Varna Ch. 12

Rhigen of the fey arrived just then.

- "Ah, you've seen." he said. "Naevys thought you should know that the enemy aren't where you thought they'd be."

- "Can your folk stay hidden?"

- "Of course."

- "Please ask Naevys, for me, to harass the enemy as best you can if they come around the ridge. Give ground or pull back as you must."

- "Understood." Rhigen was gone an instant later, just as Durgat and Yazgash arrived.

- "Trouble?" said the Chief of the Red Knees.

- "Drek." spat Yazgash, as she saw the torches down below (Drek is half-orc slang for ... excrement).

- "Thought that was too easy." said Durgat.

- "I need two swift runners." I said. "Or three."

It took longer than I wanted to locate the best messengers. Each moment seemed like an eternity. Then I had to explain to them what I wanted. One message for Gerdar Tanle, and a second for Sezima. Dergun could have done it, but I wasn't sure that he had enough gall to ignore Tir Caenog. Sezima would have the balls.

Dawn was fast arriving.

- "Durgat: could your people tip those cannon off the far side of the ridge?"

- "Are you sure? It might be easier just to throw the cannonballs - like we did in Elmina."

- "Alright. If we win, we can collect them afterwards. But if we lose, they won't be used against us."

Yes, I could have brought gunners from Whydah. But Hurmas needed them for the cannon to defend the port. We hadn't brought any guns with us, knowing that Merik would have far, far more in any case. Should I have known to bring gunners of our own, in case we captured some of the enemy's?

As the light began to build, we could see the enemy dispositions much more clearly.

- "More than I thought, down there." said Yazgash.

She was right: Merik and Tir Storum must have left only a skeleton garrison in Elmina. Or maybe they'd just had more men at their disposal than we knew of.

- "Oh, Glasha ..." I said, aloud. "I hope you're listening. We need Alissara to move. Merik isn't where I thought he'd be."

I thought it had been nerve-wracking to wait in the dark, before launching our attack on the ridge. It was even worse to stand atop the ridge, counting our enemy's numbers, and wondering if we hadn't perhaps bitten off more than we could chew.

Then we heard it: a great triple cheer, all the way from the village of Granje. "Varna! Hai!" Then twice more: "Varna! Hai! Varna! Hai!"

Gods and Goddesses bless Gerdar Tanle. She moved our human infantry forward, though there were barely 200 of them. They marched out onto the pasture, close to the river bank, and then shifted their front, to face southwest.

Merik and Tir Storum had to be salivating. They had four times that many foot, if not more. Horns began to sound.

The sun began to rise. It would be almost directly in my eyes, if I looked back at Granje - but it would also shine on the faces of Merik's troops. Gerdar Tanle's men would have it at their backs.

With a great roar, the enemy infantry surged around the foot of Borovo ridge, aiming at Gerdar Tanle's pitifully small force.

- "Now." I said. Durgat and Yazgash nodded, and the real battle of Granje began.

Merik's infantry hadn't expected to be ambushed by the fey as they rounded the foot of the ridge. It took them aback. They were so tightly packed that the fey could hardly miss. Arrows hit shields, or armour, but they also found softer targets.

The advance slowed, on that side. Merik's soldiers turned to face their attackers, and even charged partway up the shoulder of Borovo ridge - only to find that there was no one there.

Tir Peneda was just as eager to be involved. He led the assembled cavalry of Merik's army on a charge directed at the village, parallel to their infantry.

Unfortunately for them, they had to pass very close to a grove of trees, where Enneiros and 50 elven archers were concealed. I would have loved to have 200 bows there, but it wasn't a very large forest. Still, Peneda's horsemen were also more tightly packed - much more so than they'd been in his raid on Souglad. They took correspondingly heavier casualties.

Horses stumbled and fell, tripping more horses behind them. Riders were flung forward, pitched out of the saddle.

50 archers couldn't stop 200 horsemen. The charge wasn't halted - but it was blunted.

I had to shield my eyes to see it, because the rising sun was so bright, but I can say that I witnessed a critical moment - two critical moments - in Varna history.

The first: Sezima and Dergun timed it perfectly. I was told that Tir Caenog went along with them willingly, but it was Sezima who led the way, as he launched our mounted troopers in a counter-charge against Tir Peneda's faltering advance.

There wasn't much space for so many men and mounts. Horses collided chest to chest, and more riders were thrown from the saddle.

Meanwhile, Merik's infantry were still pushing towards Gerdar Tanle.

The second critical moment: Durgat had left me Yazgash and over 100 half-orcs. But he himself led the best 200 back down the steep slope of the ridge, concealed by the bushy vines. With equally impeccable timing, he led the Red Knees in a charge into the flank of Merik's infantry.

It felt odd, to be standing atop the ridge, so far removed from the action - and such spectacular action! I was immensely proud of our horsemen, of Gerdar Tanle, of Durgat ...

The fey had simply retreated up the slope when directly challenged, but now they were free to descend a bit lower again, so that they could snipe at the tail of Merik's infantry column.

And then came the sight I'd been desperately waiting for: Alissara and her elves.

Glasha had heard me, then - or else Alissara had decided to advance on her own initiative. The original plan had been for the elves to cross the river further upriver, in the dark, so that they could be behind Merik's army without our enemies knowing of their presence.

Unfortunately, Merik's army wasn't behind Borovo ridge, where I'd expected it to be. But Alissara had been clever enough to come forward, and find their target. When the first volleys of elven arrows began to fall on the enemy rear, it changed the battle completely.

They'd lost the ridge and their cannon before launching their own attack. Then their infantry had been taken in the flank by the fey and Durgat's half-orcs, while their horsemen had been checked by Sezima's counter-charge.

Merik's forces might still have been able to push through, at least as far as the village of Granje. But what then? And now a new, unknown force was pouring arrows into their rearmost ranks.              

When the first cry of 'Every man for himself!' went up, I knew that we were going to win. Nonetheless, I kept Yazgash and her 100 on the ridge, just in case they were needed on the pasture or in the village. There was still plenty of time for them to join the pursuit if the enemy broke.

Merik's infantry gave way first. They couldn't face Gerdar Tanle's foot in their front, half-orcs and the fey on their flank, and now elves behind them. The best troops in all of Leinyere couldn't have withstood that much pressure.

The enemy horsemen hung on longer, continuing to fight it out. At first, it was because the men behind, pressing forward, gave the riders in front no room to maneuver. Soon enough, though, the unengaged horsemen began to see their infantry pulling back. No one gave the order to retreat, but it was the beginning of a general attempt on the part of Merik's mounted men to disengage, and to pull away.

There was still some hard fighting before the issue was clearly decided. I released Yazgash and her fighters, to join in the pursuit.

- "Prisoners, Yazgash! Take prisoners."

She met my eye for a good, long moment. Yazgash knew very well that there were one or two definite exceptions to that order. I didn't want a slaughter; the defeated men - and their leaders - would have to be won over, to accept Sanatha and me as their new rulers. That would be easier if we didn't have to stride over mounds of corpses to achieve our goals. But if certain individuals were to fail to survive the fight, it might prove more ... convenient.

I watched the last phases of the battle of Borovo ridge from high above, with only Osha, Murzosh, and a handful of wounded half-orcs for company.

***

Borovo Ridge (or Granje, if you prefer) was a bloodier battle than I would have wished for. We lost almost one hundred killed or seriously wounded. With luck, perhaps a third of those would be fit again. Enneiros and Tir Caenog were among the wounded.

But Sezima was dead.

My good friend, my travel-companion, the irreverent, light-hearted Sezima ... he'd led a desperate cavalry charge against superior numbers, and then he'd cloven his way through several opponents, driving deep into their formation like a one-man spearhead. Someone had stabbed him in the back, and he'd fallen to the ground, beneath the stamping hooves.

His family would be devastated. His half-orc mistress would mourn. Hurmas ... had just lost his best friend. But no one would miss him more than I would. Every ruler needs a Sezima, to lighten the mood, to tell them the truth, or to turn a cynical eye on their most arbitrary designs. I had been counting on him to be one of the pillars of the next regime. He could have had his pick of marriage alliances.

The enemy had suffered heavily. There were nearly 200 dead, 250 more wounded, and a hundred more prisoners. Tir Alit had escaped, as had Gerdars Khuter and Orchir.

But Tir Peneda had been captured. He'd fallen from his horse, in the cavalry fight, and had broken bones in his leg and hip. Gerdar Kegen was dead, and Gerdar Kilfa had been captured.

But two notable figures were not among the dead. Nor had they escaped.

Tir Storum surrendered when his horse was shot under him.

My brother Merik was captured by a jubilant group of Red Knee half-orcs. They anticipated a significant ransom for such a richly armoured nobleman. Merik had taken an arrow through the shoulder, and another had been embedded in his ankle. He'd also fallen from a horse - twice. He had several broken bones, and a variety of purple bruises.

I went to see Sezima's broken body first. Only after that did I go to visit my wounded brother. Durgat was there. He promised the Red Knees who'd captured Merik a rich reward, and then sent them away.

My brother lay on the very edge of the ridge. His body was battered, but there was no mistaking that chiselled, roughly handsome face. He smiled when he saw me.

- "Hah! Little Tau-Tau! How are you, brother?"

I was nonplussed. How could he act like this? He'd murdered our father. Three of our brothers were dead. Four of his brothers would have been dead, if he'd had his way. Now he was completely at my mercy. How would this have transpired if the roles were reversed?

Merik's eyes roamed, as if he was trying to look at his own face.

- "I look like shit, don't I?" he said.

I replied without thinking.

- "You are shit."

Merik wasn't shocked, or even surprised. He chuckled.

- "Don't be an idiot, Tauma. You need me. You may not need Tir Storum - but me, you need. The nobles won't support you without me."

I don't believe that I'd ever liked my second brother. Should I have? Hardly. He'd bullied me, and then Toran. He'd seduced Aludar's mistress, and tried to rape Glasha.

I gathered the aether, even as I tried to think of a single redeeming feature in Merik. Then I summoned more aether, and searched my memories for a positive recollection.

I couldn't find a single one. Instead, I found myself thinking of Aludar and Toran, and of my friend Sezima.

So I knelt down beside my brother, and drove an aether spear through his chest. It left behind a steaming hole six inches wide.

My conscience might bother me, in future. But I comforted myself with the observation that Merik had never possessed a conscience of any kind.

*****