John Carr - Siege of Tarr-Hostigos

Phidestros watched with an exhilaration bordering on glee as the Hostigi left wing began to waver and then fall back. Arch-Strategos Zarphu had used his heavy cavalry to batter and pin the flank of the Hostigi left wing, while his light cavalry and heavy infantry mounted a determined frontal assault. The result was that the entire left wing of the Hostigi army was falling back. If Kalvan didn't counterattack immediately, he might find himself out-maneuvered as the Ros-Zarthani swept through the ranks of the Hostigi left flank, wheeled and hit his center from behind! Most of the Hostigi right wing was off the battlefield, chasing the collapsed left wing of the Grand Host. He hoped they stayed in full pursuit.

The Blethan ruse must have worked since he had seen nothing of the Hostigi reserve for over half a candle. He suspected it was now too late for them to make any difference to this battle. As to his own left wing, Phidestros had to assume the worst. After the horse had gone into retreat, the Hostigi foot had pressed his left wing so strongly they had been out of visual sight for over a candle and a half. The last scout report had been that other than the Harphaxi Royal Foot Guard, the entire left wing was in full rout and Marshal Zythannes, who had reportedly run from the battlefield, was mortally wounded.

Zythannes had better be dead before this battle ends or otherwise he will be the subject of an 'investigation' by his own Grand Captain-General!

Phidestros left four companies of dragoons to protect the baggage train and sent the rest of his reserve downhill to a place where there was a natural ridge that he could use to his advantage should the Hostigi right turn and try to outflank his own center.

Now, if only he could break through the logjam in the center of Kalvan's battle-line! Most of Kalvan's guns were still firing and the Sacred Squares were stymied between them and the forward musketeers. It was time to send Mythross and the Red Hand into the gap left by the advancing Ros-Zarthani.

Kalvan watched with growing apprehension as his aide-de-camp beat the rear of his horse with the flat of his saber to get him to the top of the small hillock where Kalvan was perched above his army. What additional bad news did Colonel Porthos bear now? The entire Hostigi left wing was being held together, and kept from out-and-out rout, by Phrames' cavalry, who had just pinned the flanking Ros-Zarthani heavy cavalry so the infantry could retreat in formation. Now the Red Hand was joining the fray against the Royal Batteries at the center of his battle line; what else could go wrong?

"King Kalvan! King Kalvan! The mercenaries have learned our baggage train has been attacked. They are threatening to retire in mass!"

"Those milk-sucking dogs! To Styphon with them!" Kalvan caught his breath and quickly reviewed his remaining options. Rylla-he assumed she still had the reserve committed to saving the baggage train from the traitorous Sastragathi-was out of the picture. Damn her pride! She should have let the Sastragathi take the wagons; they could have recaptured them later. Or, if worst came to worst, they wouldn't have mattered anyway. Yet, would he have done any different, facing an attack from behind? He shook his head.

If the mercenary cavalry retired en masse it would leave the already heavily pressed infantry and Phrames' regiments unsupported. Then it would be every man for himself. If only General Hestophes would return with the right wing. Where in the Sam Hill was he?

Probably chasing Styphoni over hill and dale all the way into Sask. He couldn't expect any help from there. Kalvan had a sinking feeling that he was about to lose everything. As he had told his own generals countless times: The general who commits his reserve first is the one most likely to lose.

With Rylla Dralm-only-knew-where, his single guard cavalry regiment and the Urgothi Tymannian Guard were the only reserve left to the entire Hostigi army.

"What do we do? Where do we go, Your Majesty?"

Kalvan turned and peered at Colonel Porthos; his helmet gone, his face streaked with black powder, blood and grime.

Kalvan turned back to face his mounted Lifeguards and addressed them with what he thought might be valuable advice-at least it had done old Cromwell some good. "Put your trust in Dralm, and keep your fireseed dry!"

He doubted that one in ten could have heard his words, over the din of battle and thunder of guns, but they raised their pistols and cheered anyway. His Tymannian Guard hoisted their battleaxes and boar spears, looking for all the world like the Vikings of Harold Hadrada. The Urgothi battle horns began to bellow and the Guard spurred their horses. The Raven Banner was hoisted by one of the Guardsmen following Vanar Halgoth, who was so tall his warhorse looked like a pony.

Kalvan raised his saber and cried, "Lay on, McDuff, and damned be him who first cries, 'Hold! Enough!' CHARGE!"

Kalvan led his men straight into a clot of several hundred Ros-Zarthani cavalry, who had circled around the center, and were about to launch an attack on the Hostigi rear. The mercenary horse, which was on the verge of retreat, suddenly stiffened and Kalvan heard them chant. "King Kalvan! For King Kalvan! Down Styphon, too!" A moment later he had fired the pistol in his left hand, bowling a lancer in scaled armor out of his saddle, and was swinging his saber at a helmless Ros-Zarthani man-at-arms.

Vanar Halgoth's massive battleaxe split the helm of a Ros-Zarthani who was about to throw a nasty looking dart at Kalvan. He nodded his thanks, and Vanar's face split in a grin that showed a mouthful of jack-o'-lantern teeth. Then Kalvan was too busy exchanging sword blows with a fully armored Agrysi knight to notice anything but the red splatter in the air as his saber split the man's armet helm in twain.

V

White and gray smoke swirled around Vanar Halgoth like the early morning fog broiling around the banks of the Great River. The stench of fear and brimstone filled the air. A breeze came up and blew the gunsmoke into tatters and he could see a sea of soldiers moving towards their position. The big guns went off again and a thunderclap smote his ears. The Tymannian Guardsmen moved uneasily, but he knew they would hold against anything this world had to offer. They were still not used to seeing and hearing so many guns at once. More fireseed had been burned in that salvo than all the fireseed used in the Sastragath for a generation.

Great King Kalvan had provided the Guard with horses, but they fought better on foot, so most had dismounted and formed a line six men deep. Only Vanar and a dozen handpicked Guardsmen were on horseback, since it was the Great King's way to ride off into battle, often ahead of his Lifeguard. Vanar had given Queen Rylla his oath that he would not let Kalvan get farther than two horse lengths away from his Guard.

The Urgothi warriors who made up the Bodyguard were not accustomed to holding a formation in the midst of battle so there was a lot of uneasy movement back and forth. These men were not fearful, just anxious to join in battle against their foes. Traditionally, the berserks would spend two or three ritualized sleepless evenings, drinking, smoking pipes, dancing to the drums and shouting until they felt the very blood in their veins boil. Some of the warriors were anxious and even angry at foregoing their battle rituals, but Vanar had explained this was a new type of warfare and the old ways did not always work, especially against the fireseed devils.

He watched as a load of caseshot tore through a troop of enemy cavalry, shredding armor, men and horses with impartiality. Already the scent and excitement of battle must have put some of the Bodyguard into the battle-rage, he could tell by the their eyes and how some of them were chewing the edges of their shields. If they broke out of line, battle-rage or no, they would answer to him!