A wave of steel surrounding a battering ram with a head of iron shaped like a fist. The Fist of Rule, they called it. It took more than a dozen men strapped into position either side to manoeuvre the heavy machine of war.Its thick wooden wheels rumbled across the wet ground, which was the only reason the ram would need more than a few good shots at the gate. It couldn't pick up enough speed, and needed wrestling to position it properly. When positioned, they could wind the chains to start the machine swinging the ram at the gate. But first, they figured they weren't right, so began hauling it back for one more charge. Hoping to aim the ram where it would do the most damage.Pryke, surprised by the savage impact, fell backwards onto his rump and forgot to turn the wheel.As she'd predicted, the Caspiellans threw away any semblance of tactics and relied on brute force. The presence of their cleric made them confidant. Their archers stormed up behind the ram and fired arrows upward. They fired blindly, arrows searching for targets beyond their vision.One found the throat of the young boy who'd been serving the stew.
What do You think about When Goblins Rage (Book 3)?
