Great Kings' War

by Roland Green

  Xykos' bones would have been fertilizing the fields of Tenabra now if he hadn't been lucky enough to unhorse a Zarthani Knight with his two-handed sword and take his mount. The charger had proved to be a valued friend, once Xykos had proved who was boss, but the journey back to Hostigos had been a long one and his friend had given his life so that Xykos could see his newborn son again.

  Vurth, his wife's father, had argued after his return from Tenabra that he'd paid his debt to their Prince and that he should remain and tend his farm. "Let the gods settle matters between Great Kings!" had been his father-in-law's advice. However, Xykos knew where his loyalty and duty lay; if they didn't stop these Styphoni dogs here and now there would never be any peace—or even a Hostigos. Besides, he was now one of the double-pay Veterans of the Long March; the extra silver would help greatly when it came to buying new stock for the farm after the war.

  Then Xykos saw a most wondrous sight: from either side of the enemy Great Square ahead, a line of musketeers moved out like a hinged arm. Before he'd covered a dozen more paces, there was a thunderclap of muskets and the buzz of metal hornets in the air. He heard cries of pain all around and staggered as his shield slowed a bullet enough that it only dented his breastplate. He stumbled for a moment, then caught his footing and fell back into step with the men to either side.

  Another volley! This time Xykos felt a bullet crease his helmet. How much longer before Petty-Captain Lytog gave the order to halt and return fire? Each musketeer was carrying two or three loaded smoothbores taken from a Hostigos armory filled to the rafters with the loot of Kalvan's victory at Chothros. A new ditty sung in Hostigos taverns told how Kalvan took cheese and bread to Hos-Harphax and returned with steel and lead.

  Two more Styphoni volleys, each more ragged than the last slammed, into the lines, then the petty-captains gave the order to halt. Xykos set his shield and caught his breath, while the musketeers planted their musket rests. In the third Hostigi rank, he was close enough to the enemy front to make out individual men. The Ktemnoi Sacred Squares were dressed in blue shirts and breeches, with brown boiled-leather jacks for the musketeers and polished steel breastplates for the billmen, set off by orange sashes. They all wore the high-combed helmets Kalvan called morions with orange and blue plumes. The Royal Square was dressed differently; they all wore silvered armor, like the Saski bodyguard, and orange stripes down their sleeves and the sides of their breeches.

  "FIRE!"

  The first Hostigi volley tore into the Ktemnoi front rank as if they were a battery of artillery guns firing case shot. A great cheer rose up from the Hostigi ranks. The second volley and third were almost as devastating; the fourth less so. Still the Ktemnoi squares held. Now the musketeers were supposed to sling their weapons and fall back; instead many picked up the bills of the wounded or dead, while others drew their swords and held their places.

  "Pikes advance. CHARGE!"

  As he began to run toward the Sacred Square straight ahead, he was amazed at how quickly the Ktemnoi rear ranks moved forward to replace their fallen comrades. It was an admirable display of courage. He would make a toast to Galzar after he buried their bones. The remaining Ktemnoi musketeers fired a last ragged volley at almost point-blank range, then fell back, leaving the billmen to take the Hostigi charge.

  There was a cry from ten thousand throats—

  "KILL THE DEMON SPAWN!"

  The billmen began their charge.

  The Hostigi reply came—

  "DOWN STYPHON!"

  The two armies collided with such a shock that the first two Hostigi ranks disappeared before Xykos' eyes. He was eight ranks deep into what had once been the Ktemnoi line before he came to a stop with his pike head buried halfway to the end of its iron head into a billman's hip. He dropped the pike and drew the two-handed sword Boarsbane from its scabbard across his back. He had the sword blade out in time to parry a blow from a billhead. His next stroke sent the edge through the billman's shoulder, splitting him down to his tripes.

  Xykos was trying to free his sword from bone and sinew when another billman charged. The billhook was less than a hand's length from his face when a pikehead pierced the billman's neck and the billhook clanged harmlessly against his helmet. He wrenched his blade free, threw it up into the air and brought it down so hard it split the billman's head in twain, helmet and all.

  He looked around to see who his savior was, but Ktemnoi and Hostigi were so tangled and blood-splattered it was difficult to tell friend from foe. And so jammed together there was no hope of moving to a better spot. Maybe this place was good enough; he could kill Styphoni here as well as anywhere!

  II

  Count Phrames rode over to the left wing at the head of the King's Heavy Horse, two hundred and sixty volunteer noblemen "too thick-headed or well-born to fight in a reasonable fashion," as King Kalvan put it. All of the men-at-arms wore full-plate armor, vambraces, visored helms, heavy lances and at least one pistol in a saddle-holster—their one concession to Kalvan-style warfare. While Phrames realized their limited value, he still couldn't help but respect them for their loyalty to an older and more honorable way of war.

  Warfare under Kalvan was more efficient, but also more deadly than before. Also, much of the pageantry, like that of several hundred men-at-arms in silvered or gilded armor on brightly caparisoned horses, was now all but gone.

  It was the Great King's plan to use the Heavy Horse as an anvil to blunt the wedge of the Zarthani Knights, who had earlier cut through Ptosphes' Army of the Besh like a poniard through a wheel of cheese. By Dralm's Grace, Kalvan was familiar with this novel formation of the Knights and said there was insufficient time to school the Hostigi in the counter wedge.

  So there would be only the anvil of the King's Heavy Horse and the stout hearts of the Hostigi to prevent the Zarthani Knights from dispersing the left wing and outflanking the center as they had at Tenabra. While he rarely wished ill for any man, for Prince Balthar of Beshta Phrames hoped there was an eternity of torture waiting in the Caverns of Regwarn.

  Prince Ptosphes, ten years older from the day of Tenabra, rode out to meet Phrames with a small bodyguard.

  "Reinforcements from Great King Kalvan, Your Highness."

  "I pray to Galzar we can put them to good use. I also pray that King Kalvan did not give us that which he could not afford to spend."

  "No, Sire. If Harmakros' artillery draws off Prince Leonnestros, as Kalvan believes, these men will not be needed. If not, it matters little where they fight so long as they kill many Styphoni and die well."

  "Well spoken, Phrames!" Ptosphes said, with more fervor that the Count remembered seeing since he'd returned from the south.

  Phrames outlined Kalvan's plan and Prince Ptosphes drew up the Heavy Horse into a single line, "en haie" as Kalvan called it. Then he formed up a second line with his own and Prince Sarrask's heavily armed bodyguard and a third line with the household and noble cavalry of Nostor, Sashta and Kyblos. The remainder of mercenary horse, mostly cuirassiers and lancers, and Princely cavalry were to follow in close order under Phrames.

  At the flash of the fireseed signal, the King's Heavy Horse advanced at the center. When they had covered an eighth of the field, the heavy cavalry of Hostigos and Sask moved forward.

  As the red and blue plumes of Prince Ptosphes' bodyguard began to recede, Phrames saw the Zarthani Knights begin their charge. From where he sat on his mount, the tip of the wedge looked like a black lance tip. It almost was, for it was composed of the forward element of eight hundred Brother Knights in blackened plate armor with heavy lances. The Brethren were followed by sixteen hundred Confrere Knights, as many sergeants and eight hundred oath-brothers with javelin and sword. Against light cavalry or scouts, the oath-brothers would have been leading the charge as skirmishers; today they followed at the rear to dispatch the wounded and guard ransom-worthy prisoners.

  At the same moment the third Hostigi line began its charge, Phrames saw the Knights' wedge pierce the Kin
gs' Heavy Horse. The gap grew wider as the Heavy Horse pressed home their charge, then Ptosphes and the second line hit the Knights. Now, Phrames could see that the entire wedge formation was being blunted and slowed down.

  He signaled to his trumpeter who, who blew "Advance," and then cantered out ahead of his men. By the time he was a third of the way down the field the swirling gunsmoke was so thick he couldn't see his own bodyguard who'd quickly moved in front of him.

  Phrames kneed his horse into a gallop and broke out of the smoke less than fifty rods behind the third line at the exact moment it struck the nose of the Knights' wedge. This time the forward Knights didn't break through at once, men and horses clumped together where the two lines joined in a swirl of lances and slamming swords. Slowly the tip of the wedge pushed through the third line, but it was no longer a point but more a truncated pyramid, obviously shaken and—Phrames devoutly hoped—at last vulnerable. He gave the signal and this time all the trumpets blew together.

  "CHARGE!"

  At first impact, Phrames' banner-bearer was hurled out of his saddle, slamming into a Knights' charger and bouncing to the ground—all the while still holding the banner with the Count's device of a golden eagle on a black field. He tottered on his feet for a moment until a passing Knight took off his arm at the elbow with a wicked sword slash.

  Phrames had a moment to ponder that this was the third banner-bearer of his to be killed or mortally wounded since the Battle of Fyk. Suddenly he had a clear shot at the Knight and he shot the man out of his saddle even before he could raise his sword. He stuck the empty pistol into his sash, drawing another from his saddle holster, firing almost at once. Another Zarthani Knight dropped from his black-barded horse and disappeared under his destrier's hooves.

  Some of the Knights began to return fire with their own pistols, then the lines crashed together with a resounding thud, so entwined that neither side dare fire for fear of hitting friendly troopers...

  III

  Harmakros watched with delight as Prince Leonnestros, leading several thousand Ktemnoi noble cavalry, advanced from the Styphoni left wing toward the Army of Observation's forward cavalry skirmishers and their advanced battery. Now, by Dralm, they had a real fighting chance, and that was all he'd ever asked for. "Praise Dralm and Galzar!" he shouted, while to himself he promised the gods he would ask for no more miracles upon this day.

  Leonnestros was leading eight hundred men-at-arms of the Ktemnoi Royal Guard, and two thousand of the King's Pistoleers forward with more contempt for his Hostigi opponents than was wise. He was about to be taught a hard lesson in respect.

  Harmakros' trumpeters sounded the recall to the forward Hostigi mounted skirmishers; he was pleased to see most of them withdrawing toward their infantry support, two crescent-shaped ranks of shot with two ranks of pikemen behind them in support. A few of the Hostigi thickheads stayed to fight and were ridden over by the advancing Styphoni. Before Kalvan it would have been all or most of them; once more it was brought home to Harmakros just how much they owed this wise leader from beyond the Cold Lands.

  By the time the retreating cavalry were safely tucked behind the supporting infantry, Leonnestros' vanguard was in arquebus range.

  Harmakros gave the order for the shot to fire. Fifteen hundred arquebuses and muskets went off almost as one, blowing the Ktemnoi Royal Guard out of existence as an organized military unit. Even without Verkan's Mounted Rifles, the Hostigi dragoons were the best mounted troops in the Hostigos Royal Army and Harmakros—from the devastation he observed—was certain that every third shot had been a hit.

  The Royal Guard might have been mortally wounded, but there was nothing wrong with the King's Pistoleers. They shook out their lines and charged the impudent Hostigi.

  The dragoons got off a second ragged volley, then withdrew behind the pikemen to where their horses were being held. They didn't have to defeat Leonnestros, just tempt him to swallow a tasty piece of bait. In fact, if Leonnestros had any battle savvy that first salvo would have had him considering retreat, but not this commander—already the Royal Pistoleers and surviving Royal Guard were charging the Hostigi pike line.

  The pikemen held off the initial charge, taking about as many casualties as they inflicted. Most of the musketeers and arquebusiers were already mounted and withdrawing in good order. Harmakros gave the order for the pikemen to form a hedgehog and begin their own retreat.

  This was the trickiest part of the whole operation; the pikemen not only had to retreat, but they had to keep their formation, so as not to let the enemy know what was happening behind them, and avoid taking so many casualties that they ceased to be an effective unit. If they succeeded, Harmakros intended to recommend them for one of Kalvan's "Unit Citations."

  As the Ktemnoi Pistoleers gathered for a second charge, Harmakros gave the signal for the advance of the Hostigi regular cavalry. Now, my iron heads, you may die with honor.

  This sudden countercharge by a retreating enemy took Leonnestros and the King's Pistoleers by surprise. Leonnestros, conspicuous in his black and gold armor with orange and blue plumes, tried to rally his men, but they were suddenly thrown into disorder by a force less than a quarter their size. The Pistoleers took almost a hundred casualties before they rallied enough to push the Hostigi cavalry back.

  By this time most of the dragoon pikemen had formed their hedgehog and were moving back to the Hostigi line. Harmakros gave the final signal, two sharp trumpet blasts, and about half the original force of Hostigi cavalry broke off and drove towards the Hostigi lines. The artillerymen, suddenly shorn of protection and support, were the last to leave. Harmakros hoped that someday Alkides would forgive him.

  Waving and gesturing, Leonnestros directed his men toward the abandoned Hostigi redoubt. Harmakros was pleased to note that the Ktemnoi Pistoleers saw little honor or profit in chasing gunners and allowed most of them to evade and retreat.

  The Pistoleers rode past and around the loaded field pieces and came to a halt. For a moment it mass confusion, then it appeared the Harphaxi cavalry were reforming ranks to charge the Hostigi center! Harmakros couldn't believe that that they would stop, but not turn the guns on the Hostigi center. A few of the Pistoleers pointed excitedly at the piled barrels of fireseed the cowardly Hostigi had left behind. In his mind's ear, Harmakros could hear Leonnestros mentally rehearsing his victory speech and gloating over the praise and gold he would receive from Styphon's House and Great King Cleitharses.

  Enjoy the moment while you can, you strutting capon! Harmakros thought. If by some undeserved miracle Leonnestros survived this battle, the only reward he was going to get for disobeying Soton's orders would be the sharp end of the Grand Master's tongue—if not the blunt end of his mace!

  IV

  Grand-Captain Phidestros began to wonder if it had been a good idea after all to make his mad rush to join the Holy Host, when he saw Prince Leonnestros dash madly off toward the Hostigi battery. Grand Master Soton knew his craft, no doubt about it, but his lesser captains from High Marshall Mnephilos on down left much to be desired.

  To do him justice, Phidestros had no idea of what he himself would have done in Leonnestros' boots, not with the Hostigi building an artillery redoubt from which they could hammer the left wing of the Holy Host at will! Great King Kalvan had turned what had once been a straightforward and honest profession into something that made the head hurt as much from thinking as the arse did from riding!

  It was bad enough that the Hostigi seemed to have an improbably large number of heavy guns in the center. Worse still, the Knights' battery was too close to the left wing for even a drinking man's comfort. One of the former Beshtan companies under his command had already lost its banner-bearer and three troopers to friendly fire.

  What was he supposed to do now that Leonnestros had all but deserted his post? Being Grand-Captain of the largest band in the left wing, Soton had put him in nominal command of the mercenary horse under Leonnestros. As he watched Kalvan's musketeers but
cher the Royal Guard, he decided that it would be best to stay where he was. Men newly raised to Grand-Captain and given charge over five thousand horse did not make changes in Grand Master Soton's battle plans without a damned good reason.

  Yet, everyone else—Leonnestros and the Kings Pistoleers, the Sacred Squares and even the Zarthani Knights on the right wing—were engaged with the enemy. Here he sat with Kalvan and more horse than he liked to think about only a march away. What is Kalvan waiting for? Leonnestros to piss his men away against the new battery? Something else that only Kalvan could imagine?

  Phidestros watched as the Hostigi suddenly began to retreat to behind the battery. They had hammered Leonnestros' cavalry: why retreat now? Meanwhile, Leonnestros was trying to regroup his Pistoleers and the surviving Royal Guards. Leonnestros was going to have to take out the battery quickly before all the Hostigi departed and the guns had an open lane of fire on Leonnestros' horse. If he didn't, he was in for a surprise; there wouldn't be enough of him and his command left for Soton to punish. Kalvan-style guns were like nothing any Ktemnoi army had ever faced.

  He was surprised at how quickly the Hostigi pikemen formed into a hedgehog formation and retreated before Leonnestros' Pistoleers. Suddenly the Ktemnoi were at the enemy battery. He was surprised—and uneasy...something was wrong. He'd never seen Hostigi foot retreat so quickly after they had shot the Styphon out of their opponents, neither at Fyk nor at Chothros Heights.

  It's a trap! He had to get a warning off to Leonnestros before he committed his command.

  "Uroth!"

  "Yes, Grand-Captain."

  "No time for a dispatch. Warn Leonnestros to examine Kalvan's demicannon. I suspect treachery; the Hostigi yielded that battery far too easily. Ride like the wind!"