The Invisible Chains - Part 3: Bonds of Blood (53 page)

Rodomesh's red hair. Squinting his eyes he could make out just how outmanned the Wolf Mukthars were.

“
Timishi — Gods, no,”
he thought, panicking, and he gave his horse the spurs, veering to the left in the direction of his erstwhile charges, while fumbling for his sword.

Timishi and his Wolf Mukthars had been the first to arrive on the scene. The immediate effect was that a lot of the pressure was taken of Anaxantis, his Clansmen, and the Mirkadesh Home Guard. A sizable portion of the Bear Mukthars, who had closed the trap, had to turn against this new opponent. They did so with a superior force, almost triple in size. The Wolf Mukthars had the advantage of being on horseback and facing an enemy on foot. The clash was bloody from the start, and the Wolf Mukthars, after being thrown back quite some distance from Anaxantis's position, barely held their ground. However, seeing that help was on its way, they took heart, doubled their efforts, and gave their opponents no further quarter.

When both the Ximerionian and the Landemere cavalry fell on the Mukthars who had attacked Anaxantis's rear, the barbarians panicked. The situation was suddenly reversed. In their turn they found themsation undttaelves encircled. It took only twenty minutes to completely annihilate them.

Seeing that his rear was covered, Anaxantis could turn all his men against the much larger unit he was trying to prevent from joining Shigurtish's main force. He retreated from the front line and beckoned Hemarchidas.

“We can't hold out,” he panted. “And I must get back. The Ximerionian Army still isn't engaging the enemy.

That traitor Tarngord is letting the Amirathan Militia battle it out on its own.”

“In a few minutes nothing will be stopping you anymore. The cavalries are slaughtering them,” The Cheridonian said.

Anaxantis looked around.

“What is
he
doing here,” he exclaimed angrily when he saw Arranulf in the middle of the melee.

Luckily for the young duke, general Adolmach had stumbled on much the same idea as Hemarchidas. He had ordered his staunched men to stand around Arranulf. They were fulfilling their assignment so exemplary that Arranulf barely got a chance to use his sword.

Obyann had reached the last rows of the Landemere cavalry and was inching his way through them, looking for his friend.

“Obie,” he heard a familiar voice calling out from behind him.

He turned his horse, with some difficulty, and to his horror saw Rahendo and Ryhunzo riding towards him.

“What are you two doing here,” he barked exasperated.

“You shouldn't be here either,” Rahendo scolded him, undaunted. “And you're coming back with us and so is Nulfie. Or we all stay here. On your head be it.”

A mass of curls shook as Ryhunzo shrugged helplessly.

“Obe, my man, I never contradict him when he is in this... well, actually, I never contradict him full stop.”

Obyann hesitated.

“OK, but stay here, while I fetch Landemere. Then we'll ride back together,” he said.

“No, we're coming with you. I don't trust you, Obyann of Ramaldah,” Rahendo said decisively.

Ryhunzo whistled.

“Ooh... Obe, old boy, he called you by your full name. He is mad. Better not contradict him.”

The three pages guided their horses through the Landemere Cavalry ranks, on the look out for Arranulf.

“Stay here, in the middle,” Obyann said to the other two when he had spotted him.

Inching forward through the throng, he had almost reached Arranulf, when a sudden surge of Mukthars bended the Landemere line. To his surprise he suddenly found himself beset upon by two big, mean looking Mukthars. Drawing his sword, he was just in time to fend of one attacker, leaving himself wide open to the second one.

He had told Rahendo and Ryhunzo to wait for him on safer ground, but of course they had done no such thing. Which was why Rahendo was just in time to intercept a swing of the sword of Obyann's second assailant. The blow was so heavy the little page dropped his weapon. With a fierce grin the barbarian turned to him, his sword high above his head, as if he meant to split Rahendo into two halves right through his head.

Before he had the chance to let his weapon come down, the Mukthar felt, to his surprise, a sword pierce through his aMukthaugh Bermor, into his side.

“I don't think so,” Ryhunzo groaned, as he pulled his bloodied sword back.

Rahendo sat shivering upon his horse, totally aghast by what had just happened. Ryhunzo grabbed the reins he had dropped and guided him backwards into the ranks.

“Landemere,” Obyann yelled, which was rather counterproductive as half the cavalry turned to look at him.

“Arranulf,” he tried again.

The young duke, who, unwittingly surrounded by his bodyguard, was trying to find Hemarchidas in the seething mass before him, turned around.

“Obyann, you're not supposed—”

“Yeah, well, neither are you. Damn you, Landemere. I followed your sorry ass to keep you from this folly and now look what you've done,” Obyann raged. “The little ones—”

“Followed
your
sorry ass?”

“It's nothing to laugh about, Landemere. If the prince sees us there will be hell to pay. You're coming back with me. This instant. The little ones won't leave without you. The Gods know why. I would leave you in the flicker of an eye if it weren't for them.”

“Which is why you followed me here.” Arranulf smiled. “Just so you could leave me behind.”

“Keep it up, Landemere, and I swear, it won't take Mukthars to turn you into pot roast.”

There followed a stream of expletives, all belonging to the rich local patois of Ramaldah.

Only very few Mukthars remained at that particular spot of the field, and not for very long. Those who could, ran to safer grounds. Those who couldn't, died.

The inevitable result was that Anaxantis and his Clansmen made contact with the Landemere Cavalry. The prince saw the four pages and almost burst a vein.

“What, in all Murokthil, are you lot doing here?” he raged. “Didn't I give express orders that you were to stay on the ridge, behind the trees. Is nobody, nobody at all, following my orders anymore?”

Hemarchidas saw Arranulf looking at him with a hurt expression. He scraped his throat.

“Don't even try, Hemarchidas,” the prince bit at him. “I want them off the field. Now. Give them an escort of five Clansmen.”

Without even giving them a second glance he turned to general Adolmach.

“Take the whole of your cavalry and go relieve our Mukthar allies.”

The general hesitated and looked at his duke.

“Now, general,” Anaxantis shouted.

Adolmach turned in his saddle and signaled his men to veer to the left. The Landemere cavalry fell on the unsuspecting enemy Mukthars.

“We're disengaging,” Anaxantis said. “Timishi is safe enough. His opponents will soon be dead or routed.

First the Mirkadesh Home Guard. They're on foot. We'll follow when they're halfway back.”

“There's at least five thousand Mukthars left here,” Hemarchidas protested. “They could join Shigurtish.”

“Oh, they will,” Anaxantis answered, “but it doesn't matter. I need, I need to get back and get the Ximerionian army moving. The Militia can't hold out much longer, even if Ma movinvener.rak—”

He looked to his far left, trying to gauge what was happening, but Shigurtish troops blocked his view.

“
Marak, damn you, where are you?”
he thought frantically.

At that very moment Marak was guiding his six hundred archers over the Zinchara, under cover of the Militia.

“Quick, quick,” he goaded them on. “Keep your bows above your head. Don't let your bowstrings get wet.”

He had seen the little hill that Timishi had occupied. It was ideal.

Once they had reached it, they were facing the flank of Shigurtish's cavalry. He divided his archers roughly in two groups. One he kept on ground level, the other three hundred he let take up position halfway up the slope.

Marak had trained his archers in the use of the longbow, a fierce weapon. A good archer could shoot at least three, some even five arrows a minute. Almost man high, the bows had an enormous fire power. In the hands of a good archer, its arrows could pierce through armor, right through the breast plate, the hauberk, a man's chest, again through the hauberk with its point coming out of the harness on the other side.

“Men,” Marak said, “you've been trained and you've been trained well. Pick out your man and just see that you hit him. He doesn't need to be dead. Severely wounded, knocked off his horse, whatever. It will do. Don't waste another arrow on him. We have but a limited supply. The wagons with our spare arrows didn't arrive.

What we carry with us is all we have. Once they're gone, we're out. So, make them count.”

In quick succession, the first group, then the second group let fly a deadly volley over the river into the thick packed Mukthar cavalry. It was almost impossible to miss.

What ensued was complete chaos in the enemy ranks. Literally hundreds of horsemen were falling off their horses, most of them dead or dying. Not a few arrows hit the horses. The wounded animals panicked and tried desperately to get away from danger. They trampled the fallen men, while their riders, if still in the saddle, held on for dear life.

A little deeper down the ranks nobody knew exactly what was happening, except that it was bad. They soon found out however when the retreating cavalry exposed them to the arrows.

In less than twenty minutes the Mukthar cavalry had ceased to exist as a fighting force. More than two thirds had died or lay mortally wounded on the ground. The remnants fled as fast as they could, since there was no defense against the arrows. They were used to being shot at by hand bows, not by longbows whose arrows pierced through armor, and not in volleys that almost clouded the sun.

As suddenly as the deadly rain had started, it stopped. Marak's men had run out of ammunition. The Amirathan cavalry saw its chance and chased the routing enemy.

Shigurtish had to look on helplessly as a sizable portion of his army was decimated. He had no idea where his half brother Khrunosh was, or whether he had survived the carnage. He made a rough estimate and took heart. The Ximerionians had obviously run out of arrows, or they would still be shooting them. His personal companions on horseback and the whole of his infantry were still intact. He calculated he had between fifteen and eighteen thousand men left. The little frishiu had sustained some losses himself by n. The sellatow and he could far less afford them. He sent out scouts to see if the trap he had set for him had worked.

Shigurtish gave the example, and exhorting his men, charged into the Militia.

The combined forces of Timishi's Wolf Mukthars and the Landemere cavalry were slowly but certainly making inroads into the enemy numbers.

Surrounded as they were, the Mukthars grouped together in a more or less elongated circular formation.

Lorcko reached the place of the action at the moment the enemy lost all hope to emerge victorious out of this localized conflict. Mukthars began to run away in the direction of Shigurtish's position, looking for safety in numbers. Like all panicking animals they were extremely dangerous.

Lorcko saw Timishi, who was still engaged in a fierce struggle. He had almost reached him when Rodomesh noticed him and called out to him.

Timishi looked up in surprise.

“Lorsho—” he began. “Look out,” he shouted, “to your left.”

Lorcko was in the way of an enemy Mukthar who tried to make his escape. He looked in the indicated direction and saw an ax coming down. He raised his sword, but would have been too late, if Shermy hadn't appeared as out of nothing. Driving his horse between the page and his assailant he managed to save Lorcko only by catching the blow himself. The enemy Mukthar saw his chance and ran for it, while Shermy fell from his horse on the ground.

Lorcko hastily dismounted. He didn't see how Timishi, Rodomesh, Navrisha and a few others formed a protective circle around him and Shermy. The little Mukthar was bleeding out of a vicious looking wound in the left side of his chest. Lorcko kneeled beside him and took his hand.