Rise of the Darekian's, The

by Wood, Andrew

  Chapter 9.

  Caldar stood nervously as the bells still rang out their warnings. Climbing the nearest tower, he himself could see the large number of enemy amassing barely a mile or so away from his elevated position. The early morning sun and the clear blue skies made it visibly plain he was in trouble, and he knew even a rough estimation of the quantity of soldiers coming into view, told him he was vastly outnumbered. Beneath his tower, he could hear his officers readying his own men, though he doubted they would be moving with any enthusiasm if they could see what he could. He decided enough was enough and retreated down to ground level, to be greeted by two of his senior officers, "your highness we have our men readying the defences and I have ordered the town gates sealed. We can hold off anything those Besemians can throw at us."

  Caldar turned, "General, do not be so over confident, I think we have major problems. I have just seen by how many they outnumber us. Please walk with me "he ordered, and the two men duly obliged."We will hold our positions for now, but I want us ready to retreat into the towns if we need to, we can stage a more disciplined defence with some protection from the walls." "But your highness, we have no need..." one spoke before Caldar interrupted him, "those are my orders, now do not argue. We see what they throw at us, if they do as I suspect they will move the bulk to our centre, as well as split two further elements to try to separate us from the town; well at least that is what I would be doing if I were leading their attack. Now listen, it will be necessary for our army to be split if we have to consolidate in the towns, make sure you two head north I will head south."

  The officer nodded in acceptance before asking, "Highness if we retreat to the towns our cavalry are of no use." Caldar continued walking, the two officers almost struggling to keep pace with the younger man. "Listen, we have approximately one hundred riders, I for one do not see them making much of a dent in an army of several thousand, do you?" he stopped and turned to the two men trailing him. Both stopped abruptly, "maybe your highness has a point," one said conceding the matter of fact.

  Caldar had arranged his defences as best he knew how, not to proud to listen to advice when it was offered to him. As well as fortifying the two towns, a long ditch with sharpened stakes had been set across his defensive line. This originally had been done across the front, until someone had pointed out a few days ago, what was to stop the enemy just going around him and attacking from their rear. Hastily he had set to work, digging and setting in more stakes to the back of his line, this had to run the full mile or so from town to town.

  His cohort consisted of a little over five hundred full time soldiers; these were skilled in their respective field, whether that was infantry, archer or cavalry. In addition to these, the local nobility had called to arms their retinue, adding over one hundred or more men, of reasonable fighting ability. The final factor in his numbers came from the citizens of Berston and Casham, the two towns he was defending, as well as a number of local farmers and their immediate communities. These were not particularly skilled in combat but Caldar knew these could and would have to be counted on, though in their favour these were people defending their homes. He knew all too well a man defending his family and property, had a reason to stand and fight, whereas the men attacking him were not only being coerced, but did not have the same inspiration to drive them on, or at least he hoped not.

  Having long given the order to silence the warning bells, it was after all quite clear there was a large enemy force amassing a short distance away. Caldar had also flatly refused the idea, that as crown prince he should not be anywhere in the vicinity. When and if any fighting started, he had also made it clear to all his officers, that under no circumstances would he retreat himself away from danger while others remain to fight. Deciding it easier for now at least to be mounted on his horse, giving him the speed he would need to move from one end of his lines to the other. He turned abruptly as he heard the drums for the first time.

  Thumping, in time with a walking step they continued, the beat getting gradually louder, as the first of the enemy stomped their way forward closing the gap between the two opposing armies. Caldar sat atop his horse trying to anticipate where and by how many his lines were going to be hit. With the thump, thump of the drums and the stomping of thousands of feet in time with the beat, the defenders remained waiting patiently and more than likely, nervously in their positions. The drums and stamping came to a sudden halt in a great crescendo of noise, and for a few seconds the field fell silent. With the distance narrowed to barely five hundred paces, Caldar could hear for himself the shouting of orders, not from his officers but from those opposing him, not being able to make out what order was actually being relayed, he decided to make his own.

  Giving the shout down the line for archers to ready, he watched as his thinly spread defensive ranks lifted their bows and readied arrows. A loud roar, a choir of a thousand or more voices and the enemy surged forward. The order was given, and a rain of arrows fired upwards and then dropped down on the advancing horde, felling those unfortunate enough to be in the wrong place. A second and third wave of arrows flew airborne bringing down more of the still advancing enemy. Crashing like a wave on rocks, the first attackers stalled as they approached the defensive ditches and stakes, some being forced onto the lethal spikes by the weight of numbers pushing behind them.

  Caldar gave the order, and his front line closed ranks, and shield after shield locked together into smaller tight armoured units. Clambering up from the ditch, the first few to get close enough were slain by the stabbing of short spears being thrust out from behind the shield wall. The problem Caldar had was lack of numbers, once locked into their respective shielded groups, men tightly grouped together, was it left huge great gaps across his line. The sound of several horns blew and he watched as another two groups of enemy started running, one to his left and one to his right, and he knew what must now be done.

  He quickly gave the signal and several horns blew to signal the preordained retreat. He himself set his horse to a quick canter shouting to his men at the front to wheel their way in their protective units, and make for the two towns. As the left and right flank of his units were threatened archers from vantage points within the towns picked out targets that threatened to clamber up from the ditch and cut off the retreating soldiers. The gates of both were held open, their entrance being blocked by a line of shields, and behind them a line of archers, just on the off chance a stray Besemian got that far. Caldar rode through the gate of Casham and turned his horse immediately to watch his units making their way backwards towards him.

  The middle of his original line was now becoming overrun, and the enemy appeared to be massing before making their charge on his retreating men. He quickly ordered his cavalry based in the town, some fifty men, to mount and be ready for a charge. The first unit of men made it safely through, as did the second and third, but the last group was still someway short, when those opposing them charged in numbers. The enemy crashed into the shields, causing some to stumble and fall, these were immediately set upon by enraged attackers. The gaps were quickly filled by those positioned behind the fallen men to create a solid wall once more.

  The attackers started moving around encircling the stranded unit, attacking it from all angles, and Caldar watched as several of his number fell beneath the onslaught. He drew his sword and raised it, and ordered a charge. Galloping back out through the gate followed by the thundering hooves of his unit of cavalry, he led them straight into the enemy. Swinging his sword down low as he went, taking down the first man before he even had chance to turn, then driving his horse forward knocking two others off their feet. Knowing his men were following him close behind, he drove on a little further slicing down another foe. Pulling tight on the reins, he turned sharply as a number of his cavalry rode on past him, crashing into the enemy grouped up around the surrounded unit. Caldar knew this was going to have to be a quick smash and retreat manoeuvre, before he and his riders got over run. Once the i
nitial momentum of his charge was over, he signalled his men back towards the gate, hoping he had given the retreating infantry a chance to make their way back.

  The gates of Casham slammed shut, and were quickly bolted shut. Three large timber blocks were pushed through centre slots, just as the first axes could be heard thumping against the studded outside. With the benefit of stone walling, made taller by the trenches freshly dug around their outside the defenders rained arrows, spears and rocks down on the enemy crowding around below them. Dismounting off his horse Caldar made his way up to a point of vantage, a top a chapel roof near the edge of town. Looking off into the distance, he could see a similar situation to his own, whereby the town of Berston was being encircled by hordes of darkly dressed enemy troops. He felt his stomach turn as he watched the last few men of a stranded unit who had failed to make it back to the northern town, be hacked mercilessly from all angles.

  They started bracing the gates as the first of the battering rams slammed against them. Other than making a loud crashing sound and shaking slightly they held firm. A second and third blow thumped against them but for now, at least the large gates remained a solid barrier. Crossbow men fired up at the defenders felling a number of them, causing them to take cover, only showing themselves briefly to return fire. The young crown prince noticed that his northern town had used its oil, the thick black smoke of it burning rising upwards from around the dampened make shift barrier. Its defenders were throwing the ignited clay pots, which shattered when they hit something, spraying out the burning oils to anyone unfortunate enough to be within range. He hoped the temporary wooden stockade they had erected around Berston could hold out against the numbers attacking it. He knew if they were using the oil pots so early in the battle, either they had panicked, or its officers thought it in danger of being overrun.

  For what reason he did not know, but Caldar stood atop the flat chapel roof and thought of Luken, speaking quietly to himself. "I think I'm in trouble little brother," he looked up to the heavens as if seeking some divine intervention, and for the first time he could ever recall he felt scared. Not the fear of his life ending, but the thought he would not see his younger sibling again, "I fear I am going to have to break my promise to you little brother, I do not see any way of me getting out of this one." Time appeared to him as if suspended, just for a few seconds as he spoke his words, becoming totally oblivious to the continuing noise of battle all around him, as he felt a single tear roll down his cheek.

  Luken sat upon his horse looking down at his young adopted son. Taylor sat contently atop the pony, Gracie, bouncing gently up and down in time with the mount. They should if all went well within the next few hours, reach their destination. Their ride since being attacked the previous night had been uneventful, much to everyone's relief. General Skalton however, had not taken any risk and had continued his tactic of having scouts positioned far from the group to give warning of any peril. The long caravan of refugees followed the young prince, who had overseen them, survive not only the traumatic events of Hamalin, but also the attack by Darekian troops. As he rode, he looked down at his hand, after his not so clever idea of trying to manipulate fire by putting his fingers into the flames. He had expected it to be at least showing some signs of his stupidity, but much to his surprise none of his fingers so much as had any sign or feeling of a burn.

  The thought of Caldar came into his head as he rocked gently in motion with his horse. Closing his eyes tightly he willed and prayed to any god that may be listening to keep a watch over his brother. Losing his parents had been traumatic enough; the thought of anything-untoward happening to Caldar was unthinkable. He realised then that his older brother would probably not even be aware of the loss of his mother and father, let alone the bizarre happenings causing the destruction of Hamalin. Luken wished his brother were with him now, he would know what to do, Caldar would be so much better than him at leading these people. He had over five hundred following him, looking to him for inspiration and leadership, and though he kept the thought to himself, he was afraid of failing them. He had no experience in these matters, he was after all technically still a child himself. Yet this was the hand he had been dealt, and as much as it scared him, he would do what he could to see the people who looked to him, safe and unharmed.

  Caldar shouted at the group of men nearest to him, not a shout of admonishment but one of passion and encouragement. He still had no idea how he or anyone in this town could survive the onslaught that was the horde surrounding the walls of Casham. It did not take a genius to know, if the enemy were to scale an area of wall and get a foothold allowing more over the top, the town would fall and many would needlessly die. One option he did have, which had already occurred to him, though it was probably not one he or anyone would like, was to surrender. This was a last resort, which could save the lives of many innocent people. He turned to look at the increasing number of bodies being taken down from the defences behind the wall, not just his own men but also those that had called this town home.

  The sound of horns blowing came and the enemy surrounding his walls slowly drifted back, leaving behind a blanket of bodies, felled by the competent defenders of the town. Caldar watched, somewhat surprised, though grateful for the peculiar action. He looked to the north at Berston, and he sighed in relief as he watched the same thing happening there. He knew the enemy had not given up, he was not that naive, but he was thankful for the small mercy of a rest bite for his men. About half an hour after the enemy had retreated he returned to his position on the chapel roof, this time joined by his officers and watched as a huge campsite was being laid out. Tents were being erected and fires lit, "looks like they have had enough for one day your highness" one of his men said, "and I'm glad for it, see the men are well fed and given chance to rest. I somehow think we will have a resumption first light tomorrow."

  "Your highness, you know under the cover of darkness, it would perhaps be plausible to get you out," Caldar turned to the man; "No!" he spoke abruptly, "I cannot leave others to die whilst I am riding off into the night Captain. I will stay and fight, and if I happen to fall, then I will have gone out fighting not fleeing," "yes highness, I understand, but you know I must suggest it." Caldar nodded, "I know, what numbers do we have regarding casualties?" he enquired. "Well obviously not knowing how well those in Berston are coping, but our own are seventy three dead, a dozen or so injured to an extent where they cannot fight and about twenty or so with lesser injuries." So many he thought, even if they survived another day of this onslaught eventually the vast numbers of the enemy would over run his defences. "That's an interesting sight," the captain said interrupting his thoughts, "it appears some of them are leaving." They watched as what accounted for about two thousand men started marching northwards with a long train of supply wagons trailing behind them, "They look bound for Hamalin your highness."

  Caldar just stared out at the enemy camp, still well over one thousand fighting men besieging the towns he was defending. He realised the enemy knew very well it would only be a matter of time before the far superior numbers made a difference. Though maybe perhaps they could camp outside the towns and not risk any loss of men, eventually supplies within the towns would start running low. His new problem was how he could get a message to his father, to forewarn him of an impending attack. He hoped others on route of the enemy invading force, would have the wherewithal to give the capital some advance warning. With fewer attackers, maybe he could pool the two town's resources and make some sort of fight of it. The only problem, was he did not know how many of his men still survived in Berston. He did not want to make an aggressive move, only to find the help coming from the northern town was little more than a handful of fighting men.

  After discussions with his officers, Caldar did decide against any immediate sortie out of Casham. Though they agreed with him, a quick hit and run into the enemy could prove fruitful against a tired force, who appeared to be getting themselves comfortable for a long stay, that d
id remind him that his own men were tired and worn out. An unsuccessful raid out of the gates would see their numbers diminished further, and put the town at risk of not having enough combatants to operate on the walls to defend it.

  His own stomach grumbling reminded the crown prince he had not eaten for some time, and so made his way to a group of men sitting around a brazier. They all stood to attention as he joined them; "please, at ease gentlemen" he said waving his hand. "What do we have for a hungry prince?" he asked with a grin. One of the men waved over to a nearby group and two women walked over carrying a tray. "Your highness" one bowed her head as she passed it over to him, "thank you." The second woman held a pitcher and cup, "some wine highness?" "Please, that would be lovely" he replied, as she dutifully carried out the pouring and passing him the filled cup. Resting the tray on his lap, he took in the smell of the bowl of stew that sat upon it, and his stomach gurgled once more as if to tell him to hurry up and give it some nourishment. Breaking some bread, which he dipped into his food, a very un-prince like action, though none of the others around him thought anything of it.

  No sooner had he finished his stew and mopped the last of it up with the last bit of bread, than a young boy run to where he sat. Bowing his head slightly and speaking in his high pitch tone, "your highness, I was asked to bring you a message," Caldar just nodded and the youth continued. "The officers require you to join them upon the chapel roof your highness, they say it is most urgent." Sighing as he stood, "thank you young man" he ruffled the child's hair as he did, "run and tell them I will be with them in two minutes, just let me finish my drink." He gulped his wine down as the young messenger ran off to pass on his words, belching then wiping his mouth on his sleeve, before placing the cup down and making his way to the chapel.