“Sir, shall I delay the battle?” Zoya asked.
Githinji retrieved his helmet and placed it on his head. He blinked a few times to remove the sunspots in his vision. Thankfully, his red visor quickly filtered out the harsh light bouncing off the armor of the deadliest soldiers he’d ever known.
“We shall delay nothing, Zoya,” Githinji said as he mounted his horse again.
“Is there something I should know?” Zoya asked.
Githinji considered how to answer her. Zoya was his most loyal soldier. He didn’t have to keep secrets from her. He definitely didn’t want her attention distracted. She was a professional, but sometimes the strangest thought could infect a person, even amid battle.
“General Tosaca has whispered rumors into our leader’s ears,” Githinji said.
“Ekundayo?” Zoya asked. “What happened?”
“It’s nothing to worry about.” Githinji flicked his fingers away from himself. “Tosaca is a snake who will lie when there’s no risk to getting punched in the face. I’m not the coward he is. I won’t abandon my soldiers moments before a fight, will I?”
The Black Cloud soldiers in hearing range cheered as a possessed entity. Githinji smiled at their dedication and bravery.
“Ekundayo will like my gift. After the battle, I’ll return, not before,” Githinji said.
“Understood, sir,” Zoya said.
“However, Tosaca’s treachery has forced me to change our battle plan. We’ll shell the ring fortress with everything at once. I want all four sides barraged. Then, we’ll charge the city.”
“Charge it, sir?”
“Yes, with the pachymules. Make sure the beast masters are prepared. We’ll rain cannonballs on them, then have the pachymules smash through the rubble. While those subhuman bastards are dusting themselves off, we’ll charge through. It won’t take more than a few hours.”
“No terms, sir?”
“None. People like this don’t deserve them.”
“It’ll take time to coordinate the change with the other brigades,” Zoya said.
“There isn’t time to wait for confirmation the changes were received. Observe.” Githinji pointed at the ring fortress.
Zoya pulled her binoculars and watched. Githinji stared through his own. The Vikisotes wore their inferior leather armor and had their weapons drawn. Many archers were moving to line the walls around the ring fortress. It was pathetic. They couldn’t reach his formations at this range, but his cannons could reach them.
Zoya pointed at the soldiers nearest her and issued orders. These soldiers galloped on their horses to link up with signal soldiers. The message would get out, but his cannons on the south side were supposed to fire last. When they shot out of sequence, Githinji was confident the others would understand their implied tasks.
“Zoya.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Let it begin.”
“Yes, sir.”
Githinji reached down and patted his horse twice. Although a black stallion may have looked more impressive with his armor, Githinji enjoyed his white and brown painted horse. She was always calm in battle, but soothing her before the opening salvo always seemed to help.
It was only a few moments before the first cannons blasted. He had four batteries lined up on each gate. Githinji watched through his binoculars as the first cannonballs exploded. It brought a smile to his face as the archers on the south wall launched into the sky and came down in pieces. Vikisotes scurried about inside the ring fortress. Women and children hid. It was a shame they’d become victims, but today’s boy was tomorrow’s enemy. Githinji considered it mercy to end their lives quickly.
Next, the trebuchets launched their barrels. The brown bombs soared high into the sky. His cannons had focused on the walls and gates. They had the punch to break the infrastructure; plus, it rattled an enemy to see his protection crumble around him. The barrels, on the other hand, were for the people inside. They easily arced over the walls and exploded among their homes and streets. Jagged scraps of metal spread from each explosion and amputated Vikisotes with ease. Some barrels had short fuses. They exploded high and rained down. Others had exceptionally long fuses. Githinji delighted in picturing Vikisotes staring at an unexploded barrel with dread moments before it turned them into pink mist.
The cannons fired non-stop for over thirty minutes. The brigades on the other three gates soon realized what they had to do. Even if the Vikisotes had wanted to exit the gates and fight to the death, it would have been futile. The bottlenecks at each gate were deathtraps. Dead bodies would clog the exits before Githinji ran out of cannonballs. It almost wasn’t fair. Actually, it definitely wasn’t fair, but whoever said war was?
“Do you suppose they’ve had enough, Zoya?” Githinji asked.
He could hear the excitement in her voice when she responded. “I think so, sir. I want to make sure there are some for my troops to play with.”
Githinji nodded. “As do I. Have the beast masters send in their pets.”
“With pleasure, sir.”
Horns blew. The cannons and trebuchets ended their attack. Githinji afforded himself a moment to confirm the chaos. Through his binoculars, he saw Vikisotes wail by their dead and wounded. Packs of warriors assembled and rushed to the gates closest to them. They seemed to know their best chance of escape was now. Simple people. They would learn.
Men and women dressed in bright red cloth uniforms stepped forward. They had capes that tied into their sleeves. They looked more like clowns for a child’s entertainment than highly trained soldiers responsible for one of his most casualty-producing weapons.
The men and women spoke in a foreign language. Zoya had told him once which it was, but he’d forgotten. The heavy stomp of dozens of pachymule footsteps rattled his body. Murmurs from the infantry standing behind Githinji filled his ears. He understood. After all these years, even he watched in awe as the ten pachymules on this gate pressed forward.
The animals weren’t the swiftest, but their exceptional height meant that even a steady pace was still fast compared to a human. The ten beasts trumpeted from their long trunks. Githinji heard the pachymules attacking the other gates echo the trumpet. Men stormed the exit of their damaged gates. Githinji had expected this. He pumped his right arm once. A barrage of cannon fire launched over the heads of the pachymules and collided into the center of the pack of Vikisotes spilling out of the rubble and craters left by the initial attack.
The cannons fired only once each, but the devastation they caused halted the rapid retreat. The survivors abandoned their wounded and raced back inside their “fortress.” The lead pachymules stomped over the bodies. Githinji winced when he saw a red spray after a pachymule stepped on a wounded Vikisote who no longer had legs.
“Zoya, make sure our artillery keeps the Vikisotes penned inside their capital. One or two may slip away, but a group of more than five will be engaged,” Githinji said.
“Yes, sir. They already have those orders,” Zoya answered.
“Good.”
Zoya was the perfect protégé.
For another hour the giant pachymules stampeded throughout the ring fortress. They crushed crops. Buildings imploded and collapsed. Occasionally, a beast master would fold his hands and move to the rear of the formation. This indicated the animal had perished or was so wounded that it no longer responded to the mental link between them. It didn’t make much sense to Githinji. All he knew was only four beast masters continued to concentrate on the fortress below them. Githinji hoped the other brigades were having better luck with their pachymules. Through his binoculars, Githinji could see the giant gray animals rampaging among the people. There was a lot of dust and smoke. It was impossible to keep track of them all.
Another barrage of cannon fire drew Githinji’s attention to the south gate. More bodies were added to the pile. Suddenly all four remaining beast masters left as one.
“What just happened?” Githinji demanded.
“The
Namerians are engaging. They drew in our animals, but the pachymules couldn’t get past a magic shield. Their elementalist finished them with her magic,” the lead beast master answered.
“I understand. Zoya.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Have one more barrage of cannons just to shake them up, then it’ll be time to say hello.”
“Understood, sir.”
Zoya gave the orders. The cannons fired. Githinji drew his sword and pointed it at the ring fortress. It was large, possibly a thousand meters in diameter, but every centimeter had been targeted. Even with Namerian magic, there couldn’t be too many survivors. Just enough to get prisoners.
“Charge!” Githinji screamed.
The cavalry up front raced ahead of the infantry. They galloped at full speed. Githinji prided himself in taking the lead. He wouldn’t be one like Tosaca to wait behind his troops to gain a victory.
As Githinji neared the gate, a group of Vikisotes on horseback charged out, seven in all. His cavalry was too close to turn, so the cannons would no longer fire. Githinji considered letting them go, but the soldier in him demanded he personally see to these cowards.
“Zoya, with me. The rest of you continue through the gate!” Githinji shouted.
Zoya followed. Conventional wisdom suggested a commander should never be alone with the next commanding officer. Githinji didn’t care. He’d already won this battle. He wanted to show off how good he still was with a sword. Plus, he wanted to make sure she could still handle her own in melee combat.
The Vikisotes looked over their shoulders. They frantically whipped their horses to try to escape. Any fool could see their animals were in poor shape. The rear woman’s horse was clearly spurting blood into the air with each step. This woman was the first whom Githinji caught up to. She didn’t even look back as he swiped with his sword. Her head rolled down the left side of the horse while her body dropped to the right.
Githinji sheathed his sword. The remaining six were pushing their mounts hard to reach the slopes leading into the forest. Between the mountains and the forest, there were many places to hide. Githinji had to get them first.
He pulled his pistol and aimed at the back of the man in front of him. His hand bounced around as his horse raced. Githinji calmed his breathing as he aimed. When the moment was right, he squeezed his trigger. The ball caught the man in the small of his back. The man reflexively reached back before falling off his horse. He hit the ground hard. The man writhed as Githinji’s horse passed him. A gunshot behind Githinji ended the man’s screams. He had to trust that Zoya needed to shoot him rather than save her only shot for one of the remaining five.
The second death was the catalyst to get three of the remaining Vikisotes to turn around. They drew their swords and charged. Githinji relished the challenge. He pressed his horse to run its fastest. He nearly lost hold of his sword when it was parried by the Vikisote opposite him. The other two Vikisotes appeared to target Zoya. Githinji turned his horse. As the Vikisote charged again, he watched Zoya fight the other two.
The first woman was skewered by Zoya’s sword as she raced past. Zoya lost her primary weapon, but Githinji knew that was hardly a concern. Githinji parried his opponent, but his curiosity got the better of him. He watched Zoya again.
She had her feet atop the saddle and squatted above her horse as she galloped for the Vikisote man she fought. He swung at her, but she dove from her mount. She collided with the man and yanked him from his horse. Githinji barely registered killing the man he fought with a blade to the chest. Zoya hit the ground atop the man and immediately stood up. She didn’t look fazed, much less injured from the insane attack. She ran behind the dazed man and wrapped her arms around his neck. The man barely resisted. It didn’t matter. Zoya violently jerked his head, then allowed his body to slump to the ground.
Githinji turned his attention back to where the final two Vikisotes had been. As expected, both had vanished. It was doubtful they’d find them again. That was acceptable. There always needed to be the lucky few. Legends grew from these tales. Githinji enjoyed being a legend.
Zoya, back on her horse, rode over to Githinji.
“Are you okay, sir?”
“Of course. Well done.”
“Thank you, sir. We should get back inside.”
“Agreed.”
The screams of the dead and musket fire filled the air on the other side of the stone wall surrounding the ring fortress. Githinji and Zoya trotted their horses to the nearest opening in the perimeter. Githinji noticed yellow vapor rising from around the wall.
“Namerian magic, sir.”
Githinji didn’t answer. Instead, he kicked his heels into his horse and pushed the poor animal into another full gallop.
chapter 16
Murid knew she should have forced the evacuation sooner. The reports had indicated that the Black Cloud was still days away, but her pride and faith had told her otherwise. As the walls crumbled around her, her heart broke when she stared into the eyes of the people who called her queen.
Thankfully Mother Turklyo’s children were here. Murid glanced at Two Dogs. Sweat poured from his body. He hadn’t spoken in minutes. His eyes barely opened. All his efforts went into keeping a magical barrier between them and the Corlains. It wasn’t a large enough shield. Only a hundred people stood under its protection. Among them were Egill, Ancestors’ Hand, and Swift Shot. Other Vikisotes hid among the debris that used to be her home. Faida was with many children, but where they ended up, who knew?
Thankfully Swift Shot had killed the pachymules. She was lying on her back as she gasped for breath. Her magical reserves weren’t nearly as limitless as Two Dogs’ appeared to be. Egill had told her the story Swift Shot had shared about Two Dogs as a child. Seeing him struggle as he held the barrier up despite musket fire, she fully believed it.
The warriors still able to fight paced inside their confines. Many added more doses of crick oil than was wise. There were at least sixty who knew how to handle a blade. Soon they would have to for the last time. The only reason they had any respite from the Corlains was due to Ancestors’ Hand.
The Intakee woman had summoned the spirits of the Vikisotes already slain. These men, women, and even children swarmed the Corlains. It would have been humorous to watch the Corlains fighting yellow ghost-like children with spiritual rocks, but the fact meant those same children could no longer play in the real world. Ancestors’ Hand looked just as haggard as the two Lacreechee warriors. She looked weaker every time she re-populated the battlefield with the spirits that were killed a second or even a third time.
“Ancestors’ Hand, how many times can you revive them?” Murid asked.
Ancestors’ Hand only grunted. It was all the answer Murid needed.
“They can’t keep this up much longer,” Egill said. “We must fight our way out of here.”
“What about the children?” a desperate mother asked.
Her question reminded Murid of Faida. She wished her friend help.
“They aren’t focusing on us,” Murid said.
It was true. Something about unrelenting spirit warriors focused an enemy’s attention. Rubble filled the streets. Barely a longhouse stood, but Murid could still make out the sound of musket fire and the occasion clash of metal. There were other pockets of Vikisote resistance.
“My queen—” Egill started.
Murid clamped her fingers to silence him. She gave herself a panoramic view of the battlefield. She stood in the rubble that used to be the celebration longhouse. It no longer had a ceiling or three of its walls. The wall standing blocked her view to the east. To the north, west, and south, Murid saw a giant shifting mirror. The early morning sun reflected fiercely off the Corlain plate armor. Murid wished for clouds. That gave her an idea.
“Swift Shot, how are you feeling?” Murid asked.
Swift Shot wobbled as she stood. Murid felt immense respect for the woman as she hobbled over to her.
“I’ll
be better with a good ferm in hand,” Swift Shot answered.
Murid laughed nervously. Even as the walls literally crumbled around her, Swift Shot was still making jokes.
“I hate to ask so much from you again, but could you do something about the sun?”
Murid pointed. Swift Shot looked confused, then understanding led to her opening her eyes wider.
“I can but not for long.”
“How long can you give us?” Egill asked.
“Two minutes, three at most. In this state, I won’t be good for much more,” Swift Shot answered.
“It might be a better use of her magic to keep her on the offensive,” Egill suggested.
Murid considered it. Two minutes wouldn’t do much beyond giving her people a chance to identify the least deadly avenue to run toward.
“What about fog?” Murid asked.
“I can do fog,” Swift Shot answered with a smile. “I can get it thick too.”
A plan began to form. Murid studied each cardinal direction. The south had the most Corlains fighting with the spirits of the dead. Running toward them would be suicide. The west also had thick fighting. In fact, those Corlains seemed closer to the center of the fortress where she stood. Her view of the east was blocked. Fewer buildings fell in that direction. Was that a good sign? Did it mean she could lead her people that way? Or was it a trap? The uncertainty made her hesitant to commit to that direction.
Remaining was heading north. That meant running straight into the side of a mountain. Mountains surrounded her kingdom, but the ring fortress literally used part of the mountain to make their northern wall. This meant the Corlains there could channelize her people into kill zones. It also meant they couldn’t maneuver. If she had all four thousand of her warriors left, it would be the worst direction. Unfortunately, fate had stripped her of this constraint. The few people she had left could slip past Corlain lines. They could meet up at one of the villages on the other side of the pass.
Augury Answered Page 19
