The gong was the signal that Andre had made it.
The still-living Venetian soldiers and Herders carried Winters and quickly withdrew from the artillery bastion. The enemy inside the bastion, uncertain of what was real, dared not pursue.
Leaning against a tree trunk, Winters sat on the ground and silently counted the remaining men. There were only eleven of them left with him, and each of the survivors was injured.
Adding the three from Bard's side and the five from Andre's, tonight Winters had lost twenty-three men under his command, half of his force.
Hestas, who had stayed behind at the assault position, was treating Winters' wounds. The old Shaman first cleaned the wound, then washed it with warm salt water. Finally, he began chanting in a strange tone.