Daish galloped away, and passed Yasmyn as he left. “The Lenays are crossing the river as they pull back,” she informed Sasha when she arrived, “they're coming under our artillery cover. The Regent's forces pursue, but not hard; they seem shocked.”
“Lenayin does that,” Sasha agreed.
Yasmyn smiled ferociously. “The artillery captain tells me that any who pursue them beneath his fire will regret it. How goes the fight?”
Sasha merely pointed. Yasmyn watched for a moment. “Courageous,” she said. “Should you send more?”
“In very little time I'm not going to have enough,” Sasha replied. “Even with what I have now.”
“Like trying to plug twelve holes with ten fingers.”
Sasha nodded. “Soon we'll be using toes.”
Jaryd made his second run back at a canter, holding a Valhanan man with a slashed arm before him in the saddle. The Valhanan had insisted upon walking, but lost a lot of blood, and his comrades had insisted he take a horse. Jaryd rode with him in front so he could be caught if he fell.
The Army of Lenayin retreated in good order along the south side of the valley, beneath heights held by the Ilduuri. Many were frustrated, yelling aloud to any commander who would listen that they should turn about and go straight back. No doubt enough of them remained in good enough shape that they would win yet another glorious victory, and then perhaps another, if they wished. But after a few more such victories, the Regent's army would simply continue to advance, while the Army of Lenayin would fairly much cease to exist.
The Rhodaani Steel now advanced in gleaming squares up the valley centre, men on the near flank sending cheers to the retreating Lenays, who saluted back in good humour. No doubt the Rhodaanis were somewhat cheered to see that despite obvious losses, the Army of Lenayin still appeared strong and in high spirits. Jaryd looked at those tightly packed squares of Rhodaanis, and wondered if the same would stand for them, when the hellfire rounds began falling.
He joined other cavalry heading upslope and around the valley wall, and then down again to the far side. There, a hospital was working feverishly in the yard of a farmhouse, and he was assisted by Jahndi women in taking the wounded Lenay from his saddle. There were many serrin here also, men and women, villagers from across Saalshen who had come to help, yet could not fight. Many of those were learning archery, which could certainly be of use in later defence, even if poorly aimed. Others made arrows, or ballista bolts, or even hellfire, prepared further defences, and helped to tend the wounded.
On a horse nearby he saw a familiar figure directing a steady flow of wagons that now trundled out from Jahnd, and threatened to make a blockage as they churned up the valley roads. Jaryd smiled, as she talked to some hard-of-hearing individual who had aroused her displeasure.
“No!” Sofy was insisting loudly. “Dismantle the fence-you can't fit all these wagons through that gate. Bring the fence down and then you can move as many wagons as you like back and forth, otherwise we'll never move wounded as fast as they arrive!”
She was about to go on to the next trouble spot when she saw him. And smiled with a delight that set his heart to thumping, even despite all the thumping it had just done for different reasons. She trotted quickly over.
“I heard they were magnificent!” she said.
“Lenayin's finest hour,” said Jaryd. “Pity Koenyg wasn't there to be part of it.”
Sofy's eyes fell, and she swallowed. Jaryd regretted he'd said it. “You're well?” she asked, recovering quickly.
“I'm well, Damon too, most of his friends. Casualties quite light, all things considered, but still too high.”
“Better than it could have been,” said Sofy, with feeling. Jaryd nodded. “Jaryd…”
“I know,” he said, and smiled. He wanted to kiss her, but she looked so busy, and there were wounded all around. She had done this kind of thing before, and with her authority, she could make things happen. “You take care.”
“And you,” she said. “Is Sasha…?”
“She's fine. Don't worry about us, Sofy. You save some lives.”
Sofy nodded with determination, spun her horse, and cantered off to supervise more arrivals. Jaryd looked around.
A steady stream of wounded continued to arrive, many of them on horseback. Jaryd saw a serrin man with two Lenays balanced on his horse, and three Lenay infantry, big, ferocious-looking men, one of whom carried a small serrin woman with a wounded leg. So many stories, he thought. So many hopes, friendships, and tragedies, unfolding upon these lands. He imagined the Army of Lenayin, marching triumphant back to their homeland, with a number of serrin wives accompanying them. A few serrin women at least might find the idea appealing…provided their new husbands promised them lives filled with more than that of a traditional Lenay wife. And he imagined himself, arriving back in his homeland, a new noble title to his name and with Sofy in a saddle beside him.
Jaryd sighed, shook his head to clear it of unnecessary thoughts, and cantered off to the path along the wall, and his army beyond.
The Ilduuri were running back up the slope. Exhausted, some half-carrying wounded comrades, they struggled and strained up the grassy hill, around rocky outcrops and charred trees. Arrows streaked up and into them, lower velocity on the upward arc, but still fast enough to pierce exposed flesh and mail. Running men fell, and were helped up by comrades, but the Regent's men were pursuing behind, and those in the rear were fighting a desperate rearguard.
“Lowest slope!” Sasha yelled at her archers. “Let nothing fall short!” Arrows streaked away, and then fell, a long, fast plummet toward the bottom of the slope. “Yasmyn, get back to the artillery and tell them to fire only at the lowest slope, nothing falls short!”
Yasmyn galloped off. Sasha did not trust the trumpet now to call artillery-its notes did not allow for enough precision, and she was desperate to avoid killing her own men with those terrible weapons.
A new, whistling, thudding noise drew her attention back down the slope. Ballistas by the Ipshaal River were firing uphill. They could not elevate enough to hit the ridge, but their bolts were streaking by the score straight into her struggling, retreating men who were now approaching midslope. She saw them hit, smashed, and pinned into the turf, armour and all. She saw men trying to retrieve fallen comrades, only to find them literally stuck to the ground. The screams were a horror, and she could see their faces, eyes up toward the ridge, desperate to reach that safety.
And now, at midslope but further to the right, clustered beneath their shields for protection from Ilduuri archers, a large mass of Bacosh soldiery was preparing to hit those climbing men from the side.
“Captain Dalen!” she yelled. “Form another three companies and sweep down this ridge! Clear those scum off our mountain!”
Captain Dalen rushed to do that. Some fast orders and men sprinted from amongst the ridgeline trees to make new lines. More ballista fire tore into the retreating party. They were not nearly so fast now as on their morning runs. The Ilduuri Steel were tough and talented, yet they had not seen heavy battle in a long while, and perhaps had not realised that fast manoeuvres in training, and fast manoeuvres after heavy fighting were completely different things.
With a roar, the new Ilduuri line went over the edge and plunged down the slope. Archers sent arrows whistling ahead of them as Bacosh soldiers appeared from cover and tried to make a line. On the downslope, against Ilduuris desperate to cover their comrades, they had little chance. Still some of the Bacosh line was engaging the climbing Ilduuris, exhausted men fighting hard just to get through, until their comrades arrived and sent the Regent's soldiers fleeing down to the bottom.