“It’s making them pause, hesitate.” Behnam shrugged, a motion more sensed than seen. “We didn’t expect it to stop them completely, just give our men an edge.”
And it did do that. Darius saw some of the better archers shoot into the fray, thinning down the number of barbarians a little at a time. He kept glancing up at the sun, trying to keep track of time, as he would need to rotate the front ranks out and replace them with the fresher troops waiting in back soon. Barbarians fought with no sense of pacing, just full out charge, which made them an exhausting enemy to face. Normally he would change out the ranks after half a candlemark, but at this rate, he might do it sooner. His ears pricked as he heard Kaveh’s voice bellow a command for pikemen to fold ranks and wheel right, and his eyes darted that direction. Some of the barbarians wheeled off, heading for a ‘weak’ point in the line, only to be foiled by Kaveh shifting the pikemen to meet them.
It gave him the right opening and he bellowed, “BACK RANKS FORWARD! FRONT RETREAT!”
The switch did not happen seamlessly but close enough that no one died in the attempt. Satisfied, he kept his eyes peeled, watching like a hawk.
Despite the fresh troops, some of the barbarians broke through the line, through sheer ferocity, and it became a tangle of bodies, limbs swinging, and the brutal cries of war. Darius saw men fall but even with Sohrab’s height, he didn’t have eyes quite good enough to see each individual conflict—he could only see the waves of the enemy crashing into his soldiers.
A surge went through the pikemen, a concentrated effort to overlap their shields once more, forming a moving wall that pushed back against the barbarians. Darius could hear Kaveh snapping out orders, even above the din of clattering metal and screams. It worked, the effort enough to protect the Brindisian soldiers and decimate what was left of the barbarians.
Darius released a pent up breath. “That took more effort than it should have.”
“The barbarians are known for being hotheaded,” Behnam agreed, voice low and troubled, “but this is beyond even their usual insanity. They had no chance of winning and yet they came at us anyway? Bresalier, you said they were painfully thin and malnourished. Has starvation driven them mad?”
“I do wonder.” Looking about, he came to a slow realization that staying here would be suicide for them. “Behnam, we need to move. By tomorrow, we need to start preparing our retreat from here. The campfires should be reduced tomorrow night.”
Behnam’s eyes cut sharply to his face. “Why?”
“This isn’t defensible enough for our men to confront this berserker rage. I can already tell we lost more men today than we should have. If they keep coming in these small waves, they’ll wear us down. We don’t have enough men to spare for casual losses.” Darius turned Sohrab a little with his knees so he could comfortably face Behnam. “We know there’s a force in all three directions. Granted, two of them are still far out at this point, but we also can’t predict just how far out they are. I’m afraid they are somewhere in the central land between the towers, where no one can see them. If they come in mass….”
“I see your point.”
“We need to throw up an illusion here.” Darius lifted his head to call out, “KAVEH!”
“You said that before, about giving them false signs on how many men we have,” Behnam turned thoughtful eyes toward his own camp, seeing every fire and tent, every laundry line stretched out between them. “Time to limit the fires, certainly, when we retreat. Reduce them by a third?”
“I think that’s a good start.” Darius spied Kaveh moving at a jog and paused, waiting for the commander to join them before continuing. “We need to give them an obvious reason why our fires are suddenly reduced. We need to plant the suggestion that we incurred heavy losses here, that the barbarians made some sort of headway. Kaveh, how many men did you lose?”
“A hundred or so, sir, I haven’t had the chance for a proper headcount.”
If Kaveh lost a hundred, the left side commanded by Fenton likely lost as many. Darius nodded, figuring that number into his mental equation. “We need to bury our dead, then make up false graves as well, give the impression we lost far more than two hundred men.”
Behnam’s face creased up into an evil smile. Considering the man’s wrinkles, it made him look like a mountain troll. “Say a thousand graves or so?”
“The barbarians are always going on about how they are worth three soldiers, at the very least,” Darius pointed out. “Maybe fifteen hundred?”
“We don’t have time to do more than that, not if we’re to pull out and retreat south by tomorrow.” Behnam nodded agreement. “I’ll give the command. I think it’s time to bring our other groups in. We’re just as scattered as the enemy right now.”
Darius nodded in instant agreement. “I’ll take care of that. If they haven’t reached the northern section of the country by now, it’s likely too late. Better to bring them in before they get too far away and are cut off from us. Ramin’s the furthest one out, correct? Then when he gets in, we start our retreat south.”
Grunting agreement, Behnam gave him a nod before moving off.
Kaveh had a strange smile on his face, on that Darius couldn’t quite interpret. “What, Kaveh?”
“Sir, you said before that a good bluff is sometimes the best strategy. Is that what we’re doing here? Bluffing?”
“We are indeed.” Darius picked up the reins, getting ready to move. He needed to check on Roshan, just in case some stray barbarians made it around to the back and caused trouble. “Let’s hope they buy the bluff.”
A message came in that afternoon from the Landersi Army with a single line: “Barbs main force heading your direction. 7,000 strong.”
Reading that note, Darius felt like swearing, and did indulge for a moment, calling Darr every dirty word he could think of. No wonder the Landersi Army had been forced to retreat. They did not have the manpower or the defenses to repel a barbarian army of 7,000 men.
Darius wrote up a single message, to be given to every Brindisi commander the towers could reach: Return to camp. We start our retreat to second camp.
He hoped that someone would have intel for him as they came but didn’t hold his breath too much. Never before had he fought a war with such little information about the enemy’s movements to go off of. Granted, his decision to empty two countries of all its occupants were the reason, but it still chaffed. He honestly didn’t know if he was making the right decisions, with the right timing, because of it.
“Sir!” Roshan burst through the tent flaps, dark hair askew from the wind, a wild look in his dark eyes. “The Baiji and Commander Ramin have returned! They’re not in good shape, sir.”
Darius threw the letter to the side and ran outside. The murmurs of the soldiers came in a wave, from the front sentries and back through as word spread. Darius moved at a fast jog, the best pace he could manage in this crowded camp, pushing past anyone that stood in his way, desperate for a good look.
Not all of the Baiji entered the camp, only a hundred or so, most of the riders doubled up with Sovran soldiers. They did look rough, most of them sporting bloody bandages. Darius didn’t like the look of this at all, and his blue eyes struggled to spot either Tunheim or Ramin in the throng.
“General Bresalier!” Ramin’s strong voice called out.
Snapping about, Darius finally spotted Ramin astride his dark bay gelding, from which the man heavily dismounted, visibly limping towards his general. Darius ran to him, arms outstretched to offer support. “Ramin. How badly are you hurt?”
“Ankle and shin just badly bruised, sir,” Ramin assured him with a slight wince. “We don’t think anything’s broken.”
That did not reassure him one iota. “Let’s get you seated in my tent, then you can report. Roshan.” Darius looked around for the boy and found him at his elbow. “Take Ramin’s horse, will you? And then find Behnam for me, tell him to meet in my tent.”
“Yes, sir!”
Dar
ius raised his voice and called out, “All of the men who just arrived, you are to relax and seek medical attention as needed! Stand down until further orders.”
A flurry of assents answered him. Satisfied, Darius got an arm under Ramin’s elbows and acted as a crutch, getting a good look at the man as they walked the thankfully short distance back to his tent. Ramin’s normally cheerful boyhood look had faded since he’d last laid eyes on him. He seemed much older, grime creasing every line in his face, pain stiffening his movements. Darius wanted to give him a good, hot bath, several meals, and a chance to keep off his leg for several days. The only part of that he could manage in this makeshift camp was the meals and possibly several hours of keeping off his leg.
They entered the tent and Darius eased his burden down next to the brazier, knowing full well that Ramin had to be cold. His skin felt like ice. As soon as the man sank into the cushions with a sigh, he grabbed his own blanket from the bed nearby and pulled it around Ramin’s shoulders. “As soon as Roshan gets back with Behnam, I’ll send him out for food—”
The tent flaps opened to admit the general and Behnam paused just inside, taking them in with a troubled look. Roshan poked his head in long enough to give Darius a reassuring nod, then disappeared again.
Behnam studied the commander for a long moment before speaking in a soft voice. “Commander Ramin. I didn’t see many men return with you.”
“Not many survived,” Ramin responded wearily. “We were ambushed three days ago on our way here. At night. Even with the sentries, we barely had any warning. The barbarians hit us so hard and fast a few men didn’t even manage to roll out of their beds.”
Darius winced. The Roran barbarians were famous for the sneak attacks but still, “They attacked at night? I’ve never known them to do that.”
“I think it was the scent of food that drew them in,” Ramin admitted. “We’d barely gone to bed for the night. We were all tired, so we’d turned in immediately after dinner. They acted like ravaging wolves, sir. In fact, I think I’ve met starving wolves with better restraint.”
That didn’t surprise Darius much. “How many did you start out with? How many managed to make it back?”
“Started out with eight hundred, sir. Made it back with a hundred and fifty.” Ramin gave a grim nod when Darius swore, loud and long. “Yes, sir, that’s about how I felt on the subject. Praise any god you care to name that Tunheim met us on the road the next morning. He saw the situation we were in and immediately drew us up. The worst of the wounded he sent with a separate detail straight for Ruralcalba. That’s why I only have a little over a hundred with me. He said to tell you that he’d have all of the Baiji back in Ruralcalba in fifteen days, as he said he would.”
At least that was going to plan. Darius absolutely could not afford for the barbarians to know about the Baiji force, not yet. “The force that attacked you, how large was it?”
“I honestly didn’t get a good count, sir, not in the dark. We were forced to abandon most of our gear and retreat before they slaughtered us altogether. I’d guess two thousand or so. We were heavily outnumbered.”
That made sense. Otherwise Ramin would have pulled his men together well enough to fend them off. Even in those circumstances. “Did you see any signs of a larger force?”
“I didn’t, but Tunheim did.” From his shirt pocket, Ramin pulled out a single piece of paper, folded four times into a square, and passed it to Darius. “He drew out a rough map for you and marked locations, with what numbers he could make out. He spoke with me a little about what they saw before splitting off and heading south. There does seem to be a main force heading this direction.”
Darius unfolded the paper and looked at it. He finally had information, solid information, but part of him wished he hadn’t. “Tunheim estimates a little over seven thousand are heading straight for us.”
Behnam hissed in a breath between clenched teeth, reaching over to snatch the paper from Darius so he could see it with his own eyes. It trembled in his hands, nearly folding under the white knuckled grip. “Bresalier, that means we have roughly half the foot troops they do. And that’s if our other two parties return intact!”
The estimate likely wasn’t far off. Tunheim had seen roughly seven thousand, as had the Landersi Army, totaling fourteen thousand. Navid indicated roughly two thousand would be coming from Arape, making the grand total sixteen thousand. Possibly sixteen thousand.
A roiling, seething mass clenched at Darius’s gut, a feeling of dread that he didn’t need. The rule of war was to always, under every possible circumstance, have at least twice as many troops as the enemy. Unfortunately, he was entirely on the wrong side of that. Again. Niotan’s War had been the same. Even with the plans he had in place, even if he managed to maneuver them perfectly, they could be well overrun by sheer numbers. Darius might be able to somehow win the battle but it would literally decimate the Sovran army, leaving them vulnerable to the next attack.
This was so much worse than he’d expected, and Darius hadn’t expected good odds even in his wildest dreams. He felt in that moment that he looked Death right in the face.
If they managed to return home, it would be a miracle.
Dread shook him so badly it felt like his soul shivered. He fought to keep that feeling from showing on his face and had a feeling he failed miserably. “We have to somehow break their spirit. Convince them to not attack. Or find a way to decimate their troops before they ever reach us. It’s one or the other.”
“Break the spirits of barbarians with a berserker mentality?” Ramin repeated dubiously. He looked just as shaken, tanned skin paler under the strain of the situation. “Sir, I can honestly say that I’ve never seen a more bloodthirsty people in my life. Do you think you can manage such a thing?”
Darius honestly had no idea. “We best figure it out. Unless you think we can somehow manage to just beat them fair and square.”
Before he could even get the words out, both Behnam and Ramin shook their heads. Behnam pointed a stern finger at him. “I called you here for your mind. I do not want to fight those crazy cavemen any more than I have to. Think.”
Amused in spite of himself, Darius observed to no one in particular, “I apparently have my orders.”
~~~
Late the next morning, the troops Darius left behind finally caught up with them. Darius had been waiting on exactly that before retreating to their next camp. Part of him wished that Navid could be here as well, but the man had his hands full keeping the barbarians away from Arape at the moment.
They packed up and moved after lunch, not with any real haste, but calm competence. Darius felt more than thankful they had an excuse to move as the barbarians’ corpses had begun to stink during the night and getting away from that acrid, decomposing smell was a godsend.
Darius and Behnam rode alongside each other, their commanders and bodyguards trailing behind them. Squinting up at the morning sky, Darius estimated they had another three or four hours of riding before they reached the spot where they would set up a second camp. Plenty of daylight to work in. They didn’t want to retreat too quickly southward, just enough to make it obvious they had been ‘forced’ to retreat. The second place had a bit of a rise to it, nothing substantial, but enough to give them a slight edge if they needed it.
Glancing over his left shoulder, he saw Roshan twist in his saddle, looking behind him, then turning back around with a confused frown tugging at his face. Darius knew that look well. Usually it prefaced a barrage of questions and he found this silence on his apprentice’s face to be strange. Well, perhaps Behnam’s presence curtailed the boy’s natural curiosity. “Do you have a question, Roshan?”
Relieved, Roshan urged his horse to come alongside Sohrab before admitting, “More than one, sir. Can I ask?”
“We have nothing but time at the moment. Go ahead.”
“I’m not sure I understand why we buried only some of the bodies and made false graves,” Roshan confessed.
Roshan’s frown deepened, creating a furrow in between his brows. “It’s an illusion. That only a thousand of their soldiers could defeat more of us and force a retreat. They won’t find it strange that even though we were forced to retreat, we still stopped to bury the dead?”
“Like I said, life or death situation. All of the barbarian warriors died, so they won’t question that too deeply. We weren’t under imminent threat yesterday after all. But at the same time they’ll see us as weak for running even though we won that battle.” Darius paused, trying to find a way to put into words something he instinctually knew. “The Roran barbarians have this deep seated need to exploit their enemy’s weakness. It’s almost pathological. Especially with them so desperate, they’ll press forward rather than question the wisdom of doing so.”
“We’re baiting them,” Behnam pitched in, barely turning his head to join the conversation. “Throwing blood in the water, as it were. If they can defeat us, then they’ll have free rein to plunder the Sovran as they wish. They know it.”
The boy nodded, absorbing all of this. “And that’s why you want to use less camp fires tonight? To make it seem like we lost all of those troops?”
“By the time they catch up with us, they’ll learn differently, but camp fires can be seen from a very long distance away. It’s an optical illusion.”
For some reason Roshan had a strange, quirked smile on his lips.
Sovran at War (Kingslayer Book 2) Page 17