A battle is won before the first arrow flies or the first sword cuts.
The Helosundians had come northeast expecting to ambush one battalion, so when morning dawned and they discovered that the Desei were not moving on, but had drawn up in a battle line and had been reinforced, they scrambled to prepare for battle. In their hasty pursuit, they had not brought much with them by way of provisions, thinking they would soon liberate the rice and feast. The Fire Hawks had always pushed on faster than the Helosundians, forcing them to march longer than they had any desire to do. As a result, they came to the battle tired and hungry.
His troops, on the other hand, were for the most part rested, well fed, and well trained. He did not doubt that each of them felt fear when they looked at the mob surging toward them. There would be jokes, about how each only had to kill three of the dogs and he could retire for the day, but each knew these Helosundian Dogs would take a fair amount of killing.
He’d arrayed his troops with the Golden Hawks to the fore. The Mountain Hawks and Fire Hawks were positioned to the right and left respectively, drawn back, with their flanks overlapping the Golden Hawk rear. The Shadow Hawks were right behind the Golden Hawks.
Pyrust snapped open a black fan with a large red ball emblazoned on it. He raised it above his head, flashing the symbol, then turned it edge on to the troops, and brought his hand straight down.
Commanders in the Shadow Hawks shouted orders. The Golden Hawks spread their rear ranks and the Shadow Hawks ran forward. They nocked arrows, drew, and loosed, rank after rank, into the Helosunde center. Each arrow found a mark, and while a few stuck in shields or skipped off armor, most sank to the fletching into flesh, and men fell screaming.
The Helosundian archers replied, but it was a whisper to what had been a shout. Some of his Hawks did fall when arrows found gaps in armor, but many of the Helosundian bows lacked the power they needed to penetrate armor. My men are not peahens to be stuck so easily.
The Shadow Hawks loosed another four volleys, thinning the ranks of the Helosundian center, then stopped and retreated. He didn’t know if the leaders on the other side understood the significance of five volleys, but five months hence it would be the month of the Dog, Helosunde’s month, and he had chosen to honor them that way.
Honor them before he slaughtered them.
Pyrust waited as his wounded and dead were evacuated. The other side closed ranks, squeezing the center. This he had expected, for what general would not do that? The Helosundian center had been its strength, but now it had become its weakness. The trained troops moved forward to fill in the front line, while the back ranks on the wings flowed toward the middle to take up the empty space.
Which moves them further from the battle than they want to be if they are to be effective.
He raised his fan again, displaying the red ball. He flipped it front and back, showing both sides, then brought it down to wave at the Helosundian lines. Orders were shouted below and the Shadow Hawks, in disarray, shifted behind the Fire Hawks on the right. The Golden Hawks moved forward, opening a gap between them and their supporting units. Their advance slowed as the Golden Hawks realized they had no support, then they began to retreat.
The Helosundians charged.
Barely fifty yards separated the two forces, but the Golden Hawk retreat stretched that distance. The Fire Hawks and Mountain Hawks started to pull back, too, shortening the Desei lines. Both Helosundian wings charged faster, trying to make sure they would all engage the Desei at the same time, but their flank companies never could quite catch up.
When the Golden Hawk flanks again touched the other units, orders were snapped and the retreat stopped. His soldiers tightened their ranks and set their spears. The Helosundians came on, slowing not out of fear but out of exhaustion. Batting aside spears, men smashed into the Desei line. Swords battered shields, clubs smashed limbs, swords stabbed deep, and screaming men rose into the air impaled on spears.
Pyrust lofted his fan into the air, letting it spin end over end. It slowed, then began to fall again, whirling down like a maple seed. The Helosundians, mistaking this gesture for one of surrender, shouted with great hope.
False hope.
Black arrows arced out from the Shadow Hawks, cutting down the ranks pressing the Desei center. The archers shot again and again, as fast as they could draw and release. Their arrows reached deep into the Helosundian formation and the standard-bearers for the Emerald Dog battalion repeatedly died as they fought to keep their unit’s standard from touching the ground.
From behind Pyrust came the rumble of thunder-though he was certain no one in the battle heard it. To the right and left of his hill came the Silver and Iron Hawks. Quartets of horses pulled massive war chariots, with two archers on risers behind the drivers. Sword blades four feet in length had been welded to each axle. They spun and glittered in the morning sunlight as the chariots came around the hill and into the battle.
Arrows ate into the Helosundian flanks, then the chariots grazed past. The blades cut men down horribly and their screams sparked panic in their fellows. Each man on the flank knew he was next, and few willingly faced death. Many fought to get deeper into the formation, which destroyed any pretense of discipline or order. Others just broke and ran-and this tactic was rewarded by an arrow in the back.
Chaos reigned among the Helosundians. Their back ranks turned and ran. The flanks buckled, which allowed his wings to push forward, inverting the battle line. While there were valiant and fierce warriors among the Dogs, they were rebels and did not merit honorable treatment. If they managed to kill his warriors in even combat, squads of Shadow Hawks would order the others back and shoot them.
And, curiously enough, he found no valiant warriors among the Helosundian leaders.
Pyrust watched the rebel force disintegrate, then retrieved his fan, raised it, and snapped it closed. His order slowly filtered through the troops, and they returned to camp, save those set out as pickets, those designated to dispatch the grievously wounded, and those sent to look for prisoners who might have information or be good for ransom.
He studied the field, then shook his head. As Urmyr has said in The Dance of War, with an understanding of weakness and strength, an army can strike like a millstone cast at an egg. The Helosundian force had been smashed and its yolk lay red and writhing on what once had been a green field.
“Yours is a great victory, Highness.”
Pyrust tucked his fan into his left gauntlet. “So it would seem, Mother of Shadows. Then again, a millstone should crush an egg, should it not? We shall see how things go when we meet another millstone.”
The crone pointed south toward Nalenyr. “The millstone waiting you there is small and brittle. Prince Eiran commands a Naleni force made up of westron troops. They will not stop you.”
“Do they know we are coming?”
“Not yet. Your Black Hawks and Stone Hawks have cut the road south, so refugees will flee toward Vallitsi. They will have things to tell the Council of Ministers.”
Pyrust nodded. “News from home?”
“All is well, though work slows because of those being drawn into the military. No alarm has gone out. The Hyreothi ambassador thought to send a message, but his courier died.” The assassin’s eyes narrowed. “I do have more news from the south, Highness.”
“Yes?”
“The reason the westrons are under Helosundian command is because Count Turcol of Jomir is dead. He was riding with Prince Cyron when bandits ambushed the royal party. All of the westrons died and Cyron was grievously wounded.”