Chapter 24
"My studies and hobbies are frequently interrupted with thoughts of my eldest brother, Aidan. I wonder if he will ever return to us. More than that, I wonder if he will ever forgive us."
- Katisha Franklin, 32 Joon, 1788 AC
The Knights reached the foot of the hill, and Sergeants ordered their Archers to loose a volley into the cloud of horses, men, and steel. The first wave of arrows arched overhead and fell straight into the charging Cavalry. Aidan saw at least two men fall, but was uncertain whether they suffered from arrows that somehow found one of the few spaces on Kannitick Armor that was vulnerable to flighted arrows, or were simply clumsy. Another volley, this time no one fell, though a few horses cried out in panic. The fletched, steel-headed arrows were unable to pierce even the unpowered plate worn by the horses, but harassing an enemy was always a worthwhile endeavor. Finally they came within musket range, and he gave Ygretta the order to have them fire only once into the Cavalry before the impetuous Knights reached the traps.
"Shouldn't we preserve ammunition?" she asked, without a trace of her usual irritation or sarcasm.
"It will be too suspicious if we don't act like we're trying to defend ourselves, they might get wise to the landscape. Have them lock shields as well."
She relayed the orders, and the Musketeers took position, peeking their barrels just over the valleys between their great round targes. At a single, shouted command from Ygretta, they fired as one, and the front rank of the charging Cavalry exploding in purple fire and clouds of dirt. The blast killed most of the horses in the front rank, but the second rank jumped over the thrashing animals, a few getting tripped up as well. Still they came.
The Musketeers stepped back, and the phalanx Spearmen took up their positions, their pole-axes and spears jutting out from atop the shield wall that stood fast as though to absorb the Cavalry charge. The oncoming Knights lowered their lances and split into three groups, two of their platoons charging for the middle and the other two trying for what looked like vulnerable targets on the wings. Just as I expected they would. Were the Tigers, Wolves, and Serpents a band of peasants, they would likely be ignored, but outlaws were fair game for anyone.
The traps laid for the enemy all seemed to spring at once, the Cavalry on the right falling through the false floor they'd lain over the pit that awaited them like a deep gaping mouth. Men and horse screamed together as they plummeted, and before the Knights charging the middle could react, they jumped over the chest-high palisade and into a deep trench of their own. Otherworldly noises escaped the lips of their mounts as they broke their legs and thrashed in pain. Any hope the initial chargers had of climbing out alive was dashed when their fellows leapt over the palisade and trampled them.
The remaining Knights circled around and rode back behind the line of armored Footmen who now approached with shields, spears, and muskets. Around half of the platoon who tried jumping the palisade lunged their mounts away before jumping into the trench of death that waited for them. The platoons on the flanks weren't so lucky, though. Aidan watched as the Musketeers near their position fired their second charge mercilessly into the mounts of those who avoided the pit, dagger-wielding bandits jumping upon those who survived the fall and giving them a quick, sharp death.
"That went well," Ygretta said, and even though her helm was closed Aidan was certain she was smiling. "Very well."
"Not well enough," Aidan sighed. While the majority of their Cavalry had been killed by excessive eagerness, the enemy still had around eighty heavy Horsemen they could use to flank them once they engaged their front. Their own Cavalry, far from equal, couldn't possibly counter that kind of punishment. "Still, it's a start."
"A bloody good start," Connel said, and Aidan was sure he was smiling, too. "Seems they weren't expecting us to be clever."
"Enemy muskets!" one of the platoon captains yelled, and the others followed suit. They erected their shield wall, and everyone squatted low behind those round interlinked targes. The Footmen had arrived at last, and Aidan ordered their Cavalry to fall back and find tree cover. He dismounted and gave Midnight a gentle slap on the rump, the Lieutenants doing likewise with their horses, who all trotted away in the same direction. In a proper battle, squires would tend to them, but this was anything but a proper battle.
The enemy Musketeers approached behind their shield wall, their muzzles pointing toward heaven and bobbing behind the great round shields. They took up position right behind the palisade, and the Infantry on either side worked their way through the maze of spikes that prevented Cavalry charging into the immediate left or right of the center. Using our own cover against us. They did this under a near-constant battering of arrows from Aidan's Archers, but again the arrows served only to annoy.
With a shout from the enemy line, their muskets peeked between the shields' junctions and blasted hard against the Redtails' own shield wall. The fire-hardened, leather-covered wooden shields had been wetted that morning to absorb some of the impact of a Plaz blast, but they had already begun to dry. They had been fortunate that Lord Kiefernwald did not spare the expense to provide muskets of his own. Their shields now erupted in purple fire with the Plaz blasts, and Aidan could distinctly hear shouts of panic coming from Soldiers who threw the flaming shields into the pit that now held so many of the enemy dead.
"Ygretta," Aidan said, willing his voice to stay measured and steady, "order the Musketeers to return fire, and quickly."
He gave her a moment to relay the order and watched as their own Plaz bounced harmlessly off of the enemy shields. They waited for the enemy to call a charge or grow relaxed, but they held firm. Already he could hear the clicks of musket breaches closing with fresh rounds inside, and he shouted himself for them to fire again.
"Call for a charge," he told Ygretta, then looked at Connel, who seemed eager to put his own plan into action. Now's the time. "Connel, tell your monkeys they may begin their work."
In the trees above them, covered in cloaks of woven leaves and their legs probably numb from hours of sitting in sling harnesses were about two dozen men in full Kannitick Armor. They each had a hardened leather pouch filled with various instruments of war like crossbows, collapsible javelins, and even regular Plaz muskets and pistols. Those pouches also contained a slingshot and three of the grenades which had been looted from the trap caravan.
Connel took a narrow horn from his pocket and blew it full force. It gave a whiny, high-pitched wail that was easy to distinguish above the blasts of Plaz and the screams of the dying. Aidan looked up to see several of the monkeys throw off their leaf cloaks, load their large, rounded slingshots and fling grenades deep behind the enemy line. Explosions erupted from behind their front ranks, who flinched right at the moment when the Musketeers were aiming for their second volley.
At least five ranks of the enemy were broken, the survivors crawling or limping desperately back while armored Arbalesters with humongous crossbows loaded with impossibly large elemental bolts took aim at Aidan's front ranks, who had once again broken to pursue the fleeing and wounded. He screamed for them to come back, but it was too late.
What was left of their shields after the punishment given them by the Musketeers erupted orange in hot liquid flame. The fire bolts, so feared even by those with the best made Kannitick Armor, sprayed through the shields, decimating their two front ranks. Deputy Meadows' army, however, was already marching down the hill, the elemental bolts merely a ploy to cover a retreat.
"Tend the wounded!" Aidan screamed, horrified by the smell of burnt flesh and the living nightmare that now surrounded him. A man writhed in pain as he shrieked at the sight of his burnt stub of an elbow. A woman held one of her eye sockets, futilely trying to stanch the blood that flowed out of it. Aidan looked to the trees to see that most of the monkeys had been likewise targeted by the orange fire that even now melted through the trunks to which their bodies were still attached.
Ygretta stumbled to him, and he feared she was
injured. "No, I'm fine. Explosions just made me a bit dizzy."
Charlene was nowhere to be found, which made him crazy with rage and impotence, but he had to do his duty and watch the enemy. His helm's HUD estimated seven hundred Soldiers, reforming ranks and preparing for what would surely be a final push. Aidan's shields were destroyed to the sliver, at least a fourth of his army was wounded beyond an ability to fight, and any advantage the tree-bound monkeys had given with their explosives and targeted assassinations had been lost with their lives. The only thing they had left was perhaps three double-rounds of Plaz per Musketeer, plus the fortitude of their melee fighters. And the Cavalry.
The palisades and stakes had also been immolated in the fiery discharge, and now there were no battlements to hide behind. He whistled for Midnight and called the Lieutenants to assemble around him. They each found their horse and came, their faceplates downcast and their faces surely long and grim. Charlene appeared at last from behind a nearby tree, her left arm bare and missing its gauntlet, her beautiful deep green velvet cloak now in tattered shreds around her shoulders. She opened her faceplate, ragged exhaustion painted on her face. She gave a weak half smile, and he lifted his faceplate to smile back.
"We can't keep this up," Rodrig said, and Aidan could not tell if he sighed or was panting from exhaustion.
"I agree," Connel said, looking at the ground. "I'm sorry, Sir Aidan."
"We're not dead yet," Aidan said, looking at each of them as he spoke. "I know that may seem a fool's comfort, but it's something. Meadows and Kiefernwald thought they would sweep us away with the paltry force of equal number, and we sent them running. It's no small thing."
"But they'll be returning," Rodrig said, "and any chance of victory we may have had is gone. I'm sorry, Sir Aidan, but it's gone."
"I ..." Aidan took a moment to find the right words. He laughed grimly, thanking his House gods that at least he would die fighting for his family. It was more than some could claim. "This is my fight. Any of you who want to leave, now is your last chance."
Charlene laughed, her voice ragged with exhaustion, as though he had just told the most terrific joke. "You think we can just leave? The Deputy is not likely to forget the time he fought the bandits of Graydon Forest to a near-stalemate. Mark me, Graydon's going to have more posses and patrols this summer than ants on the ground!"
"She's right," Connel agreed, adding glumly, "we either stand and die today or run and die tomorrow. I'd rather die like a Soldier than a deer."
"Agreed," Rodrig said, sounding weary beyond his years. "One way or another, this ends today."
"It has been an honor to fight with all of you." As Aidan spoke the words he saw movement from the corner of his eye. The Deputy's host had reformed and resumed their steady march up the hill, shields in front followed by ten ranks of foot Soldiers and Arbalesters, who, he was glad to see, had exchanged their elemental bolts for the steel variety. After them came the Cavalry, still around sixty strong, followed by the Musketeers whose meager two ranks brought up the rear of the army. In the distance, the Menchál horse Archers were retreating, likely paid half wages and dismissed.
The Deputy and his retainers walked about ten paces behind the rear, Meadows himself holding his House banner. It gave Aidan an idea, which he quickly relayed to Ygretta. She gave standing orders to the runners, who passed them to the Sergeants, and they quickly prepared a firing line of their Musketeers, who knelt on the ground and prepared to take aim. Aidan and his retainers and Lietuenants joined with the remaining thirty Cavalrymen they had at their disposal, and they trotted slowly around the battle line formed by the platoons. Behind the group, huddled together and shaking either with fear or as a result of their injuries, were the wounded and dead.
Aidan and his Cavalry took up position on the left flank, and he reloaded both of his pistols as they waited. The Deputy's army approached slow and steady, allowing caution to direct their course. Aidan smiled. Caution can be as dangerous as haste. He gripped the handle of his mace and thought of Nadya. She would have been proud to hear that he still heeded his father's wisdom even when things looked so bleak.
"Not yet." He could see from her posture that Ygretta was eager to charge in and flank the bastards, but timing was more important than bravery, precision more important than effort. If the opportunity he was looking for didn't reveal itself after all, then they would fight their way to his target and get as close as they could. Aidan felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see that it was Charlene. She pointed to where the Deputy had deployed his Cavalry, as Aidan predicted, to the right wing of the bandit army.
The Musketeers who had been ordered to the frontline were discharging their weapons as quickly as possible now that the shields of the enemy's front were within twenty paces. Each blast gave the heavy Infantry pause, and caused a hiccup in their formation, which Aidan was hoping would weaken their arrangement just enough to give the Redtail Soldiers the slightest advantage in the fight ahead. When the enemy heavy Cavalry was fully committed, now only thirty paces from the allied bandit groups on the right flank, they opened fire with their single-shot muskets and killed about twenty horses, but it wasn't enough. Aidan knew that within the next few moments he'd see them crash into the Tigers, Wolves, and Serpents and probably put them to flight within the space of an evening meal. But he looked to the back of the enemy formation and smiled. Isolated from the main battle and really only there to cover potential retreat were the group of twenty Musketeers. Behind them was the Deputy and his bodyguard.
"With me!" Aidan screamed, and his friends and all the Cavalry screamed with him. They let loose battle cries of inhuman savagery, as though they had all been transformed into the terrible monsters of nightmares and the tales of the old home long past. Aidan held his mace by the pommel, extending it as high as it would go straight up into the air and broke off from the main Cavalry charge. Rodrig, Connel, Charlene, Ygretta, and the other big lads who served as his bodyguards followed him while the other group continued charging right for the Musketeers.
Aidan almost laughed when the Deputy finally noticed him, glad again that his calculations had turned out correct. The fool was so busy zooming in on the crush and madness and bloody butchery of the front that he didn't even see their initial charge until they were ten paces from him. The Musketeers fired on the lighter Cavalry, but they were spread out cleverly enough that only five of them were hit while the twenty-five remaining punished the light-armored Shooters with spears and axes.
"For Barrowdown!" Aidan cried as his platoon smashed into the men who guarded the Deputy. Meadows himself drew his sword and looked ready to use it, and Aidan was eager to give him opportunity. One of the bodyguards was in his way, a long-armed fellow who made use of a cudgel and short sword. He parried Aidan's swings and jabbed at his neck and shoulder joints, each time narrowly missing the webbing that would be so easily pierced by the narrow-pointed short sword. Aidan tried to unhorse him with the mace a few times, but grew impatient and drew his pistol. The blast probably didn't kill the man, but it was enough to knock him to the ground. Aidan's second shot went straight into the head of the Deputy's horse, and the two tumbled entangled and thrashing to the ground.
Aidan leapt from Midnight's back toward the Deputy who appeared pinned beneath his dead horse. When he came within a few paces, mace drawn and ready, the Deputy sprang to life, drew his pistol and shot him square in the chest. Aidan was knocked to the ground by the Plaz and hit hard, losing his breath for a moment. He had kept hold of his mace, however, and he squeezed the hilt. It's almost over, one way or another.
He leapt to his feet to see one of the mounted bodyguards charging him. He parried the lowered spear and grabbed it near the enemy Soldier's hand. He placed his right foot on the enemy's foot in the stirrup and stood on it, wrapping his arm around the enemy's head and then jumping to the side of the confused and screaming warhorse. The two tumbled into the dirt and mud, and Aidan rolled away and stood, mace at the ready.
The Guard drew his longsword and held it by both the hilt and the blade. Aidan likewise grabbed his shorter mace by the head and leather wrapping so that it was as though he simply held a length of pipe by its ends. They circled each other, and around him Aidan heard the screams and explosions that assured him the battle was not yet over. He waited.
Finally his opponent moved first, holding the long blade like a spear at his side and jabbing it at Aidan's eye. With speed that comes only through instincts honed by years of practice, Aidan parried the jab and stepped in close, landing almost behind his opponent and placing the shaft of his mace against his gorget, pulling back with enough force to penetrate the Kannitick defenses and choke the enemy bodyguard. The man tried to jab him by thrusting his longsword back, but had nowhere near enough leverage to do any damage. As Aidan felt the life ebb from his enemy, he saw the Deputy aiming a pistol at Charlene's back while she grappled and gained an advantage over against another armored Guard.
Aidan threw the Guard he held in the deadly grasp of his mace's shaft and pulled his own pistol with his left hand and fired it, hitting the Deputy square in the head as his own pistol discharged into the air as he flailed. The shot didn't knock him over, so Aidan squeezed the trigger again, hitting him in the chest. He stumbled, but kept his feet.
Aidan dropped the pistol and drew the second. Again, two shots, direct hits, but still the man stubbornly refused to fall. Aidan smiled. I was hoping to settle this not with fire, but with steel. The Deputy drew a short sword and swung a large shield, only a little smaller than the frontline shields so commonly employed. They circled each other, the Deputy tapping his shield with his one-handed sword. Aidan held his mace with two hands, hoping his enemy would be convinced by his ruse.
The Deputy stabbed toward Aidan's middle. Aidan parried and gave a wide two-handed swing that slammed against his opponent's broad shield. The Deputy countered, swinging for Aidan's head, but Aidan let go of his mace's pommel and caught the blade with his armored hand. He swung his mace, hoping to strike at the head but again the shield obstructed him. So he let go of the blade and grabbed for the shield, pulling the Deputy's arm and hoping to gain position behind him as he'd done with the previous opponent. But the deputy was clever enough to let his shield go, and struck Aidan hard in the side.
Aidan's armor absorbed most of the blow, but the blade was narrow enough that he felt a slight pinch at the hit and grunted. The Deputy swung wildly and leapt back, once again putting distance between them. He grabbed near the tip of his own blade, and Aidan did likewise with his mace, this time grabbing just below its flanged head to allow for jabbing.
The Deputy suddenly let go of his blade and swung wildly for Aidan's side, an amateur blow that Aidan easily deflected and jabbed his mace's head for his enemy's face. He ducked with impossible speed and suddenly stepped boldly into Aidan's midsection, shouldering him to the ground and drawing a dagger from his hip. The knife came down nearly before Aidan recovered himself and let go of his mace's hilt. He grabbed the Deputy's wrist, and the point was stopped just a knuckle's length from the vulnerable plate glass of his armor's eye opening.
"This is pointless," the Deputy said, "you have lost. Even if you kill me, your forces are dead, and my Cavalry shall soon return to finish you. Yield!"
The Deputy put more weight on the dagger, moving it by half toward Aidan's eye. There was no time for thought. His instincts told him to drop his mace, so he did. He reached across his body to his own hip dagger, which he drew slowly as his enemy continued to press. He held it like a hammer, its point forward and searching for a space between plates where there was some give. Finally he found an area which bounced when he pressed with the blade's point and shoved it as hard as he could, straight up. The Deputy growled and jumped off, rolling away.
Aidan rolled away as well, leaping to his feat and holding his mace in front of him to hopefully allow him to catch his breath. Every muscle in his body felt as though it would leap out of his body. The Deputy reached to his side, where Aidan's dagger had stuck deep, blood trickling down its hilt and dripping on the ground. He grunted as he tore the dagger out and threw it at Aidan, but it went wide.
"Not good enough, boy," the Deputy said, holding his blade once again at both ends and charging. Aidan parried a jab and worked his mace so that it was within the Deputy's arms, hoping to use leverage to disarm his opponent. He twisted the mace's head toward the Deputy's hilt, but the man twisted and locked his elbow against Aidan's wrist. With a terrible force that Aidan was not balanced to resist, suddenly his mace flew from his hands and landed about twenty feet away. Aidan screamed.
The Deputy, no doubt expecting him to run toward his weapon, held his bleeding side and pointed his sword toward Aidan's eye, his arm fully extended to keep him from getting in close. He's hurt worse than he let on, press him! There was no hesitation, no holding back. He grabbed at the Deputy's sword, which made him pull it back. Then he ran full speed, parrying the blade with his gauntlet as his enemy tried to shove it into his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around his opponent's elbow, stepping in close so that their breastplates smacked into each other. The Deputy swung his blade by the wrist and smacked his back and shoulders, but the plate was more than sufficient for such weak slaps. Aidan rammed his forehead straight into his enemy's face with the force of a thousand horses' hooves, and the Deputy's faceplate dented slightly, and he moaned in pain.
The enemy brought up his empty hand and was grabbing at Aidan's head. Aidan thrust his hand to his opponent's wound and shoved in his thumb. The Deputy howled with a noise that sounded only remotely human, then crumpled to the ground. Aidan picked up the sword which he had dropped, and held its point against his enemy's eye slit, kneeling on his shoulder as the man writhed squirmed.
"Yield," Aidan said, every ounce of energy he possessed now resisting the savage within him that urged swift and ultimate justice. As tempting as revenge was, he still had one thought: ending the battle and saving the lives of his troops who still lived.
As if suddenly possessed by madness, the Deputy began laughing. Aidan had pictured this moment many times since he had returned, and this was not one of the reactions he expected. And something about the laugh sounded wrong.
"I yield," he said, and Aidan removed the sword from its threatening position, "you win, Sir Aidan."
Still he laughed, and Aidan was infuriated. "And just what in the hell is so funny?"
"Your victory is hollow," he said, reaching a hand to the side of his head and jabbing at a combination of switches that appeared invisible to anyone who didn't know where they were. His faceplate opened from the middle, the top plate protecting the forehead, eyes, and nose, and the bottom half guarding his mouth and chin. As it slowly opened, Aidan gasped as he saw the source of the man's humor. "We're both dead men."
The face revealed a young Saukasi man, Aidan guessed about twenty-three. His hair was blond and his face shaven. The raven-black hair and thin oiled chin-beard and slim mustache were nowhere to be seen.
Aidan's heart filled with icy despair as the truth displayed itself before his eyes. This is not the Deputy.