by RW Krpoun
Thus the Captain knew of the events in Oramere, and Axel was kept abreast of the events on the Bloody Road, which wasn’t much. The Badgers were distinguishing themselves, of course, but there weren’t too many opportunities for real fighting. Rumors of another great invasion of the Border Realms by the Hand of Chaos abounded, based on the quietness of both the raiders off the Blasted Plains and the inactivity of the Hand’s Goblin allies in the mountains. Every quiet year spawned these rumors, but in the sixteen decades since the Ostwind War’s end, nothing had ever come of them, as the Hand was bordered by the Direthrell nation of Arbmante, whose undying enmity kept the Hand’s ambitions in check. Sending enough troops west across the Blasted Plains to invade the Border Realms would weaken the Hand to the point where the Dark Threll would likely find it opportune to escalate the simmering cold war between the two Void-worshipping powers into a hot, open conflict.
Axel was beginning to wonder, however: it had been quiet last year too, as if the Hand was conserving its forces, building up supply points, and preparing for a full-scale invasion. Of course, there could be troubles between the Hand and Arbmante that the western folk knew nothing of, or even other reasons, but the soldier in Axel doubted it. The Ostwind had been a near-run thing; only careless over-ambition on the part of the Hand generals had kept the Void forces from capturing Sagenhoft and realizing their centuries-old ambition of cutting the Realms in half. In Axel’s opinion, plans that end in defeats that were nearly victories tended to be reviewed, improved, and used again.
Running feet on the stairs jerked his attention to the present; the preparatory word of a deadly spell crossed his lips as the door to his office opened, the completion of the spell only a half-heartbeat away. That completion never came as he recognized the intruder as a dirty, battered Eclipse.
The girl, whose features were deeply stamped with fatigue, stumbled to a stop in front of his desk; behind her, Axel saw a grim-faced Rolf. “Lieutenant, we’ve found the Purple Spider,” the girl gasped, badly out of breath.
The Wizard motioned for the girl to wait and poured her a glass of white wine. “Here, catch your breath and drink this. Good, now, how far south of the Southline creek did you last see them?”
“Fifty miles; Starr’s pacing them, and we didn’t snipe so’s they wouldn’t know we were there. We watched them for half a day to get a count and marching pace, they’re moving at about twenty miles a day. I left Starr yesterday noon and moved all night.”
“So we have a day and a half, roughly,” Axel nodded. “Perhaps closer to two. How many are there?”
Eclipse was crying, the Badger officer suddenly realized; it had been hard to see before because she had been sweating so heavily. The reminder of her age flashed across the Lieutenant’s mind, and he shifted uneasily. “There’s over two hundred, Lieutenant: they’re coming with an army to invade.”
The Lieutenant looked over the gathering in the dining hall. The Grand Hall would have been more dramatic, but he didn’t feel comfortable with using it; that was for Durek and Badger business, while this was a combined operation. Present in the room, which was serving quite well for the purpose, were Rolf, Kroh, Hanns, Rudolf, Helmuth Ostermann, Gottri Gravel-Breaker, and Kurt Bandle.
Helmuth, the Mayor of Badgerhof and Lieutenant of the Ravenmist, was a fit, tanned man of surprisingly gentle disposition and appearance. He had spent four years as an active member of the Badgers (earning an Emerald Claw and three Honor Roll entries along the way) before an infection from an arrow wound sustained while campaigning north of the Ward three years ago had reached his right lung, rendering him unable to take living under field conditions. Before joining the Badgers Helmuth had served in the Imperial Legions, and was well thought of by his former comrades.
Gottri, a Dwarf from the Thunderpeaks, was an early recruit, having enlisted only weeks after the Badgers were formed, and had served without distinction until the founding of Badgerhof required trusted personnel to act as the town Watch and as cadre for the Militia. Gottri, who was a good Dwarf with a hammer but thick-witted to a fault, was eased out of the Company and into the Watch, serving also as a Serjeant in the Ravenmist.
Kurt Bandle was a lanky red-haired man just turned thirty who had had enough of a mercenary’s life after two campaigns with the Badgers; he had been poised to resign when the openings for the Watch had been announced, an opportunity he leapt upon. Axel had had some misgivings about keeping Kurt around, but no other Badger was interested in the position, so Kurt became the other half of the Badgerhof City Watch, and a Serjeant in the Militia, an office he shared with Kurt, Hanns, and Rudolf.
The Wizard took a sip of wine and cleared his throat; for the last three years he had been confined to administrative tasks and problems of supply, and except for the conflict with the trappers this spring he had not seen action in far too long. He was keenly aware of how rusty he had grown in the arts of command.
“Tell us what we need to do, Lieutenant,” Helmuth smiled easily. “This suspense is killing me.”
“If you’re lucky, that’s all that will be killing you,” Axel grinned back, grateful to his old comrade for breaking the ice. “We’ve got a battle in front of us: the Purple Spider are on the march.” He leaned forward and laid a silver shilling on the map spread across the table, its corners held down by the bowls of cookies, smoked herring, dried apple slices, and raisins Rosemary had laid out when she had heard that a meeting had been called, along with cider, wine, and ale. “This is where they’ll camp tonight, in all likelihood. Starr is following them; I’ve already sent Halabarian out to relieve her. Eclipse, who brought the word two hours ago, is getting some sleep; at dawn she’ll be heading out to check with Halabarian and relay an updated report.”
Rudolf measured on the map with his ruined hand, then peered at the key. “Evening of the day after tomorrow, or the morning of the next day, they’ll cross the Southline.”
“Exactly. And when they do, we’ll be there to meet them.” Axel let this sink in.
“Open battle?” Kurt asked, pale faced. “Isn’t that a long risk with green troops, no, farmers.”
“If we wait until they hit Badgerhof or here every farm will be burned and looted,” Rolf pointed out, digging another handful of cookies from the bowl.
“And the entire Outer Guard will likely have died piecemeal defending their homes,” Helmuth nodded. “Not to mention that even if we won, half our settlers would leave, and the Spider will be back again, maybe before first snow.”
“Exactly,” Axel cut Kurt off. “We meet them in open battle because that’s the only way we can beat them. Hole up and they’ll just burn and loot. We’re property owners now, not just mercenaries. We’re our own paymasters.”
“Working for yourself means the worst possible master.” Hanns shook his head.
“Truth indeed,” Axel grinned. “The Ravenmist is receiving the call to arms; by morning they’ll start arriving here. Tonight we come up with a plan, tomorrow we train for it, and the day after we move into position.”
“And come up with a new plan, because everything turns to garbage after first contact with the foe,” Helmuth sighed. “Kurt’s right on one count: the Ravenmist is shaky. We won’t be able to try anything fancy, just take up a blocking position and hope they can go toe-to-toe with Goblins.”
“Goblins,” Kroh sneered. “I hates Goblins, killed dozens, I have. We’ll chew ‘em up and spit ‘em back out.”
“That’s the spirit, Kroh,” Hanns nodded. “Put that into our troopers, and it’ll happen.”
“And we’re not restricted to ‘nothing fancy’, either,” Axel rapped his wine glass on the table for attention. “We’ve a detachment of active Phantom Badgers, and a number of semi-active Badgers as well. Our options are only as limited as our imaginations and our time.”
“Point taken,” Helmuth saluted cheerfully. “As we said in the Legions, if we aren’t dead we’re winning. Tell us what we face and how we’re going to kill th
em.”
“Two hundred-odd Goblins, give or take fifty,” the Wizard consulted his notes. “Of course, we’ll have a more accurate count once Starr reports. Eighteen Titan spiders, three for riding, the rest for fighting. Two or three Trolls, a half-dozen trained bears used as riding beasts, a pack of war dogs, exact number unknown, and a dozen carts pulled by mules. Thirty to fifty support personnel, about half being slaves. You can rest assured that there’s a shaman and retinue in there as well, although they hadn’t spotted one when Eclipse headed back.”
“Any chance of war engines in the carts?” Rolf asked.
“Possible, but Eclipse said they seemed too lightly loaded. Starr sent word she would check them at the first opportunity, but the dogs will complicate infiltration of the night camps; personally I would doubt they’ll have any along, if indeed the keiba boasts any: they’ll be looking for a test of our mettle, not a siege. Now, the Goblins are showing signs of wear: Eclipse reported a large percentage of young warriors, a low level of armor, and even flint weapons. We won’t be the only side with green troops.”
“Archers?” Helmuth asked.
“A few short bows, and a number of slingers, but not as many as there could be, at least from the first survey. I think we can assume that due to continuous battle losses, the Spider can’t afford the long training times involved in weapons like slings and bows. This means a straight up, heads-on conflict. Since we know where they are, and which way they’re heading, we can be in a blocking position and waiting for them, leaving the Goblins with two choices: fight on ground of our choosing, or turn around and go home.”
Axel let that sink in. “Now, we have eighty-nine members of the Ravenmist not counting serjeants and above, plus seven Phantom Badgers in various states of capability, and whatever else we can dredge up in the next day or so. Helmuth, what are the chances of getting lumberjacks or other outsiders to join up?”
The Mayor shrugged. “Probably ten or so tree-cutters if we pay good enough; there’s no boats in dock right now, although we’ve a few travelers of various sorts in town, might get one or two.”
“We’ll pay triple the going mercenary rate, one month’s wages guaranteed if battle is joined, we’ll need every body we can muster. We will meet the Spider here,” he placed a gold Mark on the map. “In a potato field, of all places. It’s basically flat, rising on a gentle slope to the north, with waist-high piled stone fences on the east and west, thick uncleared brush on the other sides of the fences, and enough room for what we need.”
“That’s Ackermann’s field,” Helmuth commented. “ ‘The Battle of Ackermann’s Field’, or ‘Death amongst the Spuds’; it has got a ring to it.”
“As it should,” the Lieutenant grinned. “Now, Kurt will have one Corporal and four militia in Badgerhof; Hanns will have the same in Oramere against any unpleasant surprises. Naturally, we are (hopefully) going to have all the noncombatants in Badgerhof before the Goblins cross the Southline. Everyone else will be fighting potato to potato.”
“No sprout surrendered without a fight,” Helmuth slapped the table. “Defending row-to-row.”
“The main body will be six sections, each with a Corporal and ten, give them good names like Lion, Leopard, Eagle, and so on; spider, bear, and war dog won’t be used, obviously. Helmuth will lead Silver troop; Rudolf will lead Blue troop, and Gottri will lead Gray troop; each troop will have two sections. One Corporal and the eight militiamen who can use bows will be under my direct command as Hawk section, along with Eclipse, who can use a bow fairly well and can act as a runner; Corporal Nowotney will be in command of an onager and three militiamen, call this Lighting section. If we can come up with any extra bodies we’ll take both engines. Doctor Josten and his assistant will be responsible for treating the wounded. Kroh, Rolf, Starr, and Halabarian are going to make up our reserve, small in numbers but heavy in hitting power.”
Helmuth snorted. “Josten’s assistant’s primary qualifications are her bust size and the way you can look into her eyes and see the back of her head.”
“Then recommend someone else to help him. One problems is stretcher-bearers: virtually every able-bodied and trustworthy male is in the ranks of the Ravenmist, along with the most adventuresome females; who is going to carry the wounded back to the Healer?”
“Besides hiring warriors, why not hire stretcher-bearers? Some of the wood cutters might be willing to do that, rather than fight.” Hanns offered. “And while we’re on the subject...”
“Don’t even start,” Axel cut him off. “You stay in Oramere. I’m not winning a battle only to find out we lost the fortress to a scout group; somebody’s got to be in command here who can think. Besides, only one cripple per battle, and that’s going to be me. Hiring stretcher-bears is a good idea; more will be willing to tote and lift than will want to fight.”
“Pay them per body moved,” Kroh growled. “That’ll motivate the gutless bastards.”
“Good idea,” the Wizard nodded. “Who do we put in charge of this bunch, assuming we get them? We’re stretched damned thin, and the Doctor will be too busy to supervise them.”
“How about that new priestess, what’s-her-name, in charge of the chapel?” Kurt offered. “She can’t Heal, no spellcaster at all, but she looks to be a rough old cob for a cleric of the goddess of healing and motherhood.”
“Good idea; Helmuth, take care of it.” Axel checked his notes. “That’s all I have at this point. Any questions, comments, observations? No? We’ve got four hours of sunlight left; copy down the names of those in your unit, and then get about your business. Helmuth, you contact the lumber camps and the priestess; Kurt, you warn the Doctor, and see about recruiting any outsiders who are in town; the responsibility to organizing the noncombatants coming into Badgerhof will be on you, as well. Hanns, I want you to arrange for transport of the artillery and any other stores we might need from here and Badgerhof to the field; Rolf, you’ll be his assistant. Kroh, I want you to go to the field and make a detailed sketch of the place, measure off the distances, everything; take one of the orphans with you to help. Gottri, I want you to go over every inch of the onagers, make sure they’re in tip-top shape. Check the rocks, too; make sure each one is as round as we can make it. Rudolf, take the rest of the orphans and anyone else who’s not busy and set up tarps and straw for bedding down the Militia tomorrow night. I’ll warn Rosemary about the extra mouths. Any questions? Then get about your tasks, gentlemen. We’ve a week’s worth of work to do and just hours to do it in.”
The next thirty-six hours were an endurance test for Axel, a time of half-hour naps and endless variations on simple problems. The inflexible law of nature that anything that can go wrong, will, was solidly in effect, and the perversity of Human nature that always seems magnified when dealing with people in groups conspired to provide the maximum confusion.
The Ravenmist trickled into Oramere and Badgerhof beginning at dawn the day following the war council and continued at a maddeningly slow pace; it was not until nearly sundown that the last militiaman reported for duty, and nearly midnight before the last group reached Oramere. Only half of the farm families had withdrawn into Badgerhof by that time, but Axel refused to worry about this; the evacuation of noncombatants into the (lightly) fortified town was nothing more than an exercise in moral support. Should the Ravenmist lose the battle it was doubtful that there would be enough militia survivors to defend the town, anyway.
Oramere was prepared for the influx of troops in terms of supplies, but it still required a massive effort to get the militiamen sorted into their sections, their sections assigned to troops, and the whole housed and fed. Weapons and equipment had to be checked, and equipment issued to those who had managed to lose, forget, or damage essential items.
The field chosen for the blocking position was only an hour’s march from Oramere, two at the most, so the force’s supply train was minimal in military terms, but that translated into a sizeable undertaking for the staff and leaders involv
ed. Each man had to be issued a day’s rations and checked to ensure that he had some sort of water container filled with water. Another day’s rations (five hundred pounds worth of food), tools, water barrels, tarps and poles for the Healer’s treatment area, fodder for horses, bundles of two-foot-long stakes sharpened at both ends, arrows, crossbow quarrels, sling bullets, spare shields, spare spears, lanterns, oil for the lanterns, bundles of torches in case of a night action, and a dozen other items all required transport to the battle area. In all, four large wagons were required to haul all of this material, with a fifth to haul the rocks for the onagers, and two teams to draw the carts that carried the weapons themselves, making a total of fourteen draft horses to the procession.
With better troops, most of the equipment would have been distributed amongst the infantry and all but one of the wagons left behind, but given the Ravenmist’s low level of unit training and experience Axel had decided to accept the annoyance of an absurdly large wagon train rather than have essential items lost or abandoned along the way.
Eclipse left at dawn to meet with Halabarian and obtain a fresh report; about noon a weary Starr staggered in, made her report, and headed for bed. The Goblins were advancing at the expected pace and their numbers had been refined, but nothing radically new had been discovered. Axel noted the changes to his estimates and continued to deal with the avalanche of problems that descended upon him hourly.
One Corporal was reduced to the ranks and replaced by an acting Corporal, Kroh publicly dealt with two cases of insubordination by beating both subjects senseless without inflicting incapacitating injury, and some unit training was performed. Enough lumberjacks were recruited to make up for the militiamen who were too ill to serve, and to allow Lightning section to take both onagers. Nine wood cutters, a tinker, a trapper, and a peddler hired on to carry wounded, and the grim-faced priestess of Terana agreed to take command of those responsible for evacuating the wounded from the field of battle.