Haven: A Trial of Blood and Steel Book Four (61 page)

Only when Jaryd's cavalry were bearing down did the
talmaad
split to allow them through. And then there were pikes rearing up in Jaryd's face, still enough to cause a flash of fear, and a sudden maneouvre to keep from being skewered. The line of horses crashed in, animals rearing as pikes impaled them, riders falling, poles snapping into pikemen's faces. Jaryd found himself inside the line of spikes, and wheeled his horse to force a wider gap, hacking about him with his blade.

Other cavalry forced their way within, Lenays on smaller dussieh, typically less frightening for infantry but harder to impale on giant poles. They got in amongst the pikemen, and did not need to reach as far to strike. The forward rank of pikemen began to collapse, men abandoning poles to reach desperately for shields and swords. That made more space for cavalry, and soon there were horses trampling everywhere through their lines, and men fleeing in panic.

Suddenly there was artillery ahead of him, great wagons on huge wheels, pulled by teams of oxen. Even now, their huge arms swung, hurling flaming balls toward the rear of the left flank.

Archers defended them, and fired at oncoming cavalry. Jaryd felt a jolt through his shield, then his horse screeched and stumbled. Another jolt, and the horse fell, but at slow speed. Jaryd rolled off as a lifetime playing lagand had taught him, while other cavalry tore past and laid into the archers without mercy.

Jaryd ran, still limping on the leg he'd hurt crossing the Ipshaal weeks ago, and found his way up onto the nearest catapult, blocked by a shirtless crewman who grabbed a polearm. Jaryd warded off the blow and cut the man's legs from under him. He climbed up over those bloody screams and killed the next two crewmen, several more abandoning the massive winches and pulleys to run away, only to die amidst the cavalry.

Looking at the catapult mechanism, Jaryd realised that it would take some time to disable one properly with a sword. Ropes could be cut, but there was spare rope stored in loops, for they snapped quite frequently, and could be repaired fast if need be. But behind was the ammunition wagon.

He climbed onto it and looked down. The wagon's sides were like a giant box. Inside were racks, within which were stored the leather balls of hellfire rounds. There was a system of water, fed by a large trough at the back, that dripped down over the leather balls to keep them cool. When the catapult arm was wound down, a loader would take out a ball and place it in the cup, while another poured on a smear of hellfire, and lit it.

Both loaders had fled, and he was alone up here and under fire, as arrows zipped in, impaling the wagon. He looked about, and from this vantage of height, saw something shocking. This was the only portion of the artillery defences that had collapsed. Even here, his cavalry were now fighting a losing battle to hold back the teeming tide of infantry that regrouped and charged the far side. Archers peppered them with arrows, and horses were falling. Very soon they would be overwhelmed.

The great torch upon the wagon's rear that lit the final rounds was still in its sconce, and burning. Nearby catapults were still firing, incinerating serrin riders, and the last hope of victory. Jaryd realised what he had to do, for Lenayin and everything that he loved. For Sofy, who would surely die with most of Jahnd if this attack did not succeed.

He grabbed the torch off the wagon's rear and fell flat atop the wagon's storage rails. Below, a hellfire round had been arrow-struck, and was leaking badly. He pushed the torch toward it, and held it there.

“I'm sorry, Sofy,” he murmured. “You can't save me this time. But I can save you.”

His ears were filled with the Goeren-yai war cries of his cavalry around him, battling to grant him more time. They'd be joining him in the spirit world, his brothers-in-arms, and that suited him fine. His last thought, as the fire lit, was of Tarryn.

“Hello, little brother. How've you been?”

The fireball was the brightest thing Damon had ever seen. It pierced the eyes with heat more white than orange, and every serrin on the battlefield turned completely around to save his or her vision. Flames roared through infantry in the middle of the Regent's formation and engulfed a neighbouring catapult, which also erupted. As did the next, and the next, and the next, a chain of fire like a rolling wall, engulfing men by the thousand.

When it died, the battlefield seemed paused, as though in shocked silence. Serrin stood their horses off, blinking and dazed. Across the Regent's army, men stared in disbelief.

Too close together indeed, Damon thought, recalling Kessligh's observation. Far too close. And a second thought, as he realised how many attackers had surely been within range of those fires. Jaryd was one of the best horsemen and warriors in Lenayin, and one of the most determined. Surely he'd been in close. Suddenly, he knew with certainty that his friend was dead. It was a certainty like serrin sometimes had, of things they could not possibly know about each other. He just felt it.

Damon did not cheer in triumph, or salute the bravery of fallen heroes. He gathered as many men as he could, and charged the nearest enemy cavalry he could find. Then he began killing.

Sasha stood on a rooftop in the sprawl of buildings that was the Ilmerhill Valley part of Jahnd. Gazing across the clusters of roofs and streets that separated her from the mouth of the valley, she could see a wall of infantry moving at speed toward her. Tens of thousands of men in armour, yet their formation was broken, as though they were fleeing. Somehow, it had worked. No one down in this valley, far from lines of communication, knew how it had worked. But all had seen the fireballs that had turned night into the brightest of days, and knew that the attackers had lost the majority of their most feared weapons.

The infantry that advanced upon them now behaved exactly like men who had
talmaad
at their rear, in the dark. Their artillery gone, their centre in flames, their backsides peppered with arrows from the night, they retreated to where they had cover. The city in Ilmerhill Valley, where they could hide behind walls, and
talmaad
could not see them. But where Lenays and Ilduuris could.

She turned and faced the yard behind. It was an animal yard, leading to a small slaughterhouse. Fitting, she thought darkly. It was crowded with Lenay and Ilduuri infantry. The past hour, they'd been discussing tactics, playing to each others' strengths, here amongst the buildings.

“Listen!” she yelled at them, and they quietened. “They're coming! We know how many they are, but think! Five thousand
talmaad
attacked and broke through. You've seen how they shoot. A single
talmaad
can easily kill ten men in a fight. That's fifty thousand. Our enemies retreat here because they're
dying
out there, by the thousand. They can't fight what they can't see, and what applies to serrin applies to us here as well.

“Their only advantage is numbers. But here, we force them to fight man on man, and numbers mean nothing. Like the
talmaad
, each of you is worth many of them. Forget tactics. Forget clever games. I want from each of you only one thing. I want blood!”

There was a roar, then fast silence. She had them. “Kill them all! Show them no mercy! You are warriors such as they cannot match without the assistance of numbers, cavalry, and artillery. I want each of you to make a personal tally. I want you to compete with your friends for kills and heads. Remember what they did to our fallen friends! Remember what evil they fight for! Remember what the serrin did to King Leyvaan the Fool and his army, two hundred years ago! They forgot that lesson then! We will teach it to them again!

“I am Synnich-ahn, the most deadly of the ancient spirits, and I want to
drown
in their blood!”

“Blood!” her army roared. “Blood! Blood! Blood!” They punched the air with their swords. Sasha seethed, drinking it in. She meant every word. She wanted to slaughter, this deadly night. She could feel the ancient spirits in her veins, urging her to more than mortal cravings. It was as though the spirits of all the recently departed were driving her, seeking revenge, wanting this fate that had befallen them to befall their enemies as well.

Aisha saw
talmaad
cavalry wheeling ahead, though she felt the urge to turn well before she saw the turning. She rushed that way, adjusting her seat upon the saddle, confident her horse could still see in the great glare from behind. The feudal cavalry were closing on big, fast horses, and the serrin line was too disorganised from evading artillery to cut them down in force.

She ran with the main group of
talmaad
, heading out to the Dhemerhill River as the light upon trees and fields grew dimmer, and shadows darker. She stopped near the bank of the Dhemerhill, as others stopped about her and looked back. Feudal cavalry were slowing now, though she could not see precisely. They appeared to have closed upon the
talmaad
's rear ranks, where fighting continued at close range. But now, light from the great fires was fading.

Hellfire burned fast and hot, and would continue to burn for long periods after the first eruption. But that first eruption was by far the brightest and hottest, and the long fire that followed would be dim by comparison. Human cavalry had chased them all the way out here across the fields with blood on their minds, without a thought as to where the light that allowed them that chase was coming from. Now, moment by moment, that light was fading. The shadows were closing in and human riders slowed in concern, horses protesting at shapes in the dark, at trees and stumps and ditches.

Not yet, Aisha thought, walking her horse forward. She could feel a new momentum building, an inexorable tug, as with a large boulder beginning to roll from a high slope. Not yet. Noise from the oncoming charge continued to fade, in concert with the light. Now there were cries from the humans, as they realised their mistake. Calls to regroup, to form into lines. But they could not see each other to make that happen. Not yet.

Suddenly, the urge began to build. Now. Every serrin moved at the same instant. There was no need to move faster than a canter, but suddenly those ahead were filling the night with arrows, and men were screaming. She came across a trail and around some trees, and there they were, feudal cavalry, some knights, some Northern Lenays, milling and ordering and trying to re-form like blind men grasping about in a dark room. Serrin were firing into them on all sides, and they were falling.

Now they charged, knowing they had to do something other than stand there and die. Riders came toward her, but several did not see the low fence ahead and toppled over it, another horse reared in fright and dumped its rider, and others slowed to a fearful jog. Aisha sighted one whose shield was not properly in play, drew quickly to her chin, and released. She'd wanted the throat, but hit shoulder instead. The man yelled and was hit by a second shaft an instant later, straight through the jaw.

Holes opened amidst the human lines. Aisha urged her nervous mare into no more than a canter, weaving between some panicked, riderless horses, cautioning the mare to some bushes, then slowing so she did not stumble on rising ground. The mare trusted her. Now she was in amongst the cavalry, where she would be dead in moments during the day. But her enemies stared at her and past her, unable to tell this horseman from the others.

Aisha smiled, selected a Lenay man barely ten paces to her left, and shot him through the neck. This range suited her well, she thought, quickly drawing another arrow. There was a choice between two Torovans and another Lenay. Common sense chose the Lenay, and she put this shaft through his face. Even Rhillian could have scored kills in here.

One of the Torovans died to another serrin. The other tried to gallop, and rode headlong into a tree. He fell, and as he lay on the ground, a serrin rode to stand over him and shot him through the chest.

All about it continued, feudal cavalry now trying to run, attacking friends mistaken for foes, trying to form up. Aisha saw ten Lenay cavalry make a defensive group, unaware that two of their number were actually
talmaad.
They killed four of the other eight before they were recognised, and simply danced away when the Lenays came after them. One of the last four fell in pursuit, two more fell to other serrin arrows, and Aisha rode quietly up behind the last as he stared about him in panic, and shot him through the back from five paces.

“
Elay esc'tah
!” the serrin called to each other in Saalsi, almost laughingly. “We can see!” was perhaps the closest translation in any human tongue. It was a taunt, as serrin rarely taunted, an insult born of fury. The words rose in the air with a lilting high note, and humans ran before those alien, haunting cries.

Remaining human cavalry galloped, as fast as they dared, back toward their lines. Half the
talmaad
pursued. The other half ignored them and set off across the Ilmerhill River, to lay into the infantry on that side, before the Ilmerhill Valley mouth.

Sasha crouched in wait behind the fenceline of a small yard, surrounded by her Ilduuris. She'd chosen for them the eastern part of town nearer the Ilmerhill River, while Lenays took the western side, across the main road. There was no confusing either group with feudal men-at-arms, and Ilduuri were far more suited for this city fighting than Rhodaani or Enoran Steel. Smaller shields and longer swords, and a superior ability to fight alone or in small groups. There would be no great shield walls here, only small ones blocking streets and alleys. And, given the numbers that approached, lots of fast manoeuvring and improvising.

Those numbers were now running down the main road across the yard. There were shouts, officers directing men to look for enemy, to check for ambush. Many men did not seem to be paying attention, and were more concerned with putting distance between themselves and the pursuing serrin.

Sasha waited, knowing that a longer wait was better. There would be no signal to attack—the first ambushing force to be discovered would start the fight, and everyone else would join in. She waited longer, as more men and a few horses came crowding along the road. Some now came into the yard, amidst carved masonry in half-finished blocks. Perhaps the first ambusher to be discovered would be her…but these men stopped, exhausted, and gathered together to talk of what they'd seen. They sounded disbelieving, and concerned, but not yet completely terrified. That would change.