Stoc (A New Druids Series Book 3)

by Donald D. Allan

  The Baron looked around in annoyance. "I still fail to understand the need to be standing here for hours waiting for midday."

  Brent ignored him and turned to James. "With me, James." Brent gave his horse his head and moved at a slow walk down toward the line. James fell in beside him. The Baron watched, and then rolled his eyes.

  "Where are they going?" complained the Baron out loud.

  "I suspect they are going to talk to the men and women, your Lordship," answered Martin. "And give them courage."

  As the sun reached its zenith, the Baron ordered the white flag unfurled. His flagman held it aloft and rotated it in slow arcs above his head. In response, a similar white flag was raised by the other army.

  "Your Lordship, the parley has been accepted. If you would?" Brent beckoned ahead of him with his arm.

  The Baron swallowed and nodded his head. He gave a sharp kick to his horse and then reined it back to a brisk walk. Brent and the flagmen carrying the flags for Turgany and the white parley, road in behind. Once together they broke into a trot and rode down through the opening in the ranks to emerge out into the open field. A small table with two chairs had already been placed in the centre of the field. They rode direct toward the table and watched as a similar band of horses broke through the ranks of the enemy and preceded to the same location. The man at the head was General Ben Miller. He was flanked by two of the men from the East. Behind him were two flagmen carrying the parley flag and the flag of Belkin.

  Both groups stopped short of the table and all but the flagmen dismounted. Baron Windthrop walked over to the table and stood behind his chair and placed a hand on the back of it. Brent stepped close but stopped a few feet short. He watched as the General dismounted and walked over to stand behind his chair. The two figures from the East came over and stood behind him on either side. They were dressed somewhat the same except the one on the right wore black with a bright sash over his shoulder and the other wore a light brown colour. The one on the left is Mushir Adham, and the other in black must be that Kamal fellow, thought Brent.

  Kamal seemed intent on Brent and stared hard at him. Adham seemed bored and looked about aimlessly. Both Kamal and Adham carried scimitars, but they were sheathed and their hands were kept well clear. Brent turned and nodded to the parley flag bearer. The man dismounted and came forward and placed the flagpole into a holder on the ground. Ben Miller's man did the same and soon both white flags fluttered in the midday sun.

  "Shall we sit?" asked the Baron.

  "I do not sit with criminals. You and Bairstow are under arrest for treason to the Realm. I suggest you surrender yourselves forthwith and retreat your armies from the field. This farce has gone on long enough."

  The Baron opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Brent cursed under his breath at the Baron. Dammit, we spoke about this. We expected this line of discussion.

  The Baron looked back at Brent with eyes pleading for assistance. Brent sighed inwardly and stepped forward and stopped. Ben Miller arched an eyebrow at Brent.

  "If I may, the Baron is not used to this kind of discussion. He simply does not know when a completely stupid remark is made in his presence and how to respond. We are not criminals. We represent the return of order to a realm long held hostage by the acts of a tyrant. We speak of Lord Protector John Healy."

  "President," replied Ben Miller.

  "I don't care what he calls himself. Ben, you can't possibly be siding with that ass."

  Ben smiled. "From where I stand I appear to be on the winning side, Brent."

  "I prefer to be on the right side."

  "As do I."

  Brent laughed, startling the Baron. "So here we are. Me, standing with an army behind me that seeks to revert the realm back to normalcy, and you with an army seeking to keep the people ignorant while one man opens the realm to an invading army. That sound about right?"

  "No, it does not. I see my army trying to push back an open rebellion that threatens the realm to the point where an ally was required to exert authority. Your efforts are weakening the land. This is futile, Bairstow. Surely you see that? You were never the fool."

  "And you were always the officer looking to get ahead quickly by whatever means. Enough, do you mean to engage?"

  Ben nodded sharply.

  "Fine. You there," said Brent to Kamal. "Why are you here? What do you hope to gain? Dominion?"

  Ben spoke before Kamal could. "They are our ally. The realm is in turmoil throughout. Villages and townships are rising up. The Church is gaining strength and the threat of a new revolution is becoming surer every day. Your efforts have stirred up discontent throughout the land. With my allies, we will strike you down and re-assert control over the realm. You are criminals, nothing more."

  Ben jutted his chin at the Baron. "Lord Andrew Windthrop is an embarrassment and a freak. He is playing at thrones and has no empathy to the grief and pain he is causing—he thinks only of his own personal gain. He was to be arrested in Jergen. Resisting arrest is only one of his many crimes. You, Brent Bairstow, are guilty by association. Both of you are to be trialled and then executed."

  Brent grew quiet. "Tell me, Ben Miller. Did my brother Frederick ever speak to you? Share with you the results of the investigation I once led and handed over to him? You were never on our list of those under the thumb of the Lord Protector. He would have approached you. Showed you just how corrupt Healy is. What did you do then, I wonder? I think I know the answer for here you are standing tall and wearing the uniform my brother once wore with pride and honour.

  "What swayed you? You know the man has a heart as black as the deepest night. He is greed and hunger for power all wrapped up in delusion. You have joined forces with an army that seeks to wipe this realm from the face of the earth. They will salt the lands and leave no one behind alive."

  Ben glowered. "Enough. This parley is over." Ben turned away and mounted his horse. Kamal paused for a moment to stare at Brent with a cold intensity. Brent felt a sudden stab of cold fear and fumbled for his amulet and pulled it free. Kamal eyed it and spun away and mounted his horse. Mushir Adham grinned at Brent and went to his horse.

  Brent kept an eye on the three as they started to ride away. "Come, Lord Windthrop. They will attack as soon as they return to their ranks."

  The Baron looked around confused. "What just happened?"

  "Nothing happened. We are at war. Same as before. Come."

  "What about the table and chairs? And the parley flags?"

  "Leave them. It will all be kindling soon enough."

  The battle began with the skirl of the bagpipes and the hard beat of the drum. It was the Baron who called the attack first. The combined Turgany Army had its soldiers in three lines of equal ranks to the army of the Realm's two ranks. Behind them were the archers in the staggered lines of a chevron. The cavalries of both sides were held back and reserves were pulled to the rear. Central to both armies were the protected leaders. Red chirurgeon tents lay far back from the lines. Messengers stood ready beside their leaders to relay orders.

  The front lines of the soldiers bristled with pikes, throwing spears, and locked shields. The Turgany Army's archers closed behind the soldiers until they reached bow range. The drums changed the beat, and the sky filled with arrows. Cries rose and shields were lifted overhead. The arrows fell and here and there an unlucky soldier would fall with a cry, pierced through. From behind, they would be replaced as others moved forward from the rear ranks to fill the holes. With twenty paces between the armies the order to throw was given and throwing spears sped between the armies. The army of the Realm protected forward against spears as arrows rained down from on high.

  Baron Windthrop gave a nod to General Brent Bairstow. "Excellent timing, General. The practice paid off."

  Brent ignored the comment and kept his focus on the field. The Baron, Colonel Robert Sibbald and Major James Dixon were all that made up the field headquarters. All the other officers were down at the battle. They
refused to remain apart from the soldiers. Brent could see them now yelling orders and riding back and forth behind the line deflecting arrows with a raised shield. Brent was proud of them.

  "Arrows down to half," intoned Colonel Sibbald.

  "Roger," replied Brent.

  "Adham's men are behaving oddly," said James.

  Brent had noticed. Adham's men were positioned on each flank of the Realm army. They walked almost nonchalantly, oblivious to the order of the Realm army. Many were struck by the arrows fired their way. They seemed to make a game of it, dodging and leaping to the side at the last possible moment.

  "Here it comes," muttered James.

  The armies clashed with a thundering crash. Brent winced at the sound. It was a sound like no other. Impossible to describe, but it could loosen the bowels of the stoutest individual. The crash was soon followed by the cries of pain and suffering from those struck on the field. The air above the soldiers filled with a fine red mist. The right flank wavered.

  A change in the pipes from the enemy was heard and immediately the Calvary of the Realm wheeled in tight formation and surged toward the right flank. Brent opened his mouth to give an order but Sibbald beat him to it. The Turgany drums beat a quick staccato and the first Calvary of Turgany charged to the weakened flank. The enemy cavalry hit the flank but the Turgany soldiers were ready. They had trained for this and shields were set and pikes lowered in a descending line.

  A moment later the enemy cavalry hit the line. It erupted with sod and earth, and flying horses and men. Horses screamed in pain and terror and Brent held his breath. His soldiers seemed to bend backwards and then, miraculously held strong. For a moment, cheers were louder than the cries of pain and death. Half the cavalry lay broken on the line. But line was weakened, and the soldiers struggled to right themselves against the enemy soldiers prodding the weakness.

  "Reserves," ordered Brent.

  The pipes blew a quick series of notes and the reserves, already anticipating the order, ran forward to bolster the weakened flank.

  "Good job, Major Crenshaw," murmured Brent. He glanced to Sibbald. "Good choice putting Bill in charge of the reserve."

  "Humph, wasn't a hard choice."

  Brent smiled and then scowled when he spotted the look on the Baron's face. The man was revelling in the mayhem in front of him. A look of lust filled his face and Brent caught James' eyes and tilted his chin toward the Baron.

  James looked over and gave Brent a look of worry.

  "Keep an eye on him," whispered Brent. James and Sibbald both nodded.

  The reserve joined the line and quickly filled the ranks. The line wavered with the newcomers until a balance was found and then held. Along the line the soldiers hacked at each other. The splintering sound of shields and the strike of metal on metal was high and piercing.

  Men and women moved forward and pulled the wounded free where they could. The wounded who could walk would stagger out of the line to be replaced by soldiers from the second or third ranks. Elsewhere, chirurgeons would dart forward to drag individuals out from the line regardless of what wounds they had. Entrails and limbs often followed their effort. Chirurgeons would jump forward and apply tourniquets, point toward their tents, or simply shake their head and move on.

  Steve Comlin had discussed how to use the chirurgeons with Brent one night at the Rigby farm. He mourned the loss of so many who could have been saved. "We need a way to get trained people up to the line to tend to the wounded. A great many simply bleed out who could be saved."

  Brent had never forgotten the conversation and had discussed it with his officers. It was Crenshaw who suggested the chirurgeons take a more active role. He had seen the mayhem at Jergen first hand. "Have them move forward and pull out the wounded. Saves our own men doing it, or watching their friends bleed out beside them. We have enough. Mark them with white armbands. Hopefully the enemy honours them and leaves them well enough alone."

  The enemy appeared to be honouring them. Except the Adham soldiers. They whirled and struck wherever they could. He feared they honoured little but themselves. Both flanks were hard pressed now against the superior numbers. Brent watched the Adham cavalry milling about across the field. They seemed to be readying for something.

  "Send in the second cavalry. Have them strike the enemy's left flank," ordered Brent.

  Brent heard Sibbald yell out to the pipers and drummers. The pipes changed their tune, and the drums beat out a complicated rhythm. The cavalry spewed up the grass and sped directly at the left flank. The left flank pushed hard once and then pulled back and split. The cavalry charged through the opening and plunged into the enemy flank. They burst through and a great cheer erupted across the field.

  The Adham Calvary appeared confused for a moment and then charged at speed. Brent watched his cavalry reform and then charge the enemy cavalry. They were on the other side of the line and charging at a full gallop. Swords whirled and glinted in the sun. Horse met horse and the sound of hundreds of pounds of flesh impacting and bones shattering filled the air. Swords flashed and bodies fell from horseback. Horses free of riders continued to run full speed in a straight line, some dragging their lifeless or wounded riders behind them.

  The cavalries shattered. What remained wheeled and charged again. Soon only a few horses and riders remained, and they stopped beside each other and hacked at one another until only a dozen Adham riders remained.

  "By God, what a waste," said Brent. "That was stupid."

  "By the Word! That was tremendous!" cried out the Baron.

  James caught Brent's eye. "A waste for certain, but they eliminated a threat. They did not die in vain."

  Brent grimaced and then nodded. Sibbald looked shocked at the loss.

  On the field, the armies of both sides were staggering in exhaustion. They could barely lift shield or sword. Those that did hit did little damage with no weight behind the swings.

  "Call for a rest," ordered Brent.

  The pipes soon called out a tune that any in the Realm would recognise. Both armies slowed down and separated a little. The Adham soldiers hesitated and then stepped back. The army of the Realm looked back at their leaders and soon an answering tune was heard in return. A dull cheer rose from both sides. Men and women reached down and pulled the wounded free of the carnage and retreated across the field. Mercy was given to those who asked. Chirurgeons from both sides raced from wounded to wounded. Reserves came forward with water and food.

  "Ask for an hour," stated Brent.

  The pipes queried, and an agreement was returned.

  The Baron did not look happy. Sibbald looked to speak to his Lordship, but Brent held up a hand and stopped him. "Let me," he called said. "Baron, a word in your tent, if you please."

  The hour passed all too quickly, and the lines reformed. The reserves were now gone and only half the cavalry remained. It looked much the same for the Army of the Realm except they continued to have greater numbers. The archers spent the hour crafting as many additional arrows as they could, but in an hour it wasn't much.

  The pipes called the attack, and the battle resumed. The arrows flew, shields blocked, some fell, and then the armies clashed again but with renewed energy. As suddenly as the clash was heard the enemy cavalry called a full charge and ran the centre of the line. As before the Turgany centre was not holding strong. Brent saw what was coming and called out but it was too late. The enemy had reacted too quickly. The cavalry ran over their own people and drove hard into the middle of the line. The soldiers were not ready and the cavalry burst through. Bodies flew left and right.

  Crenshaw on the field ordered the cavalry to respond just as the pipes began to repeat Brent's orders. Brent gripped the pommel of his horse and leaned forward. The cavalries met and separated. Too many, though Brent. Too many have fallen. We can't counter this. He considered ordering the archers to fire, but the combat was too close. He would be killing his own people. He looked to Sibbald and saw a horror there that mirrored his
own.

  He heard cries from behind him and his stomach lurched. They have flanked our rear. Some how they got behind us. He turned, drawing his sword, to face his doom and cried out in alarm as he spied dozens of bears and wolves running through the camp. They ran past him and charged into the enemy cavalry. They leapt up to the throats of horses, or took swings with massive claws. The eyes of the horses of the enemy turned white in fear and they reared and bolted. Why are our horses not reacting?

  He heard the thundering of horses behind him and looked back to see Steve Comlin leading his crew toward the battle. Steve raised his sword in salute and Brent laughed and brandished his own. "About time!" yelled out Brent.

  "Sorry," yelled back Steve as he thundered past a startled Baron. "Takes a while to round up bears and wolves..." and then he was gone and leading his crew toward the break in the line.

  Nineteen

  The Crossroads - end-August 901 A.C.

  MY DRAOI AND I had drawn power heavily from the land to run the entire way to the Crossroads from the farm. We lent our strength to the horses of the crew and they surged ahead and made exceptional time. We followed on foot and ran with the wind. Nadine remained in constant communion with Gaea and relayed the details of the battle from the eyes of the crows flying high overhead. We knew we were late but it couldn't be helped. In desperation, I had asked those with the greatest skill in working with the animals of the land to lend their aid.

  It turned out Gaea had been ahead of us. Dozens of bears and wolves were already gathering and heading to join the fight. I was pleased and saddened. It was not only man who would fight for the Realm, but the wildlife as well.

  On hearing we would be late, Steve had asked the draoi riding with him for a burst of speed and we gave it to him. He leaped ahead and Nadine reported he was now engaged on the front line and fighting to repair a break. I wasn't sure what that meant exactly and just nodded.