“Order another regiment forward,” Roland said. “One of the regular infantry. They’ll march north in the spur, make sure there’s nothing waiting for us there.”
“Yes, my lord.”
The column advanced slowly through the ravine, marching in as much silence as twenty thousand men could. The moon climbed up from the eastern horizon, casting a pale light into the ravine. Roland continued to lead his troops forward, watching the hills above for movement.
The Kerberosi arrived at the opening to the Gerich Valley with the moon fully overhead. Even two miles away from the town, they could hear the noise and see the light of thousands of camp fires. Roland received a final report from the regiment of light infantry that had screened their advance. The skirmishers had taken up positions surrounding the southern sentries and were poised to attack the artillery positions.
Roland led his men along the base of the valley wall, using brush and high grass for cover. The line spread back as far as the eye could see, two men wide.
“We’ll need to reform before we attack,” Roland said as his men marched north. “When the first regiment reaches the eastern valley entrance, order the men to reform into ranks.”
The moon was starting its descent into the western sky when the Kerberosi soldiers finally reformed into their ranks. Roland waited impatiently, watching in the pale moonlight as each regiment reported their readiness. Their target was alive with activity. They were well within the range of the light artillery positioned at the edge of the town and they could hear music drifting up from half a dozen different places.
Roland checked his cartridges and percussion caps, then inspected the valley one last time. “Order the advance,” he said. “No one is to fire until we’re fired on.”
A regiment began the climb toward the valley’s edge, moving among the brush and small trees. The rest of the division started toward the village in silence.
The boom of cannon fire echoed across the valley. Explosions shook the earth and clouds of dirt exploded from the hillsides. Trumpets sounded and drums rattled. The thunder of a cavalry charge rumbled toward the Kerberosi lines.
“Hold firm!” Roland called. “At the ready!”
The panicked ranks raised their muskets as thousands of mounted shadows rode toward them through the pale light. More cannons thundered, and flares rocketed into the sky, casting bright light on the valley floor. Roland could see Ansgari soldiers advancing from the village in tightly packed ranks and more cavalry riding out from behind them.
Muskets crackled along the valley’s edge and Roland spared a glance upward. In the bright lights from the flares, he could see his three battalions swarming over the enemy outpost. The brief, brilliant flashes of muskets firing along the hilltops showed that his men were winning.
The Ansgari cavalry continued to charge through the darkness and Roland wondered how long they had known the he and his men were in the valley. His scouts had claimed that no enemy patrols had been seen in the southern valley or in the ravines that led into it, but there were experienced hillmen in the Ansgari army, same as there were on the Kerberosi side.
The charging horses were close enough, now, that Roland could see the glint of moonlight and flares on the riders’ sabers. “Fire!” he shouted, and his men unleashed a fearsome volley.
Horses screamed and fell, men shouted as their mounts crashed beneath them and bullets ripped through their bodies. The riders who survived reined up short, backing away from the ordered lines of infantry. Roland quickly reloaded, ripping open a fresh cartridge and jamming its contents down the barrel of his rifled musket. The cavalry charge was broken, for the moment, but there was infantry close behind the and they would not be dissuaded by a single volley.
“Make for the valley entrance!” Roland shouted. “Sound ‘Ordered Withdrawl!’”
The trumpeter sounded the command and the Kerberosi began their retreat toward the wide mouth of the valley. Artillery thundered again, behind them this time. The rounds sailed well over their heads and shells exploded among the already confused cavalry.
Roland stopped, pulled his rifle to his shoulder, and picked a target out of the milling crowd of riders. They were nearly out of range, but there were enough of them that even if he missed his mark, he was sure to hit something. He inhaled deeply, held it for a moment, and then released. As the last breath left his lungs, Roland squeezed the trigger.
The Ansgari cavalry finally managed to collect themselves and charged after the Kerberosi, swinging wide around to harass the collapsing flanks rather than face the full force of the infantry. Carbines and rifles cracked in the dark, flashes of light and puffs of smoke marking the thickest of the fighting. The artillery continued as well, thunderous booms followed by the ear-splitting scream of falling projectiles and the shudder of the earth as the shells exploded.
Roland and his men reached the valley’s opening and fell into tight formation. The narrow ravine that acted as the main entrance to the valley was steep and barely wider than the smaller defile that had hidden their approach from the east. The rear regiment turned, facing another charge by the pursuing cavalry. But the Ansgari commanders were not foolish enough to make the same mistake twice; they halted their charge far short of the Kerberosi rifle range.
Chapter 26 - Eadric
“Our guns will be in place by sunrise,” Alden Hanley reported as he and his king watched gun crews pushing their artillery into the trenches.
“It’s about time,” Eadric said, his eyes focused below.
It had taken the engineers nearly ten days to dig out the trenches and gun pits that would protect those cannons from the guns of Fort William. They had cut trenches one way and then the other, avoiding direct lines toward the fort. The rebels had shelled the dig teams, but the trenches were cut deep, wicker baskets full of dirt had lined their edges, and wooden mantlets protected them from raining shrapnel. Losses had occurred, but they had been far lighter than expected.
Once the guns were in place, they would begin shelling Fort William. The western walls had been undamaged when the Kerberosi had captured the fortress, but the heavy field guns would make short work of them nonetheless. Eadric had been hesitant to agree to attacking the fortress, but it was the first step in bringing Agilard City to heel. Other forts surrounding the city would be attacked as well, but Fort William was a symbol of his ancestor’s victory and bringing it to the ground was almost a sacrilege.
“I want the guns firing at minimum intervals,” Eadric said, turning away from the trenches. “I want continuous fire until their defenses break.”
“We’ll need to alternate the guns,” Alden said. “Split the batteries into two groups. Six hour rotations.”
“Split the guns into three assignments. Twelve hour rotations,” Eadric said quickly. “Six hours of overlap for each battery.”
“We’ll overheat the guns if they’re on a twelve hour rotation,” Alden said. “We can’t afford to have a gun explode in these trenches, Eadric.”
“Just do it, Alden,” Eadric said. He turned back toward his hilltop command post and the setting sun. In the distance behind him, cannons thundered.
The command post was a makeshift structure, partially dug out from the hillside and surrounded by dirt filled gabions. Wood walls and a roof had been erected over the pit as protection against sun, wind, and rain. A pair of telegraph lines had been strung: one connected the command post to the village in the Gerich Valley and the other passed messages to the northern command post. Generals huddled around tables strewn with maps and runners flowed through the command post’s open doorways, carrying messages and orders.
“What are our dispositions?” Eadric demanded as he approached the nearest table. The highest ranking Ansgari generals and nobles were gathered around the map of the local area, moving markers into position.
“General Abragio is in place to assault the northern fortresses with his three corps. Our troops are still encamped in the the Gerich Valley, but t
hey are ready to move once Fort William is pacified,” Robert Calvin said.
Eadric noted the absence of fleet markers in Hellhound Harbor. “Has there been any word from Admiral Tallert?” he asked.
“We received a messenger earlier this afternoon, but it was not promising news,” Robert reported. “The admiral reports that while he was able to drive off or destroy many of the Kerberosi ship, he suffered heavy losses in the process. He anticipates his arrival at Hellhound Harbor in three days, with no more than half of his original strength.”
“Half?” Eadric was incredulous.
“He doesn’t anticipate pressing through what’s left of the Kerberosi ships, and the fortresses around the Harbor, for at least two days additional.”
The ships that Tallert had taken into battle had been the newest, best armed, and most experienced ships in the Ansgari fleet, even accounting for the ships that had turned traitor. Where his infantry had suffered setbacks, the Kerberosi had held the high ground; on the open waters, the field was level. Eadric had intended for those ships to take part in the bombardment of the fortresses protecting Agilard City; without them, he would only have his field guns.
“Are there any additional ships within a few days’ travel?” Eadric asked.
“Tallert left a handful of frigates and a few schooners in the straits,” Robert said. “But finding them could take some time.”
“Pass the word to Tallert. Have him detail some corvettes to collect the ships he left in the straits,” Eadric ordered. “Until those ships are in the harbor, we need to continue hitting the fortresses with our field artillery. Bring in the howitzers if we need to; if we can rain shells down on their powder magazines, we can speed up this siege.”
“The howitzers won’t have the range, my lord,” Chief Engineer Henrik Thayne said. “Their rounds will fall well short of the wall.”
Eadric glared at his advisor. The short barreled howitzers could lob their rounds over the fortress walls better than a field gun, but sacrificed much of their range to do so. “Then have your damn engineers dig the trenches closer,” he said. “The field guns can keep their heads down.”
Henrik bowed his head. “As you command, Your Majesty,” he said. He snapped his fingers and a runner hurried over to the table; he scribbled out orders on a scrap of paper. “Run these orders to the engineer post.”
The runner bowed low and dashed out of the command post.
“What of the supply trains from Aetheston?” Eadric asked.
“The Kerberosi razed nearly all of the lines from here to East End,” Robert reported. “We can’t get a single train from East End without transferring it three or four times.”
“Why have the lines not been rebuilt?”
“They did quite a bit of damage to the lines, milord,” the chief engineer reported. “They burned most of the bridges, tore up miles of track, and twisted the rails around ever tree they could find. We’ve had to bring in rails from our foundries at Cutler. It has taken more than than we had hoped.”
“I hope that it doesn’t take too much longer,” Eadric said. “Once we’ve crushed this rabble, we’ll need to get our soldiers back to the west. Those lines are going to be our best option.”
“Of course,” Henrik said.
Eadric looked across the map. “I want the infantry brought up from the Gerich.” He traced a line around the edge of his army’s position. “I want this entire area encircled. No one should be allowed to escape.”
“I think it would be best if we let the men rest,” Alden said. “They’ve spent much of the year on the march, or packed into trains, We need them fresh when the Kerberosi retreat to their city.”
“They’ll get fat and lazy sitting in the valley,” Eadric said, the anger in his voice mounting. His advisors seemed to oppose him at every turn. “They will encircle the city, and when the Kerberosi break, we’ll run them down like dogs.”
Chapter 27 - Roland
Explosive shells whistled as they fell over the walls of Fort William. Roland Jarmann ducked behind a garrison cannon and held his hands over his ears. The rounds buried themselves in the courtyard and exploded; dirt and shrapnel flew in every direction. Roland could hear the chunks of metal pinging off of the cannon he had used for cover.
He placed a steel nail into the primer hole at the rear of the cannon, raised his hammer over his head, and brought it down with all of his might. Another handful of swings buried the nail deep. It was the last functioning cannon in the fort and Roland allowed himself a brief moment to look around the ruins.
The Kerberosi engineers had only just managed to repair most of the damage from their takeover of the fortress when Eadric’s guns had opened fire. The outer walls had done better than Roland had expected, but once the Ansgari howitzers had started dropping explosive shells inside the walls, it was clear that Fort William would not be safe for much longer.
Except for the men necessary to keep the cannons firing, the fort had been abandoned for more than a day. Most of the garrison had made their escape under cover of darkness. As each of the huge garrison cannons had been spiked, their crews had retreated as well. Roland and a small contingent of guards were all that remained in Fort William.
“We should get going,” Aren Falk, Roland’s head guardsman, suggested. “Their artillery has ceased fire.”
Roland realized that the thunder of cannons, scream of falling shells, and boom of explosives that had been ever-present for a week were suddenly absent.
“Best to get going then,” Roland said. “Their infantry will be on us soon.”
The small cadre of guards gathered around Roland, carbines in hand. A private came from the stables, horses in tow. Horns sounded in the distance and the rattle of drums echoed down from the hills surrounding Agilard City.
“Mount up boys,” Roland said as he threw his leg over the saddle of his stallion.
The last of the guards heaved the huge fortress doors open and climbed onto their horses. The drums were growing louder and under the sound of the horns, Roland could hear the thunder of cavalry charging across the plains. Fires burned on the other side of the valley in what had once been Fort Sigurd, black smoke drifted into the late afternoon sky in thick clouds.
Roland put his heels into his mount, urging the horse forward at a trot. His guards followed him out of the fortress gates, carbines cradled in their arms and eyes scanning the western horizon for signs of enemy riders. A handful of the guards galloped forward, leading the rest of the column around the trenches and obstructions set up to slow the advancing infantry.
The riders moved in silence, weaving their way through the craters, breastworks, and barriers. While the bodies from battles past had long been removed, and scavengers had picked over the fields, abandoned equipment still lay in the trenches and craters. The horses pushed tin cups and coffee pots, empty haversacks, and bedrolls further into the muddy earth.
A horn sounded to the west. “Riders!”
A patrol rounded the corner of Fort William, riding hard. In the waning afternoon light, Roland could see the king’s flag at the head of the party. There were only a handful of riders, less than half as many guards as surrounded Roland. The urge to turn and fight was strong, but these would only be the first. More cavalry would be behind them and getting caught out in the open would be disastrous.
“Ride on!” Roland ordered as he urged his mount faster.
The pursuers struggled with the defensive emplacements, but they pushed their horses harder to catch Roland and his men. The crackle of carbine fire echoed in the distance, but they were too far out of range for the shorter barrels to be effective. Roland and his men pushed forward, through the last of the trenches and earthworks and into the open ground that surrounded Agilard City.
The city’s guns opened fire. The fifteen pounds guns were small compared to the garrison guns of Fort William, but their explosive rounds would be more than enough to fend off the small patrol of riders.
“The
y’re still coming!” someone shouted. “They’ve cleared the trenches!”
Roland looked over his shoulder. There was no sign of additional riders sweeping in from behind the fort. “Turn and fight!” he ordered as he reined up and wheeled his horse around to face the patrol. The guards around him turned.
Roland brought the carbine in his lap to his shoulder and looked down the barrel. He sighted up the lead rider, the man carrying the king’s flag. Roland pulled back his carbine’s hammer and waited. The man rose and fell with each stride of the charger beneath him; Roland followed the movement. The riders around him fired; horses collapsed as bullets pierced their flanks or cut through their legs, and Ansgari riders slid out of their saddles with gaping holes in their chests. Roland’s target still rode forward, flag raised high, shouting at his fellow riders.
Roland squeezed his carbine’s trigger, the hammer fell on the pin, and the gun jumped as flame spouted from the end of the barrel. The flag-bearer dropped the king’s flag and clutched at his chest as he slumped in his saddle.
Another volley went out from Roland’s guards; more Ansgari riders fell. The survivors wheeled around and rode hard back toward Fort William.
“Back to the city!” Roland shouted.
The gates, wide and thick oak banded with steel, swung inward as the riders approached. Soldiers lined the walls, rifles at the ready; more waited inside. The gates groaned as they closed behind Roland and his men.
The city was overcrowded with refugees and soldiers. Tent cities had gone up in the market squares; men and women and children huddled together in canvas homes hoping to survive another day on the scraps of food they begged or stole. The stench was horrible. As Roland led his horse toward Hellhound Castle, hordes of refugees pressed against the flanks of his horse and grabbed at the reins.
“Shelter, milord!” a man yelled.
“Food, my lord, for my children!” a woman screamed.
“Back you rabble!” One of Roland’s guards shouted, pushing his horse between his prince and the pressing crowds.
The Cerberus Rebellion (A Griffins & Gunpowder Novel) Page 24
