Marghaz was shaken awake just before dawn. He had not slept well, demons of his dreams tore the flesh from his skin whilst he screamed in pain, roasting it over the fire with wild cackles of laughter. Marghaz and his legion had roofs over their heads, due to the citizens giving up their comforts for the comforts of those who would be defending them, for which they were all thankful, the battle today would last for many hours, and a good proper rest before hand could mean the difference between victory and defeat. He wondered absently, as he swung himself off the bed he had taken for his own, whether or not the brindleds had nightmares, or any trouble sleeping at all, but then concluded that those who gorged themselves on human flesh probably had very little to disturb their slumbers.
His men were silent as they pulled on their armour and strapped their swords to their hips; they were silent still when they gathered up their spears and shields, and not one sound slipped from between their lips when moved towards the main gate, the sky a dark blue in the pre-dawn, and the street lit by candles and lamps. Lining the streets were many legionnaires and citizens of the colony, women and children watching their defenders march out to face the foe. From the looks on their faces, Marghaz deduced that they were not expected to return. As he and his bodyguard rode past on their horses, one woman broke free and held up a small blue flower to one of his guards, who took it without question, slipping it into his belt. Finally, as the tramping of the boots began to form a rhythm, Marghaz's legion arrived at the gate in full force. The Consul approached him on foot, his own guards behind him, as Marghaz's archers pressed on, scaling the walls and stringing their bows.
"Are your men ready?" He asked, in a hushed voice.
"As ready as they ever will be," Marghaz replied simply.
The Consul nodded and patted Marghaz's horse, which shied away from him until Marghaz rubbed it's neck, shushing him. "Then may the Harpy go with you," he said, and he and his men moved out of the way and gave a signal to the gate house.
With the creaking of iron hinges and the rattle of a dozen chains, the heavy gate of the colony opened and Marghaz led his legion through it as the sun began to crest the horizon.
With the pounding of five thousand feet, Marghaz's legion filed out of the city. If they had fear, they did not show it, for the serjeants led the men into their formation just as Marghaz had instructed them to. He looked up to the wall and saw that his archers, and those of the other legions were standing at the battlements, their bows at the ready. As Marghaz and his bodyguard came to a halt, the legionnaires still poured out alongside him. The pikemen came first, one thousand men with a small round shield attached to the left shoulder, so that when then leant forwards with their left side in front, they had protection, and a twenty foot pike that needed was weighted at the back but still required two hands to use. The pike itself was so long that the pikemen did not need a bigger shield to defend themselves against a swing or thrust of the enemy, no one could get close enough to do it, only missiles were the problem, and Marghaz knew from experience the main "missile" of the brindled barbarians were thrown stones.
After the pikemen had lined up in their central square, twenty deep and fifty wide, the main force of the legion, the spearmen came out. They formed their spikes on either side of the pikemen, interlocking their large, full body shields so as to protect each other. The front two ranks held their thick thrusting spears in their hands whilst those behind gripped their javelins, ready to be thrown at the enemy and disrupt their charge. If the enemy bore shields than the Javelins could also force the enemy to drop them, but few brindled men did, Marghaz suspected they didn't have the wits to conceive of the idea of protecting themselves. The spearmen formed their large spiked block which went all the way back to the wall, preventing the enemy from encircling them.
Finally, filling out the centre of the formation, gathered around him and his bodyguard, the swordsmen of the legion took up their position, their thick round shields held tightly and falcatas in their hands. With the absence of the critical cavalry, these men would be his armoured fist; they would punch through a weakened enemy position or they would chase down the enemy when they broke, thought Marghaz suspected that, in their armour, they wouldn't be able to catch the enemy.
Then, as the gate closed behind them, Marghaz saw them. Out of the trees came a vast horde of the enemy, with skin brindled like hounds, large jutting jaws and square teeth, they seemed to be more ape than man, they were certainly not worth any greater treatment than the former. In their hands, very few had weapons of iron or steel, favouring heavy bones and blunt wood, though in their heavily corded and muscled arms, these were just as deadly, able to smash open skulls and ribs to reach the softer flesh beneath, the delicacies of their kind.
They seemed confused by the arrival of the legion, almost comically some of them looked at each other. "Hold your ground," Marghaz called out, and he saw his heavy legionnaires brace themselves to hold the line against the soon to be oncoming charge.
It was signalled by a roar that built up from somewhere within the forest, spreading, like the cheers of the crowds in the fighting pits, until it reached an inhuman crescendo and, baying like hounds at the slips, the brindleds charged the legion.
"Javelins!" Marghaz roared and the third row and back of the heavy spearmen readied their first javelins. His horse, and those of his bodyguard were distressed by the sounds that came from the brindleds and they had to fight to keep them in position. When the brindleds got closer, he heard a whistle from above and, looking up, he saw hundreds of arrow shafts flying overhead, landing amidst the oncoming storm of meat. "Throw!" The first Javelins span through the air, planting themselves in the enemy. Normally there would be time for another volley, but these brindleds, for all they lacked in wits, they made up for in strength of muscle, and they were closing too fast. "Brace!" He roared and his men planted their shields, put their strength and weight behind them, and held their spears ready to thrust.
The enemy charge had been disrupted by the arrows ad javelins and so, instead of being like one sledgehammer, like a thousand little hammers the brindleds smashed into the iron legion. They charged with such speed that some pikes were suddenly spearing three of them at once, and he could see his spearmen struggling to hold back this tide, as the enemy behind pressed into those in front. This was where his spikes came into effect, for those on the inside of his spikes were being pricked from both sides by spear and sword, being swiftly cut down only to be replaced by another, and then another, the endless tide of barbarians still pressing forwards. Some of those in the rear of the barbarians tried to climb on the shoulders of those in front in order to hit over the top of the large shields. Marghaz saw one jump high, a heavy club raised in his hand, but he was met halfway by a javelin which dropped him to the ground. The din was unbelievable, the slamming of clubs on shields and squelching of steel piercing tough skin. Screams of defiance, fury and pain rent the air whilst barbaric roars, only understandable to those roaring them, rose from the tide of the enemy.
Then the horde of baying beastmen threw rocks into the air over the shields and onto the heads of his spearmen, whilst his pikemen thrust their pikes, slaughtering any who got too close to the tips, the barbarians who had charged onto them at the beginning swaying like beads on a string. Marghaz turned to his trumpeteers. "Tortoise, now." They raised their trumpets to their lips and blared out the sound for the forming of the tortoise. He did not hear his serjeants or centurions give the calls, but the legionnaires answered them, from the second row back they folded their shields over their heads, interlocking them to create and impenetrable surface, which the rock harmlessly bounced off. Whilst this solved the problem of the rocks, it only created another one. The barbarians, seeing the futility in simply hacking at the shields, began scrambling onto the top of the surface of the created walkway and began charging down towards the swordsmen, standing almost impatiently behind them. Marghaz grabbed Yezzan. "This is where the men see me fight alongside them," Marghaz said and, unclasping his cloak he dismounted, his loyal bodyguards alongside him. He raced forward, his banner carrier with him. The swordsmen roared out a warcry as Marghaz raced towards the shields. "Leg up!" He cried and the back row of legionnaires lowered their shields to be like a step, which Marghaz gladly led the way up. He unstrapped his shield and clasped it tightly to his arm, his steel hand preventing it from simply sliding off, and the tightness of the strap, preventing it from flailing about aimlessly. "For Ghis!" He roared and the swordsmen joined him, charging across the shields towards the barbarians approaching them from the other side. The first brute he fought was about six and a half feet of muscle and sinew, but had no finesse. Marghaz simply ducked under his heavy club swing and carved a deep cut into his chest, splintering ribs and carving up lungs. Marghaz absently pitied the men who had to hold up the shields as a battle raged on top of them, but they were trained for this, when training in this formation, chariots were ridden over the interlocked shields, to test their strength.
He carved the next foe who came at him, from left shoulder to right hip, letting the guts wriggle out like eels and flop on the shields. His men charged forward, cutting at the enemy with all their strength and skill; they were not as smooth or elegant as the Braavosi were known to be, butcompared to the brindleds, they had the elegance of ice dancers. Two more came at him, rotting teeth filling oversized mouth. Marghaz made the first feast on his shield, teeth clattering onto the shields whilst he blocked a strike from a heavy bone club and swiftly despatched both foes. Soon his swordsmen would be at the front, having fully forced the enemy back from clambering over the shields of his men. But this was getting harder and harder, and, if it continued much longer, his men would be overwhelmed by enemies. It was harder because so many dozens had died in the teeth of his legion that they were becoming stepping stones for the rest of the barbarians to climb over.
As his men began to cheer, unaware of the soon to be too great danger, a massive roar went up over the hordes and his men fell silent. Marghaz had not heard such roars before, but who knew what beasts lurked in the darkest places of that jungle.
It did not seem to affect the horde of the enemy, who kept on coming, but Marghaz did note one thing in their favour, and it was enough to invigorate him: The stream of enemies pouring from the untamed jungles was slowing, fewer warriors were replacing the fallen barbarians who broke upon the rock of his legion.
If this was to continue, in but a few hours the enemy would be defeated and victory would be his.
Or it would be, if the horde hadn't harnessed the power of the Sothoryi'i jungles.
With a huge roar of unison, the enemy brought their secret weapons out of the trees. Huge apes, at least two dozen of them broke from the treeline, leaves and twigs flying into the air. At least twelve feet tall, with iron balls around their fists and chains around their necks, they were being pulled in the direction the brindleds wanted them to go.
Even as fear gripped his heart, he could not help but applaud the enemy. Not so much for capturing and controlling these beasts, but for the fact that they had concealed them. He would have thought that they would have unleashed the beasts at the beginning, like an amateur commander, a child playing at war. Instead, they had held them back, and now that the horde was failing, they would try the lance. As strong as the tortoise was, those iron clad fists could smash the heavy wood shields of his legion and even the gate of the city.
With another roar, the beasts tore forward, and many of his men had already launched their javelins. "Back! He yelled, his men had to be able to see, which meant the swordsmen had to get off their shields. His men ran back along the shields and leapt off the back, reforming and turning to face the new threat. Already his serjeants were ordering that their shield be lowered to normal again as the huge hairy apes, with the same jutting jaws of the brindled men, were smashing aside any brindleds in their path to smash into the legion.
Marghaz"s mind raced, how could he counter the apes, most of whom were charging at him, but several were about to smash against the stone walls, he didn't need to worry about them. A few wooden shafts flew into the hard flesh of the apes, but it did not have any effect, they kept on coming, unrelenting as elephants.
Elephants!
It came to him. "Split! He roared to his centurions and serjeants. "Like Elephants! Let them pass between you and cut them down!" His men began shuffling into paths that the apes could get down. But they were not the lockstep legions of old, nor the Unsullied of the recently destroyed Astapor, they were the citizen soldiery of New Ghis, and they knew fear. They struggled, and thin lines were made, but they were mere cracks in a wall, and the apes smashed right through. Men in armour were trampled under their huge feet, or torn apart by the monsters.
"Surround them!" He roared and his serjeants, ever faithful, and having regained a little of their courage, rallied the legionnaires, making them surround some of the apes, but still more smashed into his army, four of them were smashing their iron fists against the stone wall, their brute strength tearing great chunks out of the masonry. Marghaz pulled himself up onto his horse, he had to blunt the onslaught of these giant apes and regain the initiative of his legion. He charged at the nearest one, his loyal bodyguard following him closely. He ducked under the heavy punch of the beast and carved into it's hip, which still required him to strike high, even from his horse. But the ape had hard flesh, and Marghaz moved too fast, his sword leaving his hand and remaining wedged in the flesh of the beast. But as his bodyguard split and rode either side of the beast, nicking it with light blows of their own, it began to rage and spin, fists flailing in all directions, sending men flying when they connected.
Looking around, Marghaz seized the spear of the nearest legionnaire and charged the ape again. He couched the spear under his arm, allowing the full weight of his body to drive the spear into the belly of the beast. It roared out in agony once and spun around, iron fists flailing. "Charge!" He roared, indicating for his men to do so, and the legionnaire's obeyed him, charging from all directions, spears thrusting and swords cutting until the ape lay dead in the dirt.
That was the inspiration that was needed, the apes that were smashing his legionnaires were surrounded and cut down bit by bit, cut by cut, until they joined the first of them. A thin line of legionnaires, three men deep, was forming a shield wall against the few brindleds who were continuing to attack them, but most of the horde had broken and fled into the forest, leaving a field of fallen barbarians in their wake, for those at the back had killed those in front of them to get away faster.
"To the wall!" Marghaz ordered, his horse rearing, getting him the attention. Three apes were still smashing masonry from the wall, they were nearly through, and if they made it, then the next time the horde attacked the city, they would get inside and massacre everyone.
He put his spurs to his horse and charged the ape, his bodyguard behind him and his legionnaires behind them. He seized a javelin from a passing legionnaire and hurled it at the nearest ape, piercing the thick sinews of the beast's leg. It roared in agony and spun, iron fists flailing, causing Marghaz's horse to rear on it's hind legs and, despite trying to grab at the horse's neck with his flesh hand, he was thrown over the back of the horse and sprawled in the dirt.
He coughed in the dust, trying to rub it from his eyes as he staggered to his feet. He heard heavy footfalls as his legionnaires charged, roars of pain and death from the last apes, and an ominous cracking sound. He looked up, blinking through tears in his eyes to see hard stone begin to lean as the wall, straining from the ruthless pounding it had received, fell down on top of them all.