Rendd, small and sleepy, from what he had heard, should present little or no problem, but Viernce was different. Large, walled and almost certainly garrisoned, it had loomed large in Bethlarii minds as the source of a great defeat brought about by an unexpected resistance on the part of a few brave and ferocious soldiers. It would therefore have to be approached and taken with the utmost skill and speed. But taken it must be. Taken and crushed so that no vestige of resistance lay in its people and so that it could be maintained thus by a comparatively small force. He would need every one of his men to complete the most important stage of his conquest of these rich and lush southern lands, for only when Viernce was quelled would he be able to venture safely westwards towards Whendrak to annihilate whichever battle-weary army had survived the war that he and the blind man had so painstakingly engineered. After that, the pacification of the rest of the country could confidently be left in the hands of his officers while he turned his mind to the running of his new kingdom.
The culmination of his long-planned ambition rising before him dispelled the momentary anxiety that Ivaroth had felt at the folly of his men in attacking so incompetently this small force they had come upon. Endryn was right, they'd been too long fighting women and old men. He'd bang a few heads together later, and that, coupled with the casualties these southerners were inflicting on them, would soon give them their edge again.
Even so, came the persistent cautionary note, he must keep a careful eye on what was happening. Good horses were good horses and too valuable to be casually thrown away. The local horses were no good.
Unaware of the brooding presence of the creator of his troubles, Larnss moved restlessly about the square, doing what he could to keep up the heart of his men.
'Hold firm. No horse is going to charge a solid spear line. They're not as stupid as men. Archers, save your arrows for the leading horses. Take your time. Don't miss!'
But if every arrow killed a dozen horses and a dozen men, it would be to no avail, he realized, as the brief interlude following the first charge gave his training an opportunity to exert itself and he did a quick estimate of the massive force ranged against them. It was a chilling deduction. The attackers, whoever they were, seemed to have neither archers nor infantry with which to soften up the squares, but it was asking a lot of even the finest foot soldiers to stand firm against charge after charge.
'You can't suppress the flesh,’ someone had once told him when he argued the impossibility of cavalry breaking up disciplined infantry. ‘You wait until you've stood there holding your pike with a line of horses charging at you. It's a matter of whose nerve goes first.'
And there was no question about whose nerve would go first here.
Nevertheless, the only protection that his company had was to stand as long as they could, and to use their few archers to break up any charges while their arrows lasted. Then …
The question was replaced by another before he could form the grim answer. What were these people doing here? This was clearly Serenstad territory and they had attacked his force without any semblance of warning. They must be what the Duke had feared when he ordered full voluntary mobilization and alerted all border cities and towns to watch for surprise attacks.
Rendd!
The vision of the little city-his responsibility-being overwhelmed by these invaders suddenly filled his mind. With a large part of its defending force tied down here, Rendd could not hope to stand against such an army.
He must get a warning to them.
Scarcely had the thought occurred to him than a darker one formed. Viernce! After Rendd this must surely be the destination of these riders. And from there …!
He cursed himself for not bringing his horse.
A cry drew his attention back to the riders. They had regrouped and were starting to gallop forward again. This time they were coming in two wide columns, presumably with the intention of sweeping through the gaps between the squares and wheeling to attack on all sides.
It was an awesome sight and Larnss felt the panic mounting in the men around him.
'First man to falter, I kill,’ he roared spitting out his own terror into the words. ‘They're riders, not cavalrymen. Look at them! A mob! Archers, take those leading horses! Bring them down! If any get through seize the horses, we must get a message back to Rendd.'
Roughly he yanked a junior trooper from the rear ranks. ‘You can ride, I've seen you,’ he shouted into the young man's frightened face to make himself heard above the mounting din. ‘If we can get a horse, you're to ride to Rendd and tell them…’ He looked around desperately. Rendd was too big to evacuate and too small to stand against this invader. ‘Tell them what's happened here and to make whatever peace they can with these people, delaying them as much as they can. Then get a fresh horse and get to Viernce and warn the garrison there.'
The trooper nodded vaguely, but the approaching horsemen now drew all attention.
As much by coincidence as by intent, several archers from the three squares loosed their arrows at the same time and a dozen or more horses at the head of each column came crashing down, unseating their riders violently and bringing down several of the horses immediately behind them.
Nevertheless, many riders leapt over-or moved around the chaos and reached the squares. There was a brief savage interlude as the reservists wielded their spears frantically, unhorsing many of the riders and killing or injuring several others.
The squares held again, but only just, and the riders began to retreat in disorder once more. Dragging the trooper with him, Larnss pushed through the shield wall and seized the bridle of a riderless horse.
'Get on it and go!’ he roared. ‘Rendd and Viernce! As you've never ridden before!’ The young man hesitated, then leapt into the saddle when he saw the fury rising in Larnss’ face.
Larnss slapped the horse and, with an awkward salute, the trooper spurred it forward towards the stream.
'They're coming again!’ came the cry.
Larnss, however, was watching the receding rider, now guiding his horse into the hectic stream. Then to his horror, he saw two riders splashing down the stream after him. An arrow took one of them, but the other continued.
The young trooper saw the impending danger and tried to urge his horse on, but it slipped and stumbled, unseating him.
Without thinking, Larnss sheathed his sword and set off down the slight slope at full tilt. Both horse and trooper had regained their feet and, with one hand clasping the horse's reins, the trooper was struggling to draw his sword to defend himself against the approaching attacker when Larnss hurled himself from the bank of the stream and brought both horse and rider crashing down heavily in a flurry of spray and flailing limbs.
Holding his victim's head under the water, Larnss shouted to the trooper who was wading towards him.
'Go, man! Take this horse as well, and go!'
The trooper obeyed, at some speed.
Then, still holding the struggling rider under water with one hand, Larnss drew his sword and thrust it into the submerged body. There was a brief, bloodstained thrashing, then stillness. He relinquished his charge and the current caught it and carried it a few paces downstream before it wedged on a rock.
Larnss paused and looked for a moment at the first man he had ever killed. He felt numb.
But the commotion of the greater battle asserted itself over his own needs almost immediately.
'No!’ he cried out desperately as he looked back towards his beleaguered command. His precipitate flight to help the messenger had been misunderstood and panic had struck the middle square even before the riders had. Now they were scattered and fleeing, with triumphant horsemen pursuing them, cutting them down with swords and axes, and skewering them on lances. The other squares, now heavily beset, were crumbling also.