‘Might manage one last strike before we give up, though. Ain’t killed misself a Litse yet, and I reckon they’re still with that advance guard.’
‘How?’
‘We send the other legions in a long line to skirt the enemy, makin’ it look like we’re all there. They follow them ’round that damned dragon lump there, they’ll be slow to react to us.’
‘And we keep one legion here, concealed?’ Dassai frowned. ‘But then what? There are more than four legions in that advance guard. They just need to advance into us and we have to turn. If they do follow, there’s no one to hit them as we retreat.’
‘Exactly,’ Daken said with a sudden gleam in his eye, ‘no one in their right mind would try it!’
Dassai laughed, realising what Daken had in mind, and ran to give the orders.
There was barely a grumble from the soldiers as they changed positions, despite the hardships Daken had already put them through. They knew the end was in sight, and one final victory under the gaze of King Emin and his troops, that’d be a good note to go out on.
An hour later and the smile was gone from Dassai’s face. Even Daken looked tense as the two men and a scout lay on their bellies on the hill’s southern side. Each had a green scarf tied around his neck, the nearest to uniform they possessed.
‘How close do you want them?’ Dassai asked through the steel grille of his visor.
‘Close,’ Daken growled, refusing to be any more specific. Less than a mile away three legions were heading straight for them, following the easiest path as they led the way for the rest of the army. They hadn’t sent scouts any further ahead — Daken had weaned them off that particular habit several weeks back by leaving a dozen of his best archers in his wake at every obstacle. Now the Menin only marched en masse now, despite the slower pace.
‘That looks close to me, General,’ the scout said cautiously. He knew Daken wasn’t a stickler for protocol, but his bouts of good humour and informality never fully masked the fact that he was a white-eye and dangerous to predict.
‘Me too,’ Daken declared, his voice husky at the prospect of the violence to come. ‘Far enough to think, close enough not to think so hard.’
They wriggled back until they were out of sight, then leapt to their feet and joined the remaining legion. There were more than a thousand men, and Daken could see they were ready: unafraid, and as keen to shed Menin blood as he. The white-eye stood in his stirrups, raised his axe, and gave the signal, leading them down to the lower edges of the hill, where the slope was shallow enough to keep their formation, but still gave them some protection.
When they caught sight of the enemy, the troops gave an unprompted roar of defiance — one that was repeated as Daken raised his blood-streaked axe above his head and added his own voice.
The troops stared at each other, no more than three hundred yards apart, and close enough that Daken could make out the colours on their flags. One was white, the other two black: a Litse and two Menin light cavalry legions. The main bulk of the army was further back, almost a mile behind the advance guard.
‘Looks like you were right, General,’ Dassai commented, ‘the main body has slowed down: our decoy legions have won us some space to work with.’
‘Aye, fucking genius I am,’ Daken muttered, watching the nearer legions intently.
The enemy clattered to a ragged halt while their commander decided what to do. Their lines were tight; no doubt to keep them ordered and under control, but it wouldn’t help them with what Daken had planned.
‘Get us close enough, then give ’em a volley, let’s see if we can help ’em make up their minds,’ he told the marshal, who yelled the command.
The legion advanced slowly, arrows notched, bolts loaded and ready to fire. To the enemy it must have appeared they were still trying to induce a pursuit, moving cautiously enough to flee at a moment’s notice. They stood their ground and watched the Narkang cavalry approach, content to wait for them to get too close.
Dassai looked askance at Daken; the white-eye was sitting hunched in his saddle, fingers tight around the stained leather grip of his axe. As he gave the order to fire he saw Daken taking deep breaths, and his face slowly broke out into a manic grin. The arrows struck and he saw several men fall from their horses, and a few of the beasts themselves reared and kicked out in pain.
‘One more volley,’ Daken growled through bared teeth. He slipped the half-helm onto his head and watched as the horses continued walking forward all the while, closing the ground slowly and steadily.
Dassai gave the order, wondering idly whether his general would remember to give the order, or if he would just charge out all alone — that was perfectly possible, after all. The second volley killed more, and the reply from the Litse horsemen fell short, the angle of the slope and the wind against them.
‘Move, you lazy fuckers,’ someone commented from Dassai’s left, ‘maybe you’ll get close enough to hit something smaller than a hill.’ As Daken laughed out loud the marshal turned to see the speaker was a squadron captain, probably the most experienced man in the entire legion.
As bidden, the Litse began to edge closer, one block of cavalry on the left flank moving forward to a better position. Dassai felt a surge of anticipation as he saw the Litse advance, the slope taking them away from their allies.
‘Fuckers just dog-legged themselves!’ Daken announced loudly. ‘That’s enough fer me; charge, you mad bastards!’ The white-eye spurred his horse hard and the beast leaped forward as Daken raised his axe.
Marshal Dassai’s own mount followed out of instinct, as did those around him, and even before he’d had a chance to repeat the order hundreds were already charging.
Following the general’s lead, the young marshal urged his horse faster, a javelin held ready. With the slope on their side the distance dwindled with shocking speed and as Dassai hurled his javelin, closely followed by those around him, he saw the shock their charge had already caused. The Litse left flank was still trying to advance, while the right flank was trying to turn and withdraw to the safety of the main body of men, but as he pulled his sabre free, Dassai could see it was too late, there would be no avoiding their charge.
Daken barrelled directly into the exposed right wing of the Litse, screaming unintelligible curses. An arrow caught him in the upper arm, but he barely had time to notice before his horse had ploughed straight into the pale ranks of the enemy. An extended crash followed moments later as the rest of the troops arrived, but Daken was lost to his blood-rage. His horse battered a path through the first rank, and as its padded chest smashed against the first, throwing the rider from his saddle, Daken’s axe missed the man by a whisker. The white-eye whirled around and hacked down at the next, his axe shattering the soldier’s small shield and continuing through his chest.
Daken wrenched the weapon back and struck right as his horse pushed deeper into the Litse ranks. The next was felled as easily as the first, then he felt a horse smash against his own beast and before he could turn, an arm grabbed at his, nearly pulling him from the saddle. The white-eye, screaming curses, hauled back and the moment he felt the man’s grip give he jabbed over-arm with the butt of his axe and shattered the man’s cheekbone.
He raised the weapon again and saw a moment of pure terror on the face of the Litse before the curved blade chopped down into the side of his head and blood exploded everywhere, soaking Daken’s face. The white-eye swore and shook his head, trusting his men to protect him as he blinked the gore away.
Dassai, seeing his commander in need, moved in to cover him, but as his sabre glanced off a Litse’s shield, he realised it wasn’t even necessary - the Litse were barely even trying to fight back. He looked around and realised it was the same everywhere; they were struggling against their own in a frantic bid to escape. Half of the Narkang men had already pushed through the gap as the wing collapsed under their assault and were wheeling around to hit the centre Menin legion in their flank.
He stood tall in his stirrups, but still couldn’t see much more than a chaotic swirl of figures as the black livery and flashes of green tore deeper into the enemy ranks.
‘Watch your back!’ roared a voice beside him, and as Dassai turned the head of an enemy soldier was snapped backwards as Daken lunged and caught him in the throat with the spike of his axe.
He didn’t wait to thank the white-eye but went for the next Litse himself, slashing the man’s shoulder and tipping him from the saddle. He felt a spear bite the wooden shield held close to his body and slammed it against his ribs, but he managed to deflect the weapon and dislodge it from its owner’s grip by battering the shaft with his sabre. Before the man could grab his own sword, Dassai had made up the ground and cut across his exposed face, throwing him back in a spray of blood.
As the injured man reeled away it seemed to Dassai that was the breaking point. Like a herd of cattle, the Litse suddenly turned and bolted, abandoning their weapons and fleeing from the savage assault. A great cheer went up as the Litse broke, but the Narkang fighters wasted no time in exploiting the gap and turned to support those who’d already pushed through and hit the exposed centre legion. Seeing the first legion run, the Menin cavalry wilted under the assault and tried to scatter in all directions.
Seeing the confusion up ahead Daken roared, ‘Dismount!’ at the top of his voice.
As the marshal repeated the order he saw more than a hundred had done so already, anticipating the order. He too slipped from his saddle and followed Daken as the white-eye ran towards the Menin cavalry, knowing from experience it would be impossible to order their lines in time. A man on horseback normally had the advantage, but cavalry in disarray couldn’t properly fight off a concerted assault.
Panicked shouts came from the enemy line as the Narkang soldiers streamed towards them. They were only a hundred yards off, tightly packed and boxed in by the fleeing Litse. In the time it had taken Daken’s men to charge and butcher a significant number of Litse, the Menin cavalry’s attempt to turn and attack had failed miserably, a disordered mess made worse by some of the Litse actually running between squadrons of Menin in panic. Now many soldiers were milling about in confusion while dozens of voices yelled conflicting orders, warnings and curses.
One Menin squadron took the initiative and lowered spears, but as they began to advance, their officers called them back and they faltered in confusion.
Daken ignored everything but his target, an officer in the Menin front rank. A pair of horsemen saw him closing in and galloped to stop him, but before they could run him down, a ghostly figure darted forward in a blaze of smoky blue light. The horses shied away as Litania clawed at their eyes and left long bloody trails torn into their heads. One panicked entirely and ran across the path of other Menin trying to meet the onrush.
The other rider, shouting in alarm, wrenched his horse away from the Aspect’s clawed fingers and wheeled it in a circle as he tried to get the beast back under control, but Daken reached the man before the circle was complete and hammered his axe into the man’s back. The Menin arched in pain and fell, but Daken had already moved on, blood-splattered and roaring his defiance. Again the enemy shrank back as more of Daken’s legion arrived, lunging up with their spears and pulling men from the saddle. Without a cohesive line to defend, the closest Menin tried to turn away, obstructing their comrades who, not realising the danger, continued to press forward.
Dassai found Daken again as he was carving a bloody circle through the air, swinging two-handed through the panicked Menin. Dassai had his sabre in one hand and snatched up a discarded spear in the other, using them to carve a path through the chaos. He got as close to Daken as he dared, knowing the Menin would be fighting alone, vulnerable to the Narkang men acting in unison.
Ahead of him Daken screamed, and foamed bloodily at the mouth where he’d bitten his own tongue. He gave no thought to tactics as he threw himself at one Menin after the next, determined to massacre his way through the enemy ranks. The young marshal was forced to keep back or be cut down himself as he followed in Daken’s wake, running through those men who wheeled away from the dervish hacking madly in all directions.
The Menin didn’t stay to fight. Within minutes they were sounding the retreat, trying to batter a path through their comrades. The Narkang had discovered over the last few weeks the Menin light cavalry hated close-quarters fighting, and without space to move, their height advantage meant nothing. Men lay screaming all around, many with the spears that had driven them from their saddles still lodged in their bellies.
Just as he began to see daylight through the thinning crowd of Menin, Dassai slipped on a bloody tuft of grass, and by the time he recovered his balance, the bulk of the Menin were throwing their weapons away and fleeing after their reluctant Litse allies. A few Narkang soldiers pursued, but they were on foot and soon gave up the chase, panting and bellowing Daken’s name as they ran back to their colleagues.
‘Back to the horses!’ Dassai shouted at the top of his voice. Fatigue meant the first few words were lost on the bulk of their men, but once again, they were expecting the order. The rest of the Menin would not be far away, and if they didn’t escape now they’d be the ones on the receiving end of a charge.