Patience,he urged his beast.We must be clever.
After they’d exhausted their supply of decapitated heads, the Urkans had split their fleet in two. On the water, Urkan ships rammed against the inner river gates, demanding entry into Kovograd city. Zagadkian warriors flung stones from catapults mounted on either side of the gates and fired flaming arrows down from above. But Kassandr’s focus was on the vessels now docking at the outer moors. Warriors seeped from the prowed ships and poured along the docks.
Kassandr had pulled the Zagadkian warriors stationed at the outer moors and had ordered the area evacuated hours ago. The tower bell tolled loudly, citizens streaming from the city streets to the safety of Kovograd fortress. There, they were protected by both the city and the fortress walls. Fitted with outward-facing pikes, arrow slits, and murder holes, each was built upon earthen ramparts, with walkways and turrets protected by roofs. The Urkans would not have an easy time summiting either set of walls. But there was the ever-present fear lingering in the back of Kass’s mind. The glaring weakness his Saga had seen at once.
Kovograd’s walls were made entirely of wood.
On land, the Urkan warriors pulled ladders from their ships and rushed at the city’s land gates. But as Kassandr watched their land-based foes, they quickly split off into two groups. The first, to his consternation, joggedawayfrom Kovograd’s land gate. He scowled, wondering what they schemed at.
The second group of Urkans paused just out of his archers’ range. The plains leading up to Kovograd city’s land gates were kept barren for scenarios exactly like this. While merchant tables and tents had begun to crop up around the gates in more recent years, Kassandr had ordered them cleared out the moment the Urkan ships had been sighted. Now there was nothing to shield the Urkans—not a tree nor a boulder to conceal them.
Across the field, a bear-skinned warrior brushed his knuckles to his nose and took what appeared to be an enormous breath. Kassandr’s eyes narrowed as the warrior gave his head a rough shake,then howled at the sky. It seemed he’d taken his berskium powder, giving him the battle frenzy the Urkans were so famous for.
His own beast howled, begging to be let out, but Kassandr urged its patience.The time for carnage is near,he told it.
Having taken their berskium, the entire regiment now bashed their axes against shields, snarling and baying at the sky.
Kassandr gazed along the defensive wall. Behind the line of archers stood his Druzhina—his personal retinue—clad in full armor. He found Rov and Grigorii—even Oleg had come. Emotion thickened in Kass’s chest as they stood on the precipice of the battle of their lives.
“If the Urkans think such displays will cow us, then they do not know Zagadkians at all!” he bellowed, pounding his chest. “The eyes might be afraid, but the hands are doing! We fight for our motherland! We fight for our freedom! And we fight so our children and grandchildren will not!”
The Zagadkian warriors along the wall voiced their agreement—a barrage of animalistic growls and snarls, yips and bellows. It was the sound of his people, and Kassandr had never been so proud to be one of them. For a single, weightless moment, he was certain every step in his life had been leading him here.
And then the moment was broken. Their enemies surged across the field, laddermen flanked by shieldmen and fierce axe-wielding warriors.
Heart pounding, Kassandr raised a fist. Feathers rustled as arrows were fitted.
“Fire!” he roared the moment the Urkans came within range.
Archers unleashed a flurry of arrows. Screams split the air, men stumbling and crashing to the ground. They were quickly trampled by their brethren, with more storming from the docks to join the charge.
“Again!” Kassandr barked.
More arrows flew, more men fell. But ladders were now thudding against the palisades, berserkers scrambling up.
“Forks!” shouted Kass.
Rov led a wave of warriors forward, hooking pronged instruments under the ladders. With a hearty shove, the ladders tipped backward, warriors screaming as they lost their grips and fell. Those who survived the fall were crushed by others clambering for their turn at the ladder.
The air filled with screams and snarls and the thunder of battle. Kassandr bellowed orders to target new laddermen, to drop rocks on the shield walls assembling around the base of the ladders.
His beast clawed against his rib cage, howling in indignation. Where was the honor in this type of battle? He much preferred to look his enemy in the eye as he delivered their death. But this was no tournament, and it was not merely Kassandr’s own life at stake. Thousands of innocent people sheltered behind these walls.
“Oil!” shouted Kass, making room for a pair of apprentices shuffling forward with a cauldron between them. With a grunt, they heaved the cauldron onto the wall and tipped it on its side. Steaming oil gushed down, hissing and spitting. The shield wall below fractured, men rolling and howling, tearing at their skin, and though it was far from delightful, Kassandr allowed himself a small smile.
Something at the far end of the field caught his eye. A sail had been trussed up between trees, feet scurrying about behind it. But as more ships docked and hundreds more berserkers streamed onto the battlefield, Kassandr could not afford to give the strange sail another thought.
A sharp, splintering sound scraped down Kassandr’s spine, and he whirled toward the river. He quickly spotted the source of the sound—a large Urkan warship had just crashed into the inner gates.
Kassandr assessed the chaos on the water. Half a dozen Urkan ships had capsized, but he saw twice as many walrus corpses bobbing on the surface. Ivar’s archers had arrows nocked, firing them into the river. He cursed under his breath, hoping Morzh and the bulk of his walrus shifters had managed to escape; that they could rest and regroup.
Another large vessel raced toward the river gates at alarmingspeed, the Urkan oarsmen paddling furiously. It struck with a sickening crack, the wood of the gates groaning long after. Zagadkian warriors flung stones from atop the gates, and they crashed through the hides shielding the oarsmen. Screams tore from the ship, and it wobbled side-to-side but did not sink. Kassandr’s gaze flew to a cluster of warships waiting their turn to ram into the gate. How long would it hold?
“Volk!” he shouted. “What is the delay with the boat?”
Volk appeared by his side, perspiration dotting his brow. “We had troubles navigating the back channel and had to portage, but it is done. There.” The wolf shifter pointed to a small ship, barely visible through thick grass.
Kass finally drew breath. “This must work,” he muttered.
