Varna Ch. 15

The mercenaries were coming.

As far as I knew, Kurebir had sent 300 mounted men east, in a thrust towards Calep. He had also kept hundreds more back to defend his cannon, though I now suspected that many of those were his wounded, and his sick. It looked as if every able-bodied man had been sent south. There they were, headed directly towards us. Was Kurebir with them, despite his shattered hip?

- "Three thousand?" said Murzosh.

- "A little less than that. Twenty-five hundred, perhaps."

- "And we have nine hundred?" said Sanatha.

- "With more on the way." I said. "We don't have to win a major victory here - we simply have to prevent them from brushing us aside, or getting past us too easily. If we have to retreat, we will."

Half a league south of Mehana hill, there was a sizeable copse of trees. Close by was a pond, with some soft, swampy ground. I stationed Enneiros and his archers in the trees, with Durgat's folk beside them, partially protected by the pond. Next to them, with their flank hanging in the air, I placed Hurmas and the men of the north. Alissara's elves were behind them, to provide support. Yazgash and her fifty half-orcs were our only reserve, for now.

Then we waited.

The mercenaries occupied the hill. Some of them cheered when they saw us drawn up for battle only half a league away. They were hungry, and angry; we'd harassed them for weeks, and denied them food, but now they had us at bay.

They came down off Mehana hill, and around both sides. It took them another hour before they were ready to attack.

- "There are quite a few of them." said Glasha.

- "Mmm." said Sanatha.

The enemy commander sent his crossbowmen forward. With the relatively flat trajectory of their weapons, they could not shoot from behind their own troops. The elves launched a volley of high, arcing shots which fell among the exposed crossbowmen. Within moments, a second flight of arrows was on its way. The crossbowmen were hit hard; rather than stand in place to reload, they withdrew behind their infantry.

This made me wonder again if Kurebir was present. Would he have made such a simple mistake? Perhaps his injured hip had made it impossible for him to march or ride. Was he still with their guns, now eight or nine leagues away?

The enemy began to advance. The elves rained arrows upon them. It couldn't stop the attack, of course, but it did slow them down. I noticed, too, that the enemy right wing came forward much more slowly, more hesitantly than their centre and left. That wing was approaching the copse of trees, where Enneiros and his archers waited. Were these men uncertain about advancing into a wood?

The mercenaries in the centre weren't rushing forward, either. I couldn't blame them; they were headed for Durgat's half-orcs. In fact, the enemy advance quickly became lop-sided, with their left well out in front.

Another error on their part soon became apparent. Rather than extend their lines, and overlap our flanks on both sides, the mercenaries had adopted deeper formations. Instead of overwhelming us from the outset, they seemed set on battering us with their numbers.

Hurmas' men, composed largely of Esin and Corig retainers, held their ground, at first. But the weight of the enemy formation began to push them back. Hurmas made certain not to lose contact with Durgat on his left, so that our right wing began to bend backwards, like a door opening. It was inevitable that the mercenaries would find their way around the end of our line. I had to commit Yazgash and her troops.

- "Don't let them outflank us." I told her. "Stay close to Hurmas. If you have to give ground, then do it."

Her intervention was just in time to stabilize the wing.

Their centre was now engaged with ours, even if the enemy attack was less enthusiastic than on our right.

But now a new problem arose on our left. Enneiros simply didn't have enough fighters to hold back hundreds of men. I could see some of the elves, at the very back edge of the wood.

Then Shall'a Cloudbringer did us a massive favour. Gerdar Aspar arrived behind us, with 120 men. They'd been tasked with evacuating villagers and isolated farmers, but I'd called them back closer to the front line a few days ago. Upon receipt of my urgent message from the night before, they'd marched at dawn.

Aspar had been a friend of my brother Nathal - but not a party to the attempt on my life. In fact, Aspar had been profoundly embarrassed to be a party to such disreputable deeds, however indirectly. He and his men were determined to prove their worth.

There was no time to do more than greet him, and then to send his retainers to support Enneiros. They might have been tired, but their arrival immediately stabilized the situation in the wood. The enemy were surprised to meet new opponents; with all of the trees, it was unlikely that they could tell exactly how many of our men they faced.

Enneiros was able to pull his archers back, and position them on the flank, where they could shoot at any enemies who tried to venture around the copse of trees.

Just as the situation there stabilized, Gerdar Kilfa arrived with another 120 men. Kilfa's daughter Leili had been one of the twelve candidates to marry my brothers and me. Kilfa himself held lands bordered by both the Penedas and the Storums; it was rather a foregone conclusion that he would have supported my brother Merik. Captured at Borovo ridge, he'd been on his best behaviour since then.

His appearance was certainly timely. Hurmas' men had begun to give a little more ground, and were bending back at almost a right angle from Durgat in the centre. I immediately sent Kilfa's men to reinforce our right wing.

Horns sounded, from the other side. I distinctly heard the brazen note of a trumpet of some kind, as well. To my surprise - and to the astonishment of all of our fighters - the enemy broke off the fight, and pulled back.

It wasn't a retreat; the mercenaries withdrew a few hundred yards, to regroup. We saw a mounted figure, haranguing some of his men. The enemy troops shifted a few of their formations.

It was an almost miraculous reprieve for our fighters. It gave them a chance to catch their breath, and to send the badly wounded to the rear. Aspar's men regained full control of the wood, while Hurmas was able to move forward and straighten his line.

During that unbelievable lull, another 150 men arrived behind us, led by Sezima's cousin. I didn't know him well, and had little faith in his martial abilities, which was why I'd put him to evacuating non-combatants rather than assigning him a combat role. Those men were certainly welcome, though.

Alissara's elves resumed shooting arrows at the mercenaries. The mounted commander quickly scurried for cover. With my aether-enhanced senses, I finally recognized him: Beksha. The former Tir, dispossessed by Sanatha and I because he claimed the throne of the old Kingdom of Varna. If he was in command on the enemy side, then Kurebir was most certainly not present.

The enemy now begin to advance again. This time, though, their formation was extended, so that they would overlap us on both flanks.

- "Shall'a must love us." said Sanatha.

I turned to look. Behind us, the young son of Tir Alit was leading another 150 men to join us. I finally had to smile; it was all the proof I needed to know that we weren't going to lose today.

I sent Sezima's men to defend the edge of the wood, on our left, allowing Enneiros' archers to swing wider and shoot into the enemy's flank. Yazgash put Kilfa next to Hurmas, and resumed her position on the end of our line.

Once again, Alissara's archers exacted a price as the enemy advanced; once again, the mercenaries did not appear overly keen to engage, especially in the centre, against Durgat's half-orcs.

Numbers are not everything. I am still here, to testify to that. Sometimes, quality and heart count for more. But I am not ungrateful for Shall'a Cloudbringer's help that day; luck is a valuable thing to have.

There was more to the battle at Mehana hill - things that I didn't learn until later - but the toughness and dedication of our people was decisive. We had veteran leaders, experienced fighters, and a significant advantage in terms of morale.

The mercenaries closed with us, pushing into and around the wood, and making a concerted effort to outflank us on our right. Once again, Hurmas gave ground, but our line only bent, rather than breaking.

I sent the reinforcements from Tir Alit to our right - while keeping his young son by my side.

Little did I know, but for many of the mercenaries, that was too much. Every time they gained an advantage, we seemed to produce a new reserve out of thin air. Just as it seemed that they might prevail, new troops would appear, to deny them success.

I am no genius. If you have been reading my accounts of the history of Varna, though, then you know that I am a vengeful and somewhat ruthless individual. I saw Beksha move forward, on his horse, with a small entourage on foot. I gathered more aether, and shaped it into an arrow.             

At that range, it was a little more difficult than what I did to Durgulel. You may call what I did to our old magic tutor a murder. But Beksha's death was an execution. No more, no less.

I don't believe that the rather spectacular death of their leader disheartened the mercenaries. They had no reason to trust Beksha, or to love him. But the bright flash of the aether arrow was a reminder to all of them that they were facing the Witch King of Varna. That was more than their fragile morale could take.

Durgat of the Red Knees was no fool. He saw the fear and uncertainty in their eyes, the wavering in their line - and he bellowed out the order to charge. The half-orcs had been holding their position, fencing with the enemy. Now they surged forward, eager to inflict as much damage as they could.

The enemy centre collapsed. There is no other word for it. A solid body of men suddenly melted away as the front ranks were crushed and the rear ranks turned to run.

The two wings of the mercenary army were wrapping around the edges of our line, much like the horns of an ox. Now they found themselves out of position, and in danger of being isolated and cut off.

The enemy broke and ran.

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