They clashed too with the soldiers who pursued them, forming a rearguard that was fresh and full of fight. Heavy clashes followed, lines of Ilduuri men repelling great waves of Bacosh soldiers, and killing many with the great advantage of skill, armour, and height. Finally, the artillery was resuming, first ballista fire spattering across the lower slope, and then the blinding flashes of hellfire.
Retreating Ilduuris made the ridge and collapsed to hands and knees, gasping for air. Comrades helped them, and moved them back into the trees so they did not block the way for others coming up. Some came up wounded, helped by friends, some with arrows sticking through legs or arms, and some with worse. Sasha remained out of their way, doing some rough counting. Downslope, Bacosh men were falling back fast. As they did so, Bacosh artillery resumed firing at their newly available targets-the second wave of Ilduuri soldiers now at midslope. More were hit, with brutal force.
“Trumpeter!” Sasha yelled. “Full retreat, get them back up here!”
The exhausted, battered Ilduuris looked dejected. They'd overrun several ballistas and a catapult, but had been unable to do much damage before the Regent's forces had overwhelmed them. Dead crews would be replaced, and little would change. Now those same ballistas were killing their friends.
Sasha leaped down from her horse and walked amongst them, whacking shoulders and shields with fierce appreciation.
“Magnificent!” she told them, moving from one man to the next. “Brave as all hells! Formidable soldiering, Lenayin could not have done better!”
“We failed you,” a sergeant mumbled, face streaked with sweat and blood.
“You failed no one!” Sasha shouted for all to hear. “You gave them a fucking thrashing. I see their blood all over your swords and shields! It is my fault. I gave you an impossible task and still you nearly pulled it off! You are heroes, each and every one!”
It seemed to have some effect, as men sat to rest, and drink, and check on their friends. Sasha continued walking amongst them, determined to put a hand on as many shoulders and a word of encouragement in as many ears as possible. Now the second rank began returning, some of them wounded, and she walked amongst them as well.
A lieutenant came to her, having made a more precise count. “Six hundred and thirteen missing,” he said quietly. “Another hundred and five too wounded to fight.” Nearly all of those in the first wave, he did not need to say. “Captain Arken is amongst the missing, several say they saw him fall.”
Sasha kept her face stony calm. “Get the wounded to the rear, and put the first wave survivors in reserve for now, they deserve a rest.”
“You had to try,” said the lieutenant. Evidently her attempt at calm was not convincing.
“I know,” she said. “Thank you, Hanser.”
Lieutenant Hanser nodded and left. Sasha stroked her horse's nose for a moment. That had always calmed her in the past. It failed to do so now. She recalled Arken's handsome blue eyes when she'd first met him, the tall blond man who looked so much the Ilduuri ideal, and yet trusted the foreigners that so many of his fellow Ilduuri hated. They would laugh at him now, and consider themselves proven right, as his faith in the foreigners had killed him after all.
Sasha recalled Arken's young family left behind in Andal, and hoped that it was worth it. For a brief moment, nothing was.
TWENTY-FOUR
Kessligh galloped past lines of hospital wagons, and others loaded with ballista bolts for the artillery. He rounded the Dhemerhill Valley's western wall and found the Rhodaani Army in preparation to advance, and General Geralin in final discussions with his officers.
“Balthaar hits the Ilduuri with everything,” said the general. “He attacks not only along their front, but now up the valley sides as well. We must advance, to pressure their flank, or the Ilduuri will lose the ridge.”
Kessligh nodded. “You will be advancing without artillery. You must change the formations-an open formation, as we discussed.”
The general frowned. “We are not accustomed to such formations. They disrupt our pattern of battle.”
“The Regent's artillery will disrupt it more. Your forces are so close together that single hellfire rounds will destroy entire portions of your formation. Should you attack in such a manner, the Rhodaani Steel may be destroyed in its entirety.”
General Geralin had not liked this idea when Kessligh first suggested it, and he did not like it now. The Steel had introduced hellfire into their artillery nearly one hundred years ago, and despite a century of trying, various enemies had failed to discover the secrets of its making. Now, things had changed.
“The Lenays made their attack in good order,” stated another officer. “Their losses are light. The Regent's forces have not mastered their new weapons-they are not such easy things to use.”
“The surest way for commanders to lose battles is for them to presume that they are the only ones on the field who know what they're doing.”
“You are Lead Commander,” General Geralin said sharply. “You are not in command of the detailed affairs of the Rhodaani Steel. They are mine to command, as I have risen from foot soldier to generalship across my thirty years of service, and I am certain I know them far better than you.”
“You are right,” said Kessligh, “you know your soldiers better than I. But I know something of your enemy, and his capability with that artillery, and I know that he will kill all of your soldiers if you let him.”
“Your broken formations will not contain a force of their number…” the general tried again.
“My broken formations will allow you to absorb punishment from their artillery for a considerable time instead of being destroyed as an effective fighting force within the first few salvos.”
“And I will not engage the enemy in a formation that does not allow my men to effectively close with and kill the enemy! Now good day, sir, I have a battle to fight!”
He and his officer wheeled and galloped to their formations, a few of the lower officers with misgiving looks at Kessligh as they went. Kessligh refrained from swearing.
He summoned a messenger. “Go to Sasha, tell her that if the Regent's artillery is employed in good order against the Rhodaani Steel, the Rhodaanis are about to get hammered. They're advancing with the old formation, not the new. Go!” The messenger left in a hurry.
Rhillian arrived on horseback and reined alongside. “What is that fucking idiot Geralin up to now?” she said succinctly. “Those look like the old formations.”
“I want their command party shadowed,” Kessligh said grimly. “If the general is killed, and pray that it comes soon, then Captain Aile should be in charge. Make certain that he is-I know he agrees with me.”
“You can't reorder formations in close contact and under artillery fire,” Rhillian replied. “Once they're in, it's too late.”
“No, but he will manage an orderly withdrawal before they're all dead.”
“I have an archer in my group,” said Rhillian, emerald eyes unblinking. “Some say that he is Errollyn's equal with a bow, though there is some dispute. Many chaotic things happen under artillery fire. No one will see everything.”
Kessligh exhaled hard. “I'd have relieved him of command, but the Rhodaani all follow him. If they catch you shooting their general off his horse, they may leave the battle. Better we take our chances. He may get lucky.”
The attacks now made those previous seem like mere skirmishes. The Ilduuri line was assaulted across its entire front, and well down the Dhemerhill Valley. The Regent's forces had followed the Army of Lenayin's retreat into the valley, keeping at first beyond Ilduuri artillery range. Then they had attacked along a valley front more than a thousand paces wide. There had not been enough artillery or archery to so much as slow their approach this time, and now as a sea of enemy soldiers swarmed up the hills like ants upon a carcass, Sasha's entire line was engaged hand-to-hand in furious action.