Fire and Sword (36 page)

“Move the archers from the rise,” he ordered Charion. “Shift them all to the left flank. They have a greater range than the horse archers. When the enemy attack starts to flag, transfer them to the right flank.”

It was not what Charion wanted to hear, but she was smart enough to know it was the most she would get from Sendarus at this point in the battle. She hurried forward to give the orders to the archers.

“That will leave our own center vulnerable,” Galen pointed out.

“And offer a tempting target for Lynan,” Sendarus countered. “Once he moves, we will know where to commit your knights. I hope he commits sooner rather than later.”

Galen silently agreed.

It all seemed so unreal for Jenrosa. Beside her, sitting on one of the big stallions taken from the victory at the Ox Tongue, Kumul stared straight ahead, occasionally turning his head slightly one way and then the other. His face was almost blank; the smallest of frowns creased his forehead. Before her, she could see the thin front line of the Red Hands and Ager’s clan warriors. Beyond that there was a muffled, metal noise, like the sounds from a busy kitchen heard from the street. A cloud of white dust slowly drifted over the whole plain.

She tried to see inside her own mind, but there was nothing there except her own confusion. She wondered what Lasthear and the other magickers who had come with the army were thinking right now. The previous night she had asked Lasthear if there was some incantation they could use to help ensure victory, and Lasthear had laughed at her. “We might make it rain,” Lasthear said, “but I can’t see how that could help. Or we could start a fire and hope it spreads the right way on the grass, but I can’t see how that would help either. No, best to strap on a sword and join someone you are prepared to die with.”

Well, novice with a sword though she was, she was by Kumul, and there she would stay.

A rider galloped up to them. “His Majesty asks that you come to him.”

Kumul nodded, and he and Jenrosa followed the rider back to Lynan. Ager, Gudon, and Korigan were already there.

“Any sign of heavy cavalry?” Kumul asked.

Korigan shook her head.

“What of Areava?”

Again Korigan shook her head.

“But they have brought up archers to their left flank. I am starting to lose riders. If I pull my forces back from that wing, the enemy commander will just switch the archers to the opposite. If something isn’t done, our whole attack will stall, and I’m certain their infantry is close to collapsing.”

Kumul and Lynan looked at each other. “Your lancers have their target,” Lynan said.

“The baby is starting to come,” the midwife said. “I can feel her crown.”

“Keep on pushing, your Majesty,” Trion said, grimacing. Areava was gripping one of his hands so tightly if felt as if his fingers might break.

Areava kept on pushing.

“Olio?” she panted.

“I’m sorry. He isn’t here yet.”

Charion was starting to breathe a little easier. Her foot archers had forced back the Chetts, giving her infantry time to remove their dead and then reform their lines; the infantry crouched low and in straight lines, their shields covering their heads and sides, their spears held vertically to give some interference against flights of enemy arrows. The queen was about to send the archers across to the other flank when there was a new sound. It was not the rolling galloping of the horse archers darting in, but something heavier, slower. There was a glimmer of something as yet indistinct behind all the dust.

Sendarus joined her. “What is that sound?” he asked.

Charion shook her head. “I’m not... God, it can’t be.”

The dust cloud had parted for a moment, and she had seen what looked like massed cavalry, and they were carrying lances. She looked at Sendarus. “Tell me I didn’t just see Chett cavalry starting a charge.”

“Can you hold them?” he asked.

“I don’t know.” There was a note of desperation in her voice. “We’ll try.”

“It is time for Galen and his knights to play their part,” Sendarus said. “Hold for ten minutes more, that’s all I ask.”

Charion ordered her infantry to stand and move to alternate ranks, filling the gaps between the lines, then told the front rank to go to one knee. The first two lines dug the buts of the spears into the ground, holding the points out at forty-five degrees, each succeeding line holding their spears a little more vertically than the one before. The maneuver was just completed when the horse archers appeared again, the sound of their coming hidden by the deeper thunder now swelling over them. A hail of arrows fell among the more closely packed infantry, and then another. The foot archers hastily moved out of marching order into some kind of line and started shooting back, but only sporadically.

Charion swore as her infantry, almost involuntarily, started to edge back.

“Hold your ground!” she shouted at them. “Whatever you do, hold your ground!”

But the infantry were starting to waver. One or two soldiers dropped their spears and ran, others looked over their shoulder to see them flee and were on the verge of doing the same. And then, as quickly and silently as they had come, the horse archers disappeared.

Before any of them could breathe a sigh of relief, a wall of solid horse appeared before them with glittering spear points; leading them was a giant man on a giant stallion, and each infantryman felt that the giant’s sword was pointed directly at his head. The sound of the enemy’s coming filled their ears The line crumbled like a sand bank before a flood. The infantry threw away their spears and fled, running as fast as their tired legs could carry them, but it was too late. The first wedge of Chett lancers ignored them and carried on to the now defenseless archers, ploughing into them with savage ferocity, but the second wedge chased after them, their momentum carrying them through any resistance.

Charion galloped away from the onslaught, looking for any troops she could use to form a second line or just to throw in the way of the Chett attack so Galen’s knights had time to get into action, but all around her were fleeing for their lives.

Kumul tried to recall his lancers, but they were carried away with bloodlust.
Lynan kept them on the leash for too long,
he cursed.
They’ve gone crazy.
The first banner was still together and under his command, but the other had broken into smaller groups intent on hunting down and killing every enemy soldier they could find. Around him were the remains of what had been a Hume regiment of archers. At least they would no longer be a threat. Now, if only he could get his own banners to reform, he might even be able to carry the battle to the enemy’s center, or maybe even the opposite flank.

He gave command of the first wedge to Jenrosa and personally corralled a handful from the second, and from that small core started to reorganize it. When the battle was over he would make damn sure they knew how much they had failed him, failed Lynan, and failed as trained cavalry.

The wedge was almost completely reformed when he looked up and saw single riders galloping back.
About bloody time,
he thought, but as they drew closer, he saw the fear on the faces of the riders and realized they were fleeing from something. And there was only one thing he believed his lancers would be afraid of. He peered north, toward the enemy’s center. A silvery line shimmered in the middle distance. He saw pennants and horsetail plumes. He knew what it meant.

Now what?
he asked himself. His first wedge was still pretty fresh, but the second was sitting on a lot of blown horses. He rode to Jenrosa.

“Take back the second banner. They cannot move quickly, but get them out of the way. Tell Korigan we need horse archers up here, quickly.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Give you the time you need to get away.”

“No,” Jenrosa said firmly. “You tried to do that once before, remember, for Lynan, and
he
came back. I’m not going to leave you now.”

“This isn’t for me,” Kumul told her levelly. “It’s for the four hundred Chetts who make up the second banner. Get them back to safety for me. You are one of Lynan’s companions. They will obey you.”

“I can’t leave you to die.”

“We will all die if someone doesn’t tell Korigan to hurry up. Can you use your magic right now?”

Jenrosa shook her head. “I need time to prepare—”

“There is no more time. Get these troops away and come back with Korigan. That way there’s a chance we’ll both be alive after all this is over.”

Kumul did not wait for her to reply, but turned to give orders to his first banner. It moved forward at a quick walk, flowing around Jenrosa and then leaving her behind.

Sendarus rode forward with Galen. Everything now depended on saving their left flank and repelling the Chett lancers. If they could do that, they could win the battle; if the lancers went unchecked, nothing would save them.

The knights rode forward in three straight lines, each line with around five hundred knights. They moved at a slow canter and so closely together that Sendarus could reach out and touch the shoulders of the riders to his left and right.

They first met their own infantry, fleeing unarmed from the field. Close behind them were scattered bands of Chett lancers, but Galen refused to break his lines to go after them. The lancers saw them and quickly retreated in panic. The knights, the best trained cavalry on the continent, smoothly increased their pace to a quicker canter on Galen’s order. No words or oaths came from their lips, but everyone on the battlefield could hear the jingling of their mail and wheel stirrups, the tattoo of their stallions’ hooves on the now bare and compressed ground. Ahead, they could now see at least two wedges of enemy troops, and the giant who led them; they all knew his name, and hated him. Galen shouted a command, and they couched their lances in one swift and uniform movement and automatically increased their pace to the gallop.

It was at this point that things started getting confusing for Sendarus, his head almost completely closed in his traditional Aman helmet. The horizon jiggled crazily through the narrow slits from which his eyes peered, and all he could hear was his own breathing. He concentrated on staying mounted during the rolling ride as the line charged the nearest enemy formation.

Then something loomed in his restricted vision. He straightened his sword and bent his elbow and shouted his own country’s war cry, the roar of the great bear. Suddenly, there was a great crash. Horses screamed and went down, men cried in shock and pain. Sendarus could hear metal rending metal, and the softer whack of flesh and bone being butchered. He kept on going. Having obviously missed his target he reined in, wheeled, and charged in again, but in the confusing melee ahead he could not make out who was a knight and who was a Chett. He took off his helmet and hurled it away angrily. A Chett rode past, lance held overhand, and Sendarus went after him. The Chett must have heard his horse despite all the din because he turned just in time for Sendarus’ sword to drive through his chest instead of his back. Sendarus twisted it free as the Chett fell off his horse, already dead. He kicked his mount further into the fray, pushing aside the riderless mare. In front of him, two Chetts were getting the better of one of the poorer knights— who could afford only a sleeveless mail hauberk—and both his arms were bleeding profusely. Sendarus hacked into one, dropping him almost immediately, but was too late to save the knight, who was struggling to pull out the lance that had been driven through his neck. The surviving Chett reached for his sword, but was not able to unsheath it before Sendarus cut off his head. The dying knight had disappeared by then, his horse panicking and taking him away from the battle.

Sendarus found himself in the clear, and it was obvious to him that the knights were winning this battle easily. They outnumbered the Chetts by at least three to one, had better body armor, and all wore helmets. The Chetts were fighting desperately, though, and most desperate and dangerous of all was their leader, Kumul Alarn. He swung his sword as easily as an average man could swing a twig, slicing off limbs and heads with terrifying ease. Galen and three other knights were already moving around behind him, but Kumul seemed to physically pull the stallion around with him. His sword rose and fell, cutting through the helmet and the skull of the luckless knight underneath. The knight fell back, his blood fountaining over his comrades, taking Kumul’s sword with him. Kumul swore, punched another knight in the face and took his sword, but as he raised it high to strike down on another enemy, Galen saw his opportunity and struck, sending the point of his own sword deep into the armpit of the giant. Kumul let out a terrible bellow and for an instant seemed to freeze in place. Another knight sent a slashing blow into Kumul’s back, the blade sinking deep. Galen and the knight drew out their swords at the same time and Kumul visibly slumped over the front of his stallion, then slipped sideways to the ground. A great wail went up from the Chetts and the sound of it chilled every knight who heard it.

Jenrosa had led the banner of exhausted lancers to the rear of the Chett line, the whole time looking around desperately for Korigan, but the queen was nowhere to be seen. She thought of Lynan and headed toward the center. She could see him there, surrounded by Ager and Gudon, looking out over the battle. She called out to him but he did not hear, and rode closer. She opened her mouth to try again, but another sound cut across her, a sound of such pain and sorrow and anger that she knew immediately, instinctively, what it heralded. She added her own voice to the cry, and heard other Chetts do the same.

Then she heard Lynan’s scream, and it was as if a real grass wolf had taken human form. Before anyone could stop him he charged forward, straight for the enemy’s center.

The Chett lancers had fought with more courage and tenacity than Sendarus had ever encountered before in an enemy, but they were all dead now, lying in bloody heaps on the ground with their leader. He sighed with relief, because now he knew the Chetts were going to lose the battle.