Fragments Gallery
Awaiting Death
I pull myself up from the last rung of the ladder onto the highest platform in the siege tower. Surrounding me are my comrades. We are all dressed in similar fashion; in chainmail with a black tunic on top. In the faint streaks of light which pass through the gaps in the tower walls our helmets, with their horned tops which in the semidarkness seem to be one with our skulls, appear demonic. I can smell the fresh pine used to build the tower through the stench of sweat and iron.
At the urging of those behind I move forwards to join the press of those who wait around the closed entry at the front of the tower. This level is already fairly packed; I know we will not have too much longer left to wait.
I was right; we did not have long left. My level filled quickly, and then the levels below mine called out when they too filled. A horn call splits the air and the drums at the base of our tower begin to boom.
A hush fell upon the tower’s occupants as we began to rock forwards.
The gentle rocking motion is soothing, but my nerves still are fraying slowly as I think of what we are heading towards. I take a deep breath and look around, seeking to find something with which to distract myself.
Light filters in through the slatted side of the tower. The dust floating above our armoured heads swirls through the light beams. Failing to find anything inside worthy of my attention I put my eye to one of the cracks in the tower side and peer out beyond. I can barely see beneath one of the heavy canvas sheets hanging on the outside of the tower. At first I am blinded by the sunlight beyond but eventually my vision clears.
I can see a line of our other siege towers rolling resolutely forwards, and past that I see hills of dried yellow grass and blue skies. I shift position and am rewarded with a changed perspective. Ahead of us I can see the wall towards which we grow ever closer. The ramparts are bristling with soldiers; they stand silently, as patiently awaiting our arrival as if we are honoured guests.
Their quiet regard of our towers is unsettling. I feel a surge of fear of what was to come. Soon we would arrive at the wall, soon we would fight. Many of us would die. But I will survive, for I cannot die yet. I'm not ready for that; not ready for the endless sleep.
The creaking wheels echoed up from far below as the tower rolled on. It carried us towards our inescapable fates.
Arrows pound against the wood of the tower casing. Some of the broad heads punch through the wood and thick canvas but thankfully I hear no cries of pain. It seems the tower has served its purpose so far.
Another volley strikes our walls. This time some of the arrows are lit, I can smell the smoke. All we can do is hope that the tower does not light. It could easily become a deathtrap.
The arrows continue to fall as we grow ever closer. Occasionally there is a scream as an arrow finds a gap and pierces the tower. Thankfully none pierced near me.
The tower shudders to a stop and the drums below falter and then stop. I glance out the crack; we have reached the wall. I adjust my shield and tighten my grip on the hilt of my blade. One of my comrades looks at me and nods, he is wishing me luck. I return the gesture.
The ramp at the front begins to fall open letting in a flood of light. As the light grew a roar arose; a roar caused by the clash of sword on shield and the war chants of my comrades. I find my own voice joining the call, seemingly of its own accord. I bash the flat of my blade against my shield adding to the din. With a great crash the ramp falls upon the bulwark. We surge forwards onto their waiting weapons.
Battle is joined.