The Hordes of Chanakra (Knights of Aerioch)

by David L Burkhead

  Kreg asked, "Will he be obeyed?"

  "Aye." Marek turned his attention to the approaching forces. "He wears my symbol and all know he speaks with my voice."

  "How much longer?" Kreg's wave indicated the Schahi.

  Marek studied the approaching army for a moment before answering. "Methinks about two candles."

  Shading his eyes from the bright afternoon sky, Kreg studied Marek's lines. They had arranged themselves as he had suggested. On the right wing, in the front line, he saw a knight whose surcoat caught his eye: red with a white chevron between three gold stars.

  Kreg wallowed a few moments in self-recrimination. Any feelings for Kaila, he told himself, were stupid, hopeless. With one hand he wiped at his eyes. Dust, he thought. It must be the dust.

  Kreg bit into a piece of cheese as he continued to survey the army below. Pages ran among the soldiers carrying cheese, bread, bowls of porridge, and flasks of watered wine. The army would be rested and well-fed while the Schahi would be hot, tired, and probably hungry. Or would they be hungry? Shillond had said that the changeling armies would require only as much food as the animals they had come from. Small animals might eat less than a human overall, but they had to eat more frequently. Still, a squirrel-sized appetite coupled to a human-sized stomach. For all Kreg knew, they would not have to eat more than once a week.

  "I hate waiting," Kreg said.

  "Aye." Marek took a long pull from a wine flask and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "'Tis the hardest part of any battle."

  "I wouldn't know," Kreg said, "I've never been in a battle."

  "Patience, Kreg. If I must wait here--" Marek tapped his foot on the rooftop for emphasis. "--you can wait alongside me."

  "Look," Kreg said. "I’ve been serving as Kaila’s squire and I've done all I can here. My place is with her."

  "Nay, Kreg." Marek placed a hand on Kreg's shoulder and looked him in the eye. "I may yet have need of you here. However well one plans for a battle, always things occur that one had not considered. One must be ready to change the plans as fortune permits."

  Kreg sighed. "If things go sour I don't see how I can help."

  Marek shrugged. "Humility is an admirable trait, young Kreg, but too much is as great a fault as too little. Let us see what shall happen as events unfold, shall we?"

  Kreg grunted and settled down to wait, then his attention jerked skyward. A wash of bilious green sprouted over the Schahi army and sped toward them to be met by a wash of gold from somewhere behind Kreg.

  "What?" Kreg said.

  "It begins," Marek said. He turned and noted Kreg's expression. "Be not afraid. We have strong magical defenses, as do they. None are likely to fall from spellcraft."

  Kreg swallowed and nodded, hoping that he spoke true, while overhead the pyrotechnics continued.

  #

  "The archers still proceed," Marek said some time later.

  As the two armies neared the magic-born pyrotechnics had ceased. Marek had told Kreg that the mages had felt out each other's defenses, found them solid, and settled to watchful vigilance.

  "Perfect," Kreg said. "The archers don't have any cover. They're advancing without support. Our own archers have range and the advantage of the high ground. The sun is in the Schahi's eyes and that should spoil their aim. It'll just be target practice for our own."

  "And more, Kreg." Marek pointed at the forces on his left wing. "If we launch our attack from thence, will they not flee straight from them and will that not carry them into the lines of their own cavalry? Will that not create much confusion?"

  Kreg looked from Bryon's archers waiting in line to the advancing Schahi. "I think you're right."

  "Send word," Marek called down to the pages. "Kaila is to instruct her archers to hold their shafts. Bryon's are to delay until the Schahi archers are halfway up the hill, then let fly upon them."

  "At once, Majesty.” Two of the boys ran down the hill, one toward the right wing, the other toward the left.

  As the first wave of Schahi horsemen began to advance, the archers of both sides loosed their first volleys of arrows. The arrows, driven by the shorter bows of the Schahi fell short. Schahi archers fell in droves.

  Loosing arrows as they came, it seemed for a moment that the Schahi archers would press forward until they were able to reach their adversaries. But only seemed. Kreg saw one of the Schahi drop his bow and turn to flee. Several of his companions joined him. Soon the entire Schahi archery company fled down the hill where, at the foot, they collided with the first ranks of the charging Schahi cavalry.

  Instead of turning aside themselves, or opening ranks to allow the archers to pass through them, the Schahi charged, cutting into the ranks of their own fleeing archers.

  At that moment Kaila decided to add the weight of her own archers to the storm falling among the Schahi.

  The second wave arrived. They charged into the struggling mass at the foot of the hill adding, if it were possible, to the confusion.

  Schahi men-at-arms began to break free of the pandemonium and make their way up the hill, a few score at a time. Most died, pierced through with arrows, long before they could reach the top. The few who did were met by dismounted knights and pulled from their saddles. Marek's lines kept good order.

  The third wave did not add much to the confusion. They did, however, provide more targets for the archers.

  The fourth and fifth waves hauled up short, out of archery range. With shouts, trumpets, and waving of banners, they got the boiling mass at the foot of the hill to pull back. A much-depleted army retreated.

  "By the Threefold Twins!" Marek whispered. "Never have I seen such a victory."

  "It's not over yet," Kreg said. "They still outnumber us two to one."

  "But we have slain more than our own numbers," Marek said. A moment later, he sighed. "You are right. They may yet attack again. It is best to be ready."

  He called down to the pages and sent them to have the wounded taken to the rear, also to distribute more food and wine, and fresh shafts for the archers. Finally, he sent an injunction to remain alert. The Schahi could return at any time.

  About an hour later, the Schahi did return. The first wave of this second attack, five thousand strong, approached at the trot. As they reached the furthest extreme of archery range they broke into full gallop. Arrows fell among them. Men and horses screamed and fell.

  Marek pointed. "They attack the archers."

  The approaching line of cavalry charged toward the twin clumps of archers between the two wings. Kreg held his breath. If they broke through the line, it would be all over.

  Cresting the hill, the first of the horsemen reached the checkerboard of pits. His horse stumbled, pitching the rider to the ground. His body, and those of the Schahi who followed him, formed a living wall, obstructing the advance of those behind. The peasant levies pressed forward through the ranks of the archers and dispatched those few who got through. Again, Marek's casualties were light.

  The retreating remnants of the first wave clashed with the second. Chaos erupted.

  "They haven't learned anything, have they?" Kreg looked away from the carnage.

  Again, a much-reduced force retreated before the army of Aerioch.

  A messenger arrived.

  "Majesty!"

  "Speak."

  "The scouts report the Schahi army massing," the man said. "One thinks they are planning one more attack at sunset, their entire force at one blow."

  King Marek turned to Kreg. "What fortune is this? Right glad am I that your plan has left me with the force to exploit it!"

  "I don't understand."

  "If yon army truly attacks in a single mass," Marek said, "then can we not take this--what did you call it, ah, reserve force--through the village of Griselde. We can encircle the Schahi and fall upon their rear."

  "Maybe." Kreg nodded. "Unless they have a reserve force of their own."

  "Aye, a wise warning," Marek conceded. "I will instruct the
scouts to keep watch."

  He did so.

  As the sun dipped low toward the western horizon, bathing the battle in its blood red glow, the Schahi army approached. Nineteen thousand strong, they seemed determined to roll over the army of Aerioch by sheer weight of numbers.

  As one, Marek's archers lifted their bows. As the Schahi came into range, the air was suddenly thick with arrows. Men and horses fell only to be replaced with others. More arrows...more dead. The line of Schahi drew closer

  "Your Majesty," a messenger shouted, "it is reported. No reserves. That is the entire host."

  "The day may yet be ours!" Marek leaped for the hole in the roof. He dropped down the ladder, scarcely touching the rungs. Kreg followed more cautiously.

  "My horse!" Marek shouted as he dashed from the barn. "And a horse for Kreg."

  The horses that a page brought were larger than any Kreg had yet seen. They stood well over six feet tall at the shoulder with broad chests and well-muscled flanks. A page stood near to help Kreg mount. Someone shoved a lance into Kreg's hand while another held a shield for him. Awkwardly, Kreg thrust his arm through one strap on the inside of the shield and grasped another. He spared a moment’s thought for the wish that Kaila had thought to teach him to use a shield, or a lance for that matter.

  "Mount! Mount!" Marek waved his lance as he rode among the troops. "We ride to victory!"

  The knights, squires, and men-at-arms leaped to horseback. Marek rode to where the foot troops stood waiting.

  "Archers, go to Kaila," he said. "Add you weight to hers. Knifemen, to Bryon. Tell him that when I close upon the enemy's rear, he is to swing forward and thus close the trap."

  Men ran to and fro as the troops hastened to comply.

  Marek led the cavalry down the steep slope to the village of Griselde. Kreg found himself caught in the flood of men and horses, unable to change his course even had he wished.

  The river on one side and the cliffs on the other forced the mass of cavalry into a narrow column. Kreg shuddered. By the time they passed through, there would be no village left standing. The knights would trample it into the dirt. Kreg hoped the villagers were gone.

  The charge took on an unreal quality to Kreg, as if he were watching from a great distance rather than riding in the midst of it. He heard a familiar voice shouting in an inarticulate roar and was startled to realize it was his own.

  As one, seven hundred lances came down. Ahead, the rearguard of the Schahi army spotted the charge. Bedlam ensued as they tried to pivot to face this new threat. The charge struck home.

  Kreg found himself facing an armored knight. He leaned far to the left to avoid the knight's lance. Unfamiliar with his own, he let the point dip, aiming at the horse -- a larger, less agile, target. Kreg's lance missed the horse and struck the ground, the shock of impact jerking it from his hand.

  Kreg drew his sword. It gleamed in the final crimson rays of the sun.

  The Schahi army was in utter panic. Kreg's arm rose and fell repeatedly. What remained was not battle, merely butchery.

  By the time of the larger moon's setting Marek's army had no enemies left to fight. Those that had not fled littered the blood-soaked ground.

  #

  With a cheer, the division led by Kaila opened ranks to allow the mounted men-at-arms to return to the rear. Bryon's force returned to their lines.

  Marek stood in his stirrups, his voice ringing through the night. "We have won a great victory this day." A cheer burst from the army at those words and he waited until it died before continuing. "Nevertheless, we know not what forces our enemies retain. Thus, it is our royal command to keep watches and that our armies camp in their battle lines. Thus, should the Schahi army return, we will give them a defeat they will long remember! Aye, remember and tremble." The cheer that followed dwarfed the first.

  As the other mounted men crowded around the king, Kreg found himself pushed to the outside. He let them, at a loss at where to go and what to do.

  With the battle over Kreg began to feel the fatigue. His shoulder ached from swinging the sword. A stinging pain in his right leg caused him to glance down. A short, deep gash welled blood. Already half-dried blood coated the outside of his leg. He had been struck all unknowing.

  “Oh. I’m bleeding.” He did not know how long he sat unmoving on his horse, too tired to even think about the wound.

  "Kreg," Kaila's voice came from behind him. He turned to face her.

  "You okay?" he asked.

  "I am well," she said. "The King wishes to see you."

  "Right away." Kreg swung off the horse. His right leg buckled as he put weight on it causing him to clutch at the saddle for support.

  Kaila appeared at his side instantly, a supporting arm under his shoulders. "Are you well?"

  More carefully, Kreg shifted his weight to his right leg. He disengaged his left foot from the stirrup. "I'm okay. I just got clipped a little."

  "You are wounded?" Kaila's eyes widened in concern. In a firm voice, she said, "We must tend to it at once."

  "But the King..."

  "...Will understand the delay."

  Kaila helped Kreg to a nearby campfire. Kreg gasped as the chill night air hit the back of his neck when she took his helmet. The iron skullcap and padded hat went next, freeing his sweat-soaked hair to flop into his face. With deft fingers, she unbuckled the breastplate and set it aside.

  A few moments' tugging pulled Kreg's mail shirt and padded undertunic over his head. Finally, Kaila helped Kreg to peel off his blood-soaked trousers, leaving him clad only in a breechclout. His now bare skin revealed several large marks, an angry red-purple, where swords had struck but not penetrated his mail.

  Kreg grinned wryly as movement irritated tender tissues. "I'm going to ache tomorrow."

  "Shillond has given me some herbs," Kaila said, "and schooled me in their use."

  Kaila summoned a page and had him fetch a flask of strong liquor and some cloth strips. When they arrived, she poured the liquor into and around the gash on Kreg's leg.

  "Ow," Kreg said.

  From a small, leather pouch Kaila took a pinch of dry, red leaves. These she crumbled and sprinkled over the cut. She folded several of the cloth strips together into a pad, which she placed over the cut. The remainder she wrapped around Kreg's thigh, securing the pad in place.

  "I am not my father," Kaila said. "I have not his magic. The wound will be some days healing and will leave a scar, methinks."

  Kreg shrugged. "It could be worse."

  #

  With a new tunic and trousers Kreg was able to limp to the King's tent.

  "Kreg, Kaila," Marek greeted them with an enthusiastic hug that made Kreg wince. "I received word of your delay." He looked Kreg up and down. "You are well, I trust?"

  "Well enough," Kreg said. "A little sore, but that will pass."

  "Come." Marek motioned them to join him and Bryon at a map table. "We have plans to make."

  "We have won a great victory," Bryon said. "Due, in good part, to your plan, Kreg."

  "Indeed," Kaila said. "We have visited great slaughter among our foes yet our own losses were light."

  "Fair's fair." Kreg shrugged. "Edward III of my world deserves the credit, not me."

  "As may be," Marek said. "We must turn to the matter at hand."

  He gestured at the map. "We know not how many of the enemy remain, thus I have ordered the army to camp in battle order lest we be surprised in the night. We must yet plan what to do on the morrow."

  "Can we not hold the line here?" Bryon asked.

  "I think not." Marek pointed to where the map showed a gap in the forest north of them. "If Schah retains any great army, they may pass us by and either fall upon our rear or strike into the heart of Aerioch while we but chase them."

  "Strike back!" Kaila said. "We have crushed their army. Now is the time to carry the fight to Schah." She indicated the Topaz hills. "There be a pass here, not more than a week's march away. We may be through and
fall upon them before they know what we are about."

  "Kreg?" Marek looked at him. "What say you?"

  Kreg studied the map for a moment. "I think I'd wonder what would happen to your army so far from home when the Chanakran wizards conjure up more men. And what if they conjure them back here, not down in Schah with your army? Remember that village--all the animals taken? I think those animals, and many others, were taken just to become the army that besieged Elam."

  Kaila stared at Kreg, her expression one of astonishment. She turned to Marek. "Majesty, I spoke foolishly."

  "So." Marek leaned on the table as he stared at the map. "We cannot hold, neither can we advance. There is naught for it but to retreat."

  "Are we to return in shame then?" Bryon stared at Kreg although he spoke to the King. "When we march into Norveth, what shall we say? That we won a great victory but fled before a defeated enemy?"

  Marek continued to study the map while Bryon spoke. "Nay, for we march not to Norveth. I see now our course."

  "Majesty?" Kaila leaned over to study the map with him. Kreg and Bryon joined them.

  "Aye. See here, the Black Mountains." Marek indicated a range of mountains that ran north from where the Amber Mountains met the Topaz hills. "There is only one pass that an army might cross." His finger moved northward, skipping a range of low hills before coming to rest on a forest. "The Greenwood also is ill suited to an army's march." He lifted his finger and stabbed it down onto the hills he had skipped. "We move the army here."

  A glitter of understanding formed in Kreg's head. "Beautiful."

  "I understand not," Bryon said.

  "Kaila?" Marek looked at her.

  "Majesty," she said, "methinks I understand, but..."

  "Very well." Marek nodded. "We will send a few score archers and a small body of cavalry to hold the pass. More archers will make the Greenwood an unwelcome place for our foes. Thus, if they would attack at all, they will attack here." Again his finger stabbed down. "We will bring them to battle on ground of our own choosing. And we need not have concern for our rear."

  He looked up to meet their eyes. "Thus shall the heartland of Aerioch remain secure."

  "Aye." Kaila ran her finger along the proposed defensive line. "It is a plan well thought on." She stared at the map and shook her head, then whispered softly, "Well thought on."