been more accurate to say it was not the Gods, but the cunning of a troop that had been allowed its degree of freedom, even after Oliver had been once more relieved of overall command.

A flight of arrows crashed down on those men. Two of the Second Boundary men were killed in an instant, by arrows that seemed to have been fired more quickly than the rest. And then men that followed them found themselves no better placed. It was a concentrated storm, and accurate enough that hardly a man seemed to escape the wounding.

Before they could think to gather themselves, another set of arrows was being sent their way, and that final Second Boundary man was taken down along with them, with an arrow to the eye.

Oliver looked up, and caught that flash of red hair that he had so expected to see, whenever there was a mighty effect in the realm of archery. "Nila…" He murmured to himself with the smallest of grins. Though she had no doubt been busy with her own work of fending off those legions of archers that gathered outside of the wall, she and Professor Yoreholder had still managed to keep enough of an eye on the overall battlefield that they were there when their men needed them most.

Finding a second wind, Oliver and his men pushed through further, nearing towards where Jorah currently stood, trying to fight his way through with Kaya by his side, but finding himself effectively stifled against the constant stream of flowing Tavar men. They had culled the first lot that made it towards the stairs, but the landing point was far from being defeated. More men climbed up the ladders to replace the first, and they were afflicted by the same degree of Command, thinly spread amongst them.

"Damn it… We need Karesh," Jorah said, realizing very well that their attacking might wasn't enough alone to break through. He hacked away at the wall in front of them with Kaya, and he'd placed all his men to the best degree that he could, in an attempt to stifle Tavar's lot, and make them especially weak to a single piercing attack. But even with he and Kaya together, they couldn't overcome those men, animated by Command as they were.

Firyr on the other side found much the same problem, even with Karesh to fight alongside him. He couldn't tangle up Tavar's men in the way that Jorah had. He had not the strategic mind for it. But even in the constant wave of charges that he affected the enemy with, they had not the slightest bit of give, nor the slightest bit of hope. It was as if they were attacking a fortress within a fortress – only this fortress was comprised entirely of men.

"JORAH!" Oliver shouted, warning him of his approach.

Jorah lifted his head, just enough to see his General – and Blackthorn and Gar along with him. He had to stifle a smile, as suddenly, he was allowed exactly what he needed. He'd prayed to the Gods merely for Karesh, and in response, they had given him three of the mightiest swords that he knew.

So it was that Jorah saw his battlefield strategy changed. The men that he'd arranged in order to stifle Tavar's number, and lock them in place, instead moved, to allow a single hole in the centre. A point where they would be weaker.

He could not have adopted such a formation even if they'd had Karesh on their side. For in removing men from the centre as he had, he weakened any charge that was to come. Potentially, anyway. If the men he was allowed were of an ordinary sort, such a formation, against men as inspired and immoveable as Tavar's, would have been a recipe for disaster. However, if it was the sort of overwhelming reinforcement like the one that Oliver brought with him, what Jorah allowed for was a greater degree of speed.