The Pen and the Sword (Destiny's Crucible Book 2) (43 page)

As
they pulled up beside the first two carriages, Yozef could see both pieces
firing barrels alternately. As before, they reloaded only the two outer
barrels. Several of the men were down, hit by musket fire. He saw one man fall,
to be immediately pulled aside and another take his place. Their smaller-barreled
pieces were having an effect, but with only six swivel barrels firing and
crewmembers falling and being replaced, the loss of crew cohesion dramatically
slowed the reload and accuracy rate.

Other
men were trying, unsuccessfully, to get some of the Narthani pieces into
action. A knot of Keelanders had turned a loaded Narthani 12-pounder at the
next infantry block but had the elevation high, and the already loaded canister
passed over the Narthani.

We
have to get more guns firing faster!
Yozef thought frantically.

Despite
the dummy practice Yozef had put these men through, handling Narthani 12-pounders
under fire was a different world.

He
ran to where a crew tried to get another Narthani gun into action. They worked
hard but were uncoordinated. With Yozef yelling and Carnigan forcing men into
their proper positions, they got the gun turned and properly elevated. This
crew wasn’t sure what to do next, because the Narthani shot components looked different
from the ones they had practiced with. The powder bags were black cloth; their
own practice ones were white. Their own canister rounds were simple thick cloth
bags holding the rounds, while Yozef recognized the Narthani rounds as wooden
cylinders. One was lying to its side, split open and the balls visible.

Yozef
put a powder bag in the muzzle. A man with a rammer was by his side immediately
and rammed it down the barrel. Yozef grabbed the nearest canister round and
slid it into the muzzle, and the same man rammed it home. Normally, a wad of
something—cloth, rope, or whatever was handy—would follow to hold the powder
and the shot in place. Since the gun already pointed in the right direction and
elevation, Yozef skipped the wad. Another man roused himself and found a powder
horn draped over the shoulder of a dead Narthani and remembered what to do
next. He tapped powder into the firing hole of the cannon, pulled out a
smoldering piece of rope from a leather bag at his side, and touched the
glowing end to the hole’s opening.

The
cannon, to Yozef’s surprise, fired, didn’t explode in their faces, and had an
immediate effect on the Narthani block. A whole section of line flattened, as
if a giant fly swatter had swept through. The men in the crew whooped and
scrambled to reload.

Yozef
left them and went to the next crew. There were six men when he started toward
them. A Narthani musket ball hit one crewmember before Yozef got to them. They
had watched enough of Yozef helping the other crew that he only stood by for a
few seconds, as they finished loading, stood back, and fired before he moved
on. Another crew figured it all out themselves, and Yozef ran to the next
cannon, this one with ten men getting in one another’s way. Two of the men went
down simultaneously, and Yozef quickly got the others to remember their crew
positions, and he helped load.

While
they fired and started the reloading cycle, Yozef looked back down their line
at how the other guns fared. As far as he could see, their three light pieces
and four Narthani 12-pounders fired with only seconds passing between firings. Added
to the fire were explosive quarrels from two of the crossbow carriages. A wheel
on the third carriage broke while running over a wounded Narthani, and the
metal rim twisted and broke the bow stock.

Suddenly,
Yozef noticed that the buzzing of Narthani musket balls seemed to have
slackened, and for the first time since the initial firing of a 12-pounder, he
looked at the Narthani position. The original block was decimated. Fewer than a
hundred of the original five hundred men still stood, without a cohesive
formation—the chance survivors of dragoon muskets and the bites each round of
canister had taken from among them.

The
second block, the one that came to support the first, had been preparing a pike
charge. That plan was no longer tenable with half of their men down, most of
whom were the pike men in their front ranks who had taken the brunt of the
Keelan musket and canister fire. The remaining pike men were in no position or had
no inclination to charge and were falling back to allow their musket men a clearer
field of fire—in theory. In less than a minute, the remaining men dropped their
pikes and ran to the rear. The remnants of the first block tried to follow suit,
but the merciless Keelan fire felled all but a score before the survivors
reached the next Narthani line.

Yozef
found himself twenty yards to the left of Denes, who surveyed the scene and was
obviously trying to decide what to do next. They had captured half of the
Narthani guns, destroyed two blocks of infantry, and savaged a third block. Now
the Narthani were redeploying the center of their line, and about two hundred
yards away they faced three unscathed blocks with cannon setting up between blocks.
Until now, they had had the advantage of both surprise and numbers. No longer.
The new Narthani line facing them would outgun them with experienced artillery
and match them in muskets. Denes could see this, but Yozef was afraid their
unexpected level of success might tempt him to keep going. That they shouldn’t
do.

Yozef
ran to Denes. “Time to go, Denes!”

Denes
just looked at him.

“Time
to go,” Yozef repeated. “We accomplished all we can and need to pull back and
regroup. We can’t attack a Narthani line that’s ready for us.”

Denes
looked again at the Narthani line, then licked his lips and his eyes widened,
as he looked at the next Narthani block.

Shit!
He’s tempted to keep going!

“No,
NO!
” exclaimed Yozef. “We’re too close and in range of their canister.
They’ll rake us with massed muskets and artillery as soon as they set up, which
is going to be soon. We have to
GO!
”

This
time, there was no hesitation from Denes. He grasped what Yozef was saying and
ordered a withdrawal, taking their wounded and the guns with them. Their swivel
carriages still had the ropes used to pull them this far, and men quickly had
those three well on their way, this time avoiding the carnage of the first
Narthani block they had annihilated by heading straight for their original
position at the end of the clan alignment. The Narthani guns and limbers were
something else. Yozef yelled to forget the limbers, just get the guns. They
could always make more limbers, but the guns were priceless, because who knew
when they could cast such pieces themselves, if at all. Lacking ropes, men
pulled and pushed at the larger pieces, and some men turned the wheel spokes, a
slow process.

Yozef
filled his lungs to yell at one cluster of men to get ropes on a 12-pounder
when a carriage crosspiece shattered, sending wood fragments in all directions.
Knocked flat, Yozef stared at clouds. “Wha . . .” he croaked.

Wyfor’s
face filled Yozef’s vision. “Nothing serious. It’s just bleeding a lot. Head
wounds do that.”

“Head
wound?” Yozef asked, before realizing something warm and wet covered the right
side of his head. He sat up, dizzy, and put a hand to his ear. It came away covered
in blood. “Oh, shit.”

“Not
to worry,” a deep voice growled. Carnigan knelt next to him and wrapped a cloth
around his head. “Probably will need stitches, but it’s not deep. A cannon ball
got lucky and hit the crosspiece of the 12-pounder. Must have been from a
Narthani cannon too far away to use canister or grapeshot.”

Yozef’s
two wardens helped him to his feet. His first instinct was to sit back down, as
vertigo washed over him, then abated.

“Let’s
get him out of here,” said Wyfor. The two men supported and half-dragged him,
as they joined the retreating Keelanders who were still the target of Narthani
cannon fire. 

A
shallow depression gave temporary cover, but by the time they were again
visible, the Narthani field pieces had switched to grapeshot. The deeper drone
of two-inch iron balls passing overhead spurred them on. At another hundred yards,
one piece was hit by a ball, shattering the carriage and killing one man.
Another ball missed the gun but tore through three men on one side of the
carriage. Other men immediately replaced the dead, and the gun hardly slowed.

By
now, Luwis had had horses brought up. Every rider carried a length of rope, and
all artillery pieces were pulled by several horses. In many cases, no attempt
was made to roll the carriage. Ropes were tied to barrels, and the cannon
dragged along the ground.

At
900 yards, the Narthani switched to solid shot. One last carriage was destroyed
and five more men wounded before all firing ceased at 1,200 yards. When they
reached their original encampment, Denes and the medicants made a fast count of
his men. Of the original 480, 406 men had survived, including 92 wounded. They
had 74 known dead lying somewhere on the battlefield. Of the 80 men in the
artillery group, they had 17 dead and 12 wounded. The mounted clansmen would
take another two hours to be accounted for, but the clans’ total losses were
mild compared to their enemy’s.

Besides
the decimated Eywellese, an estimated 1,000 Narthani infantry and artillerymen
were killed or critically wounded. The clansmen had captured seventeen 12-pounder
field cannon and picked up hundreds of muskets, pistols, and swords from dead
Narthani and Eywellese. By any rational measure, it had been a smashing
victory, though of little consolation to families of the dead.

Zulfa
left the command platform for his horse, to allow more mobility. Firing had
died to an occasional musket shot, likely from someone either firing out of
range, due to frustration, or accidental discharge. With the cessation of
firing, the powder smoke cleared, and only a smattering of smoldering grass
generated scattered risings of smoke. These, along with a slight increase in
wind, cleared the battlefield to give Zulfa visibility to survey the carnage on
two fronts. The remnants of the Moreland charge still lay to the east, where
they had fallen two hours earlier. Cries of wounded horses and men could still be
heard. The scene would have been satisfying to Aivacs Zulfa, if it were not for
the equally grim visage to the south where the Narthani right had been.

Gone
were the screening Eywellese cavalry, the anchoring infantry block, the western
artillery redoubt, and one other block. Another block had been so depleted the
men were distributed to other units. His forward-facing deployment toward the
Caedelli horse army had contracted to a rough square with infantry blocks and
the remaining artillery on two sides, the east ridgeline shielding a third
side, and all of the remaining cavalry guarding the fourth and western side. The
area where his right wing had been was now dotted with the bodies of his
infantry and artillerymen. Aides estimated he had lost a thousand dead, plus two
hundred wounded. The disparity between dead and wounded was testament to how
quickly the islanders overran his men and finished the wounded before they
withdrew.

A
Caedelli rider carrying a white flag rode halfway between their positions, likely
to request a ceasefire long enough to recover the wounded. Zulfa didn’t
respond. He might have his own wounded who could be saved, but from the appearance
of the battlefield, there were more Caedellium wounded that Narthani, so he saw
no reason to agree to a ceasefire benefiting the enemy more than his army. If
several hundred islanders died of wounds, it was a justified tradeoff for a few
score Narthani.

The
last action had ceased more than an hour ago. He had waited to see whether the
islanders had any further action in mind this day. The evidence and his
intuition said no. The fighting evidently being over for today, he could no
longer put off the bad taste in his mouth. The clever plan to deal a crushing
blow to the Caedellium clans and hasten the island’s subjugation lay in
tatters.

Their
success in trapping the central clan charge in no manner compensated for the
collapse of their right wing. He had lost almost a fifth of his Narthani infantry,
most of the Eywell auxiliary light cavalry, and as much as half of his
artillery. With seven intact infantry blocks, the Narthani heavy cavalry,
thirty cannon, and the Selfcellese horsemen, he was confident they could repel
any Caedellium direct attack in the open field, but not as supremely confident
as previously. Something new had been added that their assessment of the clans
hadn’t accounted for. The islander horse charge had cost the clans dearly but
had focused the Narthani attention to their front so much, they hadn’t
recognized the danger to their flank until too late. It wasn’t that Zulfa was appalled
by the willingness to sacrifice so many men as a diversion; he would have done
the same under the circumstances. It was the unanticipated willingness of the
Caedelli to make that sacrifice, in addition to the coordination needed for
their flank attack.

Zulfa
listened to updates from his staff and weighed their next move. He saw little
choice.

“We’ll
withdraw back to Preddi Province,” he announced. A few of his staff appeared
shocked to hear they would retreat from the islanders, though most understood
the necessity. A hundred and fifty miles separated them from the Preddi border.
They had suffered serious losses, including half of their cavalry screen, and
would be outnumbered by a more mobile enemy showing unexpected tactical sense.
Galling though it might feel, they needed to retreat to a more defendable
position.