The Protector of Esparia (The Annals of Esparia Book 1) (37 page)

During these days of conflict, Cordon had instructed the men to sleep in full armor with their weapons by their sides.  They charged the Demarians.  The fighting continued for hours with Cordon’s men slowly pushing the enemy back.  When the sun settled in the western horizon, for the first time, the Demarian ranks broke.  By hundreds, then thousands, the enemy surrendered, and many more fled, leaderless, back into the woods.

It was nearly midnight when Cordon met once again in the command tent with his remaining officers.  They were in the process of reassigning legions when Alberod, medical bag in hand, walked in on them.  He looked at the injured men and shook his head, a disgusted look on his face.  “None of you leave until I’ve had a chance to piece you back together,” he interrupted.

One by one, the healer tended the wounded officers, for none had escaped without several sword wounds or burns.  When he came last of all to Cordon, he frowned at the dried blood plastering his friend’s brow.  The meeting was at a close, and the freshly bandaged officers left Cordon in Alberod’s care.

“Cordon,” Alberod began in a lecturing tone, “what did I tell you about letting these wounds fester?” 

Before Cordon could defend himself, two of the advance scouts staggered in, completely out of breath.  Fearing the worst, Cordon jumped to his feet. 

“No sir,” a scout quickly said.  “You misunderstand our haste.  We bring heartening news; the Demarians are on the run.  They are retreating back into Snow Peak, heading for Lansterdine, the provincial capitol.”

* * *

In the far north, it took the Demarian army an entire day to traverse the few filons of thin forests, as the Maronian archers kept them from any rapid advancement.  It was nearly noon of the second day when Lepsis finally saw the enemy break through the forested death trap. 

“Here they come,” he yelled when the first black uniforms came into view.  “Slingers…spearmen…do your damage.” 

Taking aim, the human ballistae launchers hurled their projectiles.  When the deadly missiles found their marks, men screamed out in agony.  Demarian counter measures came flying back.  Anticipating these, the Maronian shields were thick and forged of the purest, strongest palium steel, thus providing the best protection possible.

“Hornmen,” Lepsis addressed those who sounded the short bugles, “blow the signal for retreat.”
It is time to spring our little trap. 
A rush of adrenaline coursed through his veins.  When the horns blasted out the short, staccato retreat warning, the cavalry and footmen fell back, without ever engaging the enemy on a hand-to-hand level.  The plan was to draw the Demarians well away from the line of hidden, underground Maronians.  To Lepsis’ gratification, the enemy charged forward, following their prey.  The overcast and gloomy weather aided in the concealment of Lepsis’s men when the enemy crossed over the hidden burrows.

“It’s working!”  Lepsis tensed as he closely monitored the action.  “The last enemy has cleared our hidden rows of men.  Now hornmen!  Blow the assault signal!”

At the long, sustained blasts of the horns, the ground erupted, and up from the depths of Edia came the hidden Maronians.  These were mighty men, the best warriors Marone could offer.  Ferociously, they fell on the enemy’s rear, causing nearly the entire Demarian army to stop its pursuit of Lepsis and turn to fight. 

Lepsis led his frontline soldiers directly into the fray, his cavalry assaulting the northern and southern flanks.  Unable to hold their position under the cavalry onslaught, the fringe Demarians were splintered into small units, many of which fled the battlefield.  The ring around the enemy closed.

In the end, they could not hold against the determined Maronians, whose leaders continuously reminded their men of their reasons for fighting, and the men responded with astounding vigor.  After twenty exhausting hours, the tide of battle turned irreversibly in favor of the Maronians.  The enemy as a whole could not retreat, though many individuals escaped back into the woods, and they could not move forward.  Their leaders tried to slash their way to freedom, with many troops succeeding during the night, but for the most part, Lepsis, with his unfaltering Maronians, stood firm.

By morning, with the victory undisputedly his, Lepsis called for a halt to the killing.  “Sound the ‘cease all action’ call.”  When the horns rang out, two short blasts followed by one long note, the clashing of steel stopped.  The Maronians stepped several paces back from their foes. 

Since much of the battle had raged by the light of two moons, Lepsis was unaware of the extent of the carnage about him.  Now, in the increasing light of a new sunrise, the destruction appeared obscene.  Thousands of bodies stretched for as far as he could see, their spilt blood mixing with the dry earth to create a sticky, foul mud.  The twisted corpses, many limbless and headless, were further disfigured by the trampling feet of living combatants.  The acrid smell of blood hung so thick in the air he could taste it with every breath he took. 

“Men of Demar, I am Lepsis, prince of Marone,” he shouted for all to hear.  “Look about you and see the death of your people.  We do not delight in your slaughter.  Many of your comrades have already surrendered.  Throw down your weapons and cease this useless struggle.”

From deep within the enemy ranks a tired voice rang out.  “We are not Demarians.  We are natives of Palium and Snow Peak.  The Demarians escaped hours ago.”

A murmur of surprise rose from the Maronians.  “Then why do you fight us?”  A soldier asked.

In response, a man stumbled from the main body of defeated men.  He threw down his sword and unbuckled his armor.  Tottering on his feet he cried out, “For the drug!  It is the drug that compels us,” then he crumbled to his knees. 

Another man came forward, adding his armor and sword to that of the first.  “Before the battle began, we were filled with that cursed drug.  It clouds our minds, but now its effects are gone and we’re left empty.” 

“Help us, brothers!” another agonized voice pleaded.

“Throw down your weapons,” Lepsis called.  “I swear to you, what help we can give, we will.” 

Visibly shaking from withdrawal, the remaining combatants dropped their weapons.  The few who did not were forced into submission by their comrades. 

Lepsis openly wept.  Tens of thousands of bodies lay piled for as far as he could see.  The ground was soaked in blood and gore, the stench drifting with the morning wind. 

“We’ll burn the dead, then secure this region.  Once done, we liberate Snow Peak,” he ordered.

The Fight for Esparia

The South

With more men marching into camp every day, John accumulated an army of seven hundred thousand spread out over several hundred filons of the Palium border.  His defenses consisted of one hundred thousand cavalry, one hundred thousand archers, one hundred thousand slingers and spearmen and four hundred thousand foot soldiers. 

Because the Palium border stretched twice as far as the Snow Peak border, John was uncertain where the entire enemy was located, so the troop positions constantly fluctuated with his best guesses.  Even though he had the updated advance scout reports, there was a nagging feeling Daenon was somehow hiding a large portion of his army. 

The Palium-Ramana border consisted of flat grassland with a few gently rolling hills.  John took personal command of this region.  The Palium-Kine border was more wooded, and Reese commanded there.  John had given Reese, with his seventh bars, free rein to do what they felt was best in their region.  Reese was young and smart, but more importantly, besides John, Cordon, Ophir and Gammet, the only Esparian leader to have been in a real battle.  The few active military officers who participated in the Battle at Blue Mountain fifty years earlier were killed in the Saylon Dorsett massacre.  Reese’s combat experience was invaluable, and he was a natural leader.  John felt confidence in the youthful seventh bar’s abilities.

By the fourteenth, none of Lyrista’s thirty specialized scouts were heard from.  Their mission was to penetrate fifty filons past the Demarian line at the Palium border and send word about enemy reserve strength.  Since there was no communication with these men for over a week, John feared the worst.

With the palpable certainty of war hanging over the camp, John held his final council meeting.  No real measurement of the enemy strength could be given, so they did their best to finalize troop positions and supply lines.  When the meeting ended, the grim faced seventh bars and upper ranking officers filed from the command tent.  Lyrista hung back.

“I’m worried about my scouts, at least one should be back by now.”  Lyrista’s face was lined with concern. 

“I know, but there’s nothing we can do.  They knew the dangers.”  John tried to sound comforting.

“I hand picked them, they would never have turned the assignment down.”  She laced her fingers behind her neck and looked up at the tent ceiling.  “This is real.  This is war.  It’s one thing to teach about it at the defense academy, but it’s another to live it.  People are going to die, people I care about.”  She dropped her hands and bit her lip.  “Everyone’s supposed to live a hundred and eighty years, not die in their youth.”  Tears stung her eyes and one slipped down her cheek.

John wiped it away with his finger.  “Yes, this is real life and people you know are going to die.  I don’t like it any more than you do.  Why do you think I hesitated so long before agreeing to this position?  I’ve seen war, seen its horrors, but I’m committed.  Whatever it takes, I’m going to see this thing through.”

“What about Jessica?  What if Daenon uses her to get to you?”  Lyrista put into words the thoughts John tried to avoid.  Her face reflected the anguish he felt.

He shook his head.  “It makes no difference.  If it comes down to it, she’ll understand.”  He said no more, but his message was clear.

Lyrista swallowed hard and wiped at her eyes.  “I won’t fall apart, John.  You can count on me.”

He gave her a drawn smile.  “Are the civilians evacuated?”

“Yes.  The last left yesterday.  Seventy filons are free of innocents and those remaining are fortifying the major dines to your specifications.  They’re well stocked with provisions and weapons in case of a siege.”

“You’ve done a great job.”

“Keeping busy helps me focus.”

“Good, because I have another job for you.  I need you to take charge of the wounded.  They’ll need transporting from the battlefield to the hospitals.  I’ve given orders to the third battalion that they’re under your command for this very purpose.”

“You don’t believe in giving much notice, do you?” 

“Well, I’ve seen you work best under pressure.”

She smiled and light replaced the sadness in her eyes.

When midnight approached, John was filled with nervous energy.  Since sleep seemed impossible, he decided to make one last walking tour through the individual camps closest to his tent.  Only a few minutes into his stroll, he spotted a figure moving ghostlike between the small fires.  It was Gammet. 

The seventh bar’s presence helped inspire the troops, so John was grateful to have the aging warrior with him, but he noticed the man looked drawn and tired all the time.  He had difficulty focusing on details in their tactical meetings, his mind never fully on the matters at hand.  He never smiled, never joked and only once volunteered his opinion.  Just as now, he wandered the camps at night, a lone figure going from fire to fire, never actually talking with anyone.  Recognizing the signs of deep depression, John tried to keep the man busy with training young recruits and assigning supplies to the various divisions. 

John made certain each of his men had full armor, from rock-hard steel helmets to specialized leg gear, with the option of chain mail or solid metal covering their vital organs.  When Anton ordered arms from Ironton, it was made clear that only the finest materials were to be used.  The life of every soldier depended on quality equipment. 

Each man carried a shield and trained hard to properly use it.  The rectangular plates were weapons in and of themselves.  Each one had a sharp, spear-style point built into it extending outward eight inches from the center.

John commanded his archers and slingers to practice on horseback.  They became expert at guiding their mounts with only their knees at full gallop, leaving their hands free to shoot at any target.  In the open ranges, this ability could provide the difference between victory and defeat.

As expected, the attack came at dawn on the fifteenth and John’s men stood ready.  Foot soldier formation was three men deep and the cavalry was interspersed in groups of six thousand.  The archers, slingers and spearmen were placed in front of the foot soldiers, along with hundreds of pack horses loaded with extra arrows, stones and javelins. 

When the enemy came into view the Esparians watched while their frontline of mounted archers and throwers swung into action.  First arrows, then stones and javelins flew westward.  A similar volley flew eastward from the enemy lines and the soldiers used their shields testudo style for protection against the deadly projectiles. 

Before him lay an endless sea of humanity and John felt sick at the knowledge of what was ahead of them.  The battle was ferocious, lasting the entire day.  Men and horses fell dead and wounded, and the ground ran red with their blood.  John led his troops, with shield in one hand and the Sword of Judgment in the other.  Having mastered the sword’s cut and feint techniques, his skill saved the life of many a man by heroic leaps and well-aimed thrusts.  All day his arm cut, slashed and stabbed at the well-armored enemy around him.  Fortunately, John’s peripheral vision was excellent and many times he saw, from the corner of his eye, an enemy strike.  With a quick turn of his shield he protected not only himself, but also men around him.  He suffered several wounds, but nothing that could not be quickly bandaged. 

John was vaguely aware of his other leaders; thankful they knew their duty and performed it with precision.  Twice he noticed Gammet positioned on the highest location, sunlight glistening off his polished armor, directing the reserves where they were needed the most.  Many times during the battle he witnessed Lyrista’s profound fighting talents while she protected those who transported the wounded.  She inflicted her share of damage to the Demarian army, never flinching or backing away.  All day long her battalion protected the medics and transport personnel from the makeshift hospitals.  More than once Lyrista herself wielded her sword as guardian while a surgeon bound one of John’s deeper wounds.

Finally, at the setting of the sun, as if on cue, the soldiers separated to their respective camps.  The day ended in a draw, with neither army gaining ground.  Meals were prepared, the wounded cleared from the battlefield, and the men tried to sleep.  John, astride Fireguard, rode the length of the camp, trying to assess the damage.  He found three of his seventh bars dead and many lesser officers out of commission.  Knowing he needed to replace these men, his first thought was of Ru.  It did not take him long to locate the fourth bar, rearming his men and organizing others around him. 

“Ru,” John called.  “You are no longer a fourth bar.  I’m promoting you directly to seventh bar.  You’re the seventh bar in charge of the fourth, fifth and sixth legions.”

Ru looked thunderstruck.  “Sir,” he exclaimed, “I prefer to lead the Guardians at your side, as I have done this day.”

“Sorry Ru, but I’ve seen your leadership and tactical abilities.  You’re better used as a commander of thousands than a leader of hundreds.”  The man nodded, visibly not happy about the promotion.  “I have one more promotion to make and then I’m calling a council in my tent.  Be there in an hour.”

Ru, Gammet, Lyrista, and four other seventh bars, met with John in the command headquarters.  “I’ve combined the sixth and seventh light infantry divisions,” John began.  “You seventh bars are in charge of reorganizing your divisions and appointing your replacement officers.  By now you’ve had a chance to assess what needs to be done.  Lyrista, we need…”

“I’ve already begun shipping more supplies to the archers, slingers, and spearmen,” she said.

For the first time that day, he smiled.  “I can always count on you.”  He held up two small pieces of paper.  “I’ve received communiqué’s from Reese and Cordon.  Reese’s day went even worse than ours, he’s lost several filons of ground.  There’s little I can do to help him, and it’s frustrating.  I can’t spare a single man, so I’ve sent a note to Larone asking him to send reinforcements south.  Cordon gives me cause to be grateful, he’s holding his own and feels victory is in the air.  No news from Lepsis or Ophir yet.  If there’re no questions, then we’ll adjourn now, you have much to do before dawn.”

Finding himself alone and unable to sleep, John headed for one of the field hospitals. 
At least I can do some good in surgery. 

Just before dawn a runner burst through the surgery doors.  Catching John’s eye, he stammered, out of breath, “Protector, the enemy comes!”

“I’m on my way,” John said while he finished the last stitch on a soldier’s chest.  He raced from the hospital to his own tent, with scarcely enough time to throw on his armor, grab his sword and shield, and race to the front of his troops before the fighting began anew.

The second and third days of conflict went much like the first, except the Esparians lost ground--a great deal of ground.  During the second day, the battle line was slowly pushed back by constant pressure from the enemy, but on the third day the Demarian heavy cavalry pressed hard on John’s southern flank.  Before Gammet could send reinforcements, the men broke under the stress.  Running, they retreated by thousands, causing a domino effect down the entire Esparian line.  It was well into the evening before John and his seventh bars could reorganize the men, and with the help of the archers and slingers, temporarily repulse the pursuing Demarians. 

John slept little during the next two days, his nights being spent in conferences with Gammet and Ru and what other officers were still on their feet.  Legions were reorganized and assignments given.  There was high praise for the archery and slinger companies.  They were remarkable on their mounts and had saved many comrades from certain death.  Lyrista had her hands full with protecting and transporting the wounded.

The reports sent from Ophir and Reese were grim.  Both were being slowly pushed back, but their men bravely stood up to the enemy.  They knew the cost of defeat.  On the fifth day, John’s men held strong, so he decided to send thirty thousand troops south to aid Reese, who was pushed back to the evacuation line, then he sent a message to Cordon asking for any troops he could spare.

At around midnight, one of Lyrista’s thirty missing scouts stumbled, half dead, into camp.  John had just lain down to catch some precious sleep when he was summoned, and he came at a run.  He found the man in Ru’s arms, being carried to the field hospital. 

The poor man had been tortured and could barely talk.  “Rebels…Farin…freed me,” he said haltingly.  He took a deep breath.  “Daenon…thousands and thousands and thousands…fresh troops…tomorrow.”  They reached the hospital where Ru gave the scout up to the very capable healers. 

John moaned inside as the message sunk in.  “This explains why Lepsis and Cordon are having victories, Daenon obviously misjudged the strength of the Maronian army and didn’t send enough troops northward,” he commented to Ru when they walked back to the command tent.  “If he had sent those reserves north, our troops there would be in big trouble now.”

Ru nodded.  “I don’t think we can hold against that many fresh soldiers.”

John looked at the two moons, one full and the other nearly there.  “We’ll have to, that’s all there is to it.  I’ll send an emergency message to Larone, but I’ve already told him to send reinforcements to Reese; I don’t know how many more men he has to deploy.  Hopefully Lepsis and Cordon can spare troops, but they won’t be here for several days.”