by Alex Janaway
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The 3rd Company of the 7th Mounted Infantry took the Harradan encampment by surprise. The few who had not joined in the final assault, mostly the sick and the lame, barely had time to register the shock of a hundred horsemen emerging from the trees coming at them full tilt. Those that couldn’t get out of the way were cut down as the 3rd Company thundered through the position and headed towards the fort. Whilst not a cavalry unit, the Ashkent force had decided that the sound of their mounts and the shock of their appearance would easily make up for their restricted skill at arms whilst riding at speed. It did the trick. Faced with this new threat from the rear, Harradan warriors quickly formed a new battle line along the edge of the fire trench. Half their numbers were inside the fort perimeter and had yet to realise the threat. Even though they still outnumbered the relief force by at least five to one, they were tired, dispirited and, like their leaders, had rapidly come to the conclusion that the whole venture had been a pointless waste of time. They had little experience facing a large and disciplined, cavalry force and did not possess sufficient numbers of spears or pole arms to defend with. As the screaming cavalry galloped towards them, many broke and ran for the river. But of course there was no longer a means to cross. Many panicked and threw themselves in. A number of warriors drowned in the crush or were swept away by the current. Others made a break for the fort or the woods. Most didn’t get very far as the Ashkent charge swept through them, cutting them down as their backs were turned.
There were still a large number of Harradan troops in the fort and their leaders gathered them together to make a defence at the shattered gates. Whilst part of the cavalry force continued the pursuit of the fleeing northmen, the majority swiftly dismounted, formed their battle line and closed with the Harradan. To their rear, the attack on the tower had stalled. Bursting from the rampart doorways the surviving defenders closed with the Harradan so that the attackers now found themselves assaulted from two fronts. A short and bloody fight ensued as the Ashkent relief troops maintained a tight formation that steadily carved its way through the press of warriors. Once the 3rd Company had pushed to just within the gateway, the Harradan defence finally broke and realising the killing ground they now found themselves in, those that remained scrambled up onto the ramparts and launched themselves over the walls. Within the courtyard not one northman was left standing. A few reached the safety of the northern woods but they had a long and hard road to get home. The only other survivors where a half dozen soldiers from Shifter. Once it was clear the battle was lost, Lordswood bid his men lower their weapons. Then they waited on the parapet to be captured.
Major Dav Jenkins found his friend sitting on the steps leading out from the tower. He sheathed his sword, dismounted and removed his helmet. His face was streaked with sweat and grime and he felt knackered. He had forgotten what it was like to be in battle, which surprised him as he had spent a large part of his adult life doing it. Funny how a staff job had become so comfortable. He’d also forgotten how many bloody aches and strains came from riding a horse at full pelt over dozens of miles. On their ride up, they had encountered a fleeing force of Harradan that had obviously cut and run from the fighting earlier. They were busily trying to organise a river crossing. Now that the battle had been won here, he had sent half his troops to help them on their way. He eased himself next to Forge and promptly poured half his water bottle over his head with a contented sigh. Forge watched him perform all of these actions and smiled.
“How you doing old timer?” he asked.
Dav Jenkins looked him up and down. “Feel like shit but I still look a damned sight better than you.”
Forge laughed. “Didn’t think you were coming.”
“Honestly. No faith in your old pal.”
The day after Forge had met with him at headquarters Dav had recalled the 3rd Company back to the regiment. They had been on border duty further south and had seen little action for some time. He deemed that things were pretty quiet and their loss could be spared from that sector by speeding the arrival of a newly created Graves Defence Force unit. He knew that Forge would never have come to him if things had not been desperate. In itself this was unusual for Forge. Perhaps if he hadn’t come in person Dav might not have done anything about it. But a personal plea from his old friend was something he just could not ignore. He had also decided that he would travel with the replacement troops himself, thinking how it would be good to get away from the admin bullshit that came with his job. Some nice little excursion it turned out to be!
“To be honest, I didn’t think you’d make it. Hells, I only sent Corporal Kyle a few days ago,” said Forge.
“No way we would have done.”
He smiled at Forge’s questioning look and told him of the events concerning their arrival.
“It seems that Duke Burns wasn’t expecting our paying a visit to him. When he heard we were coming he jumped ship. He and his personal guard buggered off east towards Shifter. When we rode into his camp we found it virtually empty. Just a few of the local soldiers left sitting around with their thumbs up their arses.”
“No change there, then,” remarked Forge.
“Apparently not. What we got from them wasn’t too pleasing either. Seems that the Duke had sent a lot of his men back to their homes. It looked to me that he had been planning something and a bunch of Ashkent infantry riding into view didn’t seem to fit into it. Found out from the local lads about where you had gone off to. I put a few things together and that got me even more worried. So instead of heading after Burns I decided to head north.”
“Good decision.”
“Especially when who comes riding along on a half dead horse but Corporal Kyle. So now that I had the full picture I sent word back to the Regiment and we high-tailed it up here as fast as we could. We met a woman not so far from here, seems she was a Harridan who decided to switch sides. Told us what the state of things was, said that their rear was wide open. So a nice flanking manoeuvre presented itself. Looks like you and your boys just messed up something that could have really caused the shit to stink.”
“Yeah,” said Forge. Dav could hear the weariness behind that simple word. The slump in Forge’s shoulders said it all.
“I’m sorry about Sergeant Mac, Jon. He was a good man.”
“Yeah. They all were.”
Forge pushed himself to his feet. The anger had worn off and now his body just ached terribly. Especially his damn knee. He felt old.
“Lost our horses.”
“Yes, we know. Found some of them back on the trial. We are bringing them back. Got yours.”
“Good. Don’t fancy walking home.”
The major nodded behind him. “Spoke to a Shifter captain who was attached to the Harradan. Says the big warchief was fixing to cut you up personally. Charged into the tower just before we had them under control. We found him with his own sword embedded in his skull. Nice touch.”
At that Forge turned and looked up at the tower.
“Can’t remember that…..burial detail?”
“Already at it. Thought we’d use that fire trench of yours.”
“Right.”
With that he turned his back on the tower and in pain walked across the courtyard and out into the open to help bury his dead.
By midday the troops rode out on the trail at the southern edge of the clearing. The enemy Harradan had been left were they lay. Even now a flock of scavenger birds were making a very decent meal out of the pickings. A line of swords were thrust into the ground along the line of the refilled fire trench. Each sword represented a fallen Ashkent soldier. There was no other way of distinguishing each grave. Every fallen man was as precious as the next. It was a tradition of the mounted infantry. Private Smitty was at the back of the line. He turned his horse and tipped a salute to the dead. “See you later, brother,” he said softly. He lent down and gently slapped the side of his mare’s n
eck. The fort, looking almost like it had when Forge had first gazed upon it, stood silent and empty. The bridge site would soon get overgrown and worn down by the river. The remains of the battle would mix and become part of that older, long gone settlement that once existed here. Forge doubted that anyone else would come here. When they did all they would find was a place of death. A place where long ago a battle had been fought. And they probably wouldn’t even know why.
On the side of the trail stood Lode, Old Hoarty, Juggs and beside Lode, the woman Lissa. Each had been given two horses.
“Sorry you didn’t get a reward or nothing,” said Forge.
“That’s all right. We got what we came here for,” replied Lode.
“Vengeance?”
“Yeah, something like that. But somehow it doesn’t make me feel any better.”
“Killing never does.”
“You know, up until a week ago I had never raised my hand to another man in my life.”
“Really?” Forge was surprised at that.
“Only ever hunted animals. Guess I started thinking of the Harradan as animals, they weren’t my people anymore. Made it easier every time I shot one. Just as if I was shooting a buck or some such,” shrugged Lode.
“What they did to our town, they deserved no better,” said Juggs.
“That’s right lad,” said Old Hoarty softly and not unkindly. “We never asked for trouble. They brought it.”
Lode shrugged. “We killed a lot didn’t we?”
Forge nodded.
“We got all of them.”
“Doesn’t seem real now. Except of course whenever I think of my friends back there.” He nodded at the line of graves. Sleeps and Fuzz, who had died with an arrow in his throat, were buried there. Arald was somewhere back on the eastern side of the Rooke. “Good of you to bury them with your guys.”
Forge said nothing. The Bantusai had also been buried with the Ashkent troops. Each with a spear planted in the soil where he lay. The four surviving men would go with the Ashkent forces and be given safe passage home aboard the troop ships. Portal had also been given a place, it felt only right. The man had given his life for him and the company. If nothing else in his life, the almost-wizard had earned a decent burial for that.
“Well, take care,” he said to them and clasped Lode’s hand. The younger man seemed to have aged. He’d always had a fire in his eyes but now he’s got ice too the captain thought to himself. No one kills without it leaving a mark. Not if they had any humanity in them at any rate. He nodded to the others and tipped a half salute to Lissa. “Always nice to see something good come out of this,” he said and then mounted his horse.
“Hey, Hoarty. Send us a new pelt when you bag a good one,” he called as he rode down the trail.
“All wrapped up in a nice bow for yer!” laughed Old Hoarty
Forge raised his hand in goodbye and then trotted down the path after the rest of the troops.
Lode turned and looked at his companions.
“Well, Holis. Ain’t much of the season left is there?” said Juggs.
“What we doing youngster? Got a plan?” said Old Hoarty.
Funny how even now, after it was over, Lode still found himself being treated like the leader. What did they do now? He couldn’t help but feel that it still wasn’t over. It didn’t seem like it was. He shrugged and looked at Lissa. She reached over and grasped his hand.
“Don’t know,” he said.
It took the Ashkent riders five days to get back to Regimental Headquarters. On the way they passed through the old camp near Duke Burns’ lands. It was empty now. Anything that had been worth stealing had already been taken. Only bare patches of earth, trampled grass and fire burnt cooking pits showed where the troops had stayed. There was still the circular ditch and bund of the original Ashkent encampment. They did find two Ashkent riders who had come up from the south. They brought word that McKracken had alerted all the allied troops on the front and had mobilised a strike force to counter the Harradan if it was required. However, further news suggested that this was no longer necessary. It seemed that with the flight of Burns, Shifter had finally sued for peace. It had stood down all of its border forces and returned them to their barracks. Having seen the Ashkent troops preparing to receive their assault, the Shifter generals had figured their final throw of the dice had probably failed. Good news for the Shifter prisoners, who would now be sent home on arrival at the camp. Effectively the war was over. As long as Shifter behaved, the Ashkent Expeditionary Force could look to be going home. It was cold comfort to Forge. Thinking over the turn of events he could see that the trigger for the end had been the simple arrival of Jenkins and his troops at Burn’s camp. The Duke had cut and run and in so doing had caused a chain reaction. In fact, working it through, Forge and his men need never have held that damned fucking bridge and fort. They could have pulled back, joined up with the rest of the regiment and then kicked the Harradan’s arses in one fell swoop. He would have laughed at the stupid pointlessness of the whole thing. If he hadn’t been so damned tired.
His first night back at the regiment Forge couldn’t sleep. Earlier he had gone to the HQ and reported to the boss. He found General McKracken himself waiting for him. There were congratulations and sympathetic noises. Everyone knew the score and most knew Forge well enough to know that he really didn’t care. He had left and gone to look after his men. He had started the war with over a hundred men and had received a number more in replacements. He now had ten. He had his two scouts, Jonas and Kyle (who had led the Third Company to them), and eight other private soldiers. Five of them were wounded and of those, three would not be seeing active service any time soon. The company would survive. But it had taken a grievous wound. In losing so many of its old hands, such as Sergeants Pike, Grippa and of course Mac, it had lost its soul. And for each one of them he would bare the mental scars for the rest of his life.
As he walked back through the regimental camp to where his men were bivouacked he stopped off at the storehouse and livery stables and made a few arrangements. He then continued on. He found the four surviving Bantusai clustered round a fire. Sat with them were Private Smitty and some of the other soldiers. He stopped and stood by the fire. Kely stood up to join him.
“I’ve made some arrangements for you lot. The Commanding Officer is feeling pretty well disposed to me at the moment and has granted you a wagon, supplies and an escort to the port. From there you can catch one of our supply ships back across the Gulf. Here is a letter written by McKracken.” He handed Kely a rolled parchment that had a wax seal bearing the symbol of a bird of prey. “Give this to the Warden of the Port. This letter grants you privileges, safe passage and the financial means to get you home. With the warm thanks of the Expeditionary Army of Ashkent.”
Kely gave Forge one of his big bright smiles.
“Thank you, Captain. You are a good man.”
“I am sorry I couldn’t get you all home.”
“So are we.” Kely’s voice became sombre and reflective. “But our Kai believed you and followed you. We follow our Kai. He would not have stayed if he did not trust you. That shows you are a man of honour.”
“A dubious one at best,” he smiled. “But I take your point. And Juma was a good man also.”
“He died a good death,” said Kely proudly
“If there is such a thing,” replied Forge.
He then shook each of the Bantusais’ hands and took his leave.
He had lain on his cot for an hour, staring into the shadows above him. He felt empty inside. But that wasn’t strictly true. What he really felt was there was unfinished business. He couldn’t leave it like this. All that death. Just because of one man. Forge had always been practical. His thinking firmly rooted in the harsh, hard realities of life. He had come to terms with losing people early in his career. But that was in war, in battles that had to be won. He guessed in this re
spect he had been lucky. It was a luxury to have led such an uncomplicated life, not having to deal with the uncomfortable concept that the deaths of his men were not worth the result. He snorted. Shit, who am I kidding he thought. We all knew what we were doing when we signed up. He had just gotten used to always being on the winning side and taking orders from halfway competent generals. What grated was that he had been tricked. Used by a man who wasn’t even from Ashkent. That bastard should never have been allowed to fuck with his boys. From the day they were sent north, the Company’s fate was sealed. However it was not McKracken’s fault, it wasn’t his fault. He would have held that fort anyway even if the Duke had not been part of the treachery. He would have held it because it was the right thing to do. It was for the soldiers of Ashkent that he did it. But not so that an overweight, slimy little shitbag could make a play for power over the bodies of his dead men. He rolled off his bed. Strapped his sword belt back on and stalked off into the night. After five days on horseback his leg felt a lot better.
Dav Jenkins looked up from his cot as Forge pushed through the tent flap and sat himself down on a chest near the entrance. A single candle burned by a bedside table next him. He hadn’t been sleeping much either. He could only vaguely make out Forge sitting in the soft light. Shadows played across the features of his friend. His face was set like stone. A grim visage. “Wonder when you would drop by Jon.”
”It isn’t over.”
“I know,” said Jenkins. “Burns.”
“Where is he?”
Dav sighed. He had been expecting this.
“I could order you not to go.”
Forge stared hard at his friend. Dav threw his hands up.
“Alright. Last reports were that he and about fifty men crossed the border into Shifter, spent a week there waiting to see what happened. He wasn’t stopped. Apparently he has some friends over there who have offered him protection. Even though he fucked things royally, seems that Shifter thinks he might still be useful. And he has some financial interests going on. I had one of our magic men do some scrying for me. He’s heading cross country. Leisurely pace. About three days east of here. Following the old trail to the City Port of Salm on the River Corn. Hang on.” He reached under his cot and pulled out a roll of parchment. He threw it over to Forge he caught it in his right hand. “Got this map. Marked his position. Thought it might come in handy.”
Forge couldn’t help but feel touched. It was nice to know he hadn’t lost all his friends.
“Thanks. I’ll see you in a week or so.”
“Whatever.”
“Don’t pull out without me.”
“Unlikely.”
Forge stood to go but Dav stopped him.
“Oh, one more thing. Shifter still have a few border patrols. Try to avoid them. A dead Burns is one thing. You leading a one man invasion of Shifter is another,” warned Jenkins
“I’ll try and remember that,” said Forge.
Dav nodded impatiently and ushered him out. He then lay back down on his cot and blew out the candle.
