Douglas Niles - Measure and the Truth

“Excellency! The men are tiring badly. Are you sure you don’t want to stop for a few hours to let them rest?”

General Weaver’s question was legitimate since the army had been marching hard for three days. But the emperor had no patience for questions or delays. Jaymes had traveled that valley many times. He knew that New Compound was a two-hour march away-two hours if they could at least maintain their crawling pace!

“No rest!” he snapped. “There’ll be plenty of time for that after Ankhar is dead.”

He knew the risks he was taking. Bringing a fatigued army directly into battle from a forced march tempted disaster. But it was a calculated risk too, for he reckoned the ogres would be celebrating chaotically after driving the dwarves out of New Compound. Most likely the great majority would be drunk or groggy with powerful hangovers. If he delayed, his men would have time to rest, but the enemy would have time to recover as well.

And there were other risks. What if Ankhar was planning to withdraw back up and over the Garnet Mountains? They might lose his trail entirely! And how many dwarves had he killed? Was Dram alive… and Sally? What about their little son? With a twinge, Jaymes realized he hadn’t been there to see the lad in more than a year.

Curse Dram for a fool anyway! If he had built those bombards-ah, a foolish complaint at the moment. The big guns could reduce a fortress, but they would have been useless against ogres swarming down from the mountains. By the time the gunners were readying their second or third shot, the battery would have been overrun.

“Move!” demanded the emperor, picking up the pace of his own marching. He had dismounted hours earlier, striding on foot so as to set a better example for the men. He was grateful for the good dwarven road, smooth and gently graded, carrying them steadily and quickly up the valley toward New Compound.

He recognized a ridge before them, a moraine running perpendicular to the valley floor. It was the last obstacle before the town, and he halted his army. Ordering them to deploy on both sides of the road, he advanced carefully to a crest with General Weaver and Sergeant Ian.

They spotted the smoke even before the town came into view. Crouching, moving through some underbrush to the side of the road, they made their way to a decent vantage, where they could look over New Compound without being observed.

The great fire in the plaza was the central feature of the view, still casting a plume of smoke more than a mile into the sky. At the base of the blaze, smoldering rather than flaming, lay the charred ruins of nearly a dozen bombard tubes. So Dram had started manufacturing them after all!

And Ankhar had destroyed them and so much more. Jaymes took in the blackened warehouses, the splintered tangle that had been a neat lumberyard. The doors of every house he could see had been smashed in, with personal belongings, fabrics, and furniture scattered around in the streets and yards. The emperor’s jaw clenched in fury, and his eyes narrowed to mere slits, glaring with hatred at the damage that had come to the place-to his place!

For if Dram Feldspar had been the caretaker of New Compound, Jaymes Markham had been its creator. His orders had caused it to be built there, and his steel had funded its operations. It would be his soldiers who avenged its destruction.

His narrowed eyes took in the military features of the valley. The once-splendid stone bridge-Dram had been inordinately proud of the structure, Jaymes thought-was a blasted ruin. Beside the wrecked span, the ogres had placed log bridges across the stream at several places, obviously readying for a march down the valley. But bridges could work in both directions, Jaymes knew.

At the moment the ogre army looked more like a disorganized mob. A few of the troops were up on the mountainside, apparently inspecting the rock piles where the dwarves of New Compound had been buried alive. The others were carousing through the ruined town. From where Jaymes was, it appeared as though nearly all were drunk. Certainly they were not expecting battle.

“We’re going to strike at once,” the emperor declared curtly.

“Certainly, Excellency,” General Weaver declared. He gestured to the base of the cliff wall to the left, where a dense pine forest concealed the ground. “I suggest we send a flanking force through there, and take them from two sides at once.”

“No time,” Jaymes retorted after a brief pause. “The ground is too rough for troops; it would take them hours to get into position.”

“Perhaps a reconnaissance up there, my lord?” Weaver suggested.

“No, I cannot accept any delay!” snapped the emperor. “They are ripe for attack now-surely you can see that. We strike at once!”

“Of course, Excellency.”

The two men quickly made their way back to the legion. The skirmishers had deployed in front, with the ranks of the light infantry arrayed behind. Jaymes was pleased to see the three companies of New City men who had been mauled so badly at Apple Ford claimed positions in the center of the line. They would redeem themselves, he knew. The heavy infantry and cavalry formed a third line, with the archers ready close behind.

“I want a general advance!” Jaymes ordered, once again climbing into his saddle. “All infantry units, close in on the double! I want the cavalry ready to charge as soon as I give the words. Go in quietly at first, but as soon as they see you coming, I want you to shout your loudest-break their morale from the very start!”

With a flick of the signalman’s flag, the great lines began to move up and over the moraine, breaking into a trot as they hurried down the smooth, grassy slope on the far side. In a moment they reached the river, the well-drilled units smoothly forming columns to rush across the three log bridges Ankhar had so thoughtfully put in place for them.

Hundreds of men were across the river by the time one of the ogres in the town raised a howling alarm. His cry was answered by the challenge of five thousand human soldiers as the first ranks of Palanthian Legion hurtled into the attack.

The ogres were clearly shocked by the sudden appearance of the army of humans. Many turned to fight, while others simply fled through the streets of New Compound, toward the great plaza along the lake.

“Go!” cried Jaymes, spurring his roan in the lead of the attack. “Cut them down!”

Giantsmiter was in his hand, and he slashed through the face of a foolish ogre who had turned to gape at the unexpected attackers. Arrows flew over the front rank, plunging among the disorganized barbarians. Men split into companies and platoons, charging into buildings where they saw ogres taking refuge. A dozen bulls, some staggeringly drunk, were trapped in a pigsty, and men with spears stood around the fences and stabbed until all of them were dead or dying.

There were no dwarves in view, so Jaymes could only hope they were still behind the stone barricades in the mines. He slew ogres wherever he could find them and cut down a few hobgoblins for good measure. The fierce exultation of battle filled his heart once again, and he was startled by the savage delight he felt. It had been a very long time since he had wielded his blade against a foe.

And where was Ankhar? Reining in just for a moment, allowing the tide of his men to sweep past, the emperor sat his saddle and looked across the melee raging through the town. He would find the enemy commander and make sure he never made war again.

It was a personal matter.

Why not send Bloodgutter’s ogres into fight now? Look! We lose battle!” demanded Bullhorn, frightened enough that he dared to challenge Ankhar’s plan with his question.