Joel Shepherd - Haven

“No!” Sofy was insisting loudly. “Dismantle the fence-you can't fit all these wagons through that gate. Bring the fence down and then you can move as many wagons as you like back and forth, otherwise we'll never move wounded as fast as they arrive!”

She was about to go on to the next trouble spot when she saw him. And smiled with a delight that set his heart to thumping, even despite all the thumping it had just done for different reasons. She trotted quickly over.

“I heard they were magnificent!” she said.

“Lenayin's finest hour,” said Jaryd. “Pity Koenyg wasn't there to be part of it.”

Sofy's eyes fell, and she swallowed. Jaryd regretted he'd said it. “You're well?” she asked, recovering quickly.

“I'm well, Damon too, most of his friends. Casualties quite light, all things considered, but still too high.”

“Better than it could have been,” said Sofy, with feeling. Jaryd nodded. “Jaryd…”

“I know,” he said, and smiled. He wanted to kiss her, but she looked so busy, and there were wounded all around. She had done this kind of thing before, and with her authority, she could make things happen. “You take care.”

“And you,” she said. “Is Sasha…?”

“She's fine. Don't worry about us, Sofy. You save some lives.”

Sofy nodded with determination, spun her horse, and cantered off to supervise more arrivals. Jaryd looked around.

A steady stream of wounded continued to arrive, many of them on horseback. Jaryd saw a serrin man with two Lenays balanced on his horse, and three Lenay infantry, big, ferocious-looking men, one of whom carried a small serrin woman with a wounded leg. So many stories, he thought. So many hopes, friendships, and tragedies, unfolding upon these lands. He imagined the Army of Lenayin, marching triumphant back to their homeland, with a number of serrin wives accompanying them. A few serrin women at least might find the idea appealing…provided their new husbands promised them lives filled with more than that of a traditional Lenay wife. And he imagined himself, arriving back in his homeland, a new noble title to his name and with Sofy in a saddle beside him.

Jaryd sighed, shook his head to clear it of unnecessary thoughts, and cantered off to the path along the wall, and his army beyond.

The Ilduuri were running back up the slope. Exhausted, some half-carrying wounded comrades, they struggled and strained up the grassy hill, around rocky outcrops and charred trees. Arrows streaked up and into them, lower velocity on the upward arc, but still fast enough to pierce exposed flesh and mail. Running men fell, and were helped up by comrades, but the Regent's men were pursuing behind, and those in the rear were fighting a desperate rearguard.

“Lowest slope!” Sasha yelled at her archers. “Let nothing fall short!” Arrows streaked away, and then fell, a long, fast plummet toward the bottom of the slope. “Yasmyn, get back to the artillery and tell them to fire only at the lowest slope, nothing falls short!”

Yasmyn galloped off. Sasha did not trust the trumpet now to call artillery-its notes did not allow for enough precision, and she was desperate to avoid killing her own men with those terrible weapons.

A new, whistling, thudding noise drew her attention back down the slope. Ballistas by the Ipshaal River were firing uphill. They could not elevate enough to hit the ridge, but their bolts were streaking by the score straight into her struggling, retreating men who were now approaching midslope. She saw them hit, smashed, and pinned into the turf, armour and all. She saw men trying to retrieve fallen comrades, only to find them literally stuck to the ground. The screams were a horror, and she could see their faces, eyes up toward the ridge, desperate to reach that safety.

And now, at midslope but further to the right, clustered beneath their shields for protection from Ilduuri archers, a large mass of Bacosh soldiery was preparing to hit those climbing men from the side.

“Captain Dalen!” she yelled. “Form another three companies and sweep down this ridge! Clear those scum off our mountain!”

Captain Dalen rushed to do that. Some fast orders and men sprinted from amongst the ridgeline trees to make new lines. More ballista fire tore into the retreating party. They were not nearly so fast now as on their morning runs. The Ilduuri Steel were tough and talented, yet they had not seen heavy battle in a long while, and perhaps had not realised that fast manoeuvres in training, and fast manoeuvres after heavy fighting were completely different things.

With a roar, the new Ilduuri line went over the edge and plunged down the slope. Archers sent arrows whistling ahead of them as Bacosh soldiers appeared from cover and tried to make a line. On the downslope, against Ilduuris desperate to cover their comrades, they had little chance. Still some of the Bacosh line was engaging the climbing Ilduuris, exhausted men fighting hard just to get through, until their comrades arrived and sent the Regent's soldiers fleeing down to the bottom.

They clashed too with the soldiers who pursued them, forming a rearguard that was fresh and full of fight. Heavy clashes followed, lines of Ilduuri men repelling great waves of Bacosh soldiers, and killing many with the great advantage of skill, armour, and height. Finally, the artillery was resuming, first ballista fire spattering across the lower slope, and then the blinding flashes of hellfire.

Retreating Ilduuris made the ridge and collapsed to hands and knees, gasping for air. Comrades helped them, and moved them back into the trees so they did not block the way for others coming up. Some came up wounded, helped by friends, some with arrows sticking through legs or arms, and some with worse. Sasha remained out of their way, doing some rough counting. Downslope, Bacosh men were falling back fast. As they did so, Bacosh artillery resumed firing at their newly available targets-the second wave of Ilduuri soldiers now at midslope. More were hit, with brutal force.

“Trumpeter!” Sasha yelled. “Full retreat, get them back up here!”

The exhausted, battered Ilduuris looked dejected. They'd overrun several ballistas and a catapult, but had been unable to do much damage before the Regent's forces had overwhelmed them. Dead crews would be replaced, and little would change. Now those same ballistas were killing their friends.

Sasha leaped down from her horse and walked amongst them, whacking shoulders and shields with fierce appreciation.

“Magnificent!” she told them, moving from one man to the next. “Brave as all hells! Formidable soldiering, Lenayin could not have done better!”

“We failed you,” a sergeant mumbled, face streaked with sweat and blood.

“You failed no one!” Sasha shouted for all to hear. “You gave them a fucking thrashing. I see their blood all over your swords and shields! It is my fault. I gave you an impossible task and still you nearly pulled it off! You are heroes, each and every one!”

It seemed to have some effect, as men sat to rest, and drink, and check on their friends. Sasha continued walking amongst them, determined to put a hand on as many shoulders and a word of encouragement in as many ears as possible. Now the second rank began returning, some of them wounded, and she walked amongst them as well.

A lieutenant came to her, having made a more precise count. “Six hundred and thirteen missing,” he said quietly. “Another hundred and five too wounded to fight.” Nearly all of those in the first wave, he did not need to say. “Captain Arken is amongst the missing, several say they saw him fall.”

Sasha kept her face stony calm. “Get the wounded to the rear, and put the first wave survivors in reserve for now, they deserve a rest.”