Cyador’s Heirs (64 page)

There are few woodland sounds, except for the traitor birds, several of whom apparently are taking delight in flying around the loggers in the woods, alighting on branches and offering their irritatingly cheerful and loud chirps. Only one of the traitor birds come near enough to Lerial so that he can see its yellow-banded black wings, but the calls that sound like
twirrpp
are identification enough.

Lerial senses someone approaching from behind, and he turns to see Altyrn walking toward him.

“Two glasses,” says Lerial. “You were right. The shieldmen are half a kay down the road, and they’ve got ten small to moderate tree trunks cut and ready to go.”

Altyrn nods. “They’ll bring up the shieldmen to give cover to the men who will carry the trunks toward the stream. Your Lancers and archers are not to fire at them. First company will. Unless something changes, you’re to target the main body, but not until they attack and I give you the order.”

“Yes, ser.”

Once the majer leaves, Lerial turns and tells Korlyn, “I need to talk to the head archer. I’ll be back in a few moments.” Keeping his head low, Lerial hurries northward along the trench until he reaches fourth squad, about thirty yards north of where the bridge had been.

“Squad Leader! Head Archer!” Lerial waits for Moraris and Alaynara to join him, then relays the majer’s instructions.

“The main body is out of range,” Moraris points out.

“That’s right,” says Lerial. “If all of second company looses shafts at a handful of men, what will we have left when two thousand of them storm down the road? The Lancers can use their blades on the handful that might get across the stream now.”

“Oh … yes, sir.”

Alaynara nods. “We’ll wait for your order to shoot.”

Lerial then hurries to Fhentaar, and then back to Bhurl and Korlyn to relay the majer’s orders.

Almost another half glass passes before a horn sounds and the shieldmen start forward, advancing until they reach a position just east of where the shaped trunks lie. They halt and raise their shields. Lerial can sense other armsmen coming forward and picking up the first two trunks, more than a half score to each. Even with that many men, the trees have to be pines of some sort. Oak or lorken would be far too heavy.

Once the two teams are in position behind the shieldmen, the shieldwall begins to advance toward the stream, steadily and stolidly. The main Meroweyan force has now moved up, but has halted on the road behind the point where the tree trunks lie, clearly waiting to see if the shieldwall and the armsmen lugging the trunks can create their own bridge.

Before long, the shieldwall closes on the western bank of the stream, less than fifty yards from the bridge abutment, when it edges toward the upstream side of the bridge foundations, and more toward second company, apparently trying to position the armsmen with the trunks so that the logs will be anchored not only into the earth of the stream banks but rest against the foundation on one side.

First company’s archers do not even begin to release shafts until the first shieldmen are no more than a score of yards from the bridge abutments—except Lerial suddenly realizes that the shafts are not arrows but javelins hurled from spear-throwers with surprising force, enough in one case for the javelin to go through the upper part of a shield and into the chest of the shieldman. More than a few shieldmen go down, and the shieldwall slows almost to a halt before others step forward, and even more slowly, the shields advance, then stop a good five yards back from the abutments. Those shieldmen in the center swing out, opening the way for those carrying the tree trunk.

The armsmen carrying the first trunk charge full speed toward the stream, but a hail of mixed javelins and arrows takes down enough of them that they lose control of the log and it slips away and skids partway down the bank before burying itself in the softer earth just above the water. Lerial can see that the end of the tree trunk has been hewn into a rough point, and that means that the rankers intend to drive each of the trunks into the eastern riverbank, but he cannot see at first how they had planned to get it over the water—until he realizes that the armsmen at the front were trying to plant the point while those behind, with the help of the ropes tied to the far end would heave it upright and then let it fall forward onto the eastern stream bank. The simplicity of it strikes Lerial, but he also realizes that simplicity rests on the ability to lose armsmen in the process.

Then a second group of armsmen charge forward with their trunk. Although several fall to javelins and arrows, with great effort the end of the log goes up and slowly reaches a point straight up, and then drops, almost not moving, before speeding up enough that the end that had been at the rear comes down with a thump on the eastern bank, perhaps half a yard above the water and a yard and a half back from the edge of the stream proper. The trunk is angled slightly, but not much.

In the meantime, the shieldwall closes behind the Meroweyan armsmen who have carried the logs and survived, but does not withdraw. Behind it, Lerial can see and sense two more groups of armsmen coming forward. He looks at the single long trunk spanning the stream and wonders why Altyrn has not sent anyone to dislodge it, before realizing that if it took more than ten men to carry and raise the trunk, the majer isn’t about to risk the number of rankers it would take to move the trunk—if it even could be moved, buried as it is the soft earth of the riverbank.

Although another shieldman falls to a javelin, and two Meroweyan armsmen go down, the third group of armsmen manages to raise the end of the third tree trunk into the air, but it tilts and comes down—hard—on the bridge abutment in front of the trenches of first company, bounces, the end splintering somewhat before it half rolls, half slides, off the abutment and into the stream, where it lies wedged at an angle between the western bank and the stone abutment, where the splintered end is several handspans underwater.

“Captain!” comes a call.

Lerial turns. Altyrn is practically beside him in the trench.

“Pull out second company. Mount up and head north along the east bank. There are at least five companies coming from the north. They must have crossed more than five kays upstream.”

That means he had scouts out that far.
“You want second company to move north and stop them?”

“You most likely can’t stop them. Do your best to slow them and make them take casualties. The elders are here. They may be able to help with the storm.”

Help with the storm?
Lerial nods, recalling the rains that had slowed the efforts of the Meroweyan wizards in burning through the edge of the Verd.

“Try not to lose to lose too many rankers. Oh … and stay a good two yard from the water.”

“Yes, ser.”

Altyrn gives a brisk nod and heads up the trench in the direction of fifth company. Lerial turns to Korlyn. “You heard the majer. Pull your squad back to the horses and mount up. Send a ranker to pass the order to the other three squads.”

“Yes, ser.”

As Korlyn turns to pass the orders, Lerial looks back to the stream and is dismayed to see that the Meroweyans have managed to position another trunk across the river, but, thankfully, it is a good yard away from the first one.
Still … if they keep doing it, they’ll eventually have a bridge of sorts.
He looks up to see that in the narrow clear space directly above him and the river, the clouds have thickened so that he can see almost no patches of clear green blue. Yet he has no sense of additional order or chaos moving in the clouds, only that the patterns of order and chaos that are always within rainstorms are, somehow, more deliberate.
Trying to figure that out or learn how they do that will have to wait.

Once he is sure that all his squads are complying with the orders and some of fifth company is moving down into the trench area held by second company, Lerial hurries back to where the gelding is tied and mounts up. Then he leads the company through the woods to the north, not coming out onto the clearer area just above the bank until they are a third of a kay north of fifth company. There is no sense in letting the Meroweyans know that the defenses have been weakened. This way, they may just believe that Altyrn has shifted his troopers. Although Lerial can sense the main body of the attackers is still facing Altyrn, that body definitely feels smaller to Lerial’s senses, considerably smaller, than it did days earlier, suggesting that the Meroweyans are not only attacking from the north, but also from the south. Lerial just hopes that a great number of those in the south are having difficulty with the ford trap set by Altyrn.

At the rumble of thunder, Lerial glances up, then tries to sense what may be different about the clouds, but can only feel what he might call smoothness in places.
Technique—technique so good that it goes almost unnoticed.

While he can sense the Meroweyans ahead, he does not call a halt for another half glass, until the attackers are less than a kay ahead. “Second company! Halt!”

“Squad, halt!”

“Squad leaders! Forward!”

Once the four are gathered around him on their mounts, he explains, “Our orders are to slow the Meroweyans. They’ll be here shortly. Here’s what we’ll do. First squad will be forward, on foot with bows. The formation will be two lines, staggered, so that each ranker will have a view of the enemy. Behind them will be second squad. Fourth squad will be third, and third squad last. All squads will be on foot when they’re in the front rank. To begin with, first squad and second squad will be on foot.” Lerial has learned that being on foot allows greater range and accuracy for an archer, and he wants the greatest accuracy possible. “Fourth squad will hold first squad’s mounts, and third squad will hold second squad’s mounts.” Lerial again looks to Korlyn. “When I give the order, you’re to shoot for the men behind the leading armsmen. Shoot deliberately, but quickly. Korlyn, let me know when your men are down to one shaft. Have them each save one shaft. Is that clear?”

“Yes, ser.”

“Then you’ll withdraw to the rear and mount up, and then each man will take one or two, as necessary, of fourth squad’s mounts and take a position behind third squad. Second squad will shoot down to one arrow per man, and then withdraw and hold third squad’s mounts.…” When Lerial finishes, he asks. “Are there any questions?”

“Ser … ah … what do we do after third squad withdraws?”

“We withdraw back downstream and take up a position on the flank of fifth company. That’s unless the majer has other orders for us by then. Any other questions?”

“No, ser.”

“Then go form up.”

Lerial watches as they do, hoping this plan will work better than the last one he designed by himself. Then he rides up and stations himself just at the edge of the trees, even with the front line of first squad.

After a short time, Korlyn calls out to Lerial, “Ser … the ground’s too soft on the lower slope closer.”

“What about a five-man front near the top of the bank?”

“I’d say that would be better, ser.”

“Go to a five-man front … and pass it back to second squad.”

“Yes, ser!”

It seems like more than a glass has passed before the Meroweyans come into view, but it is likely only about a third of a glass. While the sky continues to darken, there is no sign of rain. Lerial estimates that there are probably five companies in all, as Altyrn has said, and they extend back close to a hundred yards. Once again, they advance with foot-bearing shields, but these armsmen carry smaller round shields on their left arms and blades that look somewhat longer than sabres.

Shields and blades make sense with the softer and uneven ground.
It also may be that they only have so many troopers with heavy shields. In addition, he can sense the faint chaos mist.

Lerial continues to watch as the Meroweyan foot move forward at a measured pace. He is trying to judge at what distance he should have first squad open fire and wonders when the white wizard will loose a fireball. From what he can tell, there is likely only one with the approaching force, but he has been wrong before in judging what he has faced.

At a hundred and fifty yards, Lerial orders, “First squad! Ready bows! Stand by to fire.”

“First squad, standing by,” replies Korlyn.

With just under a hundred yards between the forces, the Meroweyans break into a trot or lope toward the outnumbered first squad.

“First squad! Fire! Fire at will!”

In moments, several of the attackers are staggering or down under the continuing assault of war arrows. At least one has tripped on a sawed-off stump or the like, and the attack is slowing, if only slightly.

“First squad, ready to withdraw.”

Meaning that they’re out of shafts.
“First squad, withdraw! On the double!”

Lerial turns the gelding and rides back toward second squad. “Second squad! Fire at will!” He reins up, looking beyond the first lines to the rear of the oncoming force. He can sense the chaos mist, but there is still no sign of a firebolt.

The Meroweyans keep coming, and the gap between the forces is more like sixty yards, although Lerial can see and sense that the war arrows, fired at such comparatively close range are taking a toll, despite the attackers’ shields, which are deflecting many of the Verdyn shafts.

All too soon, Lerial orders, “Second squad! Withdraw! Double time!”

He barely waits until the last second squad ranker has slipped past the fourth squad archers before ordering, “Fourth squad! Fire at will!”

The greater number of archers in fourth squad, and the speed with which they release their shafts, slows the Meroweyans, but the attackers are far too close, and Lerial wishes he had ordered first squad to begin shooting far earlier.

Again, he wonders why the Meroweyan wizard has not thrown a single firebolt.
Because he’s been told to let the troopers do what they can? Because they’ve lost too many wizards?
Still, he’s definitely glad that he hasn’t had to deflect any firebolts.