That’s a five thousand odd word battle done for Book Two of The Wefan Weaves Trilogy. My brain is officially knackered.
Alan – flung from London through portals and hyperspace into the world of Dumnon – lives through a siege that lasts three days. He now holds a crossbow and adds to the arrows and quarrels that sheet down from the parapets, dodges catapult thrown balls of fire that spatter the walls with green flames, cheers as forays of Manomish heavy and light cavalry charge from the castle to attack the Murecken besiegers. Ladders are raised and gates broken, mindless blodgemen boil up to the castle and die in their hundreds, monsters known as tadige and writhen kill and kill and eat the dead and dying. Blood and gore steam in the ice-laden air, bodies and their parts litter the frost-crusted ground, the stink of death clogs his nostrils and poisons his food. Ash and snow fall from the skies and everything is black and grey and red and hell.
On the final day, a vast creature that looks very like a prehistoric crocodile known as an orswyrm, is ridden by Reven – a Mid-priest of the Great God Murak – right up to the gates above which Alan stands. The priest’s blood-magik swallows all arrows and quarrels sent his way, fire and boiling oil are deflected, his orswyrm attacks the gates…
Do the Storratian arrive in time to counter-attack? Do the last defenders escape the keep through secret passageways or sally ports?
You will have to wait for the publication of The Fractured Portal to find out.
Meanwhile, read The Cracked Amulet if you have not already done so 🙂