Fourday is not much different, except that no companies attempt attacks on the Meroweyans, who, from what Lerial can see and the scouts report, are occupied in readying for some action.
When Lerial asks Altyrn what he thinks, the majer smiles grimly. “They’ll attack tomorrow morning, but not before seventh glass or more likely eighth. We’ll arrange all the rankers on foot with bows ready. We’ll loose every shaft we can into the attackers, and then withdraw. The councils sent a wagonload of war arrows, thank the Rational Stars. The Meroweyans will have to hack or burn their way into the Verd. That will keep the entry points narrow and enable us to attack them in positions where they can’t overwhelm us with sheer numbers. At least for a while.”
“How will you know where they’ll attack?”
“You and the few Verdyn ordermages will tell me. So will the scouts posted in the barrier trees.”
“You never did plan to stand up to a massed attack, did you?”
The majer shakes his head. “I’m sure the Meroweyans know that as well, but if we hadn’t mustered out here, they could have begun attacking the Verd with no casualties at all … and at their leisure. Now they know that we can continue to bleed and harass them as long as they do not attack, and they know that they would lose many more armsmen that way. I wouldn’t be surprised if the commanding officer has doubts about the whole idea of attacking Verdheln. That doubt will cost. If he doesn’t have doubts, then they’ll lose even more armsmen.”
Lerial has to think that over before he nods.
“As for you, get some rest, and make sure your company does as well. I’ll send for you if I need anything.” With that, Altyrn returns to his papers and maps.
Lerial follows the majer’s instructions-or orders, and by seventh glass on fiveday morning second company is lined up on foot with bows in hand and quivers full of arrows a good two hundred yards forward of the tree line, almost exactly where the ground slopes away into the low valley that separates the two forces. All the tents have been struck, and all the wagons have departed into the Verd. So have all but a handful of mounts, including the gelding Lerial rides, and two squads from Altyrn’s own first company, although an older ranker acting as a company squad leader is actually giving the commands. First company is posted so that the road from Yakaat to the Verd lies at the point where the rankers of first and second companies adjoin each other. Lerial’s second company is to the east of first company, Juist’s third company to the west of first company, while Kusyl’s fourth company flanks second company on the east. Sixth company is the farthest east and fifth the farthest west.
After surveying the Meroweyan forces, now forming up, Lerial glances back at his own rankers-spread in a staggered double file facing south and waiting, if in somewhat relaxed positions, since Lerial knows it will likely be a glass, if not longer, before the attackers advance to the point where the archers can target them.
At around eighth glass, a series of horn calls echo across the low valley in the cool spring air, and Lerial can immediately see that the dark mass of Meroweyan forces begins to move, although there are gaps between companies. As he watches from the east end of second company, he can see that, at the center of the Meroweyan advance, is a line of shieldmen. Immediately behind them are pikemen, whose weapons extend beyond the shields, a distance even greater than the length of a Mirror Lance. Behind the pikemen, a good five yards back, are armsmen on foot, with small circular shields on one arm and, presumably, a blade in the other, at least when they plan to engage the Verdyn force. On each flank of the foot armsmen are mounted companies.
Lerial calculates that there are roughly two thousand armsmen on foot, in two formations, one group of roughly ten companies, followed by a second. All in all, the Meroweyan force attacking stretches a third of a kay from side to side, more than twice the width and ten times or more the depth of the thin line formed by the six Verdyn companies.
There is certain majesty, Lerial has to admit, to the ponderous and even advance of the Meroweyans down the far slope and across the flat bottom of the valley.
Even when the Meroweyans have almost reached the point where the ground rises toward the edge of the Verd, Lerial can sense no chaos wizards and no chaos. Have they shielded themselves … or are they saving their powers for later? He shrugs fatalistically. There is no way of telling, and he has no experience in a pitched battle upon which he might draw for even an educated guess.
He hears hooves and glances to the west, where he sees a ranker wearing the green and white sash of a messenger riding toward him. He waits, and the Lancer reins up beside him.
“The majer has orders, ser. Have your rankers ignore the front line and target the foot armsmen or the mounted riders behind them. Then withdraw when ordered, but not before the company to the east of you.”
“Inform the majer that second company understands and will obey.”
“Yes, ser.” The ranker nods, then urges his mount eastward toward fourth company.
Lerial turns to Korlyn. “You heard that. Have all rankers target the armsmen or cavalry behind the shields and pikes. Pass it on. Send a messenger to the other squad leaders.”
“Yes, ser.”
Another quarter glass passes before the Meroweyans near the thin line of defenders. Then a high shrill and shuddering pipe sound blares out-Altyrn’s command to fire at will.
“Fire at will!” Lerial orders, adding “Take your time!” Even though he has briefed the squad leaders on the battle plan, which requires first and second company to loose arrows for longer, which is why his men and women have more shafts than do those in fifth and sixth company, he still wants to reinforce that order.
All the rankers loose the first volley, and hundreds of arrows arc down toward the mass of attackers behind the shield line.
Lerial looks at the advancing Meroweyan line, still moving steadily upslope, but just over two hundred yards away. He can see armsmen begin to drop as the Verdyn shafts sheet down into the central mass of attackers. Still, the shieldmen and the pikemen plod uphill, and the number of armsmen who stagger or fall seems small indeed compared to the total Merowyan host. Lerial looks to the east, seeing that the rankers of Denieryn’s sixth company are loosing their shafts as fast as they can-as ordered.
In what feels like a matter of moments, although it is doubtless longer than that, Lerial thinks, a double blare of the battle pipes sounds. He glances eastward. The rankers of sixth company are moving quickly, not quite running, but moving at a trot behind fourth company and toward second company and the road into the Verd. Fifth company should be doing the same, but even mounted, Lerial cannot see if they are.
A series of horn commands comes from the rear of the Merowyan force, and the shieldmen and pikemen pick up their pace, but Lerial can see that they are not moving that much faster, but then they are going uphill while carrying heavy shields and pikes. Still the arrows fall into the armsmen, and he can actually see some few gaps in places.
A triple blare of the battle pipes shrills across the Verdyn lines, and Lerial hears Kusyl’s voice from the east.
“Fourth company! Withdraw! Deliberate speed!”
Lerial glances down and along the line of his rankers. Most still have perhaps five or six shafts in their quivers. Those won’t last long enough. “Slow your fire!”
“Slow your fire! Pass it on!” repeats Korlyn.