Breaking an Empire (9 page)

Rhyfelwyr’s thoughts continued in that vein for many hours, and his face was pensive when the tents went up that evening. Locsyn and Taflen saw the expression and exchanged glances, knowing full well what it meant. Everyone in the squad had that look at times, even Llofruddiwr, although with him it was hard to tell what it meant. The two of them grabbed Gwyth and went to find a fire to drink at, leaving the sergeant to his thoughts. The assassin, as usual, was nowhere to be found.

***

Nights passed in thick profusion, until Glanhaol Fflamboethi stood but a few days outside the walls of Niam Liad. Officers tripled patrols, although they were less patrols than raiding parties. With the information from Llofruddiwr, some patrols went north, looking for the army that came behind. Reports arrived from the scouts, confirming what the assassin had guessed: Niam Liad was occupied by archers and airmages, and to the north lay the great mass of the Lianese. The Veryan army settled down and dug a small fortress, building fortifications atop a hill while the officers sat in conference and argued strategy. The debate lasted many hours, and it was early in the morning of the next day when Rhocas arrived, bearing orders for Rhyfelwyr and his squad.

“Come back to us at last, have you?”

Rhocas shook his head. “Other way around. Your squad and a few more have been assigned to keep me and some other mages safe. Mostly from archers and Lianese mages, or as a last reserve. We head for Niam Liad today.”

Rhy nodded. He’d known they would go for the city first. That was the mistake the Lianese had made, thinking they could kill the Veryan soldiers before the city was destroyed. Their army might destroy Glanhaol Fflamboethi afterward, but Niam Liad would be a ruin. “Burning?”

“To the ground.” Rhocas departed, to gather the other squads that would join with him. The squad packed their belongings, readying themselves for march. Tomorrow would be quite a day.

***

The next morning saw the whole army on the move. The scouts were pulled in tight, within shouting distance of the main corps. There was no reason to lose soldiers, not now. The firemages were spread amongst the army, little knots here and there, spaced well apart so that the airmages of Niam Liad could not strike them all down.

The land around Niam Liad was rolling plains and moors, grasslands once full of grain and cattle, but now burned to the ground. The ash crunched underfoot, as not quite burned stalks shattered and broke. Taflen wondered at the significance of marching to war on a bed of ash, and thought someday he would have to write on the matter. Today was not that day, and he gripped his shield tight, looking over the rim at the sweeping expanse of city before him. He could feel the strong breath of the wind, and a tang in the air that had to be the salt from the sea, and he wondered at the Lianese love of archery in such a windy clime.

Glanhaol Fflamboethi shifted its formation, changing from column to line abreast, facing Niam Liad. Atop the ramparts distant, Locsyn could see dancing pennants and deadly soldiers, each preparing in their own way for the day to come. Despite the consistent failings of the Lianese soldiers, he thought they might have a trick or two up their sleeves. Looking towards the city, Locsyn could see a series of brown patches cut into the earth, making a ring about the walls. They were range markers, and when the Veryan soldiers crossed that line, they could expect to be showered with arrows. Further in, there were more marks, and those must designate the javelins.

The horn sounded once, then twice, and the Veryan soldiers moved forward at a slow march, shields high and facing to the fore. The Lianese watched them come, and upon the battlements they readied their bows, placing quivers against the crenellations and waiting for the order to fire. Glanhaol Fflamboethi strode closer, pride stiffening the posture of all the soldiers within her, until they stopped a hundred yards outside the archery marks. Another horn sounded, and the mages turned their thoughts inwards, gathering strength for the first attack. The battle paused for a moment, until the first of the giant fireballs arced upwards, aimed not to strike the walls, but to fly overhead and come down within Niam Liad.

The first wave launched, the mages disappeared into the squads surrounding them, taking up sword and shield like normal soldiers as the army shifted itself about, disguising their positions with the movement. As the fireballs closed with the city, great gusts of wind rose from the walls beneath. The howling gales tore at the fire, deflecting some, but most crashed within the city, and the soldiers of Glanhaol Fflamboethi could see buildings catch alight. A cheer rose from the gathered troops, and with it another round of fireballs. These were attacked earlier by the airmages, and less of them made it through to Niam Liad.

A triple blast sounded on the horn, signalling a change in targets for the firemages, and this time, as the first balls of fire arced upwards, long sheets of flame sped outwards, aimed to scour the battlements. Treating the fireballs as the primary targets, the airmages were able to stop almost all, but they turned their attention to the sheets of flame too late. The infernos swept over the wall, catching many soldiers and airmages. Others jumped, flinging themselves into the courtyards below to avoid the scorching blast. Dead or injured, it mattered not, they were out of the fight. Seizing the moment of distraction in the Lianese ranks, the firemages of Bhreac Veryan expended themselves, launching wave upon wave into the city, spreading the projectiles to land in all the many quarters and cantons of Niam Liad.

Another cheer rose from the soldiers of Bhreac Veryan, for before them burned the capital of their enemy, a golden glow reaching to the sky. The Lianese left on the walls turned inwards, racing from their positions to try and dampen the fire, that or flee on the trading vessels in the harbour.

Glanhaol Fflamboethi had achieved their goal, breaking apart and punishing the rebellious cities of the southern peninsula. Only Horaim was left standing, and perhaps that would change on the way north. It would take decades for Miath Mhor and Niam Liad to reclaim their prominence.

Once more the horn sounded, this time the call for retreat. Work done, the army turned to the north. There was one more battle they must face this day, without the firemages, for they were too exhausted to offer more than token assistance. Rhyfelwyr had been forced to catch Rhocas after his last effort, for the young man had fainted to the ground. Now, the mages rode amongst the supply wagons, tended by the cutters, ashen-faced and shivering, their bodies expended. Rhyfelwyr thought some might not make the dusk, their bodies so shattered they would fall into the sleep from which none woke.

Now the soldiers of Bhreac Veryan had to fight their way through the bulk of the Lianese army, and that would be a trial the likes of which they had not faced. The Lianese had been able to conjure thousands of troops from thin air, although the sergeant and his squad suspected the numbers had been inflated with sailors and farmers. And scouts had reported the presence of a new type of soldier: Lianese heavy infantry covered from head to foot in armour and carrying large shields and flails.

The officers of Glanhaol Fflamboethi had not given up hope of avoiding the battle, and so the column was angled towards the eastern coast, in the hopes they could slip around the ponderous Lianese forces. Hours passed, until a cry carried from the scouts on the western side of the Veryan army. They had been spotted by a scout from Niam Liad. Thus warned, the officers of Glanhaol Fflamboethi hunted for a location to make a stand, and found one in a small hill that gave a good view of the surrounding countryside.

Officers travelled amongst the men, positioning squads in various ways, forming a ring about the crest of the hill. The soldiers dug with a will, forming a shallow trench five feet in front of their lines, mounding up the extracted dirt into a small wall. It would provide some protection against the arrows and javelins of the Lianese forces, and dent the momentum of their charge. Likewise, the wagons were drawn into a circle at the top of the hill, where they would be the last fall back. Though if the fighting reached the wagons, the battle was lost for Bhreac Veryan.

Rhyfelwyr and his squad were placed to face westward, the direction from which the main thrust of Lianese soldiers would come. And come they did, in a wave that spread across the horizon and made the numbers of the Veryan soldiers seem paltry and few. But that wave gave the Veryan soldiers hope, for the soldiers on the wings carried little in the way of weapons or armour, and some seemed to have nothing more than daggers, clubs or sickles. The morale of those troops would be low, and they would break easily. If only a few firemages were available to cause that break. Locsyn returned from where he had gone to check on Rhocas, and shook his head. None of the mages were awake, and most had the ashen face and shallow breath of a man on death’s doorstep.

Had the Veryan soldiers more time, they could have turned the hill into a killing ground, with strong fortifications and a field of caltrops scattered before the trenches. With the Lianese soldiers approaching, all the Veryans could do was finish the trench, and position themselves in a deep shield wall surrounding the summit.

***

It was late in the afternoon when the Lianese reached the foot of the hill. There they paused, letting the wings circle round until the hill was engulfed in troops. The eastern side of the hill faced ill-armed conscripts, and a thin screen of skirmishers, while the western flank looked upon the heavy infantry of Niam Liad, each swathed in glistening layers of metal and wood. With just a glance Gwyth could tell the armour would take many a direct blow, and so he told his comrades to go for the joins, where it would be weakest. Rhyfelwyr and the others nodded; it was likewise with the insectoid Veryan suits.

Both armies waited in silence, until the call sounded within the Lianese lines.

Rhyfelwyr thought for a moment, then shouted. “Tip the heavies into the trench! They won’t get up!” Indeed, it looked as if the armour weighed enough that would be the case. As the front line of the Lianese soldiers moved up the hill, the skirmishers released javelins and arrows. Firing uphill robbed the projectiles of strength, and the Veryan soldiers were able to catch most on their shields. Some few struck true, leaving gaps in the Veryan line that were filled from behind, the wounded dragged to the cutters.

The Lianese forces closed, and a horn sounded. The Veryan lines took two steps backwards, contracting. Rhyfelwyr looked to his left and his right, nodding at Gwyth and Locsyn, and each withdrew a glass sphere from the pouches hanging at their belts. Each soldier had been issued two spheres today, the last from the army’s supplies. The Lianese lines had sped to a slow jog, and had all but reached the shallow trench.

A strident note flew overhead, followed by arcing spheres. The glass containers crashed into Lianese faces, showering the soldiers with shards and glass dust, leaving them in milling confusion. The Veryan soldiers hung back, for the glass dust took no notice of friend or foe, and could blind the Veryans if they charged too soon. The front lines of the Lianese stumbled down the hill, bleeding and barely able to see, taking with them some of the heavy infantry. Gathering themselves, the Lianese stepped into the trench and over, and as they did the Veryan soldiers charged, slamming into their foe with all the momentum two extra steps up the hill had given them. They used their shields as battering rams, knocking the Lianese backwards. Most of the Veryan front rank launched themselves fully into their foes, falling from the impact, but into the chaos stepped the second rank, and their swords played havoc with the befuddled Lianese soldiers.

On the eastern side of the hill, the skirmishers were unable to stand the force of the Veryan charge, and they broke, leaving conscripts to face the might of the Veryan veterans. The conscripts held for a time, the sheer numbers providing a counter to the skill of the Veryan soldiers. A single warrior might kill three or four conscripts, but if his sword was caught or his shield fouled, then a Lianese would leap atop him, using weight to bear the Veryan to the ground. Seeing what happened when they fought as individuals, the Veryan soldiers on that side of the hill regrouped, falling back into the shield wall. This served them better, for the Lianese recruits had no training in how to break a wall of this kind, and without shields or armour of their own, they had little chance against the heavily armed and armoured troops.

On the western side of the hill, matters were turning worse. The initial charge had bowled over a great many of the heavy infantry and supporting troops, but to Rhyfelwyr’s dismay, the brutes were standing and marching forward to rejoin the fray. Pressed by the numbers of Lianese, Rhyfelwyr and his squad stepped into the shield wall, slipping back into the old rhythm of front ranks defending, second ranks stabbing over and around. Rhyfelwyr felt Locsyn behind him, and grinned, for this was a dance the two men had perfected many years ago, and as Lianese soldier after Lianese soldier came forward, they fell to the trickery and exquisite timing of the two old soldiers. Until before them stood a heavy infantry, his massive shield covering the entire left side of his armoured body. Swords flickering in and out, the two soldiers sought an opening in the guard of the soldier, but none presented itself, and the heavy countered by striking with his flail. Unlike a normal weapon, which he could catch on the edge of his shield, Rhyfelwyr saw that if he did that here, the flail head would swoop over and continue its motion, striking without impediment. Up and down the line, the heavies were entering the fight on the side of Niam Liad, and the situation was grim for the shield wall of the Veryan soldiers.

The Veryan line was forced back a step as the mass of Lianese soldiers pushed up the hill. Gywth cursed, finding himself fighting a man even larger than he was, and the Veryan soldier had to use his shield to block three straight blows from the heavy. On the fourth, Gywth caught the incoming strike on his shield, holding the arm up above the heavy’s head. Seeing the opening, Taflen stepped forward and thrust into the exposed armpit, severing the vessels there. The infantryman collapsed, blood pouring from the wound. Another came towards the soldiers, and this soldier was struck down in the same manner, having not seen Gwyth and Taflen use the tactic. It required great strength and effort and luck, and even the mighty giant was tiring as the battle drew on. The shield wall was holding, but it bowed dangerously inwards where the Lianese heavy infantry had struck. Most of them were gone, but they had done grievous damage to the western half of the Veryan ring, and troops had been pulled from the east to shore up the sagging lines.