Ascendant

by Florian Armas

  “Ride!” Codrin shouted.

  It was like unleashing a dam of dark horses. The roar from the men drowned out the twang of bows as the dark of the night sky was pierced by invisible arrows. The archers dismounted and dropped onto their backs, tensing the bows with their feet, almost leaping into the air as their arrows went skyward. Another volley flew before the first had even landed. The camp in the plain came to life while death spread, taking her toll. Men were rising, grabbing weapons and armor, but it was too late for organized resistance. The arrows showered into the camp like rain, and the night was filled with shrieks of agony.

  Codrin knew he had won the battle before the first sword fell. He also knew that he was far from winning the war.

  With the full morning came the full account of the battle.

  “We’ve lost four hundred and seven soldiers,” the first captain of Tolosa informed Pierre.

  “What about them?” Pierre asked, pointing at the horses having no riders.

  “Codrin lost twenty-seven men.”

  “Commanders!” Pierre shouted. “We’ve met a man who knows how to fight. There was a wattle to protect us, and there were sentries watching the night. It was not enough. We need to double everything, and we need men who knows how to make a watch. Warn them that they will be the first ones to die.”

  “Do you think that Codrin will repeat the attack?” Jaun asked when he remained alone with Pierre.

  “He may, but not soon, and not in the same fashion.” The Wraith of Tolosa is a resourceful man. Soon, I have to tell Jaun n that Codrin is Tudor. He saved my son’s life. “Learn from his attack. One day you may confront him or you may befriend him.” It should be the latter. Julien might be one of Codrin’s best commanders. In time he might even be his Spatar. Those fools from the Circle think that they can defeat Codrin. It will not happen. After this war, I will challenge that witch who pushed Baldovin into this fight. “The commanders will gather in my tent. Go and receive them; I still have some things to check.”

  “It will not be a pleasant talk,” Jaun said and left his father. He found Bucur, Verenius and Octavian inside the tent. Silent, he took his place at the long table. He always sat on Pierre’s right.

  “Why didn’t the scouts warn us of this night attack? How could they take us so unaware? Somebody must be held responsible for this disaster!” Bucur shook his head vigorously. He was red-faced and angry. Codrin led his main attack on Bucur’s area, killing almost half of his men.

  Jaun stared at him, for a few moments, but ignored his question.

  “I asked you a question.”

  “You don’t have much experience in battle,” Jaun said, his words coming slowly, as if he was forcing them through his teeth. His eyes were looking attentive at a small dark spot on the ceiling. “There will be a council soon. You can voice your worries when it starts.”

  One by one, more commanders entered the tent, and most of them frowned, sensing the bad mood.

  “You won’t answer because your scouts failed us.”

  “It’s no good blaming the scouts for this night. In this fog and rain, an full army could slip through our lines,” Verenius said.

  “Bad weather is not an excuse,” Octavian took Bucur’s part. He was not giving much credit to Bucur, but settling scores with Verenius was another thing. This weakling took my place as Primus Itinerant. He stared at Verenius, a cold smile on his lips, but Verenius did not take the bait. Weakling.

  “A war council is not to find excuses or to settle scores,” Pierre said when entering the tent too. He took his place at one head of the table, while Bucur seated himself at the other head. “Bickering is getting us nowhere. We need to understand what happened and to decide what we are to do now. A blaming game will not help.”

  “Let’s start with the scouts,” Bucur said. “A full army attacked us in the morning. Why were they not able to spot it?”

  “In the past two weeks, all our scouts who went away more than five miles from the camp vanished. In the council, we took the decision to keep them closer to the camp. There was no way to find an army which was hidden in the forest, in a familiar place.”

  “It was a wrong decision.”

  “Our decision kept our scouts alive, and none of you opposed that decision. We still need them to check the area around the camp.”

  “We need better scouts,” Octavian said.

  “Where to find them? If you volunteer to scout the forests around, I will accept your offer.” They say that the Circle has capable Itinerants, Pierre thought. Octavian is not stupid, so it must be a game. He stared at Circle’s man, daring him to answer. It did not happen. Who was his target? Pierre glanced around and saw Verenius smiling thinly. So, this is an internal fight. “If there are no more questions related to the scouts...” Pierre glanced around, but no one tried to interfere. “Our next weak link in the chain were the sentries. In the area where the attack occurred, we had ten sentries last night, and most of them were behind the wattle palisade. None of them raised the alarm and when the attack occurred the palisade was down.” This time, Pierre stared at Bucur; it was his area on which Codrin entered the camp.

  Bucur blasted in frustration, “That’s ridiculous!” and turned his back on Pierre to try to control his temper.

  “We will split your area of responsibility in three. One goes to Tolosa, the other two to Peyris and Arad. Sandro, Doren,” Pierre looked at the second Spatar of Peyris and the Spatar of Arad, “talk with Jaun after the meeting for who will take what. This campaign wasn’t quite what we expected, and it’s not yet finished. Anything else?” He stared at the people around the table, and found only silence. Bucur opened his mouth to protest, then shut it in a grim line. “You are free to go.”

  “I thought that we had the best scouts in Frankis,” Julien said, his voice bitter, when he remained alone with his father. Before being promoted to commander, he was the leader of the scouts.

  Pierre placed a hand on his shoulders, and they went out together. “We have very good scouts, but the ones out there,” Pierre gestured toward the forest covering the foot of the southern mountain, “were trained by the Wraith of Tolosa.”

  “Tudor?” Jaun asked in disbelief. “He is from Tolosa. Why is he working against us?”

  “He is not working against us. He works for himself.”

  “But he is from Tolosa, and he is a man of honor.”

  “Son,” Pierre squeezed his shoulder, “it’s time for you to know this. Codrin and Tudor are the same person.”

  “It can’t be.” He stared at his father for a denial that did not came. “Since when do you know this?”

  “Since I met him at the Burned Forest Cross. I suppose that Vlad is the leader of his scouts.”

  “During the night attack, we’ve lost just seven men who were in Arad camp. Codrin attacked only Bucur and Orban’ soldiers. Peyris lost sixty something men, because they went to help the soldiers from Arad. We were on the other side of the camp, far from the battle.”

  “We are here to lay siege on Poenari, because Baldovin was stupid enough to listen to the Circle, but Tudor is still our friend.”

  “Yes, but why did he spare Peyris? They were not attacked either.”

  “It may be that he has a friend there too, most probably Cleyre. She delayed Peyris army.”

  “Don’t you think that all this is a farce?” Jaun asked, pointing at the camp.

  “War is never a farce, but Bucur as candidate King is the worst one I’ve seen in my life, and I am not a young man. I don’t know how the Circle could go so low. This thing related to Codrin should stay between us, no one else know, not even my commanders. Go now, Sandro and Doren are waiting for you.”

  Chapter 32 – Codrin

  It all started with a small line of clouds at the edge of the sky. It was little more than a smudge, white and thin, almost shy. The wind blew them back toward the ocean, and they vanished from sight. The clouds were stubborn, though. They came back some minutes l
ater, and their color soon changed to dark blue, then to black. It was almost as if they wanted to scare the wind, still trying to blow west. In a minute, the wind changed its mind, moved east and gained strength. The clouds rolled over the sky, and the soldiers began to look uneasily around. Strong gusts came from nowhere, and the men on the plain leaned into the wind to avoid being thrown down. Some simply lay down in the grass. In the eerie light beneath the clouds, the fortress looked impregnable and sinister. In less than half an hour, the blue sky vanished, and it was almost like the night came at noon that day. The first drops were so huge that they left holes the size of a child’s fist in the dust. The wind stopped. The flood came a few moments later. It was like someone had broken a dam in the sky. Soon, the green plain morphed into a pool. It was not deep, just three feet , as Codrin blocked the bottom of channel dug by the Albans to allow the water to move away from the plain. In the middle, over the road from Orhei leading toward Poenari, the water was less than a foot deep. Only the eastern part, close to the small ridge where the road mounted toward the gate, was not yet submerged. Chased by the rising water, the soldiers gathered there, and the place soon became crowded. Angry eyes followed the water, which was still rising.

  “Blast this rain,” Pierre cursed. “Companies three, four and seven, move the carts with the food over here. We still need to eat.” These companies were Mountes, men from the Pirenes Mountains in the south, and they were tall and strong.

  “We can even climb on them, if the water rises further,” Bucur added, trying to take some initiative.

  “It will not rise further.” Pierre used his hand as a roof for his eyes, trying to see something through the almost darkness. “The water stopped rising when it reached the discharge channel at the other end of the plain.”

  “Whoever built that was an idiot. Two-thirds of the plains are flooded.”

  “It works as it was expected to work,” Pierre snapped. “The floor of the channel is not much higher than the plain, and that deceived us. I should have thought about it. My guess is that Codrin had partially covered the channel. As soon as the rain stops, we should prepare for battle.”

  “Do you really think that they will attack?” Bucur snorted.

  “It’s what I would do. We were herded here without our horses.” Pierre glanced up. “Reno, move fifty people onto the ridge. You go with them. I don’t want them to rain arrows on us.”

  Reno moved swiftly and took two companies with him. Some men cursed, a few fell on the wet stones, but in ten minutes the ridge was secured.

  The rain stopped as fast as it came and, herded by the wind, the clouds broke, then shredded and flew overhead. It was day again.

  In the middle of the plain, the soldiers clustered around the carts, ten men to a cart. The water was up to their knees. Two harnessed themselves at the shaft, the other eight were grouped two by two at the wheels. Some carts moved immediately, some did not. The men cursed and pushed harder. It took them almost an hour to finish.

  “The dam will break soon.” Boldur pointed at the thing they had built a month before.

  It was not really a dam at first, just four poles, thirty foot long and thick as a man’s thigh, stuck six foot into the ground. There were two for each side of the ravine. When the rain stopped, the Mountes lowered thirty-foot long beams between the poles. Soon they formed a dam, stopping the furious water in its tracks. It was not a water-proof dam, but it didn’t need to be. Water was plentiful. A pool, five hundred feet long formed in the ravine.

  “We need to release the other side before this crumbles.” Boldur strained the huge muscles of his back. “You two, come and help me. And you,” he pointed to three Mountes who were almost as large as him.

  The ravine had two mouths, and the other one had been blocked by the Mountes at the end of Spring. It was similar to the first with the exception that the poles keeping the beams in place were only stuck two feet into the ground. This dam was better built, with skins between the beams to stop the water from flowing through. The poles were kept in place by one large beam, half way up, bearing two iron rings, the size of a man’s head, attached to it. One Mounte went down and passed a rope through them. He passed the ends of the rope up and climbed up. The four Mountes passed the rope behind their shoulders, two on each length.

  “One, two, now,” Boldur said, and they moved to pull the rope and the beam. They worked in short bursts. “One, two, now.” Each time Boldur said “now”, the beam moved slightly up on the side with the iron rings. “One, two, now.” The head of the beam was now half out from its place in the wall of the crevasse. “One, two, now.” The head of the beam sprang up. “We are done.” The four men were breathing hard, and they let the rope fell from their shoulders. It went down into the crevasse with the falling beam.

  At first, nothing seemed to move, and only the frowns on the men’s faces revealed that they were expecting something to happen. Then the top of the left-hand pole moved an inch. The men did not see it, but they heard the hard wood complaining with a muffled sound. The horizontal beams moved slightly too, and a thin stream of water flowed down. The pole was now moving slowly from its vertical position. Then it fell. The pressure of the water pushed the upper beams down. A waterfall formed and water surged down from the pool. With an astounding crack, the dam broke, and hell came down with the torrent.

  The wave swept away half of the fifty soldiers on the ridge overseeing the plain. The other half spread like chickens, running from the stream. Their screams reached the soldiers at the foot of the ridge just seconds before the water came down, sweeping away men and carts. All who were caught by the main stream were dragged into the middle of the plain. Some of them escaped. Almost none of those who wore armor stayed alive. In ten minutes, the pool from the ravine had exhausted its water, and the soldiers on the plain moved out toward the end of it, in the opposite direction from the castle. Most of them were walking on all fours, only their heads above the water. They looked like rats trying to flee a sinking ship. But they were not swimming, just crawling.

  “Form companies!” Pierre thundered as soon as he emerged from the water. It took him all his will to stand up. Almost half of his men were still down, in the water. “Move! Move! We could be attacked any time.”

  “Sir,” one soldier gasped.

  Pierre drew his sword before the man could finish. He turned. Codrin’s cavalry was coming from the forest like another deadly wave. I am so tired, Pierre thought. “Form companies. Turn!” he ordered, raising his sword. The men moved to form battle lines around him. Some of them had only daggers with which to defend themselves.

  In front of his men, Pierre was the only one giving a real fight. “Do we have spearmen?” he asked.

  “Only four,” said one man whose voice the Spatar could not recognize.

  “Give me the spears, one by one.” He grabbed the first spear, balanced it briefly, then made it fly with all his force, and Pierre was a strong man. It pierced the chest of the first rider. “Spear,” he grunted, and the second spear put down another man. From four spears, only one missed its target, as the skilled rider deflected it with his sword. “Someone, give me a shield.”

  The first incoming rider rose in his stirrups, sword poised to strike, and Pierre swung his shield up to deflect the blow. The impact pushed him one step back, and his shield was gone in splinters. Rocked back, the rider felt the strap breaking and, unable to redress, he slid down. Before the rider could stand, one man moved forward and planted a heavy axe in his head.

  By then, a second rider was attacking again, and his sword’s tip caught Pierre on his shoulder. Pain moved down his arm. I was lucky, Pierre thought, as he did not feel a hard wound. He ducked low, as the rider’s sword searched again for his head. Pierre’s long sword almost cut the bent rider in two. For ten long minutes, Pierre fought, and his soldiers rallied behind him. He was so exhausted that he’d begun to feel lazy. His head was throbbing, and when he brought his sword down upon a rider’s waist,
it seemed to descend in slow motion. It was then when Laurent’s column moved away, toward a band of disorganized soldiers.

  The rest of Codrin’s cavalry swept through the foot soldiers much like the flood before. It was a low-speed charge; the soil was wet and slippery, and that caused even more deaths. Some horses slipped and neighed in fear. Their riders fell. The other riders did not stop when they passed through the sieging army. They turned left, their horses in two feet of water, and exited the plain on the western side. Codrin rose in the saddle, and glanced to his left where Pierre was gathering his soldiers again. He pondered for a few moments, then canceled the second wave of the attack and pushed his horse toward the forest.

  The turmoil in Pierre’s camp continued for a while, but he whipped them into shape with his harsh words, and sometimes hit soldiers with the flat of his sword. They were now better prepared to fight against another charge. Standing still, their hands gripping cold iron, they waited.

  “You men at the back; break formation and take care of the dead,” Pierre said after a while. “Then see what you can salvage from our food.” Slowly, he stuck his sword into the ground and leaned on it. He’d taken blows, and beneath his mail ring, his body was darkening with bruises and contusions, and he was soaked in sweat, as if it were a sunny day.

  “They did not attack again. What happened?” Bucur asked.

  “The earth is slippery because of the rain, and even more so after the horses have trampled it. Codrin cares about his soldiers. I counted seventeen horses with no riders. That’s how many soldiers he lost during the charge. We lost many times more.” How could they select such a dumb man for a Candidate King? Pierre shook his head and ignored Bucur’s next question.