The Pen and the Sword (Destiny's Crucible Book 2) (41 page)

Yozef
heard nothing recognizable. The musket and cannon fire, overlaid on top of
hundreds of men yelling and screaming and the wounded horses, saturated either
his ears’ or his brain’s ability to process a wall of sound.

Twenty
seconds after the first salvo, hundreds of Keelan muskets and three swivel
carriages began independent fire, as the men reloaded as fast as possible. They
had no cover themselves, especially once they rose from or stepped out from
concealment, for which there was no need. Most of the Eywellese firearms were
dropped in the chaos or fired from panicked horses. Meanwhile, Keelan men
reloaded and fired directly into the Eywellese mass. Scores of unhorsed
Eywellese ran toward the woods, often having lost their weapons, in no frame of
mind to be a threat and who could be ridden down at leisure.

By
the time the remaining Eywellese horsemen tried to retreat down the alley,
Vortig Luwis closed the trap, as he led four hundred Keelan men back from their
feigned retreat to block the alley’s entrance. The four hundred Eywellese riders
still on their horses had no order or goal except escape. They scattered, every
man for himself. For some unfathomable reason, a few turned back down the alley,
only to face Denes’s muskets again. A few flung themselves at the blocking
Keelan horsemen, perhaps in a fatalistic move to go down fighting. Of the thousand
Eywellese who had left their positions to pursue Culich, less than two hundred
escaped in all directions and ceased to be relevant.

As
Culich and his men passed the ambush opening, they wheeled to support Denes and
face any Eywellese who got through the ambush. It wasn’t necessary. Eleven
Eywellese survived the hail of lead and the tangle of dead and dying, to find
themselves surrounded by Keelan horsemen and foot soldiers.  Brandor Eywell was
one of the eleven but escaped only for seconds before a musket ball severed his
aorta. Culich noted the body on the ground, as he forced his horse back through
the milling mass to assess the ambush results. He thought himself prepared until
he saw the creek clogged with bodies of men and horses, the downstream water
flowing red, and the alley an abattoir.

Although
the island had been relatively peaceful compared to the earlier generations,
Culich had seen his portion of conflicts: criminals, bandits, family or clan
vendettas, and a few more serious skirmishes, particularly with the Eywellese. He
knew, intellectually, that the Narthani brought a new level of conflict to
Caedellium, but this was the first time he saw the result for himself.

“Merciful
Creator! My God! What have we come to?!”

 The
swivel cannon and crews stood silent after firing five times. Only sporadic
Keelan muskets continued, as men thought they had a living target. Denes
yelled, the muskets quieted, and Culich cringed, as men ran into the carnage to
finish wounded Eywellese and horses.

What
kind of world are we in? Is this the real world of Anyar, and we’ve been living
a deluded fantasy?

Culich
turned away to assess his clansmen. So few of his people had fallen, compared
to what they did to the Eywellese.

I
thank you, God, for
that
mercy.

Denes
and Yozef likewise stood, eyes on the slaughter, although with different
thoughts than Culich. They had seen it all happen—every second, every
volley—the Eywellese horses and men swept down by the merciless Keelan fire.

For
Denes, it was grim satisfaction that the ambush had worked so well.

Yozef
hadn’t pissed himself, as he had during the abbey raid, although he again tasted
bile. Wyfor had given him a musket, still unfired. Part of him wanted to keep
himself separate from the fighting, as if keeping himself, or his soul, clean.

I
did this. I know I didn’t kill anyone myself, and lord knows I didn’t want to
be here, but I can’t avoid it was my suggestions that led to this.

He
knew the fate planned by the Narthani and the Eywellese for his adopted people
and Maera and knew they had no choice. Any help he gave was justified, but he
also knew his hands were covered in blood that would never quite wash clean.

In
spite of his nausea, Yozef was the first of the three men whose thoughts moved
on.

Yozef
ran to Vegga. “Denes! We need to move.”

Denes
didn’t acknowledge Yozef.

“Denes!”
Yozef shouted again. No response. Yozef reached out, grasped Denes’s right arm,
and swung him around. “Denes! Wake up! We need to move
NOW,
before the
Narthani realize what happened! If we wait too long, all this’ll have been for
nothing.”

Denes’s
eyes cleared and he focused on Yozef. They stood staring at each other for
several seconds, then as if a switch flipped, Denes whirled and ran fifty yards
to where Culich sat frozen on his horse. Yozef couldn’t make out the words, but
Culich shouted, horns sounded, and a score of men on foot or horse raced to
their hetman.

Yozef
roused the artillery crews to secure their pieces. The horse teams were brought
forward with their limbers and the carriages attached. By the time Denes
returned, their three artillery pieces, crews, cannon-experienced men, and the
crossbow carriages were ready to move.

When
Denes reached Culich, he brought the hetman back to the moment, similar to the
way Yozef did him, except he grabbed the hetman’s horse’s bridle and swung the
mount around to break Culich’s fixed gaze on the result of the ambush.

“Hetman!
Hetman!” Denes yelled until Culich focused on him. “We must move quickly to
take advantage of this!”

Culich
shook himself, glanced once more at the abattoir of the creek bed and alley,
and started yelling. Horns sounded for leader assembly, and within minutes, men
raced off with their orders. Riders went to Luwis to initiate the smokescreens,
as had been done for the frontal demonstration against the Narthani line, and
then to use his own judgment to decide the right moment for his men and those
of Hetman Gwillamer to attack the remaining Eywellese protecting the Narthani
right flank. Hetman Mittack joined his men to the Keelanders Culich had led as
bait and moved north to come in behind the Eywellese on the Narthani right
flank. Culich’s part was over. The hetman would remain to the rear and maintain
command-and-control
, as Yozef called it. Yozef didn’t tell Culich there
was little the hetman could do except say out of the way and be safe.

Denes’s
dragoons remounted and moved up the northern side of the alley, which was more
devoid of bodies. On the way, a few men finished sweeping the nightmare in the
alley to dispatch wounded horses and men. There would be no prisoners. Any
medical care would be reserved for their own wounded. If the allied clans took
wounded prisoners, what would they do with these enemies? They couldn’t be
returned to fight again and kill Keelanders, and there was no will or resources
to hold them prisoners. The men moved swiftly through the piles, pausing only
to use knives and swords.

The
casualness reminded Yozef that this was a different world. That however
“civilized” Caedelli such as the Beynoms seemed, they were part of a harder
worldview than he knew on Earth. He understood all of the reasons for what he
could see being done and reminded himself not to judge too harshly. There were
still places and situations on Earth where it would have been the same.

Yozef
deliberately avoided looking at the Keelanders “cleaning up” and focused on
getting himself and the artillery down the alley toward the Narthani line.

Patmir
Tullok alternated scanning his front for threats to his command, watching his
subordinate commanders to see if they were doing their jobs or looking to him
with irritation because he missed something, and occasionally glancing to his
right, where the Eywellese horsemen screened his block’s flank. He noted fewer
of their clan allies than before. He had seen some of the Eywellese go charging
at the clan riders who had retreated out of sight to the south.

Aivacs
Zulfa sat satisfied. Not that the plan had gone according to their most
optimistic forecast, but nothing obviously bad had happened, and they had
clearly dealt a major blow to the Caedelli clans. For three-quarters of a mile
wide and a half-mile deep, the alcove formed by their redeployment, he saw the
ground littered with dead and wounded men and horses. His experienced eye
estimated more than a thousand clansmen down. That part of the action had been
successful enough. Now he waited to see what the islanders would do next. After
this debacle, might they pull back and wait for his next move? Would they concede
Moreland City and watch it burn? Would the battle dishearten enough of the
clans that their tenuous coalition broke apart and let his people conquer them
one at a time?

An
aide interrupted Zulfa’s thinking. “Brigadier! A message from Colonel Erdelin.”

Zulfa
snatched the sealed sheet from the aide’s hand, broke it open, and read,

To:
General Zulfa

From:
Colonel Erdelin

Estimate 2/3 to
3/4 of Eywellese left positions

to pursue clan
group withdrawing to the south.

No immediate
threat, but possible cannon and musket

fire to the south.
Request permission to shift one

block to support
flank.

“Narth damn the Eywellese!” Zulfa’s staff
members’ heads jerked toward their commander.

Zulfa
looked to his right. He could see no obvious threat through the smoke from the
Narthani cannon and muskets and the smoldering grass set afire by the islanders,
and he saw no reason not to agree to the repositioning. He turned to his
scribe. “Message to Colonel Erdelin. Permission granted to redeploy block.
Stretch other block spacing to cover gap. Keep me informed of any change.”

The
scribe wrote two copies on paper and handed the sheets on a support to Zulfa,
who signed both. The scribe placed one inside the shoulder bag he carried and
gave the other to the aide, who ran to pass it to a rider to gallop back to
Erdelin.

Denes
halted their advance behind a screen of trees just out of sight of the
remaining Eywellese, who were still unaware of the disaster befallen their
clansmen. Through foliage he saw Eywell banners at a cluster of riders to their
front, probably whoever was in charge when Brandor Eywell went off to the
afterlife. He estimated two hundred yards of open ground between himself and
the edge of the Eywell horsemen and perhaps four hundred yards to the end of
the Narthani infantry line. Not that he could see either the Narthani or all of
the Eywellese through the smoke. His role now was to wait until Luwis and
Gwillamer attacked from the east and Mittack from the west. He looked behind at
his 471 men. They’d suffered only 9 casualties during the ambush. Denes decided
on his own initiative that once they got within firing range of the Narthani,
they would stake out their horses and leave only one man in eight to tend them.
He figured if things went wrong, he would need every musket to extricate his
men.

Demian
Eywell was simultaneously proud that his father had left him in charge of five
hundred men to protect the Narthani line, angry he couldn’t take part in riding
down the Keelan hetman, and hoping his father returned before he had to make
any major decisions. That hope vanished when he saw a mass of Keelan and
Gwillaer clansmen galloping straight at his position.

He
was smart enough not to go charging directly at the attackers and lose supporting
fire from the Narthani block to his left, but suddenly shouts came from behind
him. He stood in his saddle to look to the rear and froze for several moments,
as his mind took in riders led by Mittack and Keelan banners. Uncertain what to
do, he sat on his saddle as the seconds ticked off, his mind a whirlpool of
conflicting and confused options. Thus, he did the worst thing possible.
Nothing.

Subcommanders
screamed at him for orders, and when none came, they acted independently, with some
charging the Keelanders to their front, others wheeling to face the new threat,
and a hundred or more still milling around, waiting for Demian’s orders.
Outnumbered badly on all fronts, they were overwhelmed. The Eywellese fought
bravely but failed in their primary mission. In less than seven minutes, the
Narthani flank was completely exposed.

Patmir
Tullok intuited the problem as soon as he saw the melee of horsemen to his
right. In response, he ordered one rank of pikes and one of muskets to face
right, even though he couldn’t identify what was happening through the smoke
and chaos. One islander looked like any other to him, and all he saw was
unidentified horsemen. He also did the right thing by sending a message to the
right wing commander, Colonel Memas Erdelin, that his flank was threatened. He
did everything right, not that it ultimately saved him or his men.

Erdelin
got the messages from Tullok and Zulfa within seconds of each other. He
immediately sent orders for the former reserve block to move from their
position as part of the arc of the Narthani trap back and to the south to
support the right flank.

The
remaining Eywellese screening the Narthani right were pushed west and away from
the now exposed flank. Denes gave the order committing his men to move toward
the Narthani infantry block. Their mounted clansmen either pursued the
Eywellese or moved aside, following orders not to attempt a direct horse assault
on the Narthani infantry. Denes’s dragoons weren’t as disciplined as the Narthani
infantry, but in five groups, each under a leader who tried to maintain a
degree of order, they moved quickly toward where the Narthani block was
supposed to be. It was a chaotic order of battle but the best they could do.
The five groups moved abreast forward with the three artillery pieces following
in a central position, and the extra men with cannon experience followed the
artillery. There was no reserve. This was an all-or-nothing throw of the dice.

They
trotted 250 yards before making out the first vague figures through the smoke.
Occasional Eywellese riders retreating from either the north or the south
engagements sporadically appeared. Many rode on, ignoring the Keelanders on foot.
Some Eywellese stopped and attacked, to be cut down by musket fire. Other Eywellese
saw Denes’s dragoons, recognized who they were, and rode off, whether to warn
or escape was unknown.

At
two hundred yards from the Narthani, Denes signaled to dismount, the horses
were led to the rear, and the dragoons and the artillery formed up to face the
flank of the Narthani infantry block and moved forward.

Patmir
Tullok was alerted to something happening by the sporadic musket fire to their
right and then the first outlines of men on foot through the smoke. Since there
weren’t supposed to be any Narthani infantry to his right, he hesitated for
another minute until the figures became more distinct and then ordered the rank
of musket men to open fire and start bringing the other ranks to face the new
threat.

Eleven
Keelanders fell to the first Narthani musket volley. That it wasn’t more was
due to smoke-obscured vision, the distance being at the limit of effective
musket range, and disorder in the Narthani ranks. The Keelanders kept moving,
and each man began firing independently. If it didn’t have the shock impact of
coordinated volleys, the number of muskets compensated. Almost four hundred
Caedelli muskets fired into the compact Narthani formation. More than eighty
Narthani were hit, inflicting moderate wounds to fatalities. The solid ranks of
pike and musket men facing the Keelanders suddenly had gaps, with standing men
separated by dead and wounded.

While
the surviving Narthani musket men reloaded and the other ranks attempted to
swing into position to fire, the three Keelan artillery pieces rolled into line,
all pointing to the center of the Narthani formation. As soon as each piece was
ready, it began firing its three barrels. It took twenty seconds to fire all
nine barrels, resulting in hundreds more musket balls scything into the Narthani.
Many balls impacted the ground before reaching the Narthani or went over their
heads. A quarter of the balls found human flesh.

Yozef
had followed his carriage crews, offering no advice or leadership. They’d been
drilled enough not to need his help. He also wasn’t eager to be at the
forefront but was startled when he thought rockets arced over toward the
Narthani infantry. As his eye followed one trail of smoke, he realized they
were crossbow quarrels. The three crews were fifty yards behind and began firing
as soon as they set up their carriages. He hadn’t expected they would get this
far, so he hadn’t given the crossbow crews instructions on what to do after the
ambush.

Two
quarrels flew over the Narthani, but one landed within the block, scattering bodies.
The Keelanders stopped and poured independent fire into the Narthani, the
swivel carriages firing as fast as the outer two barrels were reloaded, and
quarrels impacting in and around the disintegrating Narthani block. By the time
the swivels fired for the third time, there were barely 150 of the original 500
Narthani still standing. Not among them was Patmir Tullok, who, despite his
inexperience, had done everything right but now lay lifeless after any one of
four Keelan balls killed him.