CHAPTER 34
Daken slipped off the
plundered Menin half-helm and wiped the sweat from his bald head.
The morning was well advanced and they had been working hard. He
could feel his horse’s lungs beneath him, working like steady
bellows. He ran a hand down its neck and patted the beast’s scarred
shoulder. It bore a sheen of sweat, both from the exercise and the
warm summer sun. By contrast the wind felt cool on his back and
neck.
‘Your orders,
General?’ asked the young nobleman beside him. Marshal Dassai, like
his men, was filthy and tired, but they were also proud. They had
fought bravely for weeks, following General Daken into the teeth of
the enemy with a determination as savage as that of their white-eye
commander.
‘Hold here,’ Daken
said, ‘and send a company to scout each flank, watch fer surprises.
An hour’s rest for the others.’
Dassai relayed the
order with a smile on his blue-scarred face. Litania, Larat’s
Trickster Aspect, had been having her fun with Daken’s officers.
While they slept she had entered their dreams and marked each one
differently, with long, elegant sweeps of blue, like stylised
flower stems that ended in curious, drooping hooks of
flowers.
Strangely, the days
of violence had left the men inured to such trifles, and instead of
undermining Daken, Litania had succeeded in binding the men to him
with an unwavering loyalty.
Daken himself stayed
in the saddle, peering out over the moor. There was little to
interrupt the view from where they were: he could see the
disturbance of the Menin Army in the distance: three distinct
columns of marching men with supporting divisions of cavalry
interspersed between them. On the right, two or three miles away,
was the long granite tor the locals called the Moor Dragon. It was
featureless, and largely useless, as it was near-impossible to
scale.
‘They’re keeping
tight,’ he commented at last.
Marshal Dassai nodded
and passed him up a waterskin. ‘Their scryers tell the same story
as ours, no doubt: half a day’s march to Moorview, and they could
attack this evening if they wished.’ He rubbed his cropped hair,
still finding it strange.
Dassai had inherited
his title at nine winters, but he’d grown up the image of his
father, a noted soldier. It had near broken his heart that he’d
been powerless to help his people, even to flee. As they’d
retreated through his own lands, he’d had to leave his twin sister
the task of packing their valuables and escaping before the Menin
arrived to raze their home. Now, his home almost certainly
destroyed, the tenants who farmed his lands slaughtered or driven
off, his sister missing, presumed dead, he had nothing. He was only
a soldier, with no time for anything except the defeat of the Menin
bastards.
‘The scryers are the
only ones who’ll want to go now,’ Daken said darkly, watching the
nearest enemy divisions with a malevolent eye. ‘Rest of ’em will
want to rest.’
Dassai turned towards
Moorview Castle, which nestled in an indentation in the forest, too
distant for him to make out. The hill it stood on was as
unimpressive as this nameless mound, and there was almost nothing
in between except enough open flat ground that the two armies would
get a good look at each other long before they
clashed.
‘Let them come,’
Dassai replied fiercely. ‘I’ve no problem with the enemy being
tired by the time they reach our defences.’
‘Makes my skin itch,
is what it does,’ Daken muttered. ‘Don’t expect most o’ the king’s
infantry’ll be much use, but I still don’t like jus’ sittin’ here
waiting for ’em.’
‘What? We shouldn’t
allow an undefeated general a choice in how he attacks?’ Dassai
said with a wry smile. ‘You may have a point, but we don’t have
much option there.’
‘That we
don’t.’
Daken looked at the
other two legions under his command. They had taken up position on
the southwest flank of the hill, ready to continue back towards
Moorview when the command came.
‘Might manage one
last strike before we give up, though. Ain’t killed misself a Litse
yet, and I reckon they’re still with that advance
guard.’
‘How?’
‘We send the other
legions in a long line to skirt the enemy, makin’ it look like
we’re all there. They follow them ’round that damned dragon lump
there, they’ll be slow to react to us.’
‘And we keep one
legion here, concealed?’ Dassai frowned. ‘But then what? There are
more than four legions in that advance guard. They just need to
advance into us and we have to turn. If they do follow, there’s no
one to hit them as we retreat.’
‘Exactly,’ Daken said
with a sudden gleam in his eye, ‘no one in their right mind would
try it!’
Dassai laughed,
realising what Daken had in mind, and ran to give the
orders.
There was barely a
grumble from the soldiers as they changed positions, despite the
hardships Daken had already put them through. They knew the end was
in sight, and one final victory under the gaze of King Emin and his
troops, that’d be a good note to go out on.
An hour later and the
smile was gone from Dassai’s face. Even Daken looked tense as the
two men and a scout lay on their bellies on the hill’s southern
side. Each had a green scarf tied around his neck, the nearest to
uniform they possessed.
‘How close do you
want them?’ Dassai asked through the steel grille of his
visor.
‘Close,’ Daken
growled, refusing to be any more specific. Less than a mile away
three legions were heading straight for them, following the easiest
path as they led the way for the rest of the army. They hadn’t sent
scouts any further ahead — Daken had weaned them off that
particular habit several weeks back by leaving a dozen of his best
archers in his wake at every obstacle. Now the Menin only marched
en masse now, despite the slower pace.
‘That looks close to
me, General,’ the scout said cautiously. He knew Daken wasn’t a
stickler for protocol, but his bouts of good humour and informality
never fully masked the fact that he was a white-eye and dangerous
to predict.
‘Me too,’ Daken
declared, his voice husky at the prospect of the violence to come.
‘Far enough to think, close enough not to think so
hard.’
They wriggled back
until they were out of sight, then leapt to their feet and joined
the remaining legion. There were more than a thousand men, and
Daken could see they were ready: unafraid, and as keen to shed
Menin blood as he. The white-eye stood in his stirrups, raised his
axe, and gave the signal, leading them down to the lower edges of
the hill, where the slope was shallow enough to keep their
formation, but still gave them some protection.
When they caught
sight of the enemy, the troops gave an unprompted roar of defiance
— one that was repeated as Daken raised his blood-streaked axe
above his head and added his own voice.
The troops stared at
each other, no more than three hundred yards apart, and close
enough that Daken could make out the colours on their flags. One
was white, the other two black: a Litse and two Menin light cavalry
legions. The main bulk of the army was further back, almost a mile
behind the advance guard.
‘Looks like you were
right, General,’ Dassai commented, ‘the main body has slowed down:
our decoy legions have won us some space to work
with.’
‘Aye, fucking genius
I am,’ Daken muttered, watching the nearer legions
intently.
The enemy clattered
to a ragged halt while their commander decided what to do. Their
lines were tight; no doubt to keep them ordered and under control,
but it wouldn’t help them with what Daken had planned.
‘Get us close enough,
then give ’em a volley, let’s see if we can help ’em make up their
minds,’ he told the marshal, who yelled the command.
The legion advanced
slowly, arrows notched, bolts loaded and ready to fire. To the
enemy it must have appeared they were still trying to induce a
pursuit, moving cautiously enough to flee at a moment’s notice.
They stood their ground and watched the Narkang cavalry approach,
content to wait for them to get too close.
Dassai looked askance
at Daken; the white-eye was sitting hunched in his saddle, fingers
tight around the stained leather grip of his axe. As he gave the
order to fire he saw Daken taking deep breaths, and his face slowly
broke out into a manic grin. The arrows struck and he saw several
men fall from their horses, and a few of the beasts themselves
reared and kicked out in pain.
‘One more volley,’
Daken growled through bared teeth. He slipped the half-helm onto
his head and watched as the horses continued walking forward all
the while, closing the ground slowly and steadily.
Dassai gave the
order, wondering idly whether his general would remember to give
the order, or if he would just charge out all alone — that was
perfectly possible, after all. The second volley killed more, and
the reply from the Litse horsemen fell short, the angle of the
slope and the wind against them.
‘Move, you lazy
fuckers,’ someone commented from Dassai’s left, ‘maybe you’ll get
close enough to hit something smaller than a hill.’ As Daken
laughed out loud the marshal turned to see the speaker was a
squadron captain, probably the most experienced man in the entire
legion.
As bidden, the Litse
began to edge closer, one block of cavalry on the left flank moving
forward to a better position. Dassai felt a surge of anticipation
as he saw the Litse advance, the slope taking them away from their
allies.
‘Fuckers just
dog-legged themselves!’ Daken announced loudly. ‘That’s enough fer
me; charge, you mad bastards!’ The white-eye spurred his horse hard
and the beast leaped forward as Daken raised his axe.
Marshal Dassai’s own
mount followed out of instinct, as did those around him, and even
before he’d had a chance to repeat the order hundreds were already
charging.
Following the
general’s lead, the young marshal urged his horse faster, a javelin
held ready. With the slope on their side the distance dwindled with
shocking speed and as Dassai hurled his javelin, closely followed
by those around him, he saw the shock their charge had already
caused. The Litse left flank was still trying to advance, while the
right flank was trying to turn and withdraw to the safety of the
main body of men, but as he pulled his sabre free, Dassai could see
it was too late, there would be no avoiding their
charge.
Daken barrelled
directly into the exposed right wing of the Litse, screaming
unintelligible curses. An arrow caught him in the upper arm, but he
barely had time to notice before his horse had ploughed straight
into the pale ranks of the enemy. An extended crash followed
moments later as the rest of the troops arrived, but Daken was lost
to his blood-rage. His horse battered a path through the first
rank, and as its padded chest smashed against the first, throwing
the rider from his saddle, Daken’s axe missed the man by a whisker.
The white-eye whirled around and hacked down at the next, his axe
shattering the soldier’s small shield and continuing through his
chest.
Daken wrenched the
weapon back and struck right as his horse pushed deeper into the
Litse ranks. The next was felled as easily as the first, then he
felt a horse smash against his own beast and before he could turn,
an arm grabbed at his, nearly pulling him from the saddle. The
white-eye, screaming curses, hauled back and the moment he felt the
man’s grip give he jabbed over-arm with the butt of his axe and
shattered the man’s cheekbone.
He raised the weapon
again and saw a moment of pure terror on the face of the Litse
before the curved blade chopped down into the side of his head and
blood exploded everywhere, soaking Daken’s face. The white-eye
swore and shook his head, trusting his men to protect him as he
blinked the gore away.
Dassai, seeing his
commander in need, moved in to cover him, but as his sabre glanced
off a Litse’s shield, he realised it wasn’t even necessary - the
Litse were barely even trying to fight back. He looked around and
realised it was the same everywhere; they were struggling against
their own in a frantic bid to escape. Half of the Narkang men had
already pushed through the gap as the wing collapsed under their
assault and were wheeling around to hit the centre Menin legion in
their flank.
He stood tall in his
stirrups, but still couldn’t see much more than a chaotic swirl of
figures as the black livery and flashes of green tore deeper into
the enemy ranks.
‘Watch your back!’
roared a voice beside him, and as Dassai turned the head of an
enemy soldier was snapped backwards as Daken lunged and caught him
in the throat with the spike of his axe.
He didn’t wait to
thank the white-eye but went for the next Litse himself, slashing
the man’s shoulder and tipping him from the saddle. He felt a spear
bite the wooden shield held close to his body and slammed it
against his ribs, but he managed to deflect the weapon and dislodge
it from its owner’s grip by battering the shaft with his sabre.
Before the man could grab his own sword, Dassai had made up the
ground and cut across his exposed face, throwing him back in a
spray of blood.
As the injured man
reeled away it seemed to Dassai that was the breaking point. Like a
herd of cattle, the Litse suddenly turned and bolted, abandoning
their weapons and fleeing from the savage assault. A great cheer
went up as the Litse broke, but the Narkang fighters wasted no time
in exploiting the gap and turned to support those who’d already
pushed through and hit the exposed centre legion. Seeing the first
legion run, the Menin cavalry wilted under the assault and tried to
scatter in all directions.
Seeing the confusion
up ahead Daken roared, ‘Dismount!’ at the top of his
voice.
As the marshal
repeated the order he saw more than a hundred had done so already,
anticipating the order. He too slipped from his saddle and followed
Daken as the white-eye ran towards the Menin cavalry, knowing from
experience it would be impossible to order their lines in time. A
man on horseback normally had the advantage, but cavalry in
disarray couldn’t properly fight off a concerted
assault.
Panicked shouts came
from the enemy line as the Narkang soldiers streamed towards them.
They were only a hundred yards off, tightly packed and boxed in by
the fleeing Litse. In the time it had taken Daken’s men to charge
and butcher a significant number of Litse, the Menin cavalry’s
attempt to turn and attack had failed miserably, a disordered mess
made worse by some of the Litse actually running between squadrons
of Menin in panic. Now many soldiers were milling about in
confusion while dozens of voices yelled conflicting orders,
warnings and curses.
One Menin squadron
took the initiative and lowered spears, but as they began to
advance, their officers called them back and they faltered in
confusion.
Daken ignored
everything but his target, an officer in the Menin front rank. A
pair of horsemen saw him closing in and galloped to stop him, but
before they could run him down, a ghostly figure darted forward in
a blaze of smoky blue light. The horses shied away as Litania
clawed at their eyes and left long bloody trails torn into their
heads. One panicked entirely and ran across the path of other Menin
trying to meet the onrush.
The other rider,
shouting in alarm, wrenched his horse away from the Aspect’s clawed
fingers and wheeled it in a circle as he tried to get the beast
back under control, but Daken reached the man before the circle was
complete and hammered his axe into the man’s back. The Menin arched
in pain and fell, but Daken had already moved on, blood-splattered
and roaring his defiance. Again the enemy shrank back as more of
Daken’s legion arrived, lunging up with their spears and pulling
men from the saddle. Without a cohesive line to defend, the closest
Menin tried to turn away, obstructing their comrades who, not
realising the danger, continued to press forward.
Dassai found Daken
again as he was carving a bloody circle through the air, swinging
two-handed through the panicked Menin. Dassai had his sabre in one
hand and snatched up a discarded spear in the other, using them to
carve a path through the chaos. He got as close to Daken as he
dared, knowing the Menin would be fighting alone, vulnerable to the
Narkang men acting in unison.
Ahead of him Daken
screamed, and foamed bloodily at the mouth where he’d bitten his
own tongue. He gave no thought to tactics as he threw himself at
one Menin after the next, determined to massacre his way through
the enemy ranks. The young marshal was forced to keep back or be
cut down himself as he followed in Daken’s wake, running through
those men who wheeled away from the dervish hacking madly in all
directions.
The Menin didn’t stay
to fight. Within minutes they were sounding the retreat, trying to
batter a path through their comrades. The Narkang had discovered
over the last few weeks the Menin light cavalry hated
close-quarters fighting, and without space to move, their height
advantage meant nothing. Men lay screaming all around, many with
the spears that had driven them from their saddles still lodged in
their bellies.
Just as he began to
see daylight through the thinning crowd of Menin, Dassai slipped on
a bloody tuft of grass, and by the time he recovered his balance,
the bulk of the Menin were throwing their weapons away and fleeing
after their reluctant Litse allies. A few Narkang soldiers pursued,
but they were on foot and soon gave up the chase, panting and
bellowing Daken’s name as they ran back to their
colleagues.
‘Back to the horses!’
Dassai shouted at the top of his voice. Fatigue meant the first few
words were lost on the bulk of their men, but once again, they were
expecting the order. The rest of the Menin would not be far away,
and if they didn’t escape now they’d be the ones on the receiving
end of a charge.
‘Run, you fuckers!’
Daken roared, staring after the fleeing cavalry, ‘run and tell your
lord I’ll do the same ta him!’
‘General!’ Dassai
yelled.
Daken whirled around,
and for a moment his eyes were filled with blind fury, then it
subsided and the white-eye gave him a bloody grin, sweat and blood
running from his bald head. There was still a stub of arrow
protruding from his left arm and a shallow cut running along his
cheek.
‘Dassai,’ he laughed,
raising his axe, ‘first blood to us!’
‘It’s who gets the
last I’m worried about,’ Dassai said, only half-joking as he
watched the advancing Menin.
‘Oh, piss on you,
that was the best fun I’ll have all year,’ the general said,
slapping Dassai on the shoulder as he passed. Daken paused and
leaned close to Dassai’s ear. ‘Now shift yourself, ya bastard!’ he
roared at the top of his voice, and with that, the white-eye set
off towards the abandoned horses, laughing mightily all the
way.
Dassai spared one
last look at the rest of the Menin Army, looming large on the moor
ahead.
That’s the last we’ll run, he promised them
silently. Next time, it’s to the
death.