Sterling Lanier - The Unforsaken Hiero

The Unclean trumpets back on shore rose to a screaming pitch, incessant and shrill. By boat and in the water, the enemy fled for the northern banks. They had begun to do so even before the signal to retreat had rung out. Beaten and demoralized, yet still in great numbers, they swam and paddled for their lives. Not one had come near to setting foot on the farther shore.

The war boats of the Republic moved in behind them, the terrible fire taking a continuous toll. Blasts from the guns swept the shore, and arrows flew through the smoke. Looking at the sun over the reeking clouds, Hiero realized that it was noon and that hardly an hour had passed since the enemy had launched its craft upon the lake. He wondered how the battle to the east was coming. The foe still mustered great strength and would fight hard if given a chance to rally. Would the interpretation of what came next be accurate?

“To your posts, gentlemen,” he said quietly, “I want this tower struck at once. The enemy could see it if they came now.”

They went down the long ladder like men possessed. In moments, the tower was disassembled and the three ranking officers were riding slowly along the lines. Saclare dropped off to command the right flank, and Hiero halted in the center; Lejus went on to take over the left. Listening hard, Hiero could hear a slackening of the gunfire from the lake. He could think of no reason for it but one—lack of targets of opportunity. Now only an occasional rumble came from the smoke bank in the southeast.

He turned to the catfolk, who stood waiting by his saddle. I have a task of great danger for you, he sent. We must know if the enemy comes and how fast. Ch’uirsh, go to the left. Za’reekh, you go to the right Try to reach me with your minds, but come back if you cannot. Do not be seen if you can possibly help it. Kill none unless i t is death not to do otherwise. I seek knowledge, not bodies. Will you go? M’reen, you will go to my front, but not as far as the others. You can perhaps relay their thoughts.

They did not even answer, but were gone like three marsh sprites, skimming grass clumps and knee-deep water as if they were not there.

“If this were dry ground, I’d send you two on a scout,” he said to the twins. “But I don’t want the enemy to see a single morse, and you can’t move in this muck like those three.” They nodded bleakly and settled themselves at rest in their saddles.

Waiting was not easy. Hiero tried to think about the future; when he found this too depressing, he narrowed it to the immediate future. He had two tasks before him, and they might come quickly, even together. One — break the enemy flank to pieces. Come and be broken, damn you! Two — find and kill S’duna. You’re out there, you filth, I know it. Too many of your dirty renegade humans, too many louse-bitten Leemutes. You threw everything you had into this one and you couldn’t stay behind on Manoon, polluting the sun with your amusements this time!

Behind his back, the long lines shifted and swayed. All the riders were mounted, simply waiting for a word. Where were the cats?

M’reen’s thought came like lightning as he slapped at a cloud of hungry gnats and mosquitoes. We are coming back! My males have found them! They come from the trees, many, many! Be warned!

Hiero hand-signaled as previously arranged, and the ripple of readiness welled away from him in both directions along the ranks.

The Children of the Wind appeared in a clump, running and dodging like the racers they were. Missiles fell around them, but none hit.

The general bore no lance. His white plume dipped as he bent and drew the long, straight sword from its sheath on Klootz’s saddle. The two Mantan brothers ranged up, one on each side, their slender war axes across their saddlebows. The front of the enemy appeared, Leemutes and humans completely intermingled.

Hiero raised his sword high in his gauntleted right hand, then drove it down, and they were off. Come on, big boy, he sent. This is what it’s all about! Beside the three leading morses, the light pads of the cat people spurned the sedges.

Hiero’s fist clenched inside the basket hilt of the cavalry saber as he held it straight forward like a spear. As Klootz gathered speed, his rider could hear the rising splash and thunder of the charging lines behind. He stole a glance to either side. Good! They had learned the orders!

The left wing, the northern line of the morse riders, was swinging slowly past him, never breaking ranks. The right wing was holding back, so that the line was beginning to show an arc. The left would strike first and then roll the enemy up, cutting them off at the edge of the swamp and driving them into the open, away from any cover.

Now there was no time to think at all, and he concentrated on what lay in front. The days and weeks of planning were over, and he was a killing machine and nothing more. Klootz bellowed with battle rage, and his kin answered from behind, a rolling, swelling roar which rumbled from one end of the line to the other.

The Unclean halted, milling in confusion. The Man-rats and the Plague Hounds, those that were left, had made little of the swamp, which hardly slowed them at all. But the men, though disciplined and deadly fighters on solid ground, were floundering, tripping over tussocks and slipping in the pools and mud. A great number of the Howlers were dismounted, and they liked this bog no better than their human allies. As the line of antlered heads and the glitter of the lance points and armor rose before them, many turned to flee. Others, of sterner stuff or with better officers, tried to form a line or at least a shield wall. The result was confusion! Order, counterorder—disorder!

From far left to far right, the terrible cavalry of the North charged home!

Hiero’s sword point split the face of a giant Howler, and he withdrew it as Klootz lunged on. Every lance, seemingly, skewered one of the enemy, front or back, and then, butt lifted high, was withdrawn and leveled once more, seeking fresh prey.

It made no difference whether the Unclean fled or tried to stand. If the riders missed, their mighty steeds did the work, slashing and trampling, pounding the enemy underfoot with their giant hooves, seizing them in their teeth and shaking them off like bits of tattered bark until they fell away, mangled and lifeless.

A monstrous Hound, jaws agape, sprang at Hiero’s bridle hand. Without thinking, he dropped the reins and raised the unbreakable shield, the gift of his strangest friend, to dash the brute aside. A long-handled hatchet swept past his side, and Reyn Mantan’s blow split the creature’s skull.

The impetus of the charge was slowing, but not very much. As all the riders angled to the right, never stopping or allowing the Unclean to form and make a stand, the edge of the deep woods loomed up in front. It was hard fighting now, for the compressed masses of the broken foe were trying desperately to reach that shelter. Enemy crossbowmen and javelin throwers, human and otherwise, shot and hurled their missiles from the trees in a last effort to hold the mounted men back from their quarry. Saddles were being emptied, but the mutated giant moose were no scared beasts when bereft of their riders! They fought on with empty saddles, keeping the lines intact, as they had been taught. If one of the gallant animals fell, the others, with men in the saddle or not, closed the line and kept on to the attack. The extreme left took the heaviest losses, but narrowed in without letup, herding the squalling Leemutes and their fragmented masters out and away from the refuge of the trees.

Hiero was unscathed so far, but his right arm was growing very tired. The beloved creature who bore him bled from a dozen light wounds, of which Klootz took no note at all. His eyes were red with blood lust and he felt no pain. Reyn Mantan and M’reen, her long knife bloody, watched Hiero’s left while the two male cats and Geor Mantan protected his right. The Mantans had produced light oval shields of laminated bark from some pack or other and deftly deflected the missiles of any sort which menaced their leader.