The first Mughal cannon struck the outer walls of Fort Panhala with a thunderous crash, sending shockwaves through the stone beneath Vidur Pant's feet. Dust and debris rained down from the ramparts, and the air was thick with tension.
"Archers!" Vidur shouted from the walls, his voice firm and steady. "Release!"
A flurry of arrows shot from the fort's battlements, slicing through the air and landing in the midst of the advancing Mughal army. But the enemy continued their march, unrelenting, shields raised to deflect the rain of arrows. The Mughal infantry, supported by siege engines, advanced in dense formations, their intent clear: they were coming for the gates.
Vidur's heart raced, but his face remained calm. He turned to Narayanrao, who was positioned beside him, a mix of sweat and dust on his brow. "They're moving faster than I expected."
Narayanrao nodded, his jaw tight. "Their siege engines will be at our gates before long."
Vidur glanced at the massive battering rams creeping toward the fort, pulled by teams of soldiers. "We need to stop those rams. If they reach the gates, we're done."
The ground shook again as another round of cannon fire slammed into the fort's walls. Vidur could feel the tremor beneath him, but he remained steady.
"Prepare the oil!" Vidur called out, his voice cutting through the noise of battle.
The soldiers moved quickly, hauling barrels of oil to the edge of the ramparts. Vidur watched closely, his eyes narrowing as the Mughal forces drew closer. He could see their siege towers now, rolling forward with grim determination.
"Now!" Vidur ordered.
The soldiers tipped the barrels, sending a torrent of boiling oil cascading down onto the Mughal soldiers below. Screams filled the air as the hot liquid scorched their flesh, forcing the attackers to scatter in panic. The siege towers, however, continued their slow advance.
"They're still coming!" Narayanrao shouted, his sword drawn as he moved along the wall.
Vidur's grip tightened on the hilt of his own sword. "Keep firing! We have to hold them off."
Vidur and Narayanrao descended the steps from the ramparts, moving quickly toward the main gate, where the bulk of the Maratha defenders had gathered. The gate was their weakest point, and the Mughal battering rams were getting closer by the minute.
"The gates won't hold against those rams," Narayanrao said, his voice laced with urgency.
Vidur knew he was right. If the rams reached the gates, it would be over. He needed to act fast.
"Get the men ready to push them back," Vidur commanded, his voice hard. "We don't let those rams reach us."
The soldiers quickly formed a defensive line near the gate, their spears and swords at the ready. Vidur stood at the front, his eyes scanning the battlefield. The Mughal soldiers were closing in, and the pounding of their footsteps grew louder with every passing second.
"They're almost here!" Narayanrao called out.
Vidur raised his sword. "Hold steady! Wait for my signal!"
The tension in the air was palpable. The Maratha soldiers gripped their weapons tightly, their eyes locked on the advancing enemy. This was it. The moment that would decide the fate of the fort.
The first wave of Mughal soldiers slammed into the Maratha line with brutal force. Swords clashed, and the air was filled with the sounds of battle. Vidur fought alongside his men, his sword moving with deadly precision as he parried strikes and countered with swift blows. His muscles burned with effort, but he couldn't afford to slow down. They couldn't let the line break.
"Push them back!" Vidur shouted, his voice fierce as he drove his sword into the chest of a Mughal attacker. Blood splattered across his armor, but he kept fighting.
Narayanrao was beside him, swinging his sword in wide arcs, cutting down any Mughal soldier who dared to approach. "They're bringing the ram!" he called out, his breath ragged.
Vidur turned, his heart sinking as he saw the massive battering ram being pushed toward the gate. The wooden structure was reinforced with iron, designed to break through the strongest defenses.
"We need to stop it!" Vidur yelled. "Now!"
Vidur signaled to a group of soldiers near the wall. "Archers! Focus your fire on the men pushing the ram!"
The archers responded immediately, unleashing a hail of arrows that struck the Mughal soldiers pushing the battering ram. Several men fell, but more quickly took their place, continuing to drive the ram forward.
"They're not stopping," Narayanrao muttered through gritted teeth.
Vidur's mind raced. We need something more. He glanced toward the barrels of oil still positioned along the wall.
"Set the oil on fire!" Vidur ordered, his voice sharp. "We'll burn the ram before it reaches the gate."
The soldiers moved quickly, lighting torches and tossing them into the oil. Within moments, flames erupted along the base of the wall, licking up toward the approaching ram. The fire spread rapidly, engulfing the wooden structure and sending plumes of smoke into the air.
Vidur watched as the flames consumed the battering ram, but the Mughals weren't giving up. Despite the fire, they continued to push forward, determined to break through.
"They're relentless," Narayanrao muttered.
Vidur nodded, his face grim. "We need to hold them just a little longer."
As the battle raged on, Vidur could feel the weight of exhaustion creeping into his limbs. The Mughal forces were relentless, their sheer numbers overwhelming. How long can we keep this up?
But there was no time for doubt. The Mughals had reached the gate, and Vidur could hear the wood creaking under the force of the battering ram. Every strike shook the walls, and he knew it wouldn't hold for long.
"Fall back to the inner keep if they breach!" Vidur shouted to his men, his voice carrying over the noise of battle.
Narayanrao looked at him, his eyes filled with urgency. "Do you think they'll break through?"
Vidur didn't answer. He could see the cracks forming in the gate, the wood splintering under the pressure. It's only a matter of time.
With a final, deafening crash, the gates of Fort Panhala gave way. The massive wooden doors splintered and fell, and the Mughal soldiers surged forward into the courtyard.
Vidur's heart pounded as he turned to his men. "Fall back! To the inner keep!"
The Maratha soldiers retreated in an organized fashion, pulling back toward the inner defenses as the Mughal forces poured into the fort. Vidur fought his way through the chaos, his sword flashing as he cut down any enemy in his path.
"We can't let them reach the keep!" Narayanrao shouted, his voice hoarse from battle.
Vidur gritted his teeth, his body aching with fatigue, but he refused to stop. We have to hold the keep. If we lose that, it's over.
As the Mughal soldiers advanced, Vidur and his men regrouped at the entrance to the inner keep, forming a tight defensive line. The courtyard was filled with the sounds of battle, but Vidur's mind was clear. This is our last stand. We don't let them through.
Narayanrao was at his side, his sword raised. "We fight until the last man," he said, his voice steady despite the chaos around them.
Vidur nodded, his eyes locked on the enemy. "We hold the line. No matter what."
The Mughal soldiers charged, and the Marathas braced for impact. Vidur stood at the front, his sword flashing in the dim light as he parried blow after blow. The battle was fierce, the outcome uncertain. But Vidur knew one thing: they wouldn't go down without a fight.