Erdelin was about the say something, when Zulfa raised a restraining hand. “I know they will argue that such a mobilization to reinforce us will strip their province of protection from the other clans, but I doubt the clans will focus on anything except us. I’ll send riders to Parthmal to warn our garrison there to be alert. Their position is good enough to stop the islanders for a few days until either the Eywellese are gathered in strength or we arrive. I also expect general Akuyun will dispatch what forces he can to meet us.”
Zulfa looked down at the map spread before them. “We’ll head northwest to the Bayrin River and hit it about here.” His finger indicated a bend where the river turned sharply west. “This point is thirty miles to our rear. Once we reach the river, we can use it to protect one flank. The river is too wide for their horsemen to charge across before we could react. That will let our infantry march in a three-sided defensive formation with wounded, supply wagons, and other auxiliaries in the middle. The river will also provide water, so it won’t have to be carried with us. This route will add twenty to thirty miles but will be the safest.”
Zulfa turned to his other two immediate sub-commanders. “Ketin, you’ll take half of the remaining infantry to screen our left column of march and oversee the auxiliaries within our formation. Metan, you have the rest of the infantry and the other half of the artillery. Your infantry will be on our right, with the artillery following behind the auxiliaries. Once we reach the river, you’ll fall back as our rear guard. We’ll also keep our heavy cavalry to the rear to discourage direct attacks by clan horsemen and keep the dust out of our infantry’s lungs as much as possible. They’ll be stressed enough moving as fast as we need to.”
Zulfa looked around, waiting for questions. There were none, and he concluded. “Colonels, I expect this army to be repositioned and moving in twenty minutes.”
The clans didn’t yet realize it, but the battle of Moreland City was over.
Chapter 33: Victory?
Or Standoff?
The Tri-Alliance men reassembled, once well out of Narthani cannon range. Horseless riders were matched to riderless horses, ownership to be determined later. Scattered men found their clans and assigned groups, and medicants finished retrieving the wounded. They were exuberant from the extent of their victory, and adrenaline had yet to flush from their veins—until they passed within view of the Moreland charge results. Acre after acre of Moreland men’s and horses’ bodies littered the ground. The Narthani had finally stopped shelling any attempts to retrieve the dead and the wounded, and medicants searched among the carnage.
Fortunately, Seabiscuit needed no guidance to follow the other horses. Yozef accompanied the withdrawal and reassembly, oblivious to his surroundings. He felt drained, his body coming down from the last hours, and his head throbbed under the makeshift bandage. Carnigan grabbed a medicant, who checked Yozef’s head laceration, pronounced it minor, and closed the gash with eight stitches, each of which hurt more than the original wound.
They found Culich and the other Keelan leaders gathered at their original position. Culich saw Yozef and started toward him. Then a rider pulled up, leaned down from his saddle, and handed Culich a message. He read it once, then revealed the contents.
“From Hetman Stent. His observers on the northern ridgeline report the Narthani are withdrawing to the west back toward Eywell. Clan leaders are called to Hetman Orosz’s flag.” Culich looked up, his eyes full of wonder. “I can hardly believe it. I confess I doubted we could drive them back. May God forgive me my doubts.”
Shouts of jubilation rang out among all within earshot, and the word quickly spread throughout the Keelanders and continued several minutes before Culich quieted those around him.
“There are still things to do. Let’s see to the men and horses. Vortig, Pedr, Denes, and Yozef, come with me to the hetman meeting Orosz has called.” Culich glanced at Yozef, eyed the uncovered stitched gash still seeping blood, and nodded.
Half an hour later, they met at the same building as the day before. Clansmen clustered around the building, along with horses held or staked farther away. All of the men talked until the Keelanders and their allies rode up, then voices trailed away. Culich’s guards held the Keelanders’ horses, while they went inside. As they walked to the front door, men stepped aside, word having spread how the Tri-Alliance portion of the battle had been decisive.
The Keelanders and their allies were the last to arrive. Several hetmen rose to shake Culich’s hand or clasp forearms and slap him on the back. Orosz waited until Culich sat. “You’ve all heard the news that the Narthani are withdrawing. Unless there are objections, I suggest we hear summaries of today’s battle, first from Hetman Stent and then Hetman Keelan.”
“I’ll report what I and my clansmen have observed,” Hetman Stent began. “First, the charge toward the Narthani line this morning. You remember we were to pretend to carry out a mass attack at three points on their line to see how the Narthani would react and also whether the Eywellese could be lured out of their position, thus exposing the Narthani left. Our position was to the right of Moreland, who led the center group. We charged as planned, and I was to take my cue from Moreland. When we reached where we should turn and ride back and forth across their front, just outside musket and canister range, I watched Moreland for his signal. At first, I thought the signal would come any second, then I saw him raise his sword toward the Narthani. That’s when I realized he intended to carry out the charge.”
Despite most of the men already knowing what had happened, hearing it from Stent brought forth curses.
“I hesitated too long, then signaled my clansmen and we turned as planned. However, my delay put us in range of the Narthani fire, and some of my men were too far to the front and didn’t see my signal. I’m afraid some watched the Morelanders more than our own leadership. As a result, Stent suffered forty casualties from the first Narthani volleys.”
Grim-faced Hetman Hewell spoke up. “Hewell had seventy casualties. I didn’t respond as fast as Hetman Stent.”
“I’ve spoken with the senior Moreland leaders still alive,” Stent continued. “Gynfor Moreland and both of his sons are dead, and the surviving leaders are afraid there are also more than a thousand Moreland men dead.”
“Merciful God!” and “Oh God!” were among the exclamations, along with more gasps of shock and anger.
“Damn Gynfor Moreland to eternal darkness!” shouted a bitter Hetman Bultecki. “Moreland getting killed due to stupidity and arrogance is nothing but a blessing, but to take so many of his clansmen with him, damn him!”
Orosz spat to one side in agreement. “No Moreland representative is here because they’re trying to deal with this catastrophe and decide who can represent them.”
The recriminations and anger continued until Orosz brought them back to the moment. “Let’s finish the reports. Hetman Stent, please continue.”
“The second report is from observers I placed on top of the high ridgeline. The Narthani are withdrawing as fast as their infantry can march toward Eywell and Preddi. Obviously, for them the invasion of Moreland is over.” With that, Stent sat.
“Thank you. Hetman Keelan?” said Orosz.
Culich rose. “As bad as the news is about the Moreland charge, I think we can take solace that we drove the Narthani back to their base territory. The effort to see if we could entice the Eywellese screening the Narthani right flank to leave their position worked better than I expected, and about two-thirds of them followed Hetman Eywell into an ambush commanded by Denes Vegga.” Culich gestured to Denes standing behind him. “At this point I had little direct observation of the action, so I’ll let Ser Vegga describe what happened.”
Denes, still begrimed with dirt and powder from the day’s fighting, cleared his throat. “Hetman Keelan led the Eywellese into our ambush. We opened fire with muskets and three new artillery pieces made by Yozef Kolsko. We took the Eywellese completely by surprise, and many of the Eywellese chasing ou
r hetman died in the ambush. More were killed by Tri-Alliance horsemen who cut off their retreat. Our mounted clansmen then killed or dispersed the rest of the Eywellese guarding the Narthani flank. We had planned that if the opportunity arose, we’d attack the end Narthani block. I’ll not go into detail, but our attack was successful, and we annihilated that block of infantry. Our horsemen then overran their artillery position, and we turned some of those guns against the next Narthani block, destroying it and possibly one other block. We estimate the Eywellese dead at a thousand and about the same number of Narthani. At this point, the Narthani pulled back other blocks to form a new line facing us, and we could see their artillery setting up and cavalry approaching, so we withdrew.”
Denes quit speaking. The room was silent while the clan leaders absorbed the report, their previous dismay morphing into grim satisfaction.
“Somehow I suspect this summary doesn’t do Ser Vegga and his men enough credit,” Hetman Adris said. “To accomplish what they did in so short a time I find amazing, and we all owe Keelan, Gwillamer, Mittack, and especially Denes Vegga our deepest thanks.”
“Here, here,” voiced sitting hetmen and standing men, to the accompaniment of fists pounding the table and feet the floor.
Denes appeared to want to say something but looked to Culich for permission. Culich nodded.
“Thank you for your comment, Hetman Adris. Naturally, I accept them for all the Tri-Alliance men who fought this day. I also must point out that the original ideas for our plan came from Yozef Kolsko.” Denes gestured to Yozef standing beside him. “It was both his advice on the plan and his actions with ours and the Narthani artillery that deserve major credit for the victory today.”
Many in the room looked with curiosity at Yozef. A number knew something of him, some only from rumors, and the rest had never heard of him.
“I agree with Ser Vegga’s comments about Yozef Kolsko,” Culich concurred. “His advice turned out to be uncannily accurate, both in the attempt to lure the Eywellese and to attack the Narthani’s unprotected flank. And don’t forget his warning about a direct attack on the Narthani line. We all saw the result when Moreland tried it.”
“That was Moreland attacking alone,” interjected Hetman Pewitt. “That allowed the Narthani to concentrate all their fire on one clan. What if we had attacked across the entire front? Might not the entire Narthani line have collapsed, and we could have killed them all and ended their threat forever?”
Several hetmen dismissed or belittled Pewitt’s question, but it was Stent who snarled an answer.
“Did you see what happened to Moreland?! They were not just shot from their horses, but most horses and men were hit multiple times. I saw men’s bodies hit five or more times. If we had all charged, they would have had to spread their fire out over a broader front, which means those killed might have been hit only two or three times, instead of five or six. And, remember, their horsemen never came into play. If they had fired at all the clans at once, I suspected their horses, plus the Selfcellese and the Eywellese, would have rolled through our survivors, and our total losses would have been so bad, we might never have recovered.”
Culich interrupted before an argument started. “We can argue such points forever. For now, we should discuss what to do next.”
“What’s to do next?” questioned Hetman Hewell. “The Narthani are retreating, which was our objective. Are you suggesting we should try to engage them in more battles?”
Culich grunted. “I understand your question, Lordum. For myself, and I believe most or all of you, there was never any thought for what we would do in the situation we find ourselves. Our focus was just surviving this day.”
He stopped and glanced behind him. “Ser Kolsko has given priceless advice so far, so I now wonder if he might have more insights or suggestions to share with us?”
Culich turned in his seat to the men standing behind him.
Yozef was still recovering: from the adrenaline that had coursed through his veins, first in fear, then as he became obsessed with details of the battle and especially the artillery, and finally in reaction to the head wound. He stood beside Denes and right behind Culich, concentrating on his throbbing head. Nothing said so far at the meeting had penetrated the fog. All eyes were on him, and there was silence. After a few moments, Denes elbowed him sharply.
Yozef’s eyes cleared, and he looked questioningly at Denes. “What?”
“Hetman Keelan asked you if you had any thoughts about the victory today and what might come next.”
Yozef looked surprised at Culich and then around the room. He had heard the earlier reports, but they hadn’t registered with his consciousness, until now. He licked his lips and tried to focus.
“The Narthani are withdrawing but aren’t destroyed. I suspect they’re surprised, even a little shocked at what happened today. Although today was a great victory, it’s not the end of the Narthani.”
He stopped talking and looked uneasily around the room, feeling the eyes of clan leaders pressing on him.
I wonder if I should tell them we might have used up all of our luck? Or perhaps that idiot Moreland deserves most of the credit? If the Narthani hadn’t focused on the Morelanders, they likely would have responded faster, and the results could have been far different.
He decided there was no reason for gloom—yet. The clans could use some confidence. They would need it for the next Narthani moves.
“They’re returning to secure territory. We still can’t face them in a field battle, because they have more experience and cannon. What should be done is to harass them as long as possible. With your greater mobility, you can easily get ahead of them to set ambushes and pick off scouts and small patrols. Anything you can do to reduce their numbers will help in the future and further dishearten their men. The more they respect you as fighters, the less effective they’ll be. I also wonder if there’s an opportunity to damage some of their infrastructure, such as supplies or smaller outposts.”
“Parthmal,” asserted Stent. “We know they have a base at Parthmal in Eywell not five miles from the Moreland border. I’ve secretly had men scouting the area. There’s a small Narthani force there, along with Eywellese, and it appears to be the supply base for this invasion. If a large enough number of clansmen could get there before the Narthani army arrives, we might be able to destroy it and force the Narthani farther back into Eywell territory. There may also be supplies, such as weapons that could be captured for our use. Hanslow, the Eywellese capital, is not much farther, but there’ll likely be too many Narthani, plus fortifications, for us to attempt an attack there.”
Two hours of argument and discussion followed, taking into account Yozef’s suggestions and who would do what under whose command. He didn’t contribute more to the planning and instead leaned against the back wall, then sat on a chair when Denes noticed him unsteady on his feet. However, he listened with discouragement at the lack of an overall command structure. Committees would not defeat the Narthani.
Finally, the hetmen decided Stent and Hewell would take Yozef’s three hybrid field pieces and three of the captured Narthani 12-pounder cannon, along with enough volunteers from the surviving artillerymen to train others en route and push hard to Parthmal to take the town before either the Narthani army got there or the forces there knew what was happening. Both clans had suffered needless losses, due to Moreland’s lack of control, and, since they didn’t have Moreland to take it out on, they were eager for another target. Meanwhile, Adris, Bultecki, Orosz, and Pewitt would slow the Narthani army and pick off stragglers and small groups, as opportunities occurred. All of the clans agreed that the Tri-Alliance contingent had more than fulfilled a contribution and should retire to their provinces. What was left of the Moreland men of fighting capability would maintain order within Moreland Province, while surviving elders sorted out the clan’s future.
Back to Abersford, Betrayed by Carnigan
Yozef and the others from the Abersford area
left the main Keelan column when their turn came to peel off for home. Culich thanked him again and said to expect meetings and planning for the future, though not for a while, to let the men have time with their families.
When they crested a hill and first saw Abersford and St. Sidryn’s in the distance, Yozef’s spirits leaped.
Home.
He had been on Anyar approaching three years and had thought he’d accepted that this was where he would spend the rest of his life, but something was different.
Is it the battle? Coming close to death? Somehow I have a greater sense of having a stake here. And, of course, there’s Maera and the baby.
News of the victory had gone ahead before they left Moreland City, with no details. More important, Culich had insisted the casualty list be sent as soon as possible. All of the clan’s people deserved to know whether family and friends had survived. Of the dead, mourning could begin. Of the wounded, it would be known they were alive. And for the majority, news that their men would return unscathed lessened fear in thousands of hearts.
The Abersford area was hit hard by the casualties, especially from the artillery crews. Maera had been active in checking that families of the dead were honored for their sacrifice and ensured that the widows and the children would be cared for. It was similar for the wounded. Families would be provided for, until the men recovered enough to resume their normal lives, and for those whose wounds would not allow that, provisions were made. Maera never doubted Yozef would agree with the obligation.
Maera was sitting on their veranda swing when Yozef and Seabiscuit came into view. She rose when she recognized him and walked to the front walk, where Brak took his horse. The elderly man grunted and nodded to Yozef, an unusual gesture of respect from the hardscrabble man. Although Yozef smelled of sweat, horse, dust, and who knew what, Maera hugged him with a fierceness that surprised him. She said nothing for several minutes as he held her gently, her belly pressed up against him.
The Pen and the Sword (Destiny's Crucible Book 2) Page 41
