The Protector of Esparia (The Annals of Esparia Book 1) (35 page)

“You’re right.”  She followed him to the wooden table.  “From the maps Lepsis gave us, Rendaira is a good three days away.”  She pointed to an open map and followed an imaginary route with her finger.  “It would take his men at least six days to take Jessica from the Colossus Forest to his estate.”

The front flap to the tent opened and several men walked in, the first of twelve, high-ranking officers. The men looked pleased to see Gammet.  John had called this meeting after learning the seventh bar was free and coming to him.  He felt the experienced soldier would have invaluable advice and wanted a last minute pep talk and tactical session with his leaders.  Within a half hour, each one of the summoned men arrived, with Reese being among the last.

“Grandfather,” he cried on seeing him and ran to the older man.  They warmly embraced, neither one able to speak.  The others in the tent politely turned their backs and tried to continue with non-essential matters.  John would have liked nothing better than to give the family members time together, but the reunion needed to be cut short by the business at hand.

“We’ve received another shipment of armor and shields from the province of Ironton.  We have both chain mail armor and solid steel armor.”  John began.  “Have your supply masters requisition what you need.  I want every soldier outfitted with the best we can offer.  Now, report.”

One by one, the men gave an accounting of their preparations.  Positioned throughout the entire line were packhorses loaded down with extra arrows for the archers, more stones for the slings and hundreds of javelins.  Each combatant in the army and horse in the cavalry was protected by high quality armor.  Discipline was strict and the men were training non-stop since advancing to the front lines.  The consequences of defeat were drilled into each soldier.

When the reports were given and the necessary adjustments made, John came to the last item of business.  “Three days ago I received a message from Healer Larone telling me my daughter has been captured by Elitet.”

The men looked at him, some with pity and some with horror.  Reese let out an involuntary, “No!” 

“We now understand the reason for the attack’s delay.  Daenon was waiting for a special hostage, and now he has her, but this turn of events makes no difference to me.  I won’t fight any differently, and I will not let this cloud my judgment.  I assume the attack will come within the next five to six days.  I want our troops to advance into Palium and Snow Peak.  It’s time to make them free. 

“Make sure each tiern is secure before moving on.  I don’t want stupid mistakes made with people’s lives.  I have been in contact with several underground groups who are waiting for us.  I want strict orders given to leave the women and children unmolested and the farms intact.  We have good supply lines that are heavily guarded, so I don’t want to leave the local populace devastated.  Remember, the people were once part of Esparia, but through stupid choices lost their freedom.  We are rescuers, not conquerors.”

Every man nodded in agreement.  John knew this would be the easy part. 
Now for the hard part,
he thought
.
  “Once Palium and Snow Peak are secure, we will advance into the Deserts of Demar.”

Lyrista smiled, they all smiled.  “Demar needs to be annexed to Esparia as a new province, or several new provinces,” John continued.  “Our attitude is one of liberation.  The same orders go for the women, children, farms and tierns of Demar as for those of Palium and Snow Peak.  Let’s not give the desert people extra reasons to hate us.  I’m not waging a war for vengeance, but for justice.  There
is
a difference.  Does anyone have a problem with that?”

There were no objections.  “If any soldier is caught looting, burning, or in the least way harming civilians, he will be immediately and harshly dealt with as a criminal,” John warned.

“Seventh Bar Gammet,” he turned to the distinguished man, “I’d appreciate it if you would come with me to inspect the troops today and tomorrow.  The word of your escape has spread throughout the camps and the sight of you will greatly inspire the men.  Then, I need you to take command of a fresh division being sent from Ramadine.  The soldiers should be here in three days and will need an experienced leader.  I want your men to be ready to move at a moment’s notice to where ever they may be needed.”

“Thank you,” Gammet said with a nod toward John.  “You can count on me.”

Ru was studying the maps while John gave his last orders.  He ran his finger along the dotted line representing the Demar-Palium border.  “Small groups of native Demarian resistance fighters are located here and here,” he said, pointing to two dashes on the map about an inch apart.  “I was sheltered by this group here,” he indicated the more northern dash, “while assessing the Demarian strengths a month ago.  They call themselves Ghost Walkers and are led by a man named Farin.  He said he would help us, but not until we are fifty filons from his border.  He wants to make sure we are within striking distance before he shows his hand and allows Daenon to learn his whereabouts.”

“It’s good to know not all the Demarians have been taken in by Daenon,” John commented.  “Ghost Walkers, huh.  Why that particular name?”

“I don’t know, but if Farin knew of your daughter’s abduction, he might be willing to help her.”

John grasped at the possibility.  “Do you have a way of getting a message to him?”

“Not right now, but once inside Palium, I could contact him through the Second Older of Rown, the dine located here, just inside the province,” he pointed to a medium-sized dot about twenty filons inside Palium.

“I’ll leave it to you then.”

When the meeting was over, John held Lyrista back.  “I need thirty of your best scouts.  I want Daenon’s lines penetrated by at least forty filons.  I want to know how many reserve troops he has and where they are.  Only an idiot would have all his men bunched up at the front with nothing in reserve, and someone on Daenon’s team is no idiot.”

* * *

Daenon, Addex and their escort made it to the front in record time.  The seventh bars were at attention when Daenon rode into his headquarters.  The Demarian command tent was as different from the Esparian as Rendaira was from Ramadine.  A sprawling tent, it consisted of five well furnished rooms with thick, woven rugs covering the ground.  The main chamber held soft chairs and a couch with silk pillows, as well as a large table in the center and ten polished silver candle stands around the perimeter.

Daenon began giving orders as soon as he entered it.  “I want updated maps and information on last minute troop movements.  I also want to know the exact position of John Ernshaw.  I will give one thousand silver coins to the men who catch him alive and bring him to me.”  He looked at the map in front of him and pointed to a starred point in the center of Ramana.  “Ramadine is finally within reach.  I want it leveled to the ground, with Larone put in chains.”  He smiled at the mental picture, then hit the table with his fist.  “Spread the word.  We attack at dawn.”

It was a well-coordinated attack.  Daenon set a precise timetable, and as one his Northern army, Southern army and Hentan army mounted an all-out assault.  He counted on a swift victory.

* * *

Ophir worked day and night to prepare the people of Galland for war.  He was gratified to see how vigorously they responded to his efforts and the passion the people had for their independence.  Bolstered by the hundred thousand troops John had sent and the tons of weapons, armor and supplies from Larone, he was optimistic.  He commanded a force of over two hundred fifty thousand foot soldiers and forty thousand cavalry. 

He divided his men in groups of twenty thousand, with three thousand cavalry each, and numbered them one through ten.  He spaced his armies along the western border according to his spies’ information, only two filons from the Hentan army.  The farms, tierns, and cities within fifty filons of the front line were evacuated and the fields burned.  Ophir wanted nothing left for the Hentans to pillage or take as booty.  The cities beyond the fifty-filon line were well fortified.  Ophir was as ready as he could be. 

He received John’s communication giving the calculated timetable for the attack.  It came as predicted, at the rising of the sun on the fifteenth of the month, a hot, cloudless day.  When the first rays of morning sun peeked over the horizon, the Hentan forces, bolstered by one hundred thousand Demarian regulars, streamed over the Gallish border. 

Galland was a heavily wooded country.  Only three highways connected Hent and Galland, one in the north, one in the south and one in the very center.  Thick forests covered the rest of the border, providing good coverage for Ophir’s archers.  Thousands of men hid in the tops of the trees lining the three main roads and thousands more in the surrounding woodlands.  Protective blinds were built and camouflaged in the larger treetops, with three to five archers assigned to each.  Extra ropes were rigged high up in the branches so the men could swing from tree to tree as a means of escape.  Two filons of forest that lay between the Hentan and Gallish armies were prepared in this manner.  Ophir and his seventh bars had barely enough time to secure the bowmen in place, with the last man being hidden the night before the assault.  Had Daenon attacked sooner, or had John ordered his forces to begin the fighting, Galland would not have been ready.

The foot soldiers stood three men deep, with the slingers in front and cavalry protecting the flanks.  They were positioned on deforested farmland up and down the border, ready to receive the enemy.  The ten divisions were clumped into three groups and assigned to the three main highways.  Advance scouts and runners informed the Gallish seventh bars where the enemy points of penetration were located and the divisions were deployed accordingly.

Galland was outnumbered two to one.  Ophir hoped the intensive training each man had gone through in the few short weeks he had commanded them would be sufficient to carry them through.  He personally took command of the fourth, fifth, sixth and seventh divisions in the center of the country, at the middle highway.

The first reports coming from the woods were encouraging.  When the first line of Hentan brown uniforms marched across the Gallish border, the archers let fly their shower of arrows.  Many found their mark in exposed arms, legs, necks and faces as well as striking at skewed angles under metal breastplates.  The human wave of heavily armored men momentarily faltered under the assault.  Many archers pulled their bows at close quarters, thus making certain their prey would never leave the forest. 

The sound of snapping bowstrings and whistling arrows hitting their marks reverberated through the woodlands.  Thousands of enemy soldiers fell to unseen attackers.  Soon the main highway leading into Galland was filled with dead and wounded Hentans, rendering the road impassable.  The foot soldiers were forced to detour through the surrounding forests where more hidden archers waited. 

The tree forts were well placed, providing ample protection for the lightly clad occupants.  Ophir dressed his men in colors resembling the forest around them.  They wore no cumbersome armor, as they needed to move freely among the sturdy treetops.  When a fort was compromised, the Galland archers grabbed the escape ropes, swinging out of the forests in organized retreats.  Not every archer made it out, but the vast majority did.  They inflicted great damage on the enemy. 

The Hentan cavalry fell behind the advancing foot soldiers, their horses stumbling over the bodies littering the roads.  The enemy emerged from the forests disorganized and without cavalry backup.  They had not expected such resistance from Galland.  When the Hentan officers tried to shout orders to their confused men, Ophir ordered the Gallish slingers and spearmen into action.  Being men of great strength, the slingers hurled four and five-pound weights.  The Hentan helmets were of little protection against these crashing meteorites.  Needle sharp, metal tipped javelins replaced arrows as highflying projectiles, easily piercing the enemy armor.  The Hentan soldiers fell by the thousands, but still they pressed forward, a seemingly innumerable army, being urged on by the Demarian troops.

Astride his loyal stallion, Ophir positioned himself at the head of the Gallish army.  “The blue flags,” he ordered.  Up and down the long line of troops, blue flags waved to signal the cavalry advance.  With a roar, the horsemen galloped forward, their bright swords flashing in the sunlight.  Slashing left and right, they cut down huge pockets of the enemy, but were soon hard pressed by the sea of advancing men.  Slowly retreating, they led the Hentans to the waiting Gallish infantry. 

“Horns!” Ophir shouted.  With blasts from scores of deep-throated horns, the foot soldiers charged in.  The dreadful battle raged throughout the day and long into the night.  The Gallish soldiers fought valiantly, moving with precision at each command Ophir gave, their long hours of preparation showing in their discipline.  They made the Hentan army pay dearly for every foot of ground it advanced. 

All along the Gallish border the clash of swords and the agonizing cries of men and horses could be heard.  By midnight, the enemy at last retreated back into the forests.  What was at first a death trap now became a refuge for them.  Hent had won the first few filons of land within the Gallish border, but at a terrible price. 

“Everyone knows his duty,” Ophir instructed his commanders.  “The enemy has withdrawn for the night.  It’s time for our medical people to retrieve the wounded.  Remember, I want anyone alive to be attended to, be he friend or foe.”  When the work of clearing the living from the muddy, blood stained farmland commenced, Ophir began reorganizing his shattered divisions.  By morning, he was ready to receive Hent.