Strength of Swords (First Cohort Book 2)

by M. R. Anthony

  “I think my balls are going to freeze off,” I overheard one man say. I worried about what was to come and whether this chill was going to be something they’d be feeling forever onwards.

  Away from our field and across the road was another field. Unlike ours, this one was on level ground, but covered in the same thick grass. We had a clear view as fifty-one horsemen trotted lazily down a far hillside and entered this other field. I couldn’t make out all the details, but the horses were near black, and the armour the riders wore was black as well. I remembered this armour to be mostly leather in origin, in sympathy to the animals. There were plumed helmets, of course. I wondered if there was a cavalryman anywhere in the world that didn’t wear one, pretentious bastards that they were. They came towards us as if they had all the time in the world, though I was sure they didn’t wish to be held up in the north for any longer than they could avoid. There’d be people to murder in Blades or Ranks that they’d likely prefer to return to.

  “Justiciars AND cavalry all rolled into one,” said Sinnar cheerfully. “Does it get any better than that?”

  “Cocky bastards, aren’t they?” said a nearby man from Lieutenant’s Faye’s contingent. I didn’t recognize his face.

  “It makes it all the more fun when they shit themselves before they die,” said Sinnar, raising his voice so that the man could hear.

  Eventually, the horsemen stopped, almost a hundred yards away from us. I had no idea which one was Lord Trent, since he didn’t seem brave enough to differentiate himself from his men. This was a shame, since I’d have definitely tried my hardest to have him killed immediately. As it was, I had to rely on luck.

  “Lieutenant Faye, can you have your archers shoot at those men?” I asked. She had sixty or so men who had come from our fight in the town of Treads. They’d been assigned to her command.

  Bows were unslung and arrows lifted from quivers by trembling fingers. Before they could draw and fire, I became aware that the vanguard of the Duke’s army had arrived. We were high enough on our hill to see them emerge from where the road dipped behind another slope over half a mile away. They were four abreast across the road, which meant the men at the rear were still several minutes’ walk behind them.

  The men with bows stuck to their task, which I’m sure was made more difficult by this recent distraction. Upon Faye’s word, they fired. A little over sixty arrows flew into the sky, making their distinctive whip noise through the air as they left the bow strings. As soon as they were released, I guessed that they’d do no good. I couldn’t imagine that Lord Trent would be ignorant to the range of a longbow, nor did it seem likely he’d lived this long if he willingly entered the range of archers without some sort of protection.

  I was right. The arrows flew over our own lines and dropped towards the horsemen. The Treads archers weren’t an elite unit, but they knew how to fire a bow and how to hit a target as large as a horse from such a close range. Not one of their arrows hit home, being deflected at the last moment by what I assumed was an invisible shield projected by the riders.

  Ploster was nearby. I liked to have him with me during battle, since his talents could turn a probable defeat into a victory if used wisely. He was already concentrating and I could feel that he was testing the magical barrier.

  “I can’t remove it,” he said through gritted teeth. “Alone they are weak, with the exception perhaps of Trent himself. Fifty of them together are more than I can disrupt.”

  “How did you manage it against the Duke?” I asked, reminded of a question I’d meant to ask him weeks ago.

  “I got lucky,” he said. For some reason, I got the impression he was withholding something. It wasn’t the time to pursue it.

  Our lady wasn’t too far from me and I headed in her direction - I’d had a thought that I wanted to speak to her about. Before I got there, I heard screams from our front ranks and though I wasn’t able to see exactly what was happening, I had seen mageflame often enough to realise that Lord Trent’s men were using it against Faye’s men. The greasy smoke of burning flesh and fat filled the air about forty yards away from me and I saw the back lines inch up the hill as the men tried their best to avoid being injured by their burning fellows.

  I checked again to see how far the enemy’s closest footmen were and did some fast calculations. I ran back to Lieutenant Sinnar. “Take our first rank forward at full run. See if you can drive Trent away before he can whittle away at our numbers and morale.”

  “Aye, Captain,” he said over his shoulder. He was already on his way to give the orders.

  I made haste to our lady, reaching her just as Sinnar’s detachment – eighty men – ran at a full sprint over the field towards the smugly-waiting cavalry. There were more screams from close by as Trent’s sorcerers picked their targets at random, trying their best to split us apart before the foot soldiers had even arrived.

  “My lady,” I said to her. “Can you destroy their shield?”

  “I can, but I will not,” she said, sadly.

  I remembered our conversation not long after we’d defeated another one of the Duke’s armies inside the walls of Treads. At the time, she’d told me the words I’d wanted to hear – that if she used her magic to overcome every obstacle, her men would come to rely upon it. Then, the victories would no longer belong to them, but to this young lady who was meant to be a figurehead to help the people take charge of their own destiny, rather than the one who won the battles for them.

  I watched Sinnar’s men as we spoke. His eighty covered the ground quickly, drawing the attention of Lord Trent’s men. A few of the horsemen tried to burn the charging infantry. I could see patterns of wards glowing upon the skin of my men as they shrugged off the magics. Smoke poured from one man – I couldn’t see who – and he faltered, before regaining his footing and setting off again. I guessed that many of Trent’s men were familiar with our resistances and they continued to ignite the easier targets in Lieutenant Faye’s lines. The bowing of her line continued and I heard her voice shouting above the clamour.

  As my men came closer, Sinnar several paces ahead and without a shield, the horseman wheeled around and cantered off – not directly away from us, but parallel to our front lines, so they could continue their attack. Sinnar harried them, seemingly unworried by the magics they threw in his direction. For a moment, I was concerned that the bloodlust had overcome him and that it might blind him to the needs of his situation. I should not have worried and he drew the men up short and began to lead them towards our field at a run. Predictably, the horsemen turned to follow, keeping pace but not charging.

  “My lady,” I whispered. “If you remove the magics of those horsemen, there will be none here the wiser that you have done it.”

  “Except for you and the twelve men around me,” she answered softly.

  “We must talk about this later, my lady. It is possible for you to use your powers to inspire a great victory, without the credit belonging entirely to you. Inspiration is what a leader brings, but without taking away from what her men have done.”

  “Very well,” she replied thoughtfully. “I will remove their barrier. Have the archers ready to fire.”

  Lieutenant Faye was occupied with keeping her men steady. I ran to the archers, who looked worried - their unit had not as yet suffered the pain inflicted upon the other men.

  “Draw your bows,” I said to them, loudly and calmly. “We’re going to have another go at those bastards, as soon as they stop chasing Lieutenant Sinnar.”

  The archers looked uncertain, but did as they were told without question. As I’d thought, Trent’s men had no intention to engage Sinnar in hand-to-hand and were just following to taunt us for our inability to touch them. I scanned their numbers, hoping to spot which of them was issuing the commands, but their leader still didn’t give himself away. Lieutenant Sinnar and his men entered our field again, and didn’t slow down until they’d returned to their positions on our flank. I felt it then – a surge of po
wer flashed out from the Saviour, accompanied by a gusting of the air. I had always been sensitive, but this was as clear as day to me and I wondered how much my manipulation of Gagnol’s life essence had affected me, since none of the other soldiers seemed to have noticed.

  “Fire!” I said, clearly enough for my voice to carry over the nearby screams of the dying.

  Drawstrings twanged and arrows flew. They flitted into the distance, dropping like black streaks into the gathered horsemen. This time there was success and I saw more than a dozen horses fall, spilling their riders onto the field. Other missiles found men rather than beasts, and shafts appeared suddenly in the flesh of at least fifteen of Trent’s numbers. Their cockiness was gone and they raced in several directions away from us, with several of their number leaning out of their saddles as they tried desperately to cling on with arrows piercing their innards. Those who had been unhorsed scrambled to their feet, just as another volley of arrows landed amongst them.

  Their thoughts of sorcery were gone and they had to listen to three thousand cheering men, mocking them as they tried to escape. An even louder cheer went up as Ploster burned two of those who had been pitched from their saddles, and we watched them stumble around blindly as the flames burned out their eyes and charred the flesh to their bones. I was pleased to see that we didn’t break ranks and attempt to give pursuit. Sometimes it’s a soldier’s lot to just stand there helplessly as his enemy escapes.

  When the excitement was over, I estimated that Trent had lost at least half of his men. Some of those were probably still alive, but without their horses. The horsemen gathered at the far side of the field over three hundred yards away. I smiled at our lady and she nodded back. Then, I made haste to the First Cohort. The foot soldiers of Warmont’s army had begun to file into the field opposite, from where I assumed they intended to attack us. I considered a brief foray to disrupt their preparations, but it would give a quick-thinking commander a chance to catch us out of formation by splitting his troops and coming over the wall to attack in the place we’d taken the men away from. It was one of those risks I wasn’t prepared to take and didn’t need to worry about. There were other considerations for the moment, though only petty ones.

  “Shooter,” I said, speaking to one of the First Cohort’s archers. Eagle was the other, but it was Shooter who had the black bow that could send an arrow eighty yards further than any other longbow.

  “Which one do you want me to hit?” he asked, arrow already nocked.

  “See that man who’s doing all the waving of his arms? I reckon it’s an evens chance that it’s Trent. Why don’t you see if you can surprise him?” I asked.

  “It’s a long shot and he’s moving around quite a bit,” replied the soldier, already drawing a bead on the man in question.

  There were evil chuckles around us. We liked the spectacle of an unsuspecting horseman taking an arrow in the throat. It was all the men would talk about around the campfire when Shooter pulled off a good kill and it made him something of a celebrity in our unit.

  He drew. His arms were long and thin, but he could pull his bow as tight as any other man I’d seen and hold it for longer. The wood bent with hardly a creak and we all froze as Shooter held his pose for a moment. The archers from Faye’s section looked over with more than a passing interest.

  Shooter released the string, the tension from the bow whipping the arrow from his curled fingers. There was a blur, briefly visible, before it became lost against the background of the overcast sky. The heads of more than two hundred men moved, following the arrow along its imagined arc as it sailed towards its target. There was a twang as Shooter sent another on the same course.

  We didn’t hear the sound, but far over yonder, the man we were watching stiffened and arched his back. I wondered if the arrow had struck him a glancing blow, but then a second one took him in the temple and he fell over. The first arrow had pierced his side, but the black shaft had been indistinguishable from the colour of his breastplate until he’d toppled. There was another cheer as the man slumped over the neck of his horse. The beast made off at a gallop towards the town and we soon lost sight of where it had gone.

  Those closest to Shooter clapped him on the back. Some of Faye’s archers applauded enthusiastically for the skill in his shot, while a few of the others stared enviously at the bow. Shooter slung the bow around his shoulder again and settled down with his shield. He could have landed a few more arrows in the approaching footmen, but there was little point in it. We used him for the shots that mattered.

  Our enemy kept on coming, while we stood and watched. Trent’s men had burned over a hundred from our centre, but Faye’s archers had taught them to stay out of range. Whoever the commander of the foot soldiers was, he was good. I’d earlier dismissed the option of a surprise attack against them and chewed my lip as I thought about it further. Unfortunately, the enemy soldiers left the road some distance away from us and walked over the level ground until they could enter the opposite field at the far side. They were tantalising close, but not so close that I wanted to throw men at them to see what would happen.

  I ambled over to Lieutenant Craddock. “Who do you reckon they’ve got?” I asked.

  “I’m not sure, Captain,” he said. “I’ve been trying to figure it out by their formation. They’re neat and tidy, but nothing unusual that might give it away.”

  “Sometimes I think it would be easier if there’d been five Bonecrunchers. That way I’d know what to expect every time.”

  He laughed. “And we’d get the pleasure of cutting him to pieces more than once.”

  Bonecruncher had been hard and brave. In reality we were both glad that we’d never have to see the bastard looming above a battleground again.

  “Leerfar?” I asked. “I didn’t get to see that much of her style in Gold.”

  Craddock scratched at an imaginary itch on his chin. “I don’t think so, Captain. She was slow to react and messy in her implementation. I’d be happy if I knew she was in charge today.”

  I knew it wasn’t Leerfar, even before I’d asked the question. Sometimes you just have to say a thing which you know isn’t true in the hope that it’ll lead you on to the answer. Lord Trent wasn’t their leader, since he was widely detested, even by his own side. We’d killed off most of the other possibilities, so I could only hope that Warmont had trusted one of his human commanders with this one. At least then we’d know that a single sword thrust would be sufficient to kill them.

  Our lady called me to her side and I left Craddock’s company, with a sudden bad feeling. She had a look on her face that suggested to me that she was about to say something she imagined I wouldn’t like. I was correct, which informed me that I knew her better than I thought I did.

  “Captain Charing,” she said, furrowing her brow and pretending to stare into the distance.

  “Yes, my lady?” I enquired.

  “It seems to me that the Duke’s men may not be willingly fighting for their now-dead master.”

  “There are probably many who aren’t.” I also pretended to look at something in the distance.

  “From here, I am unable to reach them. The range is too great. However, if we were to meet somewhere closer to the middle, under a flag of truce, I might be able to affect some of their closer units.”

  “You mean we should pretend that we are going to surrender in order to get ourselves close enough to sway a few of their wavering soldiers?” I asked.

  “Not quite, Captain. We should ask them to surrender. I will not be diverted from my path.”

  I smiled at her gumption, but was not overly keen on the underlying plan. Nevertheless, I knew when her mind was made up. In the opposite field, it looked as though almost two-thirds of the enemy had gathered. They’d formed up in defensive squares, with their shields ready to use at a moment’s notice. It was how an experienced, but overly-cautious commander might deploy his men, since there was little chance we’d attack them from our superior, elevate
d position.

  “When they’re almost in place, we’ll go forward with twenty men,” I said.

  “Agreed,” she replied.

  We waited, though she betrayed no sign of nerves. In fact, I could feel her energy coursing through me as she pulled and pushed at the fabric of power, testing possibilities and ideas. I was reassured – at least she wasn’t planning to put herself at risk without taking steps to look after her safety.

  There is usually a period when two sides have mustered where they will face each other for an indeterminate amount of time. The opposing commanders will each have their own rituals and checks to go through, nerves to contend with and so on. Eventually, one of the two will crack and make the first move. Usually it’s the strongest party that attacks first. Although we were definitely on the weaker side, I was sure there’d still be time to approach under a flag of truce, and so it was.

  By the time the last of their men had filed inside, the opposite field was a hive of activity and manoeuvring. This activity increased markedly when a group of us made our way to the road between our two positions. One of our lady’s bodyguards was now holding a white flag as well as her personal banner. Ploster was with us, as was I and three hand-picked men from each of Lieutenant Faye and Trovis’ men. We didn’t want them to feel left out.

  “Their leader’s in amongst that group over there,” I said, pointing towards their rear. “You can’t make them out clearly – they probably have a sorcerer working to produce a shimmer in the air.”

  “I’ll have a look through their veil,” our lady said with confidence. I glanced up at her, where she still rode in the saddle. She wore a frown. “Odd,” she said. “I can’t get through it.”

  That should have set the alarm bells ringing, and it did. “What does that mean?” I asked. “Surely you should be able to brush away the magics they have available to them? Even if Lord Trent and all of his men worked in tandem at it.”