by P D Ceanneir
‘Where in the name of creation, did they come from?’ cried Elkin. Still shaken by the appearance of the mysterious figure in the black cloak that his superstitious men called the “Blacksword”, Elkin thought that the presence of this strange being, and this new threat, was too much of a coincidence, yet he concentrated on the situation at hand.
Gathering as many company officers and sergeants to his side, he issued quick orders to have his soldiers kitted, armed, and formed to the rear of the makeshift garrison.
‘Tear down tents if you have to make room,’ he said, ‘I want the cliffs at our back and the town walls blocking our right flank.’
A young cavalry captain, in the blue Vallkyte livery of the Dulan Light Horse, cantered towards the general.
‘Sir, my men are mounted; I will take them eastwards to flank them by the Gap.’
‘You will do no such thing, Captain! I have no idea who we are dealing with or the amount of men their commander has. You will place your men on my left to protect that flank.’
The captain looked as if he was about to argue the point with his commanding officer. Elkin was not strictly a native of the Vallkytes. Born in Toll-marr and educated in Dulan-Tiss, he was however, much respected amongst the other Vallkyte officers, but many knew his loyalty to the cause to be questionable.
‘But we shall have to keep an open line to the Gap, sir, what if the Ifor Lancers come to our aid?’ asked the captain in, what sounded to Elkin, as a childish whine.
Elkin pointed out towards the river. A mass of soldiers were forming and moving over the dunes. No flags or banners were in evidence, which made the general wonder if these were just local rebels. ‘Whoever is in command of that host, lad, has had the foresight to move his men into the high ground next to the main road from the Gap. I have seen his archers in action and they will cause many deaths to the baron’s men should he move out into the open,’ explained Elkin.
The cavalry captain’s shoulders slumped, pursed his lips despondently. Elkin could see he was not convinced. Without a word, the officer turned his steed around and trotted back to his unit.
‘Bloody Vallkytes,’ mumbled Elkin and shook his head.
‘Did you have fun last night?’ Powyss asked the prince as the host moved off the grass-tufted dunes, crossed the undulating hillocks, and lined his men up nearer to the main road. Their new position effectively blocked Elkins escape to the Gap, but the general moved his Tol-marr Regiments to the east of his camp, using part of the long dyke that edged the road to cover his left flank and the chalk cliff at his rear. This move confused the prince at first then he saw the fine ash from the burning harbour fall like snow and some of the white tents of the enemy’s camp start to smoke. The general was moving as far away from the flames as he dared. However, the acrid smoke stung Havoc’s nostrils and it could only be worse from Elkin’s position.
‘We both did,’ corrected the prince in answer to his major’s question.
‘Ah, I see,’ nodded his old friend, ‘I also see that you have finally managed to control the fire element, did the Blacksword help?’
‘Let’s just say we have both come to an agreement,’ said the prince with a smile.
Through the black smoke, Havoc could see that the east side of the town was on fire now. The design of the tall closely packed town houses was a doom upon the town. Their narrow street design meant that the flames would just pass from one house to another. The flames would soon engulf Cosshead entirely.
The minutes drew out as both sides watched for a tactical advantage. Havoc figured that the old general was being cautious and was unsure of the prince’s numbers, mainly because most of the Raiders stood behind the Legion ranks on the lower slope of hillocks and were out of sight. No standards flew yet also, because Havoc wished the enemy general to believe his army of attackers were mere rebels, unchivalrous, but he wanted to use any advantage against such an accomplished commander. He had given orders to cover heraldic designs and discard livery tabards, but the obvious green armour of the Raiders would give away their identity soon enough. So but for now the prince waited and watched. Fortunately, the prince could clearly see Elkin move men into formation from his high vantage on the hillocks, a tactical position that gave him the clearer advantage in outwitting the wily old general.
Eventually, whether it was due to the cloying smoke or the general being impatient, Elkin made a move to attack, but it was not a bold one.
The Tol-marr regiments numbered two and a half thousand, with only less than a thousand Vallkyte infantry now that the Eternals had thinned their ranks, he also had two hundred and fifty mounted light cavalry which flanked Elkin’s soldiers on his left. Havoc, for once, outnumbered his opponent. Nevertheless, Elkin sent only a thousand to assault the rebels. These were the Bellmen, the general’s Old Guard of tough veterans, recruited from the town of Bell and surrounding villages in Elkins lands of Storridge, southeast Tol-marr. Havoc knew the general was being cautious. Elkin had no idea who he was dealing with, so he was sending his best to probe for weakness.
The prince played him at his own game and sent Mad-gellan with only five hundred Raiders to hold them back with their extendable spears. The Bellmen marched two hundred yards from the main body of Elkin’s host and exited the dyke’s enclosure via a wide earthen rampart, and then they stretched into a long line, three ranks deep, keeping the dyke on their left. Mad-gellan stayed compact, ordering his men into a round phalanx formation with shields and spears tight together in an overlapping pattern. The Nithi lord was hoping the Bellmen surrounded him so the Eternals could take out any exposed enemy, but the Bellmen were skilled in war craft and retained their discipline and formation; they held the line together as the five hundred Raiders jabbed up and down its ranks, probing with spears, searching for weak spots. Each side meted out punishment on the other.
The minutes rolled by as the shouts and grunts from the combatants ricocheted off the chalk cliffs that sat behind Elkin’s main body of soldiers. Havoc scanned the ranks of the general’s men and spotted the war hero standing in front of the remaining Bellmen. He wore a long mail coat and a padded red tabard, he was nonchalantly leaning on a tall broadsword as he, in turn, watched Havoc’s host on the row of hillocks.
The prince noticed a single cavalry rider brake away from his squadron and canter directly towards the old general. From the bright blue sash he wore over his shoulder baldric, he was an officer. Elkin and the officer exchanged words. Elkin gesticulated wildly and the officer went, unceremoniously, back to his position with his men.
‘What do you think that was about?’ asked Powyss who was watching with the prince.
Havoc nodded towards his own forces right flank. There, his soldiers stretched along the route to the road with archers lining the hillock and one company of infantry under the dark haired Mactan.
‘The cavalry officer sees a chance to hit our flanks,’ explained Havoc, ‘Elkin sees the obvious rouse.’
‘I hope you know what you’re doing, Elkin is no slouch. He has proved himself in battle many times.’
‘Don’t fret on that score, if all fails, we still have Velnour.’
After ten minutes of Mad-gellan’s valiant fight against the odds, Major Jericho approached the prince.
‘Sir, permission to aid Mad-gellan?’ he asked. His face showed concern for the Nithi lord whom he was now close friends with since their days at the Vale.
‘I don’t think that Major Gellan will be too happy to know that he is failing in his task enough to necessitate assistance,’ said Havoc calmly.
‘But sir, he...’
‘Major Jericho!’ cut in Powyss, not too harshly, ‘your unit is without their commanding officer, kindly return to your line, please.’
Jericho fretted, everyone gazed at him silently, bar the prince, who watched the battle.
‘Yes sir,’ said the major and stormed off back to his unit. Everyone knew that the plan was to use Velnour at the opportune moment. However, t
he prince could understand the major’s concern for his friend. The battle was moving too slowly for some people, this was a battle of wills.
That opportune moment was about to happen a few minutes later. There was commotion in the generals units. The Vallkyte cavalry detached itself from the enemy left wing and charged towards Havoc’s exposed right flank.
Surely, the general would not leave his flank defenceless? The prince watched with anticipation.
Mactan’s company, on the right, saw the charge and altered the lines of his formation accordingly. Bringing spears to bear at an angle and grounding the club ends. Linth was in support on the high ground behind him, readying his men to draw bows. Linth was without his weapon; his wounded shoulder had not healed since the attack on Skytop, but he could still shout orders. When the horses were in range the Lieutenant ordered his men to fire their arrows, and a score of them fell under the volley before they ploughed into Mactan’s spearmen. The resulting collision ended in a jumbled mass of men and horses.
Beside Havoc, Gunach nudged him, ‘you’re not going to tell me that my men don’t belong in that melee, Kervunder?’
‘I would not dream of it captain,’ smiled back the prince, ‘take them into the attack,’ he then turned to his Standard Bearer. ‘Sergeant Chirn, five blasts on the horn please.’
The horn signalled Velnour to make an appearance, everyone knew. However to Elkin, it seemed to signal the small company of dwarves to assault the Vallkyte cavalry. The Master Smith and his burly squad of dwarves ran quickly to Mactan’s aid, caused mayhem among the equestrians as they used their double-headed axes to cut into the horse’s legs to hamstring them or pull down riders with their curved edges and then hack them to death while they flailed on the ground. Havoc watched as Gunach himself leapt high, higher than the height of the horse’s heads, with axe raised above him. He brought it down on the back of the nearest cavalrymen and both of them fell into the mass of battle and were lost to sight.
Presently Velnour, with nearly two thousand heavy horses, stormed through the Limeshoal Gap at a gallop. The tide of battle turned at that moment. The seven hundred Vallkyte infantry, seeing what they thought was the Ifor Lancers; believed victory was theirs and attacked the prince’s disorganised right flank.
The general quickly repositioned the rest his men for an all out charge. He then marched them forward away from the cloying smoke coming from the town and towards the dyke. An eastern sea breeze pulled the smoke across the battlefield, cutting across the path of the Bellmen.
‘Sir Magnus!’ shouted Havoc down the line of his officers, ‘take the Legion left and flank the Bellmen attacking Lord Gellan please, I want them contained.’
Magnus nodded and ran with his Legion to the left. Because of the position of Mad-gellan and the attacking Bellmen, Elkin could not see their right flank because he was marching to aid his left.
Velnour’s arrowhead charge aimed at Mactan’s company to begin with, and then changed at the last second to smash through the Vallkyte infantry as they ran out into the open, spreading them to the four winds like seeds from ears of corn. The host of horse turned and slashed as they carved through the panicking infantry, grounding them into the dirt and causing them to break formation and flee.
General Elkin saw the deception, but had no time to reorganize his men because Velnour, and a thousand armoured cavalry in the uniform of the Ifor Lancers, split from the main charge and headed straight for the Old Guards left wing. They hit his company of Tol-marr Bellmen like a knife through curd. Hundreds died under the slashing blades and the pounding hooves in what seemed like half an hour of mindless slaying. Elkin’s soldiers moved to regroup and move back from the horse, but the momentum of the charge was throwing his men into the dyke and causing soldiers to crush against it as they fell back in panic. The battle became a confusing mass of desperately fighting men as one side fused into the other.
Havoc watched in calm silence. He had yet to unleash the bulk of his host who all lined the long row of hillocks to his front. Behind him were the reserves of Falesti Regulars under the command of Queen Bronwyn. Havoc managed to convince her not to take part in any of the fighting or endanger herself in any way. Eventually, she had relented to his demands. Lord Ness stood at her side and her warriors surrounded them both in a protective circle.
By the drywalls western rim, Magnus and his legion had managed to break through the left flank of the enemy, thereby forcing them backwards and pushing the Bellmen against the wall. The thousand Bellmen were now pinned.
‘You may help Lord Gellan now, Major Jericho,’ shouted Havoc down the line of officers and Jericho and his men ran forward. Those Bellmen at the wall fought to the end. Surrounded and outnumbered by a hedge of spears, they continued to fight on even though it was a hopeless task. Hundreds of them fell to the blades of the prince’s host.
In the centre of the battle, the main body of the general’s men now crumbled into a route. They scampered over the wall and fled into the garrison of white tents. Velnour’s cavalry followed once they got through the sparsely guarded eastern edge of the dyke that was a crumpled ruin or climbed their mounts over the rampart at the left flank. Havoc took that moment to order a general advance of the rest of his host and he watched them charge forward from the hillock. Once they negotiated the dyke, they lowered spears and marched over the rows of dead left by the panicked crush.
It was Foxe and Hexor with their skirmishers that engaged Elkins Old Guard first, somewhere close to the general’s right flank. The combined might of Felcon and Furran’s companies joined them in the press of spear and shield. General Elkin and his remaining old guard, about seven hundred in all, had retreated through the tents in the hope of breaking up the cavalry charge, but the Raiders infantry advance was quick and efficient. Eventually, Elkin’s remaining soldiers had nowhere to go as the chalk cliffs, at the far end of the camp, blocked their retreat. Velnour’s cavalry swung around and hit them from the east.
After a furious, ten minute struggle. Captain Velnour knew he had the enemy pinned. He gave the order for his riders to back up from the fight and surrounded the general in a half circle. The Raider infantry remained in their ordered ranks with spears levelled, all of them breathing heavily.
‘Lord Elkin!’ shouted Velnour, ‘do you surrender?’
‘Not to a young pup like you!’ shouted the general and there was a hurrah from his men.’ The general stared up at the young officer with the single eye patch and grinned.
‘Pity, it is a shame to end the life of such brave men, I shall inform my commanding officer of the situation.’
‘Do that!’ said Elkin, ‘for I shall only hand my sword to him.’
There was a moment of tense waiting as Velnour’s orders passed along the ranks of the cavalry. Presently Prince Havoc walked through the tight circle of horses and stared down the men of Bell who still pointed their spears and swords at his Raiders. Elkin squeezed out from between his soldiers to face the prince, looking him up and down. The prince unclasped his chin guard and pulled off his conical helmet with the bright red plume of horsehair to reveal his face to the general. Elkin noted the fine tailored armour that fitted the prince so well and the strange iridescent sheen it had when he moved. He also saw the image of the dragon Dex artfully painted on this young man’s right shoulder guard.
‘You are the commander of this army; good grief! was I ever that young?’ Elkin’s comment got laughs from both sides.
‘Lord Elkin, I’ am Prince Havoc De Proteous Cromme of the Roguns and it is an honour to meet you at last, although, I truly wished it to be under different circumstances’.
Elkin looked stunned; a murmur rose from the men behind him and he told them all to shut up.
‘I thought you were in the Great Marsh being hounded by Zolar...your highness.’
‘I was.’
‘Then where is the marshal?’
‘Dead amongst his army near the Fess Woods.’
‘Good god
s! He had at least nine thousand at his command,’ Elkin said rubbing his chin.
‘Actually sir, it was closer to thirteen thousand,’ said Velnour from his saddle with a slight smile. The general chuckled, then looked into Havoc’s eyes and smiled mumbling to himself. He unsheathed his sword with a flourish and handed it hilt first to the prince.
‘My lord, I hereby give you my sword as token of my surrender and a promise of good conduct as your prisoner,’ he said.
‘That will not be necessary my lord, I will not diminish such a legendary figure by unarming him in front of his men, you may keep your sword sir, but your men will have to give up theirs,’ said Havoc. Elkin gave the order for his men to disarm.
Smoke drifted over the multitude of dead as the prisoners of the battle marched under escort back to Ifor. The prince’s losses were minor. Most of his dead fell in Mad-gellan’s company, while General Elkin’s host lost half its original number. The Vallkyte regiments of foot took such heavy losses that only ninety prisoners gave up their weapons; some amongst them were noble men-at-arms with rich lands to barter for ransom and release. The Vallkyte cavalry, destroyed by Velnour’s attack, would not be able to reform as a combating squadron again, its young captain died on Mactan’s spears.
