The initial shield wall at the front of their lines had been facing east toward the enemy’s advance. When the Olvioni formation split, half of their number stepped north while the other half went south. The final result was two separate rectangular formations with a wide alley between them. Along that alley shields that had been hidden now were raised.
The Greys, gleefully thinking that they had succeeded in breaking the ranks of the humans surged forth into the breach, growling and slavering in triumph. Once inside the opening they were set upon by pike and spear from defenders from either side of the newly-formed shield wall. The flood of Greys continued into the alley of shields by the hundreds. The ability to penetrate deep into what was an almost unbreakable barrier a moment beforehand was like an adrenaline rush to the grey-skinned troglodytes. They threw themselves at the shield walls to either side of the alley, determined to earn yet another divide of the human lines.
It was exactly at that moment that two thousand mounted cavalry came pounding through the other end of the breach. Having gathered speed from the gates of the city to the avenue of attack they lowered their lances and hit the Greys in the alley at top speed. At the front of the attack rode King Zander and his royal guard, all heavily armored and bearing lances. The spearhead of the cavalry attack now numbered fifty horses across. Behind them the rest of the cavalry attack formation thundered.
Some of the Greys that had happily scurried into the breach now saw and heard the approach of their doom. They turned and sought escape, running, instead, into a wall of their oncoming brothers. Denied a way out of the now-revealed trap, they could only shout, scream and cry as tons of metal and horseflesh plowed into them. Horses reared and whinnied, men shouted and invaders died. The first wave of riders skewered hundreds of Greys. The sounds of lances snapping was deafening. The long weapons were devastating to an enemy that could neither retreat or escape to either side. But they could usually only be used once. The sheer energy contained in a clash with the speed and weight of a mounted, armored warrior was enough to skewer two or three of the enemy on most of the weapons before the combined weight of the bodies grew too heavy. The splintered remains were then tossed aside and maces were drawn and employed to lethal effect.
Maces were the perfect weapon for a mounted attack. The weapons used by our horsemen were long-shafted for extra reach from horseback and had a weighted head that contained various kinds of protuberances, most of them dull. Long history and experience had shown the folly of employing spiked maces from horseback. The spikes were devastating on the first swing but too prone to embedding themselves inextricably into armor, clothing or flesh. A man on horseback was then left with the choice of casting his weapon aside or being torn from his mount. The maces used by Olvion’s cavalry were sufficiently deadly without any such drawbacks.
After sweeping aside the Greys that had flooded into the breach between our two separated formations, the king and others who had been at the vanguard of the attack now drove their mounts off to either side, cutting furrows into the Grey’s battle lines and opening up the front of the lines to the cavalry following behind them who still had yet to wet their lances. The tactic continued as a line of a hundred or more riders would smash into the enemy and then drive off to the sides, making room for yet another following lance attack.
With my above-average height I was able to see over the heads of my fellow warriors. The cavalry attack was breaking the Grey’s battle formations apart. As always, the cavalry was the best tool for fomenting confusion and fear among the enemy. It was doing its job well. I watched the enemy battle configuration being completely cut into two pieces. Groups of cavalry, supported by following infantry were now carving those two larger groups into smaller ones.
And the enemy advantage of numbers was now dropping as hundreds of the Greys were pierced by lance or shattered by mace.
From the city walls and the rear of the battle line we heard the trumpets sound again. I paused and held my breath. I counted the three musical notes sounding once, twice, three times. Then we all started sidestepping again, but this time it was back the way we had come on the first effort to open the breach in our lines. Now we moved back together, stomping on and stepping over the dead bodies of fallen Greys. In the space of ninety seconds our front line was now, once again, a single formidable wall of shields, pikes and spears.
I took a second to reflect that, no matter what happened today, the genius of Ruguer, the Warrior Commander and Sword of the King, would forever be sung whenever two or more warriors sat around the fire and passed the spirit skins. The maneuver of splitting one’s forces into two formations to make room for a surprise cavalry attack, then reforming, was unheard of until this day. The ability to judge what was reasonable to expect from his warriors and push that to the edges was what made great generals. Ruguer knew that his fighters were capable of great things and he exploited that.
Now our formations started to advance and the careful selection of the warriors making up the different lines of defense became clear. The larger and heavier warriors that had been in the front line now used their weight to push slowly forward. The taller warriors from the second line (now standing side-by-side with those of the first rank) were also pushing the shields forward but they were utilizing their long limbs to piston out spears and pikes over top of those shields. The enemy did their best to keep one eye on the cavalry and the other on the advancing shield wall but it was an impossible situation. Grey bodies fell before us in large numbers.
We were winning. I knew it. I briefly tried to connect to Tinker and tell her of our apparent success. I felt nothing. I did my best to bury my fears and join the battle. I was currently caught in the middle of the formation on the south side of the valley and was far from the action. I pushed and maneuvered myself around my fellows, making for the front of the line where I could be of help by throwing my weight and strength behind the shield wall.
We continued to move slowly forward. Greys that were caught between us and one of the several arms of cavalry were knocked to the dirt and either speared or simply stomped to death. We had reached the point where our first line had employed the trick of spiked shields and marched over it. The bodies of dead and still-dying Greys provided a gentle ramp over the spikes which we were too happy to utilize.
But all was not good. I was seeing horsemen pulled from the backs of their animals. Chains were swung by the beasts to trip the mounts and their riders, both of which were then set upon and butchered. It was here that I learned that horses could actually scream. It was a sound I would not soon be able to get out of my head.
And our shield wall which had held true for so long was now showing cracks. The Greys were getting desperate now and desperate creatures are the most dangerous. They were employing the tactic of throwing themselves at the shield wall in threes and fours, dragging the shields down with their weight. The ploy was working in many places and every breach opened up a small hole into which others streamed. Just as we had penetrated their lines so too were they penetrating ours. The formal maneuvers and formations were quickly disappearing. I was not surprised. They had already lasted longer than I had ever dreamed they would. We were fast approaching the point where this battle would devolve into a simple bloody melee.
I looked over the shield wall trying to catch sight of Zander or Ruguer. I could not see either one. I did catch the glint of sun on gold and saw that the Grey King was running toward the bluffs. He was flanked on all sides by other armored beasts. Since few of the Greys used armor other than thin copper breastplates I concluded these were his aides and advisors. The fact that they were heading toward the bluffs gave me courage. Was he fleeing the battle? Had he and his entourage glimpsed defeat and decided to literally “run for the hills”?
I continued to push my way through the glut of men and women, most of whom were doing the same as me. We all wanted to throw our weight against the enemy, to put our mark on this battle. We all knew that every dead invader got us
closer to victory. And we were getting there. We could all sense it. The Greys had suffered too many losses. Their one advantage, superior numbers, appeared to now be erased. There were simply too many of them lying dead in the valley dust.
I gently pushed aside a young woman who looked to be seventeen or so. She pushed me back and kept fighting her way to the fray.
When I was only two people from the front of the lines the shield wall in front of us was pulled forward and down. Scowling Greys flooded into our lines. The breach was unexpected and twenty or more of our people fell beneath chopping battle axes and spears. I bulled my way forward pushing and shoving.
“Damn it, let me through,” I yelled. I had my sword sheathed across my back and my mace was held high over my head with both hands. Another young lass in front of me heard my shout and stepped aside for me. Just as she did another break appeared in our shield wall and we were now attacked from two different angles. I finally pushed myself up next to a muscular young man who was visiting terrible injuries upon the attackers with a pitted and bloodied sword. He dropped two more Greys before I was able to step up and support him.
I hopped forward and swung my mace as hard as I could. It collided with two beasts, knocking them both backward. A third raider jabbed me in the side with a short spear. Before I could respond the youngster at my side took off both of his arms. I said a frantic and brief prayer that this young powerhouse would survive so I could take him to his favorite pub and provide him with every ounce of liquid cheer he could hold.
I was able to return the favor an instant later when two more attackers with axes leapt toward him. I put my body between them and him, shouldering one aside and bringing my mace down on the other’s head. Before the first could recover he was set upon by three of our warrior women who beat him senseless with war hammers.
But more and more the Greys were pushing through the gaps now. It was becoming increasingly difficult to even fight now because of the shoulder-to-shoulder conditions. Our warriors were falling with more regularity now. For the first time we were suffering losses on a major scale. With extreme reluctance I sheathed my mace. I just didn’t have enough room in which to make full swings with it. So I abandoned it and drew my sword. Using the sword I could now thrust forward with it when that was the only opportunity afforded to me by the cramped conditions. If some room opened up around me, I would be able to swing it in an arc, cleaving bone and flesh alike.
Around me the sound of the battle was overwhelming. The pounding of hooves, the buzzing of the black flies and the ring and clang of metal on metal. It all blended in to a single din that strengthened and faded in volume but never stopped.
The sounds I expected. Not the smells. The roar in my ears could be ignored but not the scents in my nose. Months of combat had acquainted me with their cause. I recognized the odor of spilt blood and opened bodies. And then, there was the unmistakable stench of the enemy. But it all was being expressed on a scale that I had never before encountered.
There was pain. My body was splashed with blood, some mine, some belonging to…them. My wounds burned with agony but there would be no help for them until this was over. I was tired to the point of exhaustion but I couldn’t stop. If I stopped others would die so I pushed forward. I lashed out with both hands. I grabbed with my left and stabbed with my right. I thought of her. If we fell she would also die, a brutal and painful death. So I pushed myself onward. She was the only thing that was important. The thought of her kept me going forward. Blood loss made me dizzy but it didn’t matter. Only she mattered. Others crowded in around me. I tried to protect them but they were dying all around me, crying out in pain. Young people who should be living on for decades lie still in the dust of this alien world.
We killed them by the thousands. We climbed over their bodies to kill more of them. And still they came. There was no end to them. They had become the nightmare of any soldier: the enemy that does not stop coming. How many must we kill before it ends? How many of us must die? This isn’t right, it makes no sense. They should turn and flee. There actions are…inhuman.
But no one said they were human.
Soon an assortment of warriors attached themselves to me and we swept forward, pushing back at the Grey intruders. We reached the point where the shield wall was still somewhat in existence and pushed on through. The people around me had seen what I was capable of and they fell into a voluntary supporting role. While I chopped and stabbed my way through walls of Grey beasts they guarded my sides and rear, engaging and dispatching any who threatened a rear attack. As the minutes stretched on our group grew larger. Some augmented my efforts by adding lethal pokes with pikes that had been dropped and recovered. Others leapt forward with all different kinds of weapons. I even saw the young lady that I had earlier pushed aside pelting Grey fighters with large rocks. I would have to add this courageous youngster to my planned celebration with the young powerhouse.
My entourage and I were having an effect but it was coming at a price. The Greys were loutish brutes but brutes can be dangerous fighters. Olvioni Warriors were fearless but not invulnerable. All around me I was seeing young men and women killed and horribly wounded. I, myself, was not getting away with my efforts unscathed. One of the armored pieces on my leather vest had been dented inward from some weapon I never even saw and it had left a sharp piece of metal bent inward which scraped flesh every time I moved. I had wounds on both thighs and my left bicep. My head throbbed from a glancing blow from a war hammer and there was a spear wound to my back that I feared was serious. The blood that flowed from that wound was running down my spine, mixing with sweat and pooling around the belt at my waist. The pain was significant but what I really feared was passing out from blood loss. And to top all of that off my helmet had been knocked off and sweat was running down into my eyes making it difficult to see. But I was determined to take out all of the slimy grey bastards that I could before I fell.
Aided and supported by my helpers we slashed and cut our way ever forward, deep into the Grey’s formation. What had started out as three or four warriors had grown to a dozen, then two dozen and now looked to be somewhere near fifty or sixty. I didn’t know how well the fight was going elsewhere but we seemed to be doing quite well all things considered. Then, quite unexpectedly, we kind of broke through the barrier of Grey fighters. We found ourselves stumbling out through the enemy’s rear ranks. I looked around momentarily confused by the lack of any enemy forces in front of us. It dawned on me that we had fought our way all the way through the enemy formation or what remained of it. A few of my fighters gave off a short cheer but most realized we were nowhere near to being able to claim a victory. Still, it was refreshing to know we had carved a scar through the enemy forces and left hundreds of them lying on the valley floor behind us.
Some of my followers called for a return to battle but I held up a hand and told them to grab a breath while they could. I was almost totally winded and I had taken some of Dwan’s special medicines for pain and energy. I could only guess at the state these other warriors were in. So I held them back while they bent forward with their hands on their knees and gasped air. I was no military genius like Ruguer but I knew better than to waste a rare opportunity to allow exhausted troops to physically recover. I watched as several of the Greys observed us and started our way then stopped as I stepped forward. They quickly went elsewhere when they saw my size and the number of warriors with me.
While we huffed and puffed I searched for signs of how the battle was progressing elsewhere. We had fought our way northward and were now in the approximate middle of the battlefield. Because of the direction our fighting took us we were also now behind most of the Grey formation. I stood on tiptoes and searched for Zander or Ruguer. I was disheartened to see that only about half of the cavalry still sat horse. Dead and bleeding horses littered the valley adding to the horrible sights and smells. I frantically cast about until I saw the King’s distinctive armor. He was flailing about on both sides o
f his horse with his mace. Blood and gore flew around and over him. Of the original royal guard there was now fewer than six left.
Things appeared to be working out for us. The shield wall, I now saw, was entirely gone and fighting had gone to the inevitable state of man-to-man with humans and Greys alike using sword, spear, hammer, club, teeth and rocks against each other. There were no lines now only crowds and groups. I could see that the battle on the south side, where my followers and I started out, was in the last stages. We had suffered horrible losses but the Greys had simply lost more. The battle on that side had gotten to the point where groups of Greys were being surrounded and cut down by larger crowds of Olvion Warriors.
But another dynamic was taking place also. Both sides were nearing exhaustion. Everywhere could be seen Greys and humans too weary to even fight back. Some were dropping their weapons while others simply knelt where they were trying desperately to regain their energy or catch their breath. The battle had gone on too long but there was simply no help for it. As is often said here as well as in my old world; war is hell.
The north end of the battle was still nip and tuck. I saw that Zander had rallied most of the mounted cavalry around him and was using the tried-and-true tactic of carving off sections of the enemy and leaving them open to assault from both horseback and infantry. But the number of mounted cavalry had been decimated. In several locations throughout the battlefield horsemen were being pulled from the saddle and chopped apart. I caught a glimpse of Ruguer, all alone and cut off from the group of riders around Zander. He was keeping his mount moving quickly and destroying every grey head he passed. Any Grey unfortunate enough to try to step in front of his steed was savagely broken apart by hoof or mace.
“We’re winning, Tink,” I said again even though I detected no sign of a connection.
KARR
Karr was running now. He was not a military savant like the human commander but he had enough common sense to keep a running account of how the battle was progressing. The humans had surprised him again, this time with a maneuver involving tens of thousands of fighters moving in an impossibly complicated maneuver. First they had split their formation into two parts, allowing hundreds of Karr’s people to surge forward smelling victory. Then the cowardly animal-riding soldiers had come thundering through the gap and killed some six or seven hundred of his raiders in less than a heartbeat’s time. Just as amazing was the fact that, after the mounted fighters had passed through, the gap was made solid again by fighters marching in unison like dancers. Karr had thrown his helmet away for the fifth time when he saw it happen. That time he had not been able to recover it because the human warriors were advancing ever closer and he had to flee with his aides.
The Olvion Reality (The Chronicles of Olvion Book 1) Page 47
