There Will Be Dragons tcw-1

by John Ringo

  “Now to see… ah, hah,” Edmund said as a straggling group of orcs, apparently led by one of the plate-armored riders, came in sight of the herd at the base of the mountain. The fate of the cavalry was also clear from where the rider stood but it wasn’t clear if he knew there was a palisade blocking his way. He looked up the hill where the Raven’s Mill cavalry was waiting and then waved the group of about fifty of the Changed up the hill.

  “Now we’re to it,” Edmund said. “Alyssa,” he continued, raising his voice. “Get over with a few bowmen. Let’s see how long we can keep this a surprise.”

  Alyssa dismounted her whole troop, and three of her horse archers moved over to the gap. The orcs struggling up the steep slope were easy targets and Alyssa’s archers began feathering them one after another as the others clearly prepared to defend the plateau. Some of the orcs, when hit, kept coming, pushing the arrows through their injured arms or sides, but others were killed and it quickly was apparent that the position was too well defended to be taken by the small force. The rider called them back and sent one of the uninjured Changed back in the direction of the main force.

  “Come on, get a move on,” Herzer muttered, looking through the vegetation that covered their trench.

  “Oh, they will,” Edmund said. “If they try to continue on, they know that Alyssa can sally out and attack them from behind again. They can block the defile at the base or chase her away up the mountain.”

  It was quickly apparent that “chase her away” was the plan as most of the enemy force began to appear in the valley.

  “Okay, everyone down and get your helmets on,” Edmund called. “Do not look up until I tell you or I’ll have your decurions run a sword through you. Alyssa, you have to be our eyes,” he added, putting on his own helmet.

  “They’re deploying. They have some archers too,” Alyssa said as a few arrows whistled up the slope and fell harmlessly on the plateau. “They don’t have much of a chance from there, though.”

  “Are they following the trail or spreading out?”

  “Right up the trail,” she said, nocking an arrow and firing. “They’re coming up very dumb.”

  “Good, fire a few more arrows and then look as if you are out,” Edmund said. “Longbowmen, prepare to stand up.”

  “They’re coming straight up the trail. Some of the archers are stopping where they have shots.” She fired again. “But they’re no problem. Two hundred meters… one fifty… They’re spread all down the trail, about a hundred of them. Fifty meters…”

  “ARCHERS UP!” Edmund called, standing up himself.

  Herzer couldn’t see what was happening but he could hear and see the firing of the archers on either side and hear the screams from down the trail. The archers had placed arrow barrels all along the trench and he could see them pointing out particular targets and laughing as the inhuman enemy fell along the way. Finally Edmund shook his head.

  “Stupid, stupid. I have to agree with the bunny.”

  “When do we stand up?” Herzer asked.

  “When they have a chance of making it up the hill,” Edmund chuckled. “And right now they’re clambering over bodies, which is making it hard. Damn, they’re retreating.” He rubbed his chin and shook his head. “And what are they doing elsewhere?” he asked rhetorically. He turned around and looked at the sun, which provoked a sneeze, then pulled out his small mirror. Herzer could now see that there was a clear spot in the middle and some sort of grid. Edmund lifted it and flashed up the hill for a moment and then waited. After a moment, Herzer could see a flag raised against the sun which twitched for a moment then lowered and raised, twitching again.

  “Thank the Lord for stupidity in our enemies,” Edmund said, twitching the mirror again. “They’re turning their whole force around and heading back this way.”

  It was noon before the full force was arrayed at the base of the mountain and Herzer had ordered the troop to eat another cold ration from their packs. They were running low on parched corn but by the end of the day they should be able to dip into their meal and have something cooked. Just after noon Dionys put in his attack, sending his orc fighters straight up the trail again as his archers tried to move up the steep hillside through the trees to get a shot at their enemy archers.

  The longbowmen began feathering the Changed again but this time the orcs were crouched behind their shields and some of them were making it up the trail. Finally Edmund nodded. “Herzer, get the tree in position.”

  “Triari! To the ropes!” Herzer called, scrambling up himself and getting a look at the battlefield for the first time since the early morning.

  The first thing that he noticed was that the trail was choked with arrow-filled bodies, the horses and cavalrymen already starting to bloat in the sun. Farther down the trail there was a spray of orc bodies and a line of orcs, bent under their shields, scrambling over the bodies to try to reach the defenders. At the sight of the Blood Lords some of them stopped and screeched defiance, then came on under the weight of the fire, stumbling from time to time as an arrow found its way past their shields. As they got closer this became more common since the archers were firing from the sides, and even with their large round shields the orcs’ bodies were in view to either side. Herzer could almost feel sorry for them as they came forward into the storm of arrows but he had other things to worry about as the triari took up the ropes and pulled.

  The tree was a fully mature chestnut and very heavy. It took all their straining to get it moving up the hill but after a moment it slotted into position in the gap in the defenses, the trunk well up the hill and the branches pointed towards the oncoming enemy force, creating a well-nigh impassable tangle on the downhill side.

  The Blood Lords fell in on their positions and took up their shields, standing in a silent, disciplined line along the wall. To either side the archers continued their fire, slower now as they began to weary from the continuous draw and fire. They were less accurate as well as they fatigued and some of them were switching out for their assistants, stepping to the side and massaging their weary shoulders.

  “Swords,” Edmund said as the first of the Changed approached the parapet. They had struggled around and through the branches of the felled tree and now clambered up the trunk, scrabbling at the stakes of the palisade. The first raised his head up in front of Cruz and fell back with a broad split in the side from the short, broad sword of the Blood Lord.

  For a moment it was hot work all along the parapet as the Blood Lords hewed at the clutching arms of the orcs raising themselves up the parapet but there was no easy way for the Changed to force themselves past the soldiers. For the Blood Lords it was like a drill. They simply hacked and jabbed at whatever target was presented to them, keeping their shields up and forward to prevent being hacked at in turn. In short order the attackers fell back down the trail leaving a line of their dead and wounded piled against the parapet and being feathered in the back by the archers at either end.

  The battle had not been completely one sided. Several of the Blood Lords were living up to their names with slashes on arms, battered helmets, or shields. But their heavy armor had been proof against most of the thrusts of the enemy and no one was killed except one of the archer assistants who had been caught up by one of the powerful orcs and dragged over the parapet to be hacked to death.

  “Well, that was interesting,” Edmund said. “Consolidate your force, Triari. Post battle chores.”

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Almost everyone was red-splashed by the battle and one of the first orders of business was to clean their armor and weapons. After that, Herzer got to work, setting some of the force to work on the wounded while others repaired the limited damage to the defenses. The orcs had tried to pull the stakes down from the parapet but they were well driven into the ground. A few had been hacked nearly through, but they were quickly replaced with spares that had been laid up before the battle. At the same time one decuri was given the duty to stand sentry and otherwise the
remainder had been told to eat, rest and work on their gear.

  All three squads had been given a chance to eat and rest before Edmund called them back to the parapet. The archers were back at work but this time the attacking force was led by some of the plate-clad figures, which didn’t make Herzer happy at all.

  “There’s nothing you can do with a regular sword to plate,” Edmund said to the Blood Lords. “But the arrows will go right through it at short range, as can your pilums if well driven. This is the place for the pilums, and lay your construction tools to hand; we’ll show them how armored men-at-arms die.”

  The plate-clad men-at-arms were obviously making heavy work of climbing up the hill and as they closed, the primary archers took their positions, sending carefully aimed arrows into the joints at neck, elbow, knee and the vision gaps of the visors. The men-at-arms tried to keep their shields up but they could only cover one side, and the archers on the left flank were striking them hard. As the armored figures got closer, the arrows began to punch straight through their armor and they fell by the wayside. For that matter, the Blood Lords could get their pilums in play. The pilums couldn’t penetrate the armor but they could penetrate the shields and when they did the soft steel heads bent down, adding their weight and leverage to the already unwieldy shields. The fighter then had to stop and try to extricate them, leaving them open to the archer fire, or try to come on with the spears stuck in their shields, which made them virtually useless. There had been only fourteen in the group, by the time they were at the top there were five.

  “Let them cross the parapet,” Edmund said in an amused tone as the first reached the top. “Step back,” he added, stepping forward.

  The armor-clad figure got a hand over the top of the parapet and hoisted itself up, almost falling into the interior and raising its shield and sword against the Blood Lords to the right.

  By doing so he turned his back on Edmund who stepped forward and brought his great hammer down on the back of the figure’s head. The thick steel of the helmet crumpled under the blow and the figure pitched forward on his face.

  “That’s the technique,” Edmund said. “Get them separated, stop them with your shields in one direction and then bash them down with the axes and mallets.” As another came up the parapet he smashed the hammer down upon the fighter’s hand, eliciting a scream and a clanking sound as the fighter fell off the parapet and began to inexorably roll down the steep mountain’s flank. “And, of course, don’t fight fair.”

  There were only three of the fighters left and they were finished off in a similarly brutal fashion. The last caught sight of Herzer and raised his visor in desperation to reveal the visage of Galligan, one of Dionys’ cronies.

  “Herzer!” the man gasped, out of breath. “Please God…”

  “See you in hell,” Herzer ground out and drove his pilum into the man’s face. He walked along the trench and flipped up visors.

  “Benito’s here as well,” he said with satisfaction.

  “Feel better?” Edmund asked as the first of the figures was tipped over the parapet to slide down the hill into the next wave of orcs.

  “A bit,” Herzer admitted. “I’ll feel much better when he’s dead,” he continued, pointing down the hill to where McCanoc could be seen striding up and down.

  “You’re not supposed to enjoy this,” Edmund pointed out.

  “I don’t enjoy killing people,” Herzer said then shrugged. “Okay, there are a few that I get some satisfaction from. But I also don’t get all wrapped up about it. Does that make me sick?”

  “Not if you don’t enjoy killing for its own sake,” Edmund replied. “Some of the archers and your fellow soldiers are puking themselves sick. But that’s just one end of the reaction to combat. Some people are like you, they just do it and go on. As long as you don’t get to enjoying it too much.”

  “I like the competition,” Herzer said. “I really like the winning. Even if it means the other guys die.”

  “Then if you survive for a while you’ll make a pretty good soldier.” Edmund smiled as McCanoc called back the last of his forces. “Hell, you’re already making a pretty good soldier.”

  After a brief consultation between Dionys and a few of the armored riders, one of them rode towards the defense and stopped out of bowshot, waving a white rag on the end of his lance.

  Edmund stood on the parapet and cupped his hands. “Come forward if you want to parley. Any tricks and you’re going to look like a porcupine.”

  The rider worked his horse up the hill slowly as the half-trained horse shied constantly at the smell of the blood from the bodies. A few of the attackers were still alive but the rider didn’t pay any attention to them, simply riding around their outstretched hands.

  When he reached easy shouting distance of the Raven’s Mill line he stopped again and raised his visor.

  “Him I don’t recognize,” Herzer muttered.

  “Sacrificial goat,” Edmund guessed. “So, do you surrender?” he called.

  “No,” the man said with nary a flicker of humor in his grim visage. “But we call upon you to do so. If you do not we’ll simply swarm your silly palisade and kill you all.”

  “You should have tried that at first,” Talbot replied. “Now you’re already down, what? Fifty? A hundred fighters? And the rest aren’t going to be exactly ecstatic about attacking.”

  “Leave now and we’ll permit you to live,” the horseman called. “It’s the best deal you’ll get.”

  “Give us McCanoc and all of the survivors that participated in the rape of my wife along with anyone who was in the sack of Resan and we’ll let you live,” Talbot replied contemptuously. “Oh, and head back to your hole. Then we’ll let you get away alive.”

  “Is that your last word?” the armored figure asked.

  “That’s my final answer,” Talbot replied with a grin. “Come on to it. We’re just getting warmed up.”

  The horseman shook his head, then headed back down the hill. At the bottom he conferred with McCanoc who simply lifted his finger at the hill and gave a very ancient symbol of contempt.

  “Now to see what they’ll do,” Edmund mused. “Tell the troops to get a bite to eat. I’ll go talk with McGibbon and Alyssa.”

  Herzer passed the word and sat himself down to eat. The smell of the bodies was rising up over the palisade and between that and the cries of the wounded, for water among other things, it was not one of the best meals he’d ever had. But he managed to choke it down. Finally Edmund came back, chewing on a bar of monkey, and nodded at something down the hill. “He was serious.”

  The whole force had gathered at the base of the hill, with the armored figures in the center by the trail and the archers and Changed arrayed to either side. At a gesture from McCanoc, the whole force started up the hill.

  “He’s got some tactical sense,” Edmund said. “He knows that with us in his rear he can’t get to the town and that we can obviously outmaneuver him on the hills.”

  “So what are we going to do now?” Herzer asked nervously. The small force on the hill was outnumbered nearly a hundred to one.

  “See how many of them we can make die,” Edmund said with a chuckle. “And then, run away.”

  Herzer heard the horses start up the defile and looked around involuntarily.

  “Eyes front,” Edmund called. “They come up the hill and we kill them. Not much more to it.”

  The orcs moving among the trees were a poor target for the bowmen so they concentrated on the armored figures moving up the trail. Again the figures dropped, one by one, but behind them was a tide of orcs and as they ascended the trail the surviving enemy bowmen reached a position to start to fire back. Their bows were lighter than those of the Raven’s Mill archers but they scored, mostly among the archers and their assistants. The archers shifted fire to get rid of them and in doing so gave the armored men-at-arms the chance to scramble up the hill unmolested.

  The men-at-arms on the trail were making much b
etter time than those on either side and they reached the palisade first. Again there was the desperate struggle around the giant tree as the armored figures burst over the palisade. Herzer waded in with a will, swinging a giant mallet used for driving in the stakes of the palisade, and his corded muscles brought it down with enormous force. But it required two hands to wield and one of the armored men-at-arms got past it, giving him a deep slash on his shield arm. However, in a brief flurry of battle all of the armored figures were down and it was time to deal with the orcs that followed them.

  Herzer found himself in the thick of that battle as well. He picked up a dropped pilum and drove it down the hill into the shield of one of the orcs, then stooped to pick up his shield, drawing his short sword as he did so.

  “BLOOD LORDS TO ME!” he called, slashing at the grotesquely Changed figures clambering over the parapet.

  He found Cruz and Deann on either side of him and the three managed to get the shield wall reformed as the tide swept up the battlements. Then it was time to forget; all they did was hack and slash at the enemy in front of them, sweeping at exposed arms, dropping their shields just long enough to drive them into feet with an over-the-top jab at the face, covering their shield brethren.

  In the midst of it, Herzer could sense Edmund moving to either side of him. Wherever the line needed bolstering, suddenly the hammer of the baron would crash down and an orc or two or one time three would be smashed back over the parapet in a welter of blood.

  Herzer didn’t know how long the battle went on; it was simply hack and hew, just like training, except for the screams of the orcs and the occasional grunt from either side of him. Finally the tide turned and the only people standing in the trench were the defenders from Raven’s Mill.