Legend of the Swords: War (12 page)

Hesiod drummed his fingers on the table again, lost in thought. “You have no memories of where you came from?”

“None.” Renek shook his head, staring at his plate.

“Then how can you wield a sword as well as you and Rimes say that you do?” There was hesitation in his voice. Renek felt that, were it not for the war going badly, Hesiod’s distrust would have won. As it was, Renek didn’t know if he would be sleeping in a tent tonight, or at the side of the road.

Renek looked at the floor, and mumbled, “I don’t know.”

“I’m sorry?” Hesiod leaned forward, a hand cupped to his ear.

Renek looked up at him and spoke clearly: “I don’t know. All I know is that everything becomes very clear, very easy, when I draw my sword. When I first did that in battle, it was against some brigands. They seemed to be slow to me—but apparently I was very fast.” He frowned deeply. “One of them called me ‘devil’ because I was so fast.

“It was similar to that on the battlefield today,” he continued. “I was able to see all around me.” He shook his head, and stared at the floor again. “No, that’s wrong. I could only see in front of me, but I could
feel
everyone around me. I could tell if they were off balance, if they were too tired to defend…I knew when your men were able to protect themselves enough to retreat safely, and I don’t know how I knew.” He looked up at Hesiod, allowing his expression to openly show how confused he was.

Hesiod looked at him from across the table. He picked his hand up and cradled his chin, obviously deep in thought.

“You’re right, I don’t believe your story," he said, finally. “It just isn’t right, Renek. I don’t know why you’re not sharing with me, but you’ll have your reasons, whatever they are.” He shook his head, and drained the last glass of wine.

“I’m telling you the truth,” Renek said, quietly, but Hesiod shook his head again.

“Well, there’s nothing for it, anyway,” Hesiod said. “It is getting late, and I am tired. Please return to your tent, and attend to me at dawn.” He shook his head and stood up. “We are in desperate need, for we must hold the Triols to this side of the river. I’m afraid that our casualties are going to increase significantly if we don’t do something—and while I don’t believe you, I am going to trust you enough to fight with us. I have to.”

He lifted his eyebrows as if disbelieving what he was saying. “I would like you to help me plan the next day’s battle, along with the remaining captains that are in our battalion. We
should
have twenty, each with a hundred men, but they seem to put themselves into danger before they let their men face it, and so we have only twelve captains left, and nearly none with their full complement of men.

“I will let you fight alongside Rimes for the next few days. Perhaps your … assistance can help us lose lives more slowly.” He shook his head again, and gestured to the door. “Now, get some rest. You’ll want plenty of energy to impress me tomorrow.

Hesiod looked directly into Renek’s eyes. “After all,” he continued, “A man with no past has no people to miss him if he were to … fall in battle.”

When he got back to his cot, Renek found himself unable to sleep. Hesiod had been too disturbing, too cautious. And for good reason.

“Who the heck am I? Do I have any family that misses me?” He muttered to himself before he finally dropped off.

Battle at Three Hills

Renek crouched behind the top of a hill, lifting his head just high enough to see the Triols. It was about an hour before dawn, but he could tell from their torches and campfires that their army was massive, much larger than the Kingdom’s. He shook his head, and crawled backwards down the hill to where he had left a burning torch stuck into the sandy soil.

Captain Rimes followed. As soon as they were low enough to stand up without being seen, they did so—behind some scrub brush as extra cover, in case enemy sentries happened by—and conversed in hushed voices.

“Captain, their army is much larger than I thought.” Renek shook his head again.

“They outnumber us at least four to one, I should think,” Rimes said.

“Yes, judging from the width of the fires, they have at least four thousand men. We have just shy of a thousand.” Renek picked up a small stick and started drawing on the ground. Rimes leaned in closely, holding the torch close so that they could see the drawing in the flickering orange light. “Their force lies
here
, between these three hills. They have a scouting party that circles the hills.” He looked up into the sky for a moment, pondering. Rimes waited patiently. Finally Renek began to speak, drawing his eyes down to his crude map.

“I think they have made a tactical error with their camp placement,” Renek began. He pointed at the three low spots, between the hills. “If
we
attack
them
, instead of waiting for them to come over the hill to us, then we can take advantage of that.

“I think they’ll pull their sentries back in quickly, and we can use the hills for cover, and flank them. We could send perhaps a third of our forces in two units around those hills and lay into their rear, and on the hills where their archers are likely to be.” Renek drew a deep breath, and let it out quietly. “Once we’ve taken out their archers, we can send ours up the hills, and fire into their center until we run out of arrows. We’ll have little chance of hitting our own men, since we’ll be surrounding them.”

Rimes shook his head. “Well, it’s basic strategy that the center has an advantage.” His lips drew taut. “But … maybe you’re right. If we can pull it off, we might have a chance. Two units flankin’, one after the other, will confuse them.” He pointed at the two hills that would surround the battle, should Renek’s plan take place. “But why won’t they send their archers up these two hills, here and here? They might see our men.”

Renek sighed. “You’re right, of course. But they should be focused on the front, not looking over their shoulders. Plus, I don’t think they’ll go to the top of the hills, they would be too exposed. It would be easy to send a group of armored knights up the hill on horses, overtake them, and take the hills.” He smiled in grim satisfaction. “If I were the enemy, I would keep my archers close enough to protect them.”

Rimes laughed, softly. “Well sir, if you were the enemy, you wouldn’t have camped in such a vulnerable spot. And my—I mean,
our
—army would be in a worse spot for it.”

Renek chuckled as they turned to walk back to the camp.

*   *   *

Lieutenant Hesiod had already woken the camp, and by the time that Renek and Rimes returned to the commanding officer’s tent, men were scurrying about making preparations.

The two warriors were admitted, and escorted to Hesiod’s table, where they sat down to a meager breakfast of scrambled eggs and the dry, puck-like biscuits that seemed to be omnipresent around the camp.

“What news do you bring?” Hesiod demanded as he served them.

Rimes smiled. “Sir, Renek’s come up with a way of maybe defeating the Triol army.” He took a deep breath. “At least we’ll do a lot of damage if we can’t beat them.”

“Explain, and take turns so that you can eat. We have little time before the Triols will emerge and attack.”

“We have even less time, then,” Renek said. “We must mobilize and attack them. It is imperative.”

Hesiod looked at Renek for a moment. “We cannot attack. Our forces are vastly outnumbered.”

Renek sighed. He had been expecting this. “Surprise is important. Because we number so few, our attack will not be expected. That will give us the edge, each of our soldiers will count for two.”

Hesiod’s eyes narrowed, but he put his fork down and stood up. “Let us away, then. If we must attack first, we have little time indeed.”

*   *   *

The cavalry were reserved in the rear. The knights and their squires, about fifty men in total, gathered to the left side of the battle, out of sight. A group of fifty archers rode behind their saddles. The knights were to attack last, driving their horses deep into the outer ranks of the Triol army in an attempt to confuse and demoralize the enemy.

The rest of the men with horses stood in the rear of the army, where they would be plainly visible to the enemy once the battle was joined. This was necessary, since the Triols would be expecting to see the cavalry—Renek didn’t want them expecting the flanking maneuver. Additionally, it would discourage any flanking maneuvers by the Triols.

About two hundred infantry were ready to attempt the left flanking maneuver. They were hidden behind the hill, among some sparse trees about a quarter of a mile away. Fifty archers accompanied them. The foot soldiers were to leave their position as soon as they heard the sounds of fighting, and attack as soon as they arrived.

Back in the center, the remaining seven hundred or so men formed their line—swordsmen in front, and pikes behind—they could level their pikes at any oncoming horse charges. Bowmen were behind the pikes. Reserve swordsmen were behind them, since the valley between the brush-covered hills was too narrow for everyone to fight all at one time.

Hesiod gave the call, and the army moved out as a unit. Renek, who was watching from a distance, sitting on a horse with the knights, nodded approvingly at their discipline. It was hard to get people to move as a unit. Hesiod seemed to inspire confidence in his men, despite his lack of experience.

Renek saw dust rising from the valley beyond. The large Triol army was already marching. It would be a near thing for them to meet between the hills. He watched with a worried eye, but after a few minutes, he saw that the two armies would do battle where he had hoped.

He saw the Triol archers take to the hills, hundreds on each side of the advancing army. Soon, the sounds of battle came—the clash of sword on shield, the cries of wounded and dying men. His eyes turned to the infantry hidden in the trees.

They began to stream out in small groups, running to the side of the hill in fives and tens. Renek thought that he recognized Rimes when he ran with some men—he had a captain’s white armband around his left bicep. They formed up ranks in the scrub brush on the opposite side of the hill from the Triol archers. Renek had been correct; they stood low on the hillside, near the protection of their army. He nodded in satisfaction, realizing that their arrows would not have been able to reach the kingdom’s army had they stood at the tops of the hills.

The kingdom’s archers moved forward, spilling out to the sides of the footmen as they tried to show that kingdom arrows pierced just as well as Triol arrows. They were quickly driven back, though, since the Triol archers were higher and their arrows flew further.

Renek looked around him at the knights, and nodded. They nodded in return, and the group began to ride around their hill. They needed to be in place before the first flanking attack hit the Triol army.

It took only a few minutes to get in position. Two of the knights and Renek dismounted, climbing the hillside on foot, just to one side of the empty valley. They saw the main battle had been fully engaged; Hesiod’s flag flew near the front lines. The kingdom horsemen were wheeling about on their own army’s right side, across from the knights. They seemed to be trying to reach the archers—riding up the side of the hill, shields held over their heads. It only took a moment for Renek to understand why they were no longer on the battle plan: kingdom soldiers were dying by the score in the valley, as volley after volley of arrows fell into their midst.

Renek’s gaze was wrenched away, though, as he heard the yelling of the hundred foot soldiers, running into the Triol’s flank. They fought hard, but kept out of the range and even sight of the archers. Rimes’ armband was clearly visible in the front of the attack—and the enemy seemed to be cowed, a large group of them retreating. The Triol rear commander quickly tried to organize his troops, turning several lines of swordsmen to face the new threat. They began to beat their swords against their shields, rhythmically, as they advanced. The sound seemed to remind the retreating Triols that they outnumbered the enemy. They came to a halt, and turned to face the foot soldiers.

It was the perfect time for Renek’s attack.

Practice

Ryan and Kevin ran as fast as they could towards the water beast, swords drawn and swinging at their sides. They were careful to thread their way through the trees without touching them.

William glanced at them quickly while drew his sword and stood on guard, but Armand jumped past him with a yell. He slashed down, hard, and struck the creature. It shied back, bleeding a dark fluid; what color was impossible to say in the failing light of the flowers.

For the flowers had begun to die. Unexpectedly, there was a popping sound as each one’s stamen suddenly swelled and exploded pollen into the night air. The pollen glowed faintly for a few seconds as it floated out away from the flower, then faded into obscurity. The petals fell off and went dark just as quickly as the pollen.

William breathed in deeply, preparing to attack the water beast—and started to sneeze. Over and over, he sneezed. He staggered away from the water, reaching out to steady himself on a tree while he sneezed yet again.

The tree screamed. A high-pitched keening wail came out of it, and its branches came down, surrounding its trunk. William was caught inside of the living jail cell, still sneezing feebly.

The other two knights finally rushed around the corner of the island, swords drawn.

Meanwhile Armand hacked at the beast, clearly giving his all. He motioned to the squires and the other knights to stay back as he danced around the moss covered tree roots, avoiding the water creature’s strikes easily despite their speed.

Ryan swayed in place, standing in en guard. Kevin also looked as if he was about to attack, but Armand yelled at them to stay back.

Armand deftly swung his sword into the side of its jaw, causing the creature to cry out as ichor poured out of its mouth. The snout had eyes on top of it, near the back, and Ryan noticed that they were blinking in pain or anger from this latest cut.