The Chronicles: Notomol Ch. 13

I stumbled, and very nearly twisted my ankle. That woke me up. Concentrate! Stick to the task at hand, I reminded myself - just as my father had told me, two or three thousand times.

We stopped at the crest of the hill. It was vitally important that we not be seen, once daylight came. Giedra went left, and I went right. We encouraged our fighters to sit, to rest their backs against the trunk of a tree, or even to snatch a little sleep if we could.

I found Paksyalta and Tugan, and sent them down the hill.

- "Find the bridge, and the path. But you mustn't be seen, or heard."

They knew. We'd been over this a dozen times.

I let them go, and sat down myself. Giedra returned, to find me.

- "Alright?" I asked.

- "So far."

There was something about the way she said that.

- "What is it?"

- "Nothing." she said. "It's just... I think that I'm going to win my name, tomorrow."

- "Giedra - you have to live to enjoy getting a name. You're not going to do anything stupid, are you?"

- "No, Guen. I just have this feeling..."

It got cold, then - surprisingly cold. Cold enough that people huddled together, to share warmth. For a mid-spring evening, it was decidedly chilly.

And then it got damp.

It wasn't rain. But the combination of cold and damp made us realize what was going on, even as we sat on a wooded hill. Fog.

Paksyalta and Tugan returned, and confirmed it.

- "We found the bridge. It's exactly where you said it would be. There are four Izumyrians on it."

- "Four nervous Izumyrians." said Tugan.

- "True." said Paksyalta. "The fog is getting thicker. They can't see much. Nor could we. Is that a good thing, or a bad thing?"

- "Honestly?" I said. "I don't know."

There was nothing for us to do but wait. Sometimes, that's the very worst part of a fight. The anticipation is often much worse than the event.

The dawn came very mildly. It was still chilly, and the sun wasn't bright enough to burn off the fog. Our sight was impaired, but there was nothing wrong with our hearing.

The clop of heavy hooves. The jingle of bits and harnesses. The creak of saddles. There were horsemen down there. Many horsemen. Notomol had guessed correctly. Now I could only hope that his plan would work.

For our part, all that we needed was patience. Wait - and then wait some more.

I sent Paksyalta and Tugan back down the slope again. It wasn't absolutely necessary, but it would give them something to do - and me something to think about. Patience wasn't one of my skills - or is it a virtue? My father tried to teach it to me when I was a child, by limiting the number of questions I was allowed to ask, any given day. He was only partially successful.

- "This is the hardest part." I said, to Berilde.

She nodded. She'd been in enough fights to know.

Paksyalta came back much sooner than I'd expected.

- "The path is thick with 'em." she said. "They're still coming across the bridge."

- "Any foot-soldiers?"

- "All horsed." she said, with a grin. I could see her face.

- "How's the fog?"

- "Still heavy down there. Not so bad up here, though."

- "Ten paces down slope. Everyone." I said. I left Berilde behind, on the crest of the hill, to watch for the signal we were expecting. I could only hope that she would be able to see it, in this fog.

The word was passed, and our fighters stirred. Some of them had to rub their limbs, to restore the circulation. But everyone was alert, now. They were careful not to make noise. Even if they did, it was better to do so now, while the Izumyrians were still moving. Hopefully they would only hear the sounds of their own horses and the clanking and creaking of their gear.

If Notomol was right, there were hundreds of armoured horsemen down there, mounted on those huge beasts. We had sixty lightly armed Uplanders and women.

We waited again. And waited some more. The Izumyrians had a long way to go before they cleared the forest at the end of this trail - over a league. In the heavy fog, they were moving at a snail's pace. At this rate, our fighters would be exhausted before the fight began, just from being on high alert for so long.

Then the noise down below began to dwindle. The enemy had stopped; they were no longer advancing. The horses didn't stand still, or even remain silent. Some stamped, or tossed their heads, making their harnesses jingle. Here and there a mount snuffled, or snorted. We couldn't see them, but we could still hear them.

The soldiers, of course, were more disciplined. If they were talking at all, in must have been in whispers, because I couldn't pick up a word.

Until we all heard it: a faint shout, further up the trail to our right. It was picked up by another man - an officer, no doubt - much closer. Then someone called out, just below us. It sounded like an order.

That was eerie enough. But then we heard a faint scream, off to the east. It didn't come from the trail, but rather from the way we'd marched, earlier that evening. Like the Izumyrian officers' shouts, the scream was echoed by another, much louder, from the other side of the hill we'd climbed.

Moments later, I heard a branch snap behind us, and then a slithering sound as someone slipped on the damp slope.

- "Where's Guenna?" hissed a voice. It was Berilde.

- "Here!" I hissed back.

- "That's the signal." said Berilde. "I could barely see the torch, but the scream was intended for us."

It had to be our signal. If we were wrong, the results could be awful - but if we waited, we might endanger Notomol's entire plan.

- "Go!" I said. I tapped the people on either side of me on the shoulder. "Go."

They did the same to the fighters next to them. People began to move, down the slope.

Of course we made noise. But so did the Izumyrians. Two officers were still shouting. The men were nervous, and their unease communicated itself to their mounts. The big horses were stamping and sidling, making their riders work to keep them under control.

I don't doubt that some of the enemy heard us. But what was it that they heard? An animal in the undergrowth? One of their own? They couldn't see a blessed thing - I know that for certain because we couldn't either.

I can't explain it. Some of the Izumyrians must have heard us. Perhaps they said something to the men nearest to them. But no one shouted a warning to their officers - and those officers were too busy shouting themselves. Perhaps they were trying to maneuver their own mounts forward - or back, toward the bridge.

If the roles had been reversed, one of our people would have called out: 'Hey, Guenna! Don't you hear that?'. I don't know - maybe some of the Izumyrians did the same. In the end, though, it didn't make a damned bit of difference.

Our fighters surged out of the forest at the base of the slope. Visibility was poor, even at ten feet away, but there was no mistaking those massive horses and their armoured riders.

Their armoured, but unarmed riders.

I know what the non-combatants think. They imagine a battle as two armies charging across a flat field, brandishing their swords and shields, screaming at the top of their lungs.

The reality is very different. Fighters don't 'brandish' weapons until the very last moment. Try it, if you don't believe me. Carry a sword and shield, and sprint across a meadow. If by some miracle you don't trip, or stumble, and stab yourself in the leg or the foot, you will arrive at your destination exhausted, with your arms and wrists aching from the effort of carrying the damned shield and the damned sword.

Even a bow gets heavy, after a while. But many fighters have told me that after swinging their sword (or axe) fifteen or twenty times, their wrists felt like they were about to fall off. Thrusting, with a spear or a sword, takes less energy. Even so, you don't want to run very far with a spear or shield.

I've seen the Izumyrian infantry advance at a walk, until the last twenty yards or so. That's why I wasn't surprised that the horsemen had their shields slung on their saddles, and their spears or lances resting in a socket by their foot. If they had shields on their arms and spears in their hands, they would have been tired long before they got to the fight.

That's why our folk rushed out to attack unarmed horsemen.

That does not mean that we overran them. Those huge horses were terrifying - a daunting prospect at the very least. None of us wanted to be kicked by those massive hooves. Nor did our fighters arrive in a uniform wave; they came out of the trees piecemeal, in ones and twos

But several enemy riders were surprised, and a few were stabbed - in the thigh, in the groin, or under the arm. Horses were stabbed, as well, and that created another whole level of chaos.

The din was incredible. Shouts and screams rent the night. Horses reared, and a few riders were thrown. The officers were practically shrieking.

And Giedra did... what Giedra did so well.

Paksyalta and our other archers, stationed on the extreme left of our line, let loose a volley. I don't know how effective it was, but as they were aiming at largely stationary targets, tightly packed together on the bridge, at least some of their arrows had to hit home.

Giedra led the rush, with Liesma, Dusca and Tota flanking her, Rion and Eliv and others right behind them.

I couldn't see anything at all.

There was no point in my joining the attack. I am mediocre at best with a bow, and absolutely horrible at close combat. I stayed back, still in the trees, trying to gauge the progress of the fighting by the sounds I could hear. I had Berilde, five Uplanders and five more women nearby, a reserve to send in where or when they were needed.

I heard Giedra roar. It was only later that I learned that she had stabbed an officer's horse, which reared in pain, or surprise and fear. When the animal rose on its back hooves, Giedra and Liesma combined to attack the horse's belly, and succeeded in toppling it over. Perhaps the stricken beast would have fallen in any case, but the fighters nearest them were amazed - and energized - by this result.

Tota turned out to be exactly what we thought she might be: a slightly slower, somewhat more powerful version of my adopted sister, Nameless. Tota killed two horsemen on her own before our people reached the edge of the bridge.

That was Giedra's goal: to gain a foothold on the bridge, and prevent the Izumyrian horsemen from retreating across it - or more of their fellows from coming across to join them. The enemy couldn't retreat, if we held a part of the bridge. They couldn't turn to their right, and ride up the wooded slope. Nor could they turn left, and cross the stream.

It was too wide for their horses to jump, and too far below the trail for them to persuade their mounts to jump into the water. A man who knew how to swim could get across - but only if he abandoned his horse. How many cavalrymen would do that?

The enemy's only other option was to push forward. I didn't have to see or hear it: I knew what was going on all along the path.

Cinna's scouts were at the top of the trail, where it passed the last forest of any size. Kolasovets and the archers were there, too. And so were Dubek and his friends. If any of our fighters could hold a narrow trail, it was that man and his companions.

Two hundred yards closer to us lay another wood. There were narrow paths to either side of it. Enemy horsemen could have gotten away from the stream by availing themselves of these exits from the trail - except that they were blocked by Aldur on one side, and Mailis on the other.

After that, the Izumyrians were hemmed in by the ridge - of which our fighters occupied the very westernmost corner. But that gap was now filled, as Adrastas the guslar and his companion Obran led over 100 more fighters up and over the hill, and down the far slope, to fall on the enemy horsemen trapped by the side of the stream.

Back at our original position, Orsho commanded his and Nelime's men, with Ban Lemek, the boatmen, Eiven Cloudy-Eye, and another 100 uncommitted fighters. Their job was to occupy the attention of the Izumyrian infantry, and - if necessary - defend the stream against an attack, at least long enough to allow us to seek a decision on the trail.

Again, I couldn't see very well, but Giedra let out another roar, and cried out "Hammerfist!"

It was the signal we'd agreed upon. She was in possession of at least one end of the bridge. As long as she held it, the enemy could not be reinforced, nor could they escape.

Meanwhile, along the trail, we weren't mowing them down - not by any stretch of the imagination. But the horsemen were trapped. Each rider was basically struggling to protect himself, and his mount. There was no concerted, coordinated effort on their part. They were tightly packed, with no room to maneuver, and no way to gather any momentum. They couldn't ride us down, because they could barely move.

Riderless horses added to the confusion. There was nowhere for them to go. They stayed near the other horses, hemming them in, leaving those riders who were still mounted no opportunity to combine against us.

The greatest danger to us came from unhorsed riders who weren't stunned or incapacitated when they fell. There were only a handful of these men, but when they drew their swords, armoured as they were, they constituted a menace to our lightly armed fighters. It was probably worse for Adrastas' folk, because there were no real champions among them.

The mounted men were much less of a threat, because the press of this unusual fight unnerved their horses. Spears are effective weapons, but much less so when you don't have solid ground to stand on, or when your mount is shying or rearing.

There was only one spot where the Izumyrians could bring the weight of their cavalry to bear in organized fashion - on the bridge.

Giedra and Liesma, fortunately for us, had felled a horse on the very edge of the bridge. It presented a considerable obstacle to the enemy. As fearsome as their huge mounts were, the Izumyrian horses were not crazy.

They wouldn't charge into a body of formed troops presenting a hedge of spear tips. They would not jump over a dead horse, unsure of where they were going to land. They did what any reasonable creature would do: they balked.

Two enemy cavalrymen and their mounts reached the dead horse - and stopped. The bridge was only wide enough for two horses (at least, for two horses that big). The soldiers thrust with their spears, but could not even reach Giedra, or Liesma.

Then Tota moved forward. She nimbly leapt over the dead horse, avoided a flashing hoof, caught a weak spear thrust on her shield, and then slashed with her sword at the back of a horse's foreleg.

The wounded beast screamed. Yes, horses can scream. It's not a sound that you want to hear.

The stricken animal reared, but then toppled sideways. The rider made a valiant effort to maintain his seat, but he would have been better off to be thrown. As his horse collapsed to the side, the cavalryman's upper body was slammed into the barrel and saddle of his companion's horse. The first rider's neck was snapped.

The second horse was pushed off the side of the bridge. The flimsy handrail gave way immediately. Horse and rider plunged into the stream, several feet below them.

Tota managed to retreat across the horse carcass to safety. The animal she'd crippled thrashed about on the bridge's planks, spraying blood, and further smashing the body of its already dead rider. Liesma tried to put the animal out of its misery with a thrust to its neck, but only succeeded in further injuring it.

Needless to say, the Izumyrians weren't about to immediately regain control of this end of the bridge.

There was the danger that the horsemen on the trail might organize some sort of concerted attack from the opposite direction - behind Giedra and the others. But Paksyalta and the archers were alert to this possibility. She herself killed an officer with a clean shot. If two or more riders even looked as if they were conferring, they immediately drew a hail of arrows.

Giedra finally managed to kill the wounded horse. Now there were two dead beasts blocking the way, plus a mangled rider. There was no way that that mounted men could attack directly across the bridge.

It took some time for whatever officers remained on the far side of the bridge to realize this. When they finally did, they had a number of riders dismount, and try to cross the bridge on foot.

These soldiers wore armour, and carried swords as well as their shields. That made them dangerous - but it also made them slow, somewhat clumsy, and quite unsuited to climbing over two dead horses in a heavy fog while Giedra and her people stabbed at them.

Their first attempt failed miserably, leaving two more corpses - human, this time - sprawled across the bodies of the horses.

My greater fear was that the enemy would send lightly armed, unarmoured men across the stream. In the fog, and in the dark, we might not see them all. If a sizable number of enemy fighters came onto our side of the stream, on foot, they might be able to launch an attack on the bridge behind Giedra.

They didn't. I don't know if it was because the riders refused to part with their horses, or because of their heavy armour. Their infantry, apparently, were still several leagues away, opposite Orsho and Ban Lemek.

That's not to say that all of the horsemen were unwilling to try crossing the stream. As their situation on the trail became more critical, a few riders did try leaping into the stream, in order to escape from us. We saw a few make the jump, and we heard several splashes. I've no idea how many made it across.

There was another attempt at the bridge by cavalrymen on foot. This attack was pressed home with greater urgency; perhaps a more determined officer was behind it - or even leading it in person.

Eliv was wounded, and Dusca suffered a serious injury, but the enemy push was stopped. Two of them were killed, and two more slipped (or were pushed) off the bridge, into the stream.

I returned to watching the fighting on the trail, where I could see what was going on. It was the strangest fight I'd ever seen. The enemy riders simply couldn't move. Their way forward and the way back was blocked by other horsemen, and by an increasing number of riderless horses.

Our fighters, operating in groups of three or four, or more, couldn't always get at the Izumyrians. Those big beasts were dangerous, even without a rider. But then there would be a chorus of shouts as an enemy was brought down. Or another scream from a wounded horse, and a mad scramble by our folk to get out of its way.

The battle progressed, but slowly. Agonizingly slowly. Another rider went crashing down.

It didn't seem quite so dark anymore. Daylight was near - or perhaps it had already come. It was difficult to tell, because the fog was still thick, and the air was still cold.

- "Hammerfist!"

That shout came from behind us. Notomol had promised to send reinforcements, if he could. We'd agreed on that signal so that we wouldn't shoot each other in the dark.

- "Hammerfist!" I shouted back, so that they could find me.

Down the slope came a score of fighters, led by Kolasovets. Inita was by his side, and Evane was with them, along with another half-dozen archers and a dozen lightly-armed warriors.

Evane, alone?

- "Where's Senderra?" I asked, immediately alarmed.

- "She took a knock on the head." said Kolasovets. "She's dizzy, and throwing up. But we left her in good hands. What's going on here?"