“Sir, we should plan for a suitable retreat, if it proves necessary,”Jaimeson said, cautiously.
Joseph watched as the general’s face flushed a deep red.
“A cowardly suggestion!” he roared. “Send them all!” Surprised, the colonel began to say something back. “Send them all! Push forward! All troops!” the General yelled, causing his horse to rear up. The colonel signaled to his subordinates, farther down the field.
The blue-uniformed Kingdom troops looked magnificent as they flooded down the slope; a few fell in the pits, but most managed to gain the boulder field. The soldiers ducked behind the rocks where they could squeezein as the arrows fell around them.
Form above, the situation looked dire. The General paled as he walked in circles, muttering to himself in a dark voice.
“Sir, the troops are pinned down,” the colonel told him, fearfully.
The priest--whom had blessed the battle--came over and advised the general strongly that they return to the Fort.
“It is the safest place,” the old man said, smoothing his crimson robes. “These soldiers of yours look vanquished already. It is the Fort that needs the most preservation... as well as the King’s most excellent leader of the troops, yourself. You are far too valuable to the Kingdom to die here, on a hilltop.”
The priest’s words seemed to both revile the general and give him heart. After a moment, he tore his eyes from the arrow-laden peninsula and turned to the priest.
“You are a wise man,” he said, gravely. “I must see to the Fort’s defense.”
He called the colonel over to him. “Stand here, Jamieson, with my horse... so the men may know I am still here. Have them stay in their current positions. I will send what relief I can for you, from the Fort.” With this he strode over to another horse and mounted, riding away with the priests and his personal guards.
Dumbfounded, the colonel seemed to turn to stone as he watched his commander leave.
“We are going to lose the battle...” man said, eventually; his voice shook as he spoke. Joseph looked around, but there was no one else on the hill but them. Jamieson didn’t seem to be addressing him at all, but reasoned aloud, to himself. The colonel stood perfectly still, his face a lurid mask of horror as he surveyed the fields below. “If I stay,” he continued, “this loss will be made to look like my fault. They will all say ‘poor Jamieson, what an idiot to order the troops forward all at once.’”
He stopped speaking suddenly and looked over his shoulder, at the mountains behind them. “I am going to go over there to get a better view,” he said, trying to sound authoritative. “There to the... mountain. You stay here, with the horse; I’ll be back soon.” Joseph watched in silence as the colonel caught a horse from the corral and rode off, out of sight, towards the pass road.
Alone on the hilltop--holding onto the bridle of the huge, white horse--Joseph stared down at the distant enemy ships,bobbing at the mouth of the harbor. They were all tied together, to keep from floating off in the strong current; they moved up and down almost in a body. The scene on that side of the ridge seemed peaceful, compared to the bloody massacre being fought just a few hundred yards from the little harbor. Looking down at his fellow soldiers Joseph wondered how long it would be before they, too, would be killed. The fort held little in the way of reinforcements; once the Wyemin invaders got a foothold in the city, he knew, all of the king’s troops would be needed to dislodge them. Hundreds of thousands would die because of this, one battle.
A flaming arrow--fired into the sky--caught his attention; a distress signal, coming from a group of Kingdom soldiers, fairly close to the edge of the boulder-field. Joseph watched the arrow fly upwards, the smoke trailing behind, knowing full well there were no reinforcements coming. As he watched the flaming arrow fall, an terrible, wonderful idea hit his mind... like a dagger being plunged into his thoughts.
Looking at the ships again, he could see there were but a handful of enemy soldiers on the adjacent beach. The rows of longboats and skiffs were largely unguarded as well. He did not stop to second-guess rashness of his plan; hesitation had no place in war. Letting go the horse Joseph madly searched among the General’s crates; throwing aside the swords, wine bottles and fine food, he picked up a few silken cloaks and two bundles of arrows. Pails of pitch stood near the fire where the guards had been rigging torches for the evening, evidently planning for the battle to stretch far into the night. Squatting down by the arrows and pitch, Joseph ripped the cloaks into strips. The horse did not run off, but stood looking over Joseph’s shoulder as if inspecting the process.
With haste Joseph wound the cloth around the end of each arrow and dipped the ends in the pitch until he had two score of the pitch arrows. Tying them together with some tasseled cord from the General’s tent, Joseph bound the bundle to his back and lit a torch in the fire. The horse did not like the smoky torch but let him mount after a few tries; feeling a giant on a horse this large Joseph encouraged the horse to gallop down the side of the hill towards the ridge.
Joseph’s alert eye was not the only one to spot the distress signal. The leader of the enemy invaders saw the fire arrow shoot up into the afternoon sky; he threw down the chalice of wine he was drinking in a fit of celebratory joy.
“Distress! We have them!” he cried, standing so quickly his chair fell back. “Summon all the men from the ships! We shall seize the day and slay the remnants of this Kingdom defense with one push forward!” A craze of activity followed as the enemy came swarmed from their various positions to march onto the battlefield.
The Kingdom soldiers, ducking behind boulders and bodies were unable to move forward at all. One officer kept a few of his men firing at the enemy archers and had taken out a few of them. Looking back at the faraway command hill, the man saw an unexpected sight: the general’s famous white horse--with a rider--charged down the hill towards the battlefield.
“The General is riding down!” he bellowed to all in earshot. “The reinforcements are here!” The men cheered as the news spread along each, small group. They took heart, and prepared to push forward in any lull in the rain of arrows.
Along the rocky ridge-top Joseph rode. The horse seemed accustomed to mountain terrain and galloped along powerfully. Veering off towards the harbor side, away from the battle, Joseph kept his eye on the ships anchored in the shallows. They seemed closer every time he blinked. His jaw set he clung to the horse; the shifting bundle of arrows strapped dot his back made it difficult to stay on. Relief washed over him as he same within sight of the ship’s decks and the shoreline. It appeared any remaining ship hands and guards were climbing down, splashing across the water and running up the beach, shouting cries of victory. The enemy soldiers kept running as Joseph watched, disappearing over the ridge towards their encampment.
The horse stopped, panting, at the edge of the cliffs. Joseph dismounted and unstrapped the arrows from his back, using the cord to lower the bundle some forty feet to the beach. He left the horse untied and began climbing down, holding the lit torch in his teeth. The thick wooden handle felt highly uncomfortable; drool slid down his chin and dripped onto his shoulder but Joseph ignored it. A few minutes later he waded through the shallows--ducking behind first one longboat then another--the torch in one hand, arrows in the other.
Coming up besides a small skiff, he looked around then dumped the bundle of arrows inside and pushed the little boat off into the surf. He stuck the torch into a crevice in the gunnel and grabbed the oars. He couldn’t believe his luck: no guards patrolled the beach. Pulling back on the oars Joseph kept one eye on the ridge as he rowed towards the closest ship. Twenty yards from the moored vessel, Joseph stopped rowing, cut the bundle and fit the first arrow.
Fitting his bow with the lit arrow Joseph aimed for a looped roll of sail on the foremast and let it fly. Despite the mild rocking of the boat, Joseph’s well-trained eye was true. The arrow struck and began consuming the sail immediately. Flushed with energy at this success, Joseph
threw himself into rowing to the next ship.
The flaming arrows did their work speedily. Soon, half the fleet was burning and Joseph still rowed onward, firing more arrows. In the midst of rowing however, he noticed that the current was slowly taking him out the mouth of the harbor, out to sea. Haste filled his movements; in a few minutes, he knew, he’d be out of bow-shot.
The fores raged a for nearly a quarter of an hour before the enemy noticed their armada was burning, and only then because the wind shifted. Smoke poured over the ridge in a thick, black cloud. The invading commander immediately panicked, thinking the Kingdom frigates had arrived and were flanking him. He directed a large portion of the front line to man the ridge, waiting for Kingdom soldiers from the supposed frigates to come over the top amid the smoke.
The arrows--raining death down on the Kingdom soldiers in the boulder field--stopped as suddenly as they had begun. The kings men looked up cautiously and saw the huge billows of smoke and the many of enemy soldiers running fast towards the ridge. Standing, one captain roared out an order to push forward.
“Fast as you can boys!” he shouted his sword out, his face ready to see enemy blood. “We got them running now!” The hiding soldiers came out from behind the rocks, running at the enemy line and shouting at the top of their lungs. The blue-clad archers climbed the larger boulders and knelt on top, firing at any enemy they spied, glad to finally attain higher ground.
Pandemonium reigned at the weakened front line of invaders. Their commander left with his entourage to direct the ridge defense. As when the “remnants” of the Kingdom army began pouring from between the boulders, the enemy saw a great deal had survived the arrows. Half of the line retreated back to the ridge and the others fell to confusion and the swords of the Kingdom soldiers.
Joseph’s last arrow fell short of his target by fifty feet, but that hardly seemed to matter. The arrows had done their work and the current was too strong to battle. Exhausted, he sat down in the boat, covered in sweat and soot and watched the largest fire he had ever seen. Green and brilliant orange flames leaped high up where the rigging once had been. A quarter of the huge ships already succumbed to the waves. Looking around his little boat Joseph spied a provision box. Opening it he found only a small flask of water and two hard biscuits. Drinking the water he watched the land grow more distant, the cries and clanks of battle and the fire no longer audible above the sea winds. Dousing his head and face in seawater, Joseph rested before tackling the weary task of rowing back to the peninsula.
On the retreat to the Fort General Inermis just happened to pause at a nearby plateau, looking back at his failure. The sight of the enemy ships burning made him start and stare. He saw the disorderly movements of the enemy soldiers and spurred his horse to turn around.
“The Frigates must have come!” he said, growing excited. “Back at once!” The rest of the party complied and they rode back over their tracks to the command hill. The lieutenant likewise saw the smoke and headed back arriving at the hilltop at the same time as the general’s guard. The Lieutenant was standing on the ground when the General rode up. Inermis quickly dismounted and threw his crimson cape and helm back on before addressing his lieutenant.
“What has happened? Are the frigates here? Where is my horse?” He fired the countenances out above the din of the fire and distant shouts of men fighting. The lieutenant hastily explained that he was out scouting a new position to attack from and saw the smoke himself. The general saw one of the priests was riding a horse similar to his and ordered the man of the cloth down. “You would do well to remember that I never left,” Inermis curtly told the lieutenant as he got up on the priest’s horse.
Floating hundreds of yards from the peninsula Joseph finished the flask of water. He squinted in the sun, trying to see to see beyond the smoke and flames. Taking the oars once more the young man slowly turned the skiff around. As he pulled back on the oars Joseph’s eyes lifted to the open sea. He stopped rowing, mid-pull. A mighty frigate--with its white sails full of wind--sailed straight towards him, the King’s banner rippling from the highest mast. It was not alone. Joseph counted ten Kingdom frigates bearing down on the peninsula. Relief flooded the young man’s face and he stood in the boat, waving the still burning torch and shouting.
The frigate he first spied drew near. Joseph rowed over to meet it; a soldier on board hailed him.
“Name and rank!” the man called down.
“Sergeant Asher, second infantry regiment!” Joseph shouted back. “Just come from the peninsula!” The soldier nodded and unfurled a long rope ladder over the side. Joseph climbed up willingly. The general’s tasseled tent cord was still wound around one shoulder, the torch again wedged in his teeth.
Reaching the deck Joseph took the torch in hand and stood still, grateful to be out of the skiff. Soldiers and sailors alike stared at his sooty clothes and pitch-smeared arms and hands.
“Now there’s a sight you don’t often see...” came a gruff and familiar voice. Turning, Joseph spied Dunner, leaning against the deck railing, smoking his pipe and grinning. Joseph smiled back, his teeth showing white in his sooty face; he extended his free hand to Dunner. The aging seaman stepped forward at once and shook the young man’s hand heartily.
“Good to see you lad,” Dunner said, looking down at the sticky mess on his hand.
“Excuse the pitch, sir,” Joseph apologized, sobering. “I had no soap to wash it off in the boat.” Dunner looked over the side at the skiff fast being left behind.
“You wouldn’t now, would you?” he returned. “It might be a good thing to leave it, for now.” Joseph nodded. Dunner jerked his head at one of the nearby soldiers, who immediately left on some unspoken errand.
Resting against the railing Joseph spied Captain Jacobs descending from the upper deck and stood straight again.
“Well, young Asher,” Jacobs began, looking him up and down. “I can hardly wait to hear how you come to be floating out here with...” He looked carefully at the cord and fingered one of the tassels, “a silk tent cord, and a torch?” He looked Joseph in the eye. Dunner grunted, as if hiding a laugh.
“So, Joseph,” the man said. “Whose idea was it to burn the enemy boats?”
Captain Jacobs looked at Dunner in surprise, then back at Joseph. Not knowing exactly how to answer, Joseph cleared his throat.
“Sir, the general was away... his colonel left me in charge of the general’s horse.”
“The general wasn’t on his horse?” Jacobs interrupted.
“Let the boy finish,” Dunner told him, his voice unusually soft.
“One of our soldiers let up a distress arrow,” Joseph continued. “The invaders took it as a sign to advance. The ships were left unguarded; they were easy targets.”
Dunner studied the young man’s face.
“How many of you were firing pitch-arrows at the ships?” he asked.
“One, sir,” Joseph admitted. He felt uncomfortable under the scrutiny of two captains. “Every other soldier was fighting down in the meadow.”
“Where was General Inermis?” asked Jacobs, as he studied the smoldering wreckage in the mouth of the harbor .
“I don’t know,” Joseph told him. Jacobs waited for the young man to elaborate, but he remained quiet.
Dunner’s face grew dark with anger; smoke billowed from the end of his pipe in a gray cloud.
“I wonder if any of our boys are left alive over there,” he growled.
“At least we know the enemy can’t escape,” Jacobs returned, looking at Joseph with new respect. “You are a brave soldier, young Asher. Today you have served the Kingdom well.” He called out orders to his lieutenant to draw ashore, upwind from the fire. Soon, the anchor was dropped and longboats were put out filled with soldiers, their swords ready. Joseph and Dunner climbed into the last one and each took an oar.
The beach was somewhat hidden still with the lingering smoke, but a several bodies floated floating in the shallows. Relief, itself, seem
ed to coursed through Joseph’s veins at the sight of them; none were Kingdom soldiers. The greater surprise came as the boats ran aground. The shore was so packed with dead invaders that they had difficulty getting out of the boats without stepping on the bodies. Ready for more fighting the frigate soldiers crept forward and were met with the salutations of their fellows. The fatigued Kingdom soldiers rested on the ground amid the tattered, smoldering remains of the enemy encampment.
Dunner and Joseph helped the frigate soldiers with the gruesome task of sorting through the bodies. They piled the invaders in heaps, but laid out the Kingdom soldiers neatly on the ground, to be covered and buried properly later. Captain Jacobs came ashore as they worked, and came over to speak with Dunner. Both men gravely surveyed the scene and spoke with several of the surviving defense soldiers.
Some time later the Colonel Jamieson was told of Jacobs’ arrival. He hastened to his superior with the news. Still on his borrowed horse--Champion had not yet been found--Inermis and his guards rode down the command hill, towards the shore. Walking towards the beach through the neat rows of dead Kingdom defenders Inermis smiled and bowed respectfully towards Jacobs. It was then that he saw a tall, soot-covered young man standing next to to the naval captain. Paling, Inermis recognized him as the blacksmith from the hill, before his retreat. The undisguised disgust in the young man’s eyes gripped him with a sickening fear.
“General,” Jacobs said shortly, directing Inermis’ attention elsewhere. “I see the defense army of the Kingdom has lived up to its name this day.”
“Yes... it...” the general stammered he cleared his throat. “ I... thank the Royal frigates for aiding us when we most needed it. There were many more invaders than was told to me...”
“How did we aid you?” Jacobs interrupted, looking hard at the general’s spotless armor and rich cloak. “By the time we arrived, your soldiers had already slain the enemy.” The soldiers around them stopped working and listened to the Captain of the frigate speak to their General. Eyes narrowed, Jacobs stepped forward a little. “Who ordered Sergeant Asher to set the ships afire? His actions--alone--allowed your troops to get the upper hand today.”
The Road To The King (Book 1) Page 8