Dark Path: Book Three of the Phantom Badgers

by RW Krpoun

  At sundown the Lieutenant gave a short speech to the assembled company, posted a guard roster, and retired to his quarters to wrap up any paperwork before getting a well-earned night’s sleep; industry was fine and good, but a leader or a unit burns out very quickly with inadequate rest.

  Dawn saw a second officer’s meeting in the dining hall; present were Axel, Helmuth, Hanns, Rudolf, Gottri, Starr, Rolf, Kroh, and Corporal Nowotney. Administrative matters were discussed over a quick, if heavy, breakfast served by Rosemary, who was in a good humor because of the added demands on her kitchen. Once the meal was over and the table wiped down, Axel spread out the map and called the council to order.

  “This is where the Goblins will have made camp, and should be right now.” He laid a silver shilling ten miles south of Southline creek. “This is the blocking position.” A gold Mark indicated the spot. “Eclipse came in about an hour ago with updated information: the Goblins are keeping to their bearing, so there shouldn’t be any problems with where we’ve chosen to meet them. According to our reports, they break camp not long before dawn; scouts leave first, with the main body pulling out a half-hour later. The scouts will reach the Southline about noon, the main body not long after, and we’ll be in position and waiting for them long before then. The question is whether they join battle this afternoon, wait for darkness, wait for tomorrow, or try to side-step us and head in to pillage and loot.”

  Axel paused for a drink of wine. “The last is unlikely; as it would open them up to a rear attack; a night engagement would have some advantages, especially since Goblins can see better at night than we can, but it also requires better unit coordination than I think this bunch has, based on our reports, and the delay would allow us more time to dig in. In any case, I feel it’s safe to say that we will be in battle within the next thirty-six hours, quite possibly this afternoon or early evening.”

  “Our plan is simple enough. We will march in one hour, reaching our position in about ninety minutes. We’ll deploy into our positions, assemble the artillery, and begin improving our line with a stake belt and similar barriers. The Goblin scouts should be along in a couple hours. Silver troop will have the right wing, Blue troop will have the left wing, and Gray troop will have the center. Lightning section will set up in the gap between Silver and Gray, and myself and Hawk troop will set up between Gray and Blue. This makes for a linear formation, nothing fancy, nothing hard to maintain. Our line will be at the north end of the field, out of the range of short bows from the trees at the south end of the field. To avoid being flanked, we’ll improve the rock fences to the east and west with stakes. The Goblins could still try and flank us, but it would mean assaulting us while we are behind a low wall, which is pretty foolish. Their best bet will to deploy into the south end of the field and come straight for us, and that’s what I’m hoping they do.”

  “The reports have been refined, but the odds haven’t changed much since the first assessment. These aren’t bad odds as you need a minimum of three-to-one advantage in numbers to break a line when the troop quality is equal, and the Goblins would seem to be a little short.” Helmuth waited for the groans that followed his pun to cease before going on. “Our people are familiar with Titans, so the only real fear value will be the Trolls and perhaps the bears. All we have to do is hold our line until the Goblins lose heart, and the day will be ours.”

  “Exactly,” Axel nodded. “We can win this. With a victory under our belt the Spider will be less likely to invade again, and the Ravenmist will have more confidence and capability. Any observations? Fine. Helmuth, take the drawing of the field and brief the priestess and the Doctor on where they are going to set up. I want the company and wagons ready to march in thirty minutes. Starr, Rolf, Kroh, stay a minute.”

  When the others had left Starr grinned. “Let me guess: we’re going to be a surprise for the Goblins.”

  “Right,” the Lieutenant nodded. “You three are well armored, armed with enchanted weapons, experienced in operating together, and skilled to a fine degree. Nothing in the Spider force can match you except the shaman, trolls, bears, or by sheer numbers. I’m not very worried by the Goblins; there aren't enough to break the Ravenmist if all other things are equal. They have spiders, we have artillery; they have dogs, and we’ve got Hawk section and twenty crossbows. It’s the shaman, trolls, and bears that concern me, in that order, and it’s that target list that you’ll be aimed at. Above all, don’t let yourself get pinned down and overrun; Goblins might not be much one-on-one, but the odds can stack up fast. No doubt they’ll have flank and rear security out, so expect to have to kill a few Goblins before the main event. Once we move into position, slip away and take up position south of where the Goblins should deploy. Rolf will be in command on this mission; with the projected increases in the size of the Company, you three are likely to be Corporals before next spring, and each of you has to begin learning to lead. I know all of you are friends, but Rolf is the acting-Serjeant on this mission. Remember that.”

  The Ravenmist marched through the gates of Oramere within ten minutes of their projected time, an untidy formation of armed farmers, townsmen, and loggers trailed by the wagons and war engines. They did not cut a very military figure as they trudged along, each militiaman burdened not only by arms and armor, but also by bedrolls, haversacks, and all too often, a heavy bag of equipment the individual considered essential. Within the first mile some of the militia were discarding some or all of the latter, quickly discovering one of the first lessons of soldiering: travel light.

  Axel, seated on a wagon’s seat, wasn’t too discouraged by the sight of them. Most had participated in the spider hunts, and all had been on patrols below the Southline; the latter had not seen action, but at least had served to set the seriousness of the business on the troops. A few of the corporals, Nowotney amongst them, had served in the Imperial Legions, and some of the others had been trained in the Imperial Militia, giving the Ravenmist a solid core. All but the handful of outsiders were fighting for hearth and home, a motivation that would count for much, the Badger officer knew. He had given them a short speech yesterday evening on that subject, and another before starting the march, as well as repeating the message in the Corporal’s meeting last night.

  As the potato field hove into view and the straggling sections gave a weak cheer, the Lieutenant nodded to himself. Here they would make a stand, and here they would win, by the grace of the Light. Everything the Badgers had fought for nine years was on the table in a couple acres of tilled ground that had been forest last year. If the Ravenmist could hold the Badger’s little colony would last; if not, then Oramere would ultimately fall, as an isolated hold shorn of outside help would strangle like a cut vine. Lose here, and the little enclave would be a hell of burnt houses, pillaged barns, rape, and slaughter.

  Helmuth trotted by, mail jingling; the burly veteran slapped the wagon’s side as he passed. “Just two hundred dead Goblins from victory,” he yelled, grinning.

  Axel grinned back. “That’s all,” he agreed, loud enough for the troops to hear. “Just like chopping wood, there’s only so many to a cord.” ‘And hopefully, it would be the Ravenmist making the tally after the chopping’, he though privately.

  The alternative rode his shoulders like armor made of lead.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Well, it looks like they’re getting ready,” Helmuth observed, studying the milling Goblins just visible in the trees across the dirt track at the south end of the field. The sound of an onager’s release punctuated the Ravenmist Lieutenant’s comment, followed by a crash as the five-pound projectile plowed into the greenery. “Looks like Nowotney’s getting closer. As I was saying, looks like a daylight attack.”

  Axel nodded. “He’s giving the trees a hard time, and Goblin morale as well, no doubt. Yes, I would say we’re going to be at it shortly, just like old times, eh?”

  The Mayor laughed a little hollowly. “I don’t think we were ever this green, Axel, not even
in the early days. Still, I’ve seen worse: at least they’re willing. Hold the units in place and we’ll pull it off, the Eight know we’ve been through worse. Well, I’m off to my troop. Be careful, wizard.”

  “You too, old friend.”

  Axel moved back to his command group, which consisted of the Hawk section archers and his four runners. The Goblins had not shown up until nearly an hour past noon, additional time the defenders had put to good use. All the bundles of stakes had been carefully planted, the healer’s area was set up, knee-breaker holes were dug in mid-field, some artfully hidden, and two good woodsmen positioned in the trees fifty paces to either flank to warn of any moves by the Goblins from those directions. There had even been time for Nowotney to range in his onagers and for range stakes to be paced off and planted to give the archers accurate distance references to aid their accuracy.

  Halabarian had arrived moments before the first Goblin yasama, or scouts, to report that there was little news to report.

  There was still three hours before dark, but it appeared as if the Goblins were going to forgo a night action, at least for the first attack. No doubt the yasamas’ reports of bundles of torches and readied bonfires for illumination had weighed heavily in that decision.

  The Wizard studied the deployment of his band. The field was a hundred yards wide at this point; the three troops were deployed in line, each man shoulder to shoulder and the flanks anchored on the piled-stone boundary fences, which had been augmented by stakes, freshly-cut trees, and rope barriers. Hawk and Lighting sections filled the gaps between the three troops, giving the Ravenmist a continuous line, the whole fronted with a stake belt fifteen feet deep, which included the bundled stakes they had brought, scores of freshly-cut stakes. Scattered amongst the stakes were hundreds of rusty iron caltrops, ugly devices made by twisting three large nails together until they resembled a vicious child’s jack. The caltrops were allowed to rust to decrease their visibility on the ground and increase the chances of infection to any wounds they inflicted.

  The troops themselves were nervous but willing; the sounds of low conversation and occasional strained laugher rose from the sections, which were seated in the positions they would occupy in the line, the corporals and troop leaders circulating to keep the men’s spirits up. Only Lighting section was active; Nowotney had brought over a hundred carefully rounded stones for his weapons, and had sent one into the brush every couple minutes since the Goblins had arrived. Axel had approved of this activity, and had dispatched two wagons back to Oramere to bring up another two hundred prepared stones to ensure a plentiful supply. Although there was no indication that any Goblins had been injured by the artillery fire, it had served to polish Lighting section’s skills and heartened the company as a whole.

  Nowotney had apparently noted the Goblin’s activities for what they were; he had his crews swarming over the two stubby little catapults replacing the tension ropes with fresh ones in anticipation of battle. The onagers, simple wheeled field engines much beloved by the Imperial Legions, were capable of throwing a twenty pound projectile a considerable distance, although lighter ammunition was usually used for transport economy and to save wear on the tension ropes. The weapons were often called ‘mules’ as the shock of release generally lifted the weapon’s rear frame off the ground a foot or two, ‘kicking’ like an angry mule. Axel knew that the weapons were only going to be of moderate use in an engagement of this size, but had brought them along for the boost that they would give to morale. Light ballista would have been much more practical, but the weapons had not been available in the spring when Durek had gone weapon-shopping.

  The three-Badger assault team had chosen a dry streambed a mile from the south end of the field, and had moved into it three hours before the Goblins had arrived, Starr having carefully erased the signs of their passage. They remained in position, napping and playing draughts using pebbles and a board-pattern cut into the dirt, sending Starr out periodically to see if the Goblins had arrived yet.

  When the Purple Spider main body had moved into position, and had been carefully scouted by Starr, the three crept to a new position about three hundred yards south of the Spider’s south picket line, which was manned by Goblin sentries alert to the possibility of a surprise attack. Every fifteen minutes or so the little Lanthrell slipped out to survey the Goblin dispositions; it was essential that the three Badgers not mount their raid until the Purple Spider had committed itself to an assault, or they would be overwhelmed before they could withdraw.

  A grimy Halabarian trotted up to Axel as the Lieutenant was issuing last-minute orders. The tall Threll waited until the Wizard had sent his runners off and could pay attention. “As you’ve no doubt noted, the Goblins are ready to march. I’ve just finished a circle of their force, and their dispositions are as follows: three Seraos, or companies, of sixty jugata each will mount the main attack, one aimed at each troop in your line. A Serao of twenty veterans will follow up the likeliest assault. The dogs and Titans will precede this first wave, and the Trolls and bears are being held in reserve. The shaman is set up opposite the center of your line with the Goblin command group. There’s a dozen or so guards there, and more covering their rear picket line.”

  “Any sign of the Spider trying for a sneak attack on our flank or rear?”

  “None; they’ve come to the conclusions you wanted them to: they’ll try to smash you with brute force and mop any survivors with sheer weight of numbers. Unfortunately, they might be correct in their thinking.”

  Axel grinned. “Not hardly; if it were that easy the Spider wouldn’t be in such bad shape. Find yourself a good spot for archery and don’t skimp on the arrows, we’ll make good your expenses and more.” He didn’t bother to watch the Lanthrell leave, but instead turned his attention to the Goblin lines. He knew where the shaman was without Halabarian’s help; the Goblin spellcaster had erected a ward against missile fire that Axel could feel like a distant toothache. He himself disdained such defensive posturing, magic-wise, as wasted energy. For one thing, unless the Goblins had a good Watcher along, the shaman wouldn’t know where he, Axel, was until the first significant spell was cast, and that might be too late. The Badger officer knew that the first priority for him as a Wizard would be to incapacitate or eliminate his opposite number. He slipped an Orb of Warding from his pouch and rolled the green glass globe between his fingers, frowning thoughtfully at the center of the Goblin lines.

  The Goblins were in surprisingly good order; no doubt they had learned the value of discipline in their battles with the Legions and Militias. These Tribal Goblins were darker-skinned than their cave cousins, more a mud color than brick-clay red, although just as round-headed and fox-eared. They wore sleeveless jerkins of rough green cloth over whatever armor they possessed, the hems and arm-openings fringed and fraying to better help them blend in with the underbrush. All carried spears or polearms, with small axes, clubs, and the occasional short sword as secondary arms. Most had wicker shields, with a few leaders carrying leather stretched over wood rims. Axel couldn’t tell at this distance, but he knew from his scouts’ reports that many of the polearms and spears were iron, not steel, and not a few were flint or volcanic glass.

  Rolf studied the designs Starr had carved into the dirt to represent the Goblin deployments, the weight of command bearing down hard on him. “There’re a dozen guards, and ten or so other Goblins, plus two riding Titans in the command group. All three reserve elements are within easy distance of the center, too,” the big Badger shook his head. “So the shaman is out. Too many watching that area, and by the time we cut our way to him, if we cut our way to him, he would have plenty of time to blast us.”

  “The Trolls?” Kroh grinned. “I hates Trolls, never killed one before, though.”

  “The Trolls,” Rolf nodded, tapping the mark. “Off here to the left, west, side of Goblin lines. We circle around and hit them, with nobody behind us. Make a big enough racket doing it, and maybe this Serao of veterans th
ey’re holding to exploit a breach will pitch in. We could draw them away from the main battle and really mess things up for the Spider.”

  Starr sighed. “Trolls don’t die easy.”

  “Nothing does, unless you hit them just right,” Rolf shrugged. “That’s why we’re the best, because we know where to hit.”

  A hush seemed to fall over the field as the Purple Spider emerged from the trees. Axel had seen it before, the strange quiet before battle was joined. In the eerie silence he could hear every distinct rattle as the Militiamen stood and jostled into position. Then Nowotney let loose with his first onager, and a shaped rock plowed into a Goblin Serao, shattering the silence with screams and howls. A roar rose from the Goblin force as they charged, and was echoed, much to Axel’s relief, from the waiting Ravenmist line.

  As jeers and catcalls were hurled by the waiting militia the Wizard tossed the sling-bullet sized Orb into the air and deftly halted its motion at the top of its ascent with a feather-light application of mental force. Lifting it to about twelve feet high, he sent it south at a walking pace, carrying it rather than throwing, paying close attention to the nagging tug of the shaman’s spell. The Goblin had, for maximum protection, anchored the spell on his person, rather on an item, making tracking him an easy matter. Unless his foe was far more skilled than himself, the Badger wizard’s simple spell would be insufficient to give his position away.