The drums echoed without cease.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
The sound came from the direction of Tharn Forest. Muffled by the fog, the dull thuds struck one after another, reverberating up to the battlements.
Banda rested his hand on the merlon, gazing toward the woods. All he could see was the hazy white shroud, but the heavy drumming seeped into his ears, seeming to draw ever closer. The air atop the wall was still, yet that low, insistent rumble gnawed at his nerves, tightening like a vise around his heart.
Once more, a distant boom echoed—thud.
Without realizing it, Banda gripped harder. Somewhere beyond the fog, something was moving toward the walls.
Boom. Boom-boom. Boom-boom-boom-boom.
The rhythm quickened.
And then another sound joined in.
Clank. Clank.
From within the mist came the scrape of metal. Hundreds of iron pieces grinding against each other.
The clash of armor. Shields being thumped by handles. Weapons scraping together. A mass of those noises advanced toward Damu's walls.
Creak. Screech. Screech-creak.
A grating noise assaulted the ears.
Something massive dragged along, rumbling forward. The wheels wobbled unevenly, halting once with a jolt before lurching on. The broken sounds soon resumed, rough and unrelenting.
No one on the battlements spoke.
It was Gardon who spotted it first.
The surface of the western fog rippled.
The layers of white mist undulated. Between Damu's walls and Tharn Forest, patches of the settled fog wavered like water, and from above, shapes began to emerge.
Black outlines.
At first, just a single straight line. A shadow rising vertically through the mist.
Soon, it was clear there was more than one. To the left and right, other shadows appeared. One, two, three. Black pillars slowly poked their heads from beyond the fog.
A few Tita distant—quite far, even through the haze—their upper sections pierced the dense air.
Siege towers.
Siege towers rose above the sea of western fog.
Not one. Two, three, four. They parted the misty veil, black forms revealing themselves one by one. Slowly advancing toward Damu's walls.
From the first to the last, none were properly finished. True to the handiwork of orcs and minotaurs, they were crude and warped. One tilted to the side, leaning precariously; another had its top bent the wrong way, swaying unsteadily. The frames were jagged, the vertical beams mismatched in height, lashed together awkwardly.
The siege towers were built from trees hastily felled in the forest. Bark still clung to the logs, bound with thick ropes. The cords were wrapped in multiple layers, their coarse fibers digging into the bark. Knots tangled haphazardly but held tight.
Planks had been nailed on, yet they varied in thickness and width. Thin boards sat beside thick ones, short timbers overlapped longer ones. Woods of different sizes piled randomly, fixed with twisted, rusted brackets hammered in.
Heavy hides draped one side of the towers. Animal skins, edges ragged, dried stains blotching them like scars.
Iron plates were patched here and there. Rusted sheets, edges bent and torn as if ripped from somewhere else. All shapes mismatched.
Banners topped the siege towers.
Crude flags—torn cloth tied to poles. Some black with red symbols scrawled on; others adorned with woven bone ornaments. They fluttered irregularly in the wind above the fog.
The Badlands invaders' siege towers rolled toward Damu's walls.
Creak. Screech-creak. Creak.
The wheel noises grew louder. The towers pushed through the mist, closing on the walls. Now the midsections came into sharper view. Window-like slits appeared. Something stirred inside. Orcs. Armored orc heads bobbed in and out of the openings.
And the cries rang out.
"Okka!!"
The shout echoed.
Not alone. From the forest beyond the walls, countless voices layered on. Orc roars spread through the mist.
"Okka!! Okka!! Okka!!"
Drums and war cries intertwined.
Boom. "Okka!!"
Boom-boom. "Okka!!"
Each drumbeat was answered by the orcs' resounding bellows.
Hundreds of shields were pounded, overlapping the drums. Metal edges struck shield rims, axe heads thudded dully against them. Thick boards boomed low when hit square; glancing blows added sharp, fleeting rings.
At first scattered, the strikes gradually synced. The jagged noises locked into one rhythm. Shield and weapon clashes thickened, merging with the drums.
"Damn those orcs!"
Banda ground his teeth, his jaw bulging, muscles knotting beneath his cheekbones. He leaned forward between the merlons, glaring at the orcs cleaving through the fog. His hand scratched unconsciously at the stone.
Below his gaze, writhing shapes grew clearer. Banda narrowed his eyes.
That was when something else appeared beneath the fog's surface.
Parallel to the towers, another outline rose above the misty sea. Much lower than the advancing siege engines, but no less massive in scale.
It might have looked like a huge bridge laid across the fog—a thick wooden canopy.
A flat wooden roof emerged above the mist. Logs joined into a broad top plate. Stacked in layers to deflect arrows and fire, its thickness was plain to see. Hides overlaid it. The plate stretched wide left and right. Fog completely obscured the base, hiding any wheels.
But protruding long and thick from the front was a massive log.
A structure built to breach gates. When walls proved too high, it smashed doors directly. Weighted to ram with full force.
A battering ram.
The head alone was wide enough for two Dawi to stand abreast. Iron-sheathed, cast in the shape of a bull's skull, its surface pitted and cracked from rough forging. Pour marks and crude grinding scars remained untouched.
Suspended from the thick beam, that enormous ram jutted far from the canopy's front. It seemed to float above the fog. Swaying slowly, aimed straight at Damu's gates.
Banda turned his head toward Gardon.
Gardon was already eyeing the eastern watchtower on the wall.
"Aim the ballistae."
Gardon's voice carried across the battlements.
At the junction of Damu's western and southern walls stood a tower, stones stacked one level higher than the ramparts. Climb it, and a broad stone floor spread out—not cramped for a few Dawi, but spacious enough for several ballistae.
To target the siege towers, the ballistae had been repositioned along the tower's edge.
Stout wooden frames squatted low on the stone, one facing dead ahead, another angled slightly to the side. Their fields of fire spread apart to avoid overlap.
Behind each, winches and pulleys hung, bowstrings drawn taut and locked. The arms bowed under tension, steel-tipped bolts already nocked in the grooves.
Dawi soldiers crouched low, adjusting angles. One checked level, another fine-tuned the cradle. Boot soles scraped stone; the wood hummed faintly with strained energy.
Below their sights, the siege towers crept steadily toward the walls.
A Dawi soldier raised his hand.
His thick, furred arm lifted slowly. Body pressed to the ballista, he kept his eyes fixed. The device's vibration traveled up his arm. The tower rising above the fog aligned in his view.
He gripped a short iron lever and yanked.
Twang!
The catch sprang free, the twisted bowstring snapped back. The bowed arms whipped straight, shock hammering the whole frame. Even the tower's stone floor shuddered from the recoil.
The iron-wrapped bolt hurtled forward, slicing air and fog toward the siege tower.
Crunch!
The bolt pierced the tower. Wood splintered and burst where iron embedded; the top plate sagged inward. The hide covering tore, dangling loose; log joints creaked and shifted. Cracks spread from the impact, refusing to stop.
In that instant, the tower's weight tipped off balance, listing sideways.
Yet it didn't halt. The bolt had skewered one pillar but missed the main. The beam split, and an orc inside screamed as it plummeted. Still, the tower rolled on toward the walls.
From the massive stone tower, a second ballista bolt launched.
Boom!
It punched through the same tower's upper section. The impact snapped the flagpole at the top; the banner tumbled into the fog below.
Third. Fourth.
Bolt after bolt flew. Every shot converged on that single tower.
The third skewered the left main pillar. Deep in the thick wood, cracks fanned out; the beam buckled inward under pressure.
Then the fourth struck precisely in that splintered spot.
The straining timber could endure no more.
Crash—!
The siege tower's pillar buckled and snapped.
The upper half lurched sharply sideways. Planks and crossbeams ripped free in sequence; nails and brackets screeched as they popped loose. Orc screams erupted from within.
The structure cascaded into collapse. One level caved, dragging the next down.
The siege tower toppled.
The colossal frame tilted over and plunged into the fog.
—Boom-crash!
The impact shoved mist outward in all directions, then it slowly closed back in. Where the tower had been, only swirling fog remained.
A brief cheer erupted from the walls.
But Gardon didn't turn. The remaining towers pressed on. The second, the third—they kept advancing toward Damu's walls.
"Okka~~~~~Ulla!! Okka-Ulla!!"
The orc cries swelled louder. Seeing one tower fall only quickened their pace. The drums accelerated again.
That was when it happened.
A deep, air-displacing thrum spread from beneath the fog.
Whoosh—!
Black shadows burst upward all at once, trailing thin wisps of mist.
Catapult fire.
Stones arced at varied heights and speeds. No pattern, no order. Soldiers on the walls ducked instinctively.
"Take cover!"
Banda's shout barely finished before the first impact hit.
Boom!
One stone slammed the crenelation's base. The wall absorbed the blow; the projectile shattered on the spot.
Another followed.
Boom-crash—!
This one grazed the wall's protruding upper structure. It slid off without embedding, veering wildly down the wall. The massive rock tumbled askew toward the moat.
Short gasps escaped the soldiers.
The third stone struck the overhanging upper wall at an angle.
Bang—!!
It exploded into fragments, shards spraying downward.
Banda glanced briefly down the wall.
The base sat thick and squat; the top jutted forward.
Sarun-Ke Keuraber.
The voice of Mason of Laboreus echoed in his mind: "A wall must evolve to counter the enemy's assaults."
On the stone tower, the Dawi manning the ballistae stirred back into motion.