“Here we are,” said Arendelle, pointing across the river. “The cavalry musters.” The Elissians had been holding back their cavalry, presumably to keep Zulmaher guessing, but there had been little doubt as to Arendt’s intentions. The best Elissian cavalry was heavy, and Rhillian’s guess was that a quarter of these cavalry were knights. Downslope, headlong into the centre of the Rhodaani formation, they could break even a line of the Steel. Flanking would serve no purpose, for the talmaad worked on the flanks, on faster horses mounted with serrin archers, who did unfair, unchivalrous things like shooting unarmoured horses from under the knights’ steel backsides.
Now, as Rhillian watched, cavalry were pouring down the hillside between formations of footsoldiers. Before the front ranks, they were forming.
“Signalman,” Rhillian called, “if you please. Call to our talmaad to prepare.”
The trumpeter was a tall, skinny Rhodaani boy, lent to her for the occasion by General Zulmaher. The boy raised his long horn, and blew a clear, high melody.
“That’s very pretty,” Aisha remarked, steadying her anxious mount with one hand, her bow in the other.
“Thank you, M’Lady,” said the nervous young man. He seemed far more nervous of serrin women than men, Rhillian thought. Well, perhaps she should have forbade Eli and Sairen from trying to get him drunk and bedded last night. To the best of her knowledge, the lad had not succumbed. Which was still a pity, she thought now, watching the army advance toward the river. It would not do for any man or woman to die a virgin, and this lad certainly looked it.
From the rear of the Rhodaani formation, Rhillian could see her talmaad now galloping in two groups, three hundred to each flank. Arendt would see that, and have his conviction to go through the centre reinforced. Rhillian wondered if he would also note the artillery line moving up behind the infantry, and grasp its significance. Most feudal commanders rarely did. The great crossbow arms of two-stack ballistas bounced as the carts upon which they rode trundled forward, pulled by horse or oxen.
Of the nine thousand assembled men, fully a thousand were artillerymen. Each of the infantry formations was backed by fifteen cart-mounted ballista, and five catapults-for forty-five ballista and fifteen catapults in all. Usually, in forces equipped with such weapons, the artillery remained behind with the command and reserve. Here, the artillery advanced, while the thousand-strong reserve, of eight hundred foot and two hundred cavalry, remained behind. It was a great risk if the battle turned against the Steel. But General Zulmaher did not expect to lose.
The right-flank formation reached the river a little before the centre and left, and waded in past the broken screen of trees. Serrin riders had already tested its depth, braving occasional arrowfire to gallop through the waters, returning to assure all that at its deepest, it would be barely above a soldier’s waist. Before the front rank of Elissian infantry, the cavalry line appeared to be nearing completion.
“How many cavalry, do you think?” Rhillian asked Arendelle. There were ten of them here, atop the shallow hill, all serrin save for the signalman. Enough to guard against sneaking scouts and outriders who sought to flank them, and ambush in the rear.
“I think about four thousand,” said Arendelle, staring hard across the battlefield. “One thousand knights.”
Another trumpet call from the artillery line, which ceased its advance. Rhillian saw rounds being moved to the catapults from amongst piles of wet blankets. Small fires were lit, men swarming to prepare their enormous contraptions.
“They’re in range,” said Tessi with certainty, measuring the distance with her eyes. “How unbelievably stupid of them.”
“Let’s go,” said Rhillian, and galloped down the slope, her talmaad in pursuit. She was nearly at eye level with the artillery when the first catapults fired. With a great, unwinding rush, they hurled flaming balls into the sky. For a moment, the air filled with streaking, burning projectiles. Already the catapult men were rearming, winding furiously at the handles that wound metal-toothed gears, pulling back the giant arms thrice as fast as conventional rope winches.
Ahead, flames erupted across the Elissian cavalry line with a horrid orange and blue glare… Rhillian winced as she rode, to shield her sensitive eyes. Then the noise reached her above the thunder of horses’ hooves-the whump! of successive bursts of flame, and the screams and cries of a thousand men and horses, who had not realised themselves within range of the Steel’s most feared weapon. Conventional artillery was hard to aim. How the Steel artillerymen could achieve such accuracy on wheels was beyond even her.
Now the ballista were firing, forty-five at once and each one a double-stack, the cartsmen not even bothering to halt their advance. Ninety bolts shot skyward, and mechanisms were immediately winched back, even faster than the catapults.
Rhillian arrived at the head of her three hundred right flank cavalry, just short of the riverbank, and stopped. From here, through breaks in the trees, she could see the confusion of the Elissian forward line-horses milling and rearing, senior men waving swords and flags, trying to rearrange the formation. Smoke hung in the air in great palls, and sections of grass still burned.
The Rhodaani infantry line had now stopped, midstream. They simply stood in waist deep water, and watched. More horses fell, randomly, to streaking ballista bolts. Cavalrymen held shields above their heads, and hoped, waiting for their seniors to sort out the confusion and give the order to charge. Surely they still had some time left before the next fiery volley, as catapults took time to reload.
A new series of thuds and whistles overhead put the lie to that. Cavalrymen saw it coming, and screamed in panic. Whole sections of formation broke, hundreds of horses scattering. Some rode straight into an eruption of flame, and were engulfed. Rhillian closed her eyes to save her vision. When she opened them again, she saw scenes of utter horror, men and horses engulfed twenty and thirty at a time, rolling and running, screaming and falling. Ballista fire whistled continuously, felling animals and riders with steady, random rhythm.
Finally the trumpets blew, others taking up the cry. Broken sections of cavalry came galloping downslope, and others joined them, as much in hope of escaping the murderous artillery as attacking the midstream Rhodaanis. More trumpets blew, this time from behind, and with a thunder of their own, a thousand Rhodaani cavalry charged for the river, and the gaps between their infantry’s formations.
Rhillian held her horse in check, watching the mass of mounted Rhodaanis plunging through the frothing waters. They were not so heavily armoured as Elissian knights, wearing segmented armour like the infantry, yet their shields and lances, and huge warhorses, made them imposing enough. They cleared the far bank, and aimed for the gaping holes the artillery had torn through the Elissian cavalry’s ranks. The Elissian charge split, some falling back in swirling confusion upon the Rhodaani cavalry, others charging on toward the river.
Rhillian tore her sword clear, raised it, then swiped at the air. She needed no trumpeter, and the serrin gave no yell as they charged, crashing into the waters in a churn of white spray. Ahead, beyond the confusion of cavalry, new bursts of fire were blooming further upslope. The artillery had turned their attention upon the Elissian footsoldiers…and Verenthane gods help them.
Her talmaad rounded the Rhodaani right flank, and emerged from the waters to find what heavy cavalry had made it this far, plunging into the river to attack the Steel infantry. The water slowed their horses in leaping, splashing bounds, and took the weight off their charge. The Steel held firm, behind solid walls of shields, and returned with sword thrusts and thrown spears from within the protective formation squares.