The remainder of the camp was made of straight lines. One side of the camp displayed the banners of purple and silver for Sileoth while the blue celitrose flower on plaid revealed Maris. Despite the division in camp, the two armies were truly becoming one. Like any grouping of companies, order by forces was common. Getting mixed in a battle changed what proper divisions could do as a whole. The center tents with both nations’ flags were the truth of it. The two nations were working as one against a greater threat. Egos had been thrown out the window long ago.
Noting a third set of banners in blue and white, the knights of Cadmene occupied the rear center with their horses. If a fight began from the front or sides, they could slip out the back and bring a charge into an enemy from around the camp. It was another smaller army in the midst of the others, but just one more that had the same goal as the other two.
With a trio of Blackguards leading his score of soldiers, the leader being Iylin, Gerid had little difficulty entering the encampment. Though the generals expected them, the guards would have been sure to slow them down otherwise. Led through the only wide point, like a castle’s gate, the men on horse slowly followed the ebon clothed hunters.
Soldiers could be heard chattering about the new guests almost immediately. The white haired giant leading the score of Holtein armored mercenaries was the center of most talk. It was common for him unfortunately. At six foot eight, Gerid would tower over most normal men. Atop his black stallion brought from Hala’s military stables, he appeared a juggernaut of immense proportions.
At the main tent’s mouth, he and Finneas dismounted to enter. Gerid found himself ducking as he entered though the interior sloped upwards quickly enough that he could straighten once more after a few steps. The men inside all gave a start despite the announcement of visitors.
“Greetings, gentlemen,” the commander said with a smile. “I am glad to finally be standing here with you all.”
General Falack stepped forward from the other four men arrayed beside him. Grey hair looking as if it needed a cut but beard trimmed freshly, the general was the tallest of the men and still he found himself looking up more than half a foot as he shook the younger man’s hand. “I am General Falack, of Maris. My fellow generals, Lionoet from Sileoth,” he gestured towards a middle aged man in the purple and orange of his nation’s army. “General Tremale, my second in command for Maris,” he included another dark haired man of middle years in the green and orange plaid that Falack also wore. “Our last member, General Terris, the former king of Cadmene, our advisor and friend,” he finished with the dark haired man whose rough recent history had brought grey to his hair. Shortest of the men, Gerid noted shrewd eyes in the last man. Intelligence that defied them all, he thought.
Bowing slightly, the commander introduced himself, “Sir Gerid Aramathea, knight of Rhearden, admiral of the largest fleet, Protector of Rhearden and former son of Marshalla. I am here to defeat Merrick and end his tyranny. I have lead roughly fifteen thousand soldiers here, though fifteen hundred knights would gladly rejoin their former king,” he said nodding towards Terris and smiled at the man’s surprise. “They and your family send greetings, King Terris.”
With a rueful smile, Terris replied, “I appreciate their greetings, but I am no longer king.”
The giant shrugged. “You are to them. Cadmene has overthrown those left to hold it captive. Your son rules and strengthens the kingdom for your return, sir. Your daughter may have sent word. We have Hala and no army remains for Merrick to call on to save his own.”
Eyes narrowing in thought, Terris asked, “And do you know what has happened with the gargoyles and dragons he held in his army?”
A big smile painted the white haired
commander’s face. “Kar’esh and I came to terms. Your nephew Baitrum and my sister met with others of his race. The remainder of the mar’goyn’lya and che’ther have come to our world and moved north to find new homes. They told of a practice of their kind that over rules contracts between Kar’esh and Merrick. I merely had to duel their commander and win after setting the conditions that would be decided. I hope they held their end and left?”
The generals all registered varied levels of surprise. Falack spoke for them all, “You dueled their leader? Such madness and yet you look as fit as if you had spent a month in leisure. We had word that their leader was wounded and looked to have gone through a war. How did you manage such a thing?”
“The gods have blessed me with more than just size. I am well trained and strong. Kar’esh put up a good fight, but in the end I won and he was taken from the battle field.”
Finneas’ eyes lit up with the zeal of the first days they had met, “My lord, is Turas’ right hand! No one can defeat him in battle.”
Waving the man’s enthusiasm off, with a pat on the shoulder, Gerid nearly blushed with the praise. “Please forgive my captain’s remarks. It was a rather grand battle, I guess.”
“He broke the beast’s arm and skewered him, but my lord is merciful and left him alive and treatable. That gargoyle won’t soon forget the White Haired Demon, I bet!”
“Finneas, please,” Gerid warned with a sigh. That he had taken his share of damage and showed no sign of the wounds was not something he needed these men to know. In fact, trying to make them believe he had won a duel was probably pushing matters as it was.
Shaking his head, Terris took things back in hand. “Well, however you did it, we are grateful. An army of fifteen thousand nearly equals our forces here. Together I think we can end Merrick’s reign as well. Without the gargoyles and dragons, we are nearly on an equal ground.”
“His supply lines are cut, the strength of this army is all you have to fear now,” Gerid nodded.
“It is still something to fear and respect,” General Falack stated with an echo of agreement from the other generals. “Even with the soldiers you bring we will be outnumbered, but Terris has worked with us and has devised a plan, if you are willing to hear it.”
With a smile on his face, the commander nodded. “You have the knowledge of this place and Merrick’s forces that I do not. I will gladly hear your suggestions.”
Terris led the way to Falack’s desk of maps for all the men. He then led them through his audacious plan.
Chapter 49- Battle of Calmaris
The valley of Calmaris lay a mere day’s hard riding away from the border of fallen Caldor. A mile wide at its largest and more than two miles long, the valley lay between the forested hills and revealed an army. The late morning sunlight touched purple and silver banners along with nearly twice as many blue celitrose flowers on plaid. The blue and white banners of Cadmene were
represented merely by one flag near the rear with the generals and their guards.
Merrick and his generals sat their horses on a hill to the north taking in the sight. “They must be getting low on supplies or perhaps they have merely grown sick of running,” the High King stated in near triumph. “That appears to be nearly everything they have left am I not correct, generals?”
“All but those turn coat knights, sire,” General Bragus stated surprisingly quickly. The generals had all been on egg shells since the disappearance of Kar’esh’s forces. This apparent last stand had lightened Merrick’s mood enough that they once more felt reasonably secure in giving their opinions, though should they lose now, none would live with failure. “They are staged uphill giving them a slight advantage and they may have stashed the knights in the hills for a surprise charge. We can counter them easily with keeping the long spear corps on either flank if we wish to charge them, your highness.”
“We could send smaller divisions into the hills to flush them out or even catch them by surprise. Perhaps we’ll catch them by surprise or there may be none at all, then it will be our forces that can use the hills to destroy their flanks,” General Mairgar added contemplating the possibility of two thousand knights hidden in the forests.
General Komus nodded adding, “We have them o
ut numbered more than two to one. There are five golems at their center so their wizards must have survived enough to assist with those. We can send troops with rope and snare their legs ending their threats quick enough. There is the possibility of them running away once more, of course. If we follow Mairgar’s tactics and flank our enemy while flushing out any ambushes, then we may finally catch them in our own trap.”
The High King looked contemplative a long moment. “So we can expect a trap or possible feint. Let’s send enough men through both sets of hills that nothing they can hide can hope to defeat them. Have the most portable catapults brought down to knock those statues to pieces.
“I will end this today. The flanking armies will be given time to get around the enemy while we assemble the main army opposing them. If we can distract them with our main forces, we might get our own trap to spring,” Merrick finished looking determined.
Mairgar and Bragus moved to the chosen divisions to begin the first moves even as Komus waited with the high king.
The bronze rose flew from the banners of the mass assembled across the valley from the allied armies. Horses drew eight sizable catapults of a wheeled design meant to be portable enough to take into the field. Towering pieces, the catapults had wagons of large stone ready to assault the monoliths facing them from the enemy force. Drums and horns began to play from the back of the Marshallan lines and soon the mass began to move to the beats. Clad in brown and bearing the bronze or yellow rose on their chests, it was like the earth itself rolled towards the allies.
Acting as if the hills were not alive with their fellow soldiers, the Marshallan army pressed forward with their eyes on the enemy at the far end. The allies in response bristled into life. The assembly of drummers and flutes in Maris and Sileoth’s lines set the cadence to move forward as well.
Merrick smiled. Even with sending nearly ten thousand troops in the two armies to the hills, his army still appeared to nearly double the pathetic forces arrayed against him. He would win or they would run again, but he hoped his armies had moved far enough to make their way into a pincer that would not let go until nothing remained of his enemies.
Looking to the sun, it was nearing midday. The two armies closed leaving merely a quarter mile between them and paused. In the wait, the first of the catapults launched the first stones to end the war.
General Bragus led his five thousand men from the safety of the rear. Using his spyglass along with his captains and lieutenants, he noticed a gleam from armor not quite dulled enough to be missed for those looking. A grim smile crossed his face. Giving orders quietly, the division changed course and spread itself out to widen their lines. Another glint from a little ways from the first let him know that he was judging correctly.
Wanting to shout, the men held their voices until they were nearly upon their quarry. Men could be seen on horseback. The knights had hidden in wait as they thought. The horsemen would be doomed in this brush.
The signal was given and the men rushed towards the visible knights and those hidden. Horsemen could be seen to react and turn. This was no new ruse to the general. He had them now despite their attempt to retreat and if there were more in the southern hills he knew Mairgar would do his best to catch them as well.
Shouts rang out. Metal clanged and then the screams of dying men. The knights still sat their horses. Bragus suddenly felt worry. How could they sit their steeds so calmly when five thousand men were attacking them?
The brush around him suddenly came alive. Soldiers in partially concealed red armor were suddenly in their midst killing his men. Drawing their own weapons, the general and his guards found themselves in a fight to the death as more and more red soldiers seemed to drop among them.
From straight ahead of the general, a vision of a white haired giant reared up. He wore no helmet. The monster needed none as his battleaxe cut a swath of destruction through the brown armored soldiers around him. Like an executioner’s axe, the giant tore through the screaming men heedless of the blood and flesh spraying before him.
Whitening with fear, Bragus ran. None of his soldiers or guards tried to stop him. Their general was lost in the chaos of a routed army. Blindly, the remainder of the northern hill division ran to try and save their lives.
In the distance, drums, horns and flutes played oblivious to the destruction in the hills. Glinting from the hilltops, a light played in measured marks. Terris spotted first the light from the north confirming their ambush succeeded, and then the south began to send its similar message.
The drums played. The flutes trilled valiantly and Terris nodded to General Falack to proceed.
From behind the relative safety of the front lines, nearly three thousand archers raised their long bows and let fly. So strong were the bows, that despite their distance from the enemy, the Maris bowmen sent their cloud of arrows across the space and the soldiers of Marshalla were forced to raise shields against the volley of deadly shafts.
Another rock sped across the way to batter a golem. The giant piece of animated stone swatted the boulder as it neared, but the creature still paid a price. Soldiers too near the impact received shards of stone shrapnel gleaned from boulder and statue both.
New signals started the army into a march of readied warriors. Shields up and swords in hand, the first wave of allied soldiers chased down the slight hill. The Marshallans recovered from the first volley of arrows and surged forward to meet their enemies.
A second swarm darkened the skies forcing the men to raise their shields even as they tried to run forward. More men were injured by the arrows. Many soldiers fell never to arise again.
Marshallan archers retaliated as their enemies entered their bows’ range taking down many more from the front line of their attackers.
Even as the two sides met with a crash, the hills to the south and north began to show movement. Soldiers in red poured down from both sides. Even as Merrick and Komus saw the new army running down the hills, it took a moment to realize what was happening. These were not the brown of the ten thousand. A new force had joined without their knowledge. Who they were mattered little. All the High King needed to know was that these were not his men and that meant a new enemy had arrived from nowhere to join his enemies.
“Archers attack the hills!” ordered the harried High King. “Komus, our ambushers have failed.”
The general looked pale. The enemy had baited them in and surprised them with numbers and troops they had not known about. Ten thousand men had gone up. Had they all fallen? Nearly a fifth of their army just gone and this new set of soldiers looked to be near a size of the allies forces as well.
“Knights!” voices cried out spotting the horsemen first on the one hill then on the other.
“There are more of them,” Merrick snarled. “How did they get more reinforcements? Those blasted Cadmene traitors!”
“Spearmen to the flanks!” the general ordered his men to signal the outer specialists into action.
The armies crashed together.
The knights saw the threat and continued to circle as the red armies caught up to the horsemen. The arrows hadn’t made much of a dent in their number by the time they met the Marshallan flanks. They tore into the regular soldiers that turned to meet them, but they spread quickly to attack the long spears. The specialists were forced to drop their awkward weapons or find their spears parried and shoved out of the way as the red army slashed through their defenses.
Arrows flew over head from all sides taking their toll on the interior numbers of the brown armor. The bronze roses turned red as more bled. The red army from the north was most vicious. Spearheaded by the white haired giant, they tore deep into the flank. The first of the catapults went inactive before catching fire, the flames serving to split the soldiers around them.
Gnashing his teeth in frustration, the High King glared at Komus. “Do something!” he snarled.
“These red soldiers are destroying our men. They’re better fighters than our own soldiers,
at least the ones with the giant from the north are. I can call on the reserves to try and reinforce the north.”
“Do it already!” Merrick ordered in frustration. They still had the numbers. A golem was down to equal his burning catapult, he noticed.
The first of the Cadmene knights struck from the south. The spears all but neutralized, the lances sporting the blue and white streamers drove into the rear flank. The reserves were caught in the middle. Chaos erupted. The reinforcements were broken into less cohesive groups suddenly fighting red armored soldiers and the blue and white of the Cadmene knights.
The second catapult caught fire.
Two of the golems surged past the lines of the allies and struck the southern mass of the brown army. The catapults couldn’t load fast enough. Each of the golems disabled one of the portable rock throwers.
“Where are those blasted ropes?” Merrick cried out furious at Komus.
The general pointed. “They’ve begun to snare that one. The men need to work together to make them work.”
Three men holding a line were whipped into the air. Landing in the mass of the Marshallan army, they were quickly lost to sight. The ropes were being used too slowly on creatures many times stronger than men.
Another catapult was destroyed by a golem even as the northern red army set fire to their third. The brown of Marshalla tried to fill in behind the small band led by the white haired demon. Even surrounded, the forty or so soldiers continued to move through their enemies at the speed of the giant’s axe. No man could stand before the executioner’s blade for long. They were mere wheat to his scythe.
The High King: A Tale of Alus Page 51
