Authors: Joel Shepherd
She found herself at the rear-left flank, riding hard amidst her vanguard and stragglers, closest to the river as her ragged formation fled before her. Clods of earth flew and pelted about like rain, the grass torn black by hooves. On the slope, Banneryd cavalry were cutting closer to the Ymoth wall, flying at great speed as their ranks divided, individual riders backing their horses to catch their fleeing quarry. Suddenly there was an armourless rider in her vision, dark grey hair flying, riding no hands with a huge bow drawn across his body, aiming back behind his right shoulder. Errollyn, and surely an impossible shot amidst the lurching confusion, the raining debris and the fact that she'd picked him for a right-hander, not a left…he fired, and a Banneryd rider fell with the shaft precisely through his unarmoured neck. If Sasha hadn't seen it with her own eyes, she'd never have believed it possible. Errollyn drew another arrow from his hip quiver, balanced the bow upon his horse's neck as they cleared another fence, straightened, drew, and fired all in one motion. Another Banneryd rider fell, clutching his neck.
The front Banneryd riders were closing on several straggling dussieh, yelling furiously, swords brandished in eager anticipation. So intent were they that they did not pause to ponder why their quarry, which had approached in such a wide formation, now allowed themselves to stretch in a narrow line close to the river. Nor did they look at the archers on the walls, no longer shooting but waving frantically, gesturing to something ahead that they could see, but their riders could not. Those closest to the wall did see, their view ahead clear. Perhaps they yelled warning, but in the roar of the charge, little could be heard.
Captain Tyrun's main formation tore past Sasha's retreating feint with a howling battle cry, a massed blur of horses and flashing swords by Sasha's right, smashed into the unsuspecting Banneryd pursuit. Behind them, Sasha's formation was now wheeling, doubling back for a second time. Some of those Banneryd in closest pursuit broke off immediately to help their brethren. Others continued, intent on the kill…Sasha wove to the right, trying to catch one on the blindside, only for Errollyn to shoot him off his horse. A rider with steel-blue hair beheaded another in passing, and then there were horses on all sides crisscrossing, weaving and reversing madly.
Sasha barely missed colliding with one of her own, spurred Peg fast around one falling, rolling horse and saw a Banneryd rider cut two of her men from their saddles in quick succession. Another came thundering at her and she spurred Peg onto his backhand, thinking to duck and cut low…an arrow buzzed from nowhere and upended that man too from his horse. There was confusion, beasts and men rolling underfoot, screams and yells, whinnies and clashing steel. Ahead, a Banneryd rider fought a Goeren-yai saddle-to-saddle…the northerner parried and slashed with superior skill, spurring his horse at a vital moment and killing the Goeren-yai with a reverse cut.
And lost his head a moment later as the blue-haired rider reappeared, then reined around to gesture madly at Sasha. “This way!” the serrin named Tassi yelled. It seemed as good a direction as any, so Sasha followed as Tassi plunged ahead, weaving between battling riders…and there suddenly was tall Terel, intervening in one contest to cut another Banneryd from his saddle. Sasha slashed at another in passing, but was parried, and galloped on regardless.
Abruptly, she was clear, following Terel and Tassi across an open paddock near the river. They leaped a fence, Sasha looking about to find Errollyn directly behind (how long had he been
there
?), three of her vanguard riders close behind him, and here now on the left was little blonde Aisha, a bloody blade in her hand, watching that great, sprawling mass of men and horses for possible threats. Four Banneryd riders came tearing directly at them, angling across in front to intercept Tassi's lead. Tassi pointed her sword at them, as a galloping rider might casually indicate a troublesome rock to her trailing comrades.
Errollyn shot the leader, the other three swerving about him as he came off, bounced, then dragged with a foot in the stirrups. Aisha then dashed toward them in a burst of speed, as Terel turned more sharply from the lead. One of the three was already separated from his comrades, and now conceded Terel's superior angle, reining wider…and directly into Aisha's path, slashing as she cut past behind, the Banneryd clutching a half severed arm. The other two raced at Tassi. Errollyn shot one through the side and Tassi cut behind the other, galloping up on his far side, then swerving away when he tried to backhand at her head. Both cleared the next fence, and the surviving Banneryd tried to close once more on Tassi…and did not see little Aisha now racing up on his blind side, until it cost him his head. Sasha passed the Banneryd with the wounded arm as he tried to pull aside, but her vanguard were not so merciful, and killed him in passing.
They cleared another fence and then cut between a riverside farmhouse and the riverbank poplars, leaves whipping at Sasha's face. Upon the left, what remained of the Banneryd main force was falling back, spurring madly up the slope down which they'd charged. Archers fired sporadically from the walls, fearing to hit their own men. Others were breaking clear of the fight—great, untouched ranks of men, galloping wide for space in which to pursue the fleeing northerners, and Sasha's heart soared to see so many unscathed. Her plan trap had worked.
Tassi slowed a little to let Sasha catch up, and they curved away from the river toward the slope. Peg was tiring now, his black flanks frothing white with sweat, but at full gallop he still closed the gap to Tassi's horse in little time. One of Sasha's vanguard still had his royal banner flying and Sasha turned to wave him forward. Already, others of her men were seeing, pointing and then yelling to companions, urging them to follow.
“We must stay close on their heels!” Errollyn yelled as he came alongside. “It will hinder their archers if our lead arrives amidst their stragglers!”
Some racing riders gained on the fleeing Banneryd, and hacked them from the saddle. A group of northerners peeled away, spurring desperately for the rocky treeline and some safety…Errollyn calmly shot one from his saddle and reloaded with the air of a man picking off straw targets. The victim's comrades wheeled about in panic to see such accuracy…Errollyn shot another with a thud that fairly catapulted the man from his saddle, and the remaining pair were slashed and hacked by six racing Goeren-yai as they pelted past. Sasha could not resist sparing Errollyn an incredulous look. He hadn't missed yet…or not that she'd seen. Perhaps he couldn't.
The incline culminated in an uneven line of pines. Within those pines, beyond the racing horses ahead, Sasha could see a row of sharpened stakes driven into the ground—a typical defence against cavalry. Archers were firing through those stakes as the first men of the column arrived…some fell, others reined about in panic, but fire was sporadic as Banneryd and rebel horsemen mixed, the retreating with the advancing. Dussieh riders spurred their little mounts straight for the rifts in the treeline where water runoff made a rocky cleft and the line of spikes faltered. Further to the right flank, Sasha saw a line of such horsemen racing for the stream there, splashing through shallow water to run upon the rocky stream bed, where surely no great warhorse could hold his footing.
A tangled mass of horses reeled amidst trees and spikes—Banneryd cavalry now trapped against their own defences and fighting for their lives, rebel cavalry seeking a way through, others dismounting to hack at the wooden stakes and make a path while dodging the thrusts of Banneryd infantry spears from the other side. In several places, Sasha saw defences had been left open for the Banneryd cavalry to retreat, and those now dissolved into a mass of fighting, hacking men and thrashing horses, as massed infantry tried to prevent any breakthrough whilst admitting their own through the gap.
She, the serrin and her three men of the vanguard wove past milling, circling horsemen, dodging past the first trees and wincing at the occasional hiss of arrowfire. Past the row of stakes, Sasha caught glimpses of dussieh riders now behind the lines, wheeling and hacking at infantry, who broke formation to face the new threat at their rear…the defenders had not bet on the agility of little dussieh while planning their defences. More were streaming up a narrow rift ahead, an incredible sight, as long-haired Goeren-yai spurred their wiry little animals across rocks, steep sides and tangled undergrowth.
Sasha pointed with her sword, and saw Errollyn nod. They wheeled downslope for a run-up as the two stakes nearest the rift came down…other horsemen were already spurring toward it, yelling as they went, as those waiting jostled for position to make their own charge. Sasha yelled for them to make way, and men did so, looking around in startlement as they realised who it was. Sasha dug in her heels and sent Peg racing, the serrin close behind. She saw infantry on her left fighting madly to close the gap, more rebels circling back to stop them, a dussieh going down screaming under spear and sword thrust…
Peg hurtled up the slope and rushed over the broken defensive stumps, Sasha then turned him left amidst the trees in a wide circle, realising immediately that the best way to defend the breach was to outflank the men trying to close it and cut them to pieces. From this side of the stakes, she could see the mass of infantry building against perhaps thirty of her horsemen, who wheeled and circled, swinging furiously as the foot soldiers tried to overwhelm them, bringing down several. She accelerated to top speed, weaving narrowly past the sides of trees…an arrow felled one infantryman in front, the others scattering as the massive black warhorse crashed through. Sasha slashed from side to side, more in hope of creating confusion than clean kills, reining Peg about before the stakes, lashing and kicking. Then the serrin were in amongst it, all save Errollyn, who held back and felled any infantryman who threatened a blindside swing at his comrades.
A horn was blowing somewhere above the screaming, yelling and crashing, and then the infantry were falling back, attempting to maintain some kind of order, officers screaming at those who panicked and tried to run. They retreated along the line of pikes, dodging behind trees to avoid cavalry attacks—they had shields, a most un-Lenay device amongst foot soldiers, and they used them to form an armoured perimeter where they could.
Sasha spurred Peg into another run, headed upslope once more through the trees, searching for any sign of a second defensive line that might fall upon them from beyond…there seemed to be none. It seemed that three thousand men were not enough to hold Ymoth without its wall complete—these sloping flanks were too wide to allow a sufficiently strong first line, plus a secondary line. The defenders had gambled on a strong first line, and lost.
She'd won, the astonishing thought occurred to her in that instant. Bad defensive strategy, perhaps…fortuitous offensive strategy, certainly. But a victory, all the same. Yet men were still dying. She had to end it fast.
“Get to the town!” she yelled at the top of her voice, waving her sword for attention. She reined up a little as her vanguard flagbearer caught up, attracting attention once more…and hopefully not from surviving Banneryd archers. “Get to Ymoth! To Ymoth! Take the town!”
She raced through the trees as fast as she dared, other horsemen now breaking away from their engagements to follow—and that trickle became a flood. Rocks and undergrowth confused their passage in places, breaking the smooth carpet of pine needles. Finally, the land fell away into a sloping shoulder where the trees became thin, with ferns and bush holding thickly to the slopes. At the bottom of the shallow valley ran a stream. Downstream, where the valley sides diminished, was another row of stakes, manned by a defensive line of infantry in a wide half circle.
Here
was the second line, encircling Ymoth where the stone wall would have continued if the Udalyn had had a few more years to complete it. The fallback line, for disasters such as this. If the Banneryd had no place to fall back to, they were surely finished.
Already there were dussieh-riders pouring off the slope and along the little valley side, pelting at a pace that no warhorse rider would have dared along sloping ground. Archers fired, and several fell, or had horses shot from beneath them, plunging head-over-saddle into the turf, but the others wove past undeterred. Ragged, running infantry were rushing to the fallback line from left and right flanks, some staggering and wounded, sliding through the gaps between stakes…and Sasha's eyes widened as she realised that those gaps, although tight enough to deter a warhorse, were barely enough to stop a dussieh.
Dussieh riders attacked the gaps between those sharpened points fearlessly, tearing into the thin defensive lines, cutting men down, then charging past the first houses of upslope Ymoth to hit the opposite defences from behind. Infantry abandoned the second line perimeter to intercept, creating space for other approaching riders to dismount and begin hacking through the stakes. And now, from the opposing side, riders of Captain Akryd's assault were pouring down the slope. Stakes came down in several places and warhorses and dussieh charged through, their riders swinging at any footsoldier foolish enough to try and stop them.
Sasha splashed along the streamside at a trot, watching the rout unfold and searching for her own way through, when Errollyn partially blocked her way. “No Sashandra,” he said, holding a hand out. “You've done enough. You'll only present some beaten Banneryd crossbowman with a grand target with which to redeem his honour. Your men know what to do, let them do it.”
Banneryd infantry still trying to reach the cover of town buildings were cut down as they ran, bodies tumbling bloodily down the stream-side slope. Further back along the flanks, the sounds of fighting continued, although drowned by the thunder of hooves and the triumphant yells of riders. Yet more riders poured through the ever-widening gaps in the defenses, an endless stream of mounted soldiery racing into Ymoth. Errollyn was right, Sasha realised. She was the commander. Now she had to know what the casualties were upon Captain Akryd's flank. The battle for Ymoth may have been won, but there was a long way to go yet.