“Use the Guard as a spearhead, form a wedge and push through?” suggested Tekoa.
“They’re matching the Guard with their Hermit Crabs and they’re bloody good. And I’m sure they’ve got cavalry, Tekoa. Bellamus will be holding them as a counter-punch in case we break through. That’s why we must hold the line.”
Tekoa raised his eyebrows and seemed about to speak again when one of the Skiritai horns sounded through the haze. “That’s the retreat,” he said. “Round three.”
Roper took a deep breath. The lives of the men around him weighed heavily on his shoulders and he did not know what to do. Bellamus had chosen his soldiers well so that they matched the Anakim for quality and he had an ace: his cavalry, which he must use at some point. Visibility was so low, Roper could have no idea where they were stationed. He might not find out until it was too late.
The knights were advancing rapidly through the haze towards them now. Uvoren, Pryce and Gray all still strode in front of the Sacred Guard, disdaining the proximity of the enemy and pumping their arms to raise cheers that fell in crashing waves upon the field. Both the Sutherners and the legions were dull with mud as the knights splashed towards them. The legionaries jerked into life, staggering upright and finding swords. Nobody bothered with the bows any more; they barely had time to form ranks before the order to charge blurted through the ranks. The lines clashed once more, not aggressive but numbly inexorable. They thudded together, bounced apart, and then began their exhausting work. The Hermit Crabs were arrayed against the Guard again, and now the hail had lifted enough for Roper to be able to see, along the line, the pikemen who fought the Greyhazel. The twenty-foot ash pikes created an impenetrable thicket when approached from the front, but from the side the formation was hopelessly vulnerable. On this battlefield, however, all sides were protected and would remain so until they could dismantle the Suthern line.
Or perhaps not. Roper squinted at where the Hermit Crabs and the pikemen joined, and saw that a gap appeared to be developing there. It was twenty yards across and growing wider as the natural rhythm of thrusting a pike right-handed shuffled the formation slowly to the left. Perhaps the casualties that the Sutherners were taking had shortened their line, thus creating the gap. Or, Roper thought, more likely this gap was of Bellamus’s creation and the cavalry was waiting to destroy any unit that went through.
“You’ve seen the gap?” pressed Tekoa.
“It’s bait. We hold the line,” said Roper.
Tekoa glanced at him. “You fear the cavalry?”
“Yes I do.”
“Your instincts are good,” said Tekoa dubiously.
Uvoren was running towards them. Marrow-Hunter was held low by his side and he was gesturing furiously at the developing gap, which was now forty yards across. “Send the reserves through!” he demanded. “Get Skallagrim, tell him we can break them here!”
“It’s bait!” shouted Roper. “I’m certain they have cavalry.”
“So? They’ll be miles away! It’s shuffling left, that’s what pikelines do!”
“I know, Bellamus; I understand that man and this is no mistake. Return to combat, Captain.”
Uvoren opened his mouth and screamed incoherently. His face filled with colour and he quaked as he released sheer rage in Roper’s direction. He turned away and sprinted instead for the edge of the Greyhazel.
“He’s going to get Tore to advance his soldiers,” said Tekoa. “Tore will do whatever he says.”
“Stop him!” commanded Roper, and Tekoa spurred after the captain. Roper turned to an aide. “Tell Skallagrim to bring his men here at once! We’re going to need them.” The aide tore away and Roper turned back to see that Uvoren had found Tore. The two were talking animatedly, Uvoren gesturing at the gap.
As Roper watched, Tekoa cantered up to the pair of them. He was clearly shouting and pointed Uvoren back towards the Sacred Guard. Uvoren shouted back briefly and then, quite suddenly, he seized Tekoa’s leg and dragged him from the saddle. Tekoa crashed into the mud, causing Roper to utter a single swear word. He spurred Zephyr forward just as Tekoa rose to his feet, a sword flashing in his hand. Roper swore again as Tekoa raised the blade high and hacked at Uvoren. He was an exceptional legate and a brilliant soldier, but as a warrior, Tekoa Urielson was not in the same league as Uvoren. The Captain of the Guard deflected Tekoa’s blade easily and rammed a gauntleted fist into his face, stunning Tekoa enough to wrest his sword from his grip and hurl it away. Uvoren punched again, knocking Tekoa flat. Tore pulled his horse away, signalling to the trumpeter who sounded the advance.
The Greyhazel began to move. A large section of their ranks, which had been facing the growing vacancy in the Suthern line, was unoccupied and began to advance. They evidently intended to charge through the gap and then turn on the pikemen, exposed from behind and the flank. Roper knew that right here, in this place and moment, the battle and possibly the Black Kingdom hung in the balance. Uvoren was wrong, and Roper knew that there would be horsemen waiting just out of sight. Somewhere, Bellamus’s watchful eyes would be waiting for them to take his bait. Any forces that went through that Suthern line would be obliterated and, once the Anakim line had broken, the vengeful Suthern cavalry would be free to sweep in behind the legions and rampage there. That would be the battle. It had to be the battle. Tens of thousands of legionaries would die under his command.
It was too late to stop the Greyhazel advancing, but Roper galloped towards Uvoren, Helmec as ever by his side. He drew up beside the Captain of the Guard, who was watching the Greyhazel legionaries pour through the gap but glanced up as Roper approached. “Go to hell, you little shit,” he advised. “I’ll be damned if you’re
