Joel Shepherd - Tracato

Andreyis was frightened. He’d been frightened before, at the Battle of Ymoth. But there, he’d been ahorse, and facing a known enemy. Today, he stood shoulder to shoulder in a mass of Lenay warriors, and heard the sounds of battle draw closer. He could see little above the heads and helms of the ranks before him, but the thunder of cavalry was everywhere. He had no idea how the battle went, save that it drew closer, and louder, by the moment. He’d heard it said often enough that the cavalry would need to win through in the opening phases, and harry or destroy the Enoran artillery, for the Army of Lenayin to have a chance of winning. Yet from ahead, he could smell smoke, and see regular flashes of fire, mostly off to the flanks.

“They’ve shifted their artillery to the flanks,” said Teriyan at his side. “It won’t come down so hard on us then.”

“Just get ready to run,” Byorn said grimly, hefting his shield on one muscular arm. “When they get within artillery range, we’re going to need to run like the wind to close on their infantry. The closer we get, the less the artillery can hit us.”

They could not go now, Andreyis knew; they had to wait, hoping that the cavalry could turn a flank. About him, men practically bounced on the spot, armour and all, as tense as cats. They were a mixture, these Valhanans-some from Baerlyn, others from surrounding townships, others still from places Andreyis had not heard of. He could only see several other Baerlyners besides Teriyan and Byorn, as all had decided that, in the face of the reputed effects of Enoran artillery, it would not do to have entire villages standing clustered together.

“Ready!” came a yell from the distant front. “Ready!” echoed headmen, and appointed militia officers deeper through the ranks. A war chant started, the location uncertain, but Andreyis had never heard its like before.

“ HEEL -Chun, GOER -Rhun! HEEL -Chun, GOER -Rhun!” As with most old Lenay war chants, the tongue was forgotten and largely extinct…but the words sounded like glory, blood and ancient spirits. Andreyis realised it was a tsalryn , a battle cry only to be uttered in war, and unknown by any who had not fought in one. Andreyis’s skin flushed hot and cold all over. This was the first time he’d heard a tsalryn . Soon they were all yelling, and the noise was like nothing else in the world. It drowned out all the battle, all the world. Warriors beat shields with swords for accompaniment, roaring like men possessed. Andreyis felt his fear fade, swept aside by an intoxication of rage and power.

He did not hear the ballista fire, but he could see it, dark streaks against the clouds. It rained down across the Lenay formation, but none struck near. Men broke off their chants to howl their derision. If that was the famed Enoran artillery, it would have to become a lot worse to frighten the Army of Lenayin. The front ranks began to move, space rippling through the formation until Andreyis himself was moving, no more than a walk. It accelerated to a jog, and then to a run, warriors still chanting, gripping their shields, eyes on the sky for more ballista fire. The force of their momentum seemed unstoppable. Ballista bolts rained about, to little effect. This was the Army of Lenayin, the most formidable warriors in all Rhodia, charging en masse, fearless and devastating. Andreyis felt invincible, and had to fight the urge to sprint madly ahead of his position, so desperately did he lust for an enemy to swing at, to hack, to maim and slaughter.

Something flashed to his left, bright and hot. Another roar from the warrior horde, and the run increased to a mad sprint. Another flash, then another… Andreyis saw objects soaring across the sky, flames rippling, leaving trails of black smoke like stars falling to earth. One soared straight overhead, and impacted some distance behind him, but close enough that he could feel heat. He ran now in a jostling crush, sword arm held close to his side so that he did not involuntarily cut his neighbours. His shield arm felt heavy, his breath beginning to labour. The artillery range of the Enoran Steel was no inconsiderable distance to run in full armour…surely it could not be much further?

Ballista fire increased, like a light rain shower suddenly erupting into a cloudburst of hailstones. Men fell, in front and to the side… Andreyis ducked in sudden fear as one whistled just overhead. The thud of bolts hitting the turf resonated like a drumbeat. Andreyis hurdled a fallen man, his wooden shield pinned to his chest by a bolt that was protruding from his back.

A burning ball streaked to ground not thirty paces to the right, followed by an impossible, eye-burningly bright flash. In that mesmerised moment, time seemed to slow, and Andreyis saw the billowing orange flames actually double, then triple and quadruple their size and intensity, rather than fading. They thrust out greedily, an avalanche of fire, roaring through clustered, running men, engulfing them.

He did not see the next catapult shot coming until the entire world before him transformed to molten fire. He fell, to see the wall of flame coming right at him, blotting out the world. Heat seared his skin, singed his eyebrows, filled his ears with a ghastly sound like a fire demon on eagles’ wings. And then it was gone, and the world was full of ash and cinders, black smoke and the screams of men. He stumbled to his feet, and saw men on fire, rolling on the ground, thrashing in agony. A Goeren-yai’s long hair and beard had gone up like a torch, a ball of flame now engulfing his head.

A hand grabbed his arm. “Move!” Teriyan bellowed. “If we stay here we’re dead!” He hauled Andreyis forward, through the circle of blackened, burning grass and flaming corpses. The smell was appalling, acrid, and burned his lungs. At the circle’s far side, men helped survivors to sit, pouring water on wounds…one was hit by a ballista bolt through the back, smashed into the turf and pinned like a bug.

Andreyis stumbled on after Teriyan, aware that the charge continued, Lenay men pouring forward like the tide. And now, ahead, there was an advancing, silver line of shields, helms and armour. Spears flew from behind the front line, and more Lenay men fell, or took entangling spikes through their shields. Andreyis ran at them, knowing only that the closer he came to the Steel infantry, the less the chance of being burned alive.

He dodged aside a flying spear, found a gap on the battle line and flung himself onto it, using the weight of his momentum to drive the Enoran soldier back a step. His neighbour pulled his shield aside to stab with the short Enoran sword, but Andreyis was ready, having drilled many times for precisely that event. He angled his shield sideways, driving down on the thrust, and slashed back for the man’s head. The Enoran ducked, and Andreyis’s strike smashed off his shield rim. The Enoran Andreyis had run into recovered his place in line, and the shield line attempted to advance. Andreyis backed off enough to gain space, and flashed a low blow to get under the shield. It was blocked, and he reversed immediately to a high overhead. Again the Enoran ducked his head away in time as Andreyis’s edge struck the shield’s high edge, but this time a space opened between him and his left-hand neighbour. Andreyis thrust his blade through it, catching that man’s arm. He faltered with a yell, the shield dropped a fraction, and Andreyis’s partner leaped high to drive a blade down over the shield rim, straight through the Enoran’s throat.

The next Enoran behind leapt over the fallen man to fill his space, but Andreyis’s partner stepped in, using his shield to protect him on one side, hacking at the next man in line to the other. That man went down, and the line faltered. A whistle blew shrilly above the roar and clashing, and the front rank turned abruptly sideways and melted into the gaps between the ranked soldiers behind. Andreyis found himself facing a new, fresh soldier.