L. Modesitt - Cyador’s Heirs

“They don’t look bad, ser … the stick figures, I mean.”

“If they just keep the Meroweyans together for a time, that will be helpful.”

“They’ll help,” Lerial affirms.

“For long enough? We’ll see.”

“What have the scouts reported?”

“The Meroweyans are forming up in a very small hamlet. They’re about two kays south. Might be a little less.”

Lerial extends his order-senses. While he can sense a mass of men in and around some dwellings on a lane some two kays south, there are so many Meroweyans in such a small areas that he cannot make out details. “Have you heard any more about Juist and Denieryn?”

“No. We won’t hear anything until after whatever happens here today. That’s if the Meroweyans even decide to attack.”

“You think they won’t?”

“You never know until it happens. I just hope they haven’t heard too much about what happened at Faerwest. That might decide them against attacking.”

Lerial understands that Altyrn definitely wants the Meroweyans to attack, outnumbered as the majer’s forces are.

“So that, even if they decide to withdraw, they lose more armsmen?”

“The more they lose here, the less likely Casseon is to consider attacking again … or opposing your father. It would be best if we could defeat them decisively, but that’s unlikely. If we can hold together for a few more battles, and they keep taking the kind of casualties they have been, they might get to the point where their commander will realize that there’s little difference, so far as he’s concerned, between a victory and a defeat. That’s when things could get very deadly.”

“Because he’ll be facing one disaster if he continues and another disaster if he has to return to Nubyat?”

Altyrn nods, still looking at the defense emplacements largely garrisoned by stick figures at the moment. When he does not speak for a time, Lerial slips away to seek out his squad leaders and go over the plans for the day. They are simple enough, not that executing them will be anywhere close to that simple. Or that things will work out even close to what the majer has planned.

In order to dissuade the Meroweyans from immediately using their horse to sweep over the ends of the ridge beyond the trench, Altyrn has assigned two mounted squads from first company at the east end, and two from fifth company at the west end. The remainder of first company is to hold the center of the trench, with second company on the east and fourth on the west of center. All the mounts for the Lancers and archers in the trenches are on tie-lines on the back side of the rise, close enough for the Lancers to reach them in moments, long moments perhaps, when the time comes for the withdrawal. The inevitable withdrawal, thinks Lerial.

Once he reviews the postings with the four squad leaders, he dismisses them to have them position their rankers. Then he grooms the gelding and leads him out to the tie-line below the ridge. From what he can order-sense, the Meroweyans have left their encampment-or most have, since a small group, perhaps a squad’s worth of cooks or others, remains-and are proceeding along the main road toward the meadow and the Verdyn emplacements.

He studies the sky once more, but there are no signs of clouds, and the wind is warm and out of the north. He tests the order and chaos in the air by creating the smallest of clouds by separating the order and chaos, then shakes his head, knowing that he is missing something, but is unable to determine what he is overlooking. Or what you do not know.

“How long before they get here, ser?” That is the first question Korlyn asks after reporting that first squad is in position and standing ready.

“A glass or so.”

“You said fifteen companies?”

Lerial notes the uneasiness in the squad leader’s tone and replies, “We don’t have to hold the trench to the last ranker. Our job is to inflict as many casualties as possible and then withdraw.” And keep doing it, retreating from place to place, until we destroy them, or they us, or they decide it isn’t worth it and go away.

Korlyn looks pointedly to the east, then asks earnestly, his open round face expressing worry. “How long do you think it will be before they try to circle around the ridge?”

“As soon as they think they can. Our job is to send arrows and spears into their main body so that they don’t have time to think about what else they might do.”

“What if they don’t attack?”

“Most likely they’ll get hungry and they’ll have to start raiding the local people, and the people will hide everything. Then the Meroweyans will start losing men one by one, and they’ll try to take another town. We’ll be waiting, and they’ll be attacking with fewer men.”

“They’ll start killing people in the forest steads and smaller hamlets. It’ll be hard on them.”

“That’s possible,” Lerial admits.

“What does Duke Casseon really get from all this, ser?”

“He wants to stop the people of Verdheln from becoming part of Cigoerne, because that will strengthen Cigoerne. He thinks that will also protect Duke Atroyan, and he and Duke Khesyn want to eventually take over both Cigoerne and Afrit.” Lerial pauses. “That’s the way I see it.”

“Two dukes who have everything they could want aren’t satisfied and want more, and lots of armsmen and innocent people are dying because of it?”

“That’s a fair way of putting it. But there’s nothing new about that.”

“Doesn’t make it right, does it, ser?”

“No … but right has to be supported by strength. You’ve seen that, I’m sure.”

Korlyn shakes his head and looks as though he is about to say more when Bhurl approaches and announces, “Second squad in position and ready, ser.”

“Good. Have the men stand easy.”

“Yes, ser.”

Korlyn and Bhurl return to their squads, and almost immediately Fhentaar and Moraris report, and then return to their squads. Lerial uses his order senses to check the Meroweyan progress. The lead armsmen are less than a kay from the south side of the meadow, and the green-blue sky remains bright and clear.

A half glass later the first of the Meroweyan forces arrive, a company of mounted armsmen who take a position a hundred yards into the meadow, while behind them the first of the Meroweyan foot form up into a shieldwall that moves forward almost to the mounted troopers, who then ride eastward to a point opposite the end of the Verdyn trench. To counter that, or to give the appearance of it, the two squads of Verdyn Lancers, from first company, ride up to the east end of the trench. Then another company of Meroweyan horse enters the grassy expanse and rides to a point opposite the west end of the Verdyn emplacement. They are countered by Shaskyn’s two squads.

More Meroweyan foot form up behind the shieldwall, almost as wide as the trench that holds the Verdyn forces. Behind the shields, armsmen form more closely than Lerial has seen before, and more seem to fill the space until the Meroweyans are more than ten deep.

Farther back, surrounded by another two companies of cavalry, are two chaos wizards, but Lerial can sense no buildup of chaos, only the chaos mist-slightly different for each of the two-that indicates that both have raised a concealment of sorts, and likely some form of shields as well.

A horn signal sounds, and the shieldwall begins to advance, but the mounted companies remain where they have drawn up, some hundred yards out from the trees on the south side of the meadow, on the flanks of the shieldwall. While the riders carry spears shorter than lances and look ready, they have not moved. As the shield wall approaches the bottom of the rise, the foot behind the large front shields lift smaller shields almost overhead but angled to minimize the impact of the Verdyn arrows. The mounted body behind the massed foot moves forward as well, but there is a gap of at least twenty yards behind the rear of the foot and the first riders.