Steel And Flame (Book 1) (62 page)

It would have been a disaster for Galemar if the
Noliers had been able to swiftly climb the earthworks.  But the climb was slow,
so though the darkness and their own camouflage gave them an advantage, the
Galemarans still outnumbered them man-to-man.  The defenders were able to hold
at the cost of taking heavier damage than earlier.  Archers picked men off the
slope when they could, the swordsmen ran to cut them from the top if they could
not.

Marik quickly retreated to his body so he could speak,
maintaining his magesight to watch the Nolier auras.  “Sir, the center group is
moving for the barricade!  They’re going to hit it while everyone else is
busy!”

“Bow shot?”

“Not yet.”

The major rested his hand on the rope, waiting for
Marik to declare them half the distance from the outer range of the archers. 
When Marik did so, he sounded the bell again, this time hitting the ringing
metal curve twice.

Galemaran archers fired their next volley into the
approaching hidden mass.  Several went wild.  Many found marks in the
darkness.  With the redirection of the arrows, the Noliers climbing the muddy
mounds gained the top in greater numbers.  The swordsmen were forced to fight
for their lives as well as for the supply depot’s defense.

“Where are they?”

“On the other side of the barricade!  They’re swarming
up the side!”  Marik quickly drifted for a closer look.  “They’re going to chop
it apart!”

The barricade was sectional, built so it could be
taken apart from inside as needed.  It consisted of two log walls, their tops
sharpened to points, with a hollow space between.  Men who scaled the front
would find themselves trapped while defenders used long spears to kill them
through holes cut for the purpose in the inside wall.

Several attackers made it over the first wall with
minimal damage from the sharp points.  Defenders inside brought them down with
their spears but Marik could see it would quickly fall.  The barricade had been
designed to be defended by archers atop the earthworks to either side of the
breach…except the rain, clouds, darkness and Nolier uniforms made shooting with
accuracy nearly impossible.  Already the axes wielded by the Noliers had split
the logs, tearing apart the bindings of the first barricade wall.

Enson rang the bell three times.  The spearmen
snatched up small casks.  Others grabbed axes to break apart a line of the
small barrels nestled against the inside wall.  Men climbed the inner
earthwork, which rose as tall as the barricade, and tossed their loads over. 
Casks landed on the earth between the barricade walls or on the heads of
attackers who had jumped over.  They burst apart and splashed their oily
contents.  It spread quickly across the wet ground.  Spearmen dashed the broken
casks against the wood.

Warning shouts rose while the attackers spilt apart
the first wall.  The Noliers poured into the breach to begin work on the
second.  Different shouts followed when the nearest defenders threw torches
over the wall or at its base.  Flames exploded in a tower of brilliant fury and
roaring howls, engulfing the wall in an instant, spreading across the breach’s
sodden floor.  It had been dug at an angle so the oil flowed into the trench
away from the depot.  Axe-wielding men were killed in an instant.  Nearly fifty
others behind were set afire from the feet up.

Panic quickly spread among the Noliers, a wild beast
nearly impossible to tame.  Blazing men fell backward into the trench, landing
on those who had been pressing the attack.  Others jumped with their legs in
flames.  They landed across the trench and rolled, trying to extinguish
themselves, quickly learning it was not so easy to put out Galemaran war oil. 
Douse it in water and still it burns unless completely smothered in sand or
dirt.  A lucky few managed to save themselves by burrowing into the mud, so
injured afterward they could barely move.  Most ran, desperate to save their
lives, screaming in agony as the flames burned through their wet clothing. 
Human fireballs streaked across the dark field in mindless terror, throwing
themselves at others in desperate hope, a gruesome imitation of how Marik had
viewed the stealthy advance with his magesight.

Confused, uncertain, the swordsmen on the earthworks
hesitated anew, leaving themselves open for crucial moments.  The defenders
took advantage.  Bright, towering flames illuminated the attackers.  It robbed
them of their unearthly presence.  Plainly distinguishable, they fell to the
renewed onslaught.  Confronted on one side with the superior number of
defenders and on the other with a blazing conflagration and the horrible
screams from their own, the Noliers turned in retreat.

Most fled west, away from the depot and the light. 
Marik’s eyes marked them where they ran.  He left his body behind, following
them until they stopped a mile away.  The Noliers were exhausted from running
in full gear or nursing wounds and burns.  Several auras walked from man to
man.  They would be the officers, working to reorganize everyone.

Once they had gathered everyone they thought had
survived, they set off as a group.  To the south this time, rather than the
north.

“I think they’ll cut east to get back into the Green
Reaches once they’re clear of us,” Earnell offered.  He had come up the tower
to report to Enson and check on his man.

The major nodded.  “I’m sure you’re right.  They lost
half their men and only caused us minimal damage.  They need to report and
regroup with their own forces.”

“I can still see several men out there,” Marik
informed them.  “Individuals and pairs mostly.  They didn’t rejoin with the
main group.  Probably they’re lost or injured.”

Earnell supplied, “They’ll make their own way east,
once they get their bearings.”

“Or west,” the major countered.  “They could be deserters
who have had enough of the army and decided to get out.  They might want to
sell us information in return for a sack full of coin.”

“Or join up and become bandits along the road.  That’s
common enough as well.”

The major nodded.  “Very true, I’m afraid.  I will
send out sweeper teams in the morning, as soon as the oil burns out and we can
leave on horseback.”

“I can take my squad and collect the leftovers.  Marik
will be a help in ferreting them out from their holes.”

“Agreed.  I will tell your commanding officer I am
taking over your men.”

“Speaking of him,” Marik suddenly thought aloud.  “He
should be coming up from the south soon.  Those Noliers are heading right for
them.”  He focused his vision southward.  Balfourth’s group still lay beyond his
range.  “I can’t see them yet, but they might step on each other in the dark.”

“Hells!” swore the major.  “None of the horses can get
out while the fire is burning!”  He stopped, thinking hard.

Earnell offered, “They know there are enemy forces
around, so they’ll be coming on their guard.  They might still miss each
other.”

“Not good enough.”  He reached over to ring the bell
once.  Everyone below froze to look up, wondering what else had gone wrong. 
The major shouted over the noise of the rain and the fire.  “Every man with a
free hand, start throwing mud on that fire!  Get it out now!”

Men scrambled and he muttered, “This is all we need. 
You, keep an eye out for the second half of your deployment.  You see them or
anything I would want to know about, you run and tell me!”

*        *        *        *        *

Marik followed the remnants of the Nolier regiment as
they limped south.  The mounted troops who had survived were acting as scouts
for the larger group, riding cautiously forward in the dark, their pace nearly
as slow as the foot soldiers behind.  After half a candlemark they found the
road and decided the speed it afforded them would be worth the risk of any
encounters they might make.

They were almost four miles south by then.  Marik
strained hard as he could to see them, his limits nearly exhausted.  The band
Enson had sent on foot once it became clear the fire would outlast the darkness
into morning remained two miles north of the Noliers, following the road to
meet Balfourth.  Although three-hundred men formed the group from the depot, a
battle in the dark would only be approximately even in numbers if they met
Balfourth’s company.  Otherwise they would be outnumbered by three-to-one.

They knew the risks, and they knew the Noliers were
out there.  When Marik prepared to give it up, a faint glow slightly beyond the
Noliers caught his attention.  He taxed his sight to push it farther than ever
before, watched the glow grow, and knew it could only be one thing.

The major taught him several imaginative oaths when
Marik informed him.

With nothing else to do, Marik left the lookout tower
and went to fling mud at the bonfire.  Few of the fellow workers were also
fellow Kings, but he felt little worry at their absence.  The depot defenders
had given far more than they’d received and the fighting he witnessed should
have caused no real harm to a Crimson Kings detachment.  Marik spent a few
minutes with a spade hurling thick mud before using the early departure the
major had ordered as an excuse to call it quits.

A construction foremen directed him to the compound’s
east end where he found the low tents marking the Ninth’s personal bunking
area.  He poked his head into several before he found his own.

“Here now, what do you think you’re playing at?”
Dietrik demanded when Marik stuck his head inside.  “You’d better scrape that
muck off before you even
think
of tracking it all over in here!”

“You think you’re my mother, Dietrik?”

“I’d join a cloister with vows of celibacy if I were. 
I’m serious!  I am
not
spending the night rolling in freezing sludge. 
Especially not after an entire day of it!”

Dietrik threw him a rag.  Marik sat inside the flap
while he futilely wiped at his boots.  He looked at Landon’s snoring form and
asked, “Where’s Kerwin?”

“Having his arm wrapped up.  He took a slash across
the forearm.  Nothing serious,” he added when Marik raised his eyebrows.  “What
about you?  The good major keep you nice and busy?”

“Enough.  I won’t have any trouble falling asleep
tonight.  Speaking of which, shove over.  You the one who brought my bedroll
in?”

“Yes.  It was right next to mine so I decided it
wouldn’t be much trouble.  Have you heard about our duty tomorrow?”

“Clean up.  I was there when Earnell volunteered.”

“Oh well.  At least we can stay away from His
Mightiness.”

“Speaking of whom, his group probably just got
ambushed on the road.”

“Oh?”

“Enson’s troops should get there before the Noliers
overrun them, if they haven’t already.”

“Double praise to the various deities then.  We won’t
have to listen to Balfourth bitch about it tomorrow.”

“Hmm,” Marik said as he wrung out his clothing. 
“Maybe the Noliers will do us a favor and send him on to the next life.”

“I don’t know any gods who are that free with their
blessings,” Dietrik concluded.

“Pity.”

Kerwin failed to return by the next morning so the
three tent mates went to the empty warehouse temporarily reassigned as an
infirmary.  Cot rows filled the hastily constructed building.  They quickly
found Kerwin, who was at that moment being tended to.

“They’ve been at it all night,” he said, cheery for a
wounded man.  “Lot of fellows worse off than me, so I sort of let them cut in
line, if you see what I mean.”

Men by the dozen lay atop blankets on the floor
between cots, not one of which were empty.

“It was damn noisy at first.  Sounded like souls being
tortured, and everyone running in every direction.  But what really slowed them
down was
that
damned fool over there.”  He gestured with his unslung arm
toward a partition at the ramshackle room’s far end.

“Who?” asked Marik.

“Can’t you guess?  They hauled in that idiot son of
Dornory’s in the middle of the night, screaming his crackbrain head off for a
true Healer.  You’d have thought he lost half his arm or his guts were trailing
along behind him.”

“And they weren’t, knowing our luck.”

“Nah.  He only had a little cut across the side of his
head.  Only needed a stitch or two, but he was yelling enough to raise the roof
off this place.  Spent half his time calling the army chirurgeons know-nothing
hacks and the other demanding they fix him up right.”

“Did he say what happened?” inquired Landon.

“Oh, yeah!”  He grinned viciously.  “He’s been
shouting about it, and I talked to his men who were in here a while back.  Got
a funny sense of the world, that boy has.  Seems those Noliers left after the
cut up with us and stumbled on his detachment coming north, then decided to
wait off to the side, until Balfourth’s group went past.  Except the group
Major Enson sent came up behind them in the dark.  They must have thought the
whole damned lot of us was coming after them and they broke.  They tried going
around Balfourth’s company in the dark and when they got there, guess what they
found?”

“Balfourth and his noble peers heroically covering the
rear?”

“Right in one.  Balfourth knew trouble had rolled
double-ones on him and was screaming at the men to go find out what was
happening.  The Noliers took him for someone who knew what he was doing and
decided to cut around the back and slice up the officers on their way past. 
Almost did us a favor, too.  They got two of the others.  Only nicked him. 
He’s been swearing and cursing them all night for having the gall to attack a
noble.”

In awe, Marik wondered, “This is the same man who’s
been ranting at us all spring for not killing Fielo?  And now he’s mad a noble
got injured?”

“I told you before not to try figuring him out,”
Landon reminded Marik.  “You can’t.”

“Yeah,” continued Kerwin.  “He subscribes to the
‘honorable’ view of warfare.  You can kill surfs and peasants until you wallow
in blood, but harming a noble is an ‘uncivilized’ act.”  He paused a moment
before he added, “They got his horse, too.  Almost forgot to tell you that.  He
was going on about it like Hall’Kyon Herself had come down and given it to
him.  Haven’t heard him say word one about his men who bought it.”

“If we’re lucky,” Landon continued, “he will decide to
leave the frontline and go home now that he’s been in actual combat and seen
that real war isn’t the glorious spectacle he only knows from bards and
minstrels.”

“We’d better hope so.”

“Now what?”  Marik disliked the way Kerwin had said
that.

“One of these genius sawbones wanted to cheer him up
by saying how lucky it was that ‘one of those mercenary fellows’ was acting as
a scout against the Nolier gang and sent the extra forces in.”

“No I wasn’t!  I was in the lookout tower!”

“That’s probably how he heard it.  Anyway, boy-o over
there thinks he was only attacked because
we
were being lazy and spooked
the Noliers out of the bushes straight at him.  Or maybe he thinks we did it on
purpose.”

Marik felt stunned.  “That’s terrific!  Was he born
stupid?”

“Most likely.”

Dietrik interrupted the conversation.  “Are you riding
out with us?”

Kerwin looked surprised.  “Of course I am!  I caught
enough sleep last night while waiting for a free hand, and you don’t think
this
is going to slow me down?  It’s not like it’s my sword arm.  What else is going
to stop me?”

“Then lets go before he wakes.  I’d rather not be
around then.”

“Good point.”  He paused for a moment as he stood. 
“Err, say could one of you help me saddle up my horse?”

*        *        *        *        *

“There’s the depot garrison!”  Nial pointed his flail
northward along the road.

“Finally!” Hayden swore while he loosed another shaft
and pulled one of the few remaining from his mount quiver.  “This is exactly
why I hate the border!”

Earnell called for further retreat, an act of wasted
breath.  The entire Ninth squad fell back as fast as they dared, trying to
prevent it from becoming a full rout.  Second Unit held point and suffered the
worst damage from the heavy horse brigade they had encountered during their
sweep.

The garrison force closed.  Their sudden presence
startled the Nolier brigade.  Since the earlier rain had saturated the ground,
no errant dust cloud had betrayed their approach.  Soon the Galemaran soldiers
flowed around the Crimson Kings.  When they hit the horse brigade on two
flanks, the retreat halted, becoming a pitched battle.

When a high-ranking uniform rode past Marik, he
shouted, “Officer!”  Army rank insignia were still a mystery to him, so he had
no clue how to address this man.

The depot guard captain turned his head to see who was
shouting words other than a battle cry.  Marik took advantage.

“This is only half!  Another heavy horse brigade is
holding open a retreat line through the Green Reaches for the survivors!”

The captain nodded to show he understood the message
before returning his attention to directing his men.

It had been the hells own shock to come on this heavy
brigade.  All morning Marik had searched the surrounding area with his
magesight to find escapees from the depot attack.  The Kings had already
rounded up fourteen men they’d found slinking through the dense woods.  Once
the Noliers realized they were outmatched and would be taken prisoner rather than
be killed outright, they accepted their lot as prisoners of war, joining their
fellows herded along by the drogue riders.

An escapee had broken from the woods before the entire
squad, obvious to everyone, not merely Marik.  He’d run across the open stretch
east to the Green Reaches, never having a chance to outrun the mounted Kings. 
Or so it had seemed.  When they’d spurred after the surprisingly fast runner
near the forest line, cavalry had erupted from the trees.

They were spread out, unable to hold rank in the
forest.  Their sudden entrance had given the riders the crucial moments needed
to arrange in proper formation.  How their auras had been hidden from Marik’s
sight was a mystery he could devote no time to solve.  The Kings were suddenly
hard pressed to survive.

Half of Second Unit’s men were dead, and the toll on
the rest weighed heavy as well.  Knox had been beheaded by a flashing saber
when a Nolier rider swept past, a bloody fountain gushing from his neck to
spray everyone around while his body tumbled to the offal-coated ground.  Three
others from the Fourth who Marik knew only casually fell also.  Everyone
sported wounds of varying degrees as the riders pushed them mercilessly.

They had been close enough to the depot to set off the
red smoke signal devised by the alchemists which denoted a desperate need for
help, and they could only concentrate on staying alive, praying a lookout saw
it.

Apparently one had.

The captain quickly studied the situation and ordered
all pikemen to the fore to hold off the horses.  None in the heavy brigade
wielded lances.  Their horses were protected by chain barding.  If the
Galemarans were trained well with their pikes, they should be able to split the
chainmail that had protected the mounts against hastily aimed arrows and
glancing sword strikes thus far.

Pikemen halted the Nolier advance when they interposed
themselves between the Kings and the riders.  Mounts fell, screaming with
horrible cries so like a man’s.  Riders forced their horses back several steps
by sawing on the reins.  They spurred to flank the pikes but the captain
ordered his archers to harass any who tried to circle the defenders.  Every
time the Noliers attempted, they were beset by a shower of arrows.  Lucky shots
felled two cavalrymen when they found chinks in the heavy armor.

The Kings retreated half a mile before stopping to
lick their wounds.  Marik bore a cut on his forehead that bled into his left
eye.  Ripped breeches with scrapes down his leg had been caused when his mount
crashed into a cavalryman’s horse, the Nolier’s greeves tearing into his
unprotected flesh.

“Here come more men,” he said to Dietrik, who
inspected his sleeve where a blade had torn it.  “I hope they aren’t leaving
the depot unguarded!”

“They’re garrison men to be sure.  I have yet to see
the rest of our own deployment.  The major must have decided to leave them
minding the house while he lets his greener men bloody their noses.”

“They’ll need everyone they can down there.  Look!”

From the Green Reaches, the other Nolier riders
emerged to join the fight.  They were still invisible to his magesight. 
Whatever initial spell had concealed their presence remained unbroken.

The second depot company streamed past to assist their
shieldmates.  Marik noticed many carried pole arms with heads shaped like an
axe fused to a short blade running up the back side.  Its blade curved in a
hook that sported several angular notches sharpened to a razor’s edge.  They
looked wicked and terrible.

“By the gods, what are those?” he asked Dietrik while
the men continued past.

His friend shrugged.  Edwin, who had dismounted to
examine his mount’s wounds, answered.  “Rein cutters.  Exactly what they need
over there, too.”

“What?”

“You catch the reins on a horse in those notches and
cut them away so the rider can’t control it.  They can get in close enough to
do it too, since the Noliers don’t have any lances with them to keep us at a
distance.”

“They did enough damage on their own!”

Edwin nodded.  “Good thing they didn’t have lances,
else most of us would likely be worm food.”

Fraser moved about, counting heads and injuries.  He
reached Marik and Dietrik, the last in his unit.  “Four men gone.  Not too bad
then.”

“Acceptable losses?” Marik snarled, feeling angry, his
memory flashing on his comatose dreams of Ashlin’s accusations.

“Compared to the First and Second, yes.  The Second
lost half their unit and the First nearly as many.”

Marik bit back his feelings.  Fraser was right, of
course.  They had been lucky, though if they had led the squad during the sudden
attack, the Fourth Unit might be the one cut to ribbons.

“Dove died, so Earnell’s combining the First and
Second under Bindrift.”

“We’re only three units now?”

“It’s the risks we take, Marik.”  Fraser wandered back
toward Earnell, who spoke lowly with Bindrift and Giles.

Ninth Squad spent the rest of the afternoon watching
the battle.  The Noliers were outnumbered two-to-one but their war-horses and
armor covered the difference.  Men armed with rein cutters dismounted to stand
by the pikemen, waiting for an opportunity to snag a cavalryman’s reins.  They
were effective when they managed to catch the thin leather strips.  Once the
Noliers caught on they worked to stay clear of the evil bladed hooks.

Pikes prevented the calvary from charging, yet the chainmail
barding on the war-horses kept the long weapons from being as effective as they
could have been.  Swordsmen were interspersed among the pikemen to protect
against the cavalry’s sabers.  Since they were mounted, the cavalry held the
advantage in such encounters.  The soldiers refused to be drawn in.  They never
pressed the attack, only defended themselves and the pikemen who used their
pikes to best advantage while the riders were distracted.

As such the battle nearly became a standoff, with few
victories on either side until the rein cutters slowly made the difference. 
Occupied with both sword and pike, the riders were gradually taken down one by
one when the cutters found their mark.  Once the reins were destroyed the
horsemen could no longer control their mounts.  Rider and horse soon fell to
the Galemarans.  It turned into a battle of attrition while the afternoon
crawled past.

The men who had taken down riders turned to help their
shieldmates, and the casualty rate finally escalated for the Noliers, at last
forcing them to break for the Green Reaches.