Legends of the Riftwar by Raymond E. Feist

extra minutes to get their wind even as they advanced up the steep slope.
    Finally they turned the last bend in the trail and the stockade was directly ahead. He continued the walking pace for a few more seconds, perhaps the guard would be looking the other way, but even as the thought formed the high piercing wail of a horn echoed.
    â€˜Charge!’
    They sprinted straight for the gate, Asayaga leading the way, stumpy legs churning through the slushy snow. The range closed, fifty paces, forty, down to thirty. The lone guard raised a bow, took aim, and released the string. Asayaga heard the snap of the arrow hit the shield of the man next to him.
    The gate loomed up in front of them and Asayaga braced himself for the impact. Without slowing the phalanx crashed into the wooden barrier, over four tons of human flesh and armour acting as a battering ram.
    He had hoped that the barrier log would not be in place, or would be so weak that they’d crash right in. He felt the log gate give inward, groaning, his men continuing to push, running in place, feet slipping, churning up the frozen ground beneath.
    The gate held.
    The warrior to his left collapsed without a sound. A rock the size of a human head had crushed his skull in. Asayaga looked up. Directly above were half a dozen moredhel, several throwing rocks, one aiming a bow straight down at them. Spears arced up, catching one, but the rest loosed their deadly loads and several more men dropped.
    The effort at the gate was useless. He couldn’t retreat now.
    â€˜Spread out along the wall!’ Asayaga screamed, ‘Stay against the wall. Archers! Keep them down!’
    His men spread out. He caught a glimpse of Tasemu dragging a wounded recruit up against the wall. Pressed hard against the stones they were relatively safe; an archer would have to lean over to shoot and his own archers deployed to either side of the trailand back a couple of dozen yards were effective in keeping the enemy down.
    Asayaga waited a couple of minutes, trying to judge just how many were on the other side. If a dozen or less, perhaps his own archers could take most of them out. Two more minutes passed slowly.
    A few rocks arced over the wall but his men remained pressed against the side of the stockade and were safe. It was a stalemate.
    â€˜We can’t stay here forever. I think our pursuers are close. If so they’ll slaughter us out here.’
    It was Tasemu.
    Asayaga nodded. ‘Pair up!’ he shouted. ‘Every other man vaults the wall. Get ready!’
    Tasemu started to sheath his sword.
    â€˜No, I go first.’
    Softly, the old warrior asked, ‘Will you stop trying to get yourself killed?’
    â€˜It’s my duty.’
    â€˜Suppose you get killed, then Sugama takes over?’
    Asayaga shook his head and kept his eyes locked on Tasemu. ‘I have no intention of dying, and if I do, you decide who takes over. Now, cup your hands.’
    Tasemu grumbled but finally bent over and did as he was told.
    â€˜Ready!’
    He looked along the wall. Most of his men had doubled up and were prepared, and there was no time to wait for the laggards.
    â€˜Now!’
    He slammed his right foot into Tasemu’s cupped hands and at the same instant grabbed hold of his shoulders. Tasemu stood up with a grunt.
    Asayaga vaulted and grabbed the top of the barrier. He scrambled to pull himself over. He caught a glimpse of a moredhel, back turned, striking down with an axe, splitting open the skull of the man to Asayaga’s right.
    Asayaga rolled over the wall and landed on the rampart. The moredhel turned, letting go of the axe as his victim fell. He whipped out a dagger and with a snakelike hiss leapt on Asayaga. The twoclutched each other and rolled off the rampart, falling half a dozen feet to the ground.
    The blow knocked the wind out of Asayaga but he hung on to his foe, blocking a slashing strike to his eyes with his cloak wrapped around his