Ferman’s wagon was forced to halt because of the raging fight at the burning barriers. He observed Neevan’s column of soldiers galloping and jumping over the hot red coals of the dying fires as they attacked the Karran and drove them from the field. Upon Neevan’s return, Ferman ordered a soldier to bring her to him.
“Neevan, gather all the horse soldiers you can and break out for the forest and go to the aid of Minteegan. We must help our families at once,” he said.
She nodded. “I understand, but the damage there has already been done. Without mounted soldiers here, we are even more vulnerable.”
“Do as I order you to do!” Ferman shouted, his face dark with anger and frustration. “Why do you always argue? Do it now!”
Neevan saluted and hurried away, exhaustion showing in her slumped shoulders, her face streaked with ash. She called to her officers to gather round, and shortly messengers could be seen riding back into the ranks of the army seeking out horse soldiers and ordering them to assemble near Ferman’s wagon. She ate some food and gulped deeply from a water flask. The din of battle never slackened around her. She was aware that the terrain had opened up, and there was more room to maneuver, and the center of the army was not taking as many arrows as those near the perimeter. She checked her horse. There were no replacements, so it would have to carry her again on the long ride back to Minteegan.
She worried about her mother, but she knew that the Karran had already done whatever they meant to do and that it was likely she would meet them in the forest. At least she would be on home ground, she thought.
Having rushed back through the forest, Clarian sent the horse herd ahead and out of the forest into the waiting hands of Karran handlers, who drove the herd away from the battlefield. Coming upon the Maggan camp near the edge of the forest, where Ferman first gathered his army, Clarian set out his ambush. He ringed the camp with his tired troops, archers, and spearmen on foot hidden in the thick foliage, and they rested under the black canopy, waiting for the enemy to appear. He ordered scores of small campfires to be lit to draw the enemy in and in order to see them better when they came. He left Martan in charge of the ambush and rode out of the forest.
It was not long before Clarian appeared in the main Karran encampment near the front, riding on his chestnut mare, Ruttu, his violet cloak flaring out behind him. Rokkman rode out to meet him. The sun had climbed up into a blue sky, bright and cool, although some dark clouds were building vigorously in the north over the forest. Smoke still lingered over the ridges where the skirmishes continued, and a low constant murmur drifted on the light breeze, the distant sound of men shouting and dying.
Hearing that Clarian had returned from Minteegan, Lillan and Amran with several of their officers rode in to join an impromptu conference. Clarian’s eyes found Lillan’s as he dismounted. A crinkle of a smile crossed his face. He was handed a flask of water as he and a group of about thirty officers all sat on the grass.
“How did it go?” asked Lillan.
“We burned the city and drove the night people out. There were few soldiers to contend with.”
“What of their Flamekeeper and their temple?” asked Rokkman.
“We burned the temple with their Flamekeeper in it.”
“They will hate us until the end of time, Clarian,” Rokkman said sharply.
“They hate us now.”
“And what of Martan?” asked Lillan.
“He and his men are setting up the ambush at the Maggan camp back in the forest,” said Clarian.
Clarian sat silently for a few moments, thinking. “I don’t know with certainty whether Ferman will send a rescue force back into the forest to go to the aid of his city, but I believe he will. They’ll be tormented with fear over what we did to their city and their people. And they will be shocked that we actually dared to go to where they live, when no one in the history of our conflict has gone there before. We have always been afraid of them, and they have counted on that. Now, that’s taken away. I believe Ferman will send his horse soldiers because foot soldiers are too slow, and he’s bogged down here on this battlefield. I think they’ll attempt to break out soon.”
Lillan said, “We fought with their mounted troops last night. They were good. They are also as tired as we are.”
“Yes,” Clarian said. “If and when the mounted Maggan soldiers break out, they will rush headlong for the forest. Lillan, hide your troops at the mouth of the forest until half of their column has entered the trees. Then attack from both sides and cut them in half and deny the last half of their column the forest. Drive them back and destroy them. Let Martan ambush the rest of them at the forest camp. By that time, the enemy will be confused and ineffective, I think. Prepare your soldiers and move them into position right away. We don’t know when the breakout will come, but it could happen any time now. This is where we shatter their strength and break their spirit. In the name of the Flame!”
“The Flame!” they responded.
With a long look at Lillan, Clarian got to his feet and walked to a fresh horse. Rokkman remained, talking to some of the officers. As Clarian gathered the reins to mount up, Lillan appeared at his side. She turned his horse so that they were partially shielded from the other officers’ view. She reached for his hand. He whispered to her, “You must be careful.”
“I know.” She squeezed his hand and turned back to the circle of officers.
He mounted and rode back toward the battlefield.
Martan’s soldiers were desperately tired after their long, hard ride from the Minteegan cavern. They broke into small groups and dispersed into the foliage among the towering trees that enclosed the empty camp. Soldiers cut branches and set up leafy screens behind which they could launch their ambush. The horses were led away a good distance to be held until needed.
A messenger arrived from Clarian saying that all was ready. The camp secure, Martan directed the soldiers to prepare their weapons and their assigned locations. He and his officers made a walk-through inspection of the camouflaged positions, checked weapons, and gave encouragement to the troops. Martan gave the soldiers permission to eat and then to rest. He sent scouts to the edge of the forest to watch for the Maggan so they would have plenty of warning. Now all they had to do was wait. But what if the Maggan don’t come? wondered Martan. What if they are delayed? Could I be trapped here in this tomb of a forest? He fervently wished he were out of the forest and back on the plain.
Clarian climbed to the top of a low, rocky ridge, its top covered in scrub trees, from where he could see into the battlefield below. It was night, so he could see the fires and the flaming arrows and could vaguely make out masses of troops on both sides. Rokkman followed him, as he always seemed to. Storm clouds bunched in the north, and a wind drove them eastward. A break in the clouds let the moon briefly illuminate the battlefield. Clarian thought the storm headed their way might cancel out his use of fire and flaming arrows at the barricades. There were still smoldering fires in the valley below, and a layer of smoke obscured some of the battlefield, but the wind was sweeping it all clear. The battle had slowed to an exchange of arrows by archers on both flanks. The Maggan had pulled out of the ridge country and moved down the road toward the forest, into more open country broken up by copses of trees, low rock formations, hillocks, and lines of scrub trees.
Clarian could not see the fighting taking place far down the valley from which the Maggan were retreating, driven by the steady pressure of Tobran’s troops, but he could see the head of the Maggan army up against the burning barricades. “It will be dawn in a few hours. They will want to break out and make a dash for the forest before daylight. I was hoping the hot weather would hold,” Clarian said as he scanned the sky. He could smell rain in the air and could feel the temperature drop and see the black clouds building and gliding toward them, closing around the moon.
“Will the rain make much difference?” a
sked Rokkman.
“Well, we won’t be able to use fire, and visibility may be reduced for the archers. It may mean fighting up close.”
“I once heard that there was another Maggan tribe in the lands far to the northeast beyond Minteegan,” said Rokkman.
Clarian nodded and watched and waited. His horse nickered from below at the foot of the rocks. He was thinking of Lillan. He knew that the mission he had given her was highly dangerous. It would not be long. He hoped his anticipation of Ferman’s actions would help break the enemy’s will to continue the fight.
Lillan noticed that the moon was about to be covered by building storm clouds sweeping down from the north. Scouts reported that the enemy was massing mounted soldiers. They were in the rough open country now. Mounted Karran troops continued to race in at the flanks as before or gallop abreast of the forward lines of the black-garbed soldiers, firing arrows at the foot soldiers. Archers on foot crept up close to the flanks and from cover, shot into the ranks. But the Maggan showed discipline and charged on foot to dislodge the archers and drive them back. Enemy archers, though fewer in number, became bolder and their arrows found their mark when Karran soldiers ventured too close.
It was time to move. Lillan roused her troops, mounted, and rode out to the edge of the Forest of Darkness, splitting her column to have one on the north side of the road and the other on the south side. She positioned their troops behind stony outcroppings and scrub trees. She placed a number of dismounted archers just inside the entrance to the forest along the road, hidden in the foliage. She felt rain on her face. Would the enemy come? The wait began.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The storm crashed down just as Neevan finished giving her final orders to her officers. Lightning creased the sky with sharp thunder, and the rain pounded the ground, drenching everything and everyone.
Ferman stood next to Neevan as she prepared to mount. “You will probably run into the enemy on the way or once there. No one knows at this point.”
“I know,” she said.
“Your first mission is to render aid to our people. Once in Minteegan, organize a defense of the cavern. Take note of the situation. Gather additional troops, if any are left. If the Karran are still there, attack them. If they have left, return here, swiftly. Be careful.”
Neevan nodded and swung up on her horse. She was soaked and cold, but she shrugged it off. She signaled to move forward, and the troop wove its way through the ranks of foot soldiers. The rain had all but stopped the fighting at the front. The foot soldiers continued slogging through the mud without serious resistance. She thought that was their first bit of luck. She ordered several scouts to lead the way, then kicked her horse into a gallop, and she and her force burst through the front lines, pounding down the road toward the forest. She scanned the terrain but saw no Karran. It was still night, a few hours before dawn, and she was glad that was in her favor. But somewhere in the back of her mind, the thought that this was too easy prodded her.
The rain nearly blinded her. She couldn’t see the tree line yet, but the enemy had not appeared. The road had turned to mud, and big puddles were forming. A reddish bolt of lightning struck nearby, lighting up the area, and she could see the trees of her beloved forest up ahead. She turned and could see her column of horses, four abreast, stretching back into the misty darkness, following her lead.
Neevan pulled up as she reached a rise in the road from where she could see the forest just ahead and waved the columns on in. She sat her horse, taking stock of her troops as they galloped by. She smiled to herself as she observed what a bedraggled lot they were, soaked to the skin, rider and horse alike, pleased that they would soon be under the canopy of the trees.
The column snaked its way into the forest. It seemed that only a few minutes had gone by when she heard shouts coming from the forest. Then screams, and a riderless horse came bolting out of the trees. A burst of dread shot through her body as she reined her horse around and kicked it into a gallop, toward the forest. But the troops were bunching up now, and horses were rearing, and some were down, kicking. All progress into the forest had stopped.
Neevan felt rather than heard the charge from the flank into her troops. She had only moments to react as troops bore down on her column—Karran riders hunched over their saddles, bows bent, arrows arcing in deadly flight. The road was swarming with warriors in blue and warriors in black, swirling and spinning, a thousand voices screaming.
The fighting was in close quarters; bows when possible, then flashing swords and stabbing lances as warriors fell from their horses into the mud clutching grievous wounds. Neevan knew they had been ambushed. Half her column had made it into the forest, but something was wrong there. She must escape this ambush with what was left of her troops. It became a running battle. The Karran rode into the midst of the retreating Maggan horsemen, and she heard the twang of bowstrings and clash of swords amid the sounds of pounding hooves and shouts. Her mind flooded with dread.
On a promontory nearby, Clarian stood, his tired eyes trying to pierce through the rain and dim light to determine the outcome of the battle. Rokkman, cold and shivering, huddled shivering beside him.
“We’re too close to the battle, Clarian,” announced Rokkman.
“We’ve cut them in half, but they are retreating to their lines before we can wipe them out. We have to wipe them out, Rokkman! We can’t leave Ferman with a strong mounted force!”
Clarian ran for his horse and drove her down the slope, sliding and stumbling toward a reserve troop of several hundred scouts, huddling with their horses in the rain behind a line of scrub trees.
“Where are you going?” shouted Rokkman, who urged his horse after Clarian.
Racing up to a group of officers under a stretched tarp, Clarian slid the mare on her haunches in front of them.
“Who is the commander here?”
“I am.”
“Get your troops mounted and follow me. We go to engage the enemy now!” he shouted.
The officer, shouting for the troops to mount up, sprinted for the horses, who were already saddled. In moments, the scouts were milling around Clarian, the horses shaking their heads and snorting.
“Just over the hill, the enemy is trying to escape our ambush and rush back to their lines. We must stop their escape and destroy them! Follow me!” he shouted in a loud voice. “In the name of the Flame.”
“The Flame!” shouted the soldiers.
Clarian pulled his bow off his shoulder and kicked his horse into a hard gallop for the battlefield, the troops pounding behind him.
Rokkman streaked in next to Clarian, his white hair flying. “You can’t go into battle, you young fool! What if you’re killed? You’re the Chosen One!”
With his eyes gleaming as the rain slapped his face and the wind dragged back his hair, Clarian turned his head toward Rokkman, and his teeth flashed in a savage grin. “It is not written that I die today!” he yelled.
In moments, his wet violet cloak flapping behind him, Clarian darted into the enemy, bow arched, arrows snapping out one after another in rapid fire. The scouts plunged in with him among the swirling, galloping horses. In the driving rain, one had to get close to tell who was the enemy.
Soon, his quiver empty, Clarian drew his sword, the one his father had carried in the Great War. Wielding it high over his head, he rammed Ruttu into another horse, causing the enemy’s horse to stumble, and in that moment he struck with lethal force. The scouts tried to surround Clarian to give him protection, but he broke away from them, lunging into the fiercest fighting, seeking out Maggan commanders to cut down. They followed the streaming cloak as he charged into clusters of wildly flailing soldiers and rearing horses, picking out the black tunics and making desperate cuts through the air with his flashing blade.
Neevan caught a glimpse of a violet cloak as it streaked by her. She lost her concentration as she t
ried to comprehend what she had just seen. A violet cloak? She dodged a sword swipe with quick knee pressure on her horse. She realized that must mean Clarian was in the battle. She drove her horse hard in the direction she had seen the cloak, but the battleground was crowded. Wait! There! She saw the cloak. She notched an arrow and kicked her horse forward only to careen against a falling horse, her own mount almost going down. She looked up, but the cloak was lost in the gray rain.
The glancing blow of a lance caught Clarian in the chest, cutting across his ribs as he turned to avoid the thrust. He grunted with the pain as he sliced his backhand stroke across the neck of his attacker. Hunched over his horse, he drummed his heels against the mare’s sides, forcing her to gallop out of the fight. The Karran scouts, never far from Clarian during the battle, saw Clarian take the wound. Shouting, several scouts surrounded Clarian and pushed their way out to the periphery of the battle. Other soldiers clustered around Clarian, as they made haste for the nearest camp, Clarian clinging to Ruttu’s mane.
Next to Neevan, a Karran soldier, only a child, looked into her face as he slid down the side of his horse, her arrow deep in his side. She knew they had to get away quickly. They were outnumbered and outmatched. She saw a Karran rider with a lance, his eyes fixed on her as he maneuvered his horse in close. She pulled her bow off her shoulder and notched an arrow, but as she pulled back on the string, his horse went down, and he was gone. Out of the mist, another Karran appeared on her left side, intent on one of her soldiers ahead. She fired and sunk the arrow deep into him, and he flipped back off his horse, lost in the mud and chaos.
The rain made it almost impossible to see. Neevan felt her horse slip in the mud and then quickly recover. Two soldiers in front of her were slashing at each other with swords at full gallop. She wasn’t sure who was who. The blue uniforms of the Karran had turned almost black from the soaking rain.
Die for the Flame Page 14