by Kal Spriggs
“Excellent,” Christoffer said with more enthusiasm than he really felt. In truth, approving in general of the collection of men sworn to their odd oaths was a far different thing from trying to work in concert with them. Just managing the logistics of two hundred horses on three transport ships had been problem enough.
Coordinating them in synch with his Marines as they marched on the enemy was something else entirely. “Please tell Knight Captain Harald that my Marines will march soon.”
The knight wheeled away, banners and ribbons streaming behind as he rode away. Christoffer restrained any sarcastic comment, well aware that most of the armsmen who guarded him now had once served in the Order.
He couldn’t help but wonder how effective the knights would be in a full scale battle.
We shall see soon enough, Christoffer thought. His blue eyes peered south. A battle awaited soon enough.
***
Chapter XX
Captain Aerion Swordbreaker
North Hills Village, Duchy of Masov
Twenty-ninth of Inkar, Cycle 1000 Post Sundering
Aerion gritted his teeth as he looked over towards Earl Joris's units. The pompous ass had seemed quite pleased at the outcome of the meeting. Aerion still couldn't believe how arrogant the man was.
He shrugged his shoulders uneasily as he looked over his own company. Ghost Company stood ready, yet they didn't feel as solid as he might have hoped. Some of that, he knew, was because they missed Walker. For that matter, Aerion missed him too. Not far away from the company stood Lady Katarina's personal guard. Most of the familiar faces were gone, now, either sent down to other units and replaced by armsmen or killed in the kidnapping attempt. Only Quinn and Nakkiki and the shrouded wizard were familiar, and even then, they stood on the outside of the armsman cluster.
Aerion turned to his new First Sergeant, “I'm going to move to where the messengers come in, I'll be back if anything changes.”
He spared a look for Lord Hector's army as he walked towards the cluster of officers and noblemen near Katarina. The mercenaries and soldiers under the Usurper had gathered in orderly ranks. They had formed up behind some old farm field walls, on slight rise, which would provide them some cover from Samen's archers. Not that Aerion worried much about it, he knew it would take more than a low rise and a few fieldstones piled up to change how this fight would go.
Hector's men had better weapons and armor, but Katarina's army had plenty of reason to fight, while many of Hector's men were mercenaries. They had every reason to preserve their lives and surrender or flee.
Aerion came up on the outer ring of Lady Katarina's guards and Nakkiki waved him through with a broad grin. One of the new armsmen scowled, “You need to check him...”
Quinn spoke up, “Right... Nakkiki, are you sure that's Aerion Swordbreaker and not another one-eyed, six foot six warrior in scale mail, with a unique shield?”
Nakkiki held up a hand to stop Aerion and cocked his big head. He looked over at the armsman who had spoken up, “I not sure. Enemy spies very clever.” Nakkiki looked back at Aerion and gave a broad smile, “Swordbreaker get very angry to see you stole his armor and shield.”
“Thanks,” Aerion said with a smile.
The young armsman muttered something to himself and Aerion continued past.
“...we've identified the banners for the Flamebrands and another company of heavy cavalry at the enemy's right center, along with a company of Hector's house troops positioned to move and block behind them,” Gerlin said. “With how he has Covle deployed, if Earl Joris's people get too far ahead, she'll be able to hit them hard.”
Lady Katarina nodded and then called forward one of her runners. “Tell Earl Joris to use caution when he advances. Let him know about the Flamebrands.” The young messenger nodded and then raced off. Katarina looked at Gerlin, “What else?”
“Weather should be clear all day,” Gerlin said with a nod at Cederic. “Good for our archers. Hector has a mix of foot and horse skirmishers on his left flank, but I think my scouts and skirmishers can keep them busy.”
“All units have reported in ready, my Lady,” Ferrakan rasped.
Katarina's gaze swept the group and Aerion felt her eyes settle on him. There was worry in her blue eyes. Worry about her army, her friends... and worry specifically about him. Just at that moment Aerion ached with the urge to take her in his arms and comfort her.
Just then, Lord Garrel stepped forward, “We'll destroy the enemy, my Lady.”
Katarina almost seemed to flinch at the young man's intensity. Earl Joris had left his surviving son and his company in the reserve, a clear sign that he not only didn't trust Lord Garrel's combat skills, but that he wasn't confident of the young man's ability to command his late son's company.
While Aerion had found little to actively dislike about the other young man, it was clear as day he wasn't a warrior. The way that Garrel seemed determined to avenge his older brother was understandable, but Aerion doubted the scholar would survive an encounter with Covle Darkbit.
Lady Katarina nodded at Ferrakan, “Signal the advance.”
***
Earl Joris of Olsztyn
Earl Joris patted his mount's neck as he surveyed his formations. His unit of infantry stood well ahead of his two companies of cavalry. The gap gave his cavalry proper space to gain speed for a good charge. He smirked as he thought of the mercenary rabble breaking, only to be run down by his cavalry. Earl Joris fondled the hilt of his family blade, carried for thirty nine generations by the Lords of Olsztyn. He had never had a chance to put it to proper use, though the couple times he’d used it against upstart peasants it had worked well enough, though never with the fabled powers of the old stories. It doesn’t even respond to me as it did in my father’s hands, a quiet voice reminded him. It had been a private shame that he had long hoped to fix with a proper fight, to prove himself worthy of the blade.
He shook that bitter thought off and looked around at the formation he commanded. Down the way, the other companies of lesser houses had assembled. While they were notionally his allies, Lord Otylyk and Lady Paulina were neither one of them his equal. For that matter, he did not consider them anything besides expendable. Both young nobles came from younger family lines, their lands granted to their common-born ancestors for services to the old Dukes of Masov. They didn’t have any legacy, any pedigree better than that of the rabble they fought. For that matter, “Lady” Paulina had the arrogance to insist upon holding her own lands and she had thus far rejected any of his offers to share his bed. As if she’s good for much more than providing comfort and producing heirs, he thought with dismissal. With her bloodline, he wouldn’t contaminate his own bloodline, so she wasn’t even good for marrying off to one of his nephews or cousins.
Earl Joris had talked both of his allies into positioning themselves in the front and center of the line. That way both houses would be more likely to take the brunt of the casualties. While Earl Joris considered his own infantry replaceable, he would much rather someone else have to do the replacing.
He'd received Katarina's warning, but he had privately dismissed it and he hadn't bothered to pass it along. Earl Joris knew that whatever Duke Hector's plan was with the mercenary woman and her cavalry, they would not be nearly so effective against his house levy. The Flamebrands were mercenaries, led by a woman! The very thought that they would be a danger to two crack companies of his heavy cavalry, led by noblemen made him snort with amusement.
Certainly she might be effective against Lord Otylyk and Lady Paulina, but that was why they had the center. And since they had wanted to earn some glory for themselves...
“Messenger!” Earl Joris barked, “Tell Lord Otylyk and Lady Paulina that I'll race them to take Covle Darkbit's head!”
***
Covle Darkbit
Covle stared across the battlefield with narrow, hate-filled eyes. Seeing his father's banner was in some ways a good thing. He felt more than a little pleas
ure in the fact that his father would not survive the day. On the other hand, it was a bit inconvenient.
“Tell Captain Maldive to adjust his formation forward,” Covle grunted. He looked up at the sun, there wasn't the slightest bit of overcast yet this morning. “Order Captain Assal to bring his company back.”
As his men rushed out to pass the orders along, Covle watched the flank shift. He smiled slightly as it did so. Ostensibly it looked as if he had repositioned his companies better to receive the attack by his father's forces. In fact, they would do for that purpose. It would cause the enemy to turn slightly, which would give the Flamebrands an open flank to charge against.
Not that I'm doing her any favors, Covle smirked.
He turned and looked at the North Hills. A weathered and ancient set of hills, they weren't much of an obstacle. Just a series of folds filled with scrubby oak and sheep herders. If one knew where to look, one could just make out the distant spire of North Hills Tower, where some of Longhaven's Coastal Watch stood guard.
With his formation's new alignment, that tower would be at their backs. Covle smiled as the final groups of men fell into place. He turned and walked towards his horse. “I'm going to check positions,” he called over his shoulder at one of the mercenary officers. “I'll be back.”
***
Earl Joris of Olsztyn
Earl Joris sneered as Lord Otylyk's battered company stumbled back from the fight, half of them or more dead. They were spoiling his cavalry's charge and he shouted at them to get out of his way. The panicked, stunned men simply continued to blunder down the field and Earl Joris shook his head. “Signal to prepare the charge.”
“My Lord,” Captain Wulk asked, “what about the men in the way?”
Earl Joris waved a hand, “Run them down.”
Captain Wulk swallowed nervously, “What if Lord Otylyk protests?”
“He's either dead or fleeing,” Earl Joris snapped. “Now signal the charge or I'll be dragging you behind my horse, do you understand, Captain?”
“Yes, sir!” Captain Wulk snapped. A moment later the trumpet sounded and Earl Joris and his two companies thundered forward.
The fleeing infantry before him stumbled to a halt and as he rode closer, he made out panicked faces and wide eyes. Joris didn't bother to turn his mount to avoid any of them, he simply rode straight forward and as they tried to flee, he rode them down.
He spat as his horse rode down a man who'd dropped to his knees, pleading. There was a flash of red as his mount’s hoves struck the man and a shrill scream as the coward died. Earl Joris drew his sword. “Forward!” He called out.
Ahead of him, his company of infantry were locked in with some of Hector's mercenaries in yellow and black. At the center, Earl Joris saw a wide gap, left from where Lord Otylyk's men had broken, mercenaries beginning to spill through the gap. Surprisingly, Lady Paulina’s forces hard held, though they were out of his way so he paid them no mind.
He judged the distance and then smiled broadly, “Sound the charge!”
His trumpeteer began to sound the charge and his two companies moved first to a trot and then into a gallop. Earl Joris waved his sword broadly and activated the runes on his family blade. It was something that he was loathe to do, since he had jealously guarded the energy within, but he would be able to recharge it after the battle, he knew.
Despite his eagerness to get into the fight, he allowed others to overtake his charge, reining in his mount just enough that the younger, more eager noblemen of his company would strike the armed mercenaries first.
The discordant impact sounded like nothing else in the world and Earl Joris flinched back from the noise. Hundreds of pounds of meat in horse and man collided and men exploded back from the collision, knocking down their fellows or simply rode down without the chance to even scream.
One of Hector's mercenaries rose before him and Joris lashed out with his family blade. The sword cleaved through blocking shield, arm, helmet and skull with ease and blood and brains exploded outwards. Earl Joris didn't slow, swinging an attack at the next man and then the next.
He let out a mad laugh as mercenaries began to back up, some of them fighting to get out of his way. He would show these common-born scum that he was their superior in every way, in the best way he knew: he would kill them all.
Yet his head whipped around as he heard panicked shouts. They didn't come from ahead... they came from the side.
He looked over and saw that his company of infantry had simply disappeared. Two companies of cavalry, led by a banner with a stylized flame, had driven them down and then slammed into the flank of his company.
Panic went up from that side, a panic that spread faster than he would have thought possible. The Flamebrands weren't men, they were a well-cared-for killing blade, that swept through his formation, leaving blood and death in their wake. Lesser nobles who he had known for cycles, men of good birth and quality skills sawed their horses around and cast away weapons and shields in an attempt to escape.
“Rally!” Captain Wulk shouted, “Rally to me!”
Earl Joris felt a bit of consternation that it was Captain Wulk who managed to assemble some kind of defense. That was more properly his duty. Yet Joris felt too stunned to do more than watch as a dozen of his cavalry tried to hold the line against the entire mercenary company.
Then he saw Kerrel Flamehair. Earl Joris's eyes widened as the woman simply cut her way through everything and struck Captain Wulk down with a single blow.
“Fall back! Fall Back!” A shrill voice screamed. Earl Joris didn't recognize his own voice as he panicked and ripped his horse's head around. As his horse bolted away from Hector's mercenaries, Earl Joris lost all thought of honor, duty, or his lineage. All he cared about was escape.
He didn't even realize he had thrown away his precious family blade.
***
Captain Aerion Swordbreaker
“Milady!” One of the mounted messengers pulled his winded horse to an abrupt halt at the edge of the protective formation. “Hector's mercenaries have assaulted the left flank with a large force of cavalry! They cannot hold!”
“I’ll go, Lady Katrina!” Garrel said, he spun to his guard captain and began to call out orders.
Aerion’s eyes met those of Katrina. In an instant, he saw their opportunity. Garrel, though enthusiastic, had never participated in the heat of battle. Holding a crumbling flank was just the crucible that would prove his undoing. Should he die, then Katrina would no longer be bound by her father’s arranged betrothal. Should he break and flee, his family’s disgrace would insure he’d prove no proper match to the Duchess.
And in his inexperienced enthusiasm to prove himself, he provided Aerion and Katrina with a way they could be together. He practically removed himself as an obstacle. There could be no rumors, no questioning of Katrina’s intentions… or his own.
Aerion’s eyes met those of Katrina. He saw in her blue eyes the same thoughts, the same realizations. In a heartbeat, he knew she would let this young fool kill himself if it meant they’d be together.
“No,” Aerion said, his voice cut through the young nobleman’s eager orders. “Let me go, milady. You’ll need Lord Garrel and his forces as an additional reserve.”
He turned his face away from the sudden shock and hurt on Katrina’s face. He knew better. Though they might make the choice now, in the heat of the moment… Katrina would never want the boy’s blood on her hands. And more, Aerion didn’t want that kind of curse on her head. She needed the alliances Garrel’s father would bring. Garrel himself would make a far better husband to the Duchess than an ignorant peasant.
“Let me take Ghost Company, milady. We’ll hold the line,” Aerion said. He heard First Sergeant Gorich start to shout harsh commands to the others behind him.
“Are you sure, Aerion?” The pain in Katrina’s voice forced him to meet her gaze once more. Aerion saw Bulmor nod over her shoulder. That single gesture of respect meant more to Aeri
on than he could have said in that moment. The Ducal Guard understood and moreover agreed with the decision.
Aerion nodded back, “It must be me.”
Katrina closed her eyes, “Go then. Good fortune.”
“I’ll hold until the High King comes,” Aerion said.
***
Lady Katarina Emberhill
The flank was not the only place in trouble. Samen's archers had done their work, but Hector had reinforced his center with his best infantry. The fighting at the center had become a mass of soldiers, packed too tight to swing weapons. Here and there a man fell, only to be crushed by the feet of his comrades.
Across the field, she saw Hector's personal banner, the black hawk on a yellow field. She thought she saw a flash as the runes on the Ducal Blade activated. “I need to get there,” Katarina snapped. If she could kill Hector, she could break his army and end this.
Ferrakan spat to the ground, “You can't take him.”
“Maybe not, but what about you?” Katarina snapped.
Farrakan gave a shrug, “I'd just shoot him at range if it were me. But maybe we can bring him down without wasting too many more lives.” He signalled her escort and the armsmen and others started forward.
The battlefield was even more hellish as she walked through it. Wounded and dying soldiers lay everywhere, some trampled into the mud, others dragged clear by their comrades, but abandoned as the lines had moved past.
Katarina flinched as a crossbow bolt buzzed past. “Missed you by a mile,” Ferrakan rasped. He moved with viper speed and smacked another bolt out of the air with his shield. “That one wouldn't have.”
The armsmen closed ranks and they forced their way through the chaos. Nakkiki moved to the front and the ranks of soldiers parted around him like a ship's bow cutting its way through the ocean. The big man's swift pace brought them rapidly to the front... and the chaos grew worse.
