The Shasht War (6 page)

They returned to study the map. After a few minutes Colss ordered more scouts to pick their way north along the road. He wanted to know the location of the enemy force.

Issa and Beerg, meanwhile were given food and medical care. Beerg had some cuts and scratches. Issa was very hungry, not having eaten properly for days. Thru stopped briefly beside the young mor, who was emptying a bowl of hot bushpod paste.

"Go with the spirit's blessing, young Issa."

"Thank you, sir. Thank you for what you did."

They clasped hands for a moment, and then he left her in the hands of the army cooks. Now he had to rejoin his own regiments.

Making his way through the army, he came upon his own mots at the side of the road just north of Chenna, where they were taking a quick meal. He found Ter-Saab and the other officers drawn up and awaiting his inspection. He'd been spotted approaching down the lane. The story of his encounter with the enemy in the forest had already spread, and he was cheered by many of the mots as he passed.

He responded with his best salute and then moved along the line of officers, each standing stiffly to attention, as if he'd never been away. He'd let them down by being absent when the call came, but he was back in time for the fighting, and along the way he'd added to his reputation by saving that young mor. The story of their flight through the forest had spread wildly in the ranks. He could see a renewed pride for him, their brigadier, in every eye.

Ter-Saab was smiling broadly when it was done and they could talk alone.

"They'll fight to the death for you now."

Thru was startled a little by that idea. Then he chuckled, a little defensively.

"Well, we're all going to be fighting for our lives pretty soon. There's six thousand enemy soldiers just up the road, and they know we're here."

Ter-Saab whistled.

Thru turned back to more mundane matters, such as the morale of the other regiment in his brigade, still back at camp in Glais.

"So, how did the Grys take the news?"

"Ah," Ter-Saab tugged at his cheek fur. "Well, he was somewhat indignant at having to stay in Glaine. He's waiting for the order to follow on."

"Mmm, well, we could probably use all the other regiments. We're not in a good position. They'll be getting the call soon enough I'd wager."

"We outnumber the enemy."

"But he is between the two halves of our army. And only half our army is capable of maneuver. The rest are raw recruits. If the men get in among them, they might break."

"Well, we can do better than that."

"Yes, I'm confident in this regiment. But we're nowhere up to the level of the enemy's training."

Ter-Saab tugged at his cheek fur. He knew there was no answer to that.

"So," said Thru, "what's our strength now?"

"At the morning count we had 817 effectives, 12 in medical tent."

"That's pretty good considering you've been on the road for days."

"These are hill mots and brilbies. Tough as old kob hide they are."

"They'll need to be. Let me show you the dispositions."

Ter-Saab unrolled his own map, which covered the western half of Annion county.

An hour passed while Colss waited for better scouting reports. Thru sat under a tree and rested from the exertions in the forest. A meal of bushpod paste and dried biscuit was brought around with a pot of hot tea to wash it down.

A messenger arrived from the scouting parties. Colss immediately requested Thru's presence in the command post. When Thru got there, Colss had a larger scale map opened on a folding table.

"Well, Colonel Gillo, we have no positive sign of the enemy. Scouts went all the way up to Shimpli-Dindi, too."

Thru was surprised. "Then either I'm wrong about those scouts we met in the forest, or the enemy is already moving against the Meld."

"Which is what I'm thinking. He saw the Meld in position up there and decided to have a go at him. Our job is to move right up behind them and attack them from the rear, force them to split their force."

Little alarm bells were ringing for Thru. They were now engaged in the most deadly game, probing through these forests for an enemy capable of destroying either half of their army.

"The scouts saw nothing?"

"They saw signs of the enemy's passage, all the way up and down that road. But they didn't see the enemy."

"He could be withdrawn into the woods."

"I don't think so. I think he's going for the Meld, and we've got to hurry up that road and stop him."

"Yes, sir."

"Catch him between two stones and crush him!"

The orders went out, and the mots were up and moving, with an eager spring to their steps. This was what they had been trained for all winter. Now was their chance to avenge Creton and Tamf.

They advanced down a straight stretch of road with flat polder off to their right, bordering the river. They crossed the Chenna Bridge and went on through the village, which, though empty was untouched. Beyond the village the road ran between meticulously kept fields bounded by wooded hills. The enemy were not in sight; however, along the road debris of all kinds had been tossed aside. They saw scraps of clothing, plundered from a mot village, fragments of bushpod, and empty sacks that had once held dried apples.

The mot regiments moved up the road in a long column. The Sixth Regiment was in second place, with the Fourteenth in front and the Second right behind. The Fourteenth set a good pace. In fact, the Sixth were slowly losing ground.

Thru had dropped back to talk with Ter-Saab about this. The Sixth were tired, yes, they were all tired, but there was a fight coming today and they had to be ready for it. Thru wanted his mots to pick up the slack, at once.

Suddenly there was a shout; heads came up.

Scouts were running down from the nearest wooded hill, and were waving their arms wildly. Thru felt a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach.

Bugles blew up and down the columns. The regiments crashed to a halt. Orders went out at once to turn to the right and form in defensive alignment.

Thru saw Colss hurrying past, flanked by worried-looking aides. He met the scouts halfway across the nearest field. There was a hurried conference and more orders came down. The men were coming; they were hidden in the trees off the road.

Thru felt a thrill of dismay. They had marched into an ambush. Worse, they were strung out on the road with the broad river at their back. The enemy hoped to trap them here and destroy them with his superior numbers.

And then the men broke out of cover from the trees. A long line of them, their armor glinting in the sunlight, their long red banners unfurled and flapping in the wind, and the sound of their drums throbbing through the air.

Thru felt the tension rise. Here they came. Now would be the decision. More flags appeared, dozens of them, as more regiments emerged from the trees. Thru realized that six thousand might be an underestimate. Skirmishers, peltasts with bows and javelins, were hurrying forward to make contact.

Mot archers were sent forward, too, and soon shimmering arrows were whistling through the air. As the arrows fell among the ranks a mot here, a brilby there, staggered and fell.

"Prepare to receive the enemy!" came the command from Colss.

The pikebearing Quarter moved to form the front line. Behind them was a line of mots armed with two throwing spears. Behind them was the third line, mots armed with spear and shield who would move forward to engage when and if the pike line was ruptured.

In that event the big kobs and brilbies who wielded the pikes would move to the rear and form a new line with whatever weapons were available.

They had practiced these maneuvers countless times. Thru prayed that they could execute them now when their lives depended on it, when the chaos and the tension could make mots panic and run if their discipline broke.

The archers fell back and filed through the lines. The enemy skirmishers had retired as well. Now the long lines of men marched closer under the ominous scarlet banners with the white fist of Shasht raised high.

Mots waited, as calmly as they might, shields and spears ready. At the order they lifted their spears into place.

The men now gave a great shout and broke into a run. The drums were banging insanely behind them, and their war cry echoed off the forested hillsides.

Arrows began to fall among the mots, so they raised their shields. Mot archers were already pacing their ranging shots among the advancing horde.

Coming at a run now, the lines of men were still holding firm. They had their throwing spears at the ready, their shields bobbing as they ran. Spears flew between the closing lines, here and there a man fell. Mots sagged and crumpled as spears found gaps between shields.

Then the men came up against the pikes.

They swung shields and engaged with their spears. The pikes and spontoons were wielded by the strongest brilbies and kobs. They pulled and jabbed, keeping the men at bay. The momentum of the charge was dissipated. Thru felt a surge of hope. The lines of men piled up just at the outer range of the stabbing pikes. A huge clatter went up as men used shields and swords to try and divert those long, vicious pikes and get in close. Screams of agony and triumph announced the success of the pikebearers as they sought to hook or stab their opponents.

Here and there, though, the men got through. They were veterans and they'd fought against massed pikes before. A skillful parry of the pike, perhaps driving it aside with the shield and the spearman was inside the range of the pikebearer. Another shove, a step or two, and the spear or sword could be buried in the chest of the pikebearer.

This was where the mots in the second line came forward to engage, pushing past the pikebearers. However, this tended to break up the pike formation, and that allowed more men to push in past the lethal pike points. Mots and brilbies died as the lines coagulated and the formation broke up.

Colss had waited too long to order the pikebearers to withdraw. In truth, they lacked time to execute any such maneuver. Pressed this hard by men skilled at turning aside a pike, they could do nothing except struggle to hold the front.

But after just a few minutes of this furious battering, the pikes had been abandoned, broken off or their bearers forced back into the general mass of mots. The pikes had proved a failure, despite the training.

The men were better trained, but their superiority was dissipated in the brutal slugging match that developed. So the battle teetered here, neither side gaining an advantage, while every so often a combatant would stagger back and sit down, stabbed too badly to continue.

Now the enemy began to use their superior numbers, concentrating the weight of their attacks at either end of the line of mots, forcing them back into a U that was anchored on the river. Inside the U was a stretch of polder, broken up by low stone walls across the fertile muck.

The ring of sword on sword was coming more and more often as spears were given up in the tighter press. Within the press it was becoming very difficult to move. The mots went back, step by step, but they were stubborn and exacted a toll from the men who pressed forward. The dead continued to accumulate.

Thru saw the danger of the slow movement backward. The U would contract until the mots were eventually crowded against the stone walls of the polder. Their formations would break up against those walls, and they would be slaughtered in the confined spaces.

He pulled Ter-Saab aside.

"Have to counterattack. Before we get crushed into those walls."

Ter-Saab had seen the problem as well.

"Get two hundred mots," said Thru. "We're going to surprise them."

"Easier said than done," said Ter-Saab, looking at the sprawling lines, locked in combat.

"Get it done!"

Thru turned away to organize a line of archers. He wanted a sudden storm of well-directed fire at a narrow part of the enemy line. The archers were to be thrust into the heart of the fight, where they could make sure of their targets.

As it happened, Thru and Ter-Saab were given a gift. For a moment there was a spontaneous separation of the lines, both sides drawing breath.

Ter-Saab used it to pull a Quarter into shape. His big voice was unmistakable as he bellowed orders to whip the mots into four short lines. Archers came forward to take up places at the ends of these lines. The order was given, and just as the Shasht drums started, the mots drove forward. The front line parted, the assault group burst through and attacked the enemy line.

The tip of the assault was borne by a dozen kobs and brilbies carrying spontoons. They hooked and pulled and stabbed and kicked their way through the opposing line. In a matter of minutes the enemy regiment was broken into two halves. The mot archers fired along the lines and took many victims.

The enemy horns wailed with a frantic edge, the drums thudded, and stentorian voices yelled orders, for the Shasht line was broken.

Another regiment came hurrying across from the center to fill the gap, but for the moment the intruding assault group was free to turn the lines on either side and break up the entire enemy formation.

Training had paid off. The attacking Quarter had kept a vestige of organization. The mots of the first line went into defensive deployment, while the rest turned on the men to their left and right and enlarged the breach in the lines of the enemy regiment.

Suddenly the whole fight broke open as the men's lines collapsed completely. The mots of the rest of the line pressed forward, spears stabbing into the confused and broken masses in front.

Men died in exactly the way that Thru had seen so many mots die on the field at Dronned when their formations broke up. The side in chaos, with soldiers getting in each other's way, was the side that took the casualties. But now the enemy's reserve regiment was ready to engage, and the mots of the Sixth came to a halt. Orders went out for them to fall back to preserve the main battle line.

Alas, as can happen with relatively untrained troops, the grand but terrible energy of battle had overwhelmed their discipline. Having the hated enemy on the run and vulnerable to their spears was so intoxicating that they could not be stopped. They kept pressing, moving farther apart from the main line.