Prince of Wrath

by Tony Roberts

  Lalaas sighed. War with Venn, Tybar expanding their realm. Kastania was beginning to see the squeeze on either side. He hoped Astiras would keep up his run of victories outside Zofela.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  The line of men standing outside the dismantled walls of Zofela were silent. Above them the flags and pennants of Kastania, Bragal, Zofela and the Koros fluttered in the early autumn breeze. The sky was sullen, brooding, looking down on the men facing one another as if with disapproval.

  The Kastanian army stood a hundred paces from the castle gateway in three groups. At the front stood the infantry, the militia in the centre and the Bragal levies on either flank. The three groups of archers formed the second echelon, with the imperial archers in the centre, the Bakran archers to their left and the assorted Bragalese to their other side. Finally at the rear was Astiras and his bodyguard.

  Three hundred paces distant were the Venn. Their single company of archers stood in front, then came the two of spearmen. At the rear were the cavalry, a mass of armoured equinemen, ready to smash the impudent Kastanians.

  Watching from the walkways and arrow slits in the castle were the people and ruling class of Zofela. Vosgaris and his palace guard stood in groups blocking the gaps in between the piles of stones, but they were pitifully thin and it was no doubt that should the Venn destroy the Army of the East then they would sweep the palace guard aside. Vosgaris had already informed his men to retreat to the castle if the battle went against the emperor; they would fight to the death for the empress and her family.

  Isbel stood silent and nervous before one arrow slit. Argan was staring out of the next one, transfixed. Mr. Sen, Alenna and the administrative corps had the others. Istan was sulking in his room, not wishing to see the ‘stupid’ fight, on the grounds he had been asked whether he wished to or not. He was doubly piqued that nobody had made a fuss this time round and were ignoring him.

  Astiras rode out with Teduskis by his side. He surveyed the Venn army for a moment, then turned to face his polyglot army. “Men of the empire,” he said, “you are here today fighting for your homes, your loved ones. You may be here fighting alongside people who until a short while ago were your enemies.” He saw one or two heads turn to look at the other units. “But now we are all united against a common foe, a foe who despises all of us equally, and is determined to destroy each of our identities and cultures. We Kastanians have already showed you of Bragal and the Bakran Mountains that we do not intend to destroy your identities. We intend building an empire out of all of our respective strengths. Over there stand a people who want to kill us all, and your families and children. Do I not speak the truth? Did not your own people, brave warriors of Bragal, tell you first hand of the burning of the villages? Therefore today I do not need to tell you of fighting for an ideal, or a flag, or an emperor. Today, you know, all of you, Kastanian, Bragalese or Bakranian, that you fight so that your friends, families and descendants should live. Today will be the first battle of many, but this battle is the most important – for today we here, we eight hundred, shall show Venn, Mazag and all the world that to invade our lands is to invite disaster and death upon them!”

  The soldiers raised their weapons and cheered. Astiras then pointed behind the soldiers and all turned to look. There was the overseer of the slaves standing by the gatehouse with a burning brazier. As they looked he dropped a sheaf of parchments and papers into it and the flames rose higher. “See, your records as slaves have been destroyed. You no longer are recorded as having been enslaved by me,” he said to the Bragalese levies.

  The two companies of levies cheered again. Landwaster was living up to his word. Astiras glanced over his left shoulder. “In a few moments you will see another army approaching from that direction. They will be our Mazag allies, and in between us we will crush these fools standing before us. Now stand ready and wait for my command.” He looked at Teduskis. “Let’s go talk to the fools. The longer we wait the better; my message should have reached General Vanist by now and they’ll be on their way.”

  The two slowly walked towards the Venn lines, arrayed at the bottom of the gentle slope that ran from the gatehouse to the edge of the woodland that lay before the base of the rises that marked the edge of the valley. They halted halfway between the two forces and Teduskis raised a white cloth on his lance, signifying a parley.

  Alcazui grunted. He had been waiting for such a move. Such was the norm prior to the shedding of blood. Honour and tradition demanded it. He gestured to his aide-de-camp, a light-eyed muscular lieutenant, picked for his ability to speak Kastanian. The two moved through the lines of spearmen and the archers, and approached the two waiting men. Alcazui, dressed in his chainmail with a red surcoat with the coat of arms of Venn emblazoned across it, noted the heavy armour worn by the two Kastanians. Better than anything he or his cavalry had.

  They halted ten paces away. The equines tossed their heads and snorted. “So,” Astiras said, surprising both with his fluent if rather old-style Talian, “we have come to this. You have made a great error in invading my lands.”

  “You speak Talian well,” Alcazui said.

  “The benefits of a noble education. We study the classic language of our past,” Astiras said, “even if it is no longer spoken in our lands. I ask one last time for you to turn about and return to your lands and bother us no more. We did not ask for this.”

  Alcazui raised one arm in apology. “Alas, I am but a humble servant of my lord the Duke, who has decreed that your lands are his and therefore to be taken accordingly. I cannot go against the word of my liege, as I’m sure you understand.”

  Astiras grunted. “Then you condemn yourself and your outnumbered army to an ignominious defeat. You may be interested to know that even as we speak the Mazag are marching towards us from your left flank. They will be here shortly. If I were you I’d get out of here while you can.”

  Alcazui swung his head in alarm. Nothing stirred to the left – the west. The road was empty. “You jest,” he said, returning his attention to Astiras. “I implore you to surrender, thus avoiding your men a painful experience at the hands of my cavalry. I note you have a larger army but to my experience eye they are untrained levies, and will be food and drink to my equinemen. You send them all to their deaths cheaply. Your walls are dismantled, your defences are gone. What is there to stop my men from sacking the town once you have been swept aside? In the name of Sonos, I beg you to show pity on your peasant army.”

  Astiras chuckled. “Well then, Talian canine, try your best. Use your much vaunted cavalry on my men. They shall be slaughtered to a man. We have nothing more to say.” He wheeled and Teduskis followed. As they walked their steeds back, Astiras nodded to the imperial right. “That’s where they’ll come. It’s the open flank. We’ll shift position to support the Bragalese levies and militia.”

  Teduskis nodded, tossing away the white cloth. “We use the archers now?”

  “Yes, get the battle going. I’m bored with standing around like a virgin outside a brothel.”

  Teduskis laughed. “Very good sire, I’ll give the command.”

  They returned to the rest of the heavy bodyguard and the flags were grasped and raised. The signal to start the battle was given, and the imperial archers, armed with the feared Taboz bow, stepped up to the line of spearmen and raised their bows. The Venn archers, standing in front of their army, suddenly found shafts landing amongst them. Men began screaming and falling.

  “Mother, it’s started!” Argan shouted unnecessarily. “They’re killing the Venn archers!”

  “Hush, Argan,” Isbel said, horror-struck but unable to tear herself away from the sight. She’d never seen warfare before and the sudden brutal death of the enemy was like a splash of freezing cold water to her senses. “I can see it myself.”

  “And there are flags coming from the woodlands!” the prince shouted again excitedly. “It’s Mazag!”

  Astiras was nudged by Teduskis who indicated the appearance
of the Mazag flags on the ridge near the woodlands to the west. Vanist had concealed his men there out of sight of the Venn scouts. Now the battle had begun he was marching his men to aid his allies. He knew his liege would not have looked kindly upon him for starting a war against Venn, but now the Kastanians and Venn were going at one another he felt quite free to intervene.

  Alcazui also saw the flags. “Damn it!” he exclaimed. “We must attack now before they get here! Cavalry! Charge!” he raised his sword and urged the two hundred and forty men to pass through the spearmen. As he did so, he leaned towards his infantry captain. “Swing left and block the Mazag from getting to us.”

  The captain saluted and began to wheel his men round. They were outnumbered but they would do as they were commanded. The Venn archers scattered, disrupted by the shafts falling amongst themselves, and so the Venn cavalry were now presented with a clear run to the Kastanian lines.

  Astiras gripped his reins tightly. “Archers pull back. Infantry, brace for impact!” This would be the moment, the vital part of the battle. If his men could stand up to the killing charge of the Venn cavalry, they had a chance. “Do not flee. Cavalry love fleeing infantry. Your only chance is to stand and fight like men. I will be here with you, now brace!”

  They looked at the mass of charging Venn cavalry, heavy equines with an armoured knight astride them, lances pointing at the terrified infantry, standing in five ranks. The first two ranks knelt, their spear butts in the ground, the points of their weapons thrust forward, hoping to impale the charging beasts on them. It looked like the right and centre of the Kastanian lines were going to be hit.

  “Their infantry aren’t coming,” Teduskis pointed out. “They’re going to face the Mazag!”

  “Then if we see this lot off, we’re laughing,” Astiras said, dragging out his sword. “Captain Sepan! Stand fast!”

  Sepan, standing in between the two companies of Kastanian militia spearmen, raised his fist in acknowledgement. There was no time to talk or look around; the Venn were almost upon them. Soldiers shut their eyes, prayed to their gods and set themselves as best they could as the thundering sound of hundreds of hoofs intensified, along with the snorting of the equines, the clinking of buckles and the roaring of the knights as they bore down on the static lines of the enemy.

  With a gut-wrenching crash, the cavalry hit, smashing aside the front rank and ploughing into the second. Lances snapped and either went flying up into the air or skewered luckless spearmen or levies. Equines went down, screaming in pain. Their riders were spilled to the ground with teeth-jarring force. Men were hurled into their enemies, sending bodies flying backwards, arms and legs flailing. The second line was pressed back into the third, men rolling to their feet as fast as they could. As the Kastanian line recoiled and stretched, the Venn cavalry turned and tore itself free from the stunned infantry.

  Argan stared in wonder at the scene. He was directly behind the Kastanian army and the height of four men above it, and had a spectacular view of the melee. “They’re using cavalry on spears, Mr. Sen!” he exclaimed. “That’s silly!”

  Mr. Sen nodded. “Indeed, young Prince, well noted, but I think the Venn commander has no option; look at how he is being trapped in between two forces. If he does not break our lines, he has lost, so he is desperate.”

  Astiras roared at the top of his voice. The Venn commander was urging his men to withdraw, regroup, and come at them again. The Mazag army was bearing down on the Venn left flank, their spearmen at the front, weapons pointed forward, and the space to manoeuver was getting cramped. “Up, up, all of you!” he shouted to the struggling spearmen. “Those of you wounded to the rear, now! Ranks four and five step forward, and brace!”

  The Bragalese militia archers couldn’t contain themselves and let loose a volley of arrows that showered the reforming cavalry, cutting down half a dozen of them, but Alcazui had got his force turned and they were now lining up for another charge. He pointed to the Kastanian right and the charge began, the clods of earth being thrown up by so many equines.

  Astiras signalled for his Bragal levies on the left to swing in to support the damaged centre, then could do no more than keep his eye on how the battle was going. The second charge did not have the impact of the first, but the knights were now all using their swords, and they struck the Kastanian lines from the middle to the right, knocking into the infantry, trying to cut them up into small pockets so they could be butchered at will. Alcazui and his unit swept through the levies on the right and into the Bragalese militia behind them, hacking and slicing their way forward.

  The Kastanian militia struggled with the other two squadrons of Venn knights who beat at them frantically, knowing they must break through or all would be lost. As the levies on the left moved over, they mobbed the knights on the Venn right and a desperate melee developed. With a height advantage the Venn slashed down and down again, beating at the upraised shields of the desperate men on foot. It was all the imperial soldiers could do to stop being cut to pieces. Men crawled away from the madness, trailing blood and torn flesh, crying out for help. Astiras waved some watching people by the gates to aid them, then noticed that the left hand militia unit was giving too much ground.

  “Teduskis, how goes the Mazag front?”

  “They are closing on the Venn spears, sire.”

  “Very good. To me. We take on their right.” Astiras pointed his sword at the Venn squadron trying to slash its way through the imperial unit just to his left, the archers edging away in fear. “Stand aside!” Astiras commanded, and led his sixty-two men forward at a walk. There would be no charge, for it would kill his own men as well as the enemy. He was not concerned for he and his men were well armoured and were more than a match for the Venn knights.

  “Father’s going to fight!” Argan shrieked, his eyes wider than ever.

  “Hush,” Isbel said, a tremor in her voice. Her knuckles went to her mouth and she bit on them, her heart pounding madly. Her legs shook and it was all she could do to stand there and not collapse in terror. Argan was too fascinated by the spectacle to find time to be frightened. Here was a real battle, with the noises and screams nobody had ever told him about. Some men were lying behind the battle lines, being helped by the townswomen, and more helpers were braving it and coming to their aid.

  Astiras reached over the head of a sweating, staggering spearman who was flinching under the frantic pummelling of a knight, and blocked the next blow. Steering his mount alongside, he slashed at the knight, and cut through his guard, the blade biting through the mail on his arm. The Venn screamed, his voice tinny behind his iron helmet that encased his head, and he wheeled away, his arm almost severed.

  Around Astiras, the battle raged. Teduskis and two other bodyguards stuck to his side, blocking any attack from an enemy cavalryman. Their task was to defend their emperor with their lives; shame would be theirs if he fell and they did not. The infantry formation broke up, men were knocked off their feet by the equines, and they found themselves in a small world of screaming men and equines and the smell of blood, leather and beast.

  Another Venn tried to take on Astiras. The emperor gritted his teeth behind his steel visor. Another fool to kiss death. The emperor’s sword smashed the opponent’s aside and the backswing took the cavalryman under the chin, snapping his head back and ripping through the throat. The man slid off his mount to join the churned up ground, choking on his own blood.

  Alcazui yelled for his men to regroup. They had not broken the Kastanian lines, although he and his squadron had slaughtered many of the Bragalese. There were too many and now his men were being pulled off their mounts and hacked to bits as they lay stunned on the ground. He also needed to see what was happening with the infantry. Two squadrons pulled back, much reduced, but the unit caught by Astiras had been decimated and now the footsoldiers were mobbing the survivors and the beleaguered unit broke, the remnants hacking their way clear and galloping off into the distance, wild-eyed and panic-stricken.


  Alcazui cursed them and wheeled, thankfully clear of the madly screaming infantry of the enemy. They were not men, they were animals! He gauged he had a third of his men left and gathered them into one last effort. He saw that his spearmen were now locked in a struggle with the Mazag who were clearly intent on taking his camp and the wagons and leaving the Kastanians to the cavalry. So be it. This was his last charge – either he would succeed or not.

  Astiras led his bodyguard away from the carnage of the melee and reformed behind his archers. They were not able to loose now in case their missiles looped over the Venn and struck the Mazag. Astiras waved to their officers. “Take care of our wounded! Tend their injuries and take captive any Venn that may still be alive!”

  He swung round. His foot soldiers were trying to reform, reduced in numbers and hampered by the wounded trying to limp, stagger or crawl to safety. “Infantry, advance ten paces,” he ordered. Best to get them away from anyone who may trip them up. The spearmen and levies grimly did as ordered, and formed three lines of men. That was all they could do now.

  Alcazui gritted his teeth. One final charge and the Kastanians would surely shatter. If he could hack the emperor to death their army would dissolve. With a cry of desperation, he led his men on their third attack, the equines tired and blowing.

  “Brace!” Astiras snapped, waving his bodyguard to fan out. This time they would wait and see if the infantry could hold. If not, they would wade in. The charge struck but not with the force it had before. Astiras had to admit the Venn were brave, but foolhardy. They now had little chance of success and they were merely throwing away their lives. The infantry took the charge and were thrust backwards, but held. Spears came in on the sides and more Venn fell than Kastanians. Alcazui realised all was lost and smashed his way clear, decapitating one particularly persistent spearman, and led what was left of his cavalry back towards the melee between his infantry and the Mazag, which was going badly.