Chapter 11: The Battle for Uhlenom
~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~
Link
Uhlenom was one of the three largest Zonai cities, the capital of Owl's territory. As such it had not been razed to the ground, as Skohrych had been. Link had felt first surprised, then greatly relieved, to see the great wall around the city still standing, for the most part. And to see the buildings on the inside likewise largely intact.
F'we can take th'city, we may actually be able t'hold some f'th'ceremonies f'th'day f'Nayru, he remembered thinking hopefully as he and his platoon of forty wolves entered the city from a gap in the southern wall, encircled by Zonai shamans keeping guardians from the perimeter.
Now, some hours into the push, the lack of visibility was proving to be both a blessing and a curse.
Link and his wolves sheltered in an alley between mostly intact stone buildings, backs against the wall as Wulkrik inched around the corner of a mound of rubble, peering down the road that intersected theirs. Distant echoes of guardian canons and the sharp cracks of musket fire sounded like wayward thunder, but their road was clear – for the moment.
"All clear," Wulkrik said quietly, jogging back towards him.
"Forward, then," Link ordered. "Two t'a time. Across th'road, then against th'wall."
And the wolves began crossing the road in pairs, dashing across, the next pair waiting a few seconds before pursuing as Wulkrik kept a wary eye on either end of the road. The wolves that made it to safety on the other side of the road pressed against the walls of the two temples framing the road, crouching low.
Wulkrik suddenly held up a fist and pulled back behind his pile of rubble. The next pair of wolves did not cross the road, and they waited in silence with baited breath as the skittering of massive guardian legs sounded, much too close.
Wulkrik lowered his fist, and the next two wolves darted across the road – about half had crossed now. Link's heart pounded hard in his chest, a bead of sweat dripping down his brow.
At last it was his and Wulkrik's turn to cross. Side by side, they sprinted out into the open for the briefest instant, exposed on all sides, feet pounding against the stone-paved road, and then shadows closed in on them once more and they were safe from guardian eyes.
Link pulled the rolled up map of Uhlenom from his belt and shook it out, looking it over. The city was circular in shape, spreading across a large peninsula encircled by rivers. Link's team had been chosen to secure a position along the northern side of the city – the farthest of any of the other teams. The hope was that, with Link and Gotvin's experience fighting guardians, they would be the most capable of dealing with them and covering that greater distance. For whatever it's worth, Link thought grimly. There were far more Sheikah and new guardians in the city than reported. Link's platoon had been persistently blocked in the east, and so had been forced to choose a north-westward route towards their destination instead of cutting straight through the center.
"Zothun, try t'get up t'th'roof f'th'temple," he commanded, nodding at the spry young Boar warrior. "Wulkrik, scout th'next intersection. See which direction looks promising."
The warriors set off with a nod, leaving the rest of the force to wait huddled in the shadows out of sight. Link glanced back down the southern road they'd come from. The gap in the city wall was no longer visible, but he imagined platoons of wolves were still being sent out. Link and his team had been pressing forward for half a day now, had several encounters with Sheikah and smaller guardians, experienced some close calls with the larger guardian variety – stalkers, the Zonai had taken to calling them. Link had nearly frozen in terror at the sight of the first one, a single thought reverberating through his skull: There're more f'them.
He recalled his meeting with the Zonai leaders, as they solidified their plan for the attack. "We can't rush th'city with our main force all t'once," they had decided, after hearing his report. "We'd just be feeding them cannon fodder. How many men could they kill in a single blast, y'think?"
Link had felt his mouth dry as he considered it. "T'least ten, with a clear shot," he guessed anxiously. That beam of death had been so dreadfully destructive.
"Would our stone buildings resist their fire well enough?"
"Hard t'say," Link had answered. "Felled a tree easy enough, and blasted craters into soft soil, but… against solid stone… I don't think it'd go straight through."
In the end, the ultimate strategy had not changed much. "We'll still move t'encircle th'city, then increase pressure on th'Sheikah in th'center until we force a surrender or kill them all. We'll send in smaller, more mobile platoons f'wolves one t'a time – they'll use th'structures within Uhlenom for cover and each secure a portion f'th'boundaries f'th'city. Once th'perimeter's established and th'Sheikah in th'city are cut off, we'll send in reinforcements f'normal soldiers, start driving th'Sheikah out for good." The Generals had passed on Link's report of the new kind of guardian to everyone in Skohrych and the surrounding areas who would take part in the battle, then given him charge of a larger group of wolves to lead into position. Among them were twenty gunmen, ten archers, and ten shield-bearing warriors.
"West road's our best bet," Wulkrik reported, returning. "Saw four guardian stalkers cross in th'east. Evidence f'Sheikah crossbowmen on th'–"
He was interrupted by a sudden shout of pain, and in the next instant the sickening crunch of bone filled Link's ears as Zothun tumbled from his perch on the temple and landed at his feet, a crossbow bolt in his chest, his limbs horribly bent and misshapen from the fall. Link's heart lurched and he shoved the prickling in his eyes aside. "Sheikah crossbowmen!" he hissed. "West road, now!"
And the wolves broke into a swift jog, Link shoving the map back into his belt and racing past his men to take the lead as they reached the end of the block and veered left down the western road, crossbow bolts striking the stone around them as shadows from above poked their heads over the roofs of the temples and workshops around them. Link heard another agonized cry from behind and felt his heart seize. A crossbow bolt hit the ground directly in front of him and he skipped instinctively around it, nearly stumbling.
And then the road in front of them suddenly widened, thanks to a blacksmith's forge that had somehow exploded at some point. A guardian stalker skittered out from behind a building –
"Find cover!" Link roared, pointing at the destroyed forge and darting towards it even as the familiar high-pitched beeping that haunted his nightmares started up. "Get down!"
They ducked down between what remained of two of the walls of the workshop, crammed in together, and the beeping paused, as did the barrage of crossbow bolts. Link's heart hammered – Shiekah snipers in one direction, if not more, likely already moving to a more favorable position. And a guardian stalker camped right outside their hiding place.
But the workshop's walls had some windows still in place. "Guns up," Link said quietly, sliding his own matchlock from his shoulder. "F'y'can get t'a window, take aim at th'guardian. You'll only have a few seconds t'aim. Remember – go for th'eye! On my mark…" He waited, listening carefully, for the skittering of the guardian's legs to draw louder – closer. His stomach whirled nauseatingly with dread and adrenaline. "Now!"
He raised his musket against his shoulder, narrowed his gaze down the iron sights, stood just tall enough to see beyond the rim of the countertop he'd ducked beneath and out into the street. The guardian's head whirled back and forth, searching for its target – it found him, red targeting beam shooting out, and the beeping started up again; the guardians seemed eerily aware of who exactly stood the best chance against them. Its erratic movements stilled, its bead precise over his pounding heart. Link pulled the trigger, a small burst of flame warming his face. Half a second – then a thunderous explosion and fire shooting from the barrel of his gun – then another, and another, from the wolf warriors at his side. The guardian recoiled from the force of the blows, great holes blasted into its outer shell, many right alongside its eye. It wobbled in place, teetering on two legs, then collapsed onto its side, exposing a peculiar glowing core on its underside. Its legs still moved – it wasn't dead yet.
Link's gaze darted around the street around them. No sign of the Sheikah crossbowmen – they would've ducked for cover the instant their quarry was out of reach. And the guardian was out of commission for the next while yet.
"Reload, and prepare t'move," Link ordered. "Northern road behind th'shop – narrow alley, too close for th'Sheikah t'shoot down. Five t'a time, shields and archers first. Th'rest f'y'reload and provide cover." He pulled the ramrod from the base of his musket and began loading the next round, pouring powder down the barrel followed by the musket ball itself, then refilling the pan with powder as well. He held the gun back to his shoulder, sights trained on the guardian, as the first five wolves ran to the cover of the alley he'd pointed out.
It was infuriating, how many fights they'd had to walk – or rather, run – away from. It would fall to the teams coming in behind them to deal with them properly. For now Link's platoon just had to get to their assigned position along the border of the city with enough resources left from the initial push to hold the area long enough to receive reinforcements. But these pockets of Sheikah holed up on rooftops and often within the upper levels of buildings with windows, not to mention the occasional forces of smaller guardians and guardian stalkers, were proving to be an extreme hindrance. Link felt constantly that they were on the verge of getting pinned, trapped, surrounded with no escape, to suffer death from guardian fire. Even now his back seemed to twinge, sensing the imminent presence of a crossbow bolt from behind in his back.
He and Gotvin were among the last five to sprint to safety, and even as they did so the guardian managed to right itself, domed head rotating back and forth as it struggled to regain sight of its quarry.
"Wulkrik!" Link shouted, feeling that their discovery – a line of thirty-some men in a narrow alley – was only moments away.
"Eastern path's clear!" the Owl warrior called back from the front of the platoon.
"Take it!" Link ordered, boots slapping against the ground in time to Gotvin's heavy breathing beside him. And the men were running again. The guardian's beeping started up again just as Link dove for cover down the eastern road, throwing himself against the wall of a house. The beeping stopped, and the whirring of Sheikah tech and clattering of guardian legs didn't draw nearer – the alley was too narrow for it to pursue them. Link released a heavy breath.
He consulted his map once again. They had covered perhaps a fourth of the distance to their assigned position – he tried not to feel discouraged about that. He swallowed thickly. "Make sure your guns're loaded," he said. "Take a moment t'breathe. We'll move on in a minute or so." They would soon come across a canal carving a path northwest to southeast through the city. There were many such canals in Uhlenom, providing drainage of waste and floodwaters, and irrigation for the small parcels of farmland on the edge of the city. From the canals Link had seen thus far, they should provide decent cover from guardians and Sheikah if he and his men could reach it, and this one in particular was heading in a fairly useful direction. F'we can find a good northern road, we'll come across it before long, he noted, estimating the distance from their current position.
"Alright," he muttered, pushing to his feet. "Down this next block, then let's try and take th'next road north." He addressed a particularly lithe wolf standing near him. "Can y'climb?"
The man nodded. "Yes, sir."
"Then you're our new building scout," he said grimly. "Keep an eye on th'rooftops and climb up t'spy out th'Sheikah snipers when I say."
The wolf nodded in acknowledgement, and Link fought back a grimace, leading the men down the block. Zothun was just a boy – I thought I could keep him safe. Now he was gone, taken by surprise by a Sheikah crossbow bolt. One of the team members he'd taken on many a sabotage mission, felled at last by a coward.
"This road's clear," Wulkrik called, as quietly as he could manage and still be heard, peering down the northern road at the end of the block.
"Let's go," Link said grimly, starting forwards into the alley. A musty breeze whistled eerily through the windows of the still-intact walls of the buildings framing the path; the roofs had caved in and Link could clearly see sky on the other side of the windows, instead of the shadows of an abandoned interior room.
And a flicker of movement.
His pulse jumped and he stared up at the destroyed buildings anxiously. F'th'first floor wasn't actually destroyed, it'd make a decent platform for –
A volley of crossbow bolts plunged into the platoon from the opposite side of the road from where Link had been watching, drawing cries of shock and pain from the wolves they struck. "Run!" Link shouted, his heart clenching tightly at the agonized shouts as he urged them forward down the alley.
Only for a squad of Sheikah footsoldiers and smaller guardian scouts to emerge from the intersection ahead of them, blocking their way forward. Hang it all – crossbowmen t'our backs, footsoldiers ahead here t'stall us until they reload – but we have t'break through!
"First volley, muskets!" he commanded, sliding his musket from his shoulder and taking aim. "Target th'guardian scouts!"
The volley thundered out, echoing loudly between stone walls, and the guardians toppled over amidst a cloud of smoke. In such a narrow space, they were easy prey for musket balls.
"Archers t'th'front!" Link barked, standing still and reloading his musket as his longbowmen pushed to the front of the group, quickly nocking arrows and taking aim at the smokey haze over the guardian remnants, obscuring the Sheikah footsoldiers. "Be ready when they come!"
Except they waited, one moment then another, and the Sheikah made no attempt to climb over the guardian wreckage – at least, none of them emerged from the smoke hanging low in the alley. Link frowned, brow heavily furrowed. They're using th'smoke from th'guns t'their own advantage. "Advance cautiously," he ordered warily. "They might jump out t'any second."
Crossbow bolts rained down in the next moment from behind, many clattering against the ground but others plunging into Zonai flesh or a few hastily raised shields. "Forward!" Link exclaimed, cursing himself for his moment of hesitation. Lerkin stupid – I should've charged them from th'beginning!
And then suddenly the Sheikah that had hidden themselves in the smoke from musket fire were all around them. Link caught a glancing blow from a tachi sword across his arm and whirled to the side to strike the head of his attacker from his shoulders and kick the body down into the Sheikah behind him, sending the man staggering backwards. Link plunged his sword through the soldier's neck and yanked it out with a spray of blood to smack aside the end of a naginata spear swinging towards him.
They're keeping us pinned here for th'crossbowmen t'reload! "Focus th'eastern front!" he roared. "I need ten men on me – th'rest f'you, push th'eastern road!"
The tachi wielders on this western side of the intersection had mostly been struck down, but the Sheikah soldiers with polearms remained. Link caught a blow from the naginata-wielding Sheikah soldier on the crossguard of his sword and forced the sharp blade away from his body. Not quickly enough – it bit into his gambeson and skimmed painfully across his left bicep. With a fierce yell he successfully deflected the next attack, then the next, his sword flying as he pressed the soldier back. The naginata managed to nick the top of his shoulder but then Link was within the soldier's reach and buried his sword up through the man's ribcage.
His brothers had taken out most of the other Sheikah on this side of the road by now; the rest of them fled, and Link ushered his men back around to rejoin the rest of the platoon and charge down the eastern fork of the intersection –
Just as a volley of crossbow bolts shot towards them from the alley they had come from, the Sheikah evidently having moved down from the rooftops. "Into the building!" Link exclaimed, thrusting a hand out towards a house with its door missing on one side of the. He put on an extra burst of speed and managed to take the lead, guiding the wolves into the house, over charred shapes he tried not to think much about, through shadowed halls smelling of smoke, and finally out the back into an incredibly narrow alley wide enough only for one man at a time. Not a place t'get stuck!
The door at the back of the house was close to where the alley met a north-to-south main road. Link sent Wulkrik ahead to scout and then beckoned the rest of his men towards it, leading the way onto the main road and heading north along the block to the next intersection. He could see from here that the northern road was mostly blocked by a massive mound of rubble; as he neared he realized that the next block had once housed a temple that was completely destroyed. Much of the remnants, along with one exterior wall mostly intact, formed the pile of rubble blocking the road; the rest were scattered in piles along the rest of the road, alongside pieces of the interior walls that somehow still stood. Link's lip curled in anger –
"Wait," Wulkrik hissed, holding out a hand to stop him at the edge of the next building. "There's a stalker down west!"
A chill jolted through Link's blood and he peered cautiously around the side of the building. A rush of several emotions flooded his mind – relief, for here was the canal he'd wanted to come across, set about four feet into the ground with perhaps a foot of water in the bottom. Disappointment – although there was a bridge over the canal halfway down the block that a man could easily cross under, there were no bridges where the river passed beneath the road. Instead the canal passed through a narrow tunnel too small for any of his men to crawl through; to cross over a road, his men would have to climb out from cover and then jump back down. The canal wouldn't be the easy cover he'd hoped for.
And then there was the familiar jolt of numbing terror at the sight of the guardian stalker perched at the western end of this next block, obscuring their way forward, waiting for any of them to poke their heads out.
Link pulled back behind the building, his heart racing and his mind flying with anxiety. We have t'take that western road. Which means we need t'eliminate th'stalker.
He swallowed thickly and gathered ten of his best shots with the matchlock close. "Take th'northern road and see f'y'can use th'rubble t'get closer t'th'stalker," he commanded, and sent them off, watching with his heart in his throat as they crossed three at a time, dashing to cover when the guardian's swiveling domed head was pointed away from them. When they were all across, in the shadow of the ruined temple wall, he lost sight of them and had to wait for them to start making their way from rubble mound to rubble mound.
And when the first two emerged, the guardian spotted them almost instantly. Link ground his teeth together, pulse flying as they sprinted back into cover.
Hang it all – that won't work. Th'rubble on th'ground's too short t'hide them!
The canal, however…
Although it wouldn't provide much cover for the long term, it would be perfect for getting up close to the guardian stalker. Signaling with a hand on their shoulders, Link took Wulkrik and three other men with muskets and hopped down into the canal, water splashing up and peppering his exposed knees. He slid his musket from his shoulder and led the men down into the canal, crouched low and pressed against the side of the canal. His heart squeezed, hearing the rhythmic whirring and scraping of guardian machinery getting steadily closer and louder until they reached the end of the canal.
"On my signal, take aim," Link breathed, holding up three fingers and counting down. When his last finger went down he straightened, put his gun to his shoulder, sighted down the barrel at the guardian mere yards away, waited with his heart in his throat for its head to swivel around and find them.
And when it did, orange lights erupted across its body and the familiar red targeting beam shot forth. "Fire!" Link barked, pulling the trigger. A half second in which the only sound was the frantic beeping of the guardian's targeting systems. Then an eruption of flame and thunder, and the guardian was blasted onto its side, smoke sizzling up from multiple holes in its shell. Its lights went dead. Link grinned victoriously, sliding his musket back onto his shoulder.
And then there came a skittering of more guardian legs, and in the next instant four guardian scouts dropped into the canal with them, two abreast. The first two stretched out their tachi sword-wielding limbs in a nightmarishly familiar way. Link's heart sent an acidic thrill of fear through his veins.
"Run!" Link bellowed, turning and sprinting for the bridge, the men alongside him doing the same. The terror he glimpsed on Wulkrik's face matched the burning in his blood – they both remembered well the first time they'd seen this move.
He heard the whirring behind him as the guardians started their devastating spinning attack and put on an extra burst of speed, seeing the bridge looming ahead of him – the scouts wouldn't be able to pass between the wooden supports – the whirring of guardian blades ever closer –
He passed beneath the bridge as bloodcurdling screams tore the air behind him and he whirled around, instantly overcome by horror. His heart stopped, his blood turned to ice and froze him in place.
Blood everywhere, spattered against the bridge, on the sides of the canal, on Link's own clothing and the clothing of the one other wolf that had escaped. Severed legs and arms still twitching. The bodies of his brothers in arms stained crimson, split into pieces, screams of the dying rending his ears. Wulkrik's face twisted into an expression of unimaginable agony as he lay on the opposite side of the canal from half of his body, crying out his last breaths. He watched them dying, even as the guardians that had killed them hacked at the wooden supports of the bridge, trying to get through. He couldn't move; he couldn't breathe; his heart was racing double time, his stomach shuddering violently.
The guardian scouts cut through two of the bridge's supports, and it creaked ominously. Link felt a heavy hand on his shoulder and felt dimly aware of Gotvin, all color absent from his weathered face with his eyes wide in horror, forcibly dragging him from the canal now running red. Heard him shouting orders in his stead. Kept a firm hand on his arm, pulling him forward with the other wolves as they ran past the fallen guardian stalker down the western road.
He was drenched in sweat but felt only cold. He saw the broken buildings they passed but did not truly notice them. In his mind he was still in the canal, still watching his brothers die a brutal death, helpless to do anything but stand as witness.
~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~
By the end of the day, Link estimated that they had made it more than halfway to their destination. They took shelter for the night in what had once been a storehouse of some sort, holed up on the second floor with a watch posted downstairs and a longbowman on the roof. Once the matchlock fuses were all extinguished, the wolves settled down to try and get some rest, although tired as he was, Link doubted he would get any. Already he had lost ten of his forty wolves. Five archers, three gunmen, two shield-bearing warriors. But in thinking about just the numbers, about the specialties, he felt nauseous. Sure, a commander had to think about the numbers, and Link was technically a commander here, but… these were men, brothers in arms, not just a headcount. Two of them were men that he'd fought with for months. Zothun and Wulkrik – their bodies would go unburied unless the Zonai could take Uhlenom.
F'this's what more serious commanding looks like… I don't like th'way it makes me think.
Link was exhausted, his limbs leaden, his soul feeling like a bowstring pulled taught and kept strung until it wore thin and snapped. But every time he closed his eyes and sought rest he saw their deaths again – Zothun tumbling from the rooftops, a bolt through his chest. Wulkrik sundered limb from limb and still alive for a few more seconds, screaming out in utter anguish in crimson-stained waters. The others that had died alongside him. The men that had fallen to crossbows throughout the day.
And we didn't even get into position – barely halfway, he thought bitterly. What're th'odds that anyone else'll be able t'follow us out here? Will reinforcements even make it through at all?
He rubbed a shaking hand wearily over his face, letting his eyes fall closed for a moment as he let his head thunk against the warehouse wall at his back. F'they don't make it through… f'we're on our own… I don't think we can stay in th'city. We'll… have t'find a way out.
And though the thought of abandoning the battle sent a sour taste through his mouth, it was a fair price to pay compared to the deaths of his men.
His mind shut itself down from utter exhaustion some hours before the dawn, as his longbowmen changed watch for perhaps the third or fourth time.
And was woken by a hand urgently shaking his shoulder and one of his longbowmen hissing his name. Link rubbed the grit from his eyes and sat up, squinting in the dim grayness of the early dawn.
"Y'should wake everyone up," the archer said warily. "Then come up t'th'roof – there's something y'need t'see."
Link nodded, a finger of foreboding curling around his heart and squeezing hard. Swallowing, he checked to make sure his matchlock was loaded and ready to go, the fuse was relit, his ammunition was accessible. Then he went around and shook the rest of his men awake, going to each one and murmuring encouragement and an order to get ready to move out.
Then he climbed out of the window and hauled himself onto the rooftop to join the two longbowmen keeping watch. They pointed wordlessly to the north. Link walked to the edge of the roof, pulled off his helmet so that the lynel fangs didn't obscure his vision at all, and squinted across the city, feeling his pulse pounding with dread.
He could see in the distance a line of Sheikah soldiers marching down the road, occasionally splitting off from the main force, disappearing from sight for a minute or so, then reappearing and continuing their trek south.
"They're searching the buildings," he whispered, a finger of ice curling around his heart.
The archer at his side nodded. "That's what we figured, too," he said grimly. "Eothin managed t'sneak a few blocks further north about an hour ago, and… it's bad. There's a massive force gathering – t'least a thousand, with stalkers and scouts t'boot. They're sending skirmishers forward, groups f'about a hundred from what we've gathered, t'clear us out f'th'buildings."
Link felt a great heaviness settling on his chest and exhaled deeply, running a hand through his hair. "No sign f'reinforcements?" he asked quietly.
The archer grimaced and shook his head. "I went s'far south s'I dared," he said solemnly. "Nothing but a few pockets f'Sheikah holed up on rooftops or patrolling th'streets."
Link sagged to his knees, the base of his gun bumping against the soles of his boots. That was th'plan – get into position, hold until reinforcements come, keep th'Sheikah in th'city cut off, wait for th'army t'kill them all.
We fought all day yesterday and didn't even get t'our position. And there's no Zonai in sight behind us – we're on our own. His stomach clenched bitterly. On our own with ten f'our brothers fallen behind us, a battalion f'Sheikah coming our way, and those lerkin crossbowmen behind us. F'we try t'press forward, or even f'we try t'retreat, we're dead.
He grabbed the map of Uhlenom from his belt. They… they weren't actually far from the Uhlweard River, which ran along the western edge of the city. F'we can escape Uhlenom… get across th'river, out from behind enemy lines… that's our only chance.
He got to his feet, brushing his hands absently against the bottom of his gambeson, his decision made. "We'll make for th'western edge f'th'city and try t'cross th'river," he said grimly. Th'mission's failed. All that matters now is getting out without any more losses.
He and the archers on the roof returned to the main room of the warehouse where the rest of the platoon was now fully awake and performing last checks on their gear. Link made sure each of the sixteen gunmen other than himself had a charge loaded and ready to go. No point in conserving ammunition now – f'we need t'use firepower, we'll do so.
They set out at once, taking a western road through the city. The morning was fairly still and quiet as the sun slowly spread its light down from the horizon. Link and his wolves made little noise other than the padding of lynel-hide boots on the stony ground; they could hear the shouted commands of Sheikah officers from the north, steadily unsettlingly easier to discern.
Without Wulkrik to scout ahead, Link had one of the archers peering around street corners or climbing up to a rooftop to assess the Sheikah position before they advanced. A confrontation was inevitable – at each intersection, the Sheikah skirmishers could be seen marching steadfastly south, and it was up to Link to decide whether they should risk sprinting across the intersection or remaining in place until the skirmishers had temporarily left the main road to scour the nearby buildings.
Every moment of hesitation, every incorrect decision to wait, only lessened the distance between them. Link felt tension building between his shoulder blades at each crossroads, with each decision resting on his back. And the Sheikah only sounded closer and closer.
"We'll turn south at th'next road," he announced as quietly as he could as they waited in the shelter of a mound of broken stone for the scout to return. "Keep th'path for as long s'we can manage. Then head west again."
The scout dropped back to the ground, grimacing. "S'not good – they're coming our way," he announced. "We'll be spotted th'instant we come out f'hiding."
Link released a heavy breath, rubbing the back of his neck. "Then we'll prepare t'run," he said, pacing back and forth in the road. "Take th'second western branch. I'll need all gunmen in th'back, archers in th'middle. Be ready t'stop, about face, and fire when I give th'command."
The men nodded uncertainly. Link could almost sense their thoughts – There's no way we could actually fight off a group f'Sheikah this size.
He swallowed thickly before joining the other gunmen at the back of the line and signaling for the others to start moving forward. As soon as they stepped out into the open, as Link feared, there was a sudden stream of shouting in the Sheikah language. "Run!" he barked, urging the men around him forward down the southern road. "Remember – second road leading west!"
His feet slammed against the road, in time with his breaths, coming in quick bursts. He slid his gun forward from his shoulder, holding it against his chest as he ran. His back felt painfully exposed; he could hear the Sheikah running in pursuit, still a good distance away but too close for comfort.
The Zonai platoon veered right, down the westward road. It was fairly wide, for which Link was grateful – that would be beneficial for the plan forming in his mind.
The first of the Sheikah soldiers reached their road. Link glanced over his shoulder, judging how many there were, how quickly they were gathering. Almost!
"Now!" Link shouted. "Give 'em lead!"
He joined the second line of men, standing behind the front line which was kneeling. They were able to stand six abreast, so with seventeen guns total there were five that wouldn't be part of this first volley.
The Sheikah were beginning to slow, uncertainty stewing within their ranks – there were perhaps fifty of them coming down the road by now, and they had not expected the Zonai to suddenly turn and face them. Link pulled the trigger. Iron muzzles spewing sulfuric smoke and sparks sent the sound of gunshots thundering down the road, and the Sheikah line crumbled. Some men collapsed, dying in seconds. Others lay in their death throes, quickly bleeding out on the ground – the exit wounds from musket charges were devastating. The Sheikah were in complete disarray, many of them turning and fleeing, crawling through the gunsmoke over the bodies of their fallen comrades, screaming in terror.
"Reload!" Link ordered. "Archers forward!"
And he handed his gun over his shoulder, trading it with Gotvin standing behind him, who had not fired his gun. The other four gunmen that hadn't shot passed their guns forward, trading them for empty guns to start reloading. Second volley flew, a mixture of arrows and musket rounds. More Sheikah fell, crying out in pain and terror, and that was enough to send the soldiers that remained turning tail and running back the way they came.
Link beckoned his archers forward and jogged to the end of the road, stepping over the bodies of freshly slain Sheikah to watch the retreat. He grinned, a euphoric sense of victory welling in his chest as he watched their enemies running back down the road, passing their commander even as the man shouted angrily at them, pointing emphatically at the Zonai. Link nodded to one of his archers, who drew back the arrow already nocked to his string, took a moment to aim, and sent an arrow through the commander's neck.
Confident that they had bought themselves a good chunk of time to escape, Link and the scouts with him jogged back to the rest of the platoon. The Sheikah deaths from that single engagement was incredible – Groose's invention, yet again, proving its merit. "We can do this," he said encouragingly to the men around him, feeling the vise of despair around his heart ease somewhat. "We will get out f'this!"
They took a moment to reload all of the muskets, ready for another engagement. Then they continued along the western road, Link urging them onward at a faster pace than before. The sound of so many gunshots, although successful in routing the Sheikah skirmishers that had chased them, would undoubtedly lead to a larger force converging on the area. So we need t'get out f'here just as fast s'we can.
Within the hour the road widened, the distance between buildings increased, and there were more and more small parcels of land that had once been used for agriculture. The sight of it all burned to the ground sent fury spitting through Link's veins, but he pushed it aside, focusing on the more scattered buildings and the oncoming wall around the city. Irrigation canals were really the only cover in this part of the city, and though his instincts screamed at the idea of getting down into a canal after what happened to Wulkrik, he ordered it anyway, recognizing that with only five archers remaining in his platoon, his ability to deal with Sheikah crossbowmen was now dangerously low. And it would be only too easy for them to be spotted, walking over flat ground with no cover. So into th'canals it is.
Every so often there were bridges crossing over the canal they sheltered in. Link's scouts reported back the position of Sheikah moving through the farmlands, and he tried to maneuver his men such that when the Sheikah drew near, they were close enough to a bridge to hide beneath it, standing stock still, pressed up against each other and making not a sound as soldiers and guardians crossed above them. Link felt a surge of pride and comradery, realizing that these wolves had been saboteurs, infiltrators, and night raiders, just as he and his little team had been. And then the comradery was replaced by grief and no little guilt, thinking about the brothers he'd lost.
I was th'one t'order Zothun onto th'rooftops. And when Wulkrik died… I just stood there, doing nothing. I should've done something! Anything!
They continued southwest through the canal, steadily and stealthily drawing nearer to the wall around Uhlenom. Though not particularly tall, it was nonetheless quite sturdy, with some segments made of stone and others of wood. The portion of wall intercepting the canal, Link observed as they came to the last bridge and took cover beneath it, was made of stone with an iron grate at the base to allow water to pass through.
From the bridge he could see that there were Sheikah patrolling around the perimeter of the wall, seemingly separate from the larger groups now flooding the city, but nonetheless a problem. We'll have t'engage. And th'instant we come out f'th'canal, we'll be spotted by any Sheikah in th'area. We could easily get surrounded.
Eight of his men carried shields. Link ordered them to flank the main force, four on each side, when they topped over the edge of the canal. The back and front would be exposed, but he would have his remaining longbowmen in the back to shoot any Sheikah coming up from behind while the front would charge the nearest ladder up to the top of the wall and kill any Sheikah in their way. There was a ladder positioned of to the side of each canal where it drained through the wall to double as a rescue in case someone fell in who couldn't get back out – there was no telling how far the Sheikah would have to go for the next ladder if Link and his men could take this one.
They climbed over the edge of the canal, and at once there were shouts of alarm as they were noticed by soldiers along the wall. Link called orders to his men and they assembled into formation and began their advance. Crossbow bolts thunked into shields on both sides; small groups of Sheikah soldiers joined together and advanced on their position with tachi and naginata at the ready. Link heard the soft release of bowstrings from behind and the cries from Sheikah soldiers that followed as Zonai arrows met their mark.
Link drew his sword as the enemies ahead of them entered melee range and launched into battle, teeth bared in a feral, furious snarl. He deflected a naginata spear to the ground and pinned it in place with his boot while thrusting his blade into the chest of its owner. Then as he was pulling his weapon free another naginata plummeted towards him, and he managed to deflect it from his heart enough that it struck just beneath his left collarbone, plunging deep and scraping bone. Link howled and stumbled forward as the Sheikah yanked his weapon out, fire erupting from the wound; his vision clouded for a moment as he saw Gotvin coming to his aid, rushing up close to the Sheikah, grabbing his spear, and running him through. And that was all the time Link had to gather himself before another Sheikah was rushing him, wielding a tachi sword this time. Guided mostly by instinct he blocked the soldier's attack well enough to deal a debilitating blow –
And then they were in the clear, right next to the ladder, a line of wounded or dying Sheikah in their wake. "Up!" Link ordered, resisting the urge to clutch at his shoulder. "Quickly!"
He waited for his men to scramble up the ladder to the top of the wall before following suit. A crossbow bolt clattered against the stone beneath his foot. His left arm screamed in pain with each movement as he clawed his way onward. Once at the top they worked together to pull the ladder up with them and let it down the other side. Driven by haste and anxiety they scurried down, so agonizingly close to freedom and escape.
Crossbow bolts from Sheikah converging on their location whistled overhead or clattered against the stone around them; Link watched in anguish as one struck an archer standing beside him, even as he was drawing back an arrow to return fire. The man tumbled from the wall, a bolt buried deep in his chest, and landed hard on his back with a nauseating crunch. Link rubbed angrily at his face, eyes burning, and followed his men down the ladder, flinching as a crossbow bolt missed his face by inches.
And then his boots touched grass on the other side. He stumbled from the ladder and slumped against the stone wall, breathing hard, sheathing his sword at last and clutching futilely at his shoulder, soaked in blood. Wearily he regarded the men around him and smiled grimly. "We made it," he panted, his smile twisting into a grimace. "We… we made it out."
