Book 7, Chapter 19: No Quarter
Caked in mud, faces blackened by charcoal, Mest, my bodyguards, and I crawled up the riverbank to see the enemy army layout. The ground was wet with moisture, green scents of grass and herbs fragrant in the cool night air. I pushed apart the tall grasses, lifting up just over them. As we guessed, they positioned a few smaller regiments along their sides, spaced out. It was the familiar ten by ten phalanx, a similar sized archer regiment behind them, and lots of space from these guys till the next guys. No cavalry to be seen.
“What are they doing, spread out so thin?” asked a bodyguard, quietly.
Ducking below the bank, I whispered, “Resting their army. Their reinforcements arrive tomorrow and they know it.”
The bulk of their troops were lined up facing the ruined city walls, but back a distance from them, out of longbow range, protecting their camp. Much less than half of their force had been committed. Ergo, they were standing guard in watches. Trading off in thirds, probably, every so often.
They didn’t have fortifications up, having just moved to this location earlier in the day, when they overcame the city walls. A mistake on their part but they were expecting us, with our smaller numbers, to stay on our side of the wall, perhaps thinking we’d shore up the city defenses. Now that they’d lost the city, they hunkered down, waiting for the bulk of their army to arrive. Resting their soldiers was a good idea, setting up as they did also good, and the fortifications they wouldn’t need tomorrow would have taken time to build.
A mistake on their part. I wondered if we’d hurt them more than we thought. And I wondered where their hospital was set up. Anyways, they were right. We could not afford a fully committed frontal assault. Their accurate assumption led to complacency, and we’d do our best to punish them for it. While they had perhaps eight thousand troops ready at the front, we were attacking with everything we had, and that was a little over twenty thousand. Unfortunately, they had twenty thousand or so resting. Too many for us to handle were they all instantly awake and fielded well.
Mazdak had twenty-five rhinos ready, most of our phalanx, archers, skirmishers and peltasts. No cavalry, Serce had taken them. I’d left the general orders to attack straight into their phalanx using the rhinos, with ranged attacking from the sides. Our archers amassed on each side of the ruined city walls, waiting for the right time. They’d rush forward, loosing into the infantry before the main charge was launched, aiming to cause confusion and become the focus of their phalanx.
If we had more rhinos, if we had fresh rhinos . . . and if I still had my powers, this would be simple, and the world would be full of happy children and ponies. Those are wishes for you.
My group, composed of two thousand infantry, the same amount of archers, and one thousand skirmishers, had snuck out the front of the city, making our way along the riverbank so as not to be seen or heard. It’d been slow going, especially as we didn’t carry light sources. The full moon was a blessing, but we still had to be careful.
We’d taken out two scouting parties. Alright, I had. With a longbow, before they saw me. As of yet, the alarm had not been raised. But this many men could not hide long.
I said to the man leading these soldiers, “General Sostram, when you hear us fighting, begin your assault. You need to overcome these regiments quickly and attack their main defense lines from behind.”
“With how few they’ve left here, we’ll make short work of them, ma’am.”
“Good. And then straight into the camp. Don’t let them form up – as long as you can.”
In the moonlight, face determined and grim, he nodded.
Back down by the river, we split up. The skirmishers following me along the riverbank until we reached forest. Much of it remained burnt and I saw more than few soldiers reapplying charcoal. When we’d come fully behind the enemy encampment, we crawled forward, getting as close to their campfires as we could.
Mest whispered, “Horses with each tent. Men sitting outside, near their fires at every third tent.”
“Damn. That’s their alarm then. I don’t think we can do this silently.”
“No, ma’am.”
“We’ll get as close as we can.” I wanted to give further instructions to the troops but had to trust they knew what to do. My job was to blow the horn at the right time. It signaled that, no matter what the soldiers I’d brought with me were doing, they were to get in formation and follow my lead. But first, we’d take their horses and cause as much chaos as possible. After crawling forward as close as I could, I stood up and took out the nearest two with arrows, then loosed on every target I could see.
As they dropped, and our men rose from the grass, racing forward with an unfortunate number of them yelling war cries, shouts of fear and panic from the attacked, the alarm was raised. Quivers empty, I tore them off, dropped my bow and ran forward, engaging anyone near. My time was best spent attacking so that others could mount up.
A man ran out of his tent, stab, another, severed his neck. One ran over to stop me, I stepped past him and he fell to the ground, dying. Mest and her group, running along side me, cutting down surprised men, mounting up, and continuing. A man leapt at me sword raised high, then a dagger into his throat thrown from beside me, and he fell. Another about to get on his horse, I stabbed his belly, and one of ours took the horse.
In the semicircle spreading out before me, the enemy was being overrun. Poorly rested, they emerged from their tents to the slaughter. The life of a skirmisher is short and violent, and our soldiers brought violence into the enemy’s tents. Soon, more than a few bore spears and some, I suspected, stole better armor, too. Many mounted now, attacking on horseback, racing down the line of tents, cutting anyone in their path.
Yet, further down the line of tents, where we had not made it, their cavalry were organizing and mounting up. We had perhaps one fifth their numbers.
Dropping another man, I found myself alone in an ocean of horses, men, and battle. No enemies near, our soldiers taking the fight further into their encampment. Bodies all around, some not yet knowing they were dead, bleeding out and crawling away. We raised their tents, the bright bonfires lighting up the camp and revealing our presence. It was rapidly becoming too dangerous for us to stay.
“Ma’am!” Mest rode up to me, extra horse in tow, “I brought you one.”
“Thank you!” Taking the reins, quickly mounting, I looked around. Most of our troops now had horses, but the fighting continued on the edges, where their men would be organizing. We could not stay to fight, we didn’t have the numbers. I yelled, “Mount up!” and blew the horn long and loud, dropping it to dangle by its leather straps as I prodded the horse into a gallop.
Guiding the warhorse with my knees to better use my blades, I cut down any soldiers in my path, more and more horsemen joined my charge, and I led them toward the ruined city gates. We were going to give our frontline assault every possible advantage. We needed, absolutely needed, to carry it straight into their camp.
Looking over, those I’d left on the river bank had engaged the enemy and were making headway. They far outnumbered what the nuns had positioned there, but our advantage wouldn’t last. Their own alarm horns blaring out into the night, two thirds of their army were now waking, readying and forming up as fast as they could.
We rode through their tents and people, attacking soldiers as they stumbled out of bed, yawning, some rushing, slaying them before they could gather.
Letting the gallop convey the force, I diagonally sliced through a soldier’s neck, smashed the horse into another and, riding over the downed man, cut through another who was racing towards his companions. They broke and fled and scattered and horsemen beside me ran them down. Speed was our only hope, and I meant to use it.
Approaching the front, infantry were quickly lining up to cut us off. Their spears lowered, shields raised, but only four men deep. I veered right of them, toward the archers protecting their main phalanx, as they were the more dangerous to the men carrying out our frontal assault.
The regiments out in front yet had their backs to us. Phalanx front and center, thousands of troops, though this close I couldn’t guess their numbers well. Ranged to each side and we rode for these. Oh but I wished we had those composite recurved bows now!
It was stupid and dangerous and I had no choice, so I blew the horn again as long as I could. Some of the archers looked, many of them pointed, and they did an about face when I was still seconds away from them. Done blowing, I flattened myself against the horse, feeling its muscles bunch up and release, sweat pale in the moonlight, glistening off its coat.
In the faint light, I couldn’t see the arrows but heard them whizzing overhead. My horse jolted several strides before reaching the enemy and I pushed off before it collapsed, hitting the ground in a roll, covering my head just in case someone rode over me, then standing. Horses raced by, kicking mud up as they went. Another of our men went down, and then our new light cavalry punched into the archers, scattering them, horsemen wheeling about to pick them off as they fled.
Our own archers had moved up and had begun loosing on the phalanx. The enemy infantry along the sides faced this onslaught, shield wall up, but some fell.
Thunder boomed over the sounds of fighting and the ground itself trembled as the rhinos reached their full speed, heading straight into the phalanx. Our archers continued marching toward their phalanx, taking full advantage of the upcoming wreckage of their lines.
From the river, our phalanx and ranged support marched in, closing with the outermost tents of the encampment. Yet I couldn’t follow their progress. The enemy cavalry had formed up, were riding on us now, attacking our men who’d fallen, had yet to get a horse, and those caught up in the melee.
Sheathing a sword, I ran toward the nearest enemy archer. He knocked an arrow, I rolled right, came up jumping into him, sword into his neck and he fell, then took his bow and quivers, and began loosing on the incoming cavalry. On the open plains, nowhere to hide or run, I was in real trouble.
I took the lead horseman through his right eye, his friend’s neck on the left, another behind him, arrow into one fell from his saddle, their horses galloping on for a ways, and hundreds still raced toward me. After emptying the quiver, dropping those I could, I turned and ran straight away.
Rhinos crashing into their lines, their phalanx broke in the center, infantry scattering. Our archers loosed and loosed into them before they could regroup, and our front infantry lines raced to meet the enemy in the wake of the beasts, shouting, “For Laemacia!”
I couldn’t tell how our other archery regiment was doing on the other side of melee, but they’d face problems as soon as the enemy organized.
Hoofbeats behind me, catching up. Quick glance behind, four horsemen racing at me, the bulk of their force angling now for our ranged. Damn. I needed grenades.
Almost on me, I side-rolled right, jumping up and drawing my right blade, I cut across the rightmost horseman, turned and whipped knives into two of them who rode past. The last wheeled his horse about, took one look at the fallen, or maybe I was just really ugly, and galloped away to rejoin his fellows.
“Hey,” I said to a freshly riderless mare, “sorry about killing your human. I’ll get you an apple if we survive the fight.” After hopping on, I looked around and found myself alone. “Also,” I leaned low to whisper into her ears, “I’m good friends with Sleipnir, so be nice and you just might meet him.”
Kicking the mare into a gallop, I headed into the tail end of their cavalry and rode my horse so close to another, we almost bumped, I swung my right blade down across the back of his neck but it slid uselessly across his chain. He stabbed at me, so I cut his arm off at the wrist, rode forward and stabbed into the back of the next horseman, wishing I had a spear, slowing my horse to draw out the blade, then into a gallop to catch up to my next target.
Following the rhinos in a wedge formation, our phalanx crashed into their scattered lines, stabbing and stabbing, enlarging the gap. Our horsemen wheeled about, finishing off the enemy ranged on this side of the battle, but our own archers were about to be mowed down by the cavalry charge I was now part of.
Grabbing the horn with my left, I blew and blew, catching the attention of my men. They regrouped, racing to head off this cavalry. It was a bad plan, as we were skirmishers on horses facing spear wielding, regular cavalry. Our archers turned toward the incoming charge, loosing at will.
Sheathing my blade, I threw my remaining knives and the daggers I’d picked up into the enemy. Coming up to one of their fallen, I slowed the horse, took the reins in my right hand, jumped down into a run, picked up his spear and leapt back on the horse. The mare huffed and heaved and we raced on, muscles pulsing with each step.
Their cavalry slowed to engage our own and I took full advantage of that, thrusting the spear into the back of a horseman, neck of another, one’s kidneys, and they yelled at each other, wheeled about, and I was facing far too many.
One charged at me, over hand thrusting. I ducked, moving it past with my left hand, twisting left and speared into him with my right. His attack went limp, I let go of my spear, taking his, bringing it back straight, left hand forward, pushed it into another, and kicked my horse forward into the gap I created.
They turned around, giving chase. My bodyguards raced past me, hitting the enemy head on, and I joined our defense of our archers, attacking and attacking. With space to move, archers loosed point blank into the enemy, and we whittled away at their numbers.
“Ma’am!” yelled Mest, riding near me, stabbing into a man, “you have to stay with us!”
A thrust incoming, I turned my spear slightly left, sliding his attack over my head, pulling my spear hard with my left and pushing with my right, bashed his temple and slowly he slid off his horse. “You’ll have to keep up!”
The rest of my guards caught up, began fighting enemies near me, and I took the moment to assess the battlefield. The river attack had moved beyond the cavalry tents, steadily marching across their camp, no infantry lined up to stall them, but a line of cavalry turning away from them on the other side of the field. They’d cut off the enemy from pursuing us, giving us clear advantage here.
To my right, a rhino bellowed and collapsed, spears sticking out all over its body like a pin cushion. Two of its friends broke forward, crashing a line through their infantry, and I knew their handlers were barely holding on. The main rhino charge slowed, their terrifying horn-blades swinging right and left, and they were almost through the infantry lines.
On this side of the rhinos, our phalanx was perhaps a thousand strong, fewer than a tenth our strength, but they kept up with the rhinos, breaking the enemy phalanx. It meant Mazdak had positioned the bulk of our infantry on our weaker side. That would help our unguarded ranged some, but they were out of sight and I worried.
The few enemy cavalry remaining here were largely in pockets, surrounded, attacked on all sides, and dropping one by one. Many turned, riding hard to get away and some succeeded. We’d all but taken this side of the camp.
Sparse cavalry riding away, infantry one by one turning and fleeing the main assault, our army maneuvered into their remaining organized phalanx. They broke, retreated, and reformed a spear wall just as our rhinos crashed into them, our phalanx lines marching diagonally into theirs. If they couldn’t reform, couldn’t add fresh soldiers quickly, the enemy wouldn’t hold much longer.
Through the mess of soldiers rushing here and there, passing each other, crisscrossing the field, here to shore up their defense, there to flee our attack, the enemy cavalry trying to find a path to the front, I caught sight of their command tents. Took a sharp breath as I saw the woman who had delivered food to my cell after I’d been poisoned by the nuns. She laughed at me for my questions.
I cracked my neck. Loosened my shoulders. Pulled out my waterskin and drank my fill.
Alexander chased Darius around and around Persia, defeating his army again and again. But he never caught Darius. At their last battle, I believe Alex got impatient. After giving the order to attack, he raced across the battlefield with a select, proven group, slashing through all enemy troops that dared stand in his way, heading straight for the emperor.
Darius immediately fled the battle, scrambling into a chariot, pushing the horses to their limit. Alex gave chase, but eventually returned to the battle, helping his men utterly defeat the last of the Persian army.
When he finally caught up to Darius’ last troops, he found the emperor dead at the hands of his fellows. Darius had lost their empire. Later, Alexander honored the man with a full state funeral in the former capital city of Persia.
In a sea of chaos, I was alone.
The women who poisoned me, who stole youth from me, who wanted immortality baked from my bones, who had convinced this army to hunt me down, standing right there.
These women would not be fleeing.
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