Indomitus Vivat (The Fovean Chronicles)

by Robert Brady

  “On the battle field, then,” I said to him. “Where you have better men to hide behind.”

  He started but Angry put a hand in front of him. No, this wasn’t going to happen. I laughed and I turned Blizzard around, Tartan next to me. I led my warriors back down the trail to the little village we’d made, my mind racing.

  To get at me, they were going to have to charge down the peninsula. They’d come in firing arrows from horseback, trying to keep us down. Then they’d engage us with their greater numbers at close quarters, where the peninsula would work against me. I needed to be able to move around against a light horse advance and I’d given that up for the inability to be surrounded.

  My archers were the old men and younger children who were part of my ‘tribe.’ Historically speaking, they’d been the archers throughout history once warfare started trying to be ‘modern.’ You put a lot of arrows in the air in the direction of your enemy and let them run into them – being an expert might be more impressive but in fact it works against you in the long run. Better to put ten barely-trained archers in place than one who took you years to train and years to replace.

  Say what you will – missiles take the grace out of combat, and turn it into a numbers game. I’d lose a numbers game pretty easily here.

  “Ware!” a Wolf Soldier shouted to me. It wasn’t J’her – I had left him to hold Eldador the Port. Dev Nevala held my left side, and Two Spears the right. I’d taken the horse – this was going to boil down to them.

  All eyes turned east and we saw a dust cloud and a wall of Andarans come trotting up over the horizon. They moved like a dark wave, warriors and horses together, not whooping and building up their own courage but angry and serious, knowing what they were riding into, knowing that the ones whom we were looking at right now were likely dead men, the first wave of the attack doomed to fall to whatever I had planned for them, and they were coming anyway.

  Warriors who’d rather be dead than give in to me.

  “All hands,” I shouted, turning my head left and right, mounted on Blizzard as I had been for most of the morning.

  Wolf Soldiers mounted up or took their places on our battlements. We’d improvised a little on the ‘small city,’ and created an earth wall with a ditch in front of it, which was going to be hell for them to get their horses over. I’d managed to port some wood over from the Confluni side of the lake we were on, using my new ships. We had spears that they wouldn’t be expecting, as well as extra arrows and bows and some other useful things.

  The ground started to shake a little as they got themselves moving. Wolf Soldiers were exchanging glances as they noticed it. Blizzard and some of the other horses snorted and stamped. My stallion likely knew what he was in for – this wasn’t his first rodeo.

  The wave came forward and we could hear a few war whoops from the middle – Andarans who thought that maybe they wouldn’t die. I could see the bows and the arrows now. Most were held down to conserve the elasticity of the wood. Some were cocked and ready, the warriors standing in their saddles, waiting for the command to fire.

  “Archers!” I shouted. My own Andarans pulled back, a few hundred of them. We’d given them some basic instruction on how to do this from my veterans.

  I waited for the Andarans to pass a couple flags I’d planted in the ground out past the battlements – the outer range of our bows. Likely they either didn’t notice them or didn’t care. I wanted the first rank to get past them, and shoot for the warriors right behind.

  My breath quickened. There was no sure outcome here – this was one of those fights that I might lose.

  They crossed the flags, one rank, two, three…

  “Loose!” I commanded.

  The air filled with the twang of the bow strings, the whistle of the arrows through the air. They arced gracefully over our heads, a few flying off the side useless, released improperly from children who barely knew one end from the other. Life was harder on the Andaran plains and kids learned to do these things earlier, but a kid is still a kid, and they knew what happened to conquered tribes.

  Several arrows flew back in return, warriors firing before the order was given. Their archers essentially used the same bows as we did – they would start firing as a group as soon as they realized that these arrows landed within our midst.

  Our arrows fell like rain into the front portion of their advancing army, past the first rows as I’d hoped. Theirs fell among us. I heard a few angry grunts. Other warriors scrambled for their shields on Dev and Two Spears’ orders. No point in just taking their fire.

  The Andarans picked up their pace and their arrows started coming sporadically. I waited. I wanted another few rows of Andarans to get past.

  “Pull!” I shouted, as the arrows started to patter down on our shields. More and more of them filled the air, landing among us and then against the front of our battlements, fired too early.

  “Loose!” I shouted, and our arrows flew out again, fewer mistakes this time.

  I’d had workers out digging in those plains. What I’d arranged for them was going to start happening soon.

  Arrows were hitting the ground about 100 feet in front of our own archers. I was going to get another shot in before I pulled them back. I had lined the horse up behind them.

  “Pull!” I shouted. There was clear fear and dissention in the archer ranks. They were starting to think I was going to let them take fire, and they would break. They weren’t warriors, they were civilians who’d come to me because they had nowhere else to go.

  The Andarans were picking up their pace now. They arrows were raining down on the warriors in the battlements. I was starting to lose troops.

  “Loose!” I commanded. The arrows flew out again – some of them off to the side. Their fear was getting to them.

  “Archers, retreat!” I ordered. They dropped their bows, turned and ran. I heard swearing from among the lancers. Who knew what they could be thinking- they’d just lost whatever means they had to defend themselves if the Wolf Soldiers failed.

  The Andaran riders were moving in at a gallop now, pummeling us with arrows. They’d reach the horse soon if something didn’t stop them.

  That’s when they hit the first trench in the ground outside of the ramparts.

  For three nights in a row, we’d trucked out our civilians to dig long, shallow trenches, and then fill them back with sod in order that they look like nothing more than an anomaly in the plains. When the Andaran front lines hit the unnatural dip in the ground, their horses stumbled both on the loose sod and the unexpected drop, becoming worse when the horses’ weight pushed the loose soil even farther down.

  It wasn’t a deep ditch – they’d have noticed that. It was just enough to surprise a running horse and a rider standing in his stirrups, firing arrows.

  Hundreds stumbled, and the line following behind them at a sizeable gap both crashed into them, or stopped in time and were themselves crashed into the riders behind them. The whole situation repeated itself behind, where the force of the charge folded in on itself, or ahead, where those who managed to push through hit another dip in the ground, and the whole thing happened again to a smaller degree.

  “Charge!” I ordered my Wolf Soldiers, driving my heels into Blizzard’s sides. The white stallion leapt forward, the lancers behind me following. Our front lines opened up at the center where we’d built a wall of half cut timbers that my front line could push out over the ditch just outside of our ramparts. Shela used her magic to strengthen this make-shift bridge as we thundered over it three at-a-time, into the churning mass which had been a well-instituted charge by the Andarans.

  The hardship for my lancers was to face Andaran mounted archers. That advantage was gone now. My Wolf soldier foot began to pick up and throw spears we’d cut from the Confluni timber we’d ported from the other side of the lake. Warriors and horses screamed as we rode out and met them, still outnumbered as many as five-to-one.

  The lance under my right arm jumped bac
kwards as it engaged the breastbone of the first Andaran who got in my way. It shattered against the second. Thundering to the left of the Andaran mass, I pulled Blizzard to the outside of the three columns of lancers which flowed out of Wisex. Another lancer replaced me and struck another Andaran, and another, and then a third before his lance also shattered and he pulled to the outside beside me, replaced by another lancer.

  Down the column as we wrapped the Andarans from the left, the lancers followed suit. Strike from the inside of the charging column until your lance broke, and then pull out and let another warrior replace you. Meanwhile we pressed the perimeter, closing in on the Andarans, adding to their confusion as some tried to engage us and some tried to get out of our way. I and the lancers around me all without our lances now, we pressed on with our swords out, slashing the Andarans as we passed, killing them and their horses as they began to get their mounts under control and small groups of them tried to rally.

  Lightening crackled in the air above us. Fireballs arched out from behind the Andaran lines.

  Shela met them from our own. I didn’t know how long she could hold out, how badly outnumbered she might be. In the rest of Fovea her style of magic came as a complete surprise. Here is where she learned it; here were the people who’d taught her what she knew. I’d told her not to try to fight them, just conserve her energy and block what they try to do. It’s much easier to disrupt a magical attack than to originate one.

  The lightening discharged harmlessly above us. The fireballs fell as ash.

  We’d wrapped a fourth of the Andarans and my lancers were still pouring out of our ‘gate’. The Andarans themselves were pulling back or simply dying to our lancers where we’d stopped them at the second ditch in the ground. We were having to move farther and farther forward to find fresh targets for them.

  Dev Nevala’s foot soldiers pressed forward over the ramparts, engaging the Andarans on the right hand side before they could prepare for us. They moved forward in classic squads, shields in front and pikes bristling from behind, swords stabbing at the Andaran horse that came too close. Dev’s troops became a wall to push the Andarans against.

  In front of me an entire tribe of Andarans had managed to break off from the mass and their leader could be seen rallying them, lining them up to face the continuing charge. Hundreds strong, they’d seen what we were doing and knew they had to stop us before we could get half way around the Andaran main force and then turn and press them on two sides. That would force their warriors to meet us one-to-one while their own front lines kept the mass of their numbers from engaging.

  “Wolf Soldiers to the ‘fore!” I commanded, slowing Blizzard’s charge. The lancers around me spread out into a line, first three across, then six, then twelve, increasing in number and being supplied by the charging Wolf Soldier lancers behind us.

  I ordered one of Two Spears’ lieutenants to hold back and siphon off 200 for my uses, but to keep the mainstay of our forces encircling the Andarans. It wouldn’t help us to have a break here, or to leave the main force of the enemy alone to recollect themselves. Even now, most of them couldn’t decide whether to attack the lancers, to pull back or to just wait for orders.

  My lancers were 50 across and two ranks deep when I ordered them forward. By then the Andarans were moving as well, some with arrows but most not. Very few of my own riders had their lances intact – this was going to be a bloody hand-to-hand with a veteran opponent which outnumbered me. My troops stretched almost to the beach at the edge of the peninsula, and almost to the line of charging lancers emanating from our battlements. At least the enemy had to face me one-to-one and would have a hard time flanking me.

  They started to scream and whoop and fire arrows. A horse went down right next to Blizzard with an arrow in his throat. Another arrow pinged off of the front of my armor.

  Blizzard put his head down and stretched his legs, outdistancing the other horses. As I drew closer, I couldn’t recognize the tribe except to say that I didn’t think it was the Bears. I wouldn’t be meeting Black Hawk here.

  Too bad.

  Our warriors clashed. My sword decapitated one man and cut the arm from another. A scimitar screeched across my mid-section but didn’t get to me. Blizzard shouldered another stallion facing him to one side and I straight-armed his rider with my left hand, knocking him to the ground where the warriors behind me likely trampled him.

  I didn’t check to be sure. Before I would have thought possible I was through their lines and emerging from the other side, wheeling the stallion to the left to line him up for another pass.

  About half of my lancers had made it with me. We wheeled and started trotting back toward the enemy. Thanks to Two Spears’ training, every warrior wheeled to the left, minimizing our recovery for the second pass. All of them did it at about the same time. The back row became the front, the group of us, though depleted, worked as a unit.

  The Andarans facing us had lost far more warriors than we had, and now they were in a tangle. As soon as a few of them realized that we were charging again, a few turned their horses toward us while most tried to collect themselves. Horses bumped each other, reared and fought their riders. Their leader screamed orders in shrill Andaran as we picked up a canter.

  We rode down the few riders who’d come out to meet us and then hit the rest of them at least as hard as before. Horses screamed and warriors swore and died. Once again modern warfare, the time spent training the warriors who engaged each other, prevailed. Where archers could get by just putting missiles in the air, the horse moving as one delivered unimaginable punishment to the unready enemy.

  When we passed through them this time it took longer. When we found ourselves on the other side, we met another hundred fresh riders lined up as we had been, and we outnumbered our enemy, a good portion of whom threw down their weapons and headed for the plains.

  Back at the main battle, we were nearly half way around the Andarans, who had begun to collect themselves. Half of Two Spears’ infantry were marching out to support us, many of them carrying bundles of fresh lances. Dev’s warriors were taking a beating on the far side of Andaran mass but where holding, which was all I needed them to do. A wave of pure flame flowed off of the plains toward us and evaporated before it reached our lines. The earth shook and then stopped.

  My riders were beginning to disengage the enemy and line up in two files facing the Andarans, waiting for their lances. Very soon we’d begin a final charge into their midst.

  I saw Angry Lion at the center of them now. He was screaming at his warriors and telling them to line up like we were, to meet us ready and to fire their arrows. Other tribal leaders were shouting contradicting orders and, just as the first of my Wolf Soldiers began handing out the first of the fresh lances, an entire section of Andarans, over one hundred strong, turned East and departed as fast as they could.

  My orders were to let them go. I wasn’t here to slaughter, just to survive.

  When the desertions started the Andaran confidence started to shake. They still outnumbered me by at least three to one. I’d lost warriors as well, but their dead littered the ground and actually limited where they could move easily.

  Andarans were starting to take Angry Lion’s orders and to line themselves up toward us. Another chieftain or some important Andaran was pulling troops away from Dev’s front in order to focus more on us. As I had done so many times, they’d realized that it was better to fight two smaller enemies than to address them both at the same time.

  I pulled the collapsible bow from my thigh – the one I’d taken from Genna what seemed so long ago – and I pointed it into the air. It fired, arcing over the Andarans, and then it burst into green flame. Shela has placed a simple enchantment on it before the battle began.

  Almost no one on the Andaran side reacted to it.

  Then arrows by the hundreds flew out of the swaying plains grass to the southeast. Nina had gone back to her people and told them that I might need them on the plains, eve
n before I’d fought my first battle here. Krell had responded as soon as he could. Fortunately, as Nina had told me when I rode out onto the plains that night and she’d leaped up onto Blizzard’s butt, it had been soon enough.

  The Andarans were taken completely by surprise by the Aschire archers. More to the point, when they recognized whom they were up against, a third of them turned tail and ran for the east, leaving the rest to face me on three fronts.

  I reached down and accepted a lance from a grinning Wolf Soldier, my warriors with me.

  All that was left to do now was to call the advance.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Empire

  Very few battles are ever fought to the last warrior, although I’d certainly seen my share. At some point, even the worst commander or whoever outlived him realizes that all hope is lost and it’s time to run and fight another day.

  By the time the Andarans came to that conclusion, I clearly outnumbered them. The Andaran may have thought that the first skirmish should have been perfunctory – just a ‘getting to know you’ battle where we felt out each others’ weaknesses. This would give their tribes the opportunity to learn to work together and their chieftains time to argue over the things that were important to them.

  Me hitting them so hard on the first pass had caught them by surprise, but then when you think about it, that’s a pretty important thing to do if you want to survive the kind of crazy crap that I did.

  I couldn’t have done it without the help of the Aschire. Once again, my purple-haired allies had come to my rescue when I needed them, not that they needed a lot of prodding to come after the Andarans who raided their forest for wood.

  I rode out into the plains on the night after the battle, where scavengers were eating dead horses and dead warriors from both sides. The place stank of rotting flesh and excrement, of blood and urine and wet steel. I pushed Blizzard through this, past the occasional Andaran family looking for a familiar body, and out into the open where the Aschire were camped.