them, crumpled piles of bloodied corpses, killed to the last man in the certain knowledge that defeat was worse than death. Not fanaticism, no. Determination. Selflessness. Pride.
Suddenly she wanted to cry.
Seventeen
THE STEEL LINE WAS ACTUALLY BENDING. Andreyis was so tired he could barely lift his shield arm, but as he took his rest for an uncounted time, he could see beyond the press that this entire portion of the Enoran formation had bent back upon itself. About him, lay Enoran and Lenay bodies in equal numbers, many groaning or struggling to move. He did not know where Teriyan was, and could not see any Baerlyners, yet there were many faces that had become familiar on the march, or in the past morning’s fighting. These were his brothers now.
For the third time that morning, the Steel infantry formation began to lose its discipline, as tired Enorans struggled to move into line as the previous line fell back. Andreyis did not see how it happened, perhaps someone tripped, or several in the same place fell to Lenay blades, but suddenly the Valhanans were into their midst with a roar, forcing gaps between the shields, knocking men down with sheer bodily force to cause a cascade that rippled through the entire Enoran rank.
Isolated from their protection, Enorans formed small groups and fought furiously, attempting to fall back. Andreyis’s rear formation surged forward, trying to find a way in… He suddenly found a space and darted within, saw an outnumbered Enoran fighting with remarkable skill, felling one Lenay while blocking two more.
Andreyis came at him with an overhead, but the Enoran blocked it, then rammed the shield back into Andreyis, driving him back, then spinning to cut at another on his side. Two Enoran comrades came to help, and pulled him back into the regrouping formation behind. Andreyis tried to cut around their shields, but his aching arm lacked power, and an Enoran shield thrust knocked his own smaller shield aside, with the following short-sword thrust slicing through shoulder leather as he barely ducked away in time.
There were arrows falling now amongst the Enoran rear ranks, Torovan archers braving the artillery zone behind to fire into that armoured mass. It seemed to do little damage, but it kept the rear ranks holding their shields above their heads instead of resting, and the Enorans seemed as exhausted as the Lenays.
“Keep ’em moving back!” men were yelling. “Keep the pressure on, lads! Move ’em, move ’em!” Defeating an Enoran formation by killing a majority of its men hand to hand seemed unlikely, particularly now that exhaustion was setting in. But moving them backwards and out of position would breach the entire Enoran formation, and open spaces for the cavalry. From there, a collapse could occur relatively quickly. Lenay militia knew this for a fact, and motivated themselves and each other without a need for higher command.
Trumpets sounded above the whistles of rank change. Yells from the Enoran officers, unintelligible in that foreign tongue. Suddenly the entire Enoran line was falling back. Lenay men howled in triumph, and surged forward. Too exhausted to join in immediately, Andreyis managed only a walk. As he fell behind the front line, he noticed that the Enoran line to the left was not falling back evenly, but rather pivoting, as though on a hinge. He stared across to the right as Valhanans jostled past around him, and saw that on that side, the formation was doing the same.
“Wait!” he yelled. “Wait, it’s a trap!”
Ahead, though he could not see, the renewed sound of battle assured him that the sudden Lenay advance had stopped dead. The Enorans had moved up the reserve, he realised…and unlike the Army of Lenayin, with its Torovan reserve, the Enoran reserve would be every bit the quality of its front-line troops, only fresh and itching to fight. The Enoran general had spotted this part of his line about to break, and had shored it up.
And now, the line they had been facing had become the walls of a box, while the new reserve formed the floor. The Valhanans were in the middle, surrounded on three sides.
“Fall back!” Andreyis yelled, pushing forward so that the front ranks might hear. “Fall back, it’s a trap!” The roar of fighting resumed to either side, as the walls of the box began pressing in. Other Valhanans took up the cry, and as quickly as they’d advanced, the Lenays were soon fighting a fast retreat as the box’s steel walls began closing in around them. Unprepared men who had thought themselves in the rear, suddenly found themselves exposed and fighting on a flank, as the Enorans attacked with renewed vigour. In the confusion, the Lenays lost their spacing, became crushed together, and abruptly the advantage swung back to the Enorans, whose short blades and lightning stabs were far more suited to the cramped quarters. Lenays pressed against that Enoran line fell, unable to defend from two or three possible threats at once, unable to see the blow coming behind its shield, and without the space in which to perform a proper parry in the Lenay style.
Andreyis ran back with the retreat as the Enoran reserve built up momentum, moving at a powerful jog, trampling any who fell underfoot. The sudden crush of men was alarming, and he held his blade aloft as he ran so as not to accidentally cut anyone.
The Enorans did not stop their advance, as the entire line began to regain the ground it had lost. Andreyis stepped back over the bodies of men left behind, now smothered once more by the shifting tide of battle. Lenays fought furiously to halt the retreat, but footing was hard to attain while moving backwards over bodies.
Above the deafening confusion, Andreyis heard warning yells, and the thunder of approaching cavalry. It was coming from the Lenay right flank, hurtling across the devastated artillery zone. Some galloping horsemen on the far side of the onrushing group were clearly Lenay, and Andreyis felt a huge relief…until he realised that they were a minority, and were in fact chasing the others, and trying to cut them from their saddles.
The majority of the oncoming riders, in scattered wheeling groups, were serrin. There had to be at least a thousand of them. And they were firing into the infantry’s backs as fast as they could reload.
Lenay men were falling as the racing
Bodies tumbled, and continued to tumble, as passing serrin riders lifted their aim above those closest them. Andreyis risked a glimpse back toward the Enorans, and saw Lenay men struck squarely between the shoulder blades, one moment yelling in support or preparing to swing a weapon at Enoran infantry, the next clutching the air and falling, pierced through chain mail and leathers by the terrible power of serrin longbows.
The serrin seemed to take forever to pass, those nearest them like Andreyis not daring to lower their shields, while those closer to the Enorans dared not turn their backs on the oncoming Steel. Many Lenays stood to protect the backs of those men with their shields, but Lenay shields were smaller, and many fell with shafts through their legs instead.
Then it seemed the serrin procession was splitting, and Andreyis saw their train mixed with many Lenay and Torovan riders who tried to kill them as the serrin evaded, and continued to find targets. Some horses came racing near, dodging wildly with Lenay riders in pursuit. Andreyis saw serrin tucking their bows into canvas bags behind their leg, drawing swords and charging through the closer Lenay infantry, as much to distract the riders chasing as to cause damage. With shields drawn, and bewildered still from the ferocity of the archery, Lenay men scattered before the onrushing horses.
A man darted from Andreyis’s side to swing at a passing serrin, only for the serrin’s razored blade to sever his sword arm midlength. Another took an arrow through the middle, and stumbled into the path of galloping horses. Andreyis ran at him, intent on dragging him away from their path, but he’d barely begun to move when a horse changed direction to come straight at him. The last things Andreyis saw were fast, galloping hooves and a swinging silver blade.
Sasha had barely rested from her assault on the Enoran artillery when the serrin began pouring across the fields. Where they’d come from she did not know, nor how so many had managed to slip past as many Lenay and Torovan horsemen as comprised the army’s right flank. But come they did, at hurtling speed, a swirling, deadly mass with no respect for formation or self-preservation.
She turned her exhausted horse about and charged at them, her men doing the same, as others tore into the serrin mass’s flanks. The serrin kept riding, weaving back and forth, criss-crossing paths with Lenay cavalry to keep them at bay. Sasha held her left-arm shield across her body to guard her right, where most of the serrin were
