Fortune's Favor

Well ahead of him, the enemy cavalry was moving at last. He could not see details, but the cloud of dust told him that several hundred cavalrymen at least were moving into his path.

"Enemies ahead," he called, "They're coming for us after all. Steel yourselves and ready your pistols, men."

Decius slowed up as the ground in front of him turned soft and wet. The dry grass turned green, and he saw that the ground was quickly turning into a marsh. To his left, the stream blocked his progress while he had not enough room to maneuver around the infantry on his right. The only way was forward.

"We're entering a marsh," he called over his shoulder. "Take care and don't lose a horse to the muck."

The cavalry formation slowed as it entered the marsh. Horses' feet disappeared into the water up to the knee in some places, and the lines became ragged. Men fell out of position, horses shied away from deeper water, and the formation began to crack.

"Halt, halt!" Decius called. "Reform the lines. Reform on me!"

Dhamat held the standard as high as he could while the horsemen picked their way through the marshy ground to reform their ranks. Decius looked forward to the enemy cavalry, fearing an attack, and saw that his fears were well founded. The enemy was approaching.

Several hundred men neared, sabers drawn and armor flashing in the sun.

"Reform quickly! Be ready to fight!" Decius called out. "Pistols at the ready!"

"We can't use pistols in this," Dhamat protested. "In this muck we'll never be able to withdraw and reload. The enemy will be upon us after the first shot."

"The plan calls for pistols," Decius shot back.

"Then change the plan. The legate is far away from us now, and the enemy is near."

Decius hesitated. His ranks were still not formed, but he knew that Dhamat was right. A pistol caracole called for the front rank to advance, fire, and then turn and circle back to the rear while the other ranks followed suit. The tactic relied on the enemy to remain stationary, which these approaching enemies certainly would not do.

"Sabers," he called, "draw sabers and make ready for close combat!"

Still forging their way through the marsh, his cavalrymen now found themselves exchanging one weapon for another. Their lines were still ragged, with a large gap at once point where the cavalrymen were making their way around a deep pool in the marsh. They were nearly out of it, but nearly was not close enough.

A horn sounded, and Decius looked to the enemy in horror. They spurred their horses on and came in fast.

"Make ready for battle!" Decius cried, and then the enemy was upon them. Steel rang upon steel as the enemy cavalry splashed into the marsh. Decius parried a blow from the enemy and fought to retain his seat in the saddle. All around him, confusion reigned.

An enemy rider closed with him, leaning far to the side as he swung a heavy blow at Decius' head. Decius raised his sword to parry but caught only part of it and the saber clove his cheek. Hot, searing pain burst across his face and he dropped his sword to clutch at the wound. He felt himself teetering in the saddle but could not hold on. Men shouted and slashed all around him, steel against steel, and Decius toppled from his horse into the marsh.

He hit the ground with a wet thud, falling unfortunately onto a patch of dry ground that broke his fall most painfully. His face wound sent pain lancing through him again and he nearly took a flailing hoof to the face. Decius fought his way to his feet in the middle of the melee. He grabbed at his horse's reins, but as blood from his face wound dripped into his eye, he lost sight of it and missed.

Dhamat, carrying the ala's standard, moved in front of him as a shield. Encumbered by the banner in one hand, he fought with his saber in his offhand. The ensign was outmatched, and a cavalryman struck from his side, slashing Dhamat across the neck.

The young man did not cry out, but blinked his eyes in stunned disbelief. He clutched his horse's mane, wavering in the saddle as he tried to keep the standard aloft. The man who had struck him rode closer and delivered another blow to Dhamat's exposed neck. The ensign slipped from the saddle.

Decius seized the standard even as Dhamat fell from the saddle. He gripped it in both hands and swung it like a club, knocking the cavalryman from his horse. The enemy drew back from the heavy bludgeon, and Decius jabbed the standard's point into the fallen man's face before he could pull himself from the marsh. His horse reared, but Decius grabbed the reins and somehow calmed the animal without getting killed. The melee swirled around him, his cavalry pulling into a tight knot around him as the enemy pressed forward.

Two ala riders moved ahead of him, shielding him as the unfortunate Dhamat had, and Decius scrambled back into the saddle. He lifted the standard above his head and cried out to the men around him.

"Keep fighting, there's only a few of them!" he looked around and saw that the enemy, badly outnumbered, had indeed pressed their attack well. Confusion reigned in his ranks, but the men had not fled. He needed to rally them, to press his own attack.

Fire leads the way to victory, he thought. But how could his men fire with the enemy at sword's length? Here and there, he heard scattered pistol shots, their sharp cracks cutting through the constant ring of steel. Most of the shots came from the cavalrymen who held back from the tight knot around him.

He lifted the standard higher and cried again, but it was no use. The men were being driven back, he saw the knot around him opening up again.

Fire, came the thought, and Decius looked to the standard. He held his free hand to the taffeta and conjured forth flames. The whole banner went up quickly, and he found himself holding an enormous burning torch.

With a cry, he spurred himself through the widening gap in his knot, and the enemy cavalry fell back in sudden confusion and fear. Decius thrust the burning standard at them, and their formation quailed.

"Fire leads the way to victory!" someone cried, and Decius understood at last.

"Abandon the pistols, draw swords!" he ordered, and the men cried in enthusiasm. Decius tried to share their excitement, but just talking had sent a spiderweb of agony shooting through his head again. But the men around him hardly seemed to notice. A thousand gleaming sabers flashed in the sun, and Decius ordered his ala forward. The enemy was suddenly reversed, as the ala came surging forward. Outnumbered three to one, the enemy cavalry fell back. Now free of the marsh, Decius took the time to reform his ranks.

One man rode to his side.

"You're injured, sir." Decius could only laugh.

"You think I don't know?"

"Here," the man handed over a dusty scarf. "Something to staunch your wounds, sir."

Decius did as suggested, tying the scarf around his jaw. He felt his hot blood soaking into the cloth and dripping down his neck, but there was little he could do now.

He looked back at his rallying men, then forward to the enemy, who was doing the same. The enemy's confusion was clearing. Decius saw that the time to strike was now. Hefting his still blazing standard, he called to his cavalry.

"With me, men! Strike while they are still rallying!" The cavalry surged forward, sabers ready, and closed the gap with their foes. The badly outnumbered rebels held for only a few exchanges of blows. Sabers clashed and rang, men fell dead or dying from the saddle and still more cried out in pain or panic. Overmatched and overwhelmed, the enemy flew into a panic and turned to flee, leaving three score of their number behind.

Decius had to restrain his men from the pursuit. To be sure, the enemy was now at their most vulnerable. If he unleashed his cavalry, they would reap a bloody toll among the fleeing enemy - at least until the rest of the enemy's horse fell upon them. For whatever reason, the bulk of the enemy cavalry had held back, squandering their opportunity to overwhelm and annihilate Decius' own cavalry as they fought to escape the marsh. But Decius was now determined to make them pay for their lethargy.

"Reform! Reform! Four ranks deep, loose spacing. Prepare to attack with cold steel," he cried, and the decurions relayed his command. Already, he found himself missing the aid of his ensign. Dhamat would be remembered, and cited in his dispatch for conspicuous bravery. His cavalry was reforming agonizingly slowly, but it was the best they could do. The enemy was already arrayed for close quarters, combat, their right flank anchored against a small village, but remained in place. They must be waiting for orders, Decius decided, Battus does not trust his men to act independently, as a good commander must.

At last, his cavalry were prepared. The standard was burnt nearly to ashes. Decius spurred his steed forward, but veered to the left. He rode around the village, outflanking the enemy as they obediently waited for orders. A few scattered shots were fired from the village, but his cavalry completed the maneuver undaunted. Decius ordered a trailing squadron to enter the village and root out the enemy skirmishers. His cavalry now approached the enemy rear, their own right flank against the village's edge.

The enemy were in confusion. The speed of Decius' maneuver had left them still waiting for orders. A bolder commander would have attacked either Decius' horse while they maneuvered or the exposed flanks of the legion's infantry. But Battus had committed the greatest sin a commander could, sloth. Half his horse were turning to face the enemy behind while the rest docilely waited in place. Without waiting for the enemy to extricate himself, Decius ordered the attack to commence.

Horns blaring and sabers flashing, the imperial horse charged in. The enemy horse had turned their rear ranks about to face the attack, and so could offer some resistance. But their formations were backwards, their officers now in the rear, and were greatly confused. Decius, his face wound still pounding as he thundered into battle, struck down an enemy horseman with his saber and saw the man slump forward in his saddle. Even in death, the man stayed ahorse.

All around him, men shouted and cried, steel rang, and despite his orders, he still heard scattered pistol shots sounding out. His heart thundering louder than the horses' hooves, Decius fended off killing stroke after stroke. He took a blow to his helmet that set his seeing stars, but his cavalry slew the attacker and he regained his senses. After countless terrible minutes of battle, the enemy drew back, leaving a hundred dead or dying men behind where their lines had clashed.

Decius called for a pursuit now, in their moment of weakness, but his own men were exhausted from their ferocious battle. Reluctantly, at the advice of his lieutenants, he allowed them a moment to catch their breaths.

Beyond the enemy, cannons boomed and muskets cracked as the infantry lines clashed. Decius could make out little of what transpired, obscured as it was by great and growing clouds of smoke and dust. The detached squadron returned, reporting the village cleared and a score of enemy cavalrymen put to the sword. Putting the spyglass to his eye, Decius saw that the enemy were still exhausted and disorganized.

"Rest's over, men!" He shouted. Ordering his detached squadron to take the lead, he renewed the attack. With their fresh comrades leading the charge, the imperial horse surged forward again. Battus' cavalry quailed under the attack and shortly afterwards fell back again. But Decius did not let up. The enemy withdrawal was uncontrolled and panicky, and the imperial horsemen pressed the attack vigorously.

Quickly, it degenerated into a rout. The whole enemy right wing fell into flight, and as they fled, Decius and his cavalry ran them down. The enemy was armored and mounted on powerful thoroughbreds, ensuring that comparatively few of them were slain, but all semblance of order was shattered. The enemy were beaten in their hearts, though their numbers and arms remained to them. The right wing disintegrated, leaving the infantry in the center exposed to attack.

Restraining his cavalry from an overzealous pursuit, Decius allowed part of Sharishakun's horse to pursue them and ensure they did not return to the field. The rest he marshalled for a decisive attack on the enemy infantry. As his forces reassembled, he took stock of the situation and dispatched a messenger to Marius and the infantry.

The legion had advanced with pikes braced on their shoulders, pushing their way across the ditches under heavy fire from the defenders. A trail of dead and wounded stretched behind them, but the legions would not give way. They navigated around the overturned carts with expert ease, some musketeers using them as convenient shields against the rebel fire. Dismayed by the ineffectiveness of their obstacles, the rebels retreated from the onslaught of pikes and the legions cleared the ditches. The rebel gunners abandoned their cannons, fleeing for the safety of the pike wall, and the withering, close-range fire ceased. Their last obstacles cleared, the pikemen advanced into close quarters with their foes.

But once the pikemen closed near enough to strike with their pikes, the rebels did not run. They gave ground slowly, firing into the massed pikemen when they could, but there was not the general rout that Bacarius had predicted. The enemy would require further convincing.

His cavalry assembled, Decius ordered his imperial horse to ride first. In two ranks, riding knee-to-knee, they closed to within pistol shot of the enemy and then veered right and discharged their left-hand pistols before veering back to the left and discharging the other pistol. After firing, the first rank rode to the rear and the second rank repeated the maneuver.

The result of this sudden fist into the rebels' backs was to produce in their ranks a panic of the highest order. Seeing their foes in confusion, the legionaries on their opposite side launched another attack. As the enemy wavered, Decius sent in his Sharishid horse.

The Kheshites attacked with lances leveled, thundering in with their armor flashing and their helmet plumes streaming in the wind. The imperial pistoliers' horses had kicked up a thick cloud of dust, and through it all the enemy could only hear the thunder of hooves until, suddenly, ranks of armored riders burst from the wall of dust and crashed into the ranks of the infantry.             

The result was a massacre. The enemy were beaten before the lancers even closed ranks but had nowhere to flee. They threw down their arms and begged for mercy, but neither the Sharishid lancers nor the legionaries were in a mood to hear them. It was all over quickly.

The right wing of the enemy infantry did not collapse like the horse, it was slaughtered where the men stood. The Sharishid lancers advanced so quickly that they nearly rode right into the pikemen on the other side. The enemy broken, Decius rode through the piles of bodies to meet Marius.

"Well done, Decius!" the legate crowed as they at last found each other in all the smoke and dust. "This battle is as good as won, now all that remains is to crush the enemy's left wing before he can escape."

"Is there any word of Battus? Where is he?"

"Dead, perhaps," Marius suggested, "Or fleeing. I would expect that he would make himself easy to spot in all this clamor, so perhaps he is against Sharishakun on the right?"

"What of our progress there?" asked Decius, "Does the enemy fight on?"

"They do, last I heard. But they won't last much longer, now that the rest of the army is dead or fled. I'll have the artillerists up here to man the guns in a moment, then we'll give them a right blasting!"

As he said it, a gun crew rushed past and set about turning around a heavy culverin. The gun bore the emperor's seal, marking it as one of the Eighth Legion's guns captured at Yamhadan. In his haste to flee, the enemy had not spiked the gun, and now it was once again returned to the service of the emperor and set to bombarding the rebels.

Decius returned to his cavalry and moved them up to threaten the enemy's rear again. At the same time, Marius redeployed his infantry squares to outflank the enemy even as his assault from the from continued. On the far side, Decius saw the enemy's cavalry break and flee, Sharishakun's banner waving through the dust as his cavalry pursued them.

It was then that the remainder of the rebels threw down their banners. Gathering them up in his arms, an emissary rode forward and made for Marius. Decius rode hard to meet them.

When he rode up, the emissary was kneeling in front of Marius, the surrendered standards laid out in front of him.

"You have won the day," the man said, "and we are beaten. In exchange for the promise of our lives, my master offers the surrender of his forces."

"Your terms are acceptable," Marius said. "This rebellion has gone on long enough. If your men lay down their arms and allow themselves to be taken prisoner, there will be no more slaughter here today. This I swear on my tribune's sash."

The surrender delivered them Battus and six thousand other prisoners, along with six thousand corpses and all the cannons lost at Yamhadan. Losses among his men were five hundred killed and twice as many wounded, the casualties nearly evenly divided between the Third Legion and Sharishakun's cavalrymen.

Sharishakun's cavalry pursued their fleeing counterparts all the way to the gates of Haddul, whereupon they fought their way inside and held the gates long enough for a tertium of the legion to arrive in support. Once the feared legionaries were inside the gate, the defenders threw themselves on the mercy of their foes and resistance in the town collapsed.

Marius and Decius arrived soon after to find the sack had already begun. Soldiers from both camps ran amok throughout the town. Decius rode alongside Marius through the streets of the town. From upper windows, men threw their loot into piles in the streets. The corpses of both fleeing Battulid soldiers and unfortunate townsfolk lay in the streets. They passed a gang of soldiers who had begun rounding up captives for the slave markets. They arranged their prisoners against the wall of a weaver's workshop and stripped them one by one, inspecting them as a slaver might. As Decius passed, a young woman, nude and bound at her wrists with rope, looked up at him, her eyes pleading. Decius turned away and rode on.

They rode through the chaos into the town square to find that Sharishakun's men had already taken possession. Armored lancers stood guard at each entrance and had begun piling loot into two mounds before the town hall. A legionary cavalryman stood guard over one, while Eriba Sharishakun sat watching the other. Marius and his escorted dismounted and ascended the steps into the hall.

The central chamber was a riot of activity, as men carried plunder to and fro. At the center of it all, Sharishakun sat on the former councilman's chair, accompanied by a tall, slender woman with copper hair and sapphire eyes. She was naked, her pale body glowing in the candlelight of the hall as Sharishakun held her in his arms.

Upon seeing Marius and Decius, the elder man stood up and cheered in welcome.

"It is good to see you, my friends," he called over the noise of the sack, "Come, sit with me and tell me of your victory. I have heard already that you fought boldly and bravely and wish to hear even more."

Decius seated himself before Sharishakun and his new concubine and regaled him with his tale of the battle. When he had finished, Sharishakun laughed and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Fire did indeed lead the way! Well done, sorcerer. We have won a great victory here today. Though the numbers pale in comparison to the great battles of old, what we have accomplished here is no less impressive than the famous duxes of the Conquests. In congratulations, I have brought you a gift."