David Gemmell - Rigante 4 - Stormrider 1.0

by Stormrider [lit]

  ‘I’ll leave what I can. Just twenty-four hours, Ring, then you and your men should break out and scatter. Go home would be my advice.'

  'Take care, general,' said Kaelin, reaching out and gripping the man's hand.

  'You too, Ring. It was a rare pleasure to lead the Rigante.'

  Kaelin moved to the doorway, braced himself, then ran across the open ground, dropping flat behind the low wall. The impact caused his shoulder to burn, and he felt the warmth of fresh blood oozing from the wound. Ignoring the pain he pushed on, reaching the abandoned buildings beyond the marketplace. Rayster was there, with around fifty men.

  'What is happening?' asked the clansman.

  'The army is pulling back to Eldacre.'

  'About time,' said Rayster.

  'We stay and act as rearguard for twenty-four hours.'

  'They'll be long hours,' said Rayster dryly.

  Korrin Talis squirmed across open ground and joined them. 'They seem to have pulled back their snipers,' he said.

  'I noticed,' said Kaelin. 'Let's not get complacent, though. We need to spread out more. Tomorrow we are going to need to look like a much larger force.'

  'If we spread too thin we'll not be able to concentrate firepower,' said Rayster.

  'Once the concerted attacks begin tell the men to fall back to the church and outlying buildings. We'll make a last stand there.'

  'Maybe the Stormrider will come galloping to the rescue again,' said Korrin.

  'Not this time. Go and speak to the men. Tell them that if any wish to leave they can. We all have families back home. They should at least be offered the chance to return to them.'

  ‘I’ll do that,' said Korrin, 'but no-one will leave, Kaelin.'

  'I know.' Suddenly he laughed. 'If anyone had ever told me I'd be risking my life so that Varlish soldiers could make a withdrawal I'd have laughed in his face.'

  'Some of those boys are fine lads,' said Korrin, 'Varlish or no. And I like Beck. I'll bet there's a touch of clan in him somewhere.'

  Korrin moved away to spread the word among the men. Rayster remained with Kaelin. 'How is the shoulder?'

  'Painful.'

  'You were lucky. I thought for a moment he had speared your heart.'

  'Came close.' Kaelin grinned. 'Lucky for me that Eldacre lad was close by.'

  'Aye, it was luck. Let's hope it holds. I'd like to see Sorrow Bird again. I love that lake.'

  'It's a beautiful spot right enough.'

  Kaelin settled down on his back. The hard ground felt soft as a feather bed, and he lay there thinking about the man who had saved him.

  Enemy musketeers had almost broken through. The Rigante rushed in, and with the aid of some Eldacre men turned them back. As the enemy were retreating one of the musketeers had run at Kaelin, his bayonet lancing into the clansman's shoulder. Kaelin had fallen. The musketeer loomed above him, his blood-drenched blade poised to strike through Kaelin's heart. A young Eldacre volunteer had leapt at him, knocking him from his feet. A shot sounded. The Eldacre man spun and then toppled to the ground. The enemy musketeer rose again. Kaelin pulled his Emburley from his belt and shot him in the head. Then he scrambled to the Eldacre man. He had been hit just under the breastbone. There was little blood and his face had gone grey. Rayster appeared alongside. He patted the dying young man's shoulder. 'I thank you for your courage,' said Kaelin.

  'I've got a wife and youngsters,' whispered the man. 'Will I live?'

  'No, lad,' said Rayster. 'You are mortally hit.'

  ‘I’ll burn then,' he said. The Source will burn me.'

  'You'll not burn,' said Kaelin. 'A brave young man like you, fighting for your homeland. Nonsense.'

  'I've done . . . bad things.'

  'We all have,' Rayster told him. 'But today you gave your life to save a man you didn't know. That will count.'

  'I know him. He's Kaelin Ring. I saw him once - back in Black Mountain.'

  'I used to go there often,' said Kaelin. 'Were you in barracks there?'

  'Yes, but I saw you walking with your wife. I was with my family. I waved to you. You remember? By the stream?'

  'Yes,' said Kaelin, though truth to tell he did not. Tell me your name, and if I live I shall find your family and tell them what you did here today.' The man whispered his name, and then reached up and gripped Kaelin's arm. Pain from the bayonet wound flared, but he showed no sign of it.

  'I will burn for what I did,' said the man, tears in his eyes. Tell her I was drunk. Tell her that I am sorry. Tell her . . .' He sagged back. A tremor went through him and he died. Kaelin eased the dead fingers from his arm. He was still pondering the young man's death when he fell asleep.

  Rayster woke him with the dawn. Kaelin sat up. 'Have we not withdrawn?' he said. 'I heard no wagons.'

  There has been no movement,' said Rayster. 'Obviously Beck changed his mind. Maybe the enemy have moved behind us.' The clansman glanced across towards the church. 'Now there is an idiot!' he said, pointing towards an officer walking across the open ground. The man seemed to have no care. He waved at Kaelin as he approached.

  'Get down!' shouted Kaelin.

  The man grinned and walked over to where the two Rigante lay. Then he crouched down. The enemy have pulled back,' he said. 'Our scouts report they are moving south-west. The woods are empty. No snipers. No infantry. No cannon.'

  'Where is Beck?'

  'The general sent me to find you. He is at the church. Faith, sir, but it's a miracle, is it not?'

  Kaelin did not answer. Moving swiftly he dashed across the open ground and made his way to the church. Beck stepped out into the morning sunlight just as he approached. A troop of Eldacre cavalry were riding up towards the wooded slope beyond.

  'Is this some strategy of theirs to cut us off?' asked Kaelin.

  'It can't be,' said Beck. 'They've surrendered good ground and pulled out. By heading south-west they've also freed the eastern supply lines. None of it makes military sense.'

  'What do we do?'

  'Hold our lines until we get orders from Eldacre. The Source just smiled upon us, Kaelin Ring. I don't know why, and I don't care. Perhaps the Moidart is a religious man.'

  'If he is it's not a religion I'd choose to follow.'

  On the second day following the surprise withdrawal of the southern armies the Moidart summoned his generals back to Eldacre for a strategy meeting. Scouts had reported the enemy armies were converging on a point some forty miles south of the town and regrouping. The force was estimated to be close to forty-five thousand strong, considerably less than even the Moidart had dared hope.

  Even so, the defenders were still heavily outnumbered.

  The meeting was held in the Moidart's east-facing apartments. The sun was shining brightly in a clear blue sky, its light streaming through the high arched windows. Around the table sat Garan Beck, Gaise Macon, Kaelin Ring, Ganley Konin and Ordis Mantilan. Bael Jace and Bendegit Law were scouting to the south.

  Ganley Konin was the first to speak. A slim, well spoken man, he had been a cleric in Varingas for twenty years, and had only become a soldier upon the outbreak of the civil war, purchasing his commission in a cavalry unit. He had proved to have a fine eye for ground and had been promoted steadily to the rank of colonel. An argument with the doomed Lord Person had seen him transferred north into the army of the Finance. 'It seems to me, sirs, that we have a respite. No more than that. There is no indication that the enemy intends to withdraw south. It is my view he will advance in full force upon the town.'

  'I agree,' said Garan Beck. 'What I don't understand is why. His plan was working. We could not have held out for more than a few weeks.'

  'I believe I have the answer to that,' said the Moidart. 'Our seer, Powdermill, reports that there is no longer any indication of Redeemer spirit activity. He thought at first that the Orb of Kranos had been overused, and was in need of replenishment. That, however, is not the case. The Orb is no longer with the Redeemers. In short, Winter Kay is without any sp
ecial powers now. He has panicked, and drawn his army around him like a wall.'

  'Then now is the time to strike him,' said Kaelin Ring.

  'Given a few thousand more men I would agree with you, lad,' said Garan Beck. 'The truth is we simply do not have the manpower to launch an attack as swiftly as it would be required. As far as I can tell we have around eleven thousand men fit enough to fight, and another two thousand recruits who don't know one end of a musket from the other. Given another week we might add more, and train those we have. I don't believe we will have another week.'

  Ordis Mantilan spoke next. A commander of musketeers for twenty years, he was a short, stout man, with a shock of tightly curled greying hair. 'I'd like to know two things,' he said. 'First, how did Lord Winterbourne lose the Orb of Kranos, and, more important, where is it? If it is as powerful as has been claimed we could surely use it ourselves.'

  'I have it,' said Gaise Macon. The room was suddenly silent. All eyes were on the young general. 'It cannot - must not - be used. To do so would unleash an evil upon the world far in excess of anything Winterbourne would bring.'

  'Then why did they not unleash it?' asked the Moidart.

  'They couldn't. We could. The skull is the last remnant of a Seidh lord named Cernunnos. He seeks a return to life.'

  'It is a magical relic, no more,' said the Moidart. 'Winter Kay used its power. So should we.'

  'It is more than a relic, Father. Believe me. The spirit of Cernunnos lives. I have spoken with it. I have also listened to the Wyrd, who brought the skull to me. Cernunnos transcends evil. He cannot be allowed to return.'

  'She gave you the skull?'

  'Yes, Father.'

  'How did she acquire it?'

  'Winter Kay gave it to her at the Wishing Tree woods.'

  The Moidart shook his head. 'Perhaps you can tellus why he would have done something so monumentally stupid?'

  'Cernunnos possessed him. He forced him to it. The god needs Rigante blood to live again. That is why he seduced Winter Kay into coming north.'

  Slowly and carefully Gaise explained all that the Wyrd had told him of the history of Cernunnos. How he had once plunged the world into war, and of how his own son, Rigantis, had beheaded him with a golden sword. The officers listened in silence. When Gaise had finished Kaelin Ring spoke. 'I do not know anything of Cernunnos,' he said. 'I do know the Wyrd. When she speaks it is the truth. If she says this god cannot be allowed to live, then he cannot be allowed to live.'

  'I was not talking about him being allowed to live,' said the Moidart. 'Winter Kay found a way to use the magic. Why can we not do the same?'

  'For the answer to that,' said Ganley Konin, 'perhaps we should look at Winter Kay. Look at the work of his Redeemers. Treachery, murder, massacre, burnings. They are vile men and their deeds shame us all. Would we become as black-hearted as they?'

  The Moidart interrupted him. 'We don't have time for theological debates, or philosophical discussion on the nature of evil,' he said. 'Men have been killing each other for centuries without need to blame skulls or relics. However, since my son is adamant about the need to avoid using this weapon let us move on to more practical matters. How do we, with thirteen thousand men, set out to defeat the enemy?'

  For another hour the debate raged, and when it ended there was no clear plan. Gaise had said little during the discussions. As the officers left, the Moidart called out to his son to remain. When they were alone he poured him a goblet of wine. 'What is it you didn't say?' he asked.

  'What do you mean?'

  'Damn it, boy, you are the war leader here. You made that plain when you returned. Yet you have just sat in near silence while lesser men wittered about impossible plans and ludicrous tactics. What is it? Tell me.'

  Gaise looked at his father, and took a deep breath. 'Cernunnos wants me. He needs me to take the skull and in some way accept it into myself. He will then have my body, and will have returned.'

  'Why you?'

  Gaise was silent for a moment. 'I looked into his face, Father. He and I have the same eyes. We are like . . . brothers. Perhaps that is why.'

  'This talk of evil and good is beginning to bore me to tears,' said the Moidart. 'You say the skull cannot be destroyed. So, if they defeat us they will have the skull anyway. If this creature is truly some ancient god then he will find some other man with Rigante blood. It is inevitable.' The Moidart poured himself a second goblet of wine. 'Though why someone with the powers of a god would want to rule men is another matter. I would have thought there were better ways for a god to spend his time.'

  'He wants to eradicate mankind, Father. He believes we are a plague upon the earth, that we are - and will remain - savage and unbridled, and that, given time, we will destroy not only ourselves but the world.'

  'I am beginning to warm to him,' said the Moidart. 'I often feel the same way myself. So where is the Wyrd now? We could use her help.'

  'She has returned north. She wants no more to do with wars and death. I fear I have disappointed her.'

  'Life is full of disappointment. Can I see the skull?'

  'No, Father. You would seek to make a pact with Cernunnos. It is your nature. Therefore I have hidden it.'

  'In that case, Gaise, you had better find a plan to defeat the enemy.'

  For the next two days there was great activity on the outskirts of Eldacre. Gaise Macon had chosen the battleground, a low line of hills stretching for a half mile east and west of a level area of grassland. Huge stakes were cut, sharpened and driven into the earth on the slopes of the hills to deter cavalry charges. Pits were dug and camouflaged to hide cannon, and weary soldiers with spade and shovel prepared long trenches to conceal musketeers. Workers were also pressganged from the citizenry of Eldacre, though little pressure was needed. Most offered their services willingly.

  Fearful of the coming battle and its outcome, hundreds of families packed their belongings into wagons and set off for the relative peace of the northlands.

  Gaise worked tirelessly, overseeing the construction of fortified defences, and the placement of cannon. While riding along the line he caught sight of Mulgrave, working alongside Kaelin Ring. They and a group of Rigante were filling canvas sacks with earth, tying them and creating a low wall at the centre of the open ground between the hills.

  He saw Mulgrave glance up at him. Then his old friend merely looked away, without acknowledgement. Saddened, Gaise swung his horse and rode carefully up the hill, negotiating the forest of stakes placed there.

  General Beck was standing with the young Bendegit Law. They were estimating cannon range, and directing soldiers in the placement of small white stakes at various places along what would be the enemy's line of advance.

  Gaise dismounted. Twenty cannon were set here, some twelve feet apart. 'When their cannon are drawn up we'll be outranged,' said Beck. These are eight pounders. Maybe two hundred and fifty yards at best. The knights have fifteen pounders. Big bastards. They can pour down shot from almost half a mile. They'll range them on that hill,' he added, pointing to the south.

  'The scouts report they have over a hundred cannon,' said Gaise, 'but I don't know how many of those fifteen pounders they can bring up. I spiked sixteen of them in the west.'

  'Shame you couldn't have captured them, sir,' said Beck.

  'Damn, but I should have thought of that,' said Gaise.

  Beck looked embarrassed. 'Forgive me, sir. I know it was a lightning raid, and you had no opportunity to do more than spike them. I spoke without thinking.'

  'It is all right, Beck,' said Gaise. 'I wish I could have taken them. They were fine pieces, beautifully wrought. But we barely had time to hammer the iron spikes home before the knights counter attacked.' He paused. 'You and your men are going to come under heavy fire,' he said. 'When it begins pull most of your men back from the slopes. When the cannons cease, and the attack starts, re-form.'

  In the afternoon the Moidart paid a visit to the fortifications. Some of the soldiers chee
red as he arrived on a splendid white mare. The Moidart ignored them and spent time talking with Beck.

  Gaise, weary after two days of constant work and planning, rode back to where his own men were camped. Lanfer Gosten took his mount and Gaise made his way to his tent, where he lay down for a few hours' sleep.

  Towards dusk Lanfer woke him, offering him a copper cup of warm tisane. Gaise sipped it gratefully. 'Have the scouts reported?' he asked.

  'Yes, sir. The enemy is on the move. We should sight them tomorrow. Oh, and a group of Rigante captured some soldiers. They are questioning them now.'

  'When they have told what they know see they are put to death,' said Gaise.

  'Yes, sir.'

  Gaise walked from his tent. His eyes felt gritty. There was a stream close by and he wandered to it, crouching down and splashing his face with cold water. Then he called for a mount and rode back to where Ordis Mantilan and his musketeers were camped behind the line of eastern hills. For a while he spoke with Mantilan, discussing the likely attack plans of the enemy. Walking to the top of the fortified rise he stared out to the south. Mantilan joined him.

  'My guess is they'll come at us from two sides,' said Mantilan. 'Going to be hard to hold them for long. I'd be happier with six more cannon, set out on the eastern slopes.'

  'If we had six more you'd be welcome to them,' said Gaise. 'You'll have Bael Jace and his Rigante in reserve. Do not call them in until the situation is desperate.'

  Mantilan chuckled. 'I have to say that Bael Jace makes me uncomfortable,' he said, running his fingers through his curly hair.

  'I always feel he is staring at my head and longing to separate it from my shoulders.'

  'He doesn't like the Varlish,' said Gaise. 'But he'll fight.'

  'Oh, I know that, sir. Those Rigante are a terrifying bunch. If they scare the enemy half as much as they scare me we could actually win.'

  'That's a good thought.' Gaise stared out over the battle site. There were six hundred yards of open ground to the southern hills. He pictured the enemy formations. They would form up on the hills, set up cannon, and begin a barrage. Then the infantry would attack on two fronts. The heavy cavalry would ignore the staked hill fortifications and ride through the centre. Gaise had placed a two-hundred-yard wall of earth bags there, packed to a height of four feet, behind which musketeers would defend the open ground. This area too would be within cannon range.