Transmigration: Rise of the Iron Lord

The Gate Was Opened from Inside

Daniel turned toward the western passage, his hand tightening around his sword.

The main force was battering the eastern breach, yet another group had slipped through the rear gate. If they reached the courtyard, his men would be trapped between two fires.

"How many?" Daniel demanded.

The wounded soldier gasped for air. "At least twenty. They came up through the dry gully. They are already inside the stone corridor."

Edmund drew his blade, his face dark with fury. "That gate was barred from within. It was supposed to remain locked."

"Then someone unbarred it," Daniel replied. "Captain, take five men and seal the inner archway. Do not chase anyone into the ravine. Hold the passage."

"What about you?"

"I will hold the yard," Daniel said, his voice leaving no room for argument. "Move."

Edmund hesitated for a fraction of a second, then gave a sharp nod. "Stay alive, my lord."

Daniel turned to the soldiers who remained in the yard. "Move the wounded behind the stone grain store. Two men watch each doorway, and the rest form up on me. We cannot allow these intruders to join the raiders outside."

A young guard raised his hand, his knuckles white. "My lord, there are only eleven of us."

"Then eleven will have to hold the fort," Daniel answered.

They ran across the dusty flagstones.

The sound of clashing steel echoed from the western passage, followed by a sharp cry. Daniel reached the corner of the granary and peered down the narrow lane connecting the two gates.

Three men rounded the turn.

They wore fitted leather vests and carried short swords. Unlike the rough raiders outside, their clothes were clean, and each wore a strip of dark gray cloth tied around his left forearm.

"Halt," Daniel called out, stepping into their path with his blade raised.

The lead intruder stopped, his eyes darting past Daniel toward the eastern courtyard. "Where is Captain Edmund?"

"He is occupied," Daniel said.

"We have orders to open the fortress for the commander," the man stated, taking a step forward.

"Whose orders?" Daniel asked, keeping his weight balanced.

The man hesitated, glancing at his companions.

That hesitation gave him away.

"Take them," Daniel shouted.

The soldiers behind Daniel surged forward. The front intruder lunged at Daniel's chest with a short sword. Daniel stepped aside, letting the steel slide past his leather vest, and drove his shoulder hard into the man’s ribs.

The intruder stumbled backward. Daniel brought his hilt down across the man's wrist, knocking the weapon to the dirt.

A guard behind Daniel drove a spear butt into the second man's stomach, dropping him to his knees. The third intruder turned to run toward the western exit, but two defenders blocked the alley and pinned him against the stone wall.

Within seconds, the three men were disarmed and forced to the ground.

"Bind their arms," Daniel ordered. "Keep them breathing."

The lead captive spat onto Daniel’s boots. "You should have died in the capital, little lord."

Daniel knelt beside him, his gaze level and cold. "Who unbarred the western gate?"

The man sneered. "Find out when Gareth cuts your throat."

Daniel stood up and looked at his men. "Search them. Take every scrap of parchment, token, and tool they carry."

A guard reached inside the prisoner’s vest and pulled out a small stamped brass token. He handed it to Daniel. Pressed into the center of the metal was the crest of a running stag.

Daniel recognized it instantly. It was the mark of the royal quartermaster. These were not common outlaws hired along the frontier. They were men taking direct pay from the capital.

A frantic shout rose from the western corridor. "Captain, fall back!"

Daniel ran down the narrow path toward the iron sally port.

Edmund and three guards were locked in a desperate struggle. Two defenders lay motionless on the flagstones, while seven intruders pushed forward with shields locked together. Behind them, another soldier was dragging a wounded comrade back toward safety.

"Hold the line," Edmund roared, his blade ringing against a wooden shield.

"Fall back three paces," Daniel shouted as he reached the melee.

Edmund shot him a quick look through his dented visor. "If we give up the arch, they flood the yard!"

"Step back and draw them in," Daniel commanded.

Edmund gritted his teeth and gave ground. The defenders took three calculated steps backward, pulling the tight formation of attackers into the narrow mouth of the inner corridor.

Daniel pointed to the heavy wooden handcart resting against the wall. "Tip the cart!"

Two guards threw their weight against the wooden frame. The cart overturned with a loud crash, spilling thick timber logs across the narrow threshold.

The attackers tripped over the rolling wood, their shield wall breaking apart in an instant. Edmund stepped forward and drove his blade into the nearest exposed flank, while the remaining guards thrust their spears over the overturned cart.

Without their formation, the intruders could not fight as a unit. In moments, the four surviving attackers threw down their blades and surrendered.

Edmund wiped blood from his forehead, breathing heavily. "How did they pass an iron gate barred with oak beams?"

Daniel looked at the heavy iron door resting slightly open on its hinges. "Someone lifted the bar from this side."

Edmund stiffened, his eyes widening. "One of my men?"

"We cannot assume anyone inside these walls is clean," Daniel said.

"I have commanded this post for twelve years," Edmund said, his voice rising in anger. "My soldiers would not sell their honor to court butchers."

"Then we will find out who did," Daniel answered quietly.

A dull thud shook the fortress courtyard. A thick plume of gray smoke rose above the damaged eastern wall, followed by the crackle of burning pine.

"The fire cart," Edmund cursed.

They sprinted back to the eastern breach.

The raiders had rolled a heavy cart loaded with burning pitch through the gap. The flames were licking the wooden wagons Daniel had used to block the path. Thick black smoke rolled across the yard, blinding the defenders who were trying to douse the blaze with wooden buckets of well water.

"Drop the buckets," Daniel yelled, waving the smoke from his eyes. "Water will only spread burning pitch. Shovel dry dirt and gravel over the flames. Smother it before it reaches the granary."

The soldiers dropped their pails and grabbed spades, hurling piles of loose dirt over the burning tar. The fire hissed and choked beneath the earth, but the smoke remained thick.

An iron tipped arrow whistled through the smoke and struck the stone inches from Daniel's boot.

Daniel looked through the breach.

Gareth Vane sat mounted just beyond the rubble. His dark warhorse shifted restlessly as he watched the smoke rise into the sky. He drew his royal broadsword and leveled the point directly at the gap in the wall.

"Forward," Gareth commanded, his voice cutting through the noise. "Take the yard."

The remaining raiders raised a roar and charged toward the smoldering wagons.

Daniel looked across his defenses. His men were bleeding and exhausted, the barricades were charred, and another assault would overrun the courtyard in minutes.

Yet Gareth had made an error.

Confident that the fortress was falling, the commander had ridden within thirty paces of the broken wall, accompanied by only three mounted guards.

Daniel turned to Edmund. "Hold the wagon gap with the spears. I want Gareth alive."

Edmund stared at him in disbelief. "He has two hundred men outside that wall. How do you plan to take him?"

"By making him believe the gate is already open," Daniel replied.

Before Edmund could speak, a young soldier ran out from the granary, his face pale.

"My lord," the boy stammered, holding out a bloodstained slip of parchment. "The lead prisoner. Someone cut his throat while we were at the wall."

Daniel took the paper. Written across the center were eight clean, steady words.

The next body will be yours, Lord Wellington.

Daniel looked toward the open yard, then at the men standing around him.

The court had not simply armed the raiders outside. Their assassin was standing inside the fortress walls, watching him this very moment.