Breaking an Empire (6 page)

Rhyfelwyr hunted up a cook and had him make the squad a hearty meal, their right after a day on forage duty. There was little conversation over the food, and only when their stomachs were satiated were they able to relax in front of the fire. Knowing Taflen had already spoken with Rhocas, Rhyfelwyr let the conversation roam, although it mostly settled on the ambush of the Lianese patrol.

“You know, I’ve been fighting beside you for years, and I’ve still never figured out how you get that close to lookouts. Do you crawl under the ground or something?” Locsyn was talking to Llofruddiwr.

“I move quietly.”

“No, I move quietly, and they can hear me from twenty paces. You move like a damn spirit, not even here in this world until you pop up and surprise everyone. If anyone actually survived meeting you, there might be a growing rumour about your skill, but you’re so good no one ever knows. And yeah, I know you like it that way, all quiet.”

“Yes.”

“Gwyth, you talk to me, you’ll say more words in one sentence than Llofruddiwr will in an entire day.”

Gwyth doubled over with laughter, then put on a silly expression. “Yes.”

“Oh bugger, not you too.”

Leaving the others to their mirth, Rhyfelwyr got up and tapped Rhocas on the shoulder, gesturing for the young soldier to follow into the quiet darkness. Rhocas did so reluctantly, and glanced at the warm fire more than once as he followed the sergeant.

Rhyfelwyr turned and eyed the firemage in the dark. Nerves were visible in every aspect of Rhocas’ stance, and the sergeant patted him on the arm before gesturing at the ground and sitting himself.

“I know you don’t want to be here, but I need to find out what’s going on. You saved Taflen’s life, but you also should have been there to protect his right flank in the first place. It turned out well, but what are you? Did the mages send you down here to live like a soldier for some reason?”

Rhocas mumbled at first, his voice faint in the night. “No, I’m not a firemage. Never noticed I had the talent. Me, or the people who tested me when I was young. It doesn’t come out much, until I’m angry or scared, and then it comes out in big waves, and gives me a headache afterwards. It started showing up a few years ago, and I thought something was wrong until I realized I had a talent with fire. It’s not all that useful.”

“Not all that useful? Taflen would be dead if you didn’t have it. That counts as useful to me. Now, why’d you never take yourself round to the firemages and get trained properly? That life’s better than grubbing along in the dirt with us soldiers.”

“Never wanted to, and thought I was too old to be allowed into the school, least by the time I knew anything. And when Ymerawdwyr was calling for young men to join the army, I decided I might as well go. I was mucking out stables at a caravan rest, so a soldier’s life is a step up from where I was.”

Rhyfelwyr nodded. “Still, you might want to go talk to the firemages. Doubt they can give you a lot of training between now and Horaim, but it might be worth it. Can’t hurt to have an extra tool or two, and could make your life a good deal better in the long run, if you can get bumped up.”

“I’d thought about it, but how would that work? They’re not going to believe that some poor fool of a soldier is a firemage because he says he is.”

“I’ll talk to them, and bring the squad with me. We’ve been around for long enough that officers know I’m not going to lie to them. We’ll do that on the morrow, after we’ve rested.” The sergeant chuckled. “Let’s get back to the others. I’m sure Locsyn’s about to have a fit from all the teasing.”

“Thanks, Rhy.” The sergeant glanced back and nodded, then led Rhocas to the camp fire, where they settled in for the night, laughing and talking before falling asleep.

***

The squad saw Rhocas little from that point onwards, for the firemages had believed the story and taken Rhocas for training. Often, the new mage would not return for mealtimes or sleep, too exhausted to wend his way across the camp.

Two days march from Horaim, the three segments of the army met and joined once more. Between them, there was enough food to last a week. If they did not capture whatever supplies remained in the city, the campaign would fail. It was presumed the Lianese knew this, and every soldier expected resistance would be extremely strong.

Rhyfelwyr was not looking forward to reaching Horaim, for although he had been in numerous battles, most of them had been wars of suppression, reminding provinces to behave, and the rest had been campaigns against bandits. Never before had he had to match wits and forces with another full army, and certainly not in a siege. The largest obstacle that he had invested was a small fort of no more than two hundred troops. The sergeant hoped his squad could survive.

A day of rearranging passed, and the camp fell asleep with the elements of the army settled in such a way that they could invest the city in the morning. It was to be a quick investment of only a few days, after which the soldiers would be sent against the walls. It was hoped those few days would give the Veryan officers the insight needed to break Horaim, for sacrificing troops would end this campaign as surely as starvation.

So it was on the morrow that Rhyfelwyr, Taflen, Locsyn and the others found themselves standing on a low mound some miles out, looking over the terrain that surrounded the city. Horaim was perched on a rise, a spine of sorts, that ran to the south. The walls were not high, perhaps ten feet off the ground at the crenellations, but they were constructed of stone, not the hoped-for wood. The gate was shut, and on both the walls and the towers that sat behind, the silhouettes of archers were visible. Outside Horaim, the land was green scrub, with nothing in the way of cover. A few small streams dotted the landscape, promising to break the force of a massed charge. Aside from the low height of the walls, there was little that offered hope. There had once been houses and a small slum outside the northern gate, but it had been burnt to the ground to stop it offering protection to the Veryan soldiers.

Locsyn nodded at the sweep of the army as it split into two columns to march to the east and the west of Horaim. “We’re risking them having another force in Niam Liad, and getting caught in the middle.”

“There is little we can do in that case, for if they have such a superiority of numbers, we will be done for regardless. I do not think that likely, however.” Taflen was the respondent.

“Oh, stop your moaning. We’ll smash them and be done with it. Look at those walls, I could walk straight through them.”

“Maybe you could, Gwyth, but the rest of us are normal people, not a hulking brute who can use his skin for armour.”

“Hey, I have good looking skin.”

“Compared to what, tree bark?”

Gwyth growled and shoved Locsyn, sending him sprawling in a loud clanking of armour and weapons. The large soldier stood with feet planted, staring down at the moustached man, anger turning his face a simmering red.

“Enough, enough. We’re supposed to be digging in to make sure the Lianese don’t use the north gate, not getting into fights. Gwyth, Locsyn, you can start digging the trenches. The rest of us will spell you when you need a break.”

The soldiers set about building small fortifications in front of their position with a determined look, a basic moat and wall system to break up charges. Once they had the primary trench built, the soldiers added a second shallow one some ten feet further out, in the hopes that two would fracture charges better than one, and that when the Lianese forces arrived at the wall, they would be disorganized and easier to combat.

Later that evening, Rhocas returned to their camp for the first time in several days. He still wore his battered and dirty armour, and on the outside had not changed at all, but the sergeant wondered if the nascent firemage stood with a straighter back, and a stronger gleam in his eye.

“Oh, so you can finally get back to work?” Locsyn twirled one end of his moustache in his hand while he spoke.

“I’m to be one of the secondary mages on this side of the walls, in case a breakout attempt happens. Hopefully, it means I don’t have to do much. I’m still better with a sword than a fire.”

“If you can do anything, it should cause a fair bit of panic. Just make sure to keep that armour on you if you do, because waving fire around is an invitation to end up looking like a pin cushion stuffed full of arrows.”

“Thanks, that’s really making me feel happy with this new role.”

“Well, if you’re smart, you’ll be so far back the arrows can’t reach you. We get to shield you then.” Rhocas shook his head at the comments, and the banter continued on into the night, one of the squad taking watch duty for each stretch, while the others spoke around the fire.

***

The next morning saw them wake tired, and to the fog of a grey, wet, sunrise. With no breath of wind to stir the blanket away, it appeared ready to sit all day long. Rhyfelwyr sighed, and ordered the men forward into a picket line near Horaim, but out of bow shot. The mist damped sound enough that if the Lianese troops sallied, there would be little warning, and so better that his squad be across the mouth of the gate.

The day passed cramped and uncomfortable, and when night fell and the fog began to lift, the squad returned to the fire damp and grumpy, only to be met by orders stating the attack was tomorrow, near dawn. Hearing that, Rhyfelwyr forced the squad to sleep, and did not bother setting watches for the night. A hearty meal in their bellies, the soldiers lay down to bed, although some had trouble passing out. It was to be a momentous morning for them all.

Their third of Glanhaol Fflamboethi assembled the next morning, before the sun had risen. Formed into a long column, they were to charge the north gate as it was destroyed. Rhyfelwyr hoped they could catch the Lianese forces before morning woke them, but as he looked towards the distant walls, shrouded by night, he shook his head. Today, he had a bad feeling.

A great burning noise filled the air, and a massive ball of fire lifted from the front ranks of the Veryan army and slammed into the portal and surrounding wall, shattering them into rubble. A roar thundered, and the column surged, building pace to a run.

Rhyfelwyr and his squad had been designated to capture warehouses. The food situation was desperate enough that capturing those supplies could change the outcome of the campaign, and so the sergeant gritted his teeth and raised his shield high, warding off the arrows he felt sure to come. Around him, Gwyth and Locsyn and Taflen kept time, while Llofruddiwr had disappeared. That didn’t surprise Rhyfelwyr at all; it meant the assassin had been close to the walls when the explosion opened the gates, and was already causing havoc inside Horaim.

Glanhaol Fflamboethi crossed the open ground with no shower of arrows falling upon them, and as the column passed into the city, it began to fracture into many smaller commands, each heading towards their set targets. It was but a few moments later that the sounds of fighting erupted, and archers appeared on rooftops and leaning out of windows as Lianese soldiers burst from their places of concealment to strike the Veryan troops in their flanks. Momentarily bewildered, the Veryan forces found their footing and fought back with a vengeance, blades clashing against shield and short spear.

Rhyfelwyr found himself fighting alongside Gwyth and and Locsyn, the three of them broad enough to block a small alley, using their mass and their skill to carve into the Lianese troops. Gwyth was less graceful, using his brute strength to batter the foes in front of him with his shield, before slamming his crescent axe through their armour. Taflen had taken station at their backs, and his sword flickered over the shield wall whenever an opening appeared, oft taking a foe in the neck, leaving them writhing and bloody on the ground.

An arrow slammed into Gwyth’s arm, causing him to curse and look upwards. Archers had taken station on the roof above them, and were picking their spots to fire into the Veryan squad. Rhyfelwyr glanced at Gwyth’s wound and then upwards, muttering, for he could not use his shield to protect both his front and his top. Waving with his sword, he called for the others to step back, slowly disengaging from the Lianese forces in order to make a break away from the archers. Staying alive was more important than killing these few soldiers.

Locsyn screamed, and Taflen saw a javelin had been thrust through his shield and the arm holding it, locking the two together and leaving it almost useless. Diving forward, he brought his shield up in time to stop the thrust coming over Locsyn’s useless defences, and was able to flick his sword out in a low cut, hamstringing his opponent. Stepping in front of his friend, the historian placed his shield so that it might cover both of them as best as possible, and began to step backwards, Locsyn taking Taflen’s former place at the back of the shield wall, his sword stabbing over the defences, but without much strength behind it, for his wound was grievous and incapacitating.

The Lianese soldiers pressed forward, shouting for more arrows to fall upon their foes. Their answer came as a body plummeted from the roof to slam into a Lianese soldier, breaking his neck. Two more bodies fell, landing again on soldiers, and then arrows began to rain down, piercing the bodies of the Lianese as they sought to retreat from the suddenly charging trio of Rhyfelwyr, Gwyth, and Taflen. The Lianese fled only a few steps before they were cut down, blades slicing through kidneys and spines. The sergeant looked upward and raised his sword in salute, knowing he would see Llofruddiwr standing there. Sure enough, his old friend waved back, captured Lianese bow in hand, before disappearing behind the roof line.

A hand clapped Rhyfelwyr on the shoulder, and he spun round to see Rhocas standing behind him, along with two more squads of soldiers. “What are you doing here, lad? You’re supposed to be in the main van.”

Rhocas chuckled. “Always new orders. Didn’t you tell me that? I’m supposed to assist you in capturing the warehouses, along with this lot.”

“Good. Give us a few minutes and we’ll be ready. Llof is scouting ahead.”

Rhocas nodded, and the soldiers sat in the alleyway, free to rest. While they waited, a cutter came and attended to the wounds on Gwyth and Locsyn, breaking the arrow and pulling it from Gwyth’s arm. The large man grunted once, then fell back into silence. For Locsyn, the cutter had to saw through the metal head of the javelin, and by the time he was done, the veteran was white, his face sweating as he breathed rapidly. Pulling the spear from the wound saw Locsyn faint away, while the cutter stuffed herbs into both ends of the wound before wrapping it in cloth.