After the army had managed to form itself into a relatively straight line, stretching across the valley with no gaps, he gave orders for them to reform into columns, march back to the south, turn around and do it again. It went only slightly better on the second attempt. Edwar, having moved another regiment to the rear, was better able to get his troops on line this time. Donnick, however, remembering that he had formed up too far east at first, moved too far leftward and bunched up against Lamont while leaving a sizable gap between their small band and Boman's troops on their right. Angry and exasperated with his performance, he walked a ways behind his lines, found the spot on the field that marked the approximate center and marked it with a pike, pushing the sharp steel deep into the earth.
When he happened to look toward Aram, the prince nodded his head in approval of this action and then gave the order once more to form into columns and march back to the trees. By the time the sun was straight overhead and he released the men to eat their midday meal, they had repeated the maneuver twice more, and were forming their lines in decent order. The repetition had allowed them to find for themselves where it was that they belonged on the field in relation to their fellows.
Aram was satisfied, for his men were becoming familiar with the ground upon which they would fight, giving them a sense of proprietorship over it. While it would not be exactly like defending their own homes, it would nonetheless seem like their ground which would help them to stand in the face of the enemy.
That afternoon, while Aram conferred with his commanders and walked the ground with them again, they let the men roam free over the wooded hillside where they had made camp, improving their sleeping arrangements, digging latrines and setting up cooking stations. Then, while the sun was still two hours in the sky, Aram gave orders for them to march to north one last time and form a line of battle. Though not accomplished with the same good order as their best attempt of the morning, there were no serious problems, and the men were jesting with one another as they straightened their own lines with very little aid from their captains.
Aram sat astride Thaniel, alternately watching the men and gazing northward, where there was still no sign of dust – the rains of the previous day had no doubt moistened all the earth in that direction as well. Finally he heard the voice that he'd been waiting for come down out of the sky.
“The enemy is encamped just north of the ruins of the ancient town, Lord Aram,” Alvern told him. “Kipwing believes that they will arrive where you are on the second morning from this sundown.”
Aram nodded. “Thank you, Lord Alvern. All that you and your grandson have done is greatly appreciated.”
“I watched the men form upon the field,” the eagle stated. “It was an impressive thing.”
“We are as ready as we can be,” Aram replied simply.
After releasing the troops for the evening, he called all his commanders together and looked around at them.
“We will meet the enemy on the day after tomorrow,” he said without preamble. “I will watch as they come south. Prepare your men in whatever way you deem best. The wolves and I will guard the northern approaches throughout tomorrow night. Blow the trumpet before daylight on the second day, form up, and move to the stream. Any questions?”
For the next hour, they discussed various issues, though for the most part it was simply a verbal exercise in preparing each commander mentally for the work to come.
The next day, while the men drilled in companies and regiments, and were encouraged to walk the field individually if they so desired, Aram, Thaniel, and Durlrang went northward into the grasslands for a mile or so and watched the ribbon of road that curved away across the rolling green of the prairie. Alvern and Kipwing were both in the sky, and would warn him of any change in the movement of the enemy, but Aram had a need to see the approach of Manon's army for himself.
About midday, as Thaniel grazed on the grass to the roadside, Alvern reported that the enemy had moved through the town and was coming straight down the road in one long column flanked by lashers, and that there were several lasher scouts roaming in a wide arc out in advance of the main body. Aram acknowledged this but continued to watch for the next few hours until, late in the day, he saw the tips of pikes flashing reddish-orange in the angled light of the sun and saw the lasher scouts top a rise no more than a mile to his front. They halted when they saw him and then turned back. He continued to sit quietly until it became obvious that the long column behind them had halted as well and was preparing to encamp for the night.
After darkness, when he saw no lights from campfires, Aram looked down at Durlrang. “I believe the enemy has encamped for the night, but I see no fires. I do not know what this means but I want no surprises during the dark hours.”
At once, Durlrang turned and loped toward the southwest, calling his answer back. “I will send my brethren into the prairie to guard against surprise, master.”
After another glance north, Aram went back down the road toward the valley. The sky was clear overhead so he turned aside after crossing the bridge. “I'll camp here next to the road,” he told Thaniel.
“I will stay nearby,” the horse answered.
Durlrang arrived sometime later to report that the wolves were spread out across the plains about a mile north of the stream, to stand guard against clandestine activity on the part of the enemy.
“Good,” Aram acknowledged, and then he looked into the wolf's eyes. “I want you to stay with your people tomorrow, Durlrang,” he said. “The battlefield will not be good place for a lone wolf, especially in the middle where I will be.”
The wolf sat back on his haunches and gazed at him with obvious dismay. “Why do you seek safety for me when you will seek none for yourself, master?”
“Forgive me, my friend,” Aram answered carefully. “But I am not trying to keep you safe. Your people will be better organized with you at their head, and we will need every warrior to do his best tomorrow. Shingka is not among us,” he reminded the old wolf.
“No,” Durlrang agreed, “and she will be missed. But Leorg is among us, and Padrik is clever, nearly as clever as Leorg, and Barcur and his kin are fierce; they will have no need of me.”
Aram met the wolf's gaze for a long moment in silence. He was loath to give direct orders to Durlrang even though he knew they would be obeyed without question. Try as he might, he could not make himself view the wolf as a servant, only as a friend. “My left flank worries me,” he said then. “Your people will be deployed along the top of the rocky ridge to the west. I know you better than anyone, including Leorg, and you know me in turn. I would be more comfortable if you were there to keep me informed of any dangers and to bring your people into action at the best time.”
There followed another long silence. Both of them knew what Aram wanted and why he wanted it, but Durlrang did not wish to leave Aram's side, especially in the midst of a battle and Aram could not bring himself to render the request as an order.
Then, at last, Durlrang stood and looked toward the sunset. “I will fight with my people tomorrow, Lord Aram,” the wolf stated.
Aram breathed a sigh of relief. “Have you eaten?” He asked.
“No.” The wolf looked eastward, into the darkened hills. “But I will go now.”
“Hunt well, my friend. Wake me before dawn.”
Durlrang moved into the night. “I will, master.”
15.
Dawn broke cool and humid. A few minutes after Durlrang nudged Aram awake, he heard the sound of trumpets ringing to the south among the wooded hills. Above the crags to the east, the sky was slowly brightening. He looked down and found Durlrang in the gloom. “Any news of the enemy?”
“Padrik states that in the night scouts were sent far enough south that they saw the fires of your men in the hills,” the wolf answered, “but there was no movement of the main force. It remains encamped to the north.”
Aram looked up into the sky where the brighter stars yet shone. Alvern and K
ipwing would probably still be among the crags, but would inform him of the enemy's movement as soon as it grew light enough to take flight. In the pale dimness of the predawn, he pulled on his golden armor and then dressed into the black armor from Regamun Mediar. When the light strengthened sufficiently, he began to outfit Thaniel into his armor.
“The grim lord will learn something this day,” the horse stated quietly.
Turning from fastening the stays on Thaniel's armor, Aram looked at him and waited.
Thaniel swung his great head around. “He will learn that his enemy is stronger than he imagined and that his army is no match for free people who are willing to fight.”
“I pray that you are right,” Aram said quietly.
The horse moved his head as far as the armor would allow, until he was looking nearly straight at Aram. His voice rang sharp into Aram's mind. “Put doubt far from you, my lord. These men have come to fight – they will fight.”
Aram met the horse's gaze for a long moment and then nodded once and returned to his task. “I will doubt no more, my friend.”
As the morning lightened, more trumpets sounded to the south and men began to spill from the trees. Over the next hour, the captains roused all of their soldiers, extracted them from the woods and formed them into columns. Then the trumpets sounded again and the army began the march across the valley toward the north.
Moments later, Kipwing called down out of the brightening sky. “The enemy comes, Lord Aram. They will close on your position before the sun is three hours in the sky.”
“Alright,” Aram replied simply, and continued to watch as his army moved toward him in several columns. There was no jesting or ribaldry on this morning. Everyone seemed to know what lay in store for them as the sun broke above the hills and started its climb into the morning. Aram moved out onto the road as the men approached and Findaen and Andaran and Nikolus and Jared arrived with the cavalry, accompanied by Wamlak and his small band of mounted archers.
Aram moved close to Nikolus and Jared. “Form up here in the road,” he told them. “Protect Boman's right wing and watch for an opportunity to flank the enemy if things go our way.”
“Watch for opportunities? We will make opportunities, my lord,” Jared replied fiercely, while Nikolus grinned, albeit with a measure of nervousness.
Aram managed a tight smile in reply. “Nothing rash now, Jared. I need this flank kept safe.” Turning to Wamlak, he motioned toward the center of the field. “Stay where you have a good view of the action,” he told the archer. “If they threaten to break through, pour your arrows into them. You are very few, so make each one count.”
Wamlak nodded without speaking and then moved his band of forty or so out onto the grasslands in the rear of the troops that were even now pouring to the left and right out of their columns and into lines of battle. The captains shouted and cursed as the line bunched or became segmented, and they worked to create a solid line of bristling spears across the north end of the valley ten yards shy of the banks of the stream.
Aram looked at Findaen. “Work the lines with me when things start, Fin. We need to keep a solid front – no gaps.”
Findaen inclined his head as he and Andaran moved away. “Yes, my lord.”
“And stay safe,” Aram called after him.
In response to this, a small tight grin crossed Findaen’s face as he turned to look back, but he made no reply.
At last the troops were on line.
Aram looked down at Durlrang. “The left flank is yours,” he said.
Durlrang met his gaze for a long moment and then loped away toward the rocky ridge to the west.
Across the way, on the rolling prairie to the north, there was nothing to be seen, but Aram thought that he could hear the heavy tramping of boots rumbling southward along the road somewhere beyond the grassy rise. Eventually, however, he decided that it was his imagination, for though he strained his ear to the north, the sound did not grow. In fact, whether imagined or real, it faded away until the morning stillness was broken by nothing except the soft susurration of the breeze as it moved among the tall springtime grasses, the gurgling of the brook, and an occasional muttered curse or the rippling of low laughter from among the long lines of men.
As the sun rose ever higher above the hills, and the morning warmed, an air of tense expectancy settled over Aram's army. The men were formed in three ranks, with a triple row of reserves behind Boman's front lines and a larger reserve force positioned behind Edwar's forward troops. Donnick and his Derosans were placed solidly in the middle but without reserves. Wamlak and his archers acted in that capacity, formed in one line about thirty yards to Donnick's rear. The horses of the cavalry stamped their hooves on the stone paving of the road and shifted their weight nervously, but still there was no sign of Manon's force.
The quiet thickened until it seemed both deafening and oppressive.
And then, abruptly, there was movement to the north. Six lashers appeared at widely separated points atop the grassy rise beyond the stream, and at the same moment Alvern's voice came down. “The enemy is forming his lines, Lord Aram. They will approach you within the hour.”
The lashers studied Aram's deployment for several minutes and then as abruptly as they had appeared went back down the slope to the north and out of view.
Aram looked up at the sun, now three hours above the hills, and then spoke to Thaniel. The horse began moving toward the center of the lines, where Findaen sat on Andaran at the point where Lamont and Derosa came together. The lashers reappeared on the rise opposite and again looked the situation over but this time they conferred in a group near the center. Then, once more, they pivoted and disappeared from sight.
Most of another hour passed.
A low reverberation, muffled but persistent, began to grow beyond the grassy knoll.
The enemy appeared.
The tips of pikes, glinting in the sun, rose above the grassy slope and began to jut into the sky, as if growing out of the prairie itself. Shortly afterward, a wide gray mass of lean, hunched soldiers crested the rise and began to spill over the top, like the dark wave of an ocean's rising tide. The enemy approached in a broad front, overlapping Lamont by at least a hundred yards and even spreading beyond the road to the east. Watching the thousands pouring over the crest, Aram realized that Kipwing had been fairly correct in his estimation. They were outnumbered just about exactly two-to-one.
The long, deep line of gray men, moving down the face of the slope, had a grimmer look to them than those that Aram had encountered before. These were obviously some of Manon's best, hardened and experienced. And they had come to kill.
The enemy ranks came to a halt partway down the forward slope just as a horde of lashers appeared on top of the hummock behind them.
As his gaze swept the long lines of the enemy and noted the several thousand lashers, many of whom were harbigurs, Aram felt his insides tighten and grow cold. He had known that this first battle would not be easy, but judging by the grim host that faced them, it could very well turn out to be a desperate thing indeed. He looked along the lines of his own men, trying to gauge how they were reacting to the fearsome sight across the way. Most simply stared forward, grim-faced, but more than a few exchanged uneasy glances with their fellows. A few glanced nervously his way.
Aram started to speak to Thaniel, intending to move out in front of the lines and encourage the men by placing himself between them and the enemy, but at that moment a lasher of enormous girth and height came through the dark lines opposite and strode out into the front. Aram stared, stunned by the size of this monster. The massive beast let his gaze rove up and down Aram's lines for some few moments and then he turned and began to make alterations to the disposition of his troops.
Aram looked along the lines of his men once more, noting the stiffened postures that indicated heightened anxiety. These men, most of whom had never seen a lasher or looked upon the grim gray hosts that made up the bulk of Manon's army, w
ere now face-to-face with that of which they had only heard, and many were feeling terror arise in their breasts.
Something had to be done to break the mood of strengthening fear.
Aram looked down at Thaniel. “Move out in front of the men.”
Donnick saw them come and addressed his troops. The lines parted and the horse went down over the bank and moved out to the middle of the stream. A few men looked at Aram expectantly, but most were still gazing across at the gathering host as if mesmerized by the fearful sight.
Aram drew the sword.
The sun was bright and the sky overhead was cloudless. Within moments, the song of the weapon arose clear and strong, keening through the clear air, resounding inside Aram's steel helmet. Fire gathered along its length and unchecked by Aram, shot into the air, sizzling and crackling.
And then they were all looking at him.
Sheathing the sword, he rode slowly up and down the line, Thaniel's hooves splashing in the shallow waters of the brook, and delivered the same short exhortation to each section of men.
“Hold the line, be brave; stand with the men next to you and we will prevail. There are more of them than there are of us,” he admitted candidly, “but we fight for freedom while they fight for slavery. Our cause is just. Stand strong and we will win the day.”
He made two full circuits of the lines, meeting as many sets of eyes as was possible, and as he passed he saw the men begin to reach down inside themselves, to tamp down fear and draw courage from the deep well of the knowledge that their cause was right and worthy of the moment. Several of them, holding their pikes in their right hands, raised their left to him in the sign of a determined fist as he and Thaniel passed by.
Kelven's Riddle Book Four Page 13
