Kingmaker (37 page)

Ellie wasn't sure the Earth she'd grown up on was better than Arnold's, but it did have a lot of positives. She hoped she'd be able to find some compromise, some way of avoiding the worst of both. She knew that was what her parents would have demanded.

"Okay. So, do you have anything else to eat or did you finish it all before I got here?"

It took them five days to travel the forty miles to the spot Ellie had picked on the map. Or rather, what would have been forty miles if it had been on the main road. In all, their army marched closer to sixty miles, mostly through muck and mud.

They set up camp in the fields of a local baron—a baron who had seen their army appear at the front door of his chateau and quickly vanished out the back door.

Arnold's cavalry gave half-hearted chase but let him get away. They
wanted
word to get back to Sergius, after all. He couldn't exactly march against them if he didn't know they were there.

Ellie put her ninja to work on something a little more practical. The road between Dinan and Moray was Sergius's major supply route. Which had to mean caravans, money and weapons.

She sent Lart raiding toward Dinan.

He returned the next day with fifty wagons filled with food, bayonets, and gold, an entire Rissel caravan that wouldn't be reinforcing Sergius in Moray.

If there was a little less gold than the invoices indicated there should be, Ellie didn't push the matter. Fewer than twenty percent of Lart's original band had survived the past year's continual war against both Rissel and Sergius. She didn't begrudge him a bit of larceny—as long as he shared with his troops and the money came from the Rissel rather than from local peasants.

They added the wagons to their own supply line, sending them back to Varna for more supplies.

After that, Dinan shut its gates and didn't even let its garrison patrol outside the city.

The Dukedom of Sullivan, though, was another matter.

Sergius might be huddled in his capital, but the Duke of Sullivan demonstrated he'd learned plenty from his harsh guerilla lesson in the snows that winter. He set up a series of strongpoints around his province, manned each with enough soldiers to hold out against all but a full attack by Arnold's entire army and equipped them each with a mage to communicate back to Sullivan City where the Duke kept his main forces.

He used the outposts as anchor points for his heavy cavalry and hired bandits as scouts to make sure his cavalry didn't run into ambushes. After the first time, anyway. The man was no fool and fighting peasant armies was something this society had experience with.

Mark ignored the frustrations, set the army to picking off villages and fortified manors near Moray, and engaging in occasional full-force raids into Dinan and Sullivan territories.

Like Dinan, Sergius sat tight, convinced he could outwait them.

Unfortunately, he was right.

"We've got to do something.” Arnold held up a chart showing their recruiting numbers. They had plenty of peasants showing up—enough to double the army's size if they had weapons and time to train them. But they didn't have enough muskets to arm even a fraction of them, let alone rifles. Ninja training took way too long. And arming peasants with farm implements would only get them killed if they sent peasants against a real army.

The more fundamental problem wasn't the peasants: it was the nobility. After Sullivan had shown the Free Army could be stopped, aristocrats had simply stopped coming in. Sergius wasn't getting many in Moray, either, but Sullivan was recruiting heavily. His heavy cavalry had become the glamour unit to join.

"Can we pit Sullivan and Sergius against each other?” Ellie wondered. “Sergius has to be suspicious that Sullivan may try a coup."

Mark shook his head. “They're both scared. They'll squabble over the pieces once we've been defeated, but they don't dare fight until then."

"Sullivan's bandits nearly captured our supply caravan three days ago,” Arnold reminded them, as if they needed reminding. Only a timely warning by the local mage and some hard riding by Ellie and her ninja, along with Mark's new rifle dragoons had turned disaster into a minor victory. “We're in trouble."

One of Arnold's knights put it in a nutshell. “We tried your plan, General Mark, but Sergius has been too cowardly to attack, even against this rump of an army. So, we need to take the fight to him. Once we've got Moray under siege, he'll have to come out."

"If we retreat from here, a lot of people are going to be pretty disappointed,” Ellie said. “And hurt. A number of the local towns have thrown in with us."

"We'd evacuate anyone who needed protection first.” Arnold was stuck with the nobility thing.

"Which would let Sergius know exactly what our plans are,” Lart observed. “That would be suicide."

Ellie's brain went into overtime. “Lart is right. If Sergius thought we were giving up, that we'd panicked and were trying to get back together with the rest of our army, he would be compelled to attack. The nobles wouldn't stand for it if they thought he was going to let us escape. We've burned enough manor houses to make sure they're good and steamed.

"You're thinking a trap, but he wouldn't fall for it,” Mark said. “Sergius is smart enough, and worked with real soldiers for long enough, and knows our mind and strategies well enough, to be suspicious of a trap. After all, that's how we beat Sullivan for him. There's no way he would think we're running. And he has enough mages and probably enough spies to confirm his instincts."

"Unless we really were running,” Ellie concluded.

"Yeah. But why would we. We've never been defeated."

She felt like one of her father's senior blackbelts had sucker-punched her in the gut. Mark was right, but the consequences of that were horrible. “It sounds like we've got to let one of them defeat us. Who's the lucky someone who has to lose a battle? And who's going to beat them?"

She didn't like the way all of their eyes turned to her.

Ellie's ninja army raided deep into Sullivan territory. They'd burned six manor houses, overrun one of Sullivan's fortified strongpoints in a classic midnight ninja assault, looted a tax caravan, and sent enough food and gunpowder back to Arnold to feed their army for a week.

But they'd stayed too long. Sullivan's heavy cavalry had caught them in the open before they could rejoin the main force. She'd trained her ninja in stealth and guerilla tactics. A standup fight against heavily armed regular troops and nobility was certain death.

Lart spurred his horse up a small hillock and peered northward. “We're still at least an hour from the forest."

It might as well have been a year. They'd used every trick in the guerilla book to stay ahead of Sullivan's army this long—ambushes, caltrops in the roads, poisoned wine barrels, magic, but they'd run out of tricks about two hours before they'd run out of daylight. Sullivan's knights were only ten minutes behind them.

The defensive situation was nearly hopeless but at least they were at the top of a low ridge. It wasn't going to get any better than this. “Form up the wagons as a palisade,” Ellie ordered. “We have to make a stand here."

Lart glared at her. “Should we send the supplies and cannon ahead? Some of them might make it."

She considered. They'd captured enough cannon to give Arnold minimal siege capability. With it, he could make a serious demonstration against Dinan from this direction. Combined with the rest of his army in the north, they might be able to make a siege work.

But it wouldn't work. Sullivan's cavalry was too close. They'd simply go around the ninja, chase down the cannon and then return to deal with the infantry.

"See if you can get some of the lighter stuff mounted where it can be effective. Otherwise, tell the ninja that nobody's allowed to die until they've killed at least three of the enemy."

Lart nodded abruptly and left. She didn't think they'd have time to pull any of the cannon off their wagons, mount them in some sort of carriage, and use them in the fight but it was better to give them something to do rather than simply watch Sullivan's army draw closer.

She joined the group laying out caltrops.

Fortunately, they carried thousands of those medieval versions of land mines—sharp pointed objects designed to have one end pointing up no matter how they fell. A caltrop could lame a man—or a horse—in an instant and kill someone who fell on them. More importantly, they would break an organized charge. Since the ninja only had a few pikes, they needed every advantage they could get. Without the caltrops, the heavy cavalry would ride right over them.

She checked the sun again. It seemed stuck too high in the sky. Already, she could feel the ground vibrate from hundreds of horses heading toward her.

"Put caltrops behind the palisade too,” Ellie commanded. “If we have to run, I want to run somewhere where they have to be careful."

She was back at her improvised command post when Sullivan's army closed within a half mile of what was rapidly becoming a respectable fortification. A group of ninja had broken up a couple of the wagons and produced staves to sharpen, dig into the ground and point at Sullivan's cavalry. Others had dug pits and covered them with twigs.

"If we have to run, abandon everything, but keep yourself alive,” Ellie shouted. “Anyone who runs without my signal will be killed.” Her ninja were reliable, but they hadn't faced this kind of fight before. They had to be as frightened as she was.

She had Micael raise the parlay flag and rode out when Sullivan and some of his advisors took their own parlay flag and stepped in front of their army.

Now, if she could only get them talking for a couple of hours...

"Trust a woman to make a stupid mistake.” Sullivan apparently didn't believe in diplomacy.

Ellie ignored the insult. Superior force gave Sullivan the right to say whatever he wanted. “What will you take to give us safe passage out of your Dukedom?"

He laughed. “I thought you came out here to surrender, not to swap jokes. I've got you trapped in the open. Why should I let you go?"

"Because we'll kill so many of you that you won't have an effective force afterwards,” Ellie answered. “Then Sergius would just ignore your advice and eventually find a way to steal your property. It didn't take him long to turn on Ranolf, did it? How about we return the cannon and, uh, half the supplies we captured."

Sullivan looked like he was considering, but he finally shook his head. “Surrender and depend on the king's mercy. That's my best offer."

"We let your garrisons have safe passage."

"Your stupidity doesn't obligate me."

"But—"

"You think I'm blind to what you're doing? You're intentionally wasting my time.” He spurred his horse back to his line of cavalry.

Ellie checked the sun again. Wasting Sullivan's time had very much been the intent of the parlay. Once full darkness fell, her ninja could melt into the terrain. Until then, they were exposed.

"Bowmen to the flanks. Riflemen start shooting as soon as they drop their parlay flag.” In this world, the sanctity of parlay was taken seriously.

Micael dropped their flag and, seconds later, Sullivan's went down.

Her ten riflemen acquired targets and fired.

Musketeers rely on shock and fire in volleys. Rifles could be individually aimed and had an effective range several times longer than the smooth-bore musket. Sullivan's cavalrymen began falling out of their seats—or jumping off injured horses—at a distance they had probably assumed was safe.

But ten riflemen can't stop a thousand knights. Especially when their weapons are slow-firing muzzle-loaders.

Sullivan's men hesitated, gathered their courage, and then charged.

Ellie had never been on the receiving end of a heavy cavalry charge of this magnitude. It was impressive and scary. Each horse and armored rider represented well over a ton of muscle and steel. Arrows, thrown spears, and even rifle bullets glanced off the knights’ heavy armor rather than penetrating.

With their streaming pennants, brightly painted shields, brightly buffed armor, and long deadly lances, the knights’ charge would have been pretty—if it hadn't been deadly.

The charge slowed and disorganized when it hit the first of the caltrops. A few of the knights pulled single shot pistols and blasted at the riflemen, one getting a lucky hit. But another ninja snatched up the rifle and kept up the too-slow rate of fire.

Around her, Ellie felt her ninja shifting, fearful, ready to run.

She waited until the knights were a hundred yards distant and then notched an arrow in her bow.

Rifles had the advantage of power, penetration, and range. But close-in, steel-bodkin tipped arrowheads propelled by the compound reflex bow could penetrate even plate armor—and she could fire her bow faster than the riflemen could reload.

Even as she drew and fired, she knew a few arrows weren't going to turn this tide. The ninja were badly outnumbered and Sullivan's men were going to take their licks and then close for slaughter.

When the first knights were within twenty feet, thrashing through the pits, the ninja opened up with their blowguns.

A few of the knights had open helmets and went down. More horses screamed—although armored, they didn't have the complete protection that most of the knights managed.

The ninja were doing damage—probably a lot more damage than Sullivan had thought they could accomplish. But it wasn't going to be enough.

Ellie set down her bow, picked up her katana, and chopped through the composite material of the bow. She didn't want Mark's army to face arrows from that weapon.

Centuries of Japanese swordsmanship had designed the katana to be used against mounted and armored knights. She dove into the fight, slicing at legs and stabbing at joints in the armor, always looking to reinforce weak spots in the thin line of ninja.

The ninja line sagged under the weight of the attack, but held.

Minutes oozed by more slowly than hours.

She could hear Sullivan roaring at his men, sensed the knights outflanking their ridge, coming at them from behind.