The section of the fort that housed the prisoners had been constructed in such a way that the watchtower overlooked both the prisoners’ compound and the outer wall. I would later hear that some of the prisoners had doused the fires set near the watchtower while others had fought hand to hand with the Specks to hold the warriors back. Their valiant action had enabled their guards to organize themselves and retreat to the upper level of the watchtower. Flames leapt upon the roof of the tower; at least one of his fire-arrows had found its target. But the forces that held the watchtower were undeterred by the fire above them. From that vantage, their long guns were having a deadly effect upon the Specks. The open space around the watchtower was littered with bodies, many of them Speck. As we approached, it was obvious to me that the prisoners and their guards had joined forces, for gunfire came now from the lower level of the watchtower as well. As long as the defenders’ ammunition held out, the Specks had no hopes of taking the watchtower.
I knew that. Therefore Soldier’s Boy knew it also.
His Speck warriors did not seem to comprehend it. Even as we came onto the scene, a handful more brave than sensible rushed into the open, bows drawn, to launch their arrows at the high tower windows. Coming into the open was the only way for them to bring their weapons into effective range, yet the soldiers in the tower had only been waiting for them to do so. I heard the distant shout of “Fire!” and the bark of the long guns. Every one of the Specks went down. Four lay shuddering; only one crawled back toward the sheltering shadows. Another gun cracked and he, too, lay still. Soldier’s Boy’s whole body twitched as if the shot had entered him.
I had a moment of icy realization. If there was one good man in that tower, one sharpshooter, I was at the edge of his range. I could die at any moment now. Terror clawed at me from the inside as if I had swallowed a small beast with sharp claws. Still, I did not hesitate. I clenched myself around my fear and did not let it show. I did not warn him, but only breathed a prayer. Good god, let it happen now. Let this be over. I was sure that if Soldier’s Boy fell to a bullet, his followers would scatter.
The long guns in the tower flashed again; strangely, I do not recall that I heard them. Between the muzzle flash and the blows of the iron balls, I knew a thousand regrets for my life’s end, said a hundred farewells. To my left, a warrior crumpled, howling and clutching at his shattered knee. To my right, a man dropped without a sound. Before me, like a tiny hailstorm, the impact of bullets kicked up spurts of packed snow and ice. Was I hit? I waited for pain.
Soldier’s Boy did not. He jerked Clove’s big head around and kneed him at the same time. “Fall back!” I heard him shout, in Gernian, and then he cursed in the same language before crying, “Run! Get back—stay out of the open and the light! Get back!”
The fool had never thought to teach them how to retreat in an orderly fashion. In his arrogance, he’d never imagined that he’d need for them to know that. Now his careless order and his own apparent flight from the battle woke their fears, and the men who fled to follow him did so heedlessly. I heard another volley fired and screams behind me. Some of his warriors had not heeded his warning to stay out of the open in their haste to follow him away from danger.
At almost the same instant, I heard a sound that had never been sweeter in my ears. A trumpet sang, a call to arms. And miraculously, in the distance, from outside the fort, I heard another horn answer it, and then the heart-leaping sound as the same faraway instrument sounded a charge. Hope, all but dead in me a few minutes before, suddenly surged back to life. The first trumpet sounded again, within the fort, and it seemed much closer now. From the watchtower, I heard a resounding cheer. Then, a volley of bullets peppered the ground near us. A few, perhaps charged with an extra bit of powder or simply by luck, penetrated the shadows that hid us and found random targets. Three warriors howled in pain, and one abruptly fell, still.
“Follow me!” Soldier’s Boy shouted, and urged Clove into a trot. His warriors needed no urging. They ran alongside him. The leaping flames and the thick smoke that had been his allies earlier now seemed his enemy. He turned down one street, only to have a burning building suddenly sway and then collapse across his path in a searing whoosh of hot air and sparks. It was too much even for steady Clove. He half reared and whinnied in distress. Soldier’s Boy came shamefully close to falling off him before he mastered him and turned him aside from the wreckage. But now his warriors were in front of him in the darkness, blocking his path and milling in confusion. He had to force Clove through them, shouting, “Give way, give way!”
