VII
'What? Withdraw?' Anasind was horrified by the idea. 'But we're winning. The Salphors will hound us back to the river if we let them.'
'Which is why when they come after us you'll sound the counter-charge,' said the king.
Anasind looked uncertain.
'Pulling back from engagement is not easy,' he said. 'We'll lose a lot of men if we time this wrong.'
'We'll lose a fucking lot more if that line breaks,' snapped Ullsaard, jabbing his spear towards the battle on the other side of the river. 'You have your orders.'
'Yes, king,' said Anasind, bowing his head. He signalled for the handful of trumpeters to approach.
Ullsaard turned away and stared over the water, willing Donar and the others to keep fighting. The arc of the legions was contracting slowly, each fresh Salphorian attack pushing back part of the line as other companies retreated to keep the formation coherent. From this distance it was clear to see that the Salphors were concentrating their attack to dawnwards, at the end of the line not guarded by the river. Like a rod slowly bending under a smith's hammer blows, the legions were being forced into an ever tighter space, the far end of the line curling back towards the river.
Trumpet blasts split the air as the retreat was sounded. The signal was repeated three times, until all of the Thirteenth were falling back, still facing their enemies. For a while, the Salphors were taken aback by the move and a gap of a hundred paces or more opened between the lines. Faster and faster, the legion contracted, stepping back over the bodies of their own dead. Ragged volleys of arrows followed them, cutting holes in the tight ranks. Messengers and captains hurried to meet the retreating companies, bearing news of the plan to counter- attack.
'They'll be shot to pieces,' said Anasind. 'I'll have to sound the attack now.'
'Wait!' said Ullsaard as the general lifted his arm to the musicians. 'Just a little longer.'
Anasind lowered his arm slowly and returned to his king's side. The shouts and yells of both sides could be heard, carried by the strengthening wind. Ullsaard glanced across the river. The Askhan line was still holding, though it was perilously close to breaking in places.
The noise of the Salphors recommencing their attack rumbled over the other sounds. Anasind again moved to raise his arm, but Ullsaard grabbed his wrist.
'Not yet,' he said quietly. 'We need to make sure the Salphors are fully committed.'
'A legion doesn't change direction in a heartbeat,' replied Anasind. 'Too late, and they'll be caught anyway. We need to…' His objection trailed away as Ullsaard fixed him with a stare.
'In a moment,' said the king. 'This has one chance to work, let's not waste it.'
Anasind fidgeted, arm still gripped by Ullsaard. In his head, the king was picturing the scene, obscured by the line of the legion. The Salphors had been no more than a hundred and fifty paces away. Allowing for the speed of their attack and the pace of the retreat, subtracting a little for the order to be enacted…
'Now,' he said, letting go of Anasind.
'Sound the attack!' the general bellowed, raising and dropping his arm quickly.
The trumpets blared out. The Askhan companies came to a hesitant stop. As the signal rang again, they surged forward, meeting the Salphors head-on with a wall of bronze, a throaty roar drifting down to the river.
The line broke as some companies surged into the enemy while others met stiffer resistance. The soldiers closest to the river, where the freshest companies were found, swung inwards, sweeping away the Salphors in front of them. On the far right, the line was at a virtual standstill, while the centre advanced in determined fashion, the ring of weapons mingling with more screams and cries.
It seemed to take an age to Ullsaard, though in reality perhaps less than a quarter of an hour passed as the Askhan attack gained momentum. Having thought they were on the brink of victory, the courage of the Salphors crumbled quickly under the renewed assault, and they streamed away from the river in their dozens, leaving those fighting to their fate.
With open country behind and determined foes in front, the Salphor retreat spread into a rout. Here and there knots of Salphors fought on, their chieftains too brave, too stupid, or too trapped to run away. Some of the Askhans were pressing after the fleeing foe, and there was a danger of an ill-disciplined chase.
'Sound the recall,' Anasind shouted to the musicians, just as the order was reaching Ullsaard's lips.
On the third sounding of the order, the pursuit was halted. Company by company, the Thirteenth came back in line and marched back to the river. A few companies detached as a rear guard, covering the withdrawal against a possible — though unlikely — resurgence from the fleeing Salphors.
Ullsaard looked at the legion, noticing that many of the companies had suffered heavy casualties. Those that had been fighting from the onset were at half strength or worse. It was with weary eyes and tired limbs that the legionnaires reformed on the general and king.
VIII
Ullsaard called for Blackfang and mounted. Spear in hand, he rode along the line.
'Congratulations on winning the warm-up!' he shouted to his men. He pointed over the river with his spear. 'The real battle's over there. You're tired. Many of you are hurt. It would be easy to stop now. I can't let you do that. You're the Thirteenth. You're my Thirteenth, and that means you don't stand around while others do the fighting.'
Ullsaard turned Blackfang around and rode back in the other direction.
'The Fifth and the Seventh are over there, trying to make a good show of things,' he continued. 'Looks like they're outnumbered by two-to-one at least. They're Askhans, so they're going to win anyway. But people will wonder what the Thirteenth were doing while the Fifth and Seventh earned such glory. Do the Thirteenth want to be known as the legion that were spectators at Askh's great victory?'
'No!' The shouted reply was a bit ragged. Taking a breath, Ullsaard pitched his voice even louder.
'Are the Thirteenth going to be remembered as the legion that won two battles in a single day?'
'Yes!' came the cry, stronger than before.
'Which legion is going to kill these annoying Salphorian bitchfuckers for me and march me to Carantathi?
'Thirteen!' The cheer was accompanied by the crashing of spears on shields and the stamping of feet.
With a shout, Ullsaard urged Blackfang into a run and headed like an arrow for the river. Excited by the blood and mayhem, she plunged into the water without hesitation as the Thirteenth quickly filed after at a trot, forming column company by company.
Ullsaard did not look back as Blackfang splashed over the ford. His eyes were fixed on the battle ahead. It would be easy to join the line where it was closest to the river, but the companies fighting there seemed to be doing well against relatively light opposition. The real danger lay at the far flank, where the Salphors were threatening to overlap or break through at any time. All of the reserves from the Fifth and Seventh had been committed, and still the Salphors were pushing them back.
Angling Blackfang for the further extent of the Askhan line, Ullsaard slowed her to a fast walk. Behind him, the Thirteenth followed at a swift march, hidden from the enemy by the fighting. Looking over his shoulder, Ullsaard checked the far side of the river and was reassured to see that the Salphors had all but disappeared. That problem had been solved for good.
When he was a few hundred yards from the fighting, he urged Blackfang on again. He waved his spear forwards and grinned as behind him the trumpets of the Thirteenth signalled the attack. It had been a long while since he had fought from Black fang's back, but he felt he owed it to the ailur after neglecting her for so long.
A gap opened up between two companies ahead and, reins in his shield hand, Ullsaard directed her into the opening, spear at the ready.
'Get ready, my beauty,' he said to Blackfang, bracing himself as they hurtled towards a group of Salphors.
Just a dozen paces from the enemy, Ullsaard used the rim of his shield to knock loose the catch on the ailur's blinker-chamfron. The spring-loaded plates over her eyes snapped open, and Blackfang looked upon her prey for the
