To the south, the city's Main Gate fell to a concerted barrage of catapult fire. A legion of Betaklites swept into Jelarkan Concourse. A well-aimed ball of burning pitch struck the Capanthall West Barracks — the building rose in a conflagration that lit the entire city a lurid red.
Shock troops of Urdomen and Seerdomin breached North Gate and entered the nearest Daru streets after destroying Nildar Camp and slaying everyone within it. The enemy was within the city on every side.
The battle, Itkovian concluded, was not going well.
With each report that a messenger delivered, the Shield Anvil issued commands in a soft, calm voice. 'Fourth Wing to the Ninth Barricade, between East Inside and Ne'ror towers. Resupply the Capanthall in the two towers … Seventh Wing to West Inside tower and wall. I need a report on the status of Jehbar Tower. There were five hundred Capanthall in the West Barracks — likely they've been routed … Fifth and Third Manes into the streets around Tular Concourse to rally the Capanthall… First, Seventh and Sixth Manes doubletime to North Temple District — block and strike until North Gate is retaken … Fourth, Second and Eighth Manes to New East Market. Once the East Gate is recovered, I want Wings One, Three and Five to sortie. Their rally point is the East Watch redoubt — I want the siege engines assailing it neutralized, then any Gidrath survivors retrieved. Have the Trimaster report to me …'
In between commands and the coming and going of messengers, Itkovian watched the engagement at New East Market — what he could see of it in the glare of fires through seething clouds of smoke. The Scalandi were pushing hard to break the barricades preventing them from reaching the prince's palace. Boulders had been hammering the palace's outer walls incessantly, all to no effect — the thin, glistening stone walls did not so much as tremble. Burning pitch roared itself to extinction yet achieved nothing more than black stains marring the unknown stone's surface. The palace would have to be taken the hard way, step by step, every room, every level, and the Pannions were eager to begin the task.
The Grey Sword Trimaster commanding the First, Third and Fifth Wings arrived on the parapet. He was one of the Shield Anvil's oldest officers, lean and tall, grey-bearded to hide countless scars. 'My assignment has been conveyed to me, Shield Anvil.'
So why have I sent for you? I see the question in your eyes, sir. You do not require any stirring words to cleave you to what could be a suicidal mission. 'It will be unexpected,' Itkovian said.
The man's eyes narrowed, then he nodded. 'Aye, sir, it will. With all the breaches the enemy's front lines have lost their cohesion. Chaos claims all, this night. We shall destroy the siege engines as ordered. We shall retrieve the survivors in the redoubt.'
Aye, old friend. I am the one who needs stirring words. 'Keep your eyes open, sir. I would know the positioning of the Pannion forces to the rear. Specifically, the Tenescowri.'
'Understood, sir.'
A messenger arrived, stumbling as he cleared the ladder. 'Shield Anvil!' she gasped.
'Your report, sir,' Itkovian said.
'From the Trimaster of the First, Seventh and Sixth Manes, sir.'
North Gate. He looked to the north. Most of the Daru tenements there were burning. 'Proceed.'
'The Trimaster reports that he has encountered the shocktroops of Urdomen and Seerdomin, They're all dead, sir.'
'Dead?'
The young woman nodded, paused to wipe ash-smeared sweat from her brow. Her helm, Itkovian noted, was too large. 'A citizen rallied the remnants of the Capanthall Guard, as well as other civilians and some caravan guards. Sir, they engaged the Urdomen and Seerdomin in a succession of street battles — and drove them back. The Trimaster now controls North Gate, to which his company of sappers are effecting repairs.'
'And this impromptu militia and its commander?'
'Only a few wounded were there to greet the Trimaster, sir. The, uh, militia has set off westward, in pursuit of an Urdomen company that sought to storm Lektar House.'
'Messenger, send the First Wing to their aid. Upon delivering my command, take some rest, sir.'
'Yes, Shield Anvil.'
'That is not the helmet you were issued with, is it, sir?'
Abashed, she shook her head. 'I, uh, lost it, Shield Anvil.'
'Have the quartermaster find you one that fits.'
'Yes, sir.'
'Go.'
The two veterans watched the young woman depart.
'Careless,' the Trimaster murmured, 'losing her helm.'
'Indeed.'