“Nock shafts.” Even as Lerial gives the command, he can see gestures from below indicating that they have been sighted.
“First volley!
“Second volley!
“Third volley!”
Lerial is surprised to see armsmen below going down … and more than a few, as many as a third of those in the first company, if not more. Still … others are turning their mounts toward the hillside.
With a quick shake of his head, he snaps, “To the rear, quick-time! Ride!”
This time the Verdheln Lancers and their mounts move quickly.
“Lancers! Left turn! Left turn!”
From what Lerial can see, only two riders try to turn the wrong direction. But, on the other side of the hill, he can sense chaos building. A firebolt?
As the chaos-fire screams down toward the archers, Lerial forces himself to concentrate, as he creates a fifteen-line pattern to angle the chaos to the south. The pattern seems to vanish, but the firebolt angles well to the south, a good fifty yards from the nearest Lancer. As it strikes the ground, a wave of fire washes outward a good five yards in every direction. In instants, there is nothing within that circle except fine drifting ash and blackened earth.
If that hit trees … Altyrn’s concerns about using the trees as a first line of defense suddenly become much more real. So do his concerns about the Meroweyans as he senses at least one company charging up the hill.
“Company! Quick-time! Forward!
“Quick-time! Forward!” echo the squad leaders.
Lerial, now at the rear of the company, senses yet another chaos-bolt arching down toward second squad and immediately creates a diversion pattern.
The chaos-fire seems to skid above second squad, close enough that Lerial can feel the heat, before almost bouncing farther to the east and landing amid a cluster of bushes. Flame flares skyward.
Lerial is ready to order a full gallop, but he senses that the Meroweyan armsmen have slowed as they near the top of the hill. Nonetheless, he keeps glancing back as the fourth squad leader, Moraris, now at the front of the two-file column, keeps the company moving quickly northward and away from the ambush site.
From the east, Gherst and Vominem come racing forward to join up with Lerial, although they do not reach him until he has traveled almost half a kay.
“They’ve slowed, ser,” reports Gherst, “but they’re still following.”
Lerial finds himself shivering and shuddering as he tries to reach out to the west to determine the progress of the main Meroweyan force. He takes a deep breath.
“Are you all right, ser?” asks Korlyn.
“A … little … tired…”
Even without trying, Lerial can sense the squad leader’s concern. “I’ll be fine … in a bit.”
A flash of dizziness washes over Lerial, and he has to concentrate so much to remain in the saddle that he only catches fragments of the words exchanged by Gherst and Korlyn..
“… wrong with the captain?”
“… has to be using order … knows where they were…”
“… maybe … something … see how the firebolts swerved…”
Almost a quarter of a glass passes before Lerial can really do much but stay in the saddle. Finally, he is able to ride forward to the front of first squad. “Sorry … Korlyn. Are they still following us?”
“Doesn’t look like it. Did you keep those fireballs from hitting us, ser?”
“Yes. It took more strength than I thought … appreciate it if you’d keep what it did to me between us…”
“I can do that, ser.”
Gherst and Vominem also strongly suspect that, but, for the moment, Lerial would prefer that the remaining rankers not know just how close many of them came to being obliterated.
Slowly, he works out the bottle containing the greenberry juice and begins to drink, carefully, hoping that it will help with the remaining dizziness. After several swallows, he glances back, but can see no sign of the Meroweyans.
“Begging your pardon, ser … but you’ve not given an order as to where we’re headed, except for away from the Meroweyans.”
“Back to the marshaling point, and you’re right. I’ll ride forward and have Moraris pass the order back.” Lerial offers a ragged grin. “I appreciate the reminder.”
Korlyn nods in return, and Lerial urges the gelding forward.
Lerial’s dizziness has almost subsided completely when second company reaches Altyrn’s main force, marshaled less than five hundred yards south of where the road reaches the woods. After seeing that his company is fed, and their mounts watered and also given some fodder, Lerial seeks out Altyrn, who is seated behind a small table under a small awning just forward of the low stone wall that contains the green fronting the seemingly endless line of ancient and massive trees that protect Verdheln. The majer looks up from his camp table and the map spread on it, but waits for Lerial to speak.
“We attacked and hit them with three volleys. The Verdyn archers are good. I’d guess that the shafts struck a third to a half of the vanguard. They reacted quickly, the way you said they would. Some of them were starting up the slope when we withdrew. I followed your advice, ser. We didn’t stay for a fourth volley.”
Altyrn nods. “Did you suffer any casualties?”
“No, ser.”
“How close were you?”
“About a hundred and fifty yards.”
“You should have hit many from that range. How did you get that close? Didn’t they have scouts out to the side?”
“They did…” Lerial goes on to explain.
The majer frowns. “I’m surprised some of the rankers didn’t give you away.”
“I told them they’d be in darkness. They kept quiet.”
“What about chaos-fire?”
“They do have at least one white wizard. He threw two firebolts at us-that I saw, anyway. We were already moving, and they missed. One came pretty close. I could feel the heat. I’d guess that by the time the magus or white wizard could throw another we were too far away.”
“You don’t think he was just tired?”
“Both of them were strong. It seemed that way to me. Each one burned everything to the bare earth across a circle more than five yards across.”
“That’s only moderately strong. How far were you from the wizard?”
“I don’t know. We were more than four hundred yards from the nearest part of the main force. Where the wizard was I couldn’t say.”
“Most likely not near the front.” Altyrn smiles faintly. “Let’s say you turned fifty armsmen into casualties. We’ll only need forty-nine more attacks like that.”
“You’re saying we won’t get near that many.”
“Kusyl’s out there with fourth company. He has a different ambush strategy. Let’s see how he does. If we’re fortunate, between the two of you we might have removed the equivalent of a single company.”
“What about Juist?”
“He’ll be trying something else … later … if we get the chance.”
“Do you think they’ll attack today?”
“Knowing what I know, if I were the Meroweyan commander, I certainly would. Knowing something about them, I’d be very surprised if they attack even tomorrow. While I hope I’m right, we need to be prepared for whatever they might do.” He pauses and looks hard at Lerial. “You need something to eat and drink. Do that before you do anything else. That’s an order. After that, check your men and mounts again-you were getting them fed, I saw-and come back here.”
“Yes, ser.”
The majer looks down at the map-an effective dismissal-and Lerial steps back, then turns and heads for the cookfires. His stomach is growling, and his head still aches.
LV
Over the course of the late morning and early afternoon, Lerial tries to rest, and does manage to eat, although he’s anything but fond of acorn bread, but the cheese, which has a sort of blue mold through it, makes the bread palatable. Since Altyrn does not summon him, slightly after the third glass of the afternoon, he makes his way back to the awning. The majer is not there. Lerial wonders where he might be, but since he cannot see him, he walks back to rejoin his company.