Richard Parker - Elsewhere

Gaston watched her go for a moment then turned back to Captain Kerr and Captain Marcum. With the Deutzani threat gone, and Lynndon now under the watch of a mass of civilian soldiers, Marcum insisted on joining up even though his skills on a horse were suspect.

“Sergeant Birdsong can handle Lynndon…I think the town’s days of war are numbered in any case,” Marcum explained, but Gaston did not argue…he was glad to have his oldest friend along for the ride.

“Four thousand!” Gaston exclaimed excitedly… this must be the main contingent of Palmerrio cavalry…if they could surprise them…

“Sergeant! Pull in the patrols…and send another scout up ahead, have him take Sarbeth, and tell Speaker Wynth to join us. We don’t want to get caught unaware,” Gaston ordered. “Let’s move forward carefully…I want to hit them right at dusk.”

The ride across the Plateau was easy and uneventful. The afternoon sky was crowded with puffy white clouds but showed no hint of rain, and a cool breeze was blowing from the north. Scouts from all directions reported the way clear. When they were perhaps a mile out from the wash the column of men and horses came to a stop and Speaker Wynth slowly went through the process of contacting Speaker Sarbeth.

“The Palmerrio are camping down in the wash, spread out to maybe a quarter of a mile; they’re horses are corralled in the center.” Sarbeth reported through the bubble once contact was made. “The wash is perhaps two hundred feet across and relatively shallow, but that the Palmerrio have no scouts on the eastern side…but there are a number of scouts roaming to the west.”

Gaston smiled broadly at Kerr and Marcum. “They are hunting for Gwaynn and the army.”

Kerr smiled back but Marcum just scowled. “Fools for not watching all flanks,” he spat. Marcum had little tolerance for carelessness and stupidity.

“Yes…what threat could possibly come from the east?” Gaston answered sarcastically, his mood growing increasingly bright.

“We attack in three sections,” Gaston said, eager for the fight and suddenly all business. “I’ll take the center; Captain Kerr, you take the right and Marcum will take the left.”

Gaston noticed Captain Kerr’s look of hesitation, and nearly smiled. “Captain Marcum may sit a horse like a whore after a record night, but he’s the best soldier in the cavalry…and that would include me!”

“Yes Sir,” Kerr answered, a touch embarrassed, but he smiled nonetheless.

“I’m no whore,” Marcum grumbled.

“See to Sergeant Pearson,” Gaston replied, reaching out and gripping the older man’s hands firmly. “He’ll show you to your men. We move forward at a walk and wait for my signal to charge…be careful, be quiet.”

The two men looked at one another for a long moment, Marcum wondering at the miracle that created Gaston the man from Gaston the boy. It happened so fast…but then war had a way of speeding up the process.

The Massi lines stretched for nearly a half a mile with only slight gaps between formations, and unbelievably they were still undetected when they increased their speed to a trot. The sun was just kissing the mountains to the west, lighting up the clouds in a spectacular display of reds, purples and oranges. No one noticed. At a half a mile out the trot became a cantor…still no alarm sounded from the enemy camp. Finally, a lone soldier on the eastern bank, looking for a private place to relieve his bladder, spotted the Massi horseman. He shouted a warning but by then the Massi were thundering down toward him at a gallop. And though a moment before the Palmerrio soldier was nearly dancing with need, the urge suddenly left him. He spun and headed rapidly back down the bank, his only thought now was getting to his weapons and climbing on his mount.

The center with Gaston broke instantly into a full out charge, shouting out in triumph and the left and right wings quickly matched the pace. They hit the eastern side of the wash without a single arrow being fired by the enemy and when Gaston himself reached the shallow bank he saw why. Every Palmerrio in sight was running, panic stricken, toward the large herd of horses corralled in the center of the gulley near a small, slowly moving stream. Without hesitation Captain Gaston and the bulk of those in his vicinity instinctively charged the enemy horses. They were the key, deny the Palmerrio their mounts and they were doomed. The Massi knew it and the Palmerrio knew it.

As Gaston and his group charged the enemy horses a few brave Palmerrio still afoot stopped to fight, but they were quickly cut down, lanced or trampled for their bravery and as more and more Massi horseman cleared the bank the fight in the wash became a massacre. The Palmerrio soldiers, like their Massi counterparts were trained to fight on horseback. On foot and taken by surprise, they were disorganized, unprepared and for all practical purposes unable to put up any kind of stiff resistance. However in all battles, no matter how one sided, there is death and injury on both sides, but as the Palmerrio cavalrymen melted into the sand they took surprisingly few Massi with them. It was over before it was completely dark and less than an hour from the charge no Palmerrio was left alive in the wash and very few escaped out into the empty Plateau.

ǂ

“How soon before the Rhondono are ready to sail?” Hothgaard asked through the Speaker Nadler. He needed the siege troops and the engineers of King Donnis even though he thought of the Rhondono’s army as second class.

‘With the support of the Temple Knights, they will be enough,’ the Captain thought.

“We should be ready in three days,” the High King answered, concerned by his Captain’s demeanor. The Captain of the Knights had never asked for aid before, but then they were seldom asked to lay siege to a city alone and without support.

“We?”

“I’ll be coming to Massi as well,” King Mastoc said without a hint of nervousness in his voice.

“That’s not advisable M’lord,” Hothgaard answered, alarmed. “The plains of Massi are still unsecured. The Massi cavalry are roaming about the lands.”

“You have not eliminated them?”

“No M’lord. We cannot lay siege to Manse and ride all over the countryside hunting the Massi rabble,” Hothgaard answered, hoping to placate his King.

“I will be coming,” the King announced confidently. “I will have the entire Rhondono army to protect me until we reach Manse. Massi must fall…quickly.”

“As you wish,” Hothgaard answered and a sudden feeling of dread swept through his body.

“And the siege…it is going well I presume?”

Hothgaard paused, reluctant to tell his King of the recent fiasco. “The defenses are strong, but we nearly breeched the walls this morning. It will not be long before the city is ours.”

“And yet you ask for aid,” came the King’s voice through the ether, the doubt and suspicion plain in his voice.

“The Massi have proven problematic,” Hothgaard answered, only briefly perturbed by the King’s tone.

“Problematic?”

“We’ve lost contact with the Deutzani and the Massi cavalry are exceedingly well trained,” Hothgaard answered.

There was a long silence, one which Captain Hothgaard eventually broke.

“Which is why I would advise you to stay on the King’s Island.”

“I’ll be leaving in three days…with the Rhondono army,” the King answered adamantly. “I would appreciate better news upon my arrival.”

Hothgaard shrugged but only his Speaker could see the gesture.

“We’ll make another attempt to breech the walls of Manse in two days time. If we are successful the city should be in our hands before you land,” he answered.