John Ringo: Against the Tide

Legions in history had never been supported by a longbow corps, but the combination was a natural. One of the two weaknesses of the Roman army had been its reliance on auxiliaries for projectile weapons and the relative weakness of those. Mostly they had used Balearic slingers. A sling was a deadly weapon against unarmored troops but it was relatively short-ranged and of limited utility against any force in armor.

Longbows, on the other hand, were accurate to three hundred meters and could pierce almost any armor at two. With the legions pinning the New Destiny force in place, the archers were having a good killing. As he watched, wave after wave of cloth-yard shafts fell among the orcs, slaughtering them in droves. One of the big “ogres” they had been warned about made its way through the press but before it could even reach the legion lines it began sprouting feathers. Only the feathers were visible, and not many of those, as the arrows punched deep into its flesh. It fell well short of the legionnaire lines, crushing two orcs under it.

It probably wouldn’t have mattered, anyway, because a platoon of pike bearers had rushed to the spot opposite its path, prepared to make their way to the second rank and either fend it off or kill it.

Everything was going precisely to plan except one.

“Where in the hell are the dragons?” Edmund growled, pulling out a pocket-watch. The newfangled/oldfangled things were hideously expensive, but more than worth it when timing was crucial. He looked at the time and put the watch away.

“Late?” General Lepheimer asked.

“Ten minutes,” Edmund replied, sourly. He saw a trickle of orcs falling away on the left flank. Now would be the time to order a charge. But… it wasn’t time yet! Or, rather, it was but he wasn’t ready !

“Damnit, Herzer,” he muttered. “Where are you?”

There was a light wind from the north and Azure suddenly sat up, sniffing the air, his mouth open in a grimace to catch the slightest of scents. After a moment he dropped back to his belly and began slithering forward, purring faintly. He had the scent of the Great One of his human’s household. And where the Great One went, enemies fell before him.

It was payback time.

General Magalong shook his head as he lowered the binoculars. He could see the orcs starting to stream back and the archers on the hillside. But look to the east as he might, he could see no sign of dragons.

“Where are they?” he asked Ensign Van Krief angrily.

“They’ll be here, sir,” Van Krief said. “Now’s the time.”

“There was supposed to be a signal!” Magalong replied. “The dragons were supposed to signal!”

“We don’t have time, sir,” the ensign said. “They’re breaking now . We have to move now to be in position.”

Magalong looked one more time to the east, shielding his eyes and squinting against the sun, then sneezed thunderously. Then he turned to one of his aides and shrugged.

“Open the gates.”

“Okay, let me get this straight,” Colonel Heiskanen said. “You’re a counterintelligence agent. And all those bodies are…?”

“Colonel, I just do what I’m ordered,” Cruz replied. His arms were tied behind him and Heiskanen dangled the key in his own hand. “I was ordered to protect the councilwoman, if possible, and terminate Undersecretary Chambers with extreme prejudice. Since he killed the councilwoman, and the general, I’d say I had reason. Don’t you?”

“So what’s the deal with the big posts?” Heiskanen asked, pointing to the empty portals.

“I have no idea,” Cruz said, looking over at the assembled Blood Lord battalion sadly. “I’d say, though, that you’re about to go somewhere.”

“The last time you were here, officially, we were trying to decide whether to court-martial your ass,” Heiskanen replied, angrily. “And now you tell me you’re a counterintelligence agent ? A counterintelligence assassin ?”

“Colonel, with all due respect, that’s something for my superiors and your superiors to work out,” Cruz said. “Your job, right now, is to communicate with somebody who knows what the councilwoman’s orders were. Because I don’t. And, sir, I’d do it damned fast if I were you.”

“Listen up, legion!” Magalong shouted from the back of his horse. The legion had exited the walls thrown up around the center of Balmoran and now was deployed in open order on the fields in front. “On my orders you will double-time to the enemy encampment! First Cohort Bravo will refuse the left flank. Third Cohort Charlie will refuse the right. Everyone else will assault through the south gate! It’s supposed to be open! If it’s not we’re going to take it anyway!”

He spun the horse in place and waved forward.

“Quick time… March!”

The legion stepped forward at the repeated commands and Magalong nodded at the bugler. “Sound for double-time.”

As the bugle rang over the formation the legionnaires raised their pilums and began to trot.

“BLOOD AND STEEL!”

“FINALLY!” Edmund shouted, looking up to the east. “Go, go, GO! Signaler, break right!”

“God damn, we’re late,” Herzer shouted.

“Not my fault!” Joanna yelled back. “On my mark… BREAK!”

“Ah, perfect,” Conner said as the orcs began running for the camp. The legion was following at a slower pace, not keeping in contact or breaking to pursue, which was unfortunate but wouldn’t really matter. By the time the second force was through the gates they’d be out of position to be supported by the archers. He looked behind him and smiled as the tide of orcs started spilling out of the portals. They had been drilled carefully. Walk to the portals and then run down the corridors to the north gate. He felt the gate under him creak and smiled as the first of them started spilling onto the field. The retreating orcs had also been drilled. If they came for the main gate they’d be slaughtered like pigs. Go for the sides. And they were, splitting into two streams, the one to the east gate larger by far since it was closer. The main force approaching the legion was masked by the ones in retreat. They might be noticed by the archers, but it was unlikely that even Edmund Talbot…

“Dragons!” one of the sentries yelled, pointing to the east.

“Ah,” Conner said, looking over at Rachel. “And now your vaunted dragons turn up. A day late and more than a credit short.” He turned to look out over the retreating host and grinned. “And they’ll come in and drop their load of fire over the poor retreating orcs, then fly back to their ships. By the time they are turned around, the legion and your elite bow corps will be slaughtered and we’ll have our anti-dragon defenses up and waiting.”

“General,” a messenger panted, coming up the stairs out of breath. “Balmoran…”

“What?” General Kossin said. “What about Balmoran?”

“They’ve sortied, sir,” the messenger said as the orcs pounded by below.

“A forlorn hope?” the general asked. “A cohort?”

“All of them, sir,” the messenger said, desperately. “It’s the whole legion!”

“I don’t have the forces left to repel that,” the general said, angrily. “Unless… move the reserve company to the south gate,” he continued to one of his aides then turned to the others that were hovering around. “Move all forces to the south gate. Hold them off. We’ll deal with them when the rest are through the gates…”