Behind her, a huge boom! almost lifted them off their feet as the charge detonated. Pieces of wood flailed through the air, one meter-long chunk knocking down two archers. Shattered beams splashed into the lake and thudded to the sandy beach and onto the patchy not-grass. An audible groan came from the O’dai camp. Some of the workers at the second trebuchet were already running toward the third machine another forty meters downstream. It was already assembled, its beam arm horizontal, swung to be facing away from them and drawing lower at the end as men frantically winched it down.
“Doi’tam-fira'tachk! Take forty horse and attack the third machine, before it can throw! Then return immediately! You have less than one bhrakka! Move!” The big horseman wheeled his white mount and galloped to the attack, followed by most of the cavalry. To the south, more explosions sounded as Captain Og’drai’s ships - her navy, she suddenly realized, continued their bombardment of the O’dai positions. Smoke was rising into the cool damp air from a dozen fires among the enemy’s scattered gear.
“Archers, drive those men away from the second device! Move, lads! We have three more after this one! And let’s be a bit farther away this time, shall we?” At the second siege engine, one of the sappers had to climb up the beams to set the charge at the hinge. Leaving him to finish the job, they moved toward the third trebuchet, where her cavalry was engaged in a lively but lopsided skirmish with the unarmored construction crew trying to defend their work. As the heavy cavalry swords chopped up and down, suddenly the large horizontal beam swung up trailing severed ropes, pulled by the massive weight hanging from its near end. At the beam’s far end, a cradle holding a stone half as large as a bathtub, swept into the air. As the beam reached its zenith, the few remaining guy ropes parted and the entire structure began to topple forward. The stone left its cradle well past the vertical, and lunged down from the top of the beam’s arc. It whistled overhead and came down in a mighty splash in the shallows just a few meters short of the nearest steamship.
As though on cue, a shout arose from the O’dai, and a thick line of infantry three hundred meters long, a thousand soldiers both sword and crossbowmen, began a running charge across the plains toward their position.
“Rash’koi! Archers! Break that charge! Grenades at the center! Cavalry, roll up their left flank! Pike, positions! Go!” Kirrah unholstered her beamer and began snapping off targets in the approaching line. The air between it and her formation filled with a sleet of the deadly grenade arrows, which burst with satisfying results and left tattered gaps along forty meters of the approaching line. One hundred eighty meters, one-seventy, one-sixty and another barrage of grenade arrows ripped at the charging men. One-fifty and a volley of mortar rounds from the steamships dropped among the O’dai’s right flank, nearest the ships. Still they kept coming. One hundred forty meters away, their line was closing up, just over two hundred meters wide now, men stumbling and falling in the center again as a flight of bodkinpoints lashed down among them. More shouts and clatter from the right, sixty heavy cavalry breaking straight through the O’dai’s left flank like bowling balls in an alley.
Still the O’dai came on. Crossbow quarrels fired on the run fell in a spatter among the Talamae formation, taking down a few men. With another huge boom! the second trebuchet disintegrated into flinders and the sapper came trotting into their formation, looking pleased with himself. Another volley of mortar fell among the charging O’dai, most landing in front of the running men. Major Doi’tam had turned his cavalry charge into a textbook wheel maneuver, swinging around to run down the O’dai line from behind.
“Ready, Warmaster” called the sapper working on the toppled but intact trebuchet behind them.
“Hold, fire it as we leave!” Which might be soon; what does it take to stop those people? Kirrah muttered under her breath. One hundred meters away, the charge was melting, but not fast enough. “Pike, ready!” she commanded. “Archers, thin their right flank!” Eighty longbows pulled and let fly, and a second later the O’dai right flank disintegrated under the combined volley of her archers and the other hundred-twenty longbowmen who had just landed upstream. The heavy cavalry galloped into the O’dai center from behind, and suddenly the charge dissolved into knots of men scrambling to survive.
“Form up! Leave them to the cavalry, we have two more trebuchets to kill! Let’s march!” Three hundred meters farther around the curving shoreline, the fourth trebuchet was standing half assembled, like a crippled crane. Her formation set off at a trot, the newly-arrived longbowmen double-timing to catch up to them. A quarter of the way to their fourth objective, Kirrah turned to the frantic shouts of the sapper at the third trebuchet, which was lying where it had fallen. Just as the first of the new archers passed the jumble of beams, the charge ignited with a flash and roar, and men disappeared behind a cloud of smoke and flying splinters. More explosions sounded from the O’dai camp as ships’ mortars continued to find targets. Kirrah stood horrified while the smoke cleared to reveal a dozen longbowmen broken and scattered like chaff around the destroyed trebuchet. Another fifteen or twenty were reeling but on their feet. Her face a mask of anguish, Kirrah signaled the survivors to come on at a run, and followed her forces toward their fourth objective. Behind them, the steamships and oar-powered cargo boats were pulling out into the lake and following their progress along the shoreline.
In minutes, they reached the fourth trebuchet. Behind them, their cavalry had broken off pursuit of the remains of the O’dai skirmish line and were coming back at a trot. South across the plain, a horn sounded and the O’dai’s light cavalry could be seen in their camp, forming up into a column. At the sound of the horn, the lead rider in the Talamae cavalry visibly wavered, his big white horse starting a turn toward the O’dai formation. Not now, you big oaf! Kirrah groaned to herself… Ah, good Major! That’s it, come to mama, don’t play with the nice horsies on the other side, we may all live through this day…
“Pike, set up a perimeter, safe distance from the sapper’s charge, backs to the river! Archers, take your places in front of the pikes! Sappers, to it! This time I want oil on the beams, and a fuse we can ignite from a distance!” Another horn sounded and the mass of O’dai cavalry began moving, but not towards Kirrah’s position. They were heading toward the fifth and last intact trebuchet nearly two hundred meters farther downstream, where the lake emptied into the west-flowing river Geera.
“I want a sapper headed for that fifth trebuchet, as soon as the cavalry arrives to protect him! Signalman, call them to hurry!” A series of high chimes sounded in the air behind her, and Major Doi’tam’s horsemen broke into full gallop. Out on the river, the four steamships, still firing occasionally into the O’dai encampment, and the flotilla of a dozen cargo boats, were approaching around the bend in the shoreline. More notes on the horn, and the O’dai cavalry also broke into a gallop.
Kirrah’s cavalry arrived, just as the O’dai column split into two forces of about three hundred horse, one making for the fifth trebuchet and the other closing rapidly across the plain towards her position.
“Forget the fifth trebuchet, we’ll kill it from the ships! Ready ten men with fire arrows! Cavalry, behind the pike, both flanks!” The heavily armored horses and riders moved to either end of the line of Talamae soldiers.
“Sappers, lay all but two of your remaining charges on the not-grass thirty-five hab’la in front of the pike, short fuses, and soak oil around them. Archers, mark those spots and fire them when the sappers call it. I want them going off after the first three horses have crossed over them, understood?” The three sappers not occupied with mining the fourth trebuchet hurried onto the field, setting two of the ten-kilo demolition charges each, as deeply as they could into the springy ground cover about fifteen meters out. The O’dai cavalry continued their charge, their column eight horses abreast and thirty or forty long pouring toward them across the not-grass like an unstoppable freight train. Their horn was sounding a continuous blast. Kirrah was startled to hear
a raucous burst of laughter from several of her pikemen.
“Prax’soua-ro'tachk! Please share with the class, what you are finding so funny!” Was that an actual blush on the back of the brawny sergeant’s neck?
“Ahh, Warmaster, we were just anticipating your next surprise. No offense intended, we pity the O’dai!”
“No offence taken, just keep your mind on your work!” Like a found penny, the big man’s attitude irrationally lightened her mood. “Rash’koi-sana'tachk, fire at will, hold nothing back!”
At a hundred meters’ range, the first squad of eighty longbowmen cut loose with grenade arrows, while the somewhat depleted second squad followed with a hundred bodkinpoints. At eighty meters, the second volley was in the air before the first volley struck halfway back in the approaching column. At sixty meters, the sappers tapped the ready bowmen and fire arrows slapped into the not-grass in front of them, setting meter-wide blazes. At forty meters, the lead horsemen dropped in a tangled mess, as another flight of arrows bit into their front ranks. The column surged and parted around them.
“Archers back! Pike in position!” In a move heavily choreographed and thoroughly drilled, the two rows of archers stepped smartly back between the pikemen. The five-meter pikes, which had been held upright until then, lowered into a deadly picket of edged and pointed steel aimed at the oncoming cavalry.
The enemy column was recovering from their leaders’ fall, and picking up speed again. The horses leaped smoothly across the burning patches of not-grass, only to be cut down by another thick flight of arrows loosed from behind the pikemen. The column began to bunch up, horses dancing among the burning patches on the ground. The hail of arrows took merciless advantage of the confusion as the column’s momentum compressed the light cavalry together. Simultaneously two of the large demolition charges went off directly under the thickest of the melee, showering bits of horse and rider alike in a bloody horrid rain on the defenders. The back half of the column continued to charge forward, straight into the third and fourth explosions.
In the ringing silence that followed, a lone voice could be heard among the other half of the O’dai force guarding the fifth trebuchet, someone screaming orders. The fifth explosion caught a few of the dazed O’dai milling about, and as the sixth detonated in a thunderous flash, the O’dai broke and ran. Jeers and bodkinpoints followed them across the plain. Seconds later the rest of the O’dai, another three hundred cavalry trailing a few squads of infantry, began another charge, abandoning en masse their position defending the fifth trebuchet. No more demolition charges, Kirrah thought a little wildly. Behind her, the Talamae ships were drawing nearer.
“Pike, up!” A hundred of the five-meter shafts rose smartly to vertical. “Prax’soua-ro'tachk, show them what we do to cavalry! Archers, do your worst! Make them bleed for every hab’la! Cavalry! Wait for my signal, and stay together so the archers have clear shots!”
The heavy warhorses nickered and stamped, eager to re-enter the fray. At Lieutenant Rash’koi’s signal, nine squads of twenty archers each loosed in ripple-fire at the approaching light cavalry column. With a flight of twenty heavy bodkinpoints landing among them every second, the enemy formation shed horses and riders at an alarming rate. At eighty meters, a quarter of the enemy were down, horse or rider. At forty meters, a third. Kirrah opened fire again, beamer set to half power, taking rider after rider in the face or throat. At thirty meters, Sergeant Prax’soua barked “Pike down!” and again the long-shafted spears dropped level with the enemy. Two more flights of arrows shredded the lead of the charging column: twenty meters, ten.
With a resounding clash and a scream of men and horses, the O’dai cavalry impaled itself on the first and second row of leveled pikes. Pikeshafts snapped and shattered, but the second line held. The rest of the column crashed into the downed animals, themselves sprouting feathered shafts as fast as they arrived. The column divided in half and the tail end drove around to Kirrah’s left. Lieutenant Rash’koi’s archers kept the air buzzing with arrows, and men dropped from the saddle as they wheeled and drove at the Talamae left flank. Their horses balked and reared, refusing to run on the forest of steel-tipped pikeshafts facing them. Every second, another enemy or two fell to the murderous bodkinpoints. Another blare of the O’dai command horn, and to Kirrah’s utter astonishment the attackers dismounted as a man and charged into their lines with drawn swords.
“Doi’tam-fira'tachk! Now!” she shouted. The startled major looked, caught her eye, and gestured to his men. Thirty heavy cavalry wheeled around each flank of their formation.
“Second row, pike up!” barked Sergeant Prax’soua. They don’t know what they’re doing! Kirrah realized. The O’dai commander is trying every old, useless tactic they have, but they don’t know how to fight pike! Too baaad!… The hundred-fifty surviving O’dai beat their swords against the hardwood pikeshafts in a pathetic parody of a swordfight, dropping in place to the withering longbow strikes, and thrusts from the long pikes. A few men tried grappling by hand with the pikeheads or forcing their way between the shafts to close with their unreachable enemy, but were struck from above by the second-row pikemen or cut down by archers at point blank range. Seconds later the Talamae horse crashed into the rear of the now-desperate O’dai, heavy cavalry swords slashing and chopping into them from behind and pressing them against the merciless pikepoints.
Over the space of three heartbeats the din diminished, and suddenly an eerie silence fell, broken only by the panting of her men and horses and the moans of the injured. One fallen O’dai was sobbing uncontrollably, hands pawing feebly at the feathered shaft taken firm root low in the center of his breastplate. With an obscene choking, bubbling gurgle and rush of blood from his mouth, he too fell silent. Irshe turned from his place on Kirrah’s left and spoke solemnly, almost formally, into the silence:
“One wishes to congratulate our Warmaster. Every enemy falls before her wisdom and anshath’la. Talam thanks you.” As he saluted, the entire company joined him, then burst into loud cheers. When their cheers subsided, a more distant but vastly deeper cheer came from across the water. Looking to the north and west over the curved end of the lake, Kirrah could see the far shore crammed with thousands of Talamae citizens, cheering and leaping and running about like fans at a sports stadium. Winning fans. On the lake, the steamships were pulling up just offshore from her position. We can do this, she began to hope. We landed a fifth of our forces, and we routed them, siege weapons and all. We can drive them off or destroy them. Kirrah returned Irshe’s salute, turning slowly to take in all the soldiers in her company.
“You have all done well. Every lesson has been learned. You fight like a true firado’kae!” She used the term for ‘braid-of-three’, meaning every nuance of ‘synergy’, ‘strength-in-numbers’, ‘economy-of-scale’ and ‘sum greater than its parts’ that was contained in the Talamae word.
“Irshe, what is that?” She pointed southeast toward the O’dai camp. “There! Where the not-grass is, is changing…” More eyes followed her gaze. In an arc thirty meters wide, the low ground cover was shifting subtly from the yellowish-green to the slightly deeper green of a hoofprint or other disturbance in the growth. The arc was tracking briskly towards their position.
“And that?” She indicated the two teams of three horses and riders, galloping hard towards them on a parallel track but over a hundred meters to the left and to the right of the approaching disturbance. Puzzled mutterings confirmed that this was a new phenomenon to the Talamae as well. From the main O’dai camp, a line of men was forming up and beginning to march towards them. Kirrah raised her beamer and selected magnified view. In it she could see the three riders on her right, their horses carrying a single gray cylinder as large as her head suspended among the three by makeshift rope harnesses.
Swinging the small gunsight to the left she could make out the other team of three horses, linked by a similar harness, but in this case to a gray ring about twenty centimeter across. Something inv
isible was pulling the ring and harness out horizontally from those horses, towards the other team over two hundred meters to her right. Between the two teams, the faint discoloration of the not-grass continued its swift approach, its width varying randomly from second to second. Something about the sight made Kirrah’s blood run cold. As it passed a low spot where a few taller reeds and thin brush grew, every last standing plant toppled slowly in its wake as though before an invisible scythe. Suddenly the penny dropped.
“Nanowire! The Kruss gave them nanowire! Run! Run to the river!” Blank stares met her near-panic. Kirrah realized she had used the Regnum term, there being no Talamae equivalent.
“It’s an invisible knife! It will cut through everything between those teams of horses! Everything! Men, horses, armor!” Even Lieutenants in survival suits! C’mon, people, get it!
“Do not let them get you between them, there is no defense!” - except another piece of nanowire, or that nano composite they use for the ends. “Run for the boats! Swim! Move!” Suddenly everyone began to move at once, running down to the shoreline thirty meters behind them and splashing into the water. The steamships, standing just offshore, were already lowering their boarding ramps to receive the men. Four cargo rowboats were already on the bank, the remaining eight drawing close. Thank Murphy the shoreline is convex here, Kirrah calculated rapidly. However they maneuver the ends of that wire, there’ll be a small chord of land for us to stand on. A hundred meters up and down river, the lethal trio of horses was within eighty meters of the riverbank, and the disturbance in the grass almost as close to the Talamae position.
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