“Dirt!” The Tarina yelled over the noise of the confusion. “You must use dirt!” She grabbed the nearest man who she seemed to be in charge of the group and repeated the orders to him.
“You must hurry,” Grace said, but the man shook his head.
“We’re lost,” he shouted back. “They’re already over the wall,” he added and pointed farther in the direction the Tarina was headed. The man started toward a ladder and the town below but she grabbed him by the shirt and shook him slightly…he was very large.
“You stay and see to the wall…you stay on the wall. I will deal with anyone who makes it over,” she growled then without looking back to see if her orders were being carried out she ran across the burning section of wall. The heat was intense and she was forced to throw her arms up to protect her face, but once passed she quickly headed toward the west.
Within moments she came across a section of the wall that was indeed under attack. The men and women up top were fighting bravely; though it was clear the Knights outmatched them. Only a handful of Massi fighters were holding their own and most of these sported long pikes with which they skillfully kept the Knights at bay, but one…the woman, Cyndar Huntley was fighting with amazing skill and ferocity, especially since she was still nursing her injuries. As Tarina Grace pushed through a crowd of archers who were leaning over the walls firing steadily on the enemy below, she noticed that Cyndar was indeed fighting with both arms, though the kali in her left was only being used for defense…blocking and deflecting the blows coming her way.
Once passed the archers Grace saw why the ladders were having success in the area, the causeway in this section had not been fired, whether it was covered with oil she did not know.
“Oil!” She shouted to those below. “We need oil now!” She didn’t have the luxury of waiting to see if her order was being acted upon by those below because a pair of pike men nearly backed her off the wall as they retreated from a very aggressive Knight. He was slashing wildly in an attempt to clear a space for more of his fellow soldiers to gain access to the top.
“Move aside and watch my back,” Grace ordered and slipped between the two pike men, one of which was actually a middle aged woman, but despite her age and gender she handled her weapon fairly competently. They both made way. The Knight though clearly experienced and very brave, was not a Tar and it showed. He died within moments of his engagement with the Tarina.
“Get some oil up here,” Grace said shouting back to those below. She ignored the looks of awe in those near her…she was used to worship from commoners when it came to her fighting skills. In her opinion, commoners were easily impressed.
Tarina Grace leaned over the wall and frowned. There were already half a dozen ladders pinned up against the wall, but as she moved forward, a pair of pike men managed to send one ladder sliding down the face of the outer wall. About a dozen or so Knights were already on the top of the wall attempting to clear as much space as possible for the others who were climbing behind them. They were succeeding nicely and only Captain Huntley kept them from pushing farther to the west. Two Knights actually jumped to the ground below and tried to move to the main gate but they were cut off by a host of strong armed pike men.
Tarina Grace however, could not focus for long on the battle below because three Knights moved forward to intercept her. They approached somewhat cautiously having recognized her gray and blue robes, but they attacked as a group, which made them very dangerous, even for a Tar. Thankfully, the rampart was narrow which hindered their group effort, even still Grace had to ward off several close calls before she finally created an opening and stabbed completely through the left arm of one Knight and then sliced into the neck of his companion. The third Knight quickly retreated to where another soldier was climbing over the wall.
“Oil!” The Tarina yelled again to those behind her. She was about to yell again but then she heard pots shattering on the causeway below.
“Whoommphh!” Fire and smoke instantly belched high into the air and the Tarina knew that repeating the order was now unnecessary.
Both Knights in front of her were backing away slowly, avoiding the fight for the moment, but behind them Captain Huntley was being pressed to her limits and needed help quickly. Grace rushed the two in front of her and they panicked. One slashed forward and actually cut through the Tarina’s sleeve with the tip of his right kali before he lost his hand at the wrist. The man screamed, unnerving his fellow Knight who died because of the distraction, a kali through his heart. Grace then killed the wounded Knight and shoved him over the wall and with a quick glance saw another half dozen or so Knights were still on the ladders, climbing up swiftly to get away from the growing fire below. She killed the first, but couldn’t wait for more.
“Keep them off the top of the wall,” she yelled to the pike men, who were quickly repopulating the area then she turned and ran toward Huntley, who was down. She was lying on her back and frantically holding off the blades that were aimed at her prone body with the skill of the desperate. She even managed to slice through the lower leg of one man just as Tarina Grace rushed into the fight. Grace killed another but as she did Cyndar took a long sword through her side. Unfortunately for the Knight the tip of his weapon drove through the waist of the Massi Captain and deep into the wooden rampart and was momentarily stuck. Cyndar cried out and slashed at the hand holding the sword but missed. She did not have time to try again before the Tarina dispatched the unsuspecting man.
“Aaaaaggghhh,” Cyndar cried out, as she instinctively tried to move away from the weapon that impaled her, only dimly aware of the fact that the bitch from Noble was kneeling at her side.
“Be still,” the Tarina ordered as the Captain looked up at her with wild eyes. Grace examined the wound for just a moment. The sword penetrated only about an inch into her side, nasty but probably not lethal. The Tarina stood and quickly pulled the sword free of the planking and out of the injured woman’s side.
Cyndar screamed again and her hands immediately went to the wound.
“The wound is superficial, only through skin and muscle” Grace explained quickly to the Captain. “Get below and see to it,” she added then turned back to face more Knights as they managed to top the wall.
Three had made it successfully and were currently backing away from over a dozen pike men who were advancing like a hedgehog, spear points bristling. Grace leaned over the wall and saw the final causeway burning nicely, of the remaining Knights she saw nothing but suspected they had fallen to arrow fire for there were a number of dead at the base of the wall.
The clang of metal on metal brought her attention back to the fight before her and she killed two of the Knights backing her way before they were even aware of the greater threat coming at them from behind. The pike men dispatched the third with a rush of spear points.
“Huuuurrrraaaahhh!” the yell went up from the men as the last of the Knights fell. The Tarina glanced about but the immediate area was free of any threat. She looked down toward the main gate. The Knights managed to get a ram nearly across the causeway but it and the bridge below were now burning brightly. As far as she could see the gate was not under threat, nor could she see any problems beyond.
Making a quick decision, she bounded down a ladder to the ground and headed back to the section of wall that was engulfed with flames, but by the time she arrived the fire seemed to be contained, however a large section of wall was now in ashes.
“Huuuurrrraaaaahhhh!” She heard the shouts coming from atop the wall.
“What news?” She called loudly to a smiling Sergeant.
“The Knights are retreating from the attack,” he shouted down to her. “We’ve beaten them back.”
The Tarina nodded and continued down the wall inspecting the troops and the fortifications until she neared the spot where she’d initially climbed atop. Up ahead she saw a group of archers huddled close together directly below the ramparts, and when Tarina Grace worked her way through the cr
owd she saw Samantha lying in a heap, covered in dirt and ash.
X
On Gwaynn’s orders Captain Gaston departed Lynndon with slightly less than three thousand tough and eager cavalry men. He was happy to go…Lynndon was now a place of death and the smell was nearly overwhelming, but the Plateau’s defenses were secure since many of the peasants from the finger decided to stay and see the fight to the end. The population on the border with the Deutzani had grown tired of the constant threat to their country and felt compelled to fight back. Massi it seemed, was growing angry…very angry. There were now well over five thousand men and women camped around Bert’s up on the Plateau.
According to Speaker Sarbeth, Gwaynn and the rest of the Massi army were perhaps fifty miles to the southwest and drifting slowly toward the Scar. They were retreating cautiously before the Palmerrio, not wanting to engage until their cavalry arrived. Gwaynn was mindful of the Scar at his back, though they still had nearly twenty miles of open land in which to operate before being trapped against it. Gaston quickly decided to head straight south first before angling toward the west. The cavalry moved rapidly over the wide landscape, and ate up the miles, eager to join the army once more. The Plateau was ideal for horse warfare. It was flat, open and seemingly endless with few natural obstacles, though the landscape did contain the occasional gully, stream or wash.
Toward late afternoon on the first day out of Lynndon, a lone horseman suddenly appeared, riding fast toward them from the west. There was a bit of scrambling before the horseman was recognized as Patia Hawken, a long range scout. She rode through the ranks at top speed then pulled to a hard stop before Captain Gaston. He couldn’t help but smile at the eager young girl, who was no more than fifteen. She might be young and slight, but she was the fastest damned rider they had and a better than average tracker.
“It’s…it’s…the...Palmerrio cavalry,” she said while trying to catch her breath. Her face was flushed with excitement and from the exertion of riding hard, and her hair was damp with sweat. Gaston noticed she had little beads of perspiration running down the sides of her face leaving trails of clean skin that contrasted greatly with dust covered whole.
“Where?” He asked alarmed but with equal excitement. Patia was still breathing heavily and was gazing at him with her large hazel eyes. Suddenly she smiled.
“Ten miles due west…they’ve stopped for the night,” she said still gasping slightly. “They’ve stopped in a wash, near the center channel…looked to be the trickle of water that brought them in.”
“A wash? How many? How deep is the wash?” Gaston fired at her before she had time to even formulate one answer.
But when he finally had all the information he could glean from her, he smiled, moved his horse forward and grabbed her hand. Patia gazed up into her commander’s eyes and suddenly her heart was pounding all the more fiercely in her chest.
“Well done Patia!” He said and squeezed her hand so hard she felt pain, but she did not pull away. Captain Gaston was her dream. She answered his questions as quickly as she could and felt him squeeze her hand again, this time a bit softer. “Well done,” he repeated then released her and though her hand felt relief, her heart felt only loss. “Get to the rear and grab a fresh horse, rest while you can…I’ll have need of you later.” He smiled at her once more and Patia grinned back like a fool…but at the moment she was a happy fool. She urged her tired mount back along the long line of the Massi formation, happy and exhausted…and suddenly very hungry.
Gaston watched her go for a moment then turned back to Captain Kerr and Captain Marcum. With the Deutzani threat gone, and Lynndon now under the watch of a mass of civilian soldiers, Marcum insisted on joining up even though his skills on a horse were suspect.
“Sergeant Birdsong can handle Lynndon…I think the town’s days of war are numbered in any case,” Marcum explained, but Gaston did not argue…he was glad to have his oldest friend along for the ride.
“Four thousand!” Gaston exclaimed excitedly…this must be the main contingent of Palmerrio cavalry…if they could surprise them…
“Sergeant! Pull in the patrols…and send another scout up ahead, have him take Sarbeth, and tell Speaker Wynth to join us. We don’t want to get caught unaware,” Gaston ordered. “Let’s move forward carefully…I want to hit them right at dusk.”
The ride across the Plateau was easy and uneventful. The afternoon sky was crowded with puffy white clouds but showed no hint of rain, and a cool breeze was blowing from the north. Scouts from all directions reported the way clear. When they were perhaps a mile out from the wash the column of men and horses came to a stop and Speaker Wynth slowly went through the process of contacting Speaker Sarbeth.
“The Palmerrio are camping down in the wash, spread out to maybe a quarter of a mile; they’re horses are corralled in the center.” Sarbeth reported through the bubble once contact was made. “The wash is perhaps two hundred feet across and relatively shallow, but that the Palmerrio have no scouts on the eastern side…but there are a number of scouts roaming to the west.”
Gaston smiled broadly at Kerr and Marcum. “They are hunting for Gwaynn and the army.”
Kerr smiled back but Marcum just scowled. “Fools for not watching all flanks,” he spat. Marcum had little tolerance for carelessness and stupidity.
“Yes…what threat could possibly come from the east?” Gaston answered sarcastically, his mood growing increasingly bright.
“We attack in three sections,” Gaston said, eager for the fight and suddenly all business. “I’ll take the center; Captain Kerr, you take the right and Marcum will take the left.”
Gaston noticed Captain Kerr’s look of hesitation, and nearly smiled. “Captain Marcum may sit a horse like a whore after a record night, but he’s the best soldier in the cavalry…and that would include me!”
“Yes Sir,” Kerr answered, a touch embarrassed, but he smiled nonetheless.
“I’m no whore,” Marcum grumbled.
“See to Sergeant Pearson,” Gaston replied, reaching out and gripping the older man’s hands firmly. “He’ll show you to your men. We move forward at a walk and wait for my signal to charge…be careful, be quiet.”
The two men looked at one another for a long moment, Marcum wondering at the miracle that created Gaston the man from Gaston the boy. It happened so fast…but then war had a way of speeding up the process.
The Massi lines stretched for nearly a half a mile with only slight gaps between formations, and unbelievably they were still undetected when they increased their speed to a trot. The sun was just kissing the mountains to the west, lighting up the clouds in a spectacular display of reds, purples and oranges. No one noticed. At a half a mile out the trot became a cantor…still no alarm sounded from the enemy camp. Finally, a lone soldier on the eastern bank, looking for a private place to relieve his bladder, spotted the Massi horseman. He shouted a warning but by then the Massi were thundering down toward him at a gallop. And though a moment before the Palmerrio soldier was nearly dancing with need, the urge suddenly left him. He spun and headed rapidly back down the bank, his only thought now was getting to his weapons and climbing on his mount.
The center with Gaston broke instantly into a full out charge, shouting out in triumph and the left and right wings quickly matched the pace. They hit the eastern side of the wash without a single arrow being fired by the enemy and when Gaston himself reached the shallow bank he saw why. Every Palmerrio in sight was running, panic stricken, toward the large herd of horses corralled in the center of the gulley near a small, slowly moving stream. Without hesitation Captain Gaston and the bulk of those in his vicinity instinctively charged the enemy horses. They were the key, deny the Palmerrio their mounts and they were doomed. The Massi knew it and the Palmerrio knew it.
As Gaston and his group charged the enemy horses a few brave Palmerrio still afoot stopped to fight, but they were quickly cut down, lanced or trampled for their bravery and as more and more Massi horsema
n cleared the bank the fight in the wash became a massacre. The Palmerrio soldiers, like their Massi counterparts were trained to fight on horseback. On foot and taken by surprise, they were disorganized, unprepared and for all practical purposes unable to put up any kind of stiff resistance. However in all battles, no matter how one sided, there is death and injury on both sides, but as the Palmerrio cavalrymen melted into the sand they took surprisingly few Massi with them. It was over before it was completely dark and less than an hour from the charge no Palmerrio was left alive in the wash and very few escaped out into the empty Plateau.
ǂ
“How soon before the Rhondono are ready to sail?” Hothgaard asked through the Speaker Nadler. He needed the siege troops and the engineers of King Donnis even though he thought of the Rhondono’s army as second class.
‘With the support of the Temple Knights, they will be enough,’ the Captain thought.
“We should be ready in three days,” the High King answered, concerned by his Captain’s demeanor. The Captain of the Knights had never asked for aid before, but then they were seldom asked to lay siege to a city alone and without support.
“We?”
“I’ll be coming to Massi as well,” King Mastoc said without a hint of nervousness in his voice.
“That’s not advisable M’lord,” Hothgaard answered, alarmed. “The plains of Massi are still unsecured. The Massi cavalry are roaming about the lands.”
“You have not eliminated them?”
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