Iron Edge

by P. S. Power

  “This is new. Normally they just run in or away. This is a marching formation. We need to get our men out for their special task.” That wasn’t up to him, but Captain Herret was moving out on foot with a group of men behind him. It was smaller than planned, being about ten men, rather than twenty. Probably due to the fact that the others had simply refused the order and Herret hadn’t had time to kill them over it. If he had, then, honorable or not, there would be more men going that way at the moment.

  The real shock was that nine of them had volunteered to go and do it, even knowing that it wasn’t going to make them look all that great later. Then again, there was a great battlefield tradition that could be used to fix that part of things. Lying. If they won, or even died in battle, it would be easy enough to tell the world about how they’d gone into direct combat with the mighty Wizards and their thousand-man guard retinue. The men on the battle line wouldn’t even naysay that part, since most of them would be far too distracted to look that far back.

  Grimacing he shook his head.

  “I should have gone. What I wouldn’t do for a sniper rifle right now. That, or a Wizard of our own.”

  They could get Regina to help them aim. He could try it with a bow, but arrows only moved so far. Still, that was worth trying. They could aim the catapults in the right direction if nothing else.

  “I need to find my wife.” That probably sounded strange and several of the men nearby, who were close to what was going on, looked at him funny. Like he was crying for his mommy.

  One of the men who’d been pulling the ropes grunted, still a bit out of breath.

  “The Witch? She was over near the weapons wagon. I could run to her, if you need, Captain.”

  He stopped for a bit, but before he could nod, noticed her walking toward them. Probably having understood that he needed her. She was in a gray dress, her tan boots covered with mud. In her hands was a spear, which reminded him to pick up his own. He’d set that and the shield down near the wooden structure. The bow and arrows as well.

  Regina, looking nice, if not as sharp faced as she did in Springfield, waved as she approached.

  “You want the location of the Wizards and their leader? The men here know the plan?”

  They didn’t but she knew that, he didn't doubt. The plan seemed about letting them know what was coming. It would, he was certain, probably be intense.

  As they turned to him, George smiled.

  “Right. The idea is to get their Wizards to attack these beasts. Rather than our fighters. So, if anything starts to happen, you’ll all need to be ready to run. The problem there is…” He knew the answer, but one of the others, a ginger haired man, nodded, seeing the issue as well.

  His freckled face shone a bit. Interestingly he didn't seem as scared as the rest of the men did.

  “Aye. We have to stand to reload. They might not bite the bait on the first round. Even the second might not be enough. So, we go until something happens, but that could mean being the focus of the magic when it comes.”

  No one seemed happy to hear that, but George nodded about it. Right was right, after all.

  “Exactly. Worse, they might attack right at the start, as soon as they can see us. In that case, we might not even get a single shot off. We need them distracted and tired.” He glanced at his wife, then Captain Renner.

  What he said next was correct, but kind of hard to tell these innocent boys. They were that, except the man in charge. If any of them were twenty, he’d have been surprised. Two of the five there with him weren’t sixteen, he was willing to bet. There was a job to do though, and they needed to be ready for it.

  “If we can’t stop the Wizards, then we have to stop the new weapon they have. It will be carried by several men, on a litter. Polls on the shoulders. If it gets within a hundred feet of our fighting line, it will…” He didn't know how to explain it to them. Stena didn’t really have explosions. Not even gun powder.

  Regina was clever enough to work that out for him however. Her voice wavered a tiny bit, in fear of the coming battle.

  “It will create a fireball, like what a Wizard uses, but huge. Enough to kill hundreds of men at one time. More than that, possibly. They have four of the things. We can’t let them reach the line.” She held her head, tears coming to her eyes then.

  Probably working out what he had in mind.

  “We can’t let it reach our fighting line. If it looks like it might, we have to stop it. By any means necessary. If we fail, not only soldiers die, but a great war will come to Stena. One of magic and death, the likes of which no one has ever seen before here.” Glancing around, he nodded, since more men were paying attention to him suddenly, even if they’d been distracted before. “So, if that starts to happen, I’ll lead you men here into the thick of it. We have to stop the bomb, the weapon, from getting close to us. Their Wizards are needed to set it off. Four weapons, four Wizards. Possibly more than that, on the magic side. We have only our will and skill over here.”

  One of the boys, who was very young seeming, shook his head.

  “Don’t go into the army, she said. You’ll end up dead in a ditch, with crows eating your eyes, she said.” He seemed a bit annoyed, but grinned ruefully. “I do love to prove my mother wrong. If we can work that out it would be great.”

  The kid was dark haired and had brown eyes. He was lean and hard though, dressed for war in the same mail armor as everyone else. George didn’t have that on and had no way to get any in time. Still, if he wasn’t willing to run into the point of the spear, he shouldn’t send anyone else to do it.

  “Let’s go with that plan then. We need to prove this man’s mother wrong, by not dying. Still, if we have to give our lives, then we do it. Agreed?” It was too much to ask scared men.

  One of them laughed, then whooped. It was loud and too forced, but the idea was the right one. Getting everyone to act as a group, scared or not.

  “For Stena!”

  That was answered, from the surrounding men. Even Regina joined in, not that he could hear her. They did it again, just as the fur dressed men from the south came into view.

  “For Stena!”

  Then they started to chant. If it had any effect on the men coming into view was impossible to tell. They kept going though, nerves pushing them to be loud and boisterous. Edgy, but hiding their fear behind bravado. A lot of them were going to die that day, after all. Possibly most of them.

  He spoke softly, his face blank. He wasn’t trained for this war, in particular. What he could do was watch his new and unexpected wife. Regina winked at him.

  “Nearly, husband. That last clutch of men, all in dyed blue? Those are the Wizards. Your friends are making their way toward them, and will wait until after you get them to exert themselves the first time. They need to get to the bottom of the tree line there. On the right?”

  He measured the path, and then nodded.

  “Ready to load the catapults. It should be in about ten minutes.” They couldn’t leave them set for long, since that lowered the power in the wooden spring. They were good for about fifty shots, then had to be retired. Normally as firewood. They could splinter before that of course, but after that they’d be nearly useless anyway. Not that they’d get to nearly that many volleys that day. If they made ten, he’d be shocked.

  Next to him the Sergeant, the old man for the group, called out.

  “Ready to arm! Ready to arm!” He bellowed the words, which got everyone on the other war weapons to stand by. Actually, everyone did, which was a bit outside of George’s personal command zone. He was supposed to just listen to the Major in charge. Helpfully the man in charge nodded, behind them.

  The call was given again.

  More officially this time.

  “Ready to arm!”

  The mass of people, fur clad barbarians that wanted their lives, their women and their riches, moved toward them. Their numbers dwarfed by the men from Stena. If god preferred big armies, then the Tollan had come to
play in the wrong place.

  The problem there, a thing that George knew better than most, was that God also loved really great weapons. As the blue clutch of men, wearing robes, since stereotypes were there for a reason, reached the trees, or nearly so, he waved.

  “Arm the catapults.”

  The call went up then, as if he were the one in command. That was going to be a problem later, but he was the one that knew what to do. Again, the Major nodded, then had the call repeated. The Tollan were close, the bombs visible in the third rank. Settled behind two lines of spear wielding men.

  Interestingly, they seemed to be just walking up, instead of using their little bows first.

  “Because they don’t have the range. Ready bows?” He was asking a question, but it got screamed in a more authoritarian manner.

  Again, the Major called that out, without getting anything from the Generals. The old men were in the back, but just waved, then called out. One of the interesting things about the Stenic armed forces was that everyone was a trained archer, instead of being specialized troops. Even he’d gotten practice that way, over the last half year. Before that as well, if not that often. Weapons masters had to know how to use anything as a weapon, after all. It was kind of their thing.

  The official orders started then, coming from the rear of the twenty thousand men, being relayed by screaming, as the traditional pipes, brass horns, started to play.

  “Nock arrow!” His Sergeant, a man who he didn't have a name for, called that out as well.

  “Pull!”

  “Aim!”

  “Release!”

  A hail of death rained down on the men in their fur and leather armor. They had shields, but they were made of hide which didn’t totally protect them from the iron edge that fell on them. In a way, George understood something then. They, the forces there, were the point of the spear for the land behind them. If they failed, Stena might survive, but it would be much harder than it should be.

  They did it all again, since they each had at least twenty arrows. If the barbarians wanted to kill them, they’d have to walk into the jaws of the trap first. Not all of the men hit fell, of course. The arrows could kill, but could and did were often different things. On the fourth wave, he noticed that the Wizards had stopped and were waiting for something.

  “Target the men in blue, in the back. Do you see them?” George waited, but the Sergeant had good enough eyes, so called that one out.

  “Target on the blue! Target on the blue! Tree line on the back!”

  When it moved back to the Generals, who were in on the basic plan, if not all of it, the order to fire came back. All four of the catapults missed. Theirs, having problems moving side to side was the worst one, too, dropping a large stone in the middle of the enemy line. Most of the Tollan just skipped out of the way of the thing, and jeered at them. It was a bit derisive, but they could put up with that.

  “Reload and fix the aim.” That required hard pulling at the ropes and some help from the men around them. The ones that far back weren’t going to see battle for a few hours, most likely. Except that magic was at play.

  When they fired again, all of them at once, they managed a pure stroke of luck. One of the nice round stones, from one of the other weapons, rolled along the hill, and aimed itself directly into the crowd of blue colored Wizards. They all got out of the way, but it probably pushed at them.

  Regina gasped when that happened.

  “Ah! There we go, their spell of confusion over the future broke! Husband, we need to do that again. More arrows as well. Can anyone hit the bomb on the left there? With fire?” That wasn’t happening from where they were standing, but after a bit of explanation and calling out, a quarter of the men on the far side tried it, about ten of them managing to wrap oiled rags around their arrow tips. The things flew like crap then, but one of them did indeed hit the wooden case. Which caught first, as the men holding the thing dropped it, probably looking for some water.

  The problem there was that it broke open, not being contained in metal, which was a mistake. The explosion made the world shake and sent debris down on them all, mainly bits of dirt and earth, but the men in that section of the battlefield, on the other side, were either dead, injured or so dazed that they just stood there as another volley of arrows came at them. After that, though the trick was tried again with the other bombs, nothing that spectacular happened.

  Not until a hail of stones, each about the size of a grown man’s tightly clenched fist, started to slam down on the battle line on their side. Not all of it, but it was hovering over the wooden catapult on the left. That team, holding shields over their head, fired again, all on their own, nearly hitting the Wizards for a second time.

  That got the others to get ready, but the Wizards didn’t fall for the bait. On the great side, clearly getting that, Captain Herret and his team started to close with them on the right, coming from cover. Probably going to their deaths.

  Regina moved in and shouted at him, clutching her head. Not in pain, but to signal that she wasn’t just making things up or seeing a problem logically. It was her sign that magic was at play inside of her.

  “Marcus needs a distraction!” She touched her head again, slapping at it, as if he wasn’t going to get how she knew that. The problem was that nothing they did was going to work just then. He didn’t think. Well, one thing might, but it was insanely stupid.

  Still, that was clearly his job there, that day. The idiotic things, so he nodded, put his spear down and then pulled his sword. It was the lesser weapon, but made more of a statement. As he walked toward the open area between the forces, he lifted the thing high, then pointed it at the Tollan. Trying to be dramatic. No one even tried to shoot him with an arrow, which shocked him.

  “You! You cowards who hide and run, instead of standing to battle. You, who rape the innocent, too afraid to court them lest you be rejected! Come, send out your champion and face me! I am George Elder. A simple man of Stena! Have any of you the courage?” he yelled it several times. It would have had a lot more effect if he’d known their language of course. On the good side, all eyes were on him, not the men coming up from the woods. Not yet.

  From behind him came a cheer, which was different than he would have expected. Mainly because he didn't think anyone there would understand what was needed. They got it however. Enough of them to get the others on board with the plan.

  “Elder… Elder… Elder…”

  It was spoken nearly as one, by thousands of voices. On the good side the High General would know who to bust down to Private for the grandstanding. That or toss in prison. They didn’t do that very often in Stena, but he’d heard that the jails weren’t all that nice.

  Interestingly, instead of one giant man from the combat lines, he got eleven good sized but otherwise ordinary fellows. It was a bit unfair, but they didn’t run at him all at once or anything. The man who got there first just sneered at him, his uniquely blond beard matted with blood already.

  “You… die.” Then they fought.

  It didn’t take long. The trick there was that George was armed with good hard steel. The plainsman had bronze, it seemed. It simply couldn’t hold up and when it broke on the ground he took the first head. The second was a bit less able than the first, but took more time, since the man postured and ranted first, walking around, yelling something.

  Hopefully his funeral instructions. He died almost instantly after all.

  The next four were all better, having learned to be wary and the last few did different things. For instance, on the tenth man, he burst into flame as he attacked, a wall of death exploding around him. George dodged back, burnt by the Wizard fired plasma attack. The last man just gave him a scared look and fled, running back to his line.

  George raised his sword then, and howled.

  “Stena!”

  The world, above him answered in kind.

  “Stena!”

  He didn’t run, or even turn his back, since sever
al of the enemy decided that trying to shoot him with arrows was the right plan. They weren’t wrong at all. Just late, given that they would have been better off doing that when he first walked out yelling like a crazy man. He moved slowly, which hopefully looked brave, since his limping feet could only allow for so much at the moment. When he was close enough to the line, the arrows from their side rained down again. There were still three bombs left, but when he looked the Wizards were gone.

  Except the leader, who was in the center of the whole thing. He was far away, but large and powerful seeming, sitting on a litter that was raised above those around him. He wore fur, it seemed, but in gray and white, not the brown that the rest of them had. He was older looking here, having a wispy gray beard, and it was impossible to tell if he were supposed to be the same man that had cast the fireball at him in the other world. A cry went up anyway, and one of the six man teams tried to rush in with their bomb. This time when the fire arrows hit the case it was in, they didn’t stop. Even arrows weren’t working, though that slowed them down a lot.

  The ginger kid from earlier sighed, then shook his head.

  “Fuck. You know, this just figures. Well, I guess we’re up?”

  He sounded pretty casual, considering several of the others looked ready to wet themselves. George nodded.

  “Let’s? I’m sure that those nice men will put the weapon down if we ask politely enough.” That got a laugh, which was the point of saying it.

  Regina shook her head, holding it again.

  “No… This… use the archers. Then… There will be an attack. Magic. I can’t describe it. Big.” What she did manage to do just then was seem scared. Incredibly so.

  They arranged for the archers to target the moving case, which ended up on the ground just past the front line of the attacking forces. If it were detonated there, then more of the enemy was going to die than they were. As if getting that, the leader of the other side stood up on his raised platform, then held a staff up into the air, making gestures with his other hand.