The night passed with a tense stillness hanging over Fort Panhala. Vidur Pant stood on the ramparts, his eyes fixed on the dark horizon where the Mughal campfires still flickered like the dying embers of a great fire. The fort had been granted a brief moment of peace, but Vidur knew all too well that this calm wouldn't last.
"They'll come again,"
Narayanrao murmured from beside him, his voice hoarse with exhaustion. "As soon as the first light breaks."
Vidur didn't respond right away, his mind already racing with the plans that had been swirling in his head since they had sabotaged the battering ram. Every attack they repelled only delayed the inevitable.
"I know," Vidur said quietly. He glanced at Narayanrao, whose face was lined with fatigue. "Get some rest. You'll need your strength."
Narayanrao hesitated, his eyes scanning the battlefield below, then nodded. "We all will."
As Narayanrao disappeared into the shadows of the fort, Vidur remained by the ramparts, the cool night air biting at his skin. His fingers curled tightly around the cold stone as he stared out at the enemy camp, his mind restless. How long can we hold out?
The sun crept over the horizon, casting long shadows across the battlefield. The Mughals had not wasted any time. Even from a distance, Vidur could see the movement in their camp—soldiers gathering, siege engines being repaired, the war drums already beginning their rhythmic pounding.
"They're mobilizing again,"
Santaji Ghorpade said as he joined Vidur atop the walls. His face was stern, his gaze hard. "They don't intend to give us a moment of peace."
Vidur's jaw clenched as he watched the activity below. It's a siege of attrition now. They'll keep coming until we have nothing left.
"They're testing us," Vidur muttered, his voice low but filled with certainty. "Seeing how long we can hold out before we break."
Santaji's brow furrowed, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "And how long can we?"
Vidur's gaze remained on the Mughal forces. "As long as we must."
The air grew tense as the Mughal soldiers began their approach. The sound of their war drums pounded through the still morning air, sending shivers down the spines of the men on the ramparts. Vidur moved through the lines of archers, his eyes scanning their weary faces.
"Hold steady," Vidur said quietly, his voice firm but calm. "Wait for my command."
The archers nodded, their hands gripping their bows tightly, their eyes locked on the advancing enemy. The siege ladders were back, and this time, there were more of them—taller, reinforced with iron, and pushed by rows of determined Mughal soldiers.
"They're coming in force this time," Narayanrao said as he appeared at Vidur's side, his expression grim. "They won't stop until they breach the walls."
Vidur nodded. "We hit them with everything we have."
The first Mughal siege ladder slammed against the walls with a deafening crash. Vidur's heart pounded as he watched the enemy soldiers begin their ascent, climbing the ladders with ruthless efficiency.
"Archers!" Vidur shouted, his voice cutting through the din. "Fire!"
A volley of arrows arced through the air, raining down on the Mughal soldiers below. The first few men on the ladders were struck down, their bodies crumpling as they fell, but more climbed over them, determined to reach the top.
"They're not stopping," Narayanrao muttered, his eyes wide as he saw the next wave of ladders being raised. "They're sending everyone."
Vidur's hand tightened around the hilt of his sword. "Then we push them back, again and again."
The battle along the walls was fierce. Vidur moved quickly through the chaos, his sword flashing as he cut down the first Mughal soldier to reach the top of the wall. The man fell with a heavy thud, but more followed, their swords drawn, their eyes filled with grim determination.
Narayanrao was beside him, his blade cutting through the air in swift, deadly arcs. "There are too many of them!" he shouted over the clamor of battle. "We're going to be overrun!"
Vidur's chest burned with the effort of each strike, but his mind remained clear. "We hold the line!" he shouted, his voice hard. "No matter what."
The Mughal soldiers poured onto the walls, their sheer numbers overwhelming the Maratha defenders. Vidur could feel the line beginning to buckle, but he pushed harder, cutting through the enemy with a grim determination. We can't let them break through.
"Vidur!"
Narayanrao's voice broke through the noise, drawing Vidur's attention to a section of the wall where the Mughals had managed to gain a foothold. A group of soldiers had broken through, pushing back the Maratha defenders and swarming onto the ramparts.
"We're losing the western side!" Narayanrao shouted, his face pale with urgency.
Vidur's eyes narrowed. If they take that part of the wall, the rest of the fort will fall.
Without hesitation, Vidur rallied a small group of soldiers and charged toward the breach. His sword flashed in the dim light as he cut down the first enemy soldier in his path, his movements quick and precise. We have to push them back.
The battle was brutal. The narrow space along the ramparts made it difficult to maneuver, and every swing of the sword felt heavier than the last. But Vidur fought with everything he had, his mind focused on one goal—holding the line.
"Push them back!" Vidur shouted, his voice hoarse as he struck down another Mughal soldier.
The Maratha soldiers rallied behind him, their swords flashing as they forced the enemy back, step by step. The Mughals fought fiercely, but Vidur's relentless assault gave them no room to regroup.
After what felt like an eternity, the Mughals began to retreat, their numbers thinning as they fell back toward the ladders. Vidur's chest heaved as he watched them pull away, his sword slick with blood, his body aching from the effort.
"They're retreating," Narayanrao muttered, his voice filled with disbelief.
Vidur didn't relax. His eyes scanned the battlefield below, where the remaining Mughal forces were regrouping, preparing for yet another assault. This is only the beginning.
"Don't let your guard down," Vidur said quietly, his voice steady despite the exhaustion weighing on him. "They'll come again."
Narayanrao wiped the sweat from his brow, his face lined with fatigue. "How many more times can we do this?"
Vidur's gaze hardened. "As many as it takes."
Even as the Mughal forces retreated from the walls, Vidur's sharp eyes caught movement farther back in the enemy camp. His heart sank as he saw what was coming—a new siege tower, larger and more heavily armored than the ones they had seen before, being rolled forward.
"They've built another one," Santaji muttered as he joined Vidur on the ramparts, his eyes locked on the massive structure.
Vidur's stomach twisted. We don't have enough men to stop that.
"They're bringing everything," Narayanrao said quietly, his voice filled with dread. "This is it, Vidur. This is their final push."
Vidur stared at the advancing siege tower, his mind racing. If that tower reaches the walls, we won't be able to hold them off. He turned to Narayanrao, his voice calm but urgent. "We need to destroy it before it reaches us."
Narayanrao's brow furrowed. "How?"
Vidur's gaze shifted to the oil barrels stacked near the walls. "We'll use fire. If we can get close enough to set it ablaze, we can stop it."
Narayanrao hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "It's risky. But it's our only chance."