Joel Shepherd - Tracato

“I dislike fighting Sasha’s fights for her,” Errollyn continued, unbothered, “but she can be stubborn in her Lenay honour. If she won’t do it, I will. Stay away from her. Or better yet, next time, come at her with a weapon in hand, I dare you.”

“Friend Errollyn,” Reynold sighed, getting one foot carefully beneath him, and making to stand. “I can see why your people have disowned you. Truly, you leap to unfounded conclusions, and you come to violence as your first resort. How you must alarm the gentle serrinim.”

“I’m a scholar, Reynold,” said Errollyn. “Like you. I learn my subjects well. I learn how they respond, and what motivates them best. It is my scholarly judgement that if you touch Sasha again, one of us will gut you like a fish.”

He kicked Reynold in the stomach, and the man went down again. Errollyn left him lying there, as cooks rushed to assist. Disconcertingly, despite the obvious pain, Reynold only seemed more amused.

O N THE HILL ABOVE THE SHALLOW VALLEY, Rhillian sat ahorse and watched the prelude to battle. From here, behind the Rhodaani Steel’s right flank, she could see nearly everything. A small river ran across the fields below, and in front of her, on the far side of the river, she saw a small castle on a hill. No more than a minor holding-it was held, she’d heard, by a lord named Herol, a bannerman to the northern Lord Arendt. Here, upon the long slope before the castle walls, the Army of Elisse, beneath Lord Arendt commanding, had chosen to make its stand.

The Elissian Army was enormous. Scouting talmaad with a better eye for such things estimated their numbers at between twenty-two and twenty-five thousand. They bristled across the hillside. Banners flew, denoting each minor formation’s allegiances in the many colours of feudal heraldry.

Rhillian could see why Arendt had chosen this place to stop running. For one thing, it was barely north of the coastal city of Vethenel, and squarely on a major route of supply. If the Steel took these roads and lands, Vethenel would be blockaded and, more importantly, would no longer be able to resupply the army. Also, most of the lords remaining were of the northern peninsula, and to not make a stand here would be to abandon many castles to incineration. But, mostly, what made this a good place to fight was the terrain.

The Elissian Army occupied a slope, up which the Steel must advance, in heavy armour. The castle made a good vantage, from which the battle could be directed. And at the base of the slope ran the river, which the Steel would need to ford, directly into the teeth of Elissian archers and charging knights. The Rhodaani Steel numbered nine thousand, as the third battalion under Captain Pieron had been the first to encounter the Elissian position here, and send word to the first battalion under General Zulmaher. The fifth battalion under Captain Malisse had not yet arrived, but was known to be two days’ march to the east. Rhillian headed barely more than six hundred of her three thousand talmaad in Elisse-the rest were scattered across the lands behind, guarding supply lines, making certain newly sworn lords kept their oaths, gathering supplies and putting down minor revolts.

Surely Lord Arendt was feeling as confident as was possible of any commander, facing an army of the Steel. He had the favour of numbers, by three to one. He had the favour of the land, particularly the river. General Zulmaher was attempting a quick victory, and could not waste days or weeks attempting to outflank the retreating Elissians in manoeuvre after manoeuvre, seeking a more suitable place for battle. Arendt could retreat all the way up the peninsula if he chose, never fighting a decisive battle, and cost the Rhodaani Steel another month at the least. If Zulmaher wished to defeat the Elissian resistance on the field, he had no choice but to do it here.

Trumpets rang across the valley, shouts followed, in unison, and the Rhodaani Steel began its advance. Rhillian could hear the armoured clatter, even from this distance. Six thousand infantry, arranged in three formations of two thousand each. Each two thousand comprised of twenty squares of a hundred, in two lines of ten, one thousand men per line. The formations were precise in their geometry. Rhillian wondered how many of those serrin scholars who insisted that nothing of war could ever be beautiful, had ever seen the Rhodaani Steel in battle.

“Here we are,” said Arendelle, pointing across the river. “The cavalry musters.” The Elissians had been holding back their cavalry, presumably to keep Zulmaher guessing, but there had been little doubt as to Arendt’s intentions. The best Elissian cavalry was heavy, and Rhillian’s guess was that a quarter of these cavalry were knights. Downslope, headlong into the centre of the Rhodaani formation, they could break even a line of the Steel. Flanking would serve no purpose, for the talmaad worked on the flanks, on faster horses mounted with serrin archers, who did unfair, unchivalrous things like shooting unarmoured horses from under the knights’ steel backsides.

Now, as Rhillian watched, cavalry were pouring down the hillside between formations of footsoldiers. Before the front ranks, they were forming.

“Signalman,” Rhillian called, “if you please. Call to our talmaad to prepare.”

The trumpeter was a tall, skinny Rhodaani boy, lent to her for the occasion by General Zulmaher. The boy raised his long horn, and blew a clear, high melody.

“That’s very pretty,” Aisha remarked, steadying her anxious mount with one hand, her bow in the other.

“Thank you, M’Lady,” said the nervous young man. He seemed far more nervous of serrin women than men, Rhillian thought. Well, perhaps she should have forbade Eli and Sairen from trying to get him drunk and bedded last night. To the best of her knowledge, the lad had not succumbed. Which was still a pity, she thought now, watching the army advance toward the river. It would not do for any man or woman to die a virgin, and this lad certainly looked it.

From the rear of the Rhodaani formation, Rhillian could see her talmaad now galloping in two groups, three hundred to each flank. Arendt would see that, and have his conviction to go through the centre reinforced. Rhillian wondered if he would also note the artillery line moving up behind the infantry, and grasp its significance. Most feudal commanders rarely did. The great crossbow arms of two-stack ballistas bounced as the carts upon which they rode trundled forward, pulled by horse or oxen.

Of the nine thousand assembled men, fully a thousand were artillerymen. Each of the infantry formations was backed by fifteen cart-mounted ballista, and five catapults-for forty-five ballista and fifteen catapults in all. Usually, in forces equipped with such weapons, the artillery remained behind with the command and reserve. Here, the artillery advanced, while the thousand-strong reserve, of eight hundred foot and two hundred cavalry, remained behind. It was a great risk if the battle turned against the Steel. But General Zulmaher did not expect to lose.

The right-flank formation reached the river a little before the centre and left, and waded in past the broken screen of trees. Serrin riders had already tested its depth, braving occasional arrowfire to gallop through the waters, returning to assure all that at its deepest, it would be barely above a soldier’s waist. Before the front rank of Elissian infantry, the cavalry line appeared to be nearing completion.

“How many cavalry, do you think?” Rhillian asked Arendelle. There were ten of them here, atop the shallow hill, all serrin save for the signalman. Enough to guard against sneaking scouts and outriders who sought to flank them, and ambush in the rear.