“So what are we going to do now?” Herzer asked nervously. The small force on the hill was outnumbered nearly a hundred to one.
“See how many of them we can make die,” Edmund said with a chuckle. “And then, run away.”
Herzer heard the horses start up the defile and looked around involuntarily.
“Eyes front,” Edmund called. “They come up the hill and we kill them. Not much more to it.”
The orcs moving among the trees were a poor target for the bowmen so they concentrated on the armored figures moving up the trail. Again the figures dropped, one by one, but behind them was a tide of orcs and as they ascended the trail the surviving enemy bowmen reached a position to start to fire back. Their bows were lighter than those of the Raven’s Mill archers but they scored, mostly among the archers and their assistants. The archers shifted fire to get rid of them and in doing so gave the armored men-at-arms the chance to scramble up the hill unmolested.
The men-at-arms on the trail were making much better time than those on either side and they reached the palisade first. Again there was the desperate struggle around the giant tree as the armored figures burst over the palisade. Herzer waded in with a will, swinging a giant mallet used for driving in the stakes of the palisade, and his corded muscles brought it down with enormous force. But it required two hands to wield and one of the armored men-at-arms got past it, giving him a deep slash on his shield arm. However, in a brief flurry of battle all of the armored figures were down and it was time to deal with the orcs that followed them.
Herzer found himself in the thick of that battle as well. He picked up a dropped pilum and drove it down the hill into the shield of one of the orcs, then stooped to pick up his shield, drawing his short sword as he did so.
“BLOOD LORDS TO ME!” he called, slashing at the grotesquely Changed figures clambering over the parapet.
He found Cruz and Deann on either side of him and the three managed to get the shield wall reformed as the tide swept up the battlements. Then it was time to forget; all they did was hack and slash at the enemy in front of them, sweeping at exposed arms, dropping their shields just long enough to drive them into feet with an over-the-top jab at the face, covering their shield brethren.
In the midst of it, Herzer could sense Edmund moving to either side of him. Wherever the line needed bolstering, suddenly the hammer of the baron would crash down and an orc or two or one time three would be smashed back over the parapet in a welter of blood.
Herzer didn’t know how long the battle went on; it was simply hack and hew, just like training, except for the screams of the orcs and the occasional grunt from either side of him. Finally the tide turned and the only people standing in the trench were the defenders from Raven’s Mill.
The trench was filled with bodies, most of them orcs but a few of the Blood Lords, and more of the archers, were down. Ed Stalker was lying in the blood-filled trench, a sword driven all the way through his body, but his own sword in the throat of the orc that had killed him. Bue Pedersen had a nasty gash on his sword arm that was dripping blood from a hastily applied bandage and at least three of the archers were never going to see Raven’s Mill again.
“Toss the bodies of the enemy over the side and start taking the parapet down,” Edmund said. “Start moving the wounded up the hill. Bury our dead in the trench.”
“Yes, sir,” Herzer answered tiredly. “What about stripping the bodies?” he continued, looking at the corpses and a few that were wounded. The orcs were being finished off as he asked. “There’s some good material here that the town could use.”
“We can’t carry it, though,” Edmund pointed out. “I’d say leave it. McGibbon.”
“My lord.”
“Send half your archers up to the first retreat point,” Talbot said. “There should be a rider waiting there.”
Edmund stood on the plateau as the Blood Lords and the remaining archers went to work. “How long, Herzer?” he asked, shielding his eyes against the westering sun.
“Thirty minutes, Baron,” Herzer gasped, lifting one of the palisade poles out of the ground with a wedge.
“Plenty of time,” Edmund muttered, looking down the hill. “Look at them milling around. Archers, drop that and see if you can get a few arrows to reach that far.”
With the covering fire of the archers, which did indeed make it to where the enemy was attempting to reassemble, the triari quickly took down their defensive position and buried the bodies of their fallen in the good earth. If they were in there with the blood of their enemies, so much the better, but all of the enemy was left on the ground for their “friends” to deal with. Or not. There were still ravens aplenty in the Shenan valley, and they had begun to gather already.
“Archers, move to the second defense point,” Edmund said. “When you reach it, Mac, get the rest moving up the hill. Blood Lords, up to the camp. Move it.”
* * *
Evening found them back in the palisades they had left the previous day. They had their first hot meal in a while and the bannocks and boiled salt pork had never tasted so good. The cavalry was gone before they got there but there were sufficient forces, between the archers and the Blood Lords, that they could go to minimal security and everyone could get a decent night’s rest.
The fires of the enemy were twinkling in the valley and while they couldn’t see many of them moving around, as long as the fires were there they could know that they hadn’t moved.
Herzer quickly fell asleep when he went off watch but his sleep was filled with dreams to such an extent that he kept waking up. Around him when he woke the camp was filled with mutters and groans as others apparently relived the battle. Finally, before dawn, he gave up trying to get any more rest, put on his armor and wandered over to the fire at the center of the encampment. The baron was up as well and handed him a mug of sassafras tea.
“It’s a damned poor substitute for real tea,” Edmund growled, “but at least it’s hot.”
Herzer sipped it and warmed his hands, looking at the palisade. “Any news?”
“Not a sign. Which I think means they moved out in the middle of the night.”
Herzer had taken a look at the valley before coming over and shook his head. “There are still fires.”
“Sure, you leave a few people behind to keep them going and move the rest of your force out. It’s an old trick.”
“But we won’t know where they’ve gone,” Herzer said, worried. “They could be halfway down the valley!”
“So?” Edmund chuckled. “I don’t care how fast they’re moving. Now that you guys have gotten some rest, we can get ahead of them. We’re inside their maneuver zone. Whichever way they go, we can cut them off. If they head north, we head north and either get ahead of them or move down to the bridge to cut them off. If they try to head back around the mountain, we can cross the river ahead of them and do the same. We’re inside their arc.”
“But how are we going to know which way to go?” Herzer asked then looked around. “The cavalry.”
“I sent them out in two groups,” Edmund replied. “They didn’t get much sleep but I also sent the horses that the archers had been using. They can stay ahead of them and signal their intentions. They might have stayed in place, in which case they’ll try to assault up the valley. Do you think they can take this fort? After what we did to them yesterday with less defenses?”
“No,” Herzer admitted.
“Neither do I. We’ll know where they are as soon as the sun rises. And on that note, it’s about time to get everyone moving.”
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