To Be A Maestro (The Maestro Chronicles) (24 page)

It had taken longer to gather the rider-less horses and frightened teams than it did to kill all of the Pentrosans. Still, he was pleased with the outcome. In just two encounters they had taken twenty food wagons, sixty-three horses, and deprived the enemy of six catapults. When Clipper and Dasher teams returned he called out, “Move north out of sight of these bodies. We don’t want to spoil the surprise for our guests.”

They rode until the aftermath of the last skirmish was out of sight and then hid amongst the trees.

“How long do we have before the next train arrives?” Kater’s deep voice carried from his point of concealment.

Tobin’s clean-shaven bald head, he must have lost his helmet, and half his horse came into view as he peaked around the trunk of a stout pine. “They will be here in half a mark, seeing as they had to stop to relieve themselves,” he spoke authoritatively to his younger brother, and then added, “Really, Kater, how should I know?”

Jacob made a slashing gesture with his right hand, meaning, cut the talk, and the guilty parties grew silent. Echo returned and perched next to him, signaling the approach of another wagon train. A short time passed and the escorts came into view. Hornets swarmed in to pester the riders while Twi, Wind, and Dusk let out their mighty roars. Horses reared up on their hind legs and the men, those who had not been thrown to the ground, were too busy trying to bring their mounts under control to even think about their swords or crossbows. Jacob signaled the attack and charged out of concealment on the horse he decided to name, Stealer. Anchor team charged out with him and they sent volley after volley of light lances at the Pentrosans, while trying very hard not to hit any of the horses. This
one turned out to be the largest train so far with four hundred defenders, forty supply wagons, and fourteen catapults.

Jacob aimed his dagger at the man jockeying towards him through the trees and touched the ruby. A blue lance of light shot out, punched through the horseman, and into the fellow coming up behind him. All around Pentrosans were screaming and dying as lances they could not see slew them and beasts sprang from concealment, snatching men from their saddles, and the
n pulled them to their deaths.

Kater leaped from his horse, sword in hand, and onto a wagon carrying pitch. He landed between two men and stabbed the driver through the neck. The other fellow flamed a torch and tossed it at the barrels. Fire exploded, each container blew apart, and fiery tongues instantly enveloped the entire wagon. Kater, fully engulfed, screamed and jumped off along with the burning fire-starter
.

The battle raged on and not a moment could be spared to check on Kater, who slipped into the woods. A Sutton Guardsman launched a bolt and Jacob managed to get his left arm up in time to bat the projectile aside and send a lance of light into and out the other side of the man’s neck. Little time could be spared in rejoicing over a single victory. Jacob simply aimed and launched lances as quickly as he could. The fight took so long, another train arrived and two hundred additional defenders raced to join the struggle. He and his squad sent lance after lance into the horsemen as they weaved through the trees. The Pentrosans’ otherwise coordinated charge was hampered by the many trunks they had to avoid, which provi
ded time enough to aim at them.

The range of a lance of light seemed to have no limit. Pretty much whatever Jacob could see, he could hit, and did so to the best of his ability. Bolts and arrows, some of the cavalrymen in this group had short bows, sailed through the air, some sinking into trees, and some tearing holes in the wool. Jacob looked down in disgust at the slashes, rips, and punctures in his coat. He raised his dagger and an arrow flew right up his sleeve. The minor irr
itation did not stop him from touching the ruby but it did cause him to miss his shot, and it was blasted inconvenient to stop and remove the shaft. By then the shooter was nearly upon him, grinning with the anticipation of victory, when Carn rode up from behind a tree and stabbed the Pentrosan in the neck with the dagger. It was the first time Jacob had seen anyone use the new weapon in such a mundane fashion, but it worked! The Sentinel’s wife frowned in disapproval.

The fight had taken three quarters of a mark and rounding up hundreds of horses and scores of wagons took nearly two full marks.
Each Sentinel had rips in their uniforms and only one person hurt. Tobin rode up leading a horse with Kater moaning on its back. What remained of the wounded Sentinel’s uniform was black and barely covered him decently and he clearly could not grasp the reigns. The shield amulet protected most of him, yet not completely, after all he had been totally engulfed in flames.

“How badly hurt is he?” Jacob asked as the two men came near and the bald Sentinel drew reign, bringing both horses to a stop.

Tobin glanced at Kater before answering. “His fingertips have been burned to the bone, enough of the heat went up into his helmet to damage his ears, and his tongue is badly burned. I suppose with all of the screaming, the flames entered his mouth and seared whatever it could reach. I imagine the pain is awful but he will live. Hopefully, Sir Daniel will be able fix him up.”

Kater opened his eyes and they were both seared beyond usage. He had been injured in all of the vulnerable points, a lesson each Sentinel needed to take to heart. Jacob could do nothing for the man except wrap his wounds and find him a pair of pants from one of the fallen soldiers. “Tobin, take Kater to Breaker team, they can look after him while we prepare for the next train.”

“It will be as you say, Sergeant,” Tobin replied and started off, leading the other horse by the reigns while Kater continued to moan.

Jana turned to her husband. “I told you these shields cannot save us from everything the enemy could throw at us. Kater took an unnecessary risk and look what it got him, deaf, blind, and dumb. He could have holed both men using his daggerlance. But no, he wanted to get up close and physical.”

“She makes a good point,” Jacob spoke up. “We cannot afford to get up close and physical with each man. We must kill as many as we can, quickly and before they get close enough for a one on one encounter. We have the better weapons and defense, but that does not mean we can’t be swarmed under by their vastly superior numbers.”

Horse lines and wagon teams were tied together and slowly led single file between the trees, heading several spans to the west where Breaker team would watch the spoils. Jacob led the rest of his squad north to the next staging area.

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Lieutenant Runyan Lymin sat saddle on a hilltop looking down at a solid stone wall that stretched at least a span wide, a wall that should not be here. In fact, nothing should be here. This should have been a straight march south to
Fort Casum and an easy victory before awaiting further orders from the General. What chance did men behind log walls have against flaming balls of pitch? They either come out and die in battle or stay inside and roast to death. The scene before him was far from expected.

Ducaunan cavalrymen lining the thirty cubit high structure provided a deadly deterrent to a full on charge. Reports from positions around the wall indicated the enemy had more than a legion inside, which meant this campaign could take far longer than anticipated. Taking siege of the massive holding has spread the assault force thin and thanks to the trees within, Runyan could not even see what the wall was protecting.

Accomplished Nettle’s report, sent by his zombie messenger, had made no mention of this structure or the arrival of the Northwestern Legion, only that the Aakacarns of Aakadon had departed. That much seemed to be accurate and it proved what Runyan had been saying to his superiors all along, “Aakacarns only see other Aakacarns as a threat and ignore us as if we were nothing more than gnats to be brushed away.”

His previous encounter with the Accomplisheds of Aakadon showed their clear contempt for non-Aakacarns in statements such as
, “Like a single drop of rain trying to put out a forest fire, their lives were the ones extinguished, quickly and with about as much affect on the outcome.” The young Accomplished of the Eagle Guild had been speaking of Pentrosan lives. The words haunted Runyan and were seared into his brain. All of the sun-blasted Melody Wielders were the same, no matter the guild, and the puny lives of ordinary folk did not concern them.

Marks had gone by since he arrived with Colonel Fyborn along with two full legions. The commander did not share his misgivings with subordinates, and why should he? Even so, this development clearly required a change in tactics. A constant buzzing sound came from the trees behind and added to the uneasiness. The first catapult crew should have been here by now. Runyan shook his head in disgust. All of the catapult crews should have been here by now. What was keeping them?

“I know the Cubs are unseasoned, but surely they can escort supply trains without getting lost,” the Colonel remarked. His left eyebrow twitched; an indication of his growing irritation.

Runyan stared straight ahead while answering, “No one could get lost when all they have to do is know what direction is south. Something is holding them up.”

Fyborn nodded his head. “Lieutenant Howcum, take your squads north, find out what is keeping my catapults from being where they should be, and send a messenger back with a very good reason for this delay or there will be consequences.”

Reen’s eyebrows drew down in contempt, not for his commanding officer, Runyan was sure, but for the apparent incompetence of the escorts. “It will be as you say, Colonel,” he replied with a salute and then signaled his men and they headed north.

Runyan knew Reen Howcum to be a good officer and had complete confidence the man would set things in order. The concern now was the men on the wall above the north gate. He peered through his opticals. Most of them were wearing the green with gold trim uniforms of the Ducaunan Royal Cavalry, most but not all, for among the defenders stood soldiers in sky blue uniforms. Runyan did not recognize whose men they might be or the falcon clutching a lighting bolt symbol on the gates. He had been present when the officers of the Royal Pentrosan Cavalry had been questioned after regaining consciousness. Neither they nor their subordinates had any memory of the battle with the Aakacarns that had laid them low. It was those sun-blasted poppy plants. Not a single survivor had a firm recollection of events beyond arriving and then waking up. Could the men of this holding have been involved?

A sharp sting on the neck caught his attention. He grumbled and smacked at the offender that struck the vulnerable spot between his chain mail and helmet. His quick reflexes were not fast enough to squash the sun-blasted insect. Up and down the line men were slapping at themselves, even the Colonel. Horses kicked as wasps stung their rumps and whatever other fleshly parts underneath they could reach. Runyan flew up, forward, and out of his saddle as Stomper, his mount, suddenly bucked. He hit the ground and the momentum sent him rolling down the hill. All around him men were tumbling, having been thrown by their steeds. Through no small effort he managed to angle to the right, flip onto his back, and use his legs to bring himself to a stop half way down the hill.

An arrow landed in the ground between his legs, missing his privates by a finger length. The sky was filled with arrows arching up and angling down. He turned and began scrambling up the hill, zigzagging in an effort to avoid the deadly shafts raining down. Men fell with arrows in their legs, shoulders, and necks. Sergeant Reiden, just ahead, caught a shaft in his right thigh and fell. Corporal Taza grabbed him and they started up as Runyan passed them by. He could no longer see the forces arrayed on the hilltop, other than the dead.

Runyan reached the top, cursing himself and the Colonel for not anticipating those longbows, they were not standard issue. Hundreds were dead, including Fyborn. The commander’s face and particularly his neck had swollen, closing his throat, and choking the life out of him. Turns out he was deathly allergic to wasp stings. The main force had pulled back to the northern slope to escape the shafts and
bulky Major Lopin sat his horse while organizing the new position. He and everyone else were slapping at wasps. Runyan wondered if this same situation was playing out all around the outskirts of the wall. By his estimate, hundreds of men just died, and this siege was far from over. Taza and Reiden did not top the hill, few men did. Runyan slapped at a wasp and hoped this campaign ended soon, yet knew such was unlikely. General Kall will have their hides if they retreat before ordered to do so.

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Lieutenant Reen Howcum eyed the surrounding woods suspiciously while guiding, Vengeance, his well trained warhorse to the north, along with his five squads. All one hundred men were highly skilled fighters, well seasoned, and ready for action on the instant. Each man wore chain mail, a black shield strapped to his left arm, a sword sheathed at his belt, and a battle ax holstered beside his saddle. The Pentrosan Royal Cavalry based out of Los Collins had been referred to by him and his cohorts as being cubs, after having given them the gray with black trim uniforms to wear rather than their traditional browns, all to make the Ducaunans believe they faced both legions of the Sutton Guard. The cubs were relatively inexperienced, not nearly as well trained, yet Reen wondered how even they could manage to get lost.

Sergeant Bleecher cleared his throat while peering into the trees. “I can imagine conscripts getting lost, but not their officers.”