Chapter XXIII
Hammerhead
Marshal Ti was standing over the large thick set table in Jin’s tent, plans and maps were strewn haphazardly over it. Jin had given him his final orders before being forced to leave, as even he could not refuse a summons by the Master of the Guild Houses, who though pleased with the spoils from Hecata, was understood to be furious at the loss of an entire Wrath army. Jin was still ready to delay his departure until word had reached him that night of another uprising that was occurring in the lands of Quinn. Rumours of an entire Mandrake army being defeated had spread throughout the Imperium like a brush fire. The insurgency that had been thought put down had been rekindled more intensely than ever. Jin had therefore been forced to leave for the Central Kingdoms, so that he could settle with those rebellious fractious fools once and for all.
After the defeat of the Wrath army Jin had anticipated that word would eventually reach the Guilders, and that he would subsequently be recalled, with that in mind, prior to his leaving he gave a briefing to his general staff that before his return, the Mandrake were to be in the City of the Finns. This had left Marshal Ti with the opportunity to expedite the war the way Jin had wanted it to be done. There was still no indication that his elite troops, which had previously been sent into the labyrinth, had made it through to Findolin. The Marshal now considered those men lost, casualties of a war long overdue its end. Nevertheless one thing the many battles he had fought, had taught him, was that to win any war required steadfastness, an obsessive discipline, and the ability to be flexible through unforeseen circumstances, and it was exactly that unpredictability which made war so exciting. The Mandrake Imperium was currently throwing thousands of Marauders and Wrath at Findolin in a hope of finally breaching its walls, but still the people of Findolin held out; fighting like devils to protect their city. There had been no bridgehead made, as he had hoped, no sign that the enemy wavered in their defence; in fact they had shown the type of stoicism that the Mandrake would be proud of.
Marshal Ti’s plan was a simple one; rebuild the ramps wooden bridge to the plateau, make it sturdier than before by giving it a canopy of shields to protect it from the ravages of the Finns. Once this was done it would be possible to reach the City gates with the Rams head. He would then simultaneously get the diggers to weaken one of the walls from beneath, and concentrate his ballista on that wall. And thus victory would be achieved.
From what Marshal Ti understood of the Finns the likelihood was that they would simply remain behind their walls; not daring to ride out and meet his army on the plain in open combat, as this would lead to their utter ruin. Also thought the Marshal, the Finns new weapon still probably had not been fully developed, otherwise why had it not been used. Since Jin had made sure there would be no interference from the Elementals, there was nothing to prevent his success. Jin had also relented in one other matter of import, on his return he would bring the beast Typhon with him, another reason for him leaving. Typhon would have helped with the conquest of Findolin and Osgaroth; but for now the war would be concluded without any more assistance coming from the Central Kingdoms. The delays that had dogged Jin would not prevent Marshal Ti from his aims.
The Marshal left the tent to review the legions of the Mandrake and make an appraisal of the situation. The wounded passed him by, some had lacerations as though a big cat had clawed at them, and others were carried lifeless from the scene to be dumped in the many ditches that had been dug close to the encamped army. The Siege engines sat, smouldering, burnt out effigies to the cause that had floundered but was soon to be rekindled. He needed to find out somehow the mindset of his enemy. Marshal Ti did not now believe the Queen of Askalon had died; there had been no seed of enmity sown between the Askalons and the Finns, which was disappointing but not totally unexpected as she was after all a powerful sorceress.
There was one other thing that might still enable him to defeat the Finns sooner rather than later. Come morning he would challenge the King of Findolin to single combat and kill him. If he was foolhardy enough to accept such a challenge perhaps his death might be the one thing that would finally break the Finns resolve. The Marshal lifted his mace; it was the most menacing of single combat weapons but had not been used in the war except for small skirmishes.
The Marshal ordered a cease to the hostilities to give his men time to regroup; he then retired to his tent. The next day he would make sure the city was brought to heel. That night seemed to pass slowly, towards dawn, he was woken by the sound of a horn, the alarm was echoing round the camp. He had not got undressed from the day before, so he jumped up and hurried outside. There to his astonishment was the army of the Finns, forming up at the base of the plateau, again a horn sounded; it was the signal for the men to muster. He could not believe his good fortune, this was the first real mistake the Finns had made, and surely it would prove to be fatal, by the end of the day Findolin would be his. His army outnumbered the Finns and their allies by about three to one and with the Wrath among his forces once turned to Wolfmen, it would seem like six to one. His legions disciplined as ever were busy getting into formation. He spread the word they were to form a crescent. He would then encircle the opposing forces as best he could, and try to cut off any escape they had from their city. When the time had come for them to retreat he would make sure that there was no where to retreat to. Their withdrawal would turn into a rout, and the rout would become a slaughter. Observing the enemy lines he could see even from such a distance, something unexpected, they did not look undernourished or half starved or that they had been decimated by plague, which begged the question, why had they chosen now to come out to fight. Their armour was pristine, as though they had not been in a battle at all. The morning sun seemed to bounce off their shields, making it seem that the plain had turned to a sea of gold. The enemy had just before dawn opened the gates to the city and had used the ramp built by the Mandrake to file men down onto the plain and into position. The Marshal grunted to himself at the audacity of his foe. He noticed the Askalons were out front and between each warrior was an archer of a people he did not recognise, and further over were the Finns. The Marshal simply could not contain his laughter; the enemy must have lost their minds to come out against his powerful army.
Din stood by also bemused by what he saw. No one had dared come out to fight in open battle against the Mandrake for many a year. So this sight was a little perplexing. Did they really believe they could win?
“Din,” said the Marshal. “I want you to take a message to that King of theirs, see if he will meet me in open combat in front of our troops and theirs. We shall find out finally what there true mettle is. Promise him that should he win we will disband our forces and leave.”
Achil & The Rise Of The Mandrake Page 39