They nodded.
“Alright.” He turned and watched as the gray men, whipped along by their lasher overlords, spilled to each side of the road, forming a line two ranks deep. Aram estimated their numbers at three or four hundred, easily outnumbering his two hundred men, but Aram felt that if the Derosans kept good order and remembered their training, the gray men would not be able to stand against them, especially when attacked on both flanks.
The other way, perhaps a mile to the north, on the outskirts of the village, the men of Derosa had formed their triple line and had begun advancing. The steel tips of their pikes flashed in the sunlight.
Aram looked skyward. “Lord Alvern?”
“I am here, Lord Aram.”
“Is this the total of our enemy, or are there more?”
“There are more, my lord – though none on this side of the river. Those that you see before you will be all that you face for about the space of an hour. But the others are coming.”
“How many?”
“Less than these.”
“Thank you, Alvern.”
The gray men, followed closely by the lashers, of whom six apparently were harbigurs, dressed their ranks and began to move forward toward the line of Derosans. Aram looked down at the back of Thaniel’s head.
“Are you ready, my friend?”
“Yes. What is your plan, Aram?” Inside Aram’s mind, the horse’s voice sounded stilted, constrained.
“Are you nervous, Thaniel?”
“I am, my lord. Those larger beasts are very dangerous. Will the sword work the same way a second time?”
Aram nodded, even though the great horse could not see him. “Yes – I’m sure – I think so – I intend to find out.”
“What is your plan, my lord?” Thaniel asked again.
“When the gray men are opposite, while there is still distance between them and our men, I want to go straight at the lashers behind their line – quickly. Remember, my friend, straight at them, as fast as you can go. Can you bear the sound that the sword makes?”
“I barely hear it, my lord.”
“I wonder why that is? – it nearly splits my skull apart.”
“I have no answer.” The horse said stolidly.
The gray men came on and the Derosans marched toward them down the road. In ten minutes more, the bristling lines would meet.
“Well,” Aram said, watching the enemy come up level with their position, “it is about to sing again.”
Thaniel charged out of the trees, followed by the rest of the horsemen. Aram drew the sword and held it aloft, catching the full light of the morning sun. The strange blade erupted in song, and flames appeared along its length. Fire shot skyward from its tip. Aram’s heart rejoiced. He had discovered a new and potent use of the gift from the gods.
Arrows whisked over his head, falling toward the enemy in a smooth parabolic arc. Wamlak’s archers were doing their duty, and several of the missiles found their mark. One of the lashers – though not a harbigur – stumbled. Aram’s confidence and pride in his companions soared.
The gray men went on, driven by their commanders, but many of the lashers turned to face this new threat bursting from the trees. Another hail of arrows from Wamlak’s archers fell among them and two more stumbled and went down. It appeared that there would be time for one volley yet before Aram and Thaniel were among them. Despite the pain in his head from the singing blade, Aram grinned to himself as familiar fury rose. The battle was going as planned.
A commotion arose to his right, from the Derosan side of the field; hoarse yells that sounded above the noise of hooves and roaring lashers. He turned his head to look.
Over on the right of the Derosan line, several men had broken ranks and had surged forward. Shouting in anticipation of blood and victory, they were charging ahead of the line, straight into the ranks of the enemy. Leading them was a large, confident figure that Aram recognized – Mallet’s cousin, Aberlon. Aram felt a chill go through him.
“No!” He screamed at the top of his voice. “Get back into line!”
But the distance was too great, and the twenty or so men with Aberlon were completely caught up in the sudden exuberance of battle. They charged resolutely ahead, straight at the enemy, the more fleet of foot among their ranks pulling ahead of their fellows. In the center of the line, Donnick was restraining the others, keeping them in order with an effort.
Aram looked to his front.
Most of the lashers had turned toward him and the horsemen, drawn by falling arrows and the flashes of light emanating from the sword, but at least four of their number, two of whom were larger and carried halberds, had moved ahead, through the ranks of gray men, toward the scattered men of Derosa that charged ahead of the line. The chill inside Aram became ice.
Joktan had warned him that there were men that lost themselves in the heat of battle, who actually enjoyed the thrill of the fight. He had told Aram that such men often gave the rush of fighting precedence over military order, and that such men could easily ruin the best laid plans of any general. Aram had had trouble understanding this – the only emotions that he had ever felt strongly while engaged in battle were fear and fury. The one usually preceded – and then was utterly consumed by – the other. But he had never enjoyed the fight – or found it thrilling.
More arrows fell on the lashers, a few only, but though it was a limited volley, it was also targeted. Wamlak, evidently, was learning the art of war while engaged in it. Clever man, thought Aram. One of the great beasts, a harbigur, went down, but did not stay down. Another of the smaller lashers turned back, stumbling toward the rear, clutching at a wooden rod protruding from his face. A second of these targeted volleys arced over Aram and fell into the ranks of the enemy, thinning it further. Then he and Thaniel were past the right flank of the gray men and closing on the beasts.
Aram dropped the sword and thrust the blade toward the clump of lashers. Fire erupted and sizzled into the group like a bolt of lightning. Screams sliced through the air, but Aram realized with a sinking of his heart that most of these came from his right. The errant Derosans and the lashers had come together. Without looking – he didn’t have the leisure to do so anyway – Aram knew that death had come to the field and had found some of his men.
The blast of power from the blade instantly killed two smaller lashers and badly wounded a harbigur, but there were still a dozen capable of fighting. These had formed a line and prepared to meet his charge. Once again, he raised the sword, but the distance was closing rapidly and he had no idea how long it would take for the blade to rebuild its reservoir of power.
Thaniel was charging, and this time Aram let him go.
At the last second, just before they crashed into the line of lashers, he leveled the sword at them again. Power exploded from it; intense light momentarily blinded the beasts. In the ensuing confusion, Aram went to work, laying about with the sword on all sides, severing heads and limbs. The sounds of battle intensified to his right – Donnick and his infantry had made contact with the main body of gray men.
Then the screams of wounded and dying men came from behind as well. Findaen and his cavalry had crashed into the enemy’s flank. A deepthroated roar arose in Aram’s immediate vicinity, and as Thaniel plunged, and he dealt death with the sword, blurs of black and gray and occasionally white flashed in and through the mayhem. Shingka and her wolves had arrived on cue.
The noise and the dust increased. Aram concentrated on destroying lashers, especially the harbigurs, considering that task to be primarily his; but the attack of the wolves, surprisingly, was also having a devastating effect on the great beasts. Wolves were quick and low to the ground. Two or three would sweep past a lasher, doing severe damage to the muscles of the beast’s lower legs; if he went down, his throat was ripped by another, following behind. If he didn’t go down, there was another pack on him in moments, tearing at his legs as they passed.
Aram was impressed by this display of the wo
lves’ fighting prowess. Shingka had said that they didn’t fight in an “organized” manner; from what Aram could see, their natural instincts made up very well for the lack of any planning. One of the harbigurs had been able to turn and face an imminent attack and had brought his huge, wide halberd into play. At least two wolves had fallen that would not rise again, but the great beast was being circled by others.
Aram found himself without opponents and sent Thaniel into this last beast as he rotated his massive body to confront the wolves that tormented him. As Thaniel swept by, Aram removed the great beast’s head with a stroke, and then turned toward the main battlefield, in order to help the Derosans.
But Donnick and Findaen had also done well. The line of gray men was badly frayed; many were actively looking for routes of escape from the field. Except for those that had charged ahead, the pikemen of Derosa still showed a solid, bristling front, moving through the gray men like harvesters through wheat. Those of the enemy that tried to turn and flee from those deadly pikes faced the wrath of Findaen’s troopers and their swords. Wamlak and his archers dropped those that attempted to escape into the fields on either side of the battleground, bringing them down with short burst of arrows. Any that got past Findaen or Wamlak ran into Shingka’s wolves, still eager for blood.
It was over in another half-hour. None of the enemy survived. Aram went over the field and made sure that no lasher would ever breathe again. Donnick’s men did the same with the gray soldiers.
Two wolves had died. Another, a cousin of Shingka’s named Gorfin, was slashed badly along his left rear haunch. Aram washed the wound with water, and applied a poultice. Gorfin would be stiff and sore for several days, but would hunt – and fight – again. Some of the horses had suffered minor gashes and cuts; none were seriously injured.
Aram went across the field to the north where the surgeons were kneeling down, hard at work on the fallen bodies of several Derosans – those that had charged ahead with Aberlon.
Aberlon was dead. A halberd or large sword had nearly decapitated him. Three others were also dead, all from the group that had broken ranks. Four more were badly injured – these were those that attracted the attentions of the surgeons. There were others that had suffered wounds, from the small group of men that had gone ahead and from the main ranks as well, but none were hurt too seriously, mostly minor cuts and abrasions.
Aram felt sick as he looked upon the bodies of his fallen soldiers. Though they had died largely as a result of their own foolhardiness, ultimately they had died because of his decision to take them to war. As he watched the big man, Mallet, weep over the body of his cousin, the words of Joktan came back to him.
To be a good general, Aram, you must love the army, and you must revere every soldier in it as a brother. But – to be a good commander on the day of battle, you must be willing to sacrifice every life, including your own, to attain the army’s purpose – which must always be to defend the freedom of your land and your people.
There was nothing he could do here. He did not want to intrude into Mallet’s grief and the surgeons were doing their best to save the others. And there were more enemies coming across the river.
He found Donnick. “Form your men again, Donnick, there are others coming. The cavalry and I will go ahead into town and check on their strength and try to delay them and cause as much damage as we can. If there are very many however, it will fall to you and your men yet again.”
The tall, somber man inclined his head. “We will be ready – more so now that we know what to expect.”
“Yes, well done, Captain.” Aram agreed. “Alright, then, I leave it with you for now.”
He gathered the horsemen and the wolves and they turned southward toward the town. Aram glanced into the sky.
“Are there many more, Lord Alvern?”
“No, there are none coming. They witnessed the battle and they are running – back across the river to the west.” The eagle answered. “The larger beasts – there are less than ten – are killing those that run. They have become your unwitting allies, my lord.”
Aram looked down at Shingka, running alongside Thaniel, and then turned to Findaen. “Come, both of you, bring your people. Alvern says they are running. Let us make certain that they keep running – or die.”
Thaniel lunged ahead, followed by the others. As they swept into the town, looking for any enemies, Aram had glimpses of frightened people, peering out through cracks in doorways and open windows. Terror had come suddenly among them, disrupting their lives and they were not yet sure of its meaning, whether it would be for good or ill. Death had come for their terrible masters, yes, but maybe it had come for them as well.
Aram found a main thoroughfare, running between the two and three story ruins of once substantial and very fine buildings and turned westward along it, making for the river. He looked back at Findaen and yelled above the thunder of the horses’ hooves.
“Take half of the men – scour the streets on this side of the river.” Findaen nodded and Andaran swung aside. Aram could not see the great white wolf, but knew that she was nearby and would hear him. “Shingka,” he said in his mind, “send half of your people with Findaen to cleanse this side of the river from enemies. The rest of us will go beyond.”
“Yes, master.”
There was a broad space between the town and the river’s edge where, it appeared, there had once been wharfs large enough to accommodate sizeable ships. There was a bridge arcing over the Broad several hundred yards north. Thaniel turned toward it, thundering across broken remains of wooden docks. As they approached, a lone lasher, followed by about a dozen gray men, bolted out of the street fronting the bridge and tore across the span at top speed.
Aram and Thaniel turned onto the bridge, followed by the others. The great waters of the Broad spread beneath them. Aram was amazed at the size of the river and the engineering prowess that it had taken for the ancient citizens of Stell to span it. The bridge was wide enough for two oxcarts to pass each other without undue caution. The bridge arced only slightly upward as it went but the span was so broad that he was well above the surface of the river by the time he reached the middle and started down the gentle slope beyond.
They caught the gray men just past the center of the span. Those that Thaniel did not simply run down, Aram slew with the sword as they thundered through. They caught the lasher a few dozen yards beyond that. The beast turned to face them, but Aram cut him down, slicing through the torso without the great horse slowing. Then they hurtled off the bridge into the neighborhoods west of the river.
The streets were empty. Aram sent a question skyward. “Where is the enemy, Lord Alvern?”
“Most are on the road beyond the Stell that leads to the northwest. The larger beasts still chase them and kill them. There are some, but few, behind you. Findaen and the wolves are dealing with them.”
Shortly afterward, as Aram and Thaniel drove through the town toward the approaches to the Stell, they began to see evidence of the harbigurs’ wrath in dealing with their cowardly compatriots. Bodies of gray men and occasionally smaller lashers lay scattered here and there along the route, all of them badly slashed and mangled.
They crossed the bridge over the Stell and turned northwest onto the road. As they left the town’s confines, Aram saw ahead of him four harbigurs, their huge halberds dripping with blood, loping to the northwest, chasing a group of gray men, beyond which there were several more of the smaller lashers, also fleeing. He held the sword above his head so that it caught the full light of the sun. Wamlak and his troopers fell behind, but moments later a volley of arrows sailed over Aram’s head toward the harbigurs. They did little damage – most in fact missed, as the beasts were running – but Aram was pleased that his men on this day were acting very much like soldiers. Wamlak especially was showing a firm grasp of tactics.
Realizing that they were pursued, the harbigurs turned to fight.
As Thaniel rode down upon them, Aram swung th
e blade in a series of small revolutions above his head, letting the sunlight touch both sides, riling the flames to a state of agitation, ignoring the fierce ringing in his skull. He was still learning the properties of the sword and even in the midst of the fight he meant to experiment with it at every opportunity.
From twenty feet away, as the giant lashers spread their massive legs, raised their halberds and prepared to receive them, Aram leaned out to the right and thrust the sword at them, aiming low. Lightning sizzled out of the blade and struck the ground beneath the lashers’ feet. There was a tremendous explosion of light and sound.
Thaniel slowed. When the dust and smoke cleared, one beast was dead, another badly hurt and the others struggling to regain their feet. Thaniel spun around them in a tight circle while Aram leaned out and dealt death. It was over in minutes. As Aram was finishing his business with the lashers, Wamlak and his men swept past and rode down upon the gray men further up the road. Aram went after the remaining lashers beyond them. Afterward, he sent Wamlak and his troopers further up the road and out to both sides, making a thorough sweep. If anyone escaped to tell Manon of that which had occurred on the plains far to the south of his tower, Aram meant to deny them an easy escape; they would have to go overland, through the wilderness.
It was still early morning; the sun was less than three hours in the sky. Aram went back to Stell. While Wamlak scoured the countryside to both sides of the road leading northwestward, Aram sent Donnick and his men throughout the town, telling its citizens, men, women, and children from both sides of the river to gather on the plains east of the city. Findaen and his men went into the villages scattered about the countryside in order to accomplish the same thing. For the next three or four hours, first in clumps and then in trickles, people came out of the city, filed across the bridges and collected at the edge of the trees.
Kelven's Riddle Book Two Page 49