“Nonetheless, our brave boys continued to force the Pommerelians back towards a low ridge looming to the left of our line, or due east from our main army. No one gave any thought as to what this rocky formation might indicate. The enemy fought well, but we outnumbered them by a considerable measure, and as more of our brigades joined the fray, our progress was inexorable.
“The lay of the land tended gradually upwards as the Pommerelians successively retreated from position to position. We were now able to use some of their own trenches to provide cover to our bowmen and infantry, and this helped us considerably. We never thought that the attackers represented anywhere near the full force of the Pommerelian army, and we presumed, wrongly as it turned out, that we had merely encountered a larger than normal raiding party.
“By mid-afternoon, we had pushed them back to the ridge itself. Suddenly there appeared above us at least a thousand archers working from well-established and -chosen positions, who laid down a barrage such as I have never seen. The very sun was darkened with the flight of arrows that peppered our forces, and at least a thousand of our men now lay dying or injured before the Pommerelian lines. The very ground seemed to have sprouted a field of feathered sticks. I’m sorry to say, Lady Tirÿna, that your son, Hereditary Count Amánty, was one of the casualties there.”
Maurin bowed his head in sorrow.
“Oh, God, no!” the Countess Kosnick exclaimed. She quietly began to sob, and was comforted by her daughters and Lady Nolána.
Maurin sipped again from his winesack, and then continued.
“He was but the first of the many brave Kosnicki that I saw die that day. We fell back. We had no choice: it was either retreat or be slaughtered. We regrouped outside the range of those deadly bows, and the officers held an impromptu meeting to decide on our next strategy.
“‘What’s on the other side of that ridge?’ Prince Arkády asked. ‘Can we get around it?’
“The man Çévik, now chief scout after the death of Sir Léka, stepped forward.
“‘I believe it’s the river again, highness,’ he said. ‘We’ve been following it off and on for about twenty miles. The ridge should drop off steeply on the other side into the gorge, if it holds to pattern. Unfortunately, those of us who knew anything about this particular area were killed yesterday, so I can’t give you any more detailed information.’
“‘I hate committing our men without knowing what’s on the other side,’ the prince said. ‘Send out scouts to the north and south along the ridge, and capture any of the locals that you can find. Bring them back for questioning.’
“Then Prince Nikolaí spoke up.
“‘I believe we should disengage,’ he said, ‘and continue our advance on Balíxira.’
“‘We can’t leave an enemy force this large behind us,’ King Kipriyán said.
“‘If we move on,’ Nikolaí said, ‘they’ll be forced to engage us on open ground, where we have an advantage in numbers. Here, we’re being chewed to pieces.’
“But the king’s counsel prevailed, and they quickly decided to press the attack against the Pommerelian army. Four of the catapults were hastily assembled, and loaded with loose rocks. As soon as they were in place, the Altorfi Brigade moved forward. I could see the sun reflecting off their spear points as line after line of determined soldiers marched their way up that hill. Again came the whir of the arrow shower, followed by the ‘thunk, thunk’ of our engines flinging their stones at the Pommerelian lines, and the screams of those on the receiving end. Our bowmen also let fly their bolts, and soon I could hear the cries of hundreds of wounded men.
“The black-suited Altorfi flung their long spears as one, pulled their flashing swords from their scabbards, and marched doubletime straight at the Walküri battlements. Only a quarter of those who started up that long rise ever reached the top, and then they were locked in a nasty, hand-on-hand struggle to the death. We couldn’t see from below much of what was happening, until the dust cleared enough to reveal the Pommerelian lines still holding, and grotesque piles of bodies littering the slope in front of them. We groaned together as one.
“Then it was our turn, together with the Südmarki Brigade. I left my mount below, and we marched side by side up that long hill, jumping over the ditches and landing on the bodies of our comrades. All around us were the prone figures of wounded soldiers pleading for a cup of water, and the many others who were past anyone’s help. The stench was overpowering, and the flies buzzed around us by the thousands. We could hear the catapults working again to either side, trying to blast a way through the Pommerelian battlements for us.
“Then the arrows came, raining down on us like hordes of buzzing insects, pricking the blood out of those unfortunate enough to be bit by them. My aide Sülçis, who was marching right beside me, was suddenly struck down by two bolts hitting him in the chest and arm. He died almost instantly. Lord Gándesa, I’m sorry to tell you that I also saw your son, Hereditary Lord Khrysór, hit by an arrow in the leg, but I don’t know if he lived or died that day; I never saw him again afterwards.
“Above us we heard a terrible rumbling noise, and I saw several huge stones rolling down the slope toward us, obviously purposely dislodged. Those who were struck by them were instantly killed. They continued cutting through the troops behind us until they reached the bottom of the hill. As we crossed over one abandoned ditch, I noticed a black substance in the bottom. Then several fire arrows hit close around us, igniting the dark oil in the ditch, and burning some of the soldiers immediately following us. Their screams were terrible to hear.
“We had decided to retain our spears until the end, and when we finally reached the top of the ridge, we used them to impale the defenders and push them back over the other side. Then the enemy cavalry was there, pricking us with their lances, and a free-for-all ensued. In the end, though, our brave men carried the day, and just as the sun was starting to set, the enemy withdrew down the opposite slope toward the river. When we had a chance to catch our breath, we could see that the drop-off here was not nearly as steep as it had been further up the river canyon.
“We could not pursue them. Less than half of our two brigades had survived the charge, and we were totally exhausted from the struggle. Much to my surprise, before the sun went down completely, I saw some of the retreated Pommerelians splashing across the Falling Water River without difficulty. I also noticed a cluster of huts along our side of the river bank.
“Early that evening we were replaced by fresh troops who occupied the ridge, and allowed us to regroup back to the camp, where we managed to find something warm to eat. The officers were then called to another war council.
“‘What are our losses?’ asked good King Kipriyán.
“Prince Nikolaí said: ‘We lost four or five thousand men today, and the enemy just five hundred or a thousand, no more. They’ve stung us, no question. However, we now have the ridge and we should have the advantage tomorrow.’
“Prince Arkády ordered the chief scout to bring someone forward, and we could spy a scruffy old herdsman being led by a rope around his neck.
“‘Who are you?’ the prince asked.
“‘Just a sheepherder, milord,’ the carle said. ‘Folks ’round here call me Hal.’
“‘What is this place, Hal?’ Arkády inquired.
“‘This here’s the Schilling-Ford, sir,’ the herdsman responded. ‘Lived here all me life, I have.’
“‘Then the river is passable here?’ the prince said.
“‘Aye, lord,’ the old man said. ‘So ’tis. Only place youse can get yerself acrost, for a long ways up and down the creek, like, ’cept durin’ Ogust, maybe.’
“‘Where’s the Pommerelian army?’ Nikolaí asked.
“‘Dunno, lord,’ Hal said. ‘Been out with mah sheep for weeks. Dunno nothin’ ’bout stuff like that. Youse the first folks I seen ’n a long time.’
“We were all reading the man with our psai-rings, and could see that he was telling the truth
. Various lords and generals questioned him further, before they finally gave up in disgust. He was obviously a simpleton. We did find out that the village of Schilling had perhaps two dozen inhabitants, none of them very prosperous, and that the road was terrible, which perhaps accounted for the small amount of traffic that it saw.
“Ultimately, the king decided to press forward with the attack. If this was the main Pommerelian army—and some of us were still not convinced—then it was imperative that we find some way of destroying or damaging it as a fighting force.
“We went to sleep that night confident of our victory on the morrow. Far better, I now think, if we had all had nightmares about the days to come.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
“ANOTHER HOT DAY”
THE SECOND DAY: THE FEAST OF SAINT KOUIRIKOS
“The next morning promised to be another hot day. Even at sunrise there was a heaviness to the air that boded high temperatures by noon, or possibly sooner. We were a somber lot as we stowed our gear away, perhaps for the last time, and checked our weapons. I grieved for our lost comrades, but I knew that we had a hard day’s fighting ahead if we were to prevail.
“The patriarch blessed us after we had broken our fast, and promised us Heaven if we fought well. That comforted some, but worried others. The royal princes all went to their battle corps, in preparation for beginning the march. During the night, crews had removed the dead and injured to the rear, burying the corpses in a common grave, except for the officers, and tending to the wounded with the military doctors.
“Some of the officers trod their way up the slope again to the ridge, to espy what the enemy was doing, and to see the lay of the land. Down below was the small village, its houses, if one could call them that, scattered randomly along the near bank of the Falling Water River. The stream broadened here to more than twice the width that it had in the rest of the gorge, obviously making the depth considerably less in the process. The slope on the opposite bank, like the one on our side, was also less steep than usual for this canyon, with rolling hills just beyond, and highlands in the distance. We could see some Pommerelian emplacements here and there, but the details and numbers were unclear. There were also some soldiers or officers lined on the opposite ridge examining us, which was no great surprise.
“We had decided the previous night that the campaign would be managed from one of the old Pommerelian emplacements on our ridge, and that the two kings would remain there to direct operations. We were ready to march two hours after sunrise.
“Since our boys had been bloodied on the previous afternoon, the Kosnicki Brigade was held in reserve this day, and several fresh units were ordered to take the point. Their spears had been stowed, since the soldiers would only be hampered by them in trying to cross the ford, and they had been issued shields instead to help protect against the arrows.
“Five thousand men moved down the slope as one unit. My heart soared at the sight, for I knew that we couldn’t be defeated this day. The first ranks plunged into the cold river water, and then our men started falling for no apparent cause, jumping up and down in rage and frustration. The entire brigade came to a halt. We officers strained our eyes trying to see what was wrong. A messenger came galloping back up the slope.
“‘What is it?’ King Humfried asked, obviously impatient.
“The scout paled.
“‘They’re being stung, sire,’ he said.
“‘What?’ he yelled. ‘Pankratz,’ he said, ‘get down there and find out what’s going on.’
“Meanwhile, the entire army had stopped, bunching up on the shore, the units losing their order. Suddenly hundreds of yeomen appeared out of another ditch on the Pommerelian side of the stream, and loosed thousands of arrows on the unsuspecting troops. Our men began to bolt back uphill.
“‘Stop them!’ shouted Humfried.
“It took another hour to get the situation back under control. King Humfried insisted on having every twentieth man in his corps executed for cowardice. This greatly disheartened our troops. We did not need to lose any more men from our own actions.
“Finally, Prince Pankratz rode up with a partial explanation. Without saying a word, he handed his father a thin slab of wood studded with sharp iron spikes. Evidently, sappers had been carefully laying the things for the last several days, completing the task the previous night, by filling in the lanes they had left vacant for their own escape.
“After the infernal device had been handed around to the officers, the prince said: ‘We’ve also discovered some longer spikes, spears really, jammed into the deeper pools of the streambed. There’s no easy way to find and remove them manually.’
“We heard a commotion down below, and rushed over the edge. Some of the Pommerelian soldiers had pulled down their pantaloons and were taunting our boys with their bare buttocks, a wholly disreputable display of unprofessional behavior. They finally stopped when one of our yeoman stung one in the ass with a long shot from his bow.
“We spent some time then discussing the impasse, and had almost decided to withdraw and head for Balíxira when Doctor Melanthrix appeared, and examined the spikes.
“‘These were made of metal,’ he said, ‘so they would remain on the bottom long enough to have some effect. Even so, it will not be long before some of them begin moving out of position. Already they may have shifted. We have a way to counter this.’
“King Kipriyán smiled then, and a terrible thing it was to see. It was like the great gray wolf who suddenly realizes that his prey lies naked and vulnerable before him, and begins panting in anticipation.
“‘Do it!’ he said.
“Then the magician went back to his tent, and brought back some powders and phials and a book of spells. He stood on the highest point of the ridge and began chanting in a tongue I did not recognize, while simultaneously sprinkling powder over something in his left hand. Then he opened his fingers, and I saw that he held a small magnet there, nestled between his rings. He raised the metal on high, displaying it where the rays of the sun could strike it, and with his right hand threw down a phial that exploded with a burst of green light.
“‘Fiat lux!’ he cried, ‘like unto like,’ and the magnet seemed to pulsate with an aura of sunlight.
“Again he dashed a phial upon the rocks below, and it flashed a vibrant red.
“‘Fiat magnes!’ he chanted, ‘like unto like,’ and the stone began to hum.
“Finally, he threw a third phial down the slope, breaking it in a sudden display of violet light.
“‘Fiat ferrum!’ he shouted, and the water in the river began to bubble and boil as if it were a cauldron. Suddenly we could see black dots rising from the surface of the stream, and I knew these were the spikes that had stopped our men from crossing. Fifty feet into the air he raised them, and then dashed them all at once upon the Pommerelian lines.
“There were screams of anguish and shouts of surprise on the slope across from us, as the enemy soldiers were subjected to one of their own tricks. I do not think the Walküri suffered very many casualties from Melanthrix’s attack, but they certainly took a blow to their pride. For the first time in two days, we howled with laughter at the enemy’s discomfiture.
“The magician Melanthrix, however, had to be helped down from his perch, so tired was he. It had taken great power to leverage so much iron from the running water, but he had done it. Would that he had not.
“Already our brigades were moving back into position. The kings gave the order to move forward, and for the second time that day, our brave soldiers marched gaily into battle, pennants flying. This time, however, when they reached the river, they plunged right into the water, and nothing stopped them other than the clouds of pesky arrows that continued to nag our men. It barely slowed us down.
“More and more troops crowded down towards the shore, as our boys began to climb up the opposite bank. Strangely, however, they encountered no Pommerelian opposition other than the flying bolts. Perhaps, we thought
, this was indeed only a harassing force. We should have been more careful.
“The first indication was a distant rumbling noise, like a bear growling over a bad meal that had disturbed his stomach. I felt a deep vibration in the ground unlike anything I have ever encountered save the Paltyrrha temblor. We all began looking around at each other, trying to see what the trouble might be, when Prince Norbert shouted wildly, pointing upstream. There, coming rapidly ’round the bend, was a ten-foot wall of water. We determined later that the Pommerelians had dammed one of the small tributaries of the Falling Water a week or two before, in anticipation of this day.
“Our boys strove mightily to retreat up the slope, but in the press and confusion, only a fraction managed to escape. The flood swept away three or four thousand men, most of whom were drowned, plus all of the huts that constituted the village of Schilling. Although we rescued a few survivors a mile or two downstream, many of those who escaped were captured by the Pommerelians.”
Lord Maurin shook his head, and wiped a tear away.
“My friends, it is one thing to be killed honorably in the heat of battle, to have faced one’s opponent squarely and to have won or lost on the throw of the die. Every soldier lives with this possibility from the first day he enlists. But to perish so meaninglessly.... We then thought the Pommerelians the most dishonorable opponents we had ever faced, worse even than the barbarian hordes of Åvarsland, who at least allowed a man to die with dignity.
“There was no retreating now. The men wouldn’t hear of it. For us it had become a blood feud, something that we could not let rest until one side or the other was destroyed. Both kings agreed: this would be a battle to the death, with no holds barred.
“Curiously, though, there was a lull in the fighting. Our men were fed their midday meal and thoroughly watered, and we saw some of the Pommerelians doing the same. In early afternoon the trumpets blared again for assembly, and five thousand men prepared to march forward into death. I was still on the ridge with the officers, and I could hear the beat of the drums as the brave soldiers of Kórynthia strode down that slope towards the river.
Killingford: The Hieromonk's Tale, Book Two Page 14