Fire And Ice (Book 1) (80 page)

             
A few soft flakes of snow began to fall as the armies stared at each other over the intervening space.              

             
“I think it has been long enough Lord Roland,” she stated in a voice as cold as a mountain stream.

             
“Majesty?” he questioned without taking his eyes from the valley before him.

             
“Those drums.”  She couldn't keep the disgust out of her tone any longer.  “They have been working at our men long enough, sapping their resolve and instilling fear.”

             
Roland nodded.  “I understand how it may look.  And you are right, it is effecting our men but they are stronger than you think, or the Makkurans think.  When battle begins you will see how little the drums affect them.”

             
She trusted his judgment, and had to agree with his assessment with the strength of the army, but...  “I will not give the Makkurans even the smallest advantage.  It may not affect our men but it is giving courage to theirs.”

             
“That is true.”  Roland frowned for a second then his face brightened.  “There is something we can do.”  He gestured to the messengers waiting nearby who came closer and listened to his instructions before galloping off in different directions.

             
When they were gone Katelyn raised an eyebrow at the general of her armies.  “Well?”

             
He was smiling now and obviously rather pleased with himself.  “They want noise do they?  We will give them noise.”             

             
Coran waited impatiently for the last of the ships to be unloaded on the beach.  The Northmen were gathered in irregular groups from the beach to the village and beyond.  By comparison, the men of Holdon were in orderly ranks and they had brought a number of horses with them as well.  The few that the Northmen had brought were being used in scouting to the south.  The men of the North looked almost odd with their lack of any uniform and the absence of a single banner.  He put it out of his mind and watched for any signs of the scouts returning.

             
He wanted to ride there himself.  He had to know what was happening.  Mixed in with his impatience was the thought of how he would deal with Elthzidor.

             
A horse was heard approaching and he ran forward to see.  It was one of the scouts returning at last.

             
“Two armies are lined up to the south,” the Northman reported.  “Midians and those others.  They should be starting in on each other about now.”

             
“Then we have to hurry!”  Coran almost shouted.  “Time to move.”

             
The Kings smiled at his impatience then raised their heads and their voices.  “Let’s go!  Time for some fun!”

             
The massed men of the North marched, each in their own way, southward.  Mance led his gray clad army from Holdon.

              Treska watched the Ithanian vessels as they sailed closer over the calm waves.  The Northmen ships were already darting ahead of the Midians in their eagerness to attack.  He brought his own ship forward staying in formation with the other merchants in his group.  Jorgins, because of his vast experience and once having served aboard a warship in his youth, led the group that consisted of twelve ships.  

              Elthzidor sat in his saddle at the top of the rise as he surveyed the battlefield.  Their drums were no longer effective.  Nothing more could be gained by waiting.  “Let it start,” he ordered the general who was mounted next to him.  The general raised a hand and ordered the first attack. 

              If the drums were still sounding Katelyn doubted anyone but their strikers could hear.  Where there had to be a thousand drummers they were being drowned out by tens of thousands of Midians.  By Roland’s order every man with a shield was banging sword or spear against it in the same rhythm as the drums.  By the eagerness of her army in getting some retaliation by making a noise of their own she didn’t think an order was needed.  Once it started others joined in immediately.  She resisted the urge to cover her ears against the tumult but instead kept a watchful gaze on the enemy across the valley.  With their drums silenced it was only a matter of time before they attacked.  Her prediction was proven true.    

             
The snowflakes fell lazily about them on the road as the horizon stirred.  There was movement from the enemy lines.  Karands started foreword, yelling some sort of war cry.  Then tens of thousands of them surged ahead in a screaming wave. 

             
The sight of so many running wildly and yelling at the top of their lungs for the blood of their enemies was enough to make her eyes go wide and her mouth go dry.  The experience of facing a charge had been explained to her, but the reality of it was far more terrorizing.  For the first time in her life fear gripped her heart.  Katelyn held tightly to the reins and put her left hand on her sword hilt for comfort.

             
“Archers!”  The call rang throughout the trees.  All around them bowmen raised their weapons with arrows nocked and strings drawn back.  Drums and shields alike went silent.  “Loose!”  The strings twanged as their deadly missiles were launched.  “Again!”  The shout came before the first arrow found a target.  Karands fell before that first wave like a wheat field before the wind.  “Loose!”  A second wave was on the way.  It had as much affect as the first.  A third volley was loosed and then the Karands reached the solid line of infantry arrayed against them.               

             
The crash of that meeting was deafening, Katelyn could not help but flinch.  The line of footmen, armed with swords and round shields, held firm.  The Karands pushed up against that solid wall until cracks appeared in the defenses.  The Midian infantry thrusted with their swords and Karands died.  At the same time the Karands in the rear were still being raked by arrow storms. 

             
Enemy Archers had moved up and were firing into the melee with a reckless abandon, hitting friend and foe alike.  Unable to make headway, and unwilling to stand against such slaughter, the Karands retreated back across the field. 

             
Roland watched the retreat thoughtfully for a moment, assessing the situation with a tactical detraction.  “Hold!” he finally ordered after making a decision and it was repeated up and down the line.  “If we try to take advantage of their retreat they will close in around us.”  He gestured to the Eastern footmen waiting on either flank.  

             
It made sense, but then he was the expert.  She looked out over a field littered with robed corpses.  “What will they do now?”

             
Roland spared a second to turn his face towards hers.  “I have no idea.”

              Oran rode back and forth in front of his line of men as the snow continued to fall.  He had an even mix for the force of men under his command.  About a third were mounted and another third were heavily armored infantry.  The rest were mostly archers.  He was charged with the duty of protecting the left flank of the army.  On either side of them were tree covered hills and behind them winter barren fields.

             
“There!” someone shouted and Oran wheeled his horse to face the front.              

             
A band of horsemen was galloping its way between the two forested hills.  “Archers ready!” he called to the men behind him.  The enemy had their own short horse bows and were preparing to fire.  “Fire!”  His archers loosed first as they exchanged shots.

             
The charging Karandi horsemen veered away from the stiff looking resistance towards the right and up into the trees as he had predicted they would do when faced with a determined defense.  It took only a moment after they had disappeared from view that the screams were heard.  A few minutes later and horses appeared running down from the hill with empty and blood stained saddles. 

             
It seemed that Roland had been right.  Whatever was in those woods was effective in stopping any flanking maneuver.

              The Karands came on again, but this time they were supported by Eastern troops as the whole line charged.  All along the front they came.  Like ants pouring from a kicked anthill they swarmed across the valley en masse.

             
“Foot forward!  Foot forward!”  Roland shouted and it was repeated again.  “Charge!”  The Western line of soldiers charged forward to meet the enemy.  There was no other choice in facing so many. 

             
Katelyn noticed Karand and Eastern cavalry charging as well on each flank of the field.  On the far hillside there were still some Easterners waiting with the Bloodriders.  On her side only the Knights of Soros and the men of Holdon that Roland had brought with him had not yet engaged.

             
A glance to the wizards on one side of the road showed them with fists clenched at their sides and intense expressions on their faces.  Whatever they were doing it was taking a tremendous amount of effort.  She felt a tingling to the air and a bolt of lightning fell from the gray sky and exploded among the Taragosans, knocking several men to the ground.  There was another crashing bolt and then it stopped for a time.  Thalamus said they would be concentrating on countering the moves of the Maji.  

             
The fighting on the field went on for what seemed an eternity until finally the enemy forces began to falter and give way.  Her own forces were pushing ahead and the ranks of the enemy thinned in several places.  They were winning.

              Elthzidor frowned at the performance of his army.  His Makkurans should be faring better than this.  He looked to the general nearby.  “Order a full attack.  Send everything we have.”

             
“Are you sure?” the general asked.

             
Elthzidor did not blame the man for questioning him.  The general did not know about the surprise that was coming.  “And send a message to Kere.  Have one of the Maji lead an attack against the northern flank.  I want someone coming at them from behind.”

             
“Yes, Ra Majin.”

             
Elthzidor walked his horse the rest of the way along the ridge to the tower.  He dismounted and entered the square opening at its base.

              Treska wiped the sweat from his face as the Ithanian ship came along side.  All his maneuvering had kept off balance the ships he had faced so far, but not this time.  Of the dozen ships he had started out with from Summerhall only half of them were left.  The good news was that the Northmen were cutting through the Ithanians like a scythe.  Wherever they went they left burning ships in their wake.  The bad news was that they were not here, but a mile to the west.   

             
“A quarter turn to port!” he ordered and the wheel man complied.  His men exchanged arrows with the enemy ship as they began to turn away.

             
The Captain of the other ship was good.  He cut inside instead of trying to match the turn and was along side before Treska could readjust.  It would be hand to hand now, that was something he had been trying to avoid. 

             
More shots were exchanged, some of the arrows had been set on fire.  The ships closed and Ithanian soldiers leaped the distance between.  One lost his footing and fell into the frothing waters between the hulls. 

             
Treska’s crew put up a desperate defense against the well trained Ithanians.  Treska led them himself with a short sword in one hand and a short truncheon with hand guard in the other.  The truncheon he used to turn aside enemy blades.  The short sword had a wide blade that narrowed to a point.  It was perfect for punching through armor.  After a furious fight he was able to beat back the attack and remove the hook that the Ithanians used to connect the ships.  He took the opportunity to break away from the opposing vessel.  With a huge sigh of relief he kept watch for the next closest ship while his crew cleared the deck of the dead and tended their wounded.

              “They have committed their reserves!”  Roland shouted over the din of battle.

             
Katelyn could see that the remaining forces from the opposite hill were now engaged in the fighting.  They came on in two places with the Orgog to spearhead the attacks.  One was aimed at the Westlanders to the south, the other at the Taragosans in the center.  The effect of the charging gray figures was devastating to her forces.  Men fell back before the onslaught and great gaps appeared that the Easterners poured through.  Groups of Midians were cut off from the rest of the army and surrounded.               

             
“We cannot match that,” Roland told her and his voice betrayed his doubt for the outcome.  “We have to retreat now before it is too late.  We can still save the bulk of our forces and tear down the bridges behind us.”