“We will defeat them,” called out the Duke, trying to change the mood before it turned into panic. “They can die, just like the local lizards did, a century ago.”
Patrick focused in on one of the great beasts with his telescope. The creatures all advanced with head forward and counterbalancing tails swishing back and forth. There was a large basket on the back of each of the beasts, with a half dozen musket armed men in residence, as well as the mahout. The snout of a cannon poked offset to the side.
The cannon of the Army of Eire opened fire at that moment. Patrick cringed for just a moment as the iron balls flew overhead. Despite all of his training, one of those balls would smash him in an instant were it fired too low. All of the balls went safely over the troops, into the valley, and splashed into the central stream, over a hundred yards short of the nearest enemy.
“Cease Fire,” yelled a voice up slope. “Wait until you can actually accomplish something.”
The cannon fire ceased and the enemy shook out into a loose formation on the opposite slope. Raptors hissed and were answered by the ones on the Eire side. Carnosaurs roared and the enemy infantry stood unmoving. On the Eire side the infantry was milling a bit, but Patrick was sure they would tighten their ranks as the enemy came closer. That enemy seemed to be content with holding its ground at the moment though. A half hour passed, then an hour, while the soldiers sweated in the sun. The King of Eire was determined to fight from the defensive against this opponent, so his side waited. It seemed the enemy commander was not so set in what he would do. As the sun approached an overhead position he seemed to make up his mind. Horns blared and the enemy began to move.
The cavalry trotted down the slope, at the speed of a sprinting man. The carnosaurs jockeyed to the front, their full speed much less than that of the raptors. Infantry ran behind the cavalry, spears held over shoulders. More of the enemy cavalry spread out to the flanks. It was an obvious tactic even to Patrick’s untrained eyes. The enemy was going to try to smash through the Eire infantry with the carnosaurs, then push through the holes with their raptor cavalry, while the infantry pinned the pikemen to the sides. Just because it was obvious didn’t mean it wouldn’t work. A glance at the soldiers around him, the expressions on their faces, told him that they were worried as well. Then the enemy hit the stream, splashing across the shallow water, and the army knew they were within range.
“Fire,” came the command from the King’s area. The command echoed up and down the lines, relayed by officers. The cannon roared. Muskets barked. Round shot hit the waters of the stream and sent high splashes into the air. Red also splashed, as a few of the shot found targets, knocking down raptors and their riders. One of the large carnosaurs roared as a heavy shot struck it on the right leg. Roared and went down, to the cheers of the Eirish pikemen.
The air was filling with the smoke of gunfire, and visibility on both slopes was becoming a problem. The air was still clear enough down in the valley, especially on the river, which meant the targets of the Eirish artillery were still visible, and the artillerymen and musketeers worked their weapons with the speed of training. The cannon were swabbed, powder was pushed into the barrel and packed down, followed by the shot. Sweating and swearing men moved into position away from the recoil while the gunner applied the match. Cannon roared while fire flew from their muzzles, smoke billowed, and the guns reared back on their carriages. One ball bounced from the water and flew through a formation of infantry, knocking down a half dozen in a mist of red.
Musketeers fired, dropped butts to ground and went through the process of pouring powder, shot, and ramming all home. They pulled their weapons back to their shoulders, adjusted their matches, and fired. Most shots were unaimed, the smoothbore weapons lacking the accuracy to hit a specific target. They killed in their numbers, sending hundreds of balls into the enemy ranks to achieve a few score hits. There was talk of much more accurate rifled weapons reaching the battlefields of the future, but so far they had not materialized.
Individual cavalrymen were going down as well as their mounts, targets of muskets and grapeshot. The cannons and musketeers adjusted their fire as the enemy came on, galling them, but not really slowing the assault. Another large carnosaur went down, then their cannons started to respond.
Cannon were not very accurate. They were intended for use in a stationary position, against an almost stationary foe. Fired from the back of a charging monster they were even less accurate. But accurate enough that some of the balls struck a target as large as a deployed army. Dozens of pikemen were bowled over by the heavy balls. Being professionals the soldiers closed ranks without hesitation. Pikes were lowered, their heads seeking toward the enemy, as they prepared to receive the charge.
The roaring and hissing of raptors caught the monk’s attention. He looked over to the flank, where the two army’s outlying formations struck. The larger enemy raptors had the advantage of size and larger jaws, the smaller speed and maneuverability. The Eirish raptors launched themselves from the height of the slopes into the enemy, dew claws struck, lances thrust and pistols fired. The action devolved into a swirl of blood and death, and it looked like the enemy was checked for the moment.
“Get ready,” yelled the Duke, drawing his sword from its sheath. All the men around him armed themselves and prepared for whatever made it through the pikes. Musketeers worked quickly at reloading, attempting to get off one more volley before the wall of pikes was assailed.
Patrick steadied his shield on his left arm as he reached over his back and gripped the hilt of his sword. He pulled it smoothly from its special sheath, the one constructed so the edge would not contact any material on the way out. He brought the sword down and to the front, watching as the thundering line of enemy reached for the pikes.
Several things happened at once as the enemy met the line. The cannons above them fired a volley, plunging fire into the cavalry ranks behind the front, knocking men from beasts and beasts from life. The Musketeers got off a volley that knocked scores of beasts and men from the battle. And the lances of the cavalry and the points of the pikes tangled in a deafening crash.
In most cases the cavalry lost that clash. The pikes had longer range. The raptors might be willing to charge the wall, but once a lance pierced their flesh they were just as ready to back off. Some pike points took riders out of their saddles. Some lances pierced pikemen in the front ranks. The cavalry charge would probably have failed with greater loss to cavalry than infantry, if not for the carnosaurs.
The big beasts lumbered up to the wall, not charging, but looking and picking. They swiped with their arm claws and snapped with their jaws. One carnosaur got hold of one of the officer’s by the head and lifted him away. The pikemen thrust at the monsters, wounding them, galling them. Several of the carnosaurs were pierced enough to fall to the ground, dying. Even in the act of dying they still caused havoc and deaths. One moved into the line at an angle and pushed a gap open, which the raptor cavalry moved to exploit. One carnosaur leapt at the line. It was hit in mid-leap with a cannon ball, mortally wounding the beast. It fell into the pike line sideways, legs twitching and tail swishing, knocking aside Eirish warriors like nine pins in an alley.
The raptor riders and infantry saw the gaps developing and swept into them, widening the openings. Patrick had to admit that they were brave, to the point of recklessness. He was quickly coming to the opinion that this kind of bravery won battles, even if it was hard on the individual soldier. He pulled himself away from that thinking as the enemy got closer, and he realized he needed all his concentration for the here and now, were he to live to philosophize in the future.
He caught sight of the Hyperborean at the last moment, aiming a musket at the Duke. He doubted the man, sitting on the basket of a carnosaur, even knew who he was aiming at. But from the burnished armor of the Duke, and the rich surcoat over his torso, the warrior must have known it was a man of some importance. As the match descended Patrick threw out his arm and brought hi
s shield in front of the Duke. The matchlock puffed out its smoke, the bullet flew at the Duke and hit the shield, careening off in a shower of sparks. All the sparks were products of the lead ball. The shield was untouched, as always. A couple of other muskets fired at the Duke, or maybe at Patrick. With the lighting reflexes of the Fae he intercepted them all.
The enemy cavalry and infantry widened the hole, and Duke Seamus waved his sword in the air and led the aristocratic footmen into the gap, trying to plug it. Patrick kept the shield at the ready, but was soon having other worries, like keeping himself in one piece.
The first man Patrick faced in the swirling confusion was a footman, thrusting and slicing with his broad bladed spear. The monk took the spear on his shield, then slashed with his own sword. The wondrous blade hit the spear on the metal head, and moved through it as if it were made of air. Half the head fell away, the Hyperborean yelled in surprise, and the yelling stopped as his head leapt from his neck. Patrick pushed the body aside, where it fell against a raptor that snapped at the dead man.
The raptor was the next target. Patrick noted that the rider’s attention was on another Eirish warrior. He thrust his lance forward, the head sliding from the Eirish man’s shield. But this was battle, and there were no considerations for fair play. So Patrick thrust his sword through the leg of the Hyperborean and into the body of the raptor. The man stiffened and yelled while the raptor hissed. Patrick pulled his blade back with a draw cut that severed the man’s leg and sliced into the torso of the beast. The raptor fell, to its other side, pinning the rider’s leg. The man squirmed and screamed, until the Monk allowed his blade to slice through helm and skull and bring the man some slight mercy.
Patrick looked around, trying to catch a view of the Duke. He found him, in a knot of Eirish men who were battling Hyperborean infantry, while the pikemen around them thrust at the cavalry, trying to keep them away. Patrick cursed under his breath as he tried to fight his way back to the Duke. It had been his job to guard the right wing commander. In the excitement of battle he had allowed himself to be moved away. There was no excuse for that. Patrick did everything he could to get back to his charge. But it seemed that the battle kept throwing more obstacles in front of him.
Patrick sliced through the arm of a cavalryman, then took out his raptor’s throat with a back slash. Next he cut through the spear of an infantryman, then through his abdomen with an upward back hand. The sword of the ancients sliced through everything with equal ease. No material could stand before it. In the hands of the skilled monk it was death incarnate.
A lumbering carnosaur stumbled into the way. Patrick raised his shield just in time to block a musket ball fired from the creature’s back. That was followed by a pair of arrows and a long spear, all deflected by the shield of ancient metal. Patrick ducked through the creature’s legs, swinging his blade at the thick right ankle as he passed. Flesh and bone parted as easily as wood and steel. The big carnosaur bellowed as its foot was cut from its leg. Patrick took two more quick steps and did the same to the left leg, then ran away from the carnosaur as it started its heavy fall to the ground. He glanced back and saw that the fall was in his direction. The other troops involved in the battle seemed aware that tons of dinosaur were about to fall on them as well, and scrambled to get away.
Patrick swung his sword back and forth, taking out Hyperborean after Hyperborean. He almost cut down a Eirish warrior, pulling the sword to the side at the last moment. The more he fought, the greater the press between him and the Duke. The Duke seemed to be holding his own, though, supported by the warriors around him. Then one of those warriors turned his back on the action, shielded by a pair of retainers, and approached the Duke from the rear, his blade held down and to the side. Patrick didn’t like the look of that, especially when he recognized the man. Rory.
“My Duke,” he yelled out in a carrying voice. Normally a single man wouldn’t be heard over the din of battle, as thousands of men chopped and slashed, grunted and screamed, while cannon and guns fired. Patrick was trained in using the Fae to amplify his voice, giving it a quality that would be noticed. Hundreds of eyes turned his way. The Duke looked up, puzzlement on his face. Patrick tried to wave the Duke’s attention to his rear, while blocking the blows of a raptor rider who was pressing him. The Duke looked around for a moment, still puzzled. Then the expression changed to one of complete surprise, turning to agony, as Rory plunged his sword into the lower back of the Duke, in the gap between breastplate and armor skirting.
Patrick screamed out in surprise and anger. The Duke had been assassinated, something the King had been concerned enough about, following rumors from his spies, to have a monk assigned to him in battle. And Patrick had allowed himself to get distracted enough to be pulled away from the Duke’s side. But you won't live to spend whatever you were paid, thought Patrick as he glared at the assassin. He started forward again, cutting his way through the press with his magic blade.
The first explosion occurred on the opposite slope, among the second wave of the enemy. A bright flash, followed by gouting dirt into the air, mixed with bodies and pieces of bodies. The shock wave traveled down the slope, knocking man and beast to the ground. And then the flying terrors descended from the sky.
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About the Author
Doug Dandridge is the author of over thirty self-published books on Amazon, including the very successful, Exodus: Empires at War series, the Refuge techno-fantasy series, The Deep Dark Well Trilogy, as well as numerous standalone science fiction and fantasy novels. In a five year period as a self-published author, Doug has sold well over two hundred thousand eBooks, paperbacks and audio books. He has amassed over 5,000 reviews across his books on Amazon, with a 4.6 star average, and a similar number of ratings on Goodreads with a 4.12 star average. He served in the US Army as an infantryman, as well as several years in the Florida National Guard in the same MOS. Doug, who holds degrees from Florida State University and the University of Alabama, lives with his five cats in Tallahassee Florida. He is a sports enthusiast and a self-proclaimed amateur military historian.
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Reviews, ratings and comments on Amazon about this novel are much appreciated. If you liked the story please leave a review that will help others to discover this novel. If you have comments about mistakes I might have made, posting them in a review will tell me what I need to do to grow as a writer and put a quality product out on the net. If you want to see these characters again (at least the ones that survived) a review will let me know I should consider writing in this particular Universe again.
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Books by Doug Dandridge
Science Fiction
The Deep Dark Well Trilogy
The Deep Dark Well: An Adventure 40,000 years in the making. Pandora Latham was a Kuiper Belt Miner from Alabama. She’s used to landing on her feet, even when the next surface is through a wormhole, halfway across the Galaxy and 46,000 years in the Future. Pandora must discover the secret behind the end of civilization, and the enigma of the Immortal Watcher, the last survivor of the Empire that once ruled the stars. Her decisions will set the path for Galactic recovery, or a continuation down the roads of Barbarism.
To Well and Back: Pandora Latham is back, working Watcher’s plan to restore Galactic Civilization. But first she has to deal with the Xenophobes of the Nation of Humanity, back in the Supersystem with their sights set on making the Galax
y their own. Pandora is angry at the hyper religious Nation, and you don’t want to make a woman from Alabama angry.
Deeper and Darker: Pandora Latham is on the warpath. Watcher, her lover, and the only man who can once again unite the Galaxy, is a prisoner of the Totalitarian government of the New Galactic Empire. The Empire thinks they have the upper hand, but they have never faced someone like Pandi, and the peoples of the Galaxy that she has rallied to her cause.
Theocracy: A young gunpowder era monk becomes the only hope for his doomed world as he is caught up in the game of empire between two more advanced cultures.
The Exodus Series
Exodus: Empires at War: Book 1: The introduction to the Exodus Universe. Two thousand years prior mankind fled from the Predatory Ca’cadasans, traveling a thousand years and ten thousand light years to a new home. Now the greatest power of their sector of space, things seem to be going well for the New Terran Empire. Until the enemy appears once again at the gates. And the years have not softened the aliens’ stance toward Humanity.
Exodus: Empires at War: Book 2: The saga continues. The Ca’cadasans attack at the moment when the government of the Empire is at its most chaotic. There are other enemies as well, waiting for their chance to fall on the overwhelmed humans. And a young man with no ambition for power finds himself in the position he most dreads.
Exodus: Empires at War: Book 3: Sean is rescued, but he is not about to go back to the safety of the capital without striking back at the Ca’cadasans who have invaded his Empire. But will his decision put the lives of thousands at risk, as well as risking the safety of his own Empire, by depriving it of its leader.
Exodus: Empires at War: Book 4: Sean is crowned Emperor, and attempts to organize the Empire for war against the Ca’cadasans. But he finds that planning battles and winning battles are two different things. Defeat follows defeat. Can anyone snatch victory from the jaws of defeat? Or will the new Emperor fail before his reign even really begins.
Refuge: Book 5: Angels & Demons Page 36
