by P D Ceanneir
Queen Bronwyn was in a meeting with Lord Soneros when they got word of Ness Ri’s visit. They broke the meeting and summoned the Ri to the queen’s study. Both Ris’ embraced like long lost brothers having known each other for many years. Lord Ness was once an apprentice to Soneros and both men fought in the Dragor-rix war. The queen asked about King Vanduke and how the Roguns fared, but she knew much of this from Lord Rett during her short visit to the Pass.
‘It is not the war that brings me here, your majesty, but a favour for the Ri Order,’ said Lord Ness.
‘You have talked to the others?’ said Soneros Ri wide eyed.
‘Some of them I have managed to contact, but others are missing, all have given their consent to my plan.’
‘What plan, my lord,’ said the queen.
‘I must organize a quest and ask you to provide transport to take us to far off lands.’
‘A quest, for what?’ the queen and her Consul looked confused.
‘The Gredligg Orrinn, I know where it is, but to help me find it I need a Sky Ship, and Prince Havoc.’
Marshal Zolar was frustrated, he had lost over a thousand men in the days since the first Raider attacks and his men could not find any Raider amongst the dead. Part of his baggage train was either stolen or burnt and all but one of the catapults destroyed.
He looked towards the west side of Lake Furran where the Rogan prince and his small force had made camp. The sun was setting, casting an orange shimmer to the calm water of the narrow lake. A short calming breeze ruffled his curly brown hair. The stocky marshal paced up and down the small beach on the waters east shore, pondering his next move.
He could rebuild the catapults and other implements of siege warfare once they reached the Pass, although food was in short supply, they salvaged what they could from the destroyed baggage carts. However, the farmlands around them were ravaged homesteads and their Girnals all burnt to the ground. Livestock were also absent because the Raiders had removed them from the fields. Starvation would hit his men before they reached the Pass; this was always a problem with such a large force.
Zolar had to hand it to the prince; he rolled the dice of fate with skill.
After several days at the west entrance to the Long Valley, the Vallkytes made a move to the north. The marshal sent large groups of scouts and Foygion cavalry to search the land for food. He kept another four thousand with the last Catapult and remaining baggage to travel onwards at a slower pace. The main force ate up the miles quicker now with nothing to slow them down, but Zolar’s officers were plagued by mass desertions in their units as hunger and sickness set in, those that were captured were hung, which seemed incredulous in the circumstances, because it caused more desertions.
The Raiders kept pace with the Vallkytes as they followed them on the west side of Lake Furran and the Chunla River. Once they were within ten miles of the Pass Havoc called a halt and watched them from a distance.
For a few days now, he had looked into the Muse Orrinn, and through Mirryn’s eyes, to see that the defences at the Pander Pass were now complete. Between them, the duke and Regent Barnum, had finished the outer and inner walls to the fort, built another wall of wood and strategically spaced archery towers (by the look and quality of the wall, it was likely built by Barnum’s Falesti troops) and created a booby trapped field a mile square in front of the walls. The field saturated with sharp angled stakes, deep pits and small balls of iron spikes, called Caltrops, to maim horses. The only way into the fort was by the stone paved road that led to the raised drawbridge, but that was narrow and would prove to be a killing ground because of the archery towers that loomed over it.
Havoc, after accomplishing his job of slowing down the enemy, left the defence of the Pass to Lord Rett. The Raiders instead harassed the rear guard with the baggage train once again, but failed to destroy the catapult.
Zolar made some half-hearted attempts at breaching the defences’ and did some damage to the wooden Falesti wall with the catapult, but in the morning, the Falesti soldiers miraculously repaired the wall with pre-constructed panels that slotted into the breaches. In a daring night raid, Lord Rett took his men into the marshal’s camp and destroyed the last catapult. Attempts’ in the next few days at making more siege weapons was hampered by Morden’s small task force hidden in the Oldwoods, commanded by the Atyd’s own bodyguard Master Sergeant Delthum. The Atyd himself commanded the Caphun Regulars and Militia out at the Haplann border just in case Zollar turned east to raid into Haplann for supplies. Faced with attacks on all sides and starvation, the Vallkytes retreated through a hostile North Haplann and into Vallkyte lands via the Vallkyte held Aquen, but that small town was low on supplies because of raids from the Eternal Forests at the queen’s orders. So Zollar was forced to move further east. Mirryn watched them depart.
The Raiders departed also, but back to the Vale, to collect provisions and tend to the few wounded they had. His small army marched hard and fast southward reaching the Vale on the night of the twenty-first of Marach 3031 YOA. It was to be a short stay to stock up on provisions and then they made ready to march into the eastern tribal lands at the beginning of Apraila now that the winter thaw had come with the warmer spring weather.
To the prince’s surprise, Gunach and a hundred dwarves all in armour awaited the Raiders departure.
‘We cannot let you have all of the fun, Kervunder,’ said Gunach by way of explanation.
‘I’m honoured, Gunach, but this is not your fight,’ said Havoc as his men moved into marching order.
‘No, it’s yours; this is why we want to join you.’ He said this with such sincerity that Havoc felt such love for his small friend.
‘As captain of the dwarves you will place yourself under the command of Major Gellan.’
‘Aye, aye sir,’ Gunach tipped him a salute.
They marched into Toll-marr. The Vallkyte Navy at Cosshead was his next target.
They moved fast through the north Wither Mountains, bypassing the Great Marsh that sat to the south of the Wyani lands and the north of Tol-marr. Taking direct, but narrow, routes through the Woade Valley, so called because of the population of Wither Blue Horned Goats that lived in the area, their wool was used to make sturdy Ferington Woade armour which was stronger and lighter than hardened leather. They then marched into the Empty Flats at the north-west edge of Ferington itself, where it is said, that the wind that howls through the hills is the sound of the anguished souls of villagers that died by an evil dragon over two thousand years ago, no sign of the village survived.
Pink and white blossom on the groves of trees greeted them as they entered the Toll-marr lands, warm air mixed with cool winds told of the end of winter and the rebirth of the land. After a month of traversing the high passes and skirting the rolling bluffs at the edge of the marshland, they crossed the Tarridun River at its north end where the Tarridun Ridge of mountains met the Great Marsh.
The floodwater emptied from the ridge into waterfalls and shallow pools to flow over rocky rapids down through the marsh and then into the sea. The Raiders forded the fast, but shallow, rapids and then moved south following a second river called the Sten, which bordered the marsh on its east side.
Stenford, a small cattle township, was the northern capital of Toll-marr. Here cattle were the main staple diet of the people due to the fertile grasslands that sprang up beside the marshland and sage fields. Havoc had deliberately ordered the Raiders not to plunder the town; Stenford was the main cattle market centre for the south eastern tribes’. To destroy it would be to cut off the hands that feed the local populous.
The market was bustling with people and livestock when the Raiders rode into town. The prince wanted to avoid this populated area and move on to his target of Cosshead, but provisions were low and “Lifting” a few of the hardy black cows was agreed by his officers. Lifting, or stealing others cattle became as a courteous sport in this area, neighbouring tribes did it all of the time.
Today was Falster�
��s Eve, a Pagan Mass, celebrating the future year’s success of the cattle, hence the busy market.
The natives ran in fear when Velnour’s cavalry surrounded the area. A brave group of town guards and its constable greeted the prince with cold indifference.
‘If you come to steal the cattle, then you should know this is the regions only living and purpose,’ said the thin ragged haired constable who had to shout over the noise of the lolling cattle. Most of the tribal towns and villages had local men as constables appointed by the Vallkyte Court of Land Justiciary to keep order. The current Lord Justifier was the Baron of Ifor, a small garrison town some miles to the south and a stone’s throw from Cosshead.
‘Have no fear sir, my men will take but a few, and I also require water and bread, if you can spare it, I will pay handsomely,’ said the prince and he gave him a leather bag with two hundred and fifty silver merks. The offer of money swayed the constable.
Foxe and Hexor rode side by side on the west side of the Sten River. They had crossed the shallow ford north of the town and sent scouts in all directions up and down the river.
The early afternoon sun glinted dully off their green iridescent armour; despite the heat, they remained cool within its lightweight metal. The Great Marsh lay to their right, beyond an empty cattle field. They could see the town over the river and through the maples that flanked the water’s edge on the east side. The views of the cottages slowly disappeared as they trotted south.
They chatted little, keeping a professional air of competence and not letting themselves be distracted, it was common for the twins to argue when together. Hexor noticed movement first over by the tree line a fair distance down river. He reined in his mount and pointed for his brother to look. Foxe peered intently at the trees that flanked both sides of the river and saw nothing.
‘I can’t...’ he stopped, movement of fleeting shadows, long and menacing among the trees, an unmistakable sound of horses snorting and hooves kicking up leaves, a glint of armour from sunlight through the canopy.
Gaps in the dense hedge of trees made Hexor gasp when he saw a rider in full sight.
‘Yellowlegs!’ he gasped as he recognised the cavalryman’s attire, ‘the Foygions are here, we must warn the prince.’
Havoc was talking with Mad-gellan, Little Kith, Whyteman, and Powyss as they watched the cattle drovers pick out the cattle that the prince had purchased when the twins rode to them at full gallop.
‘Foygions on the far bank, coming up fast, my lord,’ panted Hexor.
‘Are you sure?’ said Powyss.
‘Yes sir, can’t mistake those Yellow Leg guards.’
Havoc pulled out SinDex and looked into the Muse Orrinn, ‘Mirryn,’ he said but the Orrinn did not open. Three more scouts rode to them and reported a mass of enemy infantry coming up the drove road from the south.
‘Zolar has swung round behind us,’ said Mad-gellan to the prince as if Havoc did not know already. He watched the prince stare into the Orrinn and then he sheathed his sword in annoyance. He then stared at the herd of a thousand cattle, mooing in their large paddock, awaiting their release to the spring pastures.
‘Major Gellan, take the infantry to the ford and hold it at all costs, ‘he said and the big Nithi lord acknowledged with a nod and started shouting orders to his soldiers while he sprinted in the direction of the ford.
‘Little Kith, stay here with your men, Whyteman, send Linth and his company to aid Mad-gellan and you take the rest of the Eternals into the trees, there on the right of the drove road,’ Havoc pointed to the tall woods that ran parallel to the river for two miles, ‘stop anyone from using the woods for cover. Powyss take Velnour and the cavalry to the burial mound to the west and await my signal to attack.’ There was much urgency from his captains as they shouted out orders over the lowing of the cattle. Verkin appeared next to the prince, as leader of his elite bodyguards he was never far away; the jet-black shoulder pads distinguished Verkin and his men from the rest of the prince’s host.
‘What orders for me my lord?’ he asked.
Havoc was still looking at the cattle, ‘Tell me Verkin, how are your herding skills?’
Verkin looked at the cattle with confusion then at the drove road; he smiled as the prince’s plan dawned on him.
‘The cows are a little smarter than Little Kith so we might just manage,’ he finally said.
‘I heard that!’ growled the giant.
As one, just over two thousand Raiders followed their major at full sprint to get to the ford before the enemy. Mad-gellan cast furtive glances across the river and saw the progress that the Foygions had made; the Raiders were in the lead, but only just.
‘Run like there is Wyrmfire up your arse boys!’ he yelled.
Powyss and his five hundred cavalry made quick time to the hill sized burial mound. It was ancient, with short turf grass on its undulating summit; it proved to be a good hiding place for his men. His vantage point here helped him see down the slight hill to the drove road that dipped down and wound its way east. Wide grassland on either side of the road helped when moving large herds along it, but this was funnelled in-between woodland. The long stretch of trees, which Whyteman and his men were running through, started at the town, but on the opposite side, it was remarkably thin and bare, which would allow the enemy infantry to spread out and encompass the town from the north. Powyss now understood Havoc idea to send him here; he was to keep them contained within the drove road corridor. However, when he saw the mass of enemy infantry moving quickly up the road he did not reckon his chances at containing them.
The Eternals dodged through the trees, keeping their bows ready by their sides. Whyteman had faith in the prince, but was unsure how the prince was going to fend off several thousand infantry with Kith’s men and Verkin’s guards. He hoped he had a plan.
The Raiders reached their side of the ford first, but only just. The ford was manmade with red flagstones laid flat just under the water and about one hundred feet wide to allow the large herds to move across without difficulty. Red painted fences, imbedded into the riverbed at each side of the ford, denoted the end of the shallow area and the start of the deep river proper.
Stretching his men out into three long lines with reserves far to the rear, Mad-gellan took the centre, the burly Mactan on his right and the ever-efficient Felcon on the left. They were only halfway across when the Foygions charged from the pastureland with lances couched.
‘Shields up, angle spears, hold them!’ shouted Mad-gellan, the shields linked, their extendable spears at full length and the shallow water running rapids around their knees. The front rank barely had time to crouch and brace themselves in this bristling formation before the impact of enemy heavy horses’.
After ten minutes of weaving through the trees, Whyteman saw the first of the infantry racing along the drove road.
‘I think we are going to need more arrows,’ said Brynd in a deadpan voice beside him.
‘Everyone stretch out,’ said Whyteman ‘and stop anyone from entering the woods.’
The impact forced the raiders back but stopped the cavalry dead; lances cracked or broke on shields. Men and horses screamed as the Raiders spears struck home. The centre of Mad-gellan’s line bowed from the weight of the horseflesh pushing against them, but they dug down on the slippery cobbles underfoot and the pressure of the soldiers behind. Mactan and Jericho’s units on the right curved their line inwards and ordered their men to pull down the riders with their spears hooks. This was to prove deadly for the Foygions as they were unable to bat them away with their shields without opening up an unprotected area. The Raiders worked in groups; two would pull away the troopers shield with the spears while another deftly collared the rider around the neck or shoulder guards with the lethal hooks and pull riders down. Gunach, and his short and nimble dwarves, squeezed between the lines of Raiders, and using their long dirks, would hamstring the horses and cut the throats of falling riders. Blood spilled to stain their clothi
ng and the riders hacked down at them from their saddles, but the dwarves were fierce and steady in battle.
It was difficult for Mad-gellan’s company in the centre to find purchase on the algae coated rocks; it was just as difficult for Lord Yaquis and his Wyani heavy horse also. Some slipped and stumbled beyond the red fences, plunging into the deep ends of the running river where they would drown under the weight of their armour
Linth soon arrived and ordered his archers to fire at will. The riders may have had advantage of height, however not where the archers were concerned, they picked off their targets, weakening the attack long enough for the major to reform and push back.
Whyteman got the answer to the prince’s plan. The rumble through the ground said it all. Once the lowing of panicking cattle crested the rise to the town, and stampeded down the funnel of the drove road, he knew the enemy were doomed.
The only escape for them was to their flanks, this was the reason the prince had sent him into the woods. The approaching Vallkyte infantry fled away from the onrush of screaming bovine madness and entered the woods for safety, where they met the whistling screams of the Eternals arrows.
It was Verkin and his bodyguard squadron that broke open the paddocks and stampeded the cattle; unfortunately, they sent it too late. The enemy had spread out after passing the left hand bank of trees; Havoc noticed and gave Chirn the order for Powyss and his cavalry to attack, but his second in command was already cantering forward when the Horn of Relin sounded loud and clear over the noise of the panicking cattle. Powyss charge now pushed the enemy infantry back towards the woods and crushed them towards the centre.
In unison, the Raiders reorganised their formation and co-ordinated their attack on the Foygion’s as if it was any training day. They stepped forward, hooked and pulled, forward, hook and pull until they reached the other side. Faced with this ominous attack the Foygion Cavalry backed off. The river thickened with blood and bodies, as the current carried away the detritus of battle.
