As I rode in their general direction, I could see that indeed, they were being attacked by my men. Bella’s men. Whoever they were, they rode smaller, lighter horses, and nimbly swung out of a creek bed where they had been lying in wait, with short bows firing almost as soon as they crested the bank.
I couldn’t tell from here how well they were aiming, and likely it didn’t matter. It wasn’t about hitting the men, after all, but the horses. One screamed so loudly I could actually hear it, and I saw one rear wildly, throwing and trampling his rider. Might have been the same horse, but I doubted it. The arrows had the effect of a thrown wasp’s nest as horses bolted in all directions to escape the stings.
The last battle of this magnitude in Underhill had taken place when I was a child. Armies were not kept standing, here, unlike the human realms where I had taken part in battles from India to America and in jungles and deserts few had heard of down here in my home. Here, armies were raised by lords who ruled over fiefdoms which owed allegiance to a king. The king’s responsibility, as Trytion seemed to see it, was to avoid war at all costs, but to pressure those lords and ladies to keep their musters ready for when the call came.
I’d never trained with a muster. Magic was used in place of guns, Underhill, and I was pretty useless with magic. I was, however, good with a gun due to my human training. I lacked the patience to become a sniper. I had, however, practiced with a rifle… I dismounted on the hill overlooking the ford. I’d practiced daily until recently, but firearm handling is a friable skill. It goes away if you don’t use it.
I pulled the rifle out of nospace. I’d left the Sharps .50 cal out of the way and got the hunting rifle. I was hunting officers with the Lee-Enfield 303 Snoxall had taught me to shoot. The Sergeant Instructor had been a machine, and I couldn’t possibly reach his rate of 38 rounds downrange in a minute. I really ought to get a Barrett, but a century of practice made this the most comfortable choice for me at the moment. As I lay on the grass, feeling the prickle of briars through my shirt, and the smooth wood of the stock on my cheek, I took a slow breath, let it out, and squeezed.
Far below, the idiot with the sword fell out of his saddle. His horse squealed and bucked, I could hear the sounds faintly. Fae can shield magically against bullets, sure, but they need to know what’s coming, and it takes too much energy to run a shield all the time, as my wife had discovered trying to protect her whole team from ogres. Which reminded me, as I took another shot, this one missing, to keep an eye out for ogres. They were why I’d packed the Sharps.
I fired again. Two shots more, and I would scoot to a different place. A strong magic user could possibly reach me with fireballs up here, but when they shielded and got scared, I would have achieved my goal. Draining their energy would leave them vulnerable. I missed again, and forced myself to take slow breaths and focus. The fourth and fifth shots both hit, but I didn’t pay too much attention. It was time to go.
The chestnut looked peevish about being taken from his chance to graze a little, but let me get back onboard and urge him down the hill toward the light cavalry that was regrouping after their successful attack. I rode up and sketched a salute to the man in charge, who I recognized.
“Waters.” I greeted him. “Looked good down there. I didn’t realize we had mounted bowmen.”
He pulled off his helmet, revealing a red, sweating face and smiling blue eyes over a thick brown beard. “Aren’t they just the thing? And where did you come from?”
I jerked a thumb over my shoulder at the hill I’d just left. “Had a vantage point, decided I’d wait until you had them on the run before coming down.”
We both looked toward the river, where the last of the enemy heavy cavalry was riding through the water, harried along by a unit of his riders. He grunted. “You were doing a little covering fire, weren’t you?”
“Richard, would I do such a thing?” I grinned at him and he flashed me a smile, before his brows drew together.
“Dammit! That boy is a bit too enthusiastic. Jonny!” He bellowed at the rider who’d just gone into the river. “LaForce, you get your tail back here before I come pull your ears off!”
The last part of that was muffled by his shoving the helmet back on and reining his horse in the general direction of his errant troop. Shaking my head, I rode on.
A double troop of heavy cavalry was coming toward me, the ground shaking as they rode in well-drilled unison. They weren’t even at a full speed and I was intimidated. I turned the chestnut and rode to the side, letting them past. I tossed a salute at Lord Roberts, who peeled off and rode up alongside me.
He boomed in his resonant voice that had earned him the nickname of Speaker, and which I’d always thought he enhanced with more than a touch of magic. “Mulvaney, m’boy, didn’t expect to see you. Last I heard you were off doing Secret Squirrel things.”
“Got back just in time for this. The Queen asked me to rally the troops. But it looks like your boys are champing at the bit and don’t need me.”
He guffawed. “Been an age since I rode into battle.” He squinted at me. His helmet hung from the other side of his saddle, and he’d put it on at the last minute. It was not designed for optimal visibility. “Matter of fact, last time your Da rode with me.”
I didn’t want to detour down memory lane. “I take it your men are the drawing force?”
He nodded and pointed. “I have Taylor and Saults riding point for me. ‘Fraid I’m too old for that any longer.”
I shook my head. “You’re not old, Speaker, just canny enough to let the young’uns get blooded first.”
He laughed again. A happy warrior. I sketched a final salute and watched him ride back into formation. Behind the cavalry, I glimpsed a head pop up over the creek bank and back down again, like a gopher. Hand on my pistol, I walked the chestnut over toward the brush-lined creek, and looked down on a unit of infantry.
“Hello, boys.” I dismounted and made like I was checking the chestnut’s hoof for a stone, so I wouldn’t give their position away. “You must be backup to the kitsune.”
“Yep.” The nut-brown face of a pixie split into a broad smile. “Pleased to see you so careful an’all, my Lord.”
“Your name, man?” I didn’t recognize him, although he seemed to know me. The horse decided that leaning on me was restful, and I grunted, shoving his weight back and dropping the hoof. This would be a short conversation.
He tugged his forelock. “I’m Harlan, sir. Thankee.”
“Happy Hunting.” I remounted the horse, and he vanished back into the brush. They’d set a clever ambush, but time would tell if the enemy would rise to the bait. I looked across the river at the gathering crowd. It looked like they would. There was no rhyme or reason I could see from here to the mob that was grouping on the river bank. Then it split, and Dionaea rode through them to the water’s edge, mounted on a solid black horse. It didn’t want to step into the water, dancing sideways a few steps while the flag bearer almost came to grief getting out of her way.
I kept going. I knew that behind the creek, I would find the archers, and this would be where Ash and Olive were. Ash could no longer pull a bow, but his brother could, and Ash would have been assigned to shout orders, I was sure. The wood elves were not a wasteful race, and there were few enough of them. Which is why I’d sent the broken child to Ellie. Unlike the fairy drab in the kitchen, the wood elf girl was not born in that stone castle. I just hoped her tree could be found and some healing come to her in time. I bore no illusions about her ever returning to anything resembling normalcy. Scars linger.
I splashed across the creek, letting the chestnut take a drink. Behind me, I could hear a shrill shouting, which I presumed was Dionaea addressing her troops. I still hadn’t glimpsed the Wendigo, not that I wanted to, and Raven… I tipped my head back, shielding my eyes from the sun. It was getting to be late morning. I hadn’t realized how long I’d been working across the field. Raven wasn’t in sight.
Beyond the creek, wher
e the slow rise of land toward the mountains began, Ash was waiting for me.
“Lom.”
“All’s well?” I asked him, looking around. The archers were arrayed both on the ground and in tree stands. I’d only seen them a few times before, and looked curiously up at them. The forest swept up the side of the mountain, and we wouldn’t be fighting in it, today, not all these men. But the elves had simple rigs which gave them a nice advantage over the field below. As I watched, one swarmed up a tree with a climbing belt, a small hatchet quickly removing any little limbs, and then with another broad belt, he got the stand set up, spikes sinking into the bark below the support, and keeping it stable.
“Doesn’t that make them a target?” I asked Ash. I knew that the other side would have at the very least, mages capable of tossing fireballs.
“We keep a reserve of shield-maidens,” He pointed. “Jonna, Vanessa, and Cyn.” He’d raised his voice a little, and the three elves all raised a hand in what looked like a sort of salute. I saluted them gravely in return. Fairy women almost never go to battle. Children are too rare and precious among us to risk their mothers or potential mothers. Bella and Dionaea might be the only females of fairy on the field today.
“They protect the tree, and the archer in it.”
I nodded. “You okay? You didn’t answer me.”
He pulled a face. “Nervous. You know how it is.”
I did. My stomach felt like lead. Behind me, the noise of the gathering army was muted, but I never stopped listening to it. It seemed to be building to a crescendo. Ash looked toward it. I could see the look on his face, so I twisted around in the saddle.
Queen’s Gambit
Behind me, they were coming across the river. Not charging, this time, but in a relatively quiet and slow fashion. The storm of screaming and shouting was dying down, and Dionaea stood her horse at water’s edge, the silk of her flag snapping in the breeze above her head. It was the calm before the storm, and the fighting would come in a few moments. Time for me to move on and finish my task.
I rode slowly along the tree line, greeting elves as I went. I knew many of them, having spent much time with the shy people over the years. I reined the horse in as the tree line followed the curve of the creek upward. There was someone I recognized walking across the creek on a rough-split log bridge.
“John?” I called out. He looked up and nodded.
“John Farmer, why are you here?”
He got up the bank in three easy steps, no mean feat as it was steep, and he had both his arms spread out and draped casually over the thick oaken staff he carried across his shoulders. Now he unlimbered it and stuck the butt into the soft ground, leaning on it. Everything the big pixie did was lazy, deceptively so.
“Wa-all…” He began slowly, squinting off toward the river. “They tole me t’ere was a fight.”
“You haven’t got a sword, or armor?” I felt the familiar exasperation in dealing with him. I’d seen him kill an ox with that stick, and I had reason to believe that like Alger’s staff, it wasn’t just wood. Still, this was a battle. I was sending enough trained men into die, no need to do it recklessly.
“No more have you,” he pointed out, a little twinkle in his eye.
“I’m not going to the front lines.” I said, turning to look over my shoulder.
The heavy cavalry was beginning their charge. Dionaea was still on the other side of the river, but her troops had created a beachhead and were bracing long polearms, or pikes, hard to tell from here, against the onrush of horses and men.
“No. You aren’t. Better get on, lad.”
He continued to walk toward the wood elves, and I kicked the reluctant gelding forward and down the bank. He seemed to want to try the bridge, which wasn’t going to hold him, and I had to argue with him to get him into the water and up the other side. I could hear the fighting behind me, and it wasn’t easy to keep heading in this direction.
On the other side, I saw Bella and the Hunt in a column, riding toward the river. I kicked the chestnut into a canter, and we intercepted them. The chestnut really didn’t like Brutus, but I kept my movements firm and confident. The nervous horse settled down as he took his cue from me. I only wished I could do that to myself.
“Bella,” I said, then stopped. I didn’t know what to say.
She leaned over and took my hand in hers. “I will see you tonight.”
I nodded, and reined the horse back out of the column. The Hunt would protect her. I watched them riding, wondering who they had been, before they became the creatures in armor, mute, seemingly senseless.
I trusted them not to be human, but to be inhumanly violent on her behalf. And I still had another stop to make. There was another ridge here, like the one the hospital tent was atop. Only this one was rocky, with jagged boulders and no cover from the sun high overhead.
I had already figured out there was a waterskin and food in the saddlebags the horse had come to me with. Which was appreciated even if I did have the supplies in nospace. It was going to be a warm day. I knew where the unit was, even hidden as they were, because I could feel them.
Not any weirdness there, just the vibrations of rounds going out over my head. It wasn’t artillery in any way a human could have set up, but still, he might have recognized the cannons for what they were. Simply put, we’d discovered that two or three spells, packaged together like a mad Roman candle, made an effective delivery system. One for propellant, another for explosive, and sometimes, one for effect. I swung down off the horse and slapped Guptill on the shoulder. The crusty artilleryman was one of the rare fairy who had ventured Above, and when he returned, brought this concept with him.
“Hitting what you aim at?” I asked.
He grunted, squinting through a long spyglass. I’d offer him my binoculars, but I knew better. He liked it his way. I squatted next to him and used the modern glasses myself, following his vector to see the next target.
“Ogres. How charming of her.” I said.
He chuckled at this, shutting his long glass. “They do make a nice splat, though. Wait and see.”
I kept watching the milling group, counting four still on their feet, and what looked like two more on the ground. There were enough pieces it was hard to tell. Maybe three. Over my head, I felt the concussion of the shockwave as the spell arced over the battlefield.
There was a long moment of nothing, during which the ogres got themselves oriented and headed toward the river, since they were still on the wrong side of it. Guptill had adjusted for that, though. I’d only seen him in action a few times, but as always, it was impressive. Through the glass, I could see the ogres suddenly flinch in unison and look up.
“Put a whistler in. Doesn’t…”
The ogres disappeared in a puff of dirt and blood. He kept murmuring in my ear. “Give ‘em time to run. But by god, they know they’ve been hit.”
One ogre emerged from the smoking crater, running in the wrong direction. I turned my glasses toward the beachhead the Low army had established, and saw that the heavy cavalry had hit it, caving in one side, but the bulge was extending toward the kitsune’s hide, now, and a troop of the cav was trotting slowly in that direction with a horde on their tail.
“Seen Dean?” I dropped the glasses, not wanting to start looking too closely at the dead, dying, and wounded on the field. Speaker was either still roaring, or not. Nothing I could do about it right now.
“His rangers are all in the woods. Herself was worried about goblins.”
He rolled his shoulders and neck. Nerves. I felt them myself. We might not be anywhere near the field, but there were still ways magic could reach out and hammer us.
“She should be. Nasty little bastards.”
He’d been with me on a mission to cleanse a village of them, when they invaded and started eating children for snacks, the local cats and dogs having been their appetizers. That was one of the times I’d seen him in action. He might be a sadistic sick bastard, but he was my
sadist.
“Keep an eye out for the Wendigo.” I told him. “You won’t be able to kill it, but might disorient it.”
He nodded and took a long pull of his waterskin. Another spell soared over head, his men were firing for effect now. I walked back to the horse.
I’d about run out of people to talk to, I figured. Time to see if I could wreak a little havoc on the field. The chestnut was reluctant to go back down there. Not a warhorse, him, just somebody’s riding hack, and not a dumb one at that.
There was a lot more noise than there had been in the morning. Screaming, explosions as spells were detonated en masse, and the clash of metal on metal when the armies closed to hitting distance. I had scouted a fold in the land earlier that gave me a vantage point, and I headed there now. A copse of trees gave the horse some shelter and kept my location less visible, and then I climbed up the side of the bluff to see what I could see.
Bella and Brutus were easy to spot. It was like a tank in the middle of the field, with the Hunt forming a long black lance in front of them. With the glasses, I could see that she was holding the flag aloft, the butt of its pole securely in the socket that was built into her saddle. With her free hand, she held her pistol, and every so often would extend her arm and fire. I wondered how she would reload, until I saw her do it. The magazine went into her lap, there was a strap to hold the flag to her for a split moment, and a fresh one in… when she ran out of ammo, she’d go to magic, I knew. She wasn’t being swarmed with the enemy, because the Hunt was fighting like a machine, and a windrow of bodies lay in their wake.
I could see what she was doing. Driving across the field toward Dionaea not only let her confront the Blood Queen, it split the enemy forces. The bulk was effectively being driven toward the kitsune, who I couldn’t see. The land wasn’t entirely flat, and the willows were good cover. I refocused on Bella.
She was being good, not outpacing her escort, and still moving slowly toward the river. Dionaea, on the other side, was spurring her horse, I could see it tossing its head and balking at the water. She’d picked it for looks, not training, I guessed. Finally, the horse splashed into the water and bolted for the other side. I had a flash of amusement at the thought of it snapping a leg and dumping Dionaea ignominiously into the water. It didn’t happen, though, and she reached the other side, her escorts right behind her.
Dragon Noir (Pixie for Hire Book 3) Page 28