[Empire Army 03] - Call to Arms

by Mitchel Scanlon - (ebook by Undead)

  “Stand fast,” Captain Harkner called out in a warning tone. He stood with the men of one of the front-most ranks of the Scarlets’ formation. “Remember our orders. We’re to hold this position. If enemy skirmishers come this way, we will drive them off if we can. But it’s more important that we hold the position.”

  The Scarlets were at the right edge of the Hochlanders’ battle line, affording them an excellent view of the rest of their army. Given the elevated nature of the ridge, Dieter could see almost every unit and regiment in the army from where he was standing. He found it vaguely surprising that General von Grahl hadn’t chosen the same spot for his headquarters, but he supposed it was too far away from the army’s centre.

  The majority of the army’s small force of cannons were situated on a high ridge to the right of the Scarlets, affording them a clear field of fire to shoot at the greenskins as they advanced on the human positions. Dieter realised the Scarlets had been placed on the next ridge to the artillery along with a regiment of spearmen and several militia free companies, in order to guard the approaches to the artillery’s position and prevent the enemy’s fast cavalry from attacking the gunners.

  To the left of the Scarlets’ position, the centre of the human line was made up of alternating units of halberds and spearmen, as well as the occasional mercenary unit of Tilean pikemen. Smaller detachments of swordsmen had been positioned immediately behind the main infantry line, alongside several more free companies. In a classic tactic beloved by Empire armies, the units of halberdiers and spearmen were meant to hold off the orcs, while the detachments behind them rushed out through the gaps to attack the enemy in the flanks.

  Finally, General von Grahl had put the majority of his cavalry in a slightly withdrawn position to the left of the main body of his army. Compared to the infantry forces General von Grahl had at his disposal, his cavalry was relatively short on numbers. The army’s heavy cavalry was made up of a small force of knights from the Order of the Blazing Sun, alongside a few local noblemen who had rallied to General von Grahl’s banner once it became clear he intended to make a stand against the orcs. The general had positioned his knights behind a screen of pistoliers and outriders, perhaps hoping to hide the paucity of their numbers from the enemy.

  Dieter was no great military mastermind, but even he could see that von Grahl had done everything in his power to make sure he could get the best from the forces at his disposal. The general had even held back a trump card.

  Behind the Hochlander positions, a second army of several thousand bowmen had been held in reserve, out of sight of the greenskins. They were militia archers, mostly local peasant bowmen and huntsmen who had been press-ganged into service by General von Grahl as he passed from village to village on his long ride northwards. They had received no great training, but each man was at least a middling bowman, possessing enough skill to put an arrow in the air with some hope it would hit its target. The greenskins had no way of knowing it as yet, but an unpleasant surprise waited for them once their army advanced to attack.

  In the meantime, however, it was important that the enemy did not become aware of the archers’ presence. General von Grahl had issued strict instructions in that regard. No matter what the provocation, no archer was to notch an arrow - much less loose it—until von Grahl himself gave the order.

  “Here they come,” Hoist said. He was standing next to Dieter in the front rank of the Scarlets’ formation, alongside Gerhardt and Rieger. “Did I ever tell you the story of how I saved Count Aldebrand’s life at the Battle of Tannesfeld?”

  “Tell me later,” Dieter told him. “After the battle.”

  “A good idea,” Hoist nodded. “It will give you something to look forward to.”

  Ahead of them, the wolf riders had almost completed climbing the rise. Raising their bows as they rode toward the Scarlets, the goblins prepared to fire.

  “Shields high!” Captain Harkner shouted an order as the enemy loosed their arrows.

  Acting as though with one mind, the Scarlets complied with the order. Each man raised his shield high, angling it to form a barrier against the incoming arrow storm as the enemy’s shots arced their way towards them. As the arrows made impact, Dieter was reminded of the sound of hail stones striking a wood shingle roof. Being of poor quality goblin manufacture, most of the arrows shattered as they hit the Scarlets’ shields, although Dieter heard several screams behind him as unlucky men were struck by arrows slipping past their shields.

  Undeterred in their efforts, the wolf riders fired another volley of arrows, then another. Each time, the result was the same. The Scarlets lost a few men to each salvo, but the majority of the goblins’ arrows failed to hit their marks.

  At the same time, Dieter was struck by the cruel irony of the situation. Barely a stone’s throw away, the Hochlanders had a supply of archers capable of vastly outshooting the wolf riders. Yet, for tactical reasons, the Scarlets had to stand and take the enemy’s punishment so as to avoid interfering with their general’s battle plans.

  The stalemate continued for long minutes as the wolf riders sent in salvo after salvo of arrows. Eventually, a line of handgunners advanced from further along the centre of the Hochlanders’ battle line and fired their own counter-salvo from their muskets. The wolf riders were quickly put to flight, while the men on the ridge cheered the sight of the enemy’s retreat.

  “Listen to that,” Hoist said, referring to the cheers. “You’d think we’d won the war from the sound of it. I hope those cheering idiots realise what’s ahead of them. This battle is barely begun. Mark my words, there will be a lot more blood before the day is out.”

  Hoist’s prediction was swiftly proven right. Watching from his position on the ridge, Dieter saw the centre of the enemy battle line move sluggishly into action. Led by the orcs in the centre of the line, the greenskin horde started to pick up speed.

  In contrast to the last battle between the two sides, Dieter noticed there were few boar riders in the enemy ranks. He hoped it was a sign the Scarlets and their comrades had slaughtered most of them at the first battle, but he could not be sure. In their place, the majority of the enemy army seemed to be made up of a mixed force of orcs and goblins on foot.

  Despite the greenskins’ best efforts to close with the Hochlanders quickly, they found it slow going as they crossed the open fields separating the two armies. Watching their progress, Dieter was suddenly struck by two factors which might not have been immediately apparent to the orc commander.

  The slope that separated the orc and human armies was misleading to the eye: the incline was steeper than it looked, and the greenskins were headed uphill. Added to that, the heavy rain of the last day had turned the open fields into a quagmire of mud. Excitement building in his heart, Dieter realised the greenskins had been lured into a trap.

  Abruptly, the true nature of General von Grahl’s battle plan was revealed. As the orcs and goblins struggled to climb the muddy slopes towards the human positions, the order was given for von Grahl’s small army of militia archers to start firing. A vast storm of arrows filled the air, followed swiftly by volley after volley of the same.

  Meanwhile, the Hochlander cannons also started firing. Caught in no-man’s-land, the orcs and goblins were subjected to a punishing barrage of missile fire. Watching from the ridge, Dieter saw scores of the enemy fall as the arrow storm hit them.

  Soon, the number had grown to hundreds, even thousands. The advancing greenskins were devastated by the relentless rain of death. Amazingly, Dieter could even see that some of the orc units had started fighting amongst themselves, the creatures’ natural animosity pushed to a level of senseless violence against their fellows by the frustrations of the situation they found themselves trapped in.

  Yet still, despite their losses, the greenskins pushed on. As Dieter watched, he saw the foremost units of the enemy meet in combat with the halberd and spearmen regiments at the centre of the human line.

  Dieter held his breath:
if the Hochlanders’ line broke now, the battle would be over. Incredibly, despite the appalling casualties they had sustained in crossing the muddy slope, the orcs seemed eager and ready for battle. For all that, though, the Hochlanders’ missile fire had done the trick. Having lost great numbers of warriors to the arrow storm and the human artillery, the greenskins were unable to push the Hochlander infantry back. Instead, the Hochlanders held their position, slaughtering vast numbers of greenskins in the progress.

  As yet, the Scarlets had not featured in the battle. Forced to watch from the sidelines as the great issues of the day were decided by others, a shiver of impatience passed through their ranks. Dieter felt it too. After suffering humiliation once at the hands of the combined orc and goblin army, he was eager to play his part in their defeat.

  Even from his elevated vantage point above the main battle, it was difficult at times to preserve any clear picture of how the conflict was going. The advantage in the battle see-sawed from one side to the other: at one point it seemed the Hochlanders were on top, then the orcs, then the Hochlanders again. Isolated from the cut and thrust of the battle itself, Dieter saw acts of bravery play out that would live, forever in the annals of Hochland.

  At one stage, an attack by a group of orc shamans seemed about to swing the battle in the greenskins’ favour. Calling on their dark magical powers, the shamans sent a series of flaring, unearthly missiles hurtling towards the human lines, leaving devastation in their wake.

  Quickly, however, a human wizard stepped forward to oppose them. Clad in the blue robes of the Celestial Order, his cloak covered with the pattern of a plethora of stars, crescent moons and comets, the wizard spread his arms wide and called down the wrath of the heavens. For a split second, clouds formed in the sky above the shamans’ position as dozens of lightning bolts rained down upon them. Then, just as swiftly the clouds dispersed with unnatural haste, while the shamans had been left reduced to charred bodies by the wizard’s power.

  Elsewhere, Dieter saw doughty spearmen hold the line against vast numbers of orcs. He saw greatswords step bravely into the fray, cutting a swathe through the enemy. He saw pistoliers and outriders play a game of hit and run, charging forward to unload their weapons at the enemy, before disengaging to reload and begin the game again.

  Bit by bit, it seemed as though the greenskins were being pushed back. Certainly, the enemy had suffered horrendous casualties. Dieter wasn’t sure whether it was seemly to find anything to admire in an enemy—especially when the enemy in question was an orc. Whatever his misgivings, however, he was forced to admit the greenskins possessed at least one quality in ready abundance - tenacity. No other army could have taken the punishment the Hochlanders had meted out against the greenskins without crumbling. In that regard at least, the greenskins were formidable opponents.

  Despite this, it seemed to Dieter that the Hochlanders were winning the battle. For all that, however, he realised the matter was finely balanced— still capable of tipping one way or another.

  “When are they going to give us the order to advance?” he asked impatiently. “The battle will be over by the time we get into it.”

  “We’ll be in it soon enough,” Gerhardt said. Staring down the slope with dark, shrewd eyes, he pointed to a group of approaching figures. “Hnn, you should be careful what you wish for, Dieter. It looks like some goblins have broken off from the main force and are headed our way.”

  Gazing in the direction Gerhardt was pointing, Dieter saw a large force of goblins advancing up the slope in the Scarlets’ general direction. For an instant his heart stopped in his chest as he saw a monstrous figure walking in the midst of the goblin horde.

  It was a troll. Dieter had no way to be sure, but looking at the creature’s odd, rolling gait and its blue-grey, stone-like hide, he felt almost certain it was the same troll he had seen kill the Golden wizard at the battle of the encampment two months earlier. He remembered how unstoppable the creature had seemed on that day—like some malign, primeval force had been given physical form.

  On the slope below, the goblin horde had begun to turn towards the Scarlets’ right. Ignoring the swordsmen and other assorted regiments in front of them, they altered their course and started for the artillery emplacements on the next hill along.

  “They’re headed for our artillery,” Gerhardt said tersely.

  “But that’s good, isn’t it?” Dieter asked. “The way they are trying to bypass us, we’ll be able to take them in the flanks. Hopefully, we’ll roll right over them.”

  “There’s still the troll to deal with.” Gerhardt’s expression was tense. “It will take more than swords to stop that monster.”

  “Maybe the artillery will be able to kill it,” Rieger said.

  “It’s too fast moving,” Hoist said. “They’ll never manage to draw a bead on that thing. Ach, where’s a wizard when you need one. Or, failing that, some divine intervention. Sigmar knows, I’m not fussy.”

  “Sometimes, the gods help those who help themselves,” Gerhardt said, while to the side of him, Rieger shook his head at his comrades’ impiety.

  “I wonder…” Turning to look to the right of the Scarlets’ position, Gerhardt’s eyes seem to catch sight of something that interested him.

  “Come on,” he said to the others. “I have an idea.”

  Following Gerhardt’s lead, they slipped through the ranks of the men behind them until they found Captain Harkner. Consulting quickly with the captain out of earshot of the others, Gerhardt outlined his plan.

  “Very well,” the captain nodded his agreement after a moment. “It’s a mad scheme, but it might work. I can’t spare you any more than five men, however. Take Hoist, Rieger, the new blood, Krug and Febel.”

  Thanking the captain, Gerhardt quickly gathered the assigned men around him. Moving them to one side of the rest of the regiment, he swiftly set each man’s duties. For once, even Krug listened in silence, not complaining. Given the gravity of the situation, it was clear it was a time for action.

  In the meantime, the goblins having advanced until their flank was right in front of the Scarlets’ position, Captain Harkner gave the order for his men to attack. With the spearmen regiment and the free companies to the sides of them, the Scarlets charged into the fray. Catching the enemy in the flank, they unleashed a deadly torrent of steel. Goblins fell in great numbers, but despite the Hochlanders’ combined efforts, the goblin vanguard and their troll ally pushed on toward the artillery emplacements.

  “Come on,” Gerhardt yelled. “It’s now or never.”

  Following his lead, Dieter and the others raced after him as Gerhardt sprinted toward the artillery emplacements. Suddenly, having advanced ahead of the rest of the vanguard, a group of goblins appeared in front of them.

  “Krug! Febel!” Gerhardt shouted orders. “It’s up to you to hold them back!”

  Much to Dieter’s surprise, Krug and his crony followed the command. Without flinching, they broke away from the small group of swordsmen and ran to head off the charging goblins. Even granting the goblins’ lesser stature, Krug and Febel were outnumbered six to one.

  Shocked, Dieter realised Gerhardt had just ordered the two men to their deaths. Even more extraordinarily, they had complied with his order without batting an eyelid. Krug and Febel were prepared to risk sacrificing themselves to ensure the success of Gerhardt’s mission. Whatever Dieter had thought of the two men before, he was forced to reassess his opinion. Krug and Febel might be mean-spirited, cruel, even venal men. In the end, however, they were soldiers. They were Scarlets. They were prepared to put their lives on the line in the cause of achieving victory.

  Charging to meet the goblins, Krug and Febel tore into the creatures like men possessed. Within seconds they were lost amid the green tide, but Dieter could not afford the time to stand watching and observe their fate. Instead, with Gerhardt and the others, he pushed on toward the emplacements.

  “This way!” Gerhardt said. “Now I just hope thi
s wagon has what I think it does inside it.”

  He led them toward a cart parked behind the artillery emplacements. Following Gerhardt’s instructions, Rieger and Hoist set about unhitching the dray team from the front of the cart, while Dieter joined Gerhardt in inspecting the wagon’s contents.

  “Will you look at that?” Gerhardt said, lifting the canvas cover that hid the supplies in the back of the cart. “I’m no expert when it comes to black powder, but I think there’s enough here to suit our purpose.”

  The back of the cart was filled with black powder stored in wooden casks and waterproofed sacks, intended to supply the army’s cannons and mortars. Dieter had no real knowledge of gunpowder, other than the fact it was dangerous stuff that only mad men were willing to deal with. In contrast, Gerhardt seemed to know what he was doing.

  “See if you can find some lanterns,” Gerhardt said, pulling back the canvas. “Make sure they are not lit, mind. It’s the oil we want, not the lanterns themselves.”

  Hurrying away to fulfil Gerhardt’s instruction, Dieter was soon able to go one better. Noticing that another cart load of supplies had been parked near the first, he checked the back of it and found a barrel of lamp oil among the contents. It was a relatively small barrel, and with some effort Dieter was able to balance it on his shoulder. He raced back to the others with his prize.

  “Found it in the back of another cart, you say?” Gerhardt lifted an eyebrow once Dieter explained his find. “Again, I’m no expert, but that sounds like a recipe for disaster—storing lamp oil and black powder so close together. Still, in this case, you have to thank whatever mutton head made that mistake. Let’s see if we can make the best of it.”

  Gerhardt had already forced open some of the black powder casks. With Dieter’s help, he balanced the barrel of oil at the back of the cart, gouging a hole in the barrel’s side with his knife so a thin stream of oil flowed freely over the wagon’s backboard and onto the ground.