“I put it at 71,000 dead or deserted.”
“Don’t count the pilgrims,” I said.
“8,000 fighting men deserted and another 20,000 were killed by the fire. Most of the latter were from the levies and your cousin’s force.”
“Did any of his men escape west?” I asked.
“None that we could find. They were swarmed by the panicked pilgrims. They didn’t have a chance.”
I tried to keep in mind that I had lost only fifteen men from the 5th, and all of them to the enemy. I reminded myself that the Ludoq prince was one of Barok’s men and that I could count on him to attack the Sten. The Sten was no ally of mine, and it would suit me if his army of zealots and the Havishon tore each other to pieces.
I scratched my neck and accidentally scraped away the scab from the worst of my burns. My skin hurt, and my eyes still stung. It gave me the excuse I needed for one more day of delay.
“We call ourselves fit,” I said, “but those are the exaggerations of pride. Each of you will make the rounds with your captains personally and see that everything that can be done for the men has been. Double food and water rations today and tomorrow, and every man not on watch is to be in his cot asleep.”
None of them suffered to argue, and I followed my own orders.
Okel woke me when the first of the faithful arrived at our river that evening. They were a hodge-podge of self-sanctified madmen and glory-hungry fools. None had the brass to advance in front of us. They crowded along the banks of the river below us instead. They seemed not to understand that they were drinking and cooking with the Akal-Tak piss-filled runoff from my camp, and I wasn’t about to tell them.
The morning brought word of armies approaching from both directions. To the northeast a fresh body of the Havishon marched down off the ridge. I sent recons in force to learn their number and disposition. To the southwest, it was the Sten himself, Disand Evandalesta, the pikemen of his church, and a horde of pilgrims. I rode out with my officers to greet him.
I cannot say whether His Grace had any intention of stopping, but he had no way forward unless I cleared off the road and bridge.
The men that advanced to meet me were cloaked in white robes from head to toe. Not a single black hat, shoe, or horse was to be found. The Sten rode a white mule. The change in attire was not becoming. They looked on their way to a costume party. A few of the riders had the features of men from Khrim or Abodeen, but their skin lacked the typical olive hue. The rosy color upon their cheeks did not seem right. Stage makeup, perhaps? Their expressions put me off, too. They were placid and dull beyond the calm of sleep.
The air took on a chill.
I asked Okel, “Do you have that war hammer Barok sent?”
“Not here,” was all he had time to say.
I steeled my expression, dismounted with the rest, and took a knee as the Mouth of Bayen pulled his mule to a halt. “I had not meant for you to be stopped, Your Grace.”
“Get up, dear boy, get up. You have not stopped me, but you have stopped. Why?”
“To refit and reassemble the division after the fire. We’ve been out upon the road three days ambushing the Havishon scouts. They know we are here but know nothing about the great host they face.”
“Ambush? The Hemari do not lay ambush. Not when driven by the hand of Bayen. You have been up the road yourself and then retreated back here?”
“I have preserved my division and prevented the enemy from routing the army after the fire.”
“You evade my question. I find it distasteful,” he said. “Assemble your division and proceed as your Lord Bayen demands.”
His smile was too sweet. Forced. He was Hessier, just as the other five, and they meant to kill me. They had set the forest on fire, not Sahin. Barok’s letter made their plotting transparent. It was heartening that they were forced to disguise themselves.
“I will see your will done,” I said and bowed very low before I hurried back atop Marrow. “It will take an amount of time for us to decamp and make way. Will your force be taking the lead?”
“No. We will take a meal here and allow you forward. Make haste, Bayen is watching.”
“Would any of your men care to join me so that you have eyes and ears on the forward edge?”
He waved three of the Hessier forward, as though he’d tired of speaking. The chill grew more pronounced as they rode close. They did not look like Minister Sikhek’s Hessier. They had hair, and though pale, needed only a bit of makeup to blend in amongst fools.
I found a smile for Disand, bowed once more, and withdrew.
“Why didn’t you challenge him?” Colonel Grano whispered as we started back. “Disand is in league with Hessier. Make them show red.”
“Not here,” I whispered back. “Be ready. Now move on before they start using their magic and we lose the ability to act.”
The 5th jumped to when I called them up. The levies and nobles decamped admirably, and Disand was not left time enough for that meal. We started northeast, and his pilgrims scurried after us. I chuckled to see a portion of his wagon train move up behind us. My quartermaster had bought, bullied, or otherwise pinched all of Disand’s horse feed. If the man survived the day, I’d make him a general.
The plain of flat, fire-washed ground before us held no secrets, and only the occasional tortured stump accented the scene. Across this bleak landscape I could see the battle unfolding. I saw my place in the world, the reason for Barok’s letter, and reason for the fight he made. Our father had failed us. The Hessier were our rulers, even now. The day might well claim me, but Disand and his would not survive it.
The Havishon showed themselves without ceremony or preamble and pressed straight down the road while my division watered and fed. It was their road, they believed, and they were loud in their anger at our trespass. They made shows of chanting and carried high the light blue pennants of the Ludoq. They numbered as many as the men of the Kaaryon behind us—men drawn by the story of Sahin and Liv. Despite the show, however, they came forward under discipline. Elements began to move left and right. The men of the East meant to present for proper battle. A tall pennant appeared at their center, and the host roared. Sahin had rallied the East and had found capable officers.
Not found—he had brought them with him. Forty capable greencoats, but they would not be enough once the action began. The men of the East had not changed. Their betters had hold of them, but not for much longer.
“Order, division, formation forward, northeast by the regiment.”
The column reformed behind us perpendicular to the road, facing the Havishon. I rode forward a small distance. The Hessier followed. My colonels assembled on me as required. Okel had the war hammer, and my officers looked ready.
I said to them, “Send word to the levy commander. He is to move northwest and take our left flank. He must hold position until ordered otherwise. The noblemen are to form up and hold position on our right. Also send word to our Sten. I have spotted the Ludoq prince, and I move in force to kill him.”
“No,” one of the rosy-cheeked priests said. “You are to wait for orders from the Sten.”
“Strike that last,” I said and waved my officers in. “Colonels, come. We need to hear this. Your Grace, what were you saying? How shall we …”
Their Akal-Tak leapt forward. Okel struck the first Hessier with Barok’s war hammer, and the full length of the long spike pierced the top of his skull. My colonels struck the other two as swiftly with heavy broadswords. The skull of one opened nicely, but the last survived the blows. A piece of his face was hewn away and his left shoulder was cleaved through to his lung, yet he remained in the saddle.
His magic grabbed hold of us. I lost my will, and my world became cold and hollow. I could not resist.
The bluecoats are my enemies! How have I not seen it before?
I reached for my sword, intent upon delivering them to Bayen. All their lies—I would kill them all.
I heard a series of meaty
whacks—dozens of them in quick succession. I hunkered into my armor, expecting a blow from one of the deceitful Hemari.
But the icy grip upon me faded. My mind righted itself, and I let go of my sword. The horrible demon was on the ground, riddled with arrows. Two had struck him through the head. Okel leapt from his horse and hammered their broken skulls open for good measure.
The men of the 5th looked on. The blood was gray, as Barok had promised, and the scent of decay was nauseating.
“It gets the job done,” Okel said as he worked to clean the war hammer as though it were an old friend. “Not even those helmets of theirs would have helped much. And good on you, Colonel Ivinta. I didn’t think we had forty archers in the whole division.”
Ivinta replied, “Lucky for us they weren’t wearing that armor Sikhek put his dead men in.”
They looked ready to begin discussing the merits of weapons and armor.
“Tie them to their horses,” I said hotly. “Quickly. We cannot leave them for Disand to discover.”
“Could Disand already know we have attacked his Hessier?” Grano asked.
We looked southwest through the picturesque rows of ready Hemari. Disand’s pikemen marched on as though nothing had changed, and the pilgrims trotted along around them as if on holiday.
“Let’s hope not. Get moving. And get rid of that blood.”
Horse dung was kicked over the gray mess, the messengers went as I ordered, and I called the 5th to advance as though I meant for us to challenge the host of the Ludoq alone.
Across the tortured vista, the men of the East were preparing. Their numbers astonished me—more than Havish by itself could ever muster. Dahar had thrown in, perhaps men from Aneth and Yudyith as well. They might well outnumber us. It was all of the East I faced.
The Havishon watched curiously as I led the 5th across alone. I brought them to a halt just beyond range of their bows and waved up my colonels and chief of staff.
“Okel, a sword and spear, please, and check my armor. The rest of you, watch for my orders and the movement of your brother regiments. We will be moving as a single unit today. I intend to preserve the 5th. Be sharp, gentlemen. We will all of us perish if one of you fails.”
Okel handed me my favorite blade, set a spear into my stirrup holster, and tugged at my armor until he was satisfied.
“Today’s maneuver?” Colonel Grano asked.
I detailed my plan. They agreed with sharp salutes and returned to their brigades.
“You are quite mad,” Okel said. “Any chance I could convince you to let me do this first bit?”
“No. This is my army. Today starts and ends with me, my friend.”
I put on the helmet he offered and turned Marrow toward the enemy. I rode across alone, sword bare and shield upon my arm. My golden mare was in fine spirits and pranced high. I encouraged her head up, and she bared her teeth and shrieked.
The Havishon wished to finish deploying. Those nearest were in place, and their officers kept them in check with the constant call of “Ludoq, hold.” No one of senior rank seemed to be on hand. The army of the Ludoq was thin on top. Sahin was somewhere on the far side ordering his army into place.
I rode close enough that one man tried the distance with a spear. It fell far short. Others prepared bows.
“Send your best,” I shouted.” Send your royal or whatever man carries his sword. Send a man who thinks he can move me off this road.”
A young officer swore at me, and his men cheered him. I pointed my sword at him. “Give me your name, sir, so that I can find and take your wife when you are dead.”
The Havishon screamed at me, and the officer charged. Marrow was ready for the action and started straight at the large man who galloped forward with a heavy spear at the ready. The man’s throw was good, but Marrow jumped aside for me like a spring fawn and then pounced back in like a lioness. I stabbed the man through the breast, and he pitched out of the saddle. His men quieted. I circled and dismounted next to the dying man. They expected me to take his sword as a token.
I adjusted my armor, instead, and pissed upon his face. The roar of their anger was deafening. Arrows stabbed at me, and I almost did not make it aloft in time. Marrow spun and tore back southwest at full pace while a hundred riders and a thousand infantry gave chase.
I halved the distance back to my men, flipped up my faceplate, and filled my lungs. “Order, division, charge!” I bellowed.
My colonels were ready. The 5th was ready. They came like the falling weight of an iron block. The Havishon that had broken ranks tried to turn back, but their lives ended in a rush of horse and sharp steel. We struck the disorganized mass of men behind them and killed a thousand more before I signaled for us to withdraw. The 5th wheeled, and the long line of us disengaged.
We’d tagged them, and the moment of truth for my tactic was at hand.
A Kaaryon-led force would close ranks, set spears, and wait for us to try them again. The men of the East were not that kind, and I laughed as the Havishon chased us en mass, wanting revenge and thinking we had fled.
Back up the road I saw what I wanted.
Disand’s pennant was there in the midst of the long column of purple-cloaked pikemen and childish pilgrims—150,000 fools fast marching up behind us. They were already well forward of the levies and noblemen on the flanks. They had no notion of what I was doing or what I was bringing to them through the dust and ash.
I raised my long spear and signaled a turn southeast into the breeze. Through the surging dust of our racing horses, only a few of the 5th could see me, but again they turned as a single body. We slid out of the way of Disand and his destiny.
A great cloud of ash was flung up by our hooves, and it covered the gap between them. We were well south of the mix when I turned us to witness the results of our swift stroke.
Cloaked in a cloud of dust, men and horses by the tens of thousands screamed in surprise, rage, and pain. The sound was a thing from dreams. Countless weapons chewed into armor and flesh. If I had not created the great calamitous spectacle myself, I’d have thought the thing before me a demon born up from the wreck and debris of the great fire.
The dust gave way to the determined breeze and slowly revealed the light blue pennants that had pushed around and through the mass of purple. Disand’s tall red pennant was surrounded. Somewhere there were the few Hessier who’d thought to use and kill me. I wondered how long the Sten had been a Hessier, and how many thousands they could control.
Their magic reached out then, and the tepid pilgrims flung themselves forward. The entire central mass moved back to the northeast. Light blue pennants fell all along the forward edge. The reckless vigor of the Havishon was of no use.
A taller pennant appeared. There he was: Barok’s man. He kept coming, too, seemingly unaffected by the touch of the Hessier. Straight in, he went, even as the pilgrims and pikemen surged deep into his army. Soon only Sahin’s pennant was up in the center. It continued on, pushing ever closer to Disand.
“Go on man, get him,” I cheered.
Then Disand’s pennant fell, and it did not rise again. The aspect of the army changed. The men of the East roared with anger, and the pilgrims froze in place. They were surrounded, and though they had bloodied the Havishon badly, they were still outnumbered. The Sten’s army quivered and fled, but it was far too late for men on foot to escape light horse. The zealots of the Kaaryon died by the thousands. It was beautiful.
All throughout this slaughter, none moved to aid them—Hemari, levies, or nobles. Zoviya’s opinion of its priests and their devotees had been long known but never better expressed. The disorganized and leaderless pikemen and pilgrims were left to die.
Sahin’s horses hunted them to the man, but they did not stop there as I expected them to. The fleet cavalry pressed forward into the ready line of nobles and levies. The men of the Kaaryon presented a strong wall of spears, but few of those men were soldiers. In moments, the line sagged and blurred as the darti
ng and insulting cavalry pressed them.
But the Havishon tactic was wasted. Their infantry did not follow on. It would take them time to reassemble after the beating they had taken, and those that remained had fallen to the pillage of Disand’s army.
I got ready to call the charge and clear away the press of inferior cavalry. I would relieve the struggling nobles, our line would hold, and the day would end with the wounded East withdrawing to the ridgeline. I’d have breastworks up before the sunset, and the road would be mine.
“Sir,” called a lieutenant of scouts from behind me. He’d ridden through our formation. His horse was spent, and the man was near panic. “Reporting, sir. Another body is moving up from the south. Cavalry bearing yellow pennants. Yudyith lancers, I believe.”
“How many?”
“Twice our number, sir. I’ve sent the rest of my troop forward to learn their numbers and the crests upon the pennants. They are just there, sir. Hidden in the dust.”
I turned to see the smudge upon the horizon. They were not far.
Back to the northwest, Sahin had moved as well. He’d withdrawn behind his reserve infantry, leaving the rest to pick over the pilgrims.
I hollered for my colonels to join me. Grano did not come. “Where is he?” I asked the captain who rode forward in his place.
“An arrow took his horse as we made the turn south.”
Marrow screamed at me for pulling on the reins, and it took all my will to relax again in the saddle. My arms and legs trembled with rage.
“Sir,” Okel said, his harsh voice strained, “what are your orders?”
“Captain, assemble your regiment on me. I am taking command of 1st brigade.” To my colonels I said, “We must strike the Havishon before they are reinforced. Circle your brigades east around to the rear of that disorganized infantry and route them toward our noblemen. I will ride straight along our line and clear away the Havishon’s cavalry. We’ll meet in the middle and withdraw to the river.”
The rumble from an approaching line of storm clouds and a gusting of the wind made for an ominous signal as the 5th swung into action.
Corsair Princess Page 5
