Once all the companies are on the east side of the stream, Altyrn immediately sets fifth company to removing the bridge timbers. At Shaskyn’s look of questioning, he laughs softly and says, “You’re wondering about what will happen if the Meroweyans don’t come this way? Then they’ll have to go through the woods, and they’ll suffer losses there from the Verdyn … and they’ll still have to face us, but they’ll have fewer armsmen. If they don’t come at all, then they will have left to return to Yakaat or wherever, or they will find they have to before long. But they’re too stubborn and too convinced that they will triumph. They’ll be here, possibly tomorrow, probably by sevenday, and certainly by eightday.”
“Yes, ser.” Shaskyn moves off.
Altyrn turns to Lerial. “You and your company … I need you to dig trenches and revetments at the top of the bank. Make the trenches about a yard and a third deep and wide enough for two rankers to pass each other easily. That should give archers enough space. Pile the spoil into a revetment on the stream side of the trench. There should be enough shovels and mattocks in the second wagon.”
“How far do you want the trenches to go?”
“Start in the middle of the road and dig out. The farther the better.”
As Lerial turns to set his rankers to work, he cannot help but hear what the majer says to Kusyl.
“Once we have enough timbers from the bridge you use some of your men and mounts to drag them south one by one … so we’ll have a ford there … and a surprise…”
Lerial wonders what sort of surprise Altyrn has in mind, but smiles wryly, knowing that, whatever it is, it will not be pleasant for the Meroweyans. In the meantime, second company has to dig trenches and build up revetments, both to steepen the bank to make climbing it harder for any possible attackers and to provide greater protection against firebolts.
LXIX
The Meroweyans do not attack on sixday, but smoke rising in lines just to the southwest by late afternoon shows that they have occupied Ironwood. When the lines of smoke are still rising at eighth glass on sevenday, Lerial knows that the earliest an attack will come is on eightday, and that is fine with him, given that his order-sensing is finally at least as strong as it had been before his last encounter with the chaos mages.
He puts some of the Lancers to work extending and strengthening the ends of the trenches, and he watches for a time as Altyrn works with a handful of Lancers, showing them how to use the few spear-throwers that first company has made. You wouldn’t know where to start in making one of those. After a moment, his next thought is But you can divert some chaos-bolts, and that’s even more important. But is it? What Altyrn has done improves the strength of at least an entire squad.
Later that morning, Altyrn inspects the trenches and revetments. When he is finished, he turns to Lerial. “They’ve done a very good job here.”
“Thank you, ser. I just applied what someone taught me about trenches.” Lerial grins.
The majer grins back. “I told you no knowledge was ever useless.”
“Yes, ser. Still, ser … when they see all these revetments, won’t they just march upstream or downstream to find an easier place to cross?”
“I’m most certain that they will, and there’s a place a kay south that looks perfect.”
“That’s where you had the timbers dragged,” Lerial recalls.
“Exactly. The stream widens and is only a little more than a yard and a half deep, if almost ten yards wide. That part is almost fifty yards long, and the banks are less steep there.” Altyrn pauses. “There’s also an underground spring or stream that enters there, and the muddy and sandy bottom … well, the locals call it the bottomless sink. Scores once died there … or so the locals claim. At the very least, it ought to leave a lot of Meroweyans stuck or struggling there like grounded geese. I’ve had fifth company make tracks to and from the water on both sides as if that’s where we’ve been crossing since removing the bridge. We’ve also piled up the bridge timbers on the east side to form a revetment to block the only place where the stream bank is low.” The majer shrugs. “If they’re smart, they’ll just have their mages topple three or four tall trees here, and then swing them over the stream and send a slew of armsmen across. That would do the job … but it would likely cost them another company, maybe more. They’ll attack both places … and maybe try to cross farther north, even if the forest is thicker there. I’ve had some of fourth company staking the stream bank to the north … just within a yard or two of the water, and there are some locals with bows up there.”
“You’re giving ground and making them pay for it with troopers … until they have no more left.”
“That’s the idea. Whether it will work…” Altyrn shakes his head. “Second company is closer to full strength than any other company, and you’re down to four score or a little less, including you and the squad leaders. In rough terms, we’ve lost somewhere between a company and a half and two companies. They’ve lost more than ten. That leaves around thirty, twenty-five at the least. We’re still outnumbered five to one.”
“As opposed to seven to one when they arrived,” Lerial points out. “But we have to do better.”
Altyrn nods. “They’ll have scouts near here within a glass, if they haven’t staked us out already.”
For all that the majer has said, Lerial cannot sense or see any bodies of men on the west side of the stream whose name he does not know. Nor does he sense more than one or two over the course of sevenday, but those two are mounted, and likely scouts, although they never approach to closer than a hundred yards. They are good enough that even when Lerial looks right where his order-senses tell him they are, he still cannot see them. That worries him … a great deal. In time, one of the scouts moves south, and the other north … and another appears, if somewhat farther south and just out of sight … or where he would be out of sight if Lerial could even see him.
The scout moving north concerns Lerial, although fifth company flanks second, but that thought brings to mind his worries about his own fourth squad. He doesn’t feel solid about putting the archers either directly opposite the road or at the northernmost company position in the trenches, which is where they are at the moment. So he walks along behind the trenches until he finds Moraris.
“Ser?”
“We need to talk to the head archer.” Lerial would prefer to talk just with Alaynara, but that would be going around the squad leader, and could lead to problems he’d just as soon avoid.
“Ser?” questions the squad leader, again.
Lerial understands that, too, but he just smiles. “I want to hear what each of you has to say about where fourth squad should be positioned. She doesn’t have your experience, and you’ve not dealt with archers very long.” Lerial pauses just slightly. “If you’d have someone summon her…”
Moraris turns slightly. “Haelcyna … I need the head archer. Pass the word.”
“Yes, squad leader.”
Lerial looks at Moraris, thinking once more how the Lancer looks more like a trader, and asks, “Where do you think fourth squad would be most effective?”
“On the flank. Archers aren’t trained or armed to repulse a frontal attack.”
“That’s true.” Lerial nods.
Alaynara hurries toward the two, then stops and inclines her head. “Ser, Squad Leader?” Her voice is low and pleasantly polite.
“We’d like your advice,” Lerial admits. “If the Meroweyans attack from the road … if they do … where would be the best place for your archers?”
“Against a shieldwall front? What do you want us to do? For how long?”
Lerial almost blurts out, “Kill as many as possible, of course,” but realizes just before he does what she means.
“They’ll likely continue with the shieldwall,” he begins, although that is merely a calculated guess on his part. “They’ll try to shield those who will make the first attempts to cross the stream … try to get them as close as possible to the wat
er before exposing them.”
Alaynara nods thoughtfully. “We ought to be to the side some, not so much that we can’t shoot down the road if necessary, but we’ll have a better chance if we have an angle on the column.”
“How do you…?” Lerial shakes his head.
“In some ways, it’s like hunting. It’s hard to hit a red deer head-on. If you do, there’s a better chance of bringing him down with a single shaft, but a greater chance of missing if he moves suddenly. In fighting, it’s obvious that you want every shaft to count in some way. If you wound more, rather than just kill a few, the fewer that are left to fight.”
Lerial can sense grudging agreement from Moraris. “You two have the same general views. The squad leader doesn’t think your archers would be used to their best advantage in a head-on confrontation, and you think a slight angle will allow you to cover both the road and the attack. Good. We’ll leave first and second squads where they are, but I’ll have you and third squad switch positions.” He smiles. “Thank you both.”
When Lerial turns and leaves to inform Fhentaar of the change, he can sense a certain veiled amusement from Alaynara. Moraris does not seem upset, even possibly relieved that Lerial has not placed fourth squad closer to the bridge abutments.
Lerial continues toward the bridge, or where it had been, wondering when the Meroweyans will attack … and how.
LXX
Slightly before seventh glass on eightday morning, Lerial hears regular thudding sounds, but cannot see anything. He even checks the white and gray puffy clouds for lightning and thunder. While there are certainly flows of order that will likely bring rain and lightning later in the day, he senses nothing within the clouds immediately overhead. Scanning the road and the woods with his order-senses, he finally locates three men some hundred yards west of the stream and on the south side of the road. At first, for just a moment, he thinks that they are swinging at a midsized tree with blades, but almost immediately realizes that they are using axes to cut down the tree, which slowly topples. The axemen move to another tree. Lerial studies the area some more and finds that a squad of armsmen is drawn up near the loggers.
With that information, Lerial hurries along the ground behind the trenches, glancing to the east as he hears a mount whinny. He can sense but not see where the Lancer mounts are tied, in the trees adjoining the road, but a good fifty yards from the back of the trenches. He sees Altyrn in the shade just south of the road and behind the earthworks. Lerial also notices Donnael and Ruethana of the elders walking away from the majer.
Lerial glances up at the clouds once more, wondering if Ruethana is a weather mage as well as Donnael … and what they may be able to do, if anything, when the Meroweyans attack. A few yards away from Altyrn, he stops and says, “They’re chopping down trees, and they have at least an armed squad protecting them. They’re staying off the road and out of sight.”
“That makes sense. How long before they have enough trees to create a bridge, do you think?”
“They’re working fast, but they’ll have to trim the trunks as well. At least a glass.”
“More like two.”
“We could slow them down with arrows,” suggests Lerial.
“How many shafts would it take? Could they even get through the brush and trees? If you were successful, how many arrows would it cost us? And to what result?”
Lerial understands. “Yes, ser.”
“Let me know what else you find.”
“Yes, ser.”
Lerial returns to second company and keeps watching. Before long, the three loggers have felled two more trees of the same size. Other men have joined the first three, but the new arrivals work at cutting away limbs and branches, while the three initial loggers move on to another pair of trees.
Somewhere farther to the southwest, Lerial can vaguely sense both riders and a faint chaos mist, a good indication that the Meroweyans have left Ironwood and are approaching on the main road. There is no smoke rising from the woods, suggesting that the attackers have not put the hamlet to the torch. But then, no one opposed them there. So far, they have only fired the hamlets and towns where they were opposed. Lerial shakes his head. The Meroweyan force more to the west fired two hamlets. Then he reconsiders. You don’t know if the people there opposed or attacked them.
He takes a slow deep breath. There is so much he does not know, and he wonders if war is always like this … never knowing everything, and sometimes almost nothing about the enemy, and trying to outthink and anticipate what one’s enemy might do.
A glass later, the loggers have stopped felling trees. As well as he can determine from order-sensing, they have cut about ten trees, none of them particularly large, but all moderately tall and straight, and all of those around the trees are trimming them. In time, the men begin to move the tree trunks, all cut to the same length, until they are within a few yards of the grass and low brush flanking the road. By now, Lerial can sense the main body far more clearly, although they are still indistinct to his eyes, over a kay to the west on the road. The shadows come and go as the clouds pass over, seemingly closer together and larger as the morning draws on.
There are few woodland sounds, except for the traitor birds, several of whom apparently are taking delight in flying around the loggers in the woods, alighting on branches and offering their irritatingly cheerful and loud chirps. Only one of the traitor birds come near enough to Lerial so that he can see its yellow-banded black wings, but the calls that sound like twirrpp are identification enough.
Lerial senses someone approaching from behind, and he turns to see Altyrn walking toward him.
“Two glasses,” says Lerial. “You were right. The shieldmen are half a kay down the road, and they’ve got ten small to moderate tree trunks cut and ready to go.”
Altyrn nods. “They’ll bring up the shieldmen to give cover to the men who will carry the trunks toward the stream. Your Lancers and archers are not to fire at them. First company will. Unless something changes, you’re to target the main body, but not until they attack and I give you the order.”
“Yes, ser.”
Once the majer leaves, Lerial turns and tells Korlyn, “I need to talk to the head archer. I’ll be back in a few moments.” Keeping his head low, Lerial hurries northward along the trench until he reaches fourth squad, about thirty yards north of where the bridge had been.
“Squad Leader! Head Archer!” Lerial waits for Moraris and Alaynara to join him, then relays the majer’s instructions.
“The main body is out of range,” Moraris points out.
“That’s right,” says Lerial. “If all of second company looses shafts at a handful of men, what will we have left when two thousand of them storm down the road? The Lancers can use their blades on the handful that might get across the stream now.”
“Oh … yes, sir.”
Alaynara nods. “We’ll wait for your order to shoot.”
Lerial then hurries to Fhentaar, and then back to Bhurl and Korlyn to relay the majer’s orders.
Almost another half glass passes before a horn sounds and the shieldmen start forward, advancing until they reach a position just east of where the shaped trunks lie. They halt and raise their shields. Lerial can sense other armsmen coming forward and picking up the first two trunks, more than a half score to each. Even with that many men, the trees have to be pines of some sort. Oak or lorken would be far too heavy.
Once the two teams are in position behind the shieldmen, the shieldwall begins to advance toward the stream, steadily and stolidly. The main Meroweyan force has now moved up, but has halted on the road behind the point where the tree trunks lie, clearly waiting to see if the shieldwall and the armsmen lugging the trunks can create their own bridge.
Before long, the shieldwall closes on the western bank of the stream, less than fifty yards from the bridge abutment, when it edges toward the upstream side of the bridge foundations, and more toward second company, apparently trying to position the armsmen
with the trunks so that the logs will be anchored not only into the earth of the stream banks but rest against the foundation on one side.
First company’s archers do not even begin to release shafts until the first shieldmen are no more than a score of yards from the bridge abutments—except Lerial suddenly realizes that the shafts are not arrows but javelins hurled from spear-throwers with surprising force, enough in one case for the javelin to go through the upper part of a shield and into the chest of the shieldman. More than a few shieldmen go down, and the shieldwall slows almost to a halt before others step forward, and even more slowly, the shields advance, then stop a good five yards back from the abutments. Those shieldmen in the center swing out, opening the way for those carrying the tree trunk.
The armsmen carrying the first trunk charge full speed toward the stream, but a hail of mixed javelins and arrows takes down enough of them that they lose control of the log and it slips away and skids partway down the bank before burying itself in the softer earth just above the water. Lerial can see that the end of the tree trunk has been hewn into a rough point, and that means that the rankers intend to drive each of the trunks into the eastern riverbank, but he cannot see at first how they had planned to get it over the water—until he realizes that the armsmen at the front were trying to plant the point while those behind, with the help of the ropes tied to the far end would heave it upright and then let it fall forward onto the eastern stream bank. The simplicity of it strikes Lerial, but he also realizes that simplicity rests on the ability to lose armsmen in the process.
Then a second group of armsmen charge forward with their trunk. Although several fall to javelins and arrows, with great effort the end of the log goes up and slowly reaches a point straight up, and then drops, almost not moving, before speeding up enough that the end that had been at the rear comes down with a thump on the eastern bank, perhaps half a yard above the water and a yard and a half back from the edge of the stream proper. The trunk is angled slightly, but not much.
Cyador’s Heirs Page 50