Haven atobas-4

by Joel Shepherd

  “Fire!” she yelled.

  Koenyg was becoming alarmed at the lack of opposition in the Dhemerhill Valley when he saw the mass of horses charging from the trees ahead. Immediately captains were yelling, men deploying wide, others shouting to bring the rear ranks forward as fast as possible, all without the king having to utter a word. Koenyg tore clear his sword and steadied his snorting warhorse.

  This time the serrin were coming all at once. He'd expected them to change tactics when their initial ambushes hadn't worked, but he hadn't expected it quite this soon. Forest made a break in the fields ahead on either side of the Dhemerhill River, but only the formation on this side of the river seemed to be under attack. They were racing now, leaping fences and weaving about obstacles, spreading to widen their line.

  “Look to me!” Koenyg yelled, standing in his stirrups and holding his sword aloft. “Look to me, charge on my signal!”

  He wanted to hit them head-on, so they had no time to fire. If he charged too soon, they might halt, gaining them an extra shot or more. If he charged too late, they'd get their extra shot anyway. The first serrin were approaching another fenceline, and he half expected them to stop short, but they leaped over without slowing, readying arrows on their bowstrings even now. Such horsemanship could only be admired.

  “Now!” cried the king, and kicked his heels. The Lenay formation sprang forward, thousands strong, with a roar like an avalanche. The serrin fired, and halted, and for a moment the air was filled with zipping arrows. Men and horses fell left and right, and Koenyg covered with his shield, confident enough that at this range he might lose his horse, but nothing more. But his horse remained unscathed, and ahead the serrin were turning and running.

  A poor predicament for him, given how the serrin loved to cut down those who chased by shooting behind them, but in the confusion of the turn, these serrin had misjudged their approach and turned too late. Koenyg's heart pounded with excitement as he saw how fast he and his men were closing. The horses of Northern Lenayin were swift, and the serrin struggled to get back up to speed after turning around. Koenyg urged his horse faster, grinning as he selected a target, unarmoured as all serrin were unarmoured, and too busy trying to gather speed to turn and fire his bow….

  And suddenly the serrin were evading, gaps appearing in their formation as new horsemen came rushing through, a second rank of men in gleaming armour, and these men were not stopping. Steel cavalry, with lances lowered.

  They hit with fatal power, bodies flying, lances snapping, and horses careening, and suddenly Koenyg's world was filled with racing enemies. He deflected a lance with his shield, yanked the reins to dodge another, then manoeuvred to slash at a third. He wheeled about to pursue the last of them, but now the serrin were firing into the backs of those exposed Lenays. Men were hit through the back as they turned, falling with screams and thuds as powerful arrows punched holes through armour. He needed his enemies around him and fast, for cover.

  He tore back in amongst the Steel, lances dropped and now swinging with swords. He crashed in on one unawares, reeling him in the saddle with a blow. And then it was chaos, crashing swords and yells and jostling, shrieking horses. He hit another Rhodaani hard, took repeated blows to his own shield, then had a kill robbed from him by a Banneryd warrior he did not recognise. The Steel men fought with skill and bravery, yet there were little tricks of horsemanship in such close quarters that Lenays seemed to know that these men did not.

  Koenyg gave one man a jostle at just the right moment, upsetting his balance right before a swing, then thumped him with his shield. The man grabbed for his reins to rebalance, and Koenyg killed him with a downswing before he could recover. He manoeuvred in tight space toward a new target, but that man died before he could reach him, the Ranash warrior responsible joining his king's side to hunt for more.

  All about the pattern seemed the same: Steel fighting with skill enough to best most cavalry forces, but not those of Northern Lenayin. Soon the survivors were breaking to run, pursued everywhere by howling Lenay warriors, eager for more blood. Only now as they chased, serrin arrows cut them down, or pierced horses through their necks, as talmaad took advantage of the confusion to dart in at truly affronting range, and shoot Lenay men and horses from close enough to throw a boot.

  Koenyg yelled at his men to leave the Steel and get the serrin-one dead talmaad was surely worth three Steel-and his men complied. Serrin evaded with breathtaking cheek, yet some were not fast enough and were cut flying from the saddle. Others abandoned bows for swords, and slashed at Lenays in passing, yet had little luck getting past the Lenay shields.

  Koenyg chased several, had a partner struck point-blank by an arrow to the face, then two serrin he chased were cut off and killed by intercepting Hadryn men. The remaining serrin fled, and Koenyg urged his horse to join the chase, yet it did not respond. In fact, his horse was slowing, and seemed unsteady. Koenyg pulled the stallion to a halt, sensing something wrong, and no sooner had the horse come to a stop than it collapsed.

  Koenyg jumped off before the rolling animal could trap his leg and strode about until he saw the expected-an arrow, protruding from the horse's throat.

  “Damn,” he muttered. “I liked that one.” He pulled his blade and ended the horse's struggles, then waited for one of his comrades to find a replacement from amongst the hundreds of milling, riderless horses. The animal they did find was a dun-coloured mare-Koenyg preferred stallions but the animal looked like quality, so he mounted and surveyed the battle.

  Serrin were now running, scattering wide across the valley. Lenays were reluctantly not pursuing; those who forgot that most basic serrin tactic soon died for it, or their horses did.

  “We may have taken as many as a quarter of the Steel,” said a Hadryn lord. “A good fight, our losses are light.”

  “The Steel cavalry will think twice before charging us again,” Koenyg agreed. “But I wanted more talmaad dead-we took only a handful, while they took quite a few of us.”

  “It was only the sacrifice of the Steel cavalry that presented the demons with such easy targets,” another lord protested. “A few more engagements like that and the Steel cavalry shall be no more. Without them the demons' archery shall be less effective.”

  Koenyg frowned. “That wasn't their whole force-they're holding a lot back. I want to lure them out. We stand aside for now, let the Kazeri have some fun.”

  The lords looked shocked. “Stand aside for barbarian Kazeri? And cede the honour to them?”

  “We wear the serrin down,” Koenyg explained. “We keep them harried, we water our horses, we take some food, while allowing the serrin and Steel cavalry none of these things. Then after the Kazeri are half-dead, as I expect they soon will be, we resume the lead once more.”

  The lords did not like it, but knew better than to argue. “What of the prisoners?” another asked.

  “Keep them,” said Koenyg. “These defences are clever; no doubt there is more cleverness to come, considering who commands them. I would know more, if they will tell us.”

  “Oh, they'll tell us,” said another lord, grimly.

  “A good horse,” Koenyg complimented the man who had found his new mount. “Whose was she?”

  “Lord Talryd's,” came the reply. “He was killed.”

  “Commendable,” said Koenyg, with a fisted salute to his chest. The others echoed it. “Most commendable.”

  The Regent's opening attack had failed. The first soldiers had retreated down the slope to seek cover and await a proper massing of their forces, leaving scores of bodies on the grass and rocks. Sasha rode along the first line of deployed Ilduuri archers, and listened to the yells of massing soldiery halfway down the slope below.

  “They're mustering archers!” one Ilduuri sergeant called up to her as she rode past.

  “They'll be firing uphill!” Sasha yelled so most could hear her. “You'll be firing downhill! They'll have to get so close to hurt you, you could spit on them!”


  Men laughed. It was not humour, but confidence and spirit. Her Ilduuris looked confident, archers now wielding shorter Ilduuri bows, and some with huge serrin ones they'd traded for. Ilduuris typically fought light, but here some had figured a larger bow would be worth the trade in weight and awkwardness.

  Further ahead, away from the valley mouth, a steep shoulder of hillside was being massed with soldiers. Had they not artillery primed on that site, it would have been alarming. An artillery captain followed her, with a trumpeter to his side, awaiting her order. Andreyis and Yasmyn followed after-she'd already sent Daish racing back to Kessligh to tell him what unfolded. Now she summoned Andreyis to her side.

  “Andrey, go to Damon. Tell him that Balthaar is spread thin all along the river. Their artillery is not here yet. Our one chance to do him massive damage here is for the Army of Lenayin to charge, and split him in half. Tell him that I can see all the Regent's ranks from up here, and I think the Army of Lenayin can actually reach the river, and divide a force ten times their size. Tell him to go immediately, before they acquire more depth. I do not expect we shall have any spare artillery to help him, but if we do, we shall. Got that?”

  “I've got it.”

  Sasha was almost surprised at his calm confidence. But truly, it was more pleasure than surprise. And pride as well. “We can do this, Andrey. The Army of Lenayin can do it, tell him that.”

  “I'll believe it if you say so,” he replied. “Prince Damon will too.” He turned and urged his horse to a gallop, back through waiting ranks of Ilduuri, fast along the ridgeline.

  Sasha considered the hillside once more. The ground in the middle was rocky and steep, with little chance of advance there. The attacking forces were mustered primarily to the far left, where a broad shoulder of tree-covered land made a natural path across the face of the slope, and here directly above Hama town, where a riding trail climbed a manageable ascent. If she lost either side, she would rather it be the left, as the trail back along the ridgeline behind, overlooking the Dhemerhill Valley, came directly above the town, and could be cut off. But better if she lost neither.

  Then, with a crescendo of yells, they were coming again. Thousands of men erupted from cover and scrambled uphill.

  “Second rank!” Sasha yelled, and a new line of Ilduuri archers rushed forward to join the first rank already in position. The first rank kneeled, and moved a little down the slope so that the second could stand above them, and aim down. Suddenly the men below were faced with twice as many archers as they'd thought there were. “Artillery, all fire!”

  The artillery captain sounded a rapid tune on his trumpet. A moment later, the air was filled with whistling ballista fire. Heavy bolts arced high into the air, then fell at a steeper angle-ballistas were firing crosswise over the slope, to accommodate that sudden drop in trajectory that would otherwise make targeting the far side of a blind slope impossible. Given that all of the artillery was behind them, upon the ridge overlooking the Dhemerhill Valley, it meant that here upon the right flank, there could be no close support from artillery fire without the risk of dropping some short on friendly heads.

  “Fire!” yelled the archery captain, and now the air filled with arrows. Men coming up the slope tried to hide behind shields that were quickly feathered, but others fell in tens and dozens, the lighter armour that had made them suitable for climbing having little chance against the downward velocity of Ilduuri arrows, and less still against serrin bows.

  Men with bigger shields formed protective clusters and kept coming, some bravely holding place despite arrows through exposed legs. Other men formed up behind those, and climbed higher behind that line of protection. Upon the left flank, Sasha could see huge numbers advancing well, thrusting up toward the Ilduuri line. Only now, the real artillery arrived.

  Burning hellfire hit squarely in the midst of those advancing on the left, and Sasha shielded her eyes against the horror. When the glare faded, hundreds of men were burning and shrieking, entire sections of hill ablaze, whole trees flaming like torches. A great many attackers were too close to the Ildu-uris to be safely targeted, but they were now alone, as those advancing behind abruptly died, and those behind them recoiled in horror.

  Ilduuri archers on the left flank fell back, and the first wave of attackers crested the hill with a mixture of triumph and sheer relief to be clear of the hellfire…and ran headlong into the line of Ilduuri Steel infantry that they had not yet seen in their advance up the hill. Ilduuri fell upon them in a wall, and in a short flurry of blows with sword and shield, the first attacking wave were falling back down the hillside, leaving many dead on the ground behind.

  Another wave of hellfire landed, this time further down the slope, turning more men and trees to flame. Before Sasha's own position, here on the right flank above Hama, there was no hellfire, as there was no suitable flat ground over to the left upon which catapults could rest.

  The catapults could shoot further, however, and now did, dropping hellfire onto Hama down below, and beyond it. A house exploded in flame, then a field to the left of the town. Then the central square took a hit, and columns of men still advancing through it, or sheltering behind its walls from ballista fire, took to running. It was sad to destroy a pretty town the Ilduuris would much rather have saved. But there would be far sadder things to see before this fight was done.

  With bigger shields to the fore, and no hellfire to decimate them, enough attackers coming up the slope were surviving to press home the advance. Arrows began soaring up from below as archers finally got close enough to put fire onto Ilduuri positions.

  “Archers back!” Sasha yelled. “Shield line, front rank, forward!”

  She wheeled her horse through a gap as they came past her, and the archers faded back from the edge. With a roar, hundreds of attackers began cresting the ridge, followed by thousands more, across a stretch of hillside several hundred paces wide. As on the left, they came headlong onto Ilduuri shields and swords, and so the new form of dying began.

  “She wants us to charge?” Damon stared at the messenger-Andreyis, he recalled the young man's name, Sasha's friend from Baerlyn.

  “They are spread across the valley mouth but thin,” Andreyis repeated urgently. “The river is at their backs, and their artillery is not yet present.”

  “It is perfect,” Markan agreed. His cheek bore a nasty cut where Sasha's stanch had sliced him, but the swelling was now gone sufficiently that he could wear a helm. “They do not expect it, and their position is weak. The Synnich-ahn's judgement is sound.”

  It was too predictable coming from Markan, and Damon did not trust it. From this far up the valley, the Army of Lenayin could barely see the valley mouth or the forces that gathered there, but they could hear them. It was the sound that an awful lot of soldiers made when they moved and shouted orders all at once. A distant roar, like a singular mass. Attacking one hundred thousand men with fourteen thousand was crazy.

  And yet, as a tactic, Damon could not fault it. Dangerous tactics were only wrong when there were better options available. Sitting back and waiting for the Regent to get organised was far worse, particularly if his artillery made the journey up the valley with him. The Steel was an army built for defence, but the Army of Lenayin was not. It was best on the move, and preferably on the attack, where momentum could shatter an opponent's formation and create the fighting space within which individual Lenay warriors excelled. Attacking was desperate, but then, the situation was desperate.

  “We go,” said Damon. He turned to the serrin woman who commanded the talmaad forces at this end of the valley. “We will need the talmaad to break up their cavalry as we go in.”

  The woman nodded. Rhillian was her name, another of Sasha's friends, though Damon only knew her a little. Other serrin regarded her with a mixture of anger and fear that he had never seen serrin direct upon one of their own, but left little doubt as to her authority. It was awe, he supposed. Her face, above her light mail and leathers, was strikingly beau
tiful.

  “As we have practised,” Rhillian agreed. “We will go first, your cavalry behind.”

  “Just keep their cavalry off our formation, that's all I ask.”

  Rhillian nodded, turned her horse, and galloped away.

  “Damn,” said a lord from Tyree. “Best-looking woman I ever saw in my life.”

  Another laughed. “If she lives, I'll marry her.”

  “Do serrin women marry?” asked another.

  “Aye, sometimes. Handsome men.”

  “That rules you out.”

  “We go now.” Damon cut off their cheerful debate. “No waiting. My sister says we can reach the river. If we do, we may win this war early.”

  They departed with a rousing yell. As the provincial lords, real and de facto, galloped away to their formations, Damon considered his position. Behind, looming wide across the valley, stood the Dhemerhill Valley's western wall, still not as high as he'd have liked, yet serviceable. Before it, ranked in gleaming thousands, stood the Rhodaani Steel. Behind the wall, out of sight, was their surviving artillery.

  The wall had no doors or gates, yet armies before it could retreat behind by ascending the flanking hills and going around. Obviously an attacking army could do the same, but would funnel itself into two narrow approaches on climbing ground that could be targeted by artillery, archers, and ground defences alike. If the Regent's army came around the wall that way, they'd be annihilated by hellfire one rank at a time. But that did not mean any retreat by the defenders to move behind the wall would be a simple matter either.

  Ahead, the valley was wide, at least a thousand paces, turning gradually to the right as it approached the mouth and the Ipshaal River. High to the left, on the bluff overlooking the valley mouth and river, Damon could see a gleaming silver rank of warriors-the Ilduuri Steel. There seemed to be fighting, but the distance made it hard to tell. Beyond the ridge black smoke rose, and burning artillery made arcs across the sky. Damon hoped Sasha's artillerymen had practised all their angles well in advance, and were not dropping rounds short as those confounded catapults were liable to do. He still did not trust those things, and less so since he'd seen a catapult crew die two days earlier when a round erupted prematurely. Though he also hoped that the Regent's crews were struggling to master what would be for them foreign and unfamiliar contraptions.