The Union 267 Siege of Holm 1

"Smart" Hugh said, giving praise to the enemies. The Wismarines had the sense to not assault Holm directly. The ballistae loaded with Hellfire projectiles would sink half their vessels before they could even reach the shore. Instead the Wismarines chose a beach protected from Holm by a cliff.

Unfortunately for the enemies, General William had already considered all the beaches around Holm and set traps to slug their landing. Behind him stood a thousand men of the Snow legion all on horseback.

The horses were neighing impatiently for the eventual coming of the enemies. The men were anxious but steady. The frontmost Wismarine vessels were now about five hundred armspans from the shore.

Their hulls seemed to break the water. The oarsmen were simultaneous and trained. They were not amateurs. They had prepared for this.

"Prepare the pots" Hugh said. His order was repeated throughout the entire cohort.

Many Vanadians took the Hellfire pots from their satchels. It was the size of two fists combined and the weight was enough for it to be thrown a hundred paces away. The clay pots were filled with Hellfire and would be ignited though the oil-slick wicks.

At first Hugh thought it to be stupid. The wind would blow the flames from the wicks. Many of the pots didn't explode. Some even exploded in the throwers' hand.

Psychological warfare, General William once told him. The Hellfire pots were ineffective weapons but the shock that they would cause will be devastating for the enemies. Exploding things saps courage like how a mistress saps wealth.

"Here they come. Ready!"

The first Wismarine galley shoved the sand through its keel. Several more followed. The Wismarines disembarked, splashing and waddling in the water.

"Now!" Hugh shouted.

The sound of hundreds of crossbows releasing echoed in the air. Arrows flew in a trajectory and then down to the Wismarines. The arrows fell in the water. Unlucky Wismarines were stuck where their armor didn't protect. Hugh counted seven dead and eight hit by the arrows. It wasn't much but they did damage.

More galleys pushed through the sand. Hundreds of Wismarines were pouring into the shore. They presented shields after reaching solid ground. Their march was slow, step by step dictated by the officers. On their hands were steel-tipped spears pointing toward Hugh's cohort.

Hugh provided a single nod to two of his riders. The men galloped, their horses kicking sand. The riders rode to the Wismarines, curving at the last moment to throw their Hellfire pots on the sand. One of the pots exploded, splashing burning Hellfire around. The sand mixed with hellfire exploded upon contact with fire.

It shook the ground and created a warm gust. The sand burst into flames, burning more than a hundred Wismarines. The sand itself turned into water for a moment until merging with the flame. The cries were heinous. They were in pain and Hugh felt his skin crawl. Hellfire was such a terrible weapon. But then again, every weapon was terrible.

The fire did not last long. Where a single Wimsarine fell, two or three filled his spot. They doused the flame with sand. The enemies advanced again. There were at least a thousand of them now.
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Hugh raised his fist. In a moment a thousand Vanadian riders descended upon the enemies. They slowed and curved just in time and threw the hellfire pots. Half of the pots were duds. A couple exploded on the hands of some of his men, killing both rider and horse. But those which did explode dealt unnerving damage to the Wismarines. Limbs were scattered by the explosions. Blood wetted the sand. The screams of the dying was an eerie symphony.

And then arrows rained, not from their side but from the enemies'. It was time to go back to safety. They had sent their message. They had showed the Wismarines what awaited them during their assault on Holm.

Hugh's cohort retreated. The enemies did not and cannot give chase. It was a victory. They lost about a dozen men while the Wismarines lost hundreds. He gripped the reins of his horse. It was time for the real siege. It was time for...

An unfamiliar sound called from behind. It was long and loud. Hugh turned his head and his eyes shook in their sockets.

Monsters. He saw monsters taller than two men. They had large ears and two teeth were sticking out from their faces. On the center of their faces were long tubes that moved like arms. They were armored. Hugh felt dread.

***

Eastern Wall

Elephants. Wismarine armored elephants. William grimaced on top the wall. The Wismarines were insane enough to transport elephants. There were more than two dozens of such beasts. Around him many Vanadian shifted in their positions, apparently terrified by the elephants.

Most of them hadn't seen or even knew of elephants. Most were ignorant that animals double the height of a full grown man exist. To them the largest animals were the bisons and cows.

Psychological warfare, William thought. The elephants were the Wismarines' answer to the Hellfire pots. Those beasts were clumsy in a siege and would be killed by ballistae. But just being in the battlefield would scare the Vanadians enough.

It was terrible. The Wismarines were terrible. He was also terrible. This war was terrible. William balled his hand into a fist. He paced across the eastern wall, eyes not severing from the movement of the enemies. He eventually reached one of the ballistae. The three-men crew who were manning it were adjusting the aim of the weapon. They were not soldiers but engineers from the navy, taught in the latest ideas of mathematics. William didn't understand how they do it and he didn't have to. That was their job. Leading was his.

"How effective is this thing?" William asked the old Vanadian in a simple tunic. The Vanadian was carrying some parchment with numbers written on it.

"It depends General" The Vanadian said, fiddling with his white mustache "There are too many factors that could change the trajectory of the projectile. But it mostly depends on the distance and size of the target. Accuracy lessens with distance. Accuracy improves with the size of the target of course."

"How about those elephants?"

"The beasts? Well uh, let's see." The Vanadian spread the parchment and made some scribbles on it. "The maximum range of a normal ballista is about a thousand paces. More or less, eh not all ballistae are built the same you see. But I won't bet on doing damage to the beasts at a thousand paces. And it would be difficult to hit even the large beasts. Five hundred paces would probably suffice."

"How about catapults?"

"About the same range and accuracy sire. But er, the difference are the projectiles. Catapults hurl Hellfire pots while ballistae shoot long bolts. We can also hurl pots but the accuracy..."

"I know, I know" William held his palm as he shook his head. He was frowning now. "Can't you do anything to snipe those beasts? How about building a larger one?"

"It would take days sire and the accuracy would be piss poor. Plus the string cannot hold the tension."

"So there is nothing you can do?"

"Afraid so" The Vanadian lowered his head.

"Alright. Just focus on the beasts. If they come within the effective range of the ballistae and catapults they are to be prioritized. Relay this to the other crews."

"At once sire" The Vanadian said.

The Wismarines finished disembarking at midday. They divided into three and assaulted the western, eastern and northern walls of Holm.

The front line of the Wismarines bared shields against them. There were rams and ladders. Some enemies had grapples to scale the low walls of Holm.

Multiple horns blared in the side of the enemies. In an instant, the entire Wismarine force rushed toward the gate. Their numbers filled the field.

"Here they come!" William shouted. "Here they come! "

Chapter end