Demontech: Gulf Run by David Sherman

southeast corners, the Jokapcul dispatched to intercept reinforcements crowded under the overhang and were mostly protected from boiling oil. However, they weren’t protected from arrow fire from the towers. For a short while it looked like the assault was doomed to failure.
    Ten of the coast huggers backed off from the quays and piers; they carried the large demon spitters that had sunk most of the galleys that screened the harbor mouth. The demon spitter crews positioned their weapons so the flanged back ends of the tubes were out over the water then angled the tubes to fire high, pelting the crenellations atop the walls. The merlons were weakened with each strike, until they burst, violently throwing chunks of rock about, injuring or killing the soldiers firing arrows or pouring oil onto the attackers. That gave the eight catapults on the sea wall’s battlements and two to the north and two more to the west the angle they needed to fling rocks at the coast huggers—they sank two of the demon-spitter coast huggers before they were all knocked out. Half of the demon spitters returned their attention to the archers and oil-boilers, while the others blasted the wall just above the heads of the combatants on the ground.
    Reinforcing cavalry troops began arriving at the north- and southeast corners, and the intercepting Jokapcul spread out to meet them. The cavalry was joined by some of the refugee soldiers who charged forward on foot. Most of the Jokapcul avoided the charging horses and chopped or thrust their swords at the cavalrymen or disemboweled their mounts. The surviving cavalrymen swung furiously, hewing off limbs and liberating large volumes of blood and gore. The first waves of cavalry were quickly dispatched, but many of the charging horses evaded the enemy weapons and slammed into the Jokapcul, knocking them down like ten pins and trampling them before falling themselves. When the second waves arrived, they faced fewer Jokapcul and killed a larger number before they were themselves killed. The third waves finished off the screening Jokapcul and waited for the fourth waves before they charged into the main force.
    Most of the refugees were in panic. Some tried to climb the city walls, but found no purchase on the stone. Many huddled together, crying, seeking safety in mounds of protective bodies. A few hundred jumped into the harbor and attempted to swim to safety. Those who climbed aboard the Jokapcul craft were swiftly killed and thrown back to feed the fish and crabs. Several merchantmen and fishing boats capsized because too many swimmers scrabbled for their decks. But most of the refugees ran aimlessly hither and yon in wide-eyed panic. Few of the runners bothered to pick up more than a few random goods; a very few staggered under so much weight they couldn’t advance faster than a stumbling shamble.
    When the victorious army from the goat-field battle swarmed out of the forest, it fell upon the refugees in the farms south of the city. None of them survived, not even the refugee soldiers who tried to fight. Then the Jokapcul headed for the refugees fleeing west.
    Spinner and the Prince’s Swords who came with him skidded to a stop just shy of where the southwest road emptied into the farmland. The sound of running footsteps spun him to face the trees on his right and snapped his quarterstaff into position, ready to fight.
    “Spinner!”
    “Haft!”
    Haft broke from the trees and stopped, facing Spinner. Spinner suddenly grinned and stepped forward to embrace his friend.
    “Haft, I was afraid we’d lost you!”
    “Lost me? Never! Why would you think that?”
    “There was a fight beyond the trees. I was afraid you’d come across it and tried to help. But the Dartmutter cause was hopeless.”
    Haft pulled back and gave Spinner an odd look. “Yes, that fight was hopeless. We,” he waved at the Bloody Axes with him, “couldn’t help our people if we joined that fight and died. Anyway, we were a