Lord of Janissaries (127 page)

“I agree.”

On a parade ground I’d just say ‘Right Oblique, March.’ This is going to be a bit tougher.
Rick called his messengers together.

* * *

“Enemy in sight!” The shout went up from a dozen men at once as the rain slacked off.

“Well, my lord, we have found the fighting you wanted,” Rick said.

Balquhain grinned. They had reached what had been the corner of Third Division. Now it was covered with enemies, thousands dead but many thousands more still alive and fighting. None faced Rick’s force.

“Sound the charge,” Balquhain ordered.

“Damn right! Go like hell.”
Nothing like surprise.
“Messenger, ask Lord Teuthras to send any cavalry he can spare. Have them come directly here.” He drew his sword and rose in his stirrups as the trumpeters sounded the charge.

* * *

Tylara heard the trumpets sound charge just as the rain stopped. “To your horses!” Drumold shouted. “Ah, lass, now I truly believe your husband is here.”

Ha! I had not planned for our first meeting to be on a battlefield, but now I think it is well.

Minutes later enemy cavalry galloped into view. They veered off at the sight of the Tamaerthan chivalry.

“Should we not charge?” Drumold asked.

“I think not yet.”
Rick, where are you?
“I think there will be more, soon, and it is best we wait.”

The enemy was out of sight in moments. Then, suddenly, Tylara heard the sound of star weapons to her right. “The—
light machine-gun!
Lord Rick must have brought another.”

Drumold raised the nasal bar of his helmet and grinned. “Whoever was thrashing about in yon swamp will have good company I’m thinking. I doubt we’ve aught to fear from that place now.”

Tylara smiled agreement. Few captains could get men to go forward through retreating comrades. None could make them do it against star weapons. “It means, I think, that we are free to do whatever we think best,” Tylara said.

The rain had stopped, but she still couldn’t see much. Far ahead and to her left were the pickets marking the rear of Third Division’s area. Off to the right was the village, and somewhere beyond it were Rick’s starmen.

More trumpets sounded far to the left.
That must be Rick. It must be! Who else could win the day two hours after he came to the battle?
She turned to Drumold and grinned. “Is it no time that the clansmen had their wish? Yonder trumpets signal the charge. Shall we no obey?”

Drumold drew his sword and stood in his stirrups. “Aye, Lass. Forward!”

Tylara spurred her horse to a trot. Soon enough the thin mud of the slope changed to the deeper mud of the valley. The Tamaerthan forces angled off to their left, trying to stay on more solid ground. They had gone a quarter mile when Tylara remembered to send messengers, to Strymon, and to Rick and Ganton if they could find them.

The rain began again as they passed the corner of Third Division’s old square. Now the wind came up from behind her.
A good sign. It drives the rain into the enemy’s face, not ours.
The sounds of battle were louder.

She turned to one of her officers. “Go and find Lord Rudhrig. Be sure he knows that we are here. I would no care to be charged by his horsemen.”

“There, lass.” Drumold pointed.

A gust of wind blew away smoke and rain for seconds. The enemy was ahead.

“We can no do a proper charge in this mud,” Drumold said. “But we can try.” He stood in his stirrups. “Charge!”

Someone behind shouted “Mac Clallan Muir!” A thousand more took up the cry. Kettledrums and horns sounded. The clansmen spurred forward.

* * *

Matthias cursed the rain. Victory lay less than a hundred paces ahead, where Ganton stood in his golden helmet beneath the banner of the Fighting Man. They had only to kill Ganton and the war was over. Akkilas would have no difficulty persuading the barons of Drantos that this was no time for an infant Wanax.

Men fell all around him, but he was untouched. “Forward! Forward to victory!”

The spearmen of Ta-Kartos advanced. They struck the shield wall of Ganton’s bodyguards, and the battle held there. Whenever a man fell on either side, another replaced him. The rain cleared for a moment. Matthias looked around for more forces to throw into the attack. He had waved a new group of infantry forward when he heard horns.

Drantos horns. “What call is that?” he demanded of an acolyte.

“Honorable, it is their charge.”

Matthias cursed. “They have brought up the others at last.” Where were the blocking forces he had set to watch the enemy’s middlemost battle? No matter. Clearly they had been driven away without even sounding an alarm. “Captain Volauf! Press forward here! I go to meet this new attack.”

“As you will, Honorable.”

His spirit is broken, I think. Better to leave him here than to let him run away.
Matthias signaled to his personal guards. Many of them were veterans of the southern wars. There were only two hundred, but they were all he had left. “Follow me! Find the enemy commander and slay him.”
It is all we can do. It may be enough.

Matthias mounted. He thought it would not be easy to get through his own troops, dead and living, but he found the Drantos forces were much closer than he had expected.

The day is lost. Why has Vothan given victory to our enemies?
The wind blew into a real storm, but through the gusts of driving rain he caught sight of the banners ahead. The leaders of this new attack.

Could we yet win? We still have more strength than Ganton. Kill these leaders and this attack comes to naught. Then I can return to kill Ganton. We have not lost yet. “Forward!” He galloped toward the banners, and rejoiced to hear the hoofbeats of his men following close behind.

The fury of his charge carried him through the first of the enemy’s line. “Ignore those!” he shouted to his followers. “Ride for their banners! Kill the leaders.”

Now he was close enough to see the banners clearly, and he rejoiced. The War Lord of Drantos led here! His death would harm the Drantos cause nearly as much as Ganton’s.

Matthias’s horse was tiring. A dozen of his followers came level with him, then passed him. They dashed on toward the banners.

* * *

Tylara’s light cavalry dashed ahead of Drumold’s heavy chivalry. The surprise was total. Much of the enemy cavalry was dismounted, and their infantry faced Tylara’s left. In the distance she could see the shield wall of Ganton’s Guards, and behind that his banners. She rose in her stirrups to look back at Drumold, and pointed toward the Fighting Man with her axe.

She couldn’t hear his acknowledgment, but he waved to his left and his heavy cavalrymen struck the Ta-Kartos spearmen from behind.

Tylara nodded in satisfaction and waved her own men ahead, toward where she had last heard Rick’s trumpets.
They must be his. And I will go to him.

The Tamaerthan Hussars swept through the disorganized enemy. None fought, except to defend their own persons, and as soon as they were not threatened they ran away. A whole block of cavalry led by a great banner crossed just behind Tylara. Infantrymen clung to the horsemen’s stirrups. All fled to the east. Others ran behind them, some calling to their comrades to hold up.

“We have won!” Tylara shouted. “Victory! For Yatar and Christ!” Rain swept across the field. She could see nothing, but ahead she heard the sounds of fighting, swords against shields. Then the rapid fire of a battle rifle. Pistol shots.

“Rick!” she waved toward the sounds and spurred her horse on. She slapped him gently on the neck. “On! On my wonder!”
If you live through this day, I will see you have apples every day forever.
“Drantos! For Yatar, Christ, and Drantos!”

There were cavalrymen ahead. A solid formation, in line—

“Drantos!” she cried again.

They answered. “Drantos!”

More rifle fire to the right, and now three pistols shots, rapidly.

* * *

Rick took out a flask of brandy and drank a hefty shot.

Done, he thought. The enemy ahead couldn’t run away fast enough. First Division’s charge carried right through the enemy lines, such as they were. Anyone who didn’t run away could be left to Teuthras’ cleanup squads.

Now to find Tylara. Oh. And the king.
He waved the troops forward at a walk. “Save the horses,” he called. “Pass it on.”

The line was stretched too thin, but that couldn’t matter. The only opposition was from disoriented enemies who couldn’t see that the way east was clear and thought they had to fight to escape. It didn’t take long to kill them or chase them off.

The wind came up from the southwest and turned the squall into a real rainstorm. Gusts drove cold rain into Rick’s face. Rick wiped his eyes. “I won’t be sorry for a fire tonight.”

“Me either, Cap’n.” MacAllister rode alongside. “Any chance there’s more in that flask, sir?”

I don’t really encourage—
“Sure.” Rick took out the flask and handed it over. “You didn’t get much action today.”

“All I want, Captain.”

“Me too—” Rick lifted his helmet and listened. “What in hell is that?”

“Cavalry—” MacAllister unslung his H&K battle rifle. “Coming right at us, I’d say.”

“Who in hell?” Now he could see the galloping horsemen. Rick stood in his stirrups. “Drantos!” he called.

“Holy shit!” MacAllister shouted. “They sure ain’t ours!” He shouldered the weapon and fired, slowly and deliberately. The oncoming cavalrymen dropped one by one. Still they charged onward. “Jesus Christ, Cap’n, it’s
us
they want!”

Rick shifted his sword to his left hand and drew his Colt. He thumbed off the safety.
Wish I’d kept a rifle for myself. Never was much good with this—

MacAllister fired the rest of his clip. The oncoming enemy was no more than ten yards away now. One group dashed at Balquhain. Henchmen rallied to him.

Rick’s first round took the lead man full in the chest. He wheeled to his right to avoid the second, then shot the man as he came closer. He wanted to use a two-handed grip, but he didn’t dare let go of the sword in his left hand, and there was no time to sheathe it.

He fired three times, rapidly, and prayed that MacAllister would be able to reload in time. Then he was surrounded by enemies, and his pistol was empty.

He managed to thrust the Colt back in its holster and shift his sword to his right hand. As he did, his orderly spurred forward to take his place on his left. “Your shield!” Jamiy shouted.

Before Rick could take it, another horseman was on him. Rick parried the sword thrust and the man swept past. Rick had no chance to see what happened to him.

Ahead were half a dozen more of the enemy. The one in the center wore the robes of a priest of Vothan over mail, and carried a sword. He was screaming curses.

Rick looked around for MacAllister but couldn’t see him. He heard more riders coming up fast from his right front.
Looks like this is it.

“For Yatar and Christ!”

What? Who says that?

A rider in flowing cape appeared out of the rain beyond the enemy cavalry. The rider’s cape and long black hair streamed in the wind. A woman. She whirled an axe over her head, and screamed war cries.
My God, a Valkyrie!

The priest of Vothan turned to look. He stared, then slumped in his saddle. His sword fell forgotten as he turned to face the oncoming apparition. “Father Vothan! I come!”

Good God, it’s Tylara!

She rode past the mailed priest and struck at him with her axe. It knocked his helmet askew and he fell. His companions halted. One dismounted, and with the aid of another lifted the priest so that he lay across the saddle of his horse. They led him away.

Two of Balquhain’s henchmen rode after him, but the priest’s companions turned to fight.

“Let be!” Balquhain shouted. “There’s few enough with that courage.”

Tylara reined up alongside Rick. “My husband. I have come.”

Rick drew a deep breath. “So I see. What kept you?” He stood in his stirrups to look around the battlefield. The last of the enemy were riding away to his left. Behind him MacAllister was getting to his feet beside his fallen horse. “But just in time. Well come.” Rick sheathed his sword and drew the Colt. “Do you have any ammunition?”

“Why—yes.”

“Then why the hell didn’t you use it instead of that goddamn axe?” He leaned closer and touched her hair. “And for Christ’s sake, you’re not even wearing a helmet!”

She gripped his hand and held it against her cheek. “Forgive me, my lord. My husband. I did not think—”

“Yeah. Neither one of us has done much thinking for a while.” He squeezed her hand and let go, then leaned back and whacked her horse on the rump. “Race you back to Ganton’s tent!”

She steadied her mount and grinned back at him. They spurred their horses and galloped together into the storm.

MAPS