Warrior king, p.29
Warrior King, page 29
* * *
Charlaine risked a glance over her shoulder. The Temple Knights of Saint Cunar were gradually falling behind but kept their pace steady. She held no doubt that the grey-clad knights would pursue them for as long as possible; she only hoped the ford proved a defensible enough position.
Temple Captain Nicola fell back to her general’s position, noting her gaze. “They’re determined. I’ll give them that.”
“And so you should,” replied Charlaine. “I only wish we could’ve done more damage. As it stands, we’ve done little more than slap them in the face.”
“True, but our objective was to pull them away from the king, and we’ve managed to draw their full attention. It’s odd, when you think about it.”
“What is?”
“This entire situation. We quite literally came to blows with those Cunars, yet here they are, trailing along behind as if following us on a parade.”
“What else would you expect them to do? It’s not as if they can catch us; their horses are no better than ours.”
“True,” said Nicola, “but we must camp at some point.”
“So must they, eventually.”
“You intend to lose them in the dark, don’t you?”
“What makes you think that’s my strategy?”
“You have a devious mind, General, although I’m not certain it’ll work to our advantage in this instance.”
“Why?”
“Because the only way out of here is across the ford, a ford, I might add, that they are likely already familiar with.”
“If what you say is true,” said Charlaine, “then losing them in the dark wouldn’t make any difference.”
Nicola regarded her commanding officer. “I know that look; you’re up to something. What is it?”
“We’ll keep the column moving, just as you said.”
“And once it’s dark?”
“We’ll deploy a light rearguard to watch the enemy while the rest get some sleep.”
“You want them to continue following us, even though they outnumber us?”
“That’s the point, isn’t it? We want to draw them to the ford.”
“So the Elves can slaughter them.”
“I doubt it would be a slaughter, although it would likely slow them down a little.”
“Then we could hit them from the south, while they’re reforming on the other side of the river,” said Nicola.
“Yes, though we must be careful to time the strike carefully. If we let too many across that river, their numbers may overwhelm us.”
“We’d still need to fight them, eventually.”
“Would we?” Charlaine whistled, causing the Elf, Theran Silverhand, to turn in his saddle towards them. “You called, General?”
“Inform the good Temple Captain here of what you told me earlier.”
The mage slowed his horse until they caught up, then moved alongside the duo. “I received a message from Karalindel, the Earth Mage accompanying King Ludwig.”
“And?”
“He has sent his general, Sigwulf, to attack the rear of the Cunars with all his cavalry.”
“They’ll be ill-matched.”
“Which is why we must tempt them towards the ford.”
“And when is this attack to commence?”
“That depends on what the enemy does,” replied Charlaine. “It’s another ten miles to the ford. Ideally, I’d like to arrive early tomorrow morning.”
“Couldn’t we push on through the night?”
“We could,” said Charlaine, “but then we risk them turning around to deal with the king’s cavalry. We need them to be preoccupied with chasing us, remember?”
* * *
Sigwulf sat in the dark. He’d ordered his reduced command to make camp without fires so as not to give the enemy any sign of their presence. So far, their strategy had worked, for a Cunar rearguard hadn’t made themselves known. Off in the distance, the glow of campfires marked the enemy’s position.
He’d considered a nighttime attack, but as much as the dark would help hide their approach, it made the attack itself more difficult. Without light to guide them, the uneven ground could cause a horse to stumble or his own men to lose their way when withdrawing from the enemy camp.
Far better, he’d thought, to continue with the plan of following along out of sight, until the Cunars broke ranks to cross the ford. And that was the moment they’d strike, when the enemy least expected it.
His thoughts turned to Ludwig. If the Cunars turned around to face Sig and his men, the knights would soon overwhelm them. He wondered how far behind him the rest of the army was, but he had no way of knowing. Instead, he must have faith the men of Hadenfeld would be there when needed.
* * *
“We must make camp, sire,” said Gustavo. “Stumbling around in the dark does us no good.”
“Yes, of course,” replied the king. “Please convey my thanks to everyone and tell them we made excellent progress today.”
The captain left, issuing orders to those within earshot, leaving Ludwig to his thoughts. They’d cleared the Bloodwood and were now north of the Zowen River, so close that if one listened carefully, they’d hear running water.
“I hope we do not run into more fog tomorrow,” came the Elf’s melodic tones. “That would greatly hamper my efforts to spy out the enemy.”
“It would be helpful to know where they are at this moment,” said Ludwig. “I don’t suppose you could summon an owl?”
“I am a master of Earth Magic, not an Air Mage.”
“You summoned a falcon.”
“I can well understand your confusion,” replied Karalindel. “I did not summon those creatures from thin air. They are friends of mine whom I have established a particular affinity with.”
“Then where did they come from?”
“The Goldenwood. You failed to notice them following us. I find that Humans often lack the ability to absorb the majesty of their surroundings, particularly where the natural world is involved.”
“As an Earth Mage, you must have many spells upon which you can draw.”
“And you wish to know how they might help you in battle tomorrow?”
“Precisely.”
“That depends on what you are looking for. My magic is not capable of inflicting significant damage on armies, although it is able to deal with individuals, but that is perhaps not the best use of it. By the same token, I could summon creatures to aid us, but I doubt they would be very effective against heavily armoured Temple Knights.”
“I was thinking more along the lines of the terrain,” said Ludwig.
“Broken ground comes to mind. The spell makes the ground uneven, very useful in preventing cavalry charges, but that would also affect your own horsemen, so perhaps not. How about a defensive mound?”
“I assume that creates some sort of hill?”
“It does,” replied the Elf, “but I would need to cast it multiple times to provide enough benefit to your entire army. I could increase the effectiveness of some of your men’s armour.”
“How many could you affect?”
“One or two companies at most, and even then, the effect is relatively mild; it does not make your men impervious to weapons.”
“I knew an Earth Mage some years ago,” said Ludwig. “He was able to manipulate earth and stone.”
“As can I, though there is little need for it these days. What is it you have in mind?”
“I’d like to be able to cross the river.”
“We are some miles from the ford, with an army blocking our way.”
“Could we not create a ford of our own?”
“I am not a Water Mage,” replied Karalindel. “I am unable to reduce the water level.”
“Ah, but could you not raise the riverbed to make the water shallower?”
The Elf stared back, her head tilted to one side. “I must congratulate you, Majesty. That thought never crossed my mind. All I would need to do is create a defensive mound in the middle of the river.”
“And you can do that?”
“Most certainly, although I must warn you, the water has to go somewhere, and would presumably flood around the hill to whichever side of the river is lower.”
“But you control the size of this mound, yes?”
“Of course.”
“Then I propose you raise the ground just enough to make a shallow crossing.”
“That would require a great deal of concentration.”
“But you could do it?” asked Ludwig.
“I believe so,” she replied.
“And how long does it take to cast a spell of that nature?”
“Not long at all, providing I have a clear view of the area in question.”
“We’re well clear of the Bloodwood. I should think it would be easy to see the river.”
“It appears I did not explain the nature of the spell in a clear and concise manner. To raise the ground, I must be able to see the ground I am affecting, which means I need to see the riverbed. That should not pose a problem come morning, providing we do not suffer another fog.”
“How long would this ford of yours last?”
“I am not sure I understand the question.”
“My impression of magic,” said Ludwig, “is that the effects only last for a brief time.”
“Your impression is false,” replied Karalindel. “Well, not entirely false. Many spells are limited in such a manner, but with the manipulation of earth or stone, the effects are permanent.”
“So the enemy could also use the ford you created?”
“Yes, although I could always reverse the spell and be rid of the effects. That, however, requires recasting, which would drain me of more of my magical power. Have you a particular section of the river in mind?”
“Not at present, but I like to know what’s at my disposal when going into battle.”
“You are, I assume, familiar with the limitations of magic?”
“Only those you mentioned earlier. Why? Is there something else I should be made aware of?”
“Most definitely,” replied the Elf. “Are you familiar with how magic works?”
“From what I’ve been told, it’s in the blood. I’ve seen healing at work, and when I was in the north, I watched an Earth Mage manipulate stone, but for the life of me, I couldn’t explain how it works.”
“Mages draw their power from within, a reserve, if you like, of magical energy waiting to be utilized. The greater the reserves a caster has, the more spells they can cast in a given period.”
“Are you suggesting this energy gets used up?”
“Only temporarily. It builds back up, but it places a limit on how much casting a particular mage is capable of.”
“And have you a large reserve of this magical energy?”
“Relative to my colleagues, reasonably so, although I am by no means the most powerful caster in the Goldenwood.”
“Then I count it good fortune you agreed to accompany us.”
29
Battle
Autumn 1107 SR
Ludwig ordered his men into a line and pressed forward, spears out, the archers following, ready to loose arrows over the heads of those in front should the opportunity present itself. They’d likely do minimal damage against the heavily armoured Cunars, but the action served to give his command hope. The grand melee drew closer, the Mathewites being pushed back towards him. Soon they’d break, and then the grey-clad Temple Knights would be upon the warriors of Hadenfeld.
Ludwig called a halt, ordering his foot to plant their spears in the ground so as to present a wall of steel. The brown-clad Mathewites, no longer able to hold their line, retreated south, and then the sea of grey rolled forward like a wall of death.
A horn sounded to the south, faint, but there was no mistaking it. He was about to risk a glance in that direction, but then the Cunars struck, charging forward, attempting to break the wall of spears. The knights were determined to penetrate the formation, but their horses veered away from the possibility of impalement.
Ludwig had anchored his left flank on the river, his men stretching out in a line heading due south. His spears would hold, of that he had no doubt, but the Cunars were pushing back Charlaine’s knights, jeopardizing his right flank.
Another horn sounded, this time much higher in tone and coming from the north. He feared it might be the Army of Zowenbruch, but then spotted the Elves of Nethendril across the river, advancing towards the ford.
The Cunars must have noticed them as well, for their fighting reached a fevered pitch as they pushed south with renewed energy, desperate to break the Agnesites before the Elves arrived.
Ludwig ordered his men to advance three paces. They carried out the manoeuvre with great precision, then planted their spears again, ready to ward off the Temple Knights, but the enemy’s attention remained riveted on defeating their nemesis—the scarlet-clad sister of Saint Agnes.
He repeated his order again and again, slowly pushing further towards the Cunars’ rear.
Charlaine’s knights started to falter. They were outmatched and outnumbered, with the initiates of Saint Cunar having joined the fight, seeking out those of her fellow sisters who’d been unhorsed.
A horn sounded from behind her, and hope rose in her heart as the green-clad warriors of Cyn’s division surged through her knights, a wall of spear tips driving the enemy back. With their right flank protected by the forest and their left by Cyn’s cavalry, the general’s late arrival had given the Agnesites a fighting chance.
Ludwig watched as an arrow sank into the back of a Cunar. The fellow twisted in the saddle to locate his attacker, but then toppled to the ground.
More arrows flew from across the river as Elven archers lined the riverbank, and the enemy began to falter. The densely packed ranks of the Elven foot were crossing the ford, their silver scale armour glinting in the sun.
Ludwig held his breath. The Temple Knights of Saint Cunar were surrounded on all sides; would they fight to the death, as they’d done at the Battle of the Wilderness, or had that loss taught them a lesson in humility?
The Cunars disengaged, backing up to form a square, and an eerie quiet fell over the battlefield, broken only by the moans of the injured and dying. It was as if some great power had placed a gigantic hand between the two sides and swept them apart from each other, leaving a blood-soaked gap, littered with the bodies of men, women, and horses, a scene worthy of the Underworld.
A grey-clad knight stepped out from the enemy, his sword sheathed. He halted five paces short of Ludwig’s men and removed his helmet. Temple Commander Amarand stood there, covered in sweat, his hair plastered to his face, dents and scratches marring his plate armour. His breath came in gasps, looking as though he might collapse, but then he straightened himself.
“I would parley,” he called out.
Ludwig dismounted, pushing his way past his men to stand before the Cunar commander.
“Majesty,” said Amarand. “Your men fought most valiantly. I yield the battlefield to you.”
“It is not to me you must surrender,” replied Ludwig.
“I am not proposing that I surrender, merely that we vacate the field of battle.”
“You seem to be under the impression that you have a choice. You are surrounded, Temple Commander. The Elves block your only escape, and we have fresh troops to the south and west. Unless you intended to try to escape through the forest? If so, I should warn you, there are plenty more Elves there to block your way.”
“You fail to take into account the might of my Temple Knights,” replied Amarand. “They are the finest warriors on the entire Continent.”
“No longer. Your defeat at the Battle of the Wilderness robbed you of your best men. Now you stand here, surrounded by enemies, a shadow of your former strength.”
“We are not afraid to die.”
“To die without reason is the height of folly. Your order has already been weakened by its crusade in the east; would you now make it even more so by needlessly sacrificing those under your command?”
Amarand cast his gaze about, quickly coming to the realization that they were severely outnumbered with no avenue of escape. He stared at the ground a moment, perhaps collecting his thoughts, then lifted his head to meet Ludwig’s gaze. “To preserve what’s left of the Temple Knights of Saint Cunar, we surrender.”
“As I said, it is not to me you must surrender.”
“Then to whom?”
Ludwig pointed to his right, where Charlaine was riding towards them, threading her way through the gap between the two armies.
Anger darkened the Temple Commander’s face, and Ludwig feared that he’d pushed the man too far, but then Amarand drew his sword and offered it, hilt first, towards the Temple General.
“What is this?” asked Charlaine.
“He offered his surrender,” replied Ludwig, “but I insisted he must do so to you, for your Temple Knights bore the brunt of the fighting.”
“What are your terms?” asked Amarand.
Charlaine took the sword. “Your men must surrender their arms and mounts.”
“And their lives?”
“That is up to His Majesty, the king, for we stand upon his lands, not mine.”
“You fought an unjust war,” stated Ludwig. “A war that should never have occurred in the first place, and why? Because we dared to refuse you a commandery?”
“My superiors wanted you broken, a demonstration of the Church’s power. Instead, you’ve broken us.”
“You did that yourself,” said Charlaine, “when your Primus disbanded the orders.”
“I shall not debate your words, Temple General. You bested us when you fled the Antonine, and have proven the strength of your convictions by defeating us yet again. The Saints look upon you with favour.”
“I am a devoted follower of Mathew,” said Ludwig, “but too many men and women died today because of your Church’s twisted beliefs in its own supremacy. What would the Saints say if they witnessed such greed and arrogance amongst those who would use their teachings to their own advantage?”
