“All these commanders are hard, able and seasoned soldiers and who am I? I may be the king but I am barely twenty summers old. In their reckoning I would be considered only a new recruit.”
“Ah, but you are Riothamus and Warriormage,” Bini replied as he lifted each of his horses hooves to check for stones and injuries. His task completed, he looked up at Aran, “Even though you are young in years lord Arantur, you bear the responsibility and position well.” He grinned, “In all honesty do you think these veteran soldiers would follow you so unswervingly if you were lesser a man?” He shook his head, “I think not. Although you are Riothamus, you speak words of sense and have much instinctive knowledge about war and how to fight it. Those men respect you for it and rely much upon your strength.”
Aran chuckled mirthlessly, “As I in my turn rely on you, Darven and Alissa for my strength.”
Bini’s face softened, “Ah Alissa, she is a fine one and bears her plains heritage clearly upon her face. You have chosen well in her, Riothamus. She will give you much strength, love and loyalty.”
Aran smiled at that, “Bini I must insist that you call me Aran. I may be King and Riothamus to you, but really I am just an ordinary man who dislikes titles.”
The plainsman nodded, “Very well, however you honour me with your name, Aran.”
*
Dawn came, and with it the heavy storm clouds forecast only days before by the ever vigilant Weathermages. Aran only needed one glance at the threatening weather, and immediately ordered that the small leather emergency tents be unpacked, and set up as shelters for the soldiers not actively digging and preparing the traps and fortifications. True to Alissa’s prediction, the ground was starting to freeze, and initially digging was difficult. Finally the teams of soldiers broke through the semi-frozen layer of ground, and were able to make swifter headway into the courser grey-brown soil below. By late afternoon Aran took one look at his weary soldiers dragging themselves around the now broken ground of the ambush, and called a halt to the digging and ordered them to take a well-earned rest and a hot meal. Later, whilst walking amongst the diggings with his officers, Aran saw that the pits were now over three feet deep, and decided that in the morning the small stakes would be arranged, and hammered into the bottom of the traps with their top edges sharpened in preparation for the ambush.
*
With the increasing cloud cover, night fell suddenly and darkly, and there were dire predictions from the mage enclave that there would be heavy snowfalls overnight. Aran sat with his friends and commanders around the small fires and in low voices discussed the plans for the morrow, and all ventured opinions as to when the Thakur would be sighted. Most said that the ambush had to be ready by dusk tomorrow, however Aran felt that the defenses and traps needed to be complete by midday. Pulling his fur lined cloak closer about him, and jamming his felted wool hat about his ears, Aran stared into the night and felt sure, with his senses attuned to the darkness and quiet, that the Thakur would be upon them by early afternoon.
“If it snows heavily it will slow them,” Bini said at last, after listening to the low conversation. “If they have been abusing their horses they will not be able to push for speed through any heavy early winter snow. In fact…” and he paused, “I would advise that our army leaves the horses behind once the cavalry has made the first breach into the Thakurian ranks.”
Aran nodded, “I have been thinking along the same lines. This snow will be heavy and slushy, and the horses will soon churn up the ground turning it into a quagmire. Once the first ranks of the enemy are down, then the horses must be abandoned and the fight continued on foot.” He looked up and saw nodded confirmation from the other commanders.
Immediately Legion Commander Terdec leant forward. His tanned and lined face was eager with anticipation for the coming battle. “The Thakur will have spent and exhausted horses, and they will be easily brought down by well-placed attacks,” he said. “We must let the land work for us, and once the ground has become loose and slippery, we must dismount for our mounts will then only hinder us…”
“I agree,” Captain Taran was reflectively chewing his thumbnail. “The Guard is well trained in hand-to-hand combat. I heartily dislike the idea of fighting on horseback in such treacherous conditions, but we need to first break the initial Thakurian ranks.”
He looked across at Terdec and his eyes narrowed, “You spoke earlier of mounted Legion cavalry trained in the use of javelins and spears?”
The overall Legion Commander nodded, “Aye, it is one of our primary training techniques…”
Captain Taran smiled a tight smile, “Can we use these legio in the first sweep from the sides, to harass the enemy and drive them towards the traps and stakes?”
Terdec nodded, “Aye, as long as my horsemen are kept away from the traps. I’d soon as not lose men to our own defenses.”
“That can easily be arranged,” Aran said immediately. “It may be difficult to fly in this weather, but Earthmage Drayden has agreed to scout ahead for us, and give us a detailed report on the enemy’s progress. We will know in advance where and when to set the cavalry for the ambush to be fully effective.”
“How else will the mages assist?” Darven asked, whilst brushing from his heavy cloak the first fallen snowflakes. “How will they contribute to the ambush?”
Aran saw the white flakes upon his own cloak, and looking up into the night sky saw that the snow was already getting heavier.
“The Archmage has informed me that when they have received word that the Thakur are only an hour or so away, they will then create a dense ground fog to disguise our traps and hide our soldiers,” Aran answered. “Although falling snow and fog are rarely seen together, they may think it a peculiarity of the region and dismiss it. That is when we strike.”
“Will the fog clear away so our own troops don’t fall into the traps?” Darven asked.
Aran nodded, “The mages insist that it will hold long enough for the ambush to be concealed. Then they will alter the spells and bring in the natural west wind to disperse it.”
“So where are the mages now?” Terdec asked, looking about him.
“Sleeping…resting,” said a voice from the darkness.
The gathered men jumped nervously at the sudden voice, and looked fearfully into the snow-swirling gloom. Immediately the white hooded and cloaked Archmage loomed into view.
“The weather will make the creating and casting of the fog spells difficult, so the mages are resting to conserve their magepower for the attack.” Maran said, whilst holding his aged hands over the feeble warmth generated by the fire. “As I have said before, the mages must work within the natural laws, and it takes a great deal of power to halt the natural winds and movement of the snow and contain so large a storm front, in order to keep the fog from breaking early.”
He stared at the soldiers, “To you gentlemen, it may seem a simple thing for the mages to induce a ground fog, but to do so in this season, with snow storms close upon us will require long and complicated spelling, and great uses of the magepower.”
“Anything that can be done will be an advantage to us,” Captain Taran said quietly. “For only the Goddess knows how we will fare on the morrow…”
*
“We have received word!”
Aran straightened and saw Archmage Maran approaching, as Alissa secured the last of the buckles and clasps of the plate armour on his legs, and reached for the heavy quilted gambeson.
“So?” he asked as his blond head emerged from under the dark blue cloth. “What is the news?”
Maran leant over, and with some effort picked up Aran’s mail hauberk, wordlessly he handed it over.
“High Earthmage Drayden tells me the Thakur are advancing along this course and will be reaching the first of our traps and defenses in two to three hours.”
Aran looked up, “What are their numbers?”
“Drayden estimates a little over two thousand cavalry.”
A
ran nodded at the news, and carefully arranged the heavy folds of the chainmail hauberk in his hands. Quickly donning it, he belted it firmly around his waist, and attached the scabbarded King’s Sword to the leather.
“The arming cap, mail coif and aventail now Alissa,” he said. “They are there upon the saddlebag…”
Alissa nodded and picked up the headgear.
“Do they ride fast, despite this heavy snow?”
Maran nodded, “They seem to have no care for their mounts. Drayden said that he has seen a number of dead horses behind this Thakurian advance force, and that many are riding double on already overworked and weary horses.”
Aran’s face tightened, “I see in this the mind of their Warleader. With this magepower of hers she drives them on with no thought to how they will fare once the horses drop beneath them.”
“They are driven indeed,” Maran agreed. “The commanders must be warned that the Thakur will not fight like ordinary men. With the mage strength of the Warleader within them, they will be hard to overcome.”
Aran nodded, “I have warned them. However despite being mage driven they are but mortal men, and we have the advantage of the ambush.”
*
Aran stood with the silent ranks of the Guard in the thickening fog, and stretched out his awareness to find the enemy. Almost immediately he found them, and then instantly drew away.
“They are more to our right,” he snapped to one of the legio messengers. “Take immediate word to your commanders that once the enemy is sighted the Legions must sound the horns and push the Thakur further left.” He glanced up at the cavalryman who was already swinging the head of his horse around, “Take care for your safety soldier, and make certain you are not seen by the enemy.”
The legio saluted and cantered off into the thickening mist, somehow finding the right direction to his fellow soldiers despite the gloom.
“I cannot hear them yet,” Darven said quietly.
“I am not surprised,” Aran replied. “This fog seems to swallow all sound as well as sight.”
Aran felt a movement by his side and he looked down to see Alissa emerge from the mist.
“Where are they?” she asked.
Aran pointed, “To our forward right. They have slowed with the fog but they still drive their horses hard.”
Alissa stared out into the fog and the heavily falling snow, “I wonder what they are thinking?” she mused.
“Most likely cursing the fog and snow, and wishing for their warm beds,” Darven remarked dryly, “Although if they are really mage driven, they may be thinking of nothing much at all.” he added ironically.
Aran turned to Alissa, “You must return to the mages. I cannot allow you to fight here.”
Alissa nodded, “I was just going. I only wanted to tell you look after yourself and that I love you and should anything happen….”
Aran swung around, and picking up Alissa, held her to him and kissed her hard, stopping her words completely. For a moment they clung together, and then Aran regretfully put her gently down. With his helmeted head close to hers, and his gauntleted hands framing her face, he urged her to go.
“Alissa, I will fight easier knowing that you are safe behind us with the mages.” He smiled grimly, “Although you wear a mail hauberk for your protection, it still does not give you leave to fight with the Guard. Instead keep safe and assist the Healermages when the first of the injured are brought in.”
Alissa nodded and smiled a shaky smile, and then with many backward glances, hurried to where the mages waited in safety.
*
“They are not far now,” Bini murmured, the plainsman seemingly barely visible to Aran through the heavily falling snow and swirling mist.
“Aye…I can sense them near,” Aran replied his awareness although warded now, still easily picking up the thought-emotions of the Thakur. “They are filled with a nervous energy but seem to mask themselves with overconfidence. They see only the fog and snow, and are already lusting after our women and lands.”
“How far now?” asked Darven nervously, drawing his deadly longsword
“Moments only,” replied Aran coldly, as he secured the mail aventail to his helmet to protect the lower part of his face.
“It already feels like hours.” Darven said. “By the Goddess I feel sick to my stomach. There is nothing in the training that prepares you for this! Nothing…”
“Aye,” Aran breathed, staring about him at the silent, almost invisible ranks of Guardsmen and legio around and behind them. Although this army of his boasted five thousand soldiers, due to the all-enveloping mist Aran could see only the few immediately about him. “Prepare yourselves,” he hissed to the Guard immediately drawing the faintly glowing King’s Sword from the scabbard that hung from his side. “They will be soon driven upon us…”
Just at that moment, the strident sound of horns could be heard being blown from their forward left and right, and the ground began to shake as over a thousand mounted legio galloped in on the ranks of the enemy.
Aran lifted his sword and slotted his shield in next to Darven’s and called out, “Slow advance all! Do not break formation until at the last.” He turned his head to survey the ranks spread out at his back, “All behind keep formations, and do not break your shield walls. Strike when the enemy lies within spear or sword reach,” he cried.
Ahead, invisible in the heavy fog, could be heard the fierce cries of the horses, and the screams of the enemy as they fell to the thrown javelins of the mounted legio coming in from the side. The drumming of hooves was closer now, and there were more sudden screams, both equine and human, as the Thakur, realising their peril, were coming to grief in the treacherous sloppy snow and hidden spiked traps and pits.
“Increase pace!” Aran snapped. “Keep formation.”
Immediately the Guard and Legions behind walked quicker, whilst ahead of them the invisible mounted battle raged.
Suddenly and without warning the first of the enemy were sighted.
“Ware all!” Aran shouted. “The enemy is upon us!”
Next to him Aran could hear Darven’s sudden intake of breath, as ahead and through the now lifting, moving fog hundreds of unhorsed dark haired, pale featured figures could be seen running towards them, battleaxes, swords and deadly looking maces upraised in their fevered hands.
Suddenly there was noise all about him, and the world was filled with men fighting a desperate battle in the snow and sleet. A figure loomed up, dark clad in a spiked helmet, blackened leather and bright metal scale vest, and wielding a blood splattered battle axe. Aran immediately fell into the accustomed progressions, bringing down his opponent with a hard slash across the throat. The body toppled forward spurting blood onto the ground. Darven at his right brought his sword down, his opponent almost cleft in two by the ferocity of the Wolf Leader’s attack.
The Guard were hemmed in by the sheer numbers of attacking Thakur, and Aran immediately gave them the signal to break formation so as they could operate independently, finding their own space for fighting. Aran, Darven and Bini fought back to back against the running Thakurian swordsmen, their own private spearhead against the howling enemy.
“They are running onto our swords,” shouted Darven over the din.
“They are mage driven…” Aran shouted back, even though Darven was at his shoulder. “Keep pushing forwards. Use our wedge against them…”
Suddenly, still more of the Thakur were appearing out of the thinning fog. All seemed to have lost their mounts in the carnage of the attack of the mounted legio, and the horror of the pits. All were howling obscenities against Aran and the Guards. All seemed driven towards where Aran was fighting with the Wolves…
“They are concentrating their attack upon us…” yelled Bini, fighting hard in the melee.
“I know!” shouted back Darven. “We must keep with the rest of the Guard, and not let ourselves be separated…”
Then the relentless flow of Thakur burst over t
hem, and suddenly the trio and the Guard were fighting for their lives. Desperately the soldiers of Andur’s Keep fought to advance against the murderous onslaught. Aran looked back, hoping that the mages would somehow notice the Guard’s plight and intervene. Mechanically his sword rose and fell before him, hewing each crazed face down. The wind moved sluggishly, and for just a moment the mist cleared, and he looked back and saw the mages clearly in the safe distance. To his horror and deep anger they stood still, their hands hidden within the folds of their grey robes.
Filled with a sudden cold rage, he swung his sword across to decapitate yet another black-armed Thakurian who rose up before him. “We must look to ourselves!” he screamed hoarsely to the Guard. “Expect no help from the mages…”
Aran caught an answering shout from Bini, and with another relentless rush the Thakur threw themselves upon the Guard, and his companions were immediately swallowed up by the fog and snow, and Aran was alone for the first time since the battle had begun.
Moving mechanically, the tempestuous sound of battle ringing loud in his blood and mind, Aran strode through the battlefield the ranks of Guardsmen moving like ghosts about him. He advanced, slaying each enemy in turn, before implacably going onto the next frenzied face that rose before him. After a time he ceased to see things clearly. The world became red with blood and anger, the faces of his enemies in his mind were not human—instead skull-like visages stared at him as he cut them down—they ceased to be the faces of men.
Another enemy soldier ran up, fully intending to spit him on a pike. Negligently Aran cut him down, the man’s cries of despair and agony a mere whisper against the rage rising loud in his ears. A knot of enemy swordsmen ran forward, but any plan of overwhelming him with force came to nothing. Immersed in a cold, hard anger, Aran killed each and every one of them, hewing off arms, legs and heads with calculated abandon. Aran found himself sinking into a nightmare world, a surreal landscape of twisted bodies and hacked limbs, and as he strode through the growing carnage, a small voice within his mind cried out at the horror of the things he did and saw—the voice of Aran as a child, of innocence lost.
The High King: Book Two of the 'Riothamus' trilogy Page 25