Chapter Three
Rael swore as sweat rolled into his eyes and he blinked furiously to ease the burning. He used his shield to smash aside the vicious hooked blade of a Melac spearman and in the same move swung his sword around, over, and down onto the man's arms. The meaty thunk of metal through flesh and bone was absorbed by the sounds of battle. Beneath him, his horse struck out with steel-edged hoofs, giving Rael time to yank free his blade, turn, and open the face of the man who threatened on his right. He tightened his legs and the warhorse leaped forward. Another Melacian went down, gurgling blood, his ribs a mass of splintered bone.
Then there was nothing in front of them but a rock-strewn slope, and the stallion stretched into a canter. They thundered up the hill, wheeled at the crest, and looked down over the valley. The warhorse stopped so suddenly at Rael's command that the prince rocked in the saddle. After four passes across the valley, cutting their way through the enemy position, the animal knew that this was his chance to rest and he stood, sides heaving, while Rael, no less winded, lifted his visor to better suck in great lungfuls of air. Beside and behind him, other members of the Elite did the same.
The valley held a seething mass of men and weapons and dead and dying. Hale's horsemen, more lightly armored than the Elite, darted in and out of the melee, sabers red and dripping. The space was too enclosed for their speed and maneuverability to be totally effective, but they stung the flanks of the enemy like gadflies. The ducal guards of Belkar, Cei, and Aliston fought in clumps, lending their strength and skill when they could to the farmers, fishermen, and herdsmen who fought beside them but too used to fighting as units to do more than slow the slaughter of the common folk. Over it all, crows and other carrion birds rode the updrafts, waiting for nightfall and their time in the valley.
Safely out of it for the moment, Rael was conscious of the noise in a way he hadn't had time to be while he fought. It filled the bowl of the valley, the deep-voiced defiance of thousands of men and the slam and clatter of thousands of weapons, with eddies of greater noise where the fighting was fiercest, and every now and then a scream piercing through the din like torchlight through smoke.
From here, Rael mused, the Ardhan and Melacian dying sounded very much alike.
From a distance, as though he wandered through someone else's mind, he considered the absence of terror and disgust and shame-at what he'd seen and what he'd done. His ability to feel had gone as numb as his nose; he'd long since stopped noticing the omnipresent stench of blood and guts and sweat. His brain had apparently decided to concentrate on the essentials, survival and command, and let all else wait until later. "Much later, " he prayed, remembering how he'd felt during the butchery of the first charge. "Please, much later.
"Over there, look!"
Down the line, one of the Elite called and pointed and the men raised a ragged cheer as a flight from Belkar's archers collapsed an advancing enemy line.
Although the rest of the Elite saw the arrows as smudges against the sky and could tell only by their direction which side fired and which died, with his mother's eyes, Rael watched each double-barbed arrow land, diving deep to burrow through armor and into the soft meat beneath. He tried not to flinch. It wouldn't look good.
"Cristof lost his horse, Commander, but he got out on his Half's stirrup. And we've got two cut reins from those damned hooked blades. "
Rael started as the First broke through his thoughts and, glad for an excuse to stop watching the carnage, he turned to face the officer.
"Keep the Halves together. " That much, at least, he knew he had to do. The Elite fought in pairs; each man a Half and each man's Half closer to him than mere comrade or friend. It was not a commitment all chosen for the Elite were willing to make and those men who weren't stayed in the Guard, but it was a part of why the Elite fought so fiercely; each Half knew another's life depended on his skill. "Have Cristof's Half give his reins to repair the two reins cut. Then the Pair can head back, get outfitted again and rejoin us on the far side of the valley after the next pass. "
"Very good, sir. " The standard response sounded like praise. An unorthodox solution, perhaps, but it kept together three Pairs who would have otherwise been split. The First moved away and began barking orders. The company's respite was nearly over.
"Yes, Commander, very good. " It seemed Doan's surly chestnut could move as silently as its rider. One moment the space to Rael's left stood empty, the next the captain filled it, perched-given the length of Doan's legs, there could be no other word for it-on his horse beside him. "These cross valley charges of yours seem to be working as well. You were right, the enemy does find it demoralizing to have us thunder down and through the middle of their position. "
Rael searched the captain's words for sarcasm and found, not praise, exactly, but acknowledgment of success. He was almost too tired to be pleased.
"You hurt?" Rutgar moved his horse closer to Rael's right and nodded at the blood that clotted and congealed down the prince's leg.
Rael looked down and shrugged. "Not mine. " He turned and studied his armsman.
"How about you?"
Rutgar touched a dent in the side of his helmet with his shield hand and grinned. "My ears'll ring for a while, but I'm all right. Who'd have thought they'd throw rocks?"
A quick glance around showed the Elite to be ready. Rael, prince and commander, slammed his visor down with the edge of his sword, touched his heels to his horse, and led the Elite on another slash of destruction through the foe.
The command tent was hot, smoky and entirely too full of sweaty, tired men; three dukes and Aliston's heir, for the Duke of Aliston was too old to travel so far and far too old to fight, eleven captains, the king, and the prince, all with the smell of battle clinging to them. Sweet candles had been lit, but the odor of blood and death refused to be defeated by jasmine and spice. Rael gritted his teeth and hoped his nose would go numb to this as well.
"We have to keep him in the valley where his position works against the number of men he's throwing against us. " The king jabbed at the map with his dagger.
"If he forces us out to the Tage Plateau, he'll be able to expand his front beyond our ability to contain him. He's got the manpower to flank us easily. "
"I hardly think easily, Sire. " Hale played with one beaded end of his mustache. "More room to maneuver could work to our advantage as well. "
"Well, I don't think every horse in your province could stop the number of men Melac is putting into the field. " Cei dabbed at his dripping nose with a square of cotton. "You can't herd men like cattle, you know. "
Hale raised both brows in a barely polite expression. "Oh? Can't I?"
"Gentlemen. " Raen's voice developed an edge. "It's a moot point what Hale's horsemen can or cannot do because I have no intention of allowing Melac out of the valley even if he dumps every able body in his kingdom on us. "
"Which he seems to be doing, " Belkar added dryly.
"Yes. . . well. . . " Raen directed their attention back to the map. "I think we can all see why he chose this pass. The Melac side may be difficult to maneuver through, but it opens so smoothly into Ardhan that once the valley's gained it's damned difficult for us to defend against him. "
Belkar scratched at a bandage wrapped around his knuckles and shook his head.
"And unfortunately this madman cares little how many men he wastes getting to our side of the mountains. "
"Fortunately for us, " Hale corrected smoothly. "The enemy arrives to fight us exhausted from righting the mountains. It gives us a small edge against his superior numbers. "
Cei sniffed and rubbed at his nose. His already lachrymose disposition had not been improved by a reaction to the plant life of the area. "What I don't understand is how a whole army got so close before we knew where it was going.
What I want to know is, why weren't Riven and Lorn watching their borders?"
"They were. Only by their v
igilance did we manage to arrive in time to contain Melac where we have. It would've gone a lot worse with us if the Dukes Riven and Lorn had not been watching their borders. And it would go a lot worse for us now if they and their men were not out in the mountains making sure that this is the only breach Melac makes. "
Cei hunched his bony shoulders under the lash of the king's voice.
"What amazes me, " Hale, cool and slightly amused, defused the rising tension, "is how they ever managed to agree that the attack would come here. They can't even agree whose province this valley is in. " He stretched out long legs, still in stained riding leathers. "I suppose if we win, they'll both claim it. "
Belkar nodded. "And if we lose, neither will want it. "
Many of the men chuckled and even Cei managed a smile. The young Dukes of Riven and Lorn were cousins, born less than two days apart. They had ascended their Seats within a year of each other and were alike right down to their taste in women and tinder-dry tempers. Tempers that had flared lately over a woman they both had a taste for.
Rael breathed a quiet prayer of thanks that neither duke was present. In reminding the company of their constant, albeit generally affectionate, bickering, Hale had averted a potentially bad situation. For all his wild-man posturings-and the barbaric affectation of his beaded mustache-Hale was a born diplomat. The prince hoped that someday he'd be half that smooth.
"I don't think we've any more to discuss. " Raen leaned forward. "We've had a long day, gentlemen, and we all need some sleep. It'll be more of the same tomorrow. "
The dukes and captains bowed and left, breaking into smaller groups outside the command tent as they headed back to their men. Finally, only Rael remained.
The king stood and put his arm around his son's shoulders as they walked to the open flap.
"I was proud of you today, son. You fought well. " Rael flushed. "I did no more than any man, sir. " Raen smiled. "Yes, well, I was proud of them all. "
They ducked out of the tent together and stood breathing deeply, clearing their lungs of candle smoke and their minds momentarily of battle plans. Two of the Palace Guard stepped forward to escort the king to his tent. Raen turned and cupped his son's face between his hands.
"And what did you think of your first day's battle?" he asked quietly.
Rael looked past the numbness that had mercifully continued even after the fighting had finished. "I hated it. "
"Good. " Raen kissed his child on the forehead yes, still his child in spite of size and age and armor- and allowed the Guard to lead him away.
In the tent he shared with his armsman, Rael stood while Ivan stripped him and sponged off the worst of the battle.
The old servant muttered to himself as he sponged, for purple and green bruises began to show against the clean skin. He wanted to scold but couldn't for fear of waking Rutgar who already slept, one arm flung up against the light. He turned down the blanket, trimmed the lamp, and would have suggested he pour wine had the prince not dismissed him. Still muttering, he gathered up the day's clothes and left.
Rael threw himself on his pallet and stared up at the canvas above his head.
"Hey. " Rutgar had risen up on one elbow. "You okay?"
Rael turned so he could see his armsman. "I thought you were asleep. "
Rutgar shrugged and grinned. "Nah, who could sleep with all that serving going on. "
Both young men turned their gaze on the outer chamber where Ivan still puttered about, then Rael! leaned back and sighed. "Rutgar, you've fought before, haven't you?"
"Yes, Commander, at the Tantac raids two summers ago. "
"How did you feel?"
Rutgar studied the prince's profile. There was a tightness to it that had not been there before. "How do you feel now?" he asked instead of answering.
"Numb. I don't feel anything. "
The armsman nodded. "That's how I felt, " he said and chewed his lip at the memories. "Numb. "
Rael sighed again. "I don't think I like it, this not feeling. "
"Don't worry, " Rutgar's voice was caught in the battles of two summers past,
"it wears off. " He reached up and pinched out the lamp. "Good night, Highness. "
* * *
The man should have been dead. With every beat of his heart more of his life pumped out the gaping hole in his chest, but still he advanced. His lips drew back in a rictus grin, blackened, rotted and fell away. The flesh of his face writhed with maggots, whole chunks dropping off to expose the yellow skull beneath.
Rael gagged on the stench and tried to back away, but his feet seemed rooted to the ground. He struggled to lift his leg, looked down, and saw that skeletal hands rising out of the earth held him firmly in place. Blackened nails dug into his ankles and anchored themselves by driving deep into his bones.
Still the Melacian spearman advanced, a shambling corpse hardly more than an arm's reach away.
The smell clotted into solid matter in Rael's nose and throat and he gasped for air.
He waved his sword at the monstrosity before him and found to his horror that the blade had become a strip of birch bark torn from the living surface of his mother's tree. The bark bled and called his name.
He forced enough air into his lungs to scream.
"Highness! Commander! Rael!"
Rutgar's face hung above him and Rutgar's hands were on his shoulders and nothing was coming at him out of the darkness.
Rutgar's mouth twisted in sympathy. "I told you, it wears off, " he said gently.
"I was dreaming. . . "
The armsman nodded. "I know. I had nightmares for months after the Tantac raids. " He sat back on his heels. "Still do occasionally. "
Rael released his grip on his blankets and lightly touched the back of Rutgar's hand. Warm. Living. "Thank you for waking me. "
Rutgar smiled, a warmer expression than his usual one-sided grin. "I'm here to guard your back, Commander. It's just a part of the service. "
His commander managed a weak smile in return.
"It won't always be this awful, " Rutgar reassured him, returning to his own pallet. "Too bad in a way. If the horror of wars stayed with us, maybe we'd stop having them. "
"Maybe, " Rael agreed. And lay for a long time listening to the quiet breathing from across the tent.
So ended the Ardhan army's first day in the valley.
He had flung himself off his horse when his Half went down, not knowing he was already too late to help, and now he was trapped. The Elite were the best and he had no doubt that one man at a time he could cut his way back to the Ardhan lines. But the enemy didn't face him one man at a time, or even two or three, there were a dozen at least. And he was surrounded. Through the bars of his visor he saw the last of his comrades break free of the battle and ride up the slope of the valley. He raised his sword in a fast salute and prepared to die.
"Commander! Nicoli is. . . "
"I see him. " The muscles in Rael's legs trembled as he forced them away from his horse's sides, forced them away from giving the order that would send the Elite charging down to rescue their fallen comrade.
"Commander, we can. . . "
"No. " And although he didn't have to explain, he continued. "We couldn't reach him in time. And I will not risk more lives to save a corpse. They'd know where we're heading and be waiting for us. " A murmur ran down the line as his words were passed and a mutter ran back. Rael felt their eyes on him, but he sat straight in his saddle, clenched his jaw, and kept his gaze on Nicoli as he fell.
That night, after the day's slaughter had ended, Rael sat in the dark on his pallet seeing again the two broken suits of armor that had been retrieved from the battlefield with the other bodies. Nicoli's lips had been drawn back in a snarl. His Half had merely looked surprised.
He froze when Rutgar entered the tent and protested weakly when the armsman lit the lantern hanging from the center pole.
Rutgar made no mention of the tear tracks that marked the prince's face or of what had happened that afternoon. He merely folded long legs, sat down beside his commander, and wordlessly held out the wineskin he carried.
Rael looked at it for a moment, as if unsure of what it was or what he was to do with it, then he took it, tilted back his head and filled his mouth.
His tongue curled up, his throat spasmed, and he barely prevented himself from spraying the mouthful of wine across the tent.
"What is this stuff?" he demanded, coughing and choking.
Rutgar rescued the wineskin and took a long pull. "It's what the men drink. A little rough for the royal palate perhaps, but. . . " He offered it again.
Rael took it, shrugged, and drank; this time managing to relax his throat enough to swallow. He drank again, then returned it. "You may end up protecting my back from my own men, " he said at last, staring into the flickering lamplight and rubbing his palms across his checks.
"They're soldiers. Any one of them would've made the same decision. "
The wineskin made another pass.
"But they didn't make it. I did. "
"You're the commander. It was your decision to make. "
Rael reached for the wineskin. "Yes. "
"They understand that. "
"But they would've preferred a rescue. "
"Yes. "
Rael drank again. "Mother-creator, but this stuff is awful. "
"It is, " Rutgar agreed. "But it does what it has to. "
And they drank in silence until it was gone.
So ended the Ardhan army's second day in the valley.
"Commander, over there!"
"I see them. "
The Elite had gained the valley's edge but had left a Pair behind in the battle. As one man, they turned their gaze on Rael. The day before, a Pair had died.
This day Rael looked and smiled. "One squad, " he called to the First beside him, pulled his stallion's head around and charged back down the path he'd just cut. This Pair was close enough and one was still mounted; this Pair, he could save. At the edge of his vision he saw the armored head of Rutgar's bay and close behind he heard the thunder of a dozen heavy horses.
The Melacian position, barely recovered from the last pass, crumbled before them.
Rael rammed the point of his lance through an enemy visor, rode it free and reached the lost Pair. The downed man, Payter, was pinned beneath his horse.
There was only one way to get him out. Rael kicked his feet clear of the stirrups and dropped to the ground.
Rutgar and Payter's Half stayed close while the squad began to circle their position, forming a living barricade against the Melacians.
The pike that had killed Payter's horse still stuck from its chest. It had reared and come down on the point, driving it deep into its own heart, then it had dropped like a stone, giving its rider no time to get free. His legs were trapped beneath the double weight of horse and armor.
"Leave me, Commander, " he gasped, "and take my idiot Half with you. You can't free me. "
Rael's brows rose and Hale would've recognized the tone as he said, "Oh? Can't I?" He squatted, shoved his hands beneath the horse, and lifted. His gauntlets slid free. The weight he'd intended to throw under the horse shifted, and he sat suddenly, nearly doing more damage to Payter in the process. Cursing under his breath, he yanked off the offending gloves and shoved them under Payter's unresisting hands. This couldn't take too long or the Melacian archers would begin to make their presence felt. He squatted again and gripped the still warm body under shoulder and haunch. Then he stiffened his back and straightened his legs.
Slowly the horse lifted a foot, then two feet off the ground.
"Can you get out?" Rael grunted, his knees braced under the saddle.
"Uh. . . yes, Commander. . . "
"Then do it, damnit!"
"Yes, Commander!" The man crabbed backward on hands and elbows.
When Payter's feet came clear, Rael stepped back and the horse crashed to the ground. He grabbed his gauntlets, grabbed the man by the shoulders, and flung him up and over the pommel of his Half's saddle, hoping his armor would cushion the blow. Using the dead horse as a mounting block, and completely disregarding the weight of his own armor-although something in his muscles said he'd pay for all this later, mythic parentage or not-Rael launched himself into his own saddle, set his lance, and screamed: "Back!"
The circling Elite formed a wedge, pointed their heads toward the rest of the company, and began the fight back. Rael and Rutgar bracketed the rescued Pair and readied to move out.
I've done it! Rael crowed. He beat away a spear that came a bit too close.
Nothing can stop us now!
Suddenly Rutgar threw up his shield and an arrow ricocheted off the rim.
"Cover!"
One of the Melacian longbowmen had found a bit of unoccupied high ground. He stood, safely out of range of return fire, but close enough to Rael and his men to be able to choose his targets with care.
From a standing start it would take a moment or two to fight their way clear and get moving. During that moment they might as well have targets painted over their hearts.
"Why, you. . . " Rael's jaw went out and his eyes blazed behind his visor. In a single fluid motion, he stood in his stirrups, twisted, and flung his lance at the bowman.
It seemed that both armies watched it fly, and watched it land, point buried a foot in the earth and the Melacian bowman hanging off the end.
The squad was virtually unopposed as they rode back to join their company.
Doan met Rael at the top of the hill. "You seem to have taken the heart out of them, Commander. "
Rael turned to look and, sure enough, the Melacians were leaving the field, forming shield lines and retreating with the Ardhan army harrowing them every foot of the way.
"A bit showy. " Although Doan's tone was dry, he couldn't stop his lips from twitching back into a smirk. "But definitely effective. "
So ended the Ardhan army's third day in the valley.
"It took them a while, " Doan nudged the prince and pointed, "but they've finally learned. They've moved their pikemen out of squares and down both sides of the valley. We try to charge into that and we'll skewer ourselves. "
Rael raised a hand to shade his eyes and Rutgar, who was forcing a new strap through a buckle, growled low in his throat. "If you don't mind, Commander. . . "
"Sorry. " Rael lowered his arm and squinted instead. "I guess we'll just have to try something else. "
Doan and the armsman exchanged questioning glances.
"It looks as though we've made them nervous, " the prince continued. "They seem to be placing a barricade of pikemen between their bowmen and the Ardhan lancers. "
"They are. " Doan's eyes were as good as Rael's and he could shade them against the early morning sun.
"The trouble is, the Melacians aren't in possession of a rather important piece of information. " Rael turned to face his companions.
"And that is?" Rutgar sighed, pulling Rael back into position by the recalcitrant strap.
"The Ardhan lancers are bowmen as well. " The commander of the Elite looked down at his captain. "The strength of the Elite lies in flexibility. "
Doan's jaw dropped. He recognized his own words to Rael on the day the prince took command. He stared at the Melacian lines, then said: "We ride at them in ranks of three, fire, wheel, and repeat. Between the dust and the ranks of pikemen blocking their sight, they'll never hit a moving target. "
"And they'll never expect it, " Rutgar added. "As far as they know. . . "
". . . we have no mounted archers, " Doan finished. "And when we break the line, Male's horsemen can lead the foot soldiers through. It just might work. "
"Might?" Rael! grinned in a way that made him look very much like his father.
"Of course it'll work. Cap-lain, inf
orm the Firsts. Have the Elite form up in three ranks. Today, we're archers. "
Doan's salute was faultless. "Very good, Commander. " He spun on his heel and marched off to pass the commander's orders to the officers of the Elite.
Rael turned back to stare at the distant line of the enemy. "Well?" he asked Rutgar. "What do you think?"
"I think, " muttered his armsman, finally cinching tight the buckle. "That you're getting a bit cocky. " He looked up and smiled. "Commander. "
The commander grinned and slammed an elbow into his armsman's side with a sound of clashing kettle drums. "You're just jealous. I tell you, it'll work. "
It worked.
At the end of the fourth day, the Ardhan army still held the valley.
The fifth day, by throwing lives in a seemingly endless parade onto the Ardhan weapons, by making a path on their dead and dying, by washing away the Ardhan barricades with a river of blood, the Melacian army left the valley and moved the war onto the Tage Plateau.