The Pen and the Sword (Destiny's Crucible Book 2) (39 page)

He
was only halfway through the explanation when Luwis saw it all. “Great God on
high! With their muskets firing from three sides and the cannon canister, they’d
slaughter our men!”

“That
might only be the beginning. Once the main charge was destroyed, the rest of
your riders would be trying to retreat and would run into more riders coming
behind them. Those in the back might not be able to see how bad it was in front
until they were in range themselves, or they’d be so confused you’d lose any
control of your men. The Narthani cavalry on both flanks could encircle your
riders, while the Narthani infantry moved forward. Such a maneuver is called a ‘double
envelopment.’ There’s too many of you for them to kill you all, but you could
easily lose half of your men before withdrawing. The Narthani would then occupy
Moreland City, and the conquest of Clan Moreland would be essentially complete.
The number of men lost and the memory might make if difficult, or even
impossible, to rally the clans in the future.”

Culich
was thoughtful. “If they want us to attack in the center, have they left weaknesses?
If we stay away from their crossing fields of fire, what about their right
flank and the Eywellese horsemen?
If we attack there, will the Narthani
simply adjust their infantry formations, and we’ll be back to having no place
to attack?”

“What
if there were no Eywellese cavalry?” asked Luwis, looking at Yozef.

Yozef
was encouraged that Luwis was thinking tactically. “If the Eywellese cavalry
was not there, then there might be an opportunity to attack the last square on
that side. It would have to be a fast and overwhelming attack before the
artillery position turned their cannon and the other Narthani infantry blocks
moved to face you. Even better would be if you could overrun the artillery
position and turn the guns on the next Narthani infantry block; then the entire
Narthani flank might collapse. I doubt you could completely defeat them, but
they might have to withdraw out of Moreland.”

Culich
stood, a more determined look on his face than minutes earlier. “I think we
understand enough to finish talking about this back in a safer position. We
need also bring the rest of the clans into the planning of what to do next.”

They
mounted and returned to the main Keelan force that was already heading back to
their bivouac site.

The
hetmen argued long into the night over the next day’s action. The Moreland hetman
was unconvinced by Yozef’s arguments, as laid out by Culich. In the end, most
of the hetmen backed Culich, either because they had some inkling of the
arguments or because they settled on a plan not requiring their clans to launch
an assault on the Narthani positions. The final plan was more an exploration of
whether the Eywellese could be lured into abandoning their screening position.
Even if that happened, Yozef doubted the clans could take advantage of the
opportunity.

Yozef
was alternately excited and scared—thrilled to participate in planning an
actual battle and terrified that he had no idea what he was doing.

Second
Day

The
sun rose on a clear day and moderate northerly winds. The same sun that
prompted Yozef to raise a hand to block its rays also warmed Breda Keelan’s
left cheek, as she sat on the veranda and looked north toward Moreland; the
same sun that shone through Maera Kolsko-Keelan’s bedroom window, as she lay
imagining what was happening 160 miles north; and the same sun that shone
through St. Sidryn’s windows to rest on a kneeling abbot.

The
clans deployed into three adjacent groupings. The center and right groups had
the simplest and least risky assignments. All three groups would pretend to
launch direct charges on the Narthani. However, as soon as they came within
estimated musket and canister range, they would stop and mill about as if
undecided how to continue. Only the left group, the Tri-Alliance clans, would
continue on, veering with a feint directly at the Eywellese on the Narthani
flank.

The
plan was simple in conception but dependent on the Eywellese doing something
stupid, such as leave their position guarding the Narthani right flank. It was
Culich who suggested the most likely way to achieve this. He and Hetman Eywell
had a long and bitter relationship. Culich had made no effort in the past to
hide his disdain, and the reciprocal feeling, if anything, was more antagonistic.
Culich and his household banner would lead the charge, then pretend to break
away to the south, in the hope Eywell would be unable to resist pursuing. To
help, the Keelan banner would fly over an upside-down Eywell banner—a
traditional symbol of domination or, in the case of inimical sides, “fuck you,”
as Yozef interpreted.

The
three Tri-Clan hetmen, the senior clan leaders, and Yozef stood around a map
laid out on the ground in front of the massed clans’ horsemen.

“As
Yozef Kolsko suggests, let’s go over the plan one final time. Of the twenty-two
hundred Tri-Clan men answering Moreland’s call, we’ve left two hundred to guard
our encampment and support people. The other two thousand are divided into four
groups. Two groups of six hundred men each will be under me and Hetman
Gwillamer. We will charge directly at the Eywellese. When my flagman signals,
Vortig will lead four hundred men in an apparent retreat, while Hetman
Gwillamer’s group will mill and shift left and parallel to the Eywellese and Narthani
positions. The other two hundred men will follow me and the Keelan banners to
the south, where we hope to tempt the Eywellese to give chase.

“If
Hetman Eywell follows me, four hundred Keelan dragoons under Denes Vegga await,
hiding in the brush across the creek bed at the end of the alley in the trees
and low hillocks. Yozef Kolsko will be with Vegga to oversee the swivel gun and
crossbow carriages.”

“Pardon,
Culich,” interrupted Hetman Mittack. “None of my people have experience with
this artillery, as it’s being called, and we only know of them in a few
Caedellium port defenses. I know you say they are important, but how much of
this plan depends on them?”

“I’ve
seen them in test exercises, and they’re impressive,” said Denes, “though I’m
not counting on them today. The muskets in the ambush should fell the most
forward Eywellese horsemen who follow Hetman Keelan. Those Eywellese farther
behind will run onto a tangle of downed men and horses, and it should be
chaotic enough for us to pick off most of the rest. If the swivel carriages
work as anticipated, it will go even worse for the Eywellese.”

I
hope he’s right
,
Yozef prayed.
We’ve practiced enough, but drills and battles aren’t the same
.

“The
plan is of three parts,” continued Culich,” all dependent on tricking the
Eywellese into abandoning their primary role—protecting the Narthani infantry
flank. 
If
the Eywellese follow our feigned rout, the two hundred men
under me will lure the Eywellese into the ambush. If needed, we’ll wheel and
support the four hundred men forming the ambush. Plus, Hetman Mittack waits
farther behind the ambush with our final four hundred men. If the ambush is
successful enough, my two hundred plus Mittack’s four hundred will circle north
to attack the rear of the Eywellese. Vortig Luwis and Hetman Gwillamer will rally
their thousand to cut off the retreat of the Eywellese in the ambush and, if
possible, assault the remaining Eywellese screening the Narthani infantry block.
Once the ambush is cleared, the dragoons and the artillery will remount and
move toward the last Narthani infantry block. Yozef assures us that smoke from
the Narthani guns will already be obscuring views, and that will be enhanced by
some of Luwis’s men dragging burning straw bales along the Narthani flank,
setting the grass afire. So far, the wind is in our favor, and the smoke should
add to the temporary Narthani confusion.

“The
leaders of our horsemen will have to decide quickly if there are opportunities
to attack the flank or the rear of the Narthani artillery position or assist
the dragoons.”

Culich
stood up from the map, as did all of the men. “Remember, this is a multi-step
plan and is to be aborted at any point, if necessary. If the Eywellese don’t
fall for our trick, we simply withdraw back to the current positions. Same
thing if the ambush doesn’t succeed as well as we believe or takes too long and
the Narthani adjust their positions. If we proceed to attack the Narthani
flank, we will press on only as long as we have the advantage. Kolsko warns us,
and I agree, not to try to engage the Narthani under any conditions where we
don’t have advantages. Any final thoughts or questions?”

 The
grim men glanced at one another. None spoke.

“Then,
men of Mittack, Gwillamer, and Keelan, may God be with us this day. I pray to
see you all this evening.”

Aivacs
Zulfa’s horse sensed its rider’s tension and skidded to one side, bumping
against Nuthrat Metan’s mount. Other horses reacted, and the Narthani command
staff settled each of their horses and resumed a semi-circle, facing east
toward Moreland City. Zulfa had carefully selected their army’s position, a
mainly flat plain with clear fields of fire for muskets and cannon and limited
room for the clans to use their horsemen to threaten the Narthani rear.

Metan
commanded their left wing, including the Narthani heavy cavalry and the
Selfcell horsemen. The ridgeline farther left obviated any clan attack on that
flank and freed their cavalry to exploit openings. If all went according to
plan, the Caedelli mass horse charge would be broken up by artillery and
crossing fields of fire, and Zulfa would signal for their heavy cavalry to use
the weight of their larger horses and armor to ride down the disordered and
disheartened islanders or to lead the Selfcellese on the left wing of a double
envelopment.

Erkan
Ketin directed the middle of the Narthani line, which included maneuvering the
infantry and the artillery into the killing arc. He was the oldest of Zulfa’s
subordinates, and Zulfa doubted Ketin would rise further in rank, but he was
solid and dependable—the right man to orchestrate this maneuver.

The
right wing of the deployment was under Memas Erdelin, a member of a prominent
family with significant influence in Narthani society and imbued with excessive
self-confidence. Zulfa didn’t like the man, but, despite reservations about his
ability, Erdelin hadn’t yet given Zulfa sufficient reason to approach General
Akuyun to replace him. Zulfa suspected the relative unreliability of the
Eywellese was somehow related to Erdelin, though he didn’t know how. Not that
there was any doubt about either Erdelin’s or the Eywellese’s willingness to
fight. Rather, Zulfa’s concern was their not thinking clearly and acting more
aggressively than warranted. For today, Erdelin and the Eywellese had an easy task:
hold the right flank and be prepared to join a general pursuit or envelopment.

Zulfa
surveyed the Caedelli arraying a mile away in three separate masses of
horsemen, separated by gaps. Banners identified nine clans besides Moreland.

“A
few more of them than we expected from Assessor Hizer’s briefings,” noted Ketin
quietly, as he swept down the Caedelli deployment with his telescope. “The
middle group is larger and aimed directly at our center. Those two flanking
groups are smaller and won’t come completely into the killing zone. I think our
last blocks and the cavalry can hold them off while we deal with the main
group.”

“The
more of them the better,” appraised Erdelin, lowering his own telescope. “If we
kill enough today, the sooner the clans submit and we can get back to Narthon.”

“Well,
we’re ready, and they’re here,” Zulfa said loud enough for this three immediate
subordinates and all of their staffs to hear over the horses and the background
noises of the army. “If they don’t attack today, we’ll move forward to Moreland
City tomorrow and force their hand.”

“It’ll
be today,” said Metan. “I can feel it.”

“We’ll
see,” said Zulfa, looking down at a diagram of their deployment.

An
aide spoke urgently, “Brigadier, they’re moving.”

Zulfa
looked up sharply and saw all three masses of Caedelli horsemen in motion. At
first, it appeared as a rippling; then, when he used the telescope attached to
his saddle, he could see the Caedelli horses moving forward at a walk. It was
at times like this when he felt helpless. All of his sub-commanders knew their
roles, and he could only watch and trust them to carry out their instructions.
Only if things went badly would he issue new orders in the next few minutes.

“This
may be it,” he said more calmly than he felt. “Colonels, to your positions.”

Ketin,
Metan, and Erdelin galloped to their stations, their staffs following.

Denes
Vegga halted the ambush force behind a forest patch a quarter-mile south of the
dense brush covering the western bank of the creek bed where they hoped to
ambush the Eywellese. The men sat or stood holding their horses’ reins, the
swivel gun and crossbow artillery crews huddled to one side. The carriage
limbers carried premeasured bags of powder, shot bags, explosive quarrels, and powder
horns to charge the swivel initiation chambers. Six horses pulled the swivel
carriages, plus their limbers. Although four horses could manage, six provided
more speed and a safety margin if one or two horses were injured, either in
battle or through accidents. The lighter crossbow carriages and limbers needed
only four horses.

The
effective range of the three-barreled swivel pieces was not much more than 150 yards,
better than nothing. However, Yozef wasn’t confident about the quarrel
launchers and ordered the crews not to take part in the ambush.

Each
carriage had a crew of eight men, more than needed, but it took into account
possible casualties, so extra men would allow the guns to continue firing. It
also provided extra men for a hoped-for use, along with another thirty men with
muskets waiting nearby. All of the men had experience with the swivel and dry
runs with inert mock 6-pounders. They all could man the tri-swivel carriages,
but as important was the possibility that the islanders would capture the
southern Narthani artillery position and turn the guns on their owners.

Yozef
was dubious about their plan. It all sounded plausible when talking and
diagramming on the ground and later on paper, but too many parts had to work,
and once set in motion the opportunity to adjust would be limited. He had argued
vociferously against the hetman exposing himself to the forefront of the feigned
attack on the Eywellese but begrudgingly understood the best chance of enticing
Hetman Eywell out of his position was to offer a prize Eywell couldn’t resist.

Gynfor
Moreland and his two sons, Owain and Caedem, led the Moreland contingent forward.
First at a walk, then quickening the pace to a trot, as the entire mass of
horsemen flowed forward. Behind him were three thousand Moreland riders, the
best fighting men of his clan. To his left and his right were another two
thousand riders from the Adris and Hewell, and the Stent and Pewitt clans,
respectively. A sense of exhilaration flooded through him, followed by
frustration. As an adolescent, he’d dreamed of leading such a charge as
recounted in legends, but this was only to be a feint. He could see the two
wings of the Narthani deployment and the sparsely occupied center. With the men
at his back, how hard could it be to burst through the Narthani line, split their
force in two, and annihilate them?

Welman
Stent urged his horse into a trot. He had reiterated to his major subordinates
that their clan’s role was a ruse, reminding them so often, they sickened of
his nagging. Beside him at the head of his clansmen were flagmen pointing their
flag staves forward. On his orders, they would raise the flags, the signal for
Stent and Pewitt men to wheel ninety degrees and sweep to the right across the
Narthani front. The Hewell and Adris contingents to the Moreland left had
similar instructions from their hetmen.

Culich
led the Tri-Clan Alliance advance. Their instructions were more intricate. They
aimed at the junction between the last Narthani infantry block and the
Eywellese cavalry screening their flank. The twelve hundred Alliance horsemen
would only feign an attack. Most would pretend to retreat or would slide slowly
left in front of the Narthani. Only two hundred riders would follow Culich in
tempting an Eywell pursuit into the ambush. Although they hoped to stay out of
effective musket range and out of alignment with the Narthani artillery position,
they would still take casualties—a price Culich understood had to be paid. 

Erkan
Ketin sat on his horse a hundred yards behind the central infantry block, along
with his staff and signalmen carrying the flags that would direct the planned
force movements. So far, the Caedelli were cooperating in taking the bait to attack
what they saw as the weak Narthani center. The two smaller groups of clansmen
might not enter the trap, but the large central group, now at a canter, was
aimed directly at him and had enough horsemen for a crushing blow.

Hetman
Brandor Eywell watched from the head of his fifteen hundred men, his oldest son,
Biltin, next to him, trying to control his black stallion from biting other
horses. For his youngest son, Demian, who was only seventeen, this was his
first major fight, and his father thought it time. The boy was eager enough,
though not experienced in leading older men.

Brandor
could see the Tri-Alliance horsemen approaching his position. He had feared
they would attack the Narthani directly and not give him a chance to pay back
his clan’s traditional enemy, the hated and arrogant Keelanders.

Major
Patmir Tullok stood left of his command, the rightmost Narthani infantry block
of five hundred pike and musket men. It was his first battle as a major, and
his block’s primary task was protecting the flank of the artillery batteries
containing half of the army’s cannon. They also formed one end of the arc of
the trap. To his right were the Eywellese riders and the sounds of their horses
shuffling hooves in place, neighing and snorting, and the voices of their
riders made it necessary for his subordinates to raise their voices to be
heard. It would worsen, because the rumbling of the Caedelli horses moving into
a gallop was just rising above the Eywellese noise. Once the artillery and his muskets
opened fire, it would be impossible to hear anything from the man next to him
without shouting in his ear.

Denes
and the four men commanding a hundred each watched to the east, where three men
stood on a hilltop a half-mile away. Those three men could see the battlefield
hidden from Denes’s view. There were three men to ensure the correct signal was
given. They each had two flags lying on the ground in front of them. A raised red
flag meant the plan was called off, and Denes was to withdraw back to the
original Tri-Alliance position. A white flag meant the clans had moved to a
full gallop and Denes’s group was to move into ambush position. He didn’t know
which flag he hoped for most.

His
wondering ended when a man next to him shouted, “The white flags!”

Denes
jerked his head to the northwest, and there they were—three waving white flags.
“You’re off, Wainrin,” he ordered to his cousin, who was leading the hundred men
in their vanguard. Wainrin acknowledged with a touch to his hat and rode off to
his men, some of whom had also seen the flags and were mounted by the time he
got to them. They rode hard toward their intended position, followed by the
next two hundred, the eighty men of the artillery group, including Yozef and
his bodyguards, and the final hundred. Four hundred Mittackese waited farther
back and would follow Denes’s group to await the outcome of the ambush.

Not
from his own choosing, Yozef found himself leading the pathetic excuse for
Keelan artillery. He had no sooner sat in the saddle than Seabiscuit followed
Carnigan’s and Wyfor’s mounts to the front of the carriages and crews. He
shifted uneasy in the saddle, knowing he was no leader. By the time they moved
a half-mile, he realized his mood had shifted almost to anticipation before he
jerked himself back to reality. He knew from reading and experience with gaming
that a martial spirit was addictive, but this wasn’t a game. Men would soon be
dying, even possibly himself.

Christ,
I hope they understood enough to break off if any part goes wrong.

He
also prayed that having
any
plan was a good idea.

Aivacs
Zulfa stood at his command position on an eight-foot-high platform rising from a
slightly higher portion of the flat plain. From there, he had partial views of
his army’s deployment and the Caedelli. So far, so good. If they kept coming,
the middle group would be entirely within the killing zone. They’d moved from a
trot to a canter. Soon they’d have to be at a full gallop.
He knew even
the inexperienced Caedelli must realize the need to close the distance in the
shortest time once they were in musket and cannon range. Where they erred was
expecting to survive to close with his troops. Their mistake would be fatal and
the beginning of the end of clan resistance.

The
drumming of his own horse’s hoofs striking the ground was felt but not heard by
Culich Keelan: the thunder of thousands of hooves drowned out any other sound.
He and the accompanying riders carrying Keelan Clan banners were thirty yards
behind the leading riders. His men had insisted he have a screen in front of
him for when they came within Narthani and Eywell shot range. It rankled him to
know his men offered themselves as living shields, for he still felt the pull
of the traditional Caedellium code of leading from the front. Another part of
him was ashamed that he couldn’t hide from himself some measure of relief for
his own safety.

 “Now!”
exclaimed Zulfa into the air, as he watched the central clan mass of horsemen
approaching the edge of shot range. As if Ketin had read his mind, Zulfa saw
signalmen hoisting colored banners on poles. Within moments, there was a shift
in the Narthani block positions, the single isolated central block moving back,
the side blocks turning slightly inward, and the two side reserve blocks trotting
forward to fill the gaps alongside the central block. The entire change took
less than a minute to form an arc with the main clan mass charging straight to
the arc’s focal point.