survive to have lunch!'
Laughs and cheers came back in reply. Ullsaard bellowed for an orderly and dismounted.
'Think I'll fight with you lot today,' he told the men of the first company. He pulled his spear and shield from the ailur's back. 'I think you need the help.'
This statement was met with good-natured jeers as a youth took the reins from the king and led Blackfang away. Ullsaard took up his place in the front rank, next to the icon. He glanced at the captain holding the standard.
'What's your name, captain?' said Ullsaard. 'What happened to Venuid?'
'I'm Kassil, king,' said the man. 'Promoted from seventh company. Venuid got shot in the eye by a Salphor.'
'That's a shame,' said the king.
'Yes, bad luck for him,' said Kassil.
'Good luck for you,' said Ullsaard.
'Dead man's sandals, isn't it? It's the legion way.'
'Works for kings too,' said Ullsaard, bringing up his shield.
In the glow of the rising sun, the Salphors were only a couple of hundred paces away. Several hundred moved ahead of the mass, bows in hand. The warning was shouted along the line and the phalanx shifted, raising their shields for the coming volleys. Ullsaard peered through a gap and saw the first cloud of arrows lifting into the air. The king ducked back his head. A few tense heartbeats passed and then the arrows fell, bronze heads rattling against shields like heavy hail. Here and there came a cry of pain, but the line held firm.
IV
There were a lot more than a few thousand Salphors pouring out of the woods into the early morning light. Donar sent a messenger running for First Captain Naathin of the Seventh, while he continued to watch the dark patch of men spreading from the forest.
The Salphors advanced with purpose though not precision. Their tribal groups were gathered about cloth standards in clumps of warriors rather than proper lines. With them came small chariots pulled by large wolf-like beasts with spiked bronze collars and coats of mail armour, two warriors in the back of each waving spears and javelins as they trundled past their foot-bound comrades.
They kept coming, horn blares signalling the arrival of three more tribes from duskwards. Donar guessed there were at least fifteen thousand of the barbarians, almost twice his own command. The general glanced toward the river, but was unable to see much at all past the glitter of the dawn light on the water. He could hear shouts and see clouds of arrows, but had not yet heard the clash of spear or sword on shield. The battle there was only just beginning.
He could not expect help from the king any time soon.
'What's the plan?'
Donar turned at Naathin's voice. The Seventh's commander was of a similar age to Donar, his skin less weatherworn, thin strands of blonde hair trailing from under his helmet. Naathin was a stocky man with a bit of a gut, but his arms were as thick as many men's legs and his chest bulged under his breastplate. Donar was surprised to see that he was smiling.
'What are you so happy about?' demanded Donar, jabbing a finger toward the Salphorian army. 'Do you like unexpected visitors first thing?'
'Better to fight in the morning, it's going to get hot later,' replied the First Captain. Naathin's expression turned solemn as he saw the extent of the enemy force. 'Oh. I wasn't expecting that many guests.'
'Let's thin out their numbers, perhaps then they'll think twice about spoiling our breakfast arrangements.' Donar swept his hand from one end of the Salphaorian army to the other. 'Form crescent line, left flank anchored to the river, right flank over by that bluff to dawnwards.'
'Do you want the river or the bluff?' asked Naathin.
'Not fussed,' replied Donar. 'We'll combine our engines between the two legions and form a screen in front with a few companies. That'll stop the Salphors trying to press into the divide.'
The jingling of armour and shouts of the second captains increased in volume as the legionnaires were brought to line around the two First Captains. A gaggle of messengers was gathering behind the pair, waiting for orders. Donar acknowledged them with a raised hand and looked at his companion.
'I'll take the bluff, if it's all the same to you,' said Naathin. He looked down toward the river and patted his armoured belly. 'Less of a walk, you see?'
Donar couldn't stop a laugh.
'If you're worried about getting out of breath, perhaps you should retire with the baggage? I think we're both going to get plenty of exercise today.'
'Like I said, morning fights are better. Means I'm not tired before we start. General orders to hold?'
'Yes, just keep the line strong, let the spear throwers and catapults goad them onto our spears. Put four companies in reserve behind your front, ready to plug any gaps.'
'And you should put your veterans next to mine at the centre to protect the machines,' said Naathin, looking around as he examined the ground. 'I think we should fall back about a hundred and fifty paces though, the ground levels out more.'
'Good point,' said Donar with a glance over his shoulder. He shrugged. 'Anything we haven't thought of?'
'Probably,' replied Naathin. 'Let's just make sure we hold them off until the king is done with that bunch over there.'
'Pass the word!' Donar called out to the waiting captains. 'No retreat! Fight to the last man!'
It was an indication of the legionnaires' mood, and general humour, that this announcement was greeted by a resounding cheer all around the two First Captains.
The air was still chill when the Salphors first sallied forth. They had evidently decided the war machines were the easiest foe to overcome and bunched together at the centre, coming on quickly with shouts and waving axes and spears.
Four salvoes of devastating spears and boulders was enough to dissuade them of this notion before they had crossed half the distance. The defiant shouts were soon quieted and the Salphor chieftains urged their men to withdraw, all swagger gone. Donar saw a huddle of garishly dressed nobles in gilded armour gather about the largest banner for some time. They evidently decided that a full attack would be too costly. Instead, the tribes broke apart, bringing out their bows and arrows.
Naathis and Donar called out the order to prepare for the archery attack. With only their machines to hide behind, the engine crews were vulnerable. The central companies were tasked with closing about the machines, forming solid ranks in front while they reloaded, parting to enable them to loose their deadly fire.
Undaunted by this manoeuvre, the Salphors continued to target the engines with their arrows, and from amongst the gaggles of warriors came forward their next ploy.
The Salphor chariots raced back and forth along the line, the riders casting dozens of javelins into the Askhan companies while the warriors laughed and jeered from further away. With remarkable bravery and dexterity, the two-man teams would take it in turns to climb upon the yoke of the moving chariots to throw their weapons while the other steered. Though the additional height was not great, this tactic meant the showers of javelins came in from a steeper angle than usual, forcing the Akshans to form up into their shield walls. The lupus snarled and yowled, eager to hunt, but the Salphor charioteers were too clever to allow themselves to be drawn into a fight with the closed ranks of their foes.
The slap and thud of the war engines was near constant, a barrage of spears and rocks hurtling into the Salphor tribes. At first they tried to hit the harassing chariots, but their targets were too small and nimble to hit at the close range, so Donar passed the order to concentrate on thinning out the enemy numbers.
The Salphors had responded by breaking apart, widening the gaps between their men to present fewer opportunies. Despite this, several hundred of them had fallen to the war machine onslaught.
Donar fidgeted with a loose scrap of leather from his sword's binding, but refused to look toward the river.
