Reformation (28 page)

With Hastelloy safely
away, Gallono spun around to the menacing sight of four hardened clay warriors bearing down on him in a spread semicircle formation.  He knew one well placed swing of his sledge hammer would destroy one of his assailants, but the remaining three would have him surrounded and he’d be dead soon after.

Rather than facing them out in the open, Gallono opted to back his way into the tunnel and force the clay warriors to come at him single file in a confined spa
ce.  By the time the tunnel cast its dark shadows over Gallono, his opponents were just a few steps behind.

 
Realizing how difficult it was to see anything in the tunnel gave Gallono cause for concern about Hastelloy’s safety. “Don’t forget to watch out for traps along the way,” he shouted up the tunnel while working to remove one of the two hand cannons he carried on his back.  He jammed the long wooden shaft into the ground and braced it with the instep of his right foot.  He sparked the fuse to life and pointed the three foot long canister on top toward the approaching clay warriors.

Gallono closed his eyes
and held his breath, but there was nothing to be done about his ears.  An instant later the world erupted around him with sound and fury.  Hundreds of metal shards propelled by gunpowder exploded out of the hand cannon.  In the tunnel’s darkness the flash was nearly blinding, even with his eyes shut, and in the narrow corridor the smoke made it impossible to breath.  Those disadvantages, however, were far outweighed by the results.

Aligned i
n a single row, all four clay warriors simply ceased to exist; the largest fragments remaining could fit in the hand of a small child.  Gallono stumbled out of the tunnel and into the open again.  He exhaled and took a deep breath of the relatively fresh air available to him out there.  With his eyesight still washed out from the explosive flash, Gallono did not venture any farther from the tunnel.  He needed to defend the entrance and buy Hastelloy as much time as possible in order to destroy the Alpha’s reanimation device.

It took a few
minutes before Gallono was able to make out shapes with his vision, but he was able to see well enough to notice a bright blue flash rush past him, then another followed by two more.  He looked to his left and saw two clay soldiers marching side by side toward him.

“How does it feel facing the same adversary over and over again?” one of them
barked in the Alpha language.

To even the odds Gallono
gripped his hammer with both hands, raised the handle over his head and flung it at the approaching soldiers.  One of them was taken completely off guard by Gallono relinquishing his weapon.  The momentary hesitation allowed the sledge hammer to hit it dead center in the chest.  The hammer barely paused as it sailed right through the clay warrior, producing an explosion of clay shards with the hammer landing another thirty feet away among the rows of inanimate statues.

“Same opponent, same result,” Gallono mocked as he ducked under the remaining soldier’s sword swing.  He sidestepped another
cut and twirled in behind the hardened clay soldier to deliver a leg sweep to the back of its heel. 

To his great disappointment
, the strike only produced a shooting pain running up and down his right leg while his sturdy opponent didn’t even budge.  In return the soldier landed a colossal backhanded punch to Gallono’s cheek that sent him to the dirt and rolling away just in time to avoid a downward slice of the sword that would have cut him in half.

“Not the result you were expecting I
suppose,” the soldier said with a soft laugh.

Gallono panicked for
an instant when he realized he no longer stood between the soldier and the tunnel entrance.  The way was open for the creature to make a clean run after Hastelloy, but it didn’t.  His opponent was completely fixated on him and that was just fine with Gallono.

On the bright side,
Gallono was now free to retrieve his hammer.  He dashed three layers deep between two rows of statues and finally found the heavy object on the ground with the handle resting vertically against a statue’s leg.  Just when he wrapped his hand around the handle, another blue flash overtook the chamber and a moist clay hand grabbed Gallono around his left biceps and flung him backwards through the air like a ragdoll.

He crashed into
another clay, soldier toppling the statue to the ground.  Gallono rose to his feet again, but noticed the load on his back was significantly lighter.  He looked down to see his last remaining hand cannon smashed at his feet.

“Uh
oh, you broke your toy,” the soldier who launched Gallono through the air chuckled loudly while stalking toward him.

Another flash of blue let Gallono know trouble was near.  Suddenly a sword from a nearby statue to his right was in motion.  He bent backwards just in time to only suffer
a light cut across his chest.  Gallono immediately brought his hammer forward again and managed to obliterate the statue before it had time to catch its balance following the overly aggressive attack.

Gallono looked around his position and realized he was among dozens of potential enemies who could come to life at any moment to backstab him.  He dashed into the open where three clay soldiers awaited him with a fo
urth charging at his back.

He headed straight for the tunnel and used the wooden handle of his hammer to deflect a blo
w and then countered with a two-handed swing.  This time the blow was blocked and all he heard was the disheartening snap of wood.  The weakened handle broke in half leaving Gallono with a foot long stick to defend against four soldiers armed with swords.

“We’re as constant as the northern sta
r,” the nearest clay soldier barked in a feminine voice.  “Eventually, you will go down.”

Out of options, Gallono made a break for the dark tunnel leading to the burial chamber of the earthen pyramid.  He did not have the luxury of taking his time
; he was in full retreat mode with the clay soldiers now on the run after him.  The path was not completely dark. It was lit by an oil lamp about every twenty feet.

High stepping his feet and feeling his way along the hardened dirt walls Gallono frantically searche
d for anything along the half mile tunnel that would be useful.  He wasn’t being picky, anything at all would do. 

As he approached a lit floor lamp he spotted a hair thin line running between the far wall and the lamp
base a few inches off the ground.  Gallono looked for any indication as to what the wire might trip, but he saw nothing.  No loaded crossbows, no holes in the wall where spears might impale an intruder, there was nothing.

Before he reached the tripwire, one of the pursuing soldiers flung his sword at Gallono which caught him in the leg along his right thigh
, tripping him up.  Unable to arrest his fall, Gallono dove headfirst over the wire and landed in a crumpled heap ten feet beyond.  He attempted to get up again, but the sword protruding from his leg prevented such movement.  It was over, and he resigned himself to that fact.

The four clay soldiers slowed
their pursuit to a casual stroll when they drew near.  “Oh he’s down now; down for good.”

Gallono’s only hope was
that the tripwire would trigger something catastrophic.  He watched the first soldier step right over the string through sheer luck, but the second pointed out the danger to the others.  Out of options, Gallono threw the chopped down wooden handle in his hand at the line and succeeded cutting it clean through.

The soldiers looked concerned for a moment, but let it pass when nothing happened.  “They don’t make them like they used to I
suppose.”

A weighty groan shortly followed the clay
warrior’s words and a stone block three feet thick and twenty feet long crashed down from the tunnel ceiling leveling all four soldiers in its path.

“Down but not out,” Gallono sighed
while struggling back to his feet.  He pulled the sword out of his leg, and removed his shirt to tie a tourniquet around his thigh.  He then continued hobbling his way toward the burial chamber that Hastelloy was hopefully demolishing at that very moment.  A few minutes later a flash of radiant blue light raced past him to let Gallono know a fight may still lay ahead for him at the end of his hike.

If the first
sight of Weinsburg castle and its stout defenses gave Prince Fredrick a moment of pause, then seeing Hohensalzburg Castle occupying an entire hillside towering over the city of Salzburg must have caused his bowels to leave a brown puddle in the saddle.  The fortress was absolutely massive, and elevated with only one long, narrow switchback road winding up the impossibly steep incline to the castle.

Archers manning dozens of towers along the walls overlooking the path would inflict devastating casualties before the attackers even reached the gates.  Then the attackers would have the insurmountable task of breaking down not one, two or even three, but four separate sets of gate houses in succession as the
fortress walls wound their way up the hillside to the castle itself.

As the peasant army entered the city beneath the fortress
, Tomal watched as the castle gates were closed and locked tight before the tidal wave of commoners from the city were able to enter and seek refuge from the assault.  If locking them out were not enough, Tomal noticed the rail line running down the steepest cliff face continued hauling supplies into the fortress from the town below.  The people of Salzburg were simply left to fend for themselves without any provisions while their ‘protector’ sat on high, safe behind locked doors.

Tomal could not contain a laugh as he crossed the river over a stone bridge to enter the city’s business district.  He leaned over in his saddle to have a word with Prince Fredrick.  “I guess word reached the archbishop already about how we managed to overtake the last castle.”

“Clearly,” the prince responded without amusement.  Suddenly the clatter of broken glass along the right side of the street grabbed Fredrick’s attention.  He looked mad enough to breathe fire as he spurred his horse to a full gallop toward a store in the process of being robbed by his men.

“Stop this now,” the prince ordered
drawing his sword to emphasize his point.  “We are not petty thieves here to vandalize and steal from fellow peasants.  We are here to bring down the arrogant aristocracy that holds you under its boot.”

Either the words or sword put an immediate end to the behavior.  As a result, most of the townspeople turned away from the archbishop’s doors
and joined their cause.  In short order the fortress was completely surrounded, though the besieging forces kept an adequate distance out of respect for the archers manning the castle walls.

The central square of Salzburg lay two hundred yards away and downhill from the fortress walls.  Far enough away so arrows could not reach.  Tomal found it to be the ideal spot to set up his command tent.  While that was going on, Prince Fredrick received a rider and then walked toward Tomal to relay the message.

“I just received word the archbishop’s northern army turned south two days ago and will arrive here by midday tomorrow,” the prince reported.  “It appears we have until then to break through those walls, conquer the castle, and then rebuild them again to protect ourselves from the pursuing army.”

“Shall we get to it then?
” Tomal deadpanned back, but received a scowl in return.

“This is serious
.  When that professional army with twice our numbers arrives we will be slaughtered; every last one of us for what happened at Weinsburg.  Either you have a real plan to take that castle without destroying its protective walls in the next twenty-four hours or we need to move on.”

Tomal signaled for a wagon to be brought into the central square for unloading.  He then put an arm around his friend and turned him to look up at the fortress.  “Tell me what you see when you look at the main castle?  Not the walls and gates, but the inner castle itself,” Tomal asked.

The flustered prince tossed his head from side to side out of futility.  “I see an impressive structure that I will never live to see the inside of, what about it?”

“Is there anything unique about the roof?” Tomal prodded.

“It runs the entire length of the structure and has a steep angle to keep the snow off it during winter.”

“Exactly,” Tomal said with pride.  “I have it on good authority that the long roofline is supported by a single ridge beam made of solid oak to give the entire upper level an impressive, yet vulnerable, vaulted ceiling.”

“How nice for the archbishop,” the prince said dismissively.

“How nice for us,” Tomal countered.  “Strong as that oak beam is, it cannot handle the additional weight of snow or else it will snap.  If that single beam breaks the entire roof will collapse on
to the lower levels and possibly allow the walls to follow and bring the entire castle down on top of itself.  Then we leave and let the archbishop’s army pick up the pieces.”

The prince turned his head to look at Tomal with wi
de-eyed wonder.  “Great plan.  Let me get my saw.”  A doubtful tilt of Tomal’s head prompted him further.  “Seriously, how do you expect to get up there and sever that beam to accomplish your grand plan?”

A shudder of the ground and the groan of wooden wheels struggling to move under heavy weight caused Tomal to turn them both around and face the wagon he beckoned earlier.  “We let this new weapon do the job for us.”

Before them stood a ten foot long metal cannon mounted on the four wheeled cart.  The gunnery team was busy blocking the wheels into position and turning down a hand crank to raise the aim toward the roof line of the castle.

“What on earth is that and where did you get it?” the prince ma
naged to ask with his jaw scraping the dirt at his feet.

“A gun, a big one, that I heard rumors about a while back
,” Tomal beamed with pride as he inspected the physical incarnation of his designs.  “Weinsburg wasn’t just about murder and retribution.  It was about planning ahead.”

The prince’s look of awe immediately turned skeptical.  “I saw a demonstration once of a hand held black pow
der gun and was not impressed.  Only one in twelve shots even hit the target standing fifty feet away.  My archers were able to hit it dead center every time.”

Tomal walked over to a second wagon and pulled back the tan tarp to reveal three large kegs of black pow
der and two sizeable stacks of metal balls, each the size of a man’s head.  “We have enough powder and ammunition for thirty shots to hit our mark,” Tomal declared.  “I say we roll the dice and take our chances at scoring a direct hit.  What do we have to lose?”

The doubtful frown turned up slightly as the prince looked back at the castle again.  “Nothing
, I suppose.”  He turned his focus back to Tomal, but only saw his back walking away toward the city streets.  “Where are you going?”

“You have the primary plan well in hand, now I go to see about the backup arrangements,” Tomal answered back without turning around.

“Backup plan?” the prince repeated which caused Tomal to stop and turn around for a moment.

“Yes,
my mentor once told me he doesn’t even go to the bathroom without a backup plan,” Tomal responded and continued on into the city streets.  “Over the years I have found it to be sound advice,” he concluded over his shoulder.