Prince of Wrath (67 page)

“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.

Astiras breathed out and waved his unit forward through the lines of his spearmen. He wanted now to see what was going to happen to the rest of the battle. As far as he was concerned, his men had held and thrown back all the Venn had to give. They had earned their victory. He leaned over towards Sepan, who was hot, sweaty and bloody. “Well done, Captain. Give your men water and succour; they have earned it. I shall go and join the final attack while you can rest.”

Sepan saluted wearily and waved his junior officers to form the men into units and take water. The fallen would be gathered and the wounded tended to.

Astiras now walked out on his steed to survey the battle before him. The Venn had rallied slightly with the arrival of Alcazui and his cavalry, but Vanist now waded in and struck the Venn hard. The fighting was particularly vicious, and the battle wavered to and fro. The Venn weren’t giving up easily, but they were giving ground, their retreat marked by the fallen. A cry went up and Alcazui fell from his saddle.

“That’s it,” Astrias commented. “Come on, let’s join the fray; they’re leaderless now.” He led his men on a charge, the sixty men – for two had fallen in the melee – thundering in on the exposed right flank of the horror-stricken Venn. The impact knocked the formation in on itself, crushing men. Trapped between the Mazag and the heavy cavalry of the emperor, the Venn broke, flinging away their weapons and trying to flee into the woods.

“I want prisoners!” Astiras roared. His men galloped in between groups of running men and forced many to their knees at sword point, gathering the yielded into a large group who were then escorted towards the gatehouse. They would be put to use building the walls of Zofela.

Vanist came up to Astiras and threw back his visor. He smiled grimly. “A victory, your highness,” he said in Mazag. Astiras did not understand but knew one of his men did and beckoned the man over to translate.

“Yes, and congratulations to your men, too, General,” he replied. “Mazag has shown its valor and bravery today. Word of it and your courage in battle will be sent round my lands, and all will know we have an honourable friend in Mazag.”

Vanist grunted. It was so much flattery and diplomatic nonsense, and both men knew it. Still, niceties between allies had to be observed. “Your men took those charges well. I am impressed.”

Astiras smiled, his face red and sweaty. He removed his helm. That was better. “Indeed; they shall be rewarded. Kastanian arms have recovered much of their reputation this day. I will hold a victory banquet tonight in the castle; you and your officers are invited. I shall order a street celebration for the soldiers, and your men are welcome to partake.”

Vanist bowed. The thought appealed to him. “We shall be honoured to come. Now, if you will excuse me, I have my wounded to care for.” He saluted and wheeled away.

Teduskis looked at Astiras. “A victory banquet?”

“Why not? We’ve won against a foreign power for the first time in decades. I want the entire empire made aware of it as soon as possible. Now let’s go and find out the butcher’s bill.”

They returned to the site of the battle between his men and the Venn cavalry. Bodies lay scattered over a wide area. There were more Kastanians than Venn, and here and there a dead or dying equine lay. Astiras stopped and looked at the lines of men standing before him. “Men of Kastania. You have won today through sheer courage. Standing firm before cavalry charges takes a lot of guts. I am proud of you all. Tonight, there will be a street party and you can all partake. Your fallen comrades will be honoured. Now you may return to your families and friends. Dismissed.”

The men bowed and dispersed, the strain of battle etched on their faces. Townsfolk had come out and were going from body to body, seeking their loved ones. Cries of despair and sorrow were beginning to rise up, and Astiras gently urged his equine towards the gates. “Come on Teduskis, I want to get out of this damned armor and relax. I want a tally of the fallen ready by the time I’ve had my bath.”

He left his mount at the stables and wearily walked through the ward towards the staircase. As he got to the foot of them a wild cry of joy reached his ears. Argan was bounding down, his arms out wide. Astiras braced himself. Here was one last charge he would have to take – he briefly thought of his soldiers taking the Venn cavalry – then he had a laughing and chattering boy against his breastplate. “Oh, father! It was amazing watching the battle! All those equines! Are you unhurt? Are you tired?”

Astiras smiled and gently pulled the boy from him. At the top stood Isbel, her face drawn. Taking Argan by the shoulder, he tramped up the steps. “I’m unhurt, Argan, yes. It was a noisy and hard battle, but I triumphed.”

“I knew you would! Those Mazag were scary, weren’t they? All those spears and things.”

Argan’s chattering ended as Astiras reached the top and faced Isbel. “I’m fine, my dear,” he said softly, smiling. “And we’re safe from the Venn.”

Isbel flung her arms round her husband. Astiras chuckled and squeezed his wife. “Told you everything would be alright. I was in no doubt we’d win. Now let me get out of this damned armour – I’m boiling to death in it!”

Argan was too excited to calm down. The battle had been a fascinating show from his arrow slit, and he hurried to his room to get out his military figures to play with them, recreating in his own manner the conflict he’d just witnessed. Kerrin joined him, equally excited by the spectacle. Neither saw the groaning and sobbing men lying in the shadow of the castle, their wounds being tended to by their loved ones or the women of the town. Some of the injuries were so severe that red hot iron had to be applied to cauterise the wounds.

The dead were being separated; the Kastanians laid out in neat rows to be identified, the Mazag for their own people to take care of, and the Venn who were piled in one mass, ready to be burned away from the town. Teduskis came in, hot, dirty and sweaty. Vosgaris met him at the gatehouse. “Congratulations, General,” Vosgaris said. He was irked at not being allowed to participate in the battle.

Teduskis eyed the young officer. “I know you’re not pleased at being left behind, but I feel in my bones that they’ll be back. This was too easy – Venn will try again, if only to avenge this defeat. They have plenty of soldiers spare to form another army, and Mazag may not remain our allies for too long. I imagine Venn will try to separate our alliance before coming in for another bite at us. If that’s the case, I think you may see action. I’m getting too old for this. I think I’ll be – promoted – to a ceremonial post before long.” He pulled off his steel plated gauntlets and slapped them against his thigh. “We lost quite a lot of men today, especially amongst the Bragalese. They were unarmoured and untrained, and took the full brunt of their second charge.”

“I saw. How many did we lose, General?”

“A hundred and forty-nine,” Teduskis said darkly. “And more injured. Those poor souls outside. I’m not sure how many of them will be fit to return to duty after this. General Vanist tells me he lost an equal number.”

“Three hundred? So many!”

“Aye. Venn lost more – just over four hundred, and another hundred and seventy or so taken prisoner. Something like eighty-five got away, but they won’t last very long, not with the Bragalese hunting them. They’ll get even for the burning of their villages. I wouldn’t be surprised to come across a few hanging Venn by the roadsides in the next few days.”

Vosgaris pursed his lips. “Then their entire army has been lost.”

“Oh yes. That won’t go down well. Their diplomat is one of the prisoners and I suspect he’ll be set free to take the news back to Venn. No doubt I’ll be assigned to escort him,” Teduskis pulled a face. “You’ll have to excuse me, Captain, but I must go and get out of these things,” he slapped his armour.

Vosgaris saluted and waited till the general vanished through the keep entrance before turning to his guardsmen, standing patiently in a line on the grassy border of the ward. “Alright men, you can get to your normal duties. Keep alert; there may be rogue Venn wandering about. Challenge anyone you’re not sure of. Dismissed.”

He wandered into the keep, hearing the excited chatter about the victory. Another triumph for Astiras. He wondered just how long the old warrior would be able to keep going. He wasn’t a young man anymore. Alenna appeared, her face breaking into a mixture of relief and pleasure. She kissed him lightly. “I’m glad that’s all done with! I was worried for quite some time that we’d be put to the sword.”

“You should have more faith in the emperor and the men, Alenna. We’re no longer the directionless and demoralised rabble of a few years back. Kastania still has teeth.”

“Hmm, and how much is that due to the Mazag helping us? I’m not stupid, Vosgaris. If it had been down to just the Venn and us, would we have won?”

“Who knows?” Vosgaris shrugged. “The point is our alliance held and emerged victorious. Oh, tonight, there’s a victory banquet. You and I are to come. Best outfit.”

“Oh! I’ve not got one,” Alenna said, dismayed. “At least not good enough for a banquet with the emperor!”

“Leave it to me,” Vosgaris said and squeezed her around the middle before walking on, checking the doors and windows. He found himself outside the imperial chamber, knocked, and entered once permission had been given. The two guards outside hadn’t batted an eyelid.