Don looked back to a knoll overlooking the left center of the line. Robert motioned with a quick curl of his arm, the signal, “Form on me!” Don wheeled away and spurred up the little hill. Snap scrambled over the rocks and between clumps of runty sage brush. Robert gave him a tight-lipped smile as Don reined in beside him. He could hear hooting and jeering from the crowd of Raiders.
“Your place is not in the line now, Donald,” began Robert. “You were right to lead from the front and show the youngsters how it is done. The retreat that turned into a wheel—beautifully done! I saw that you got your sword bloody. But you have taken enough chances for one day! Now I need your brains.”
Don’s ears burned as he accepted the rebuke. He quickly scanned the battlefield. The strange lull in the fighting continued. The line of Raiders looked like flotsam along a seashore—a seething line bristling with spears. A flock of magpies flew over as though they did not want to miss the excitement. Bowmen traded ineffective arrows. The range was too long, and the shafts too easily dodged. Someone cried, “Hold your fire.”
“Where are the scouts?” asked Don, suddenly realizing that there could be another enemy unit in the area. It was fatal to lose touch with the larger battlefield!
“Well you might ask,” returned Robert. “There was supposed to be five hundred of these devils, and this force is nowhere near that many!”
Don realized that Robert was right. His heart sank. Balek must have held back one hundred men—probably more. That would mean that their camp was well defended. And that would mean danger to their plan.
“We have to warn the levy!” exclaimed Don.
“Too late!” came the response. “By now they must have marched within view of the fort! Any Raiders in the fort will certainly stay behind the walls, now!”
“Still,” he added. “The levy might not have moved. It is possible. Philip was unable to deliver the message to move up.”
Chapter 25
†
The Fort Falls
The arms of the wicked will be broken, but the Lord supports the righteous. Psalm 37:17 HCSB
Save me from the guilt of bloodshed, God, the God of my salvation, and my tongue will sing of your righteousness. Psalm 51:14 HCSB
The strange lull in the battle quickly ended, as the Raiders tried to turn first the left then the right flank. Balek Brown was cleverly forcing the two troops facing him to pull back into a semicircle formation. The troopers shifted left, so that they surrounded the brow of a small hill, south of the saddle. The knoll was part of the lower ridge, and they had a grove of pinion and juniper trees behind them, to the east. That side of the hill had a steep slope with scattered rim rock. It was not a good place for cavalry to attack, so it anchored their back quite well.
“We have to find out what is happening at the Raider fort,” shouted Don to Robert. The Raiders were holding the right flank, but their line was thinly held. If he moved fast, he could possibly break out.
Robert looked to the right and understood what Don intended. “You are right. Go! But take three of the guards with you! Don’t try it alone!”
Don motioned to three troopers, bodyguards, and pumped his closed right fist up and down—the hand signal to charge. Then he spurred Snap for the grassy saddle on the right flank. He moved so fast that the others were caught by surprise, but they fell in behind him. Don had lost his spear somewhere. So he drew his sword and shouted, “Make way!”
The troopers on the line pulled their mounts aside to let the four of them through and they drove straight toward a small knot of enemy. Don’s kite shield protected his left side, and the shining blade on his right was a vision of death. The Raiders broke, parting before them like grass before the reaper. One cast a javelin, but Don batted it aside. The four simply kept going toward the east, over the ridge and down the other side. Don looked over his shoulder and was glad to see that all three companions were still with him. They were followed by a score of Raiders, who kept a respectful distance, accompanied by much angry shouting. Then they heard a piercing whistle. Their pursuers reined their horses to a stop and then turned back. They were apparently not going to weaken their force to chase a few fugitives. Don and his troopers had broken free, but getting back would not be so easy!
They galloped on across a wide swale dotted with scattered bitterbrush and serviceberry. The major ridge ahead would give a clear view of the Raider camp. As they topped it, they came nearly face to face with another band of Raiders—well over a hundred. They had found the rest of Balek Brown’s minions.
They had apparently had left the fort unguarded. Balek Brown had taken the bait. That was good for everyone except the bait. He realized that he was in the jaws of a trap, and to return the way he had come was to feel the jaws close and crush his small band.
“Break right!” he shouted, pointing with his sword. A great shout went up from the enemy force. As they spurred to follow, Don and his three companions turned down the ridge and headed toward the river, drawing pursuit away from the fort. Running downhill, the warhorses had a better chance of holding their slight lead over the fast little ponies.
Just as before, a score of Raiders followed them. Don could see that the bulk of them would join with the force opposing Robert and his two troops. That was just as they had hoped. The way was clear for the levies. If only they would quickly seize the moment to assault the virtually-undefended fort! But Don had problems of his own. His mount was tiring, and the enemy ponies were fresh.
Don led the way on a breakneck dash towards the valley and the main road. But the lightly-armored Raiders easily kept the pace and were closing the gap. One of their short arrows sailed just over Don’s head. Fortunately, the shot was aimed at the rider and not his horse. Don’s mail would stop any arrow, though perhaps at the cost of a broken link. Too many broken links and the armor would be defeated! And if he lost Snap, he was finished.
Snap lunged bravely on. They passed a dense grove of Gambel’s oak, and Don then reined to a stop around a sort of corner. Don’s companions swept by, then also wheeled. When the leading Raiders swept by, they met them with deadly blades. Four saddles were emptied in an instant. Three rider-less ponies dashed on. The rest of the Raiders wheeled away and also came to a stop, perhaps a hundred yards away. The two groups faced each other for a long instant.
Then a couple of Raider archers nocked arrows and let fly. The arrows did no damage, but it made Don remember that he also had a bow and, being longer, it outranged the enemy’s. To string it was the work of a moment, and he drew one of his ten arrows. He could not hold both the bow and his kite shield with his left arm, so he let the shield drop—to be held by its carrying strap. He aimed at one of the closest Raiders—the pony, not the person—and let fly. It was not a difficult shot. The arrow buried itself in the pony’s ribs.
Don’s bow changed the equation. The stricken pony lunged forward, trying to escape the sharp, piercing pain. One of the guards at Don’s right rear also strung a bow. The remaining Raiders pulled back to a respectful distance, beyond easy bowshot, and tried to decide what to do. The wounded pony fell. Don winced. Only the needs of war would allow him to cause harm to one of these courageous little creatures!
The remaining fifteen Raiders milled around in confusion. Don was glad to let Snap blow. He had been pushing his mount hard. He glanced at the other three horses, and saw that they were well lathered, and also needed to catch their breath. It was a stalemate. Even fifteen of the Raiders could not frontally charge the four without heavy losses. The four could not chase down the Raiders—they were too nimble in an open field. The fifteen could surround and wear them down, but the dense grove of oak at their rear frustrated that. The Raiders were reduced to shouting obscene taunts. Don decided to hold his position, and so the standoff continued.
“Dammit, sir,” spat a husky redhead named Colin. “Are we just go
ing to sit here all day? We can’t let those cowardly wretches get away with calling us names!” His mates grumbled assent.
Don found himself agreeing that they had to do something. Their horses had caught their breath. The problem was that for every action the Raiders might take, Don had a logical counter. And the same was true in reverse. Everything he might do to regain the initiative could be easily negated by the enemy, if they were clever, and they seemed to be that. It was a recipe for indecision. But he know that they had to do something, even if it was wrong!
He decided that since they had their bows and were well armoured, that a good plan would be to advance to bowshot range and engage them. They would then try to move down to the river and at least water their horses. Then the enemy seemed distracted and were pointing down the valley. Don suddenly spurred Snap and led his small detachment straight at them, arrow on bowstring. The Raiders wheeled and galloped back the way they had come. As Don topped a small knoll, he could see why. The Blades had come!
†
Late the next day, Don and Robert met with Samuel, Malcolm, Enos, and Del Pembroke at Samuel’s new headquarters. Timothy Stonehewer, chief of Ariel’s council, one of the famous dwarfs, was also there. Samuel, in his role as marshall, had taken over the larger stone building at Fort Baldy, close to the stables and barracks. The group gathered in what must have been a dining room. A window with real glass faced west, but if it ever had a view, the fort walls blocked it now. A rough wooden table and six chairs held center place. A wooden map board stood against the wall opposite the window.
Robert went over the bare facts of the battle: friendly losses, enemy killed and captured, supplies captured, slaves freed. Philip had pulled together the preliminary numbers, even though they were not complete. Even now, Philip and John, a weapon master of Ariel (and commander of Ariel’s town levy), with a dozen of his picked men from the levy, were still working on a final inventory of the Raider’s hoard.
“Hmmm,” said Del. “So you have not really found much treasure. That is a surprise.”
“No doubt they shipped all their really precious loot west to the Prophet’s country,” said Samuel, impatiently. “Let’s talk about the battle. If I understand right, you caught them in a pincher movement. Right?”
Robert looked at Don who answered. “Yes, that is how it worked out. The Prophet had our two troops surrounded—almost. They had the way blocked on three sides, and the other side was almost impassable because of rocks and downed trees. Balek Brown kept trying to taunt our troopers into trying a breakout. He did not realize that we were in no hurry at all. We wanted to keep him tied up until the levy had time to take the fort.”
“When the Blades arrived and came over the ridge into their rear, we caught them by surprise. They still outnumbered us, of course, but their numbers did them no good.”
“Why was that?” asked Samuel.
“The Blades hit them on their rear, and started cutting down the stragglers. Then the other two troops came and hit them in a frontal charge. They could not stand against us, so their only choice was to retreat to the north or go back to their fort.”
Robert added, “North was uphill, so the natural thing was to go back the way that they had come. And when they came within bowshot of their fort, they were met with a rain of arrows. Crossbow bolts too.”
He nodded to Del. “Your idea was good. Insisting that the levy drag those big crossbows along. There was no way that the Raiders could recapture their own fort. Anyway, that was the end for the Raiders. By this time they had lost a third of their numbers. We simply surrounded them and cut them down. Ugly butcher’s work!”
Don glanced at the notes that Philip had given him. “About twenty got away, unfortunately! We captured about two hundred, of whom about seventy are badly wounded. The rest died on the field.”
“Well, I imagine I am expected to pat you on the back,” said Del. “You did good work. But what are we supposed to do with those prisoners? Take them into our city and let them eat our food?”
“I think these prisoners could well turn out to be useful,” said Samuel. “That is how it turned out before. Years ago!”
“The House of Healing has agreed to treat the wounded, of both sides,” said Malcolm. “We will put the wounded Raiders in a field hospital that we are setting up outside the walls—under guard, of course. We are giving care to the freed slaves—within the walls.”
“We will hold any leaders for possible prisoner exchange,” said Samuel. “But I think any walking wounded we should just set free. If they can’t work and are just common soldiers, they will be just useless eaters. I am talking about those that will be unfit for duty for at least a month or so.”
There were nods all around at that. Don’s report revealed that the three troops had only light casualties. A total of six troopers were dead, and only four of them from enemy action. Two died when their horses fell upon them. Another thirty were wounded, mostly from arrow wounds to the arms and legs. Thirty warhorses were lost, but nearly five hundred ponies were captured.
The fort had stored enough provisions for several months, which were being divided among the walled towns and the House of Healing. The additional foodstuffs would be most welcome, and the captured weapons would also be put to good use. Unfortunately, most of the arrows, and they captured a goodly store of them, were too short for the longbows that Ariel and Bethuel preferred. They could be used, but not well, except for the Diné. The arrows would fit their bows perfectly.
Don closed with high praise for John, who had commanded the combined levies of Bethuel and Ariel, and the levies themselves for their timely capture of the undefended fort. “They did everything that we could have asked, and their timing was perfect!”
“What about the enemy leaders?” asked Samuel. “Why do I think that you have some bad news on that score?”
“You probably think that because we haven’t mentioned it,” answered Robert. “The sad truth is … they got away. All their top leaders, anyway.”
“That is bad news!” said Malcolm. He rubbed his forehead.
“How did that happen?” asked Del. His voice was hard, and his face set.
“I saw Brown, their commander, several hundred yards uphill from the main body, when we first attacked them,” answered Don. “But I could not break anyone free to try to catch them—not then.”
“I saw them, also,” said Robert. “Balek Brown and several of his henchmen. But they went around the hill and did not go down toward the fort. Blast it! I wish he had taken the bait!”
“So their top leaders all got away, is that it?” asked Samuel.
“That’s about it,” answered Robert. “They never went within bowshot of the fort. We were all so focused on the bulk of them, that we could not spare anyone to chase the leaders down. So they got away clean. Went downriver, unless I miss my guess.”
“Actually, Robert, a few of our scouts did chase them for a ways,” said Don. “And they confirmed that Balek Brown and his party went downriver. But they were too lightly armed to do more than follow. Brown’s party had fresh horses and a good start. So the scouts gave up after five miles or so.”
“Blast it!” spat Del. “That will cost us, unless I miss my guess.”
A couple of troopers came in from the field kitchen bearing some mugs with a frothy top. They placed them on the table and backed out. Samuel picked one up and offered a toast. “Here is to both of you and those tough troopers you lead!” he said, and took a drink. The others followed suit, except for Don and Robert.
“Well, come on,” said Samuel, gesturing. “Don’t stand on ceremony. Drink up!”
Then they all took a drink. It was stout ale from the cellars of Bethuel.
Robert gave thanks to God, then offered a toast to the levies.
“I must say that I am amazed,” said Samu
el. “Those troopers of yours were green as grass. But they not only held their own, they took those Raiders down. I almost can’t believe it.”
The meeting broke up after a few minutes. Afterwards, Samuel pulled Don aside. “You remember Jane, one of the captives, don’t you?” he said.
Don nodded. “Certainly. She was from down-river. I wonder if her family was one of those that we moved,” he said.
“They were indeed. Abel made some inquiries, and her mother and father are among the refugees. They will be among those housed here in Ariel. I have an apartment that I will not be using, so they will be staying there for the time being. We will bring Jane down here and reunite them. I thought you would like to know.”
†
After the meeting, Don and Robert made a quick trip to the House of Healing to visit and encourage the wounded troopers. A half-dozen were fit enough to ride and return to light duty, so when they were finally able to locate their war-horses in the stables, they all went back to Fort Baldy. It was pitch black when Don finally got his mount cared for. Then he had a light supper alone in his small tent, which was pitched next to Robert’s command tent.
He had just finished eating, and had moved the tin plate off his folding wooden table to clear the way for paperwork, when Philip entered. Philip saluted in the ancient manner, then began to loosen the chinstrap of his helm.
“You are looking and acting more like a proper trooper every day,” said Don, returning the salute. “Have you eaten?”
“Yes, sir. A lot better than you, unless I miss my guess,” returned Philip. Don noted that he was no longer his cheery self. Philip had gone through a period of mourning for his parents, but had snapped out of it when the training had begun in earnest. Now it seemed to be back.
The Stonegate Sword Page 45
