21
A dull sky complemented the grayness of the city. Even though the battle lines were set outside of the fully urban area, there would be plenty of street fighting and maneuvering around scattered buildings. If the king’s forces got pushed back a fifteen-minute march, it would be city warfare unlike anything ever seen in the world. The peasant armies, not schooled in structured combat, would have the advantage there.
The evacuation was proceeding too slowly to be complete by the start of the battle. The wealthy were reluctant to abandon their costly belongings, and some had the arrogance to remain in the endangered areas, as if money gave protection equal to that of the gods. Every noble in the city sought shelter in the palace, unless they were on the battlefield. Tayron wondered if his parents were affected, or if they even knew what was happening. A long time had passed since he had sent a letter home.
There would be nothing elegant in this battle, and none of the trickery Tayron had affirmed in the strategy last time. Feradac came to Terilon with only one piece of advice – attack quickly and often. The knights would be in play early, and could not afford heavy casualties, so it was hit and fly all the way. Those who were forced off of their brekas would be on their own.
Terilon displayed all the classic signs of nervousness. He was not a fighter, much to the relief of his guards. While eagerness to face death at every instant was Yunas’ dogma, even he found it cumbersome to protect a lord who thought the same way. Tayron, knowing that the commander had to be patient, aware, and clear-minded, tried to ease his troubled mind.
“Don’t worry about your safety, sir. We protected your father, and he charged right into the middle of things. You’ll be safe with us.”
“I’m not really worried, just nervous. As far as firsts go, I think a first battle is the most nerve-wracking, especially when thousands of men are counting on you to make the right choices. If I tried to draw my blade now, my trembling hands would probably snap it in its sheath.”
The councilor’s hands were actually not shaking much at all. Tayron said, “they used to tell us at the academy that exaggerating things only makes them seem worse.”
Terilon nodded. “But there’s also the fact that I’ve studied court life and politics, but only historical battles, not this. I think my father had that in mind when he gave up command of the knights without consulting me first – he knew I wouldn’t be suited to it anyway. I’ve been wondering why I took this post. Wanting to be part of any battle that comes my way might be in the blood.”
“Well, you have three people here who have studied modern tactics. And it’s rare for a commander to make many maneuvers in a single battle. The unit commanders will handle the specifics, you just have to manage the timing, making sure both the men and the breka get enough rest between strikes. And you decide where it’s best to attack, to coordinate with the rest of the army. Communications are handled by relay. I’ll pass on your orders by hand signal – all knights know them. That makes this easier than commanding the infantry.”
Tayron kept talking to him, giving him as much information as possible to keep him thinking instead of worrying. Bathis listened on with interest and concluded, “relax. It’s battle, not politics. Unless you’re fighting a knight just make sure you stick the pointy end of your sword in the enemy. Since these peasants shouldn’t have knights among them, that’s no problem.”
“The way you make it sound, historians shouldn’t give generals so much credit. I think you’re making it easy for me.”
“Call it delegation of responsibility.”
Yunas cleared his throat. “Just for you to know, I won’t be pulling back after the first charge.”
“What?” Terilon said, only mildly distressed. As with everyone else who knew the youthful knight, the councilor was ambivalent about him. “Why?”
“Want to create havoc. I need some sort of a challenge, and just doing hit and runs against peasants is too shameful.”
The focused mindset, always dominant in Yunas’ mind, defeated Terilon, who said “all right. Just make sure I see you again afterward. Deal?”
“Deal,” Yunas agreed readily.
Tayron looked at him suspiciously. “You aren’t planning to switch sides again, are you?”
“No way. I’d miss how the whole king thing’d turn out.”
Satisfied with the explanation since it fit Yunas perfectly, Tayron looked out at the array of breka behind them, and wondered how the buildings of the capital could be so close. He wondered how the border war with Rath’rainol was proceeding with this chaos threatening the very center of what the border army had protected for so long. If Rath’rainol developed a focused strategy to take advantage of the turmoil, Fenix’s ascension to the throne would mark the beginning of an age of warfare.
And still that nagging voice reminded him that he could be king. If the king’s ploy to remove the threat of Jaksen inadvertently resulted in the king’s own removal from the throne, by the ancient Tayron’s last trick, then Tayron was now king. He had the ability, and the court knew him well enough. Support would come if he made the right moves, especially since approval for Fenix was at an all-time low. Not that kings had ever been removed by the court because they were disliked, but many things that had not been done before were now considered feasible. Jaksen could confirm that Tayron had the right, and Tayron could restore Jaksen’s nobility, if it had been lost in the first place.
If it hadn’t been lost, then Tayron’s move would be a coup. He shook the idea out of his mind. It was nonsense. He didn’t feel like a king, and whatever his ambitions, he had never considered climbing to the heights he had already reached. Still, the trickster god filled his mind with images of his potential kingship, and how he would change everything for the better. With Anni at his side, the peasants and others outside the nobility would have a voice in court. His family would no longer be a disgrace to the idea of nobility, and instead regain their rightful position, as the statue of their ancestor in front of the palace symbolized.
But Tayron regained mastery over his thoughts as he spotted the peasant army in the distance, like the earth rising up against the gray of the world. No flags, standards, or plate armor could be seen. This depressed all three knights, who had a queasy feeling about using long swords against pitchforks.
The peasants were not armed with pitchforks, though – at least not in the front rank. Rifles were the weapons of choice, and they were heard before seen as the motley army fired into the air and shouted madly to intimidate the king’s force. The cracks echoing through the air were disconcerting for the regular army, even those who had been in the battles against Damial. The knights had training to keep them from being affected, but they alone could not win this battle. And the rifles were troublesome to them for practical reasons, since the weapons were the most dangerous to their breka. Arrows might pierce breka hide, but had nowhere near the effectiveness of rifle shot at close range. Fear might not have plagued the knights, but concern did.
“That’s enough of that,” Terilon said, “shouldn’t we move now? No good letting them scare the infantry, is it?”
“We need the enemy to prepare to engage the infantry before we sweep in on the flank. General Feradac has to start the battle by ordering the infantry to move. He might order the mages out first. I’m sure he’s thinking about the morale of his troops, so we don’t have to worry about it. Normally, the battle order would be worked out in a full strategy session beforehand, but in an emergency like this there’re some rules that schooled commanders are supposed to know.”
“You’ll tell me when these come up?”
“Of course.”
“Why didn’t you tell me before?”
Tayron shrugged. “There isn’t a list or anything. Some of it is instinct, but instincts are so important in war that generals are expected to have the right ones.”
“Sorry, you’re . . .”
“Umm . . . that’s as good a signal as any.” Tayron pointed to their far left, where the infantry was charging at a run. “Feradac is going to lure the enemy to the left while we sweep down on the right. Then the center will charge to breakthrough and divide the enemy. It’s more or less the plan you suggested to the king.”
Terilon mumbled, “battle looks a lot different on paper. Shall I give the order, then?”
“Only when you’re convinced the enemy had been fooled to head left. The exact timing’s up to you.”
The left flank infantry charge continued, but instead of directing its own forces to that side, the enemy army closed ranks and made tight formations. Once the king’s infantry reached rifle range, a thunderous volley issued, mowing down the front rank. Trying to estimate how many guns were firing, the mind automatically leaped to a thousand. And those were only on the extreme left of the peasant army.
“Wait a minute,” Yunas said, straining his eyes, “the bodies that fell just now . . . they’re no longer on the ground.”
“Are you sure?” Terilon said. He had just been preparing himself to give the order to move.
“I kept my eye on a close one, and it definitely vanished. I think General Feradac’s playing your kind of trick, Tayron, using the mages again. Best thing to do with them, I suppose.”
“Still,” Terilon noticed, “the enemy hasn’t moved an inch. We’ve underestimated their battlefield resolve. I don’t think we’re going to get a definitive victory out of this, if we can manage a victory at all.”
Tayron nodded. “Well, Feradac hasn’t underestimated them. He wants them to waste their ammunition on a fake army. He must have guessed that we wouldn’t be able to plow into them. I’m sure that, right now, he’s spouting to everybody within earshot how arrogant the court is, how stupid it would be to run the troops right into gunfire, and how he’d be damned if he used the mages for anything more than this.”
The peasant army quickly stopped firing as they realized what was happening, and let the illusionary army wash over them. But, lest the illusion was followed by real troops, they fired test shots at regular intervals. The illusion was so convincing, though, that it would have been difficult for the riflemen to determine whether the bodies on the ground were real or illusions until they disappeared. Feradac made use of this by suddenly introducing a rank of real troops right after the last illusionary ones. The peasants realized it just before the real rank was a single round away, and got that volley off before the engagement began.
Still the rest of the peasant army remained in formation. The gunmen were bad at melee combat, but the peasants had great advantage in numbers, and so could afford the heavy toll.
“Do you suppose they’ve put gunmen on our flank as well?” Terilon asked.
“Yes,” answered Tayron, “I’ve seen quite a few mixed in with the rest. They’ll probably come out front once we attack.”
The councilor thought over this for a moment, eyes on the enemy. “Well, there’s no helping it. Shall we get going then?”
Tayron drew his sword and signaled. The sword relay spread the message so that in seconds the cavalry was ready for flight. He gave the final flourish, and they were in the air. The bodyguards tried their best to prepare for the carnage. Tayron had packed a spear collection, and he planned to take out as many riflemen as possible before swooping in low with lance and his breka’s talons. Bathis had a rifle loaded, but Yunas stuck to spear and sword.
Bathis was the first to strike, firing at extreme range and taking down his target. In the time he took to reload, Tayron and Yunas hurtled two spears each, and the enemy started to fire back. However well the peasants were armed, they lacked training and had trouble aiming at flying objects. They also had minimal armor, allowing the spears to take them down without resistance. But there were thousands of them, and Tayron had only packed a dozen spears. He reminded himself that he was only one knight in a cavalry, but it was difficult to ignore the isolation of the battlefield – making every soldier feel alone against the world.
Tayron brought his breka to the forefront and switched to lance, knowing that those behind him were following in suit. It was all standard breka-back fighting from here on. The cavalry swooped up, and then dove down at their targets at a speed that allowed no rifle to aim.
The peasants had planned for this, though. With an efficiency that could not have been beaten by any regular army, a dense collection of tall spears amassed right under the diving breka riders, each spear four times the height of the men carrying them. To support the deathtrap, riflemen pointed their guns straight upward from its edge, firing indiscriminately as fast as they could reload.
It was the ideal breka killing zone, and only a few knights recognized too late to avoid it. The rest pulled up in time, repositioned, and dove again. Terilon, surrounded by his cautious bodyguards, did not have to maneuver desperately, but gritted his teeth after seeing many of his men in front of him fail to save themselves. The patch under them now was solely of the pitchfork variety they had expected in the first place, and the knights attacked in full force, crushing dozens under their beasts and lancing more. Swords at the ready and mounts screeching their fury, each rider created a vacuum around them. Once the enemy swarmed into the vacuum, the knights returned to the air and fell back to their launching point. All except for Yunas, who kept to his word and continued to battle the swarm, still from the back of his mount when Tayron lost sight of him.
“Dammit!” Terilon shouted as soon as they landed, “they knew what we were going to do, didn’t they? I might not know as much as you do, Tayron, but I know a prepared and disciplined army when I see one.”
Tayron, not as surprised as the councilor since he was well aware they were underestimating the rebels, only hoped that General Feradac had not made too many miscalculations. “We lost about two dozen by my estimate, which isn’t bad at all since we’ll know what to expect from here on.”
“Don’t sugar-coat it, Tayron. The bitter fact is that we were supposed to throw them into disarray, or at least draw them towards us to thin the center. And on our next pass, they’ll know what to expect, too, and won’t be as intimidated by us. Am I right?”
Tayron nodded.
Terilon remained silent for a moment, and then said, “I don’t know if I have the energy for another run, and I’m totally useless out there anyway. How long will the rest of the men take to restore their strength for another charge?”
“They’re ready now, but the breka are still breathing hard. So are you, sir.”
Too occupied with the pain in his muscles, the lord hadn’t even thought about his breath. “It’ll be easier on the two of you if you didn’t have to keep an eye on me. You take command, Tayron. Assign at least two to guard me while I’m here, maybe some with wounded breka.”
“I understand, sir,” Tayron said, wondering how this first taste of command would affect him. Confirming his command with the leaders of the units of the cavalry, he had the force up and flying before Terilon caught his breath. He set the force in a loose formation to minimize the usefulness of the killing zones, even though the enemy must have readjusted their strategy as well. He wondered what they would try this time, but had no doubt that putting the cavalry in a tight formation would invite death.
He searched for and soon found Yunas in the array of pitchforks, spears, and guns. The youthful knight remained seated on his breka, which looked incapable of taking flight again. Tayron dove to join him. It was as good a point to bring the force down on the enemy as any.
Yunas swung his sword, still sharp enough to pass easily through skin and bone, across the entire arc of his left side. He varied the tilt of the weapon through its course to pass through the necks of everyone within reach. As he managed this feat, he also noted Tayron’s entrance into the fight and, hollering over the yells and groans of the men on the ground, he said, “good of you to come back. I think I’m going to be sick, but I was handling it just fine.”
Tayron had a bit more difficulty keeping up the conversation while making battle. “So I see.”
“I guess it isn’t going well?”
“No.”
“This isn’t what I call battle, Tayron. I’ll stay here till the next time you pounce. Before you fly off again, though, . . . wanted to tell you,” he kicked a man trying to climb up to him, “I recognized some of the men while fighting.”
“Recognized?”
“’Specially the riflemen. Some of them were part of Quenari’s army. Thought you should know.”
“Thanks.” Tayron flew up again, reaching enough height to fly the retreat pattern. The rest of the cavalry followed him up and he noticed that many were in pain. In the loose formation, he was unable to figure out how many were lost, but the grim faces close to him were not eager to reenter the fray without a good rest. As he thought about it, he remembered an unusually tense look on the youthful knight’s face as well.
When the force landed, Terilon immediately prodded him for a word. “Was there another trap?”
Tayron was about to say no, but a knight nearby shouted “we faced one, sir. I didn’t get hit by it, but the enemy splashed oil on our men and their breka after lassoing the beast down, then lit the fire. Whatever oil they used, it spread the flames in an instant and consumed our men. At least four died this way.” He addressed Tayron. “I’m sorry to intrude, but I don’t think you saw.”
Tayron nodded solemnly. “You’re right.” Then to Terilon he said, “there’s something else you should know, sir. Yunas said that some of the men fighting us he recognized as once part of Lord Damial’s forces. That might mean that, as you suspected, Quenari’s behind the peasant rebellion. Or, it might just be that the men from Damial’s army looked for an opportunity to fight the king again and found it with the False Adenor.”
“Quenari’s behind it, all right,” Bathis confirmed, keeping uncharacteristically stern face, “I saw my brother for a moment.”
Stunned, Tayron asked, “are you sure?”
“Yes. And he wouldn’t fight for peasants if there wasn’t a lord behind them.” Through clenched teeth, he added, “this is the same war as the last one, just below the surface.”
That left the other two wordless. The enemy line on their side was now inching forward to match the gains at the center, where the fighting was so fierce it clouded the view of anything beyond it, on the left flank. There was plenty of time for one more charge before they had to find a new hill close to the city, but not two charges.
“Shouldn’t Feradac be sending us some word?” Terilon wondered.
“I think that’s it,” Tayron replied, pointing to a diminutive figure approaching their rise, running through the fog of war.
“Lord Jaksen!” the messenger shouted. “General Feradac needs you to hold back your charge. The mages are going to be set loose on the enemy. They need some space to work in, and we can’t make much of a gap where the infantry is fighting, so the magic’ll have to be used here.”
“Is the situation that bad?” asked Terilon. “I expect Feradac would only use mages in this way if there was no other choice.”
“As you say, sir. The ruse on the left flank and your efforts here started the battle with a ten to one kill rate. Since the main infantry started fighting, the General’s said that it’s dropped to three enemies for every one of ours – which would normally be fine, but we’re outnumbered at least six to one, if not more. I’ve gotten to you just in time. Look.”
Mage cloaks swept the ground between their position and the advancing army. They numbered almost a hundred, and moved in a single menacing line spread wide. When they reached a few paces from rifle range, Terilon asked, “are they going to use this biomagery?”
The messenger replied, “the General told them to do everything they can.”
Like a flash, Tayron thought and shouted “Yunas!” and dashed to mount his breka without speaking another word. He forced it to full speed, casting a shadow on the mages before they prepared their shield spells for entrance into rifle range. Just as he passed over them, he felt an illumination behind him as if a ray of sunlight had pierced the gray cloud cover. The magic was starting, so he spurred the breka faster though it was tiring quickly.
Yunas was on foot now, breka left far behind, ultimately unable to stay on its feet. The knight was now madly drawing blood from those around him to prevent them from taking his. He stood bleeding from a number of wounds and was fatigued beyond Tayron’s comprehension, but still stood. Judging that even Yunas would be looking to leave the fray after all of that, Tayron brought his beast low enough to let Yunas to grab on and shouted, “Yunas!”
The knight needed no further urging. He took hold of the breka’s talons and scrambled on, taking a seat behind Tayron. A few other hands tried to grab hold as well, but Tayron chopped at them and had no more trouble gaining height. The breka needed no prodding to use every ounce of energy to get them back, and on the way they saw that the mages were halted. A single figure was shouting at them with a magically amplified voice. The two knights could not hear him at their height, but could tell he was trying to convince the mages not to proceed. It was Havelin.
Tayron shook his head. “Gods bless him.”
“Why did you come after me?” Yunas asked after taking some time to seize his mind from instinct and reflex.
“Those mages were about to use that new biomagery.”
Yunas had guessed as much. “It’d be nice to go against a mage sometime.” He encircled a large gash in his left arm with his right index finger. “But you’re right, not this time. I need some rest.”
“Had your fill of fighting?”
“Had my fill of butchering,” Yunas spat bitterly. If Tayron could have seen the face behind him, he would have noted a haunted stare that put into Yunas’ eyes five times the years that had been kept from his body. But Tayron would have understood it, had he seen it. “Owe you my life, Tayron. Wouldn’t have lasted much longer there, even if the mages weren’t about to do their thing.”
“But I had owed you mine, I think, so we’re just even.”
“I don’t think so. I don’t think so.”
Tayron landed the breka right in front of Terilon, who didn’t flinch and wore a relieved smile on his face. “Looks like your rescue plan worked,” he shouted up to them.
They set feet to ground without speaking, and Tayron saw the solemnity on Yunas’ face he had expected after hearing the youthful knight’s voice.
Bathis bounced up to them and said, “did you see what Havelin did?”
“Yeah,” Tayron exhaled, “did it work?”
Disgusted and losing all enthusiasm, Bathis answered, “no. Take a look for yourself, I can’t describe it.”
The knight turned to look out over the field. The mages were melting away the enemy force. Half of them kept force shields up to create a wall stopping arrows and rifle shot in mid-air. The other half . . . well, Tayron couldn’t tell what exactly they were doing. All he knew was that the enemy troops fell before them, often with contorted faces, portraits of excruciating pain. Tayron only got a look at one face at his distance, but it was enough.
“What are they doing?” Tayron asked. “Some of those . . . some of the enemy look like they’re melting really slowly, and the rest look even worse.”
“Don’t know,” Bathis replied, “don’t really want to know. It’s not the plague, since it kills too fast for that, but the mages aren’t killing one peasant at a time. Whatever this is, we haven’t seen it before and it isn’t natural.”
Yunas had something to say, but was having trouble finding a way to say it. “Tayron, I told you that I saw some people I recognized from Damial’s army. Well . . . some of them were pretty good fighters and I wanted to challenge them . . . but everytime I tried the peasants blocked me. They were protecting the better fighters. Tayron . . . I think they planned ahead to tie this battle. The pitchfork carriers are being used to protect the sword carriers so that those swords can be used in the next battle. I can’t get why, though. They . . . they also wanted us to use this biomagery, I think. I think in the next battle they’ll have rogue mages that can counter it, maybe even use it against us. We . . . we used it first, after all.”
Terilon ordered a nearby knight who had been listening “tell Feradac what Yunas just said. Did you get all of it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then fly now. Go!”
The knight left just as the enemy began retreating, their flank pulling back for the first time during the battle. But they were doing so faster than necessary – they were quitting the field. In the center, where the infantries were too concentrated for the mages to make a difference, the king’s army was slowly pulling back. The rebel army’s center would also start to pull back, to avoid being outflanked and surrounded, leaving the battle a tie. It would come as some consolation at court, but Yunas was right.