Stuck in Magic 18
Previous chapters – https://authornuttall.com/viewtopic.php?f=6&t=8
Chapter Eighteen
“I won’t waste your time with pretty speeches,” I said, once the soldiers had been roused from their beds and mustered onto the training ground. I could recite Henry V’s famous speech – or at least the one Shakespeare put in his mouth – from memory, but I doubted they were ready to appreciate it. “We are going to war.”
I pushed on before the muttering got too loud. “We have trained for this day. We know what we can do – and they don’t. They think they can just push us over. They are going to ride straight into a brick wall and get smashed.”
The troops looked slightly more confident. Only slightly. I grimaced inwardly. A few weeks of training had hammered some discipline into them, but they were hardly combat-ready by army standards. I’d cut so many corners that, if I’d done it back home, my court-martial would be the shortest formality on record. I wished, again, for more experienced soldiers or even mercenaries, men who could provide stiffening to newbies stepping onto the battlefield for the first time. The troops looked so ragged I was sure the warlords were laughing at them. I hoped so. It would keep the bastards overconfident long enough for me to give them a nasty surprise.
“Follow me,” I ordered. I’d considered finding a horse for myself, but it would send entirely the wrong message. If they thought I had a way out, they’d assume I was planning to desert them. I would stand and fall with my men. “Forward march!”
I turned and marched through the gates, onto the road. The soldiers followed me. I was sure some of them had their doubts, some of them wanted to turn and run, but their comrades would kill them. I’d done everything in my power to build a sense of camaraderie amongst the men, an awareness we were all in it together. I hoped it would last long enough for us to meet the enemy on even – or superior – terms. Nothing succeeded quite like success. I allowed the sergeants to take the lead as I walked up and down the line, checking the troops and offering words of encouragement when necessary. They were about to see the elephant for the very first time.
A thrill shot through me, despite the grim certainty I wouldn’t last the day if my men broke. I loved going to war. I loved the thrill of testing myself, and my men, against the best the enemy could offer. And I loved teaching bullies they weren’t the biggest baddest bastards on the planet. The warlords were no different to the terrorists and insurgents back home. They were tough and fearsome, as long as they didn’t run into someone tougher and more fearsome than themselves. I had no doubt that, if we managed to give the warlord’s troops a bloody nose, he’d fold faster than a poker player with a very poor hand.
The air tasted faintly of sand as we marched towards Pennell. It was smaller than I recalled, the kind of place that could easily be bypassed or smashed in a modern war. The townspeople were hastily evacuating, packing up their worldly goods – such as they were – and making their way towards the city. I couldn’t help noticing the girls and women were staying well clear of my men. I understood, better than I cared to admit. I’d told the troops there would be draconic penalties for rape, and I meant it, but it was unlikely the commoners believed me. What warlord would punish the men he depended upon to maintain his power?
I snapped out orders as we took possession of the town, detailing a handful of men to take up positions further down the road and setting the remainder to digging trenches and checking the houses for unpleasant surprises. There was no sign of Rupert, or Harbin and his men. It was almost a relief, although I knew I needed the cavalry to scout and bring warning of advancing trouble. The enemy might easily decide to approach the city from an entirely different direction.
You’re thinking like a practical military officer, I told myself. Try thinking like a bullying asshole instead.
I smirked at the thought, then resumed my walk through the town as the sun steadily rose overhead. The air grew warmer, my men muttering curses to themselves as they dug trenches right across the road – there were going to be complaints about that, I was sure – and checked and rechecked their weapons. I made mental notes of the way out of the town, allowing me to steer men back to safety if something really did go wrong. I wasn’t too proud to back off if it was clear I was losing. I was just all too aware that a retreat would rapidly become a rout.
Seles stood by the side of a slightly-bigger house and watched me. I kept a wary eye on him too. I knew better than to trust reporters, even reporters who couldn’t provide helpful real-time data to the bastards trying to kill me. He wanted a scoop … I laid plans for the aftermath, then put them aside. I had to win the battle before I declared myself the winner. I’d known too many officers who forgot the importance of winning and wound up putting their men through hell, because the enemy didn’t think they’d been beaten.
The sound of hooves echoed through the air. I turned, just in time to see Rupert and Harbin galloping into Pennell. Rupert looked pale, Harbin looked unhelpfully confident. I could see a handful of his men, holding position between Pennell and Damansara. I gritted my teeth as I marched over to Rupert and saluted. The cavalry wouldn’t be much good on the wrong side of the town. I needed them scouting the approaches for incoming threats.
“You’ve dug up the road,” Harbin protested. I bit down the urge to make a snide remark about people who pointed out the obvious. “That’s … fix it! Now!”
“We’ll fill in the holes after the battle,” I assured him. It wasn’t as if we’d dug up the interstate between New York and Washington. The road was nowhere near as good as a simple roman road, barely superior to the tracks I’d seen in Afghanistan. I had the feeling the locals didn’t care enough to keep it maintained, probably seeing it as a decidedly mixed blessing. It would bring them guests and trade, but it would also being taxmen and raiders. “Right now, we have more important concerns. Are your men watching the roads?”
Harbin puffed up with self-importance. “I have ten men on patrol, and I’m keeping the remaining fifty troopers in reserve. We’ll hit the enemy in the rear if they retreat.”
A smashing frontal attack on the enemy rear, I thought, sourly. Did you ever hear the joke about the deserter who ran the wrong way and got the Medal of Honour?
It was hard to keep my disdain off my face. Harbin and his men looked like … peacocks, standing out a mile against the drab town and surrounding landscape. A pair of trained snipers would slaughter them. I hoped they’d have the sense to stay back until the enemy started to run, then refrain from chasing the retreating men too far. It was quite easy to turn a victory into a defeat by overplaying one’s hand.
But if Harbin himself gets killed in the process, I told myself, we might be worth it.
Rupert looked pale. “What should I do?”
I swallowed a suggestion he should take his horse back to the city and hide until the fighting was over. “Stay with me,” I said. “I’ll show you what we’re doing.”
Seles joined us as we walked around the town. I pointed out the defence lines – fragile by my standards, rock-solid by theirs – and how my men would conduct the fight. I explained my thinking, hoping Rupert was smart enough to understand or – at least – let me command the battle without interference. God alone knew what would happen, if he started issuing orders in the middle of a fight. It would certainly cause a great deal of confusion at the worst possible time.
“They’re coming,” someone shouted. “They’re coming!”
I led Rupert and Seles to the first trench, silently giving the reporter credit for not turning and running for his life. A man on horseback, wearing Harbin’s colours, was galloping towards us. I snapped orders, reminding the troops the newcomer was on our side. The antagonism between soldiers and marines, back home, was nothing compared to the naked hatred between the infantry and the cavalry here. I was glad my men hadn’t spent most of their lives in the military. Given time, I could convince them the horsemen weren’t bad guys. But given they were aristos …
The horseman nearly crashed into the trench, before pulling on the reins and practically skidding to a stop. I heard titters from within the lines. I glared them into silence, then clambered out of the trench as the rider dropped to the ground and saluted. Rupert stepped up beside me.
“Report,” he said.
“The enemy force is on the move,” the rider said. “They’ll be here within twenty minutes.”
“Details?” I leaned forward. “How many men?”
The rider looked blank. I gritted my teeth to keep from clobbering him – I needed details, damn it – and snapped out a handful of questions. Infantry? Cavalry? Was it just a raiding party or was it something bigger? The rider glowered at me, his hand twitching as if he intended to lift his riding crop and strike me, but Rupert’s presence forced him to try to answer. It wasn’t as helpful as I’d hoped. An unknown number of horsemen, backed up by a unknown number of infantry, were closing on our position. I told myself, firmly, that the rider had managed to tell me one useful thing. The enemy were on their way.
“Take up position at the far edge of the town,” I ordered. “When I give the signal, alert the cavalry to go on the offensive.”
Rupert nodded, curtly. The rider remounted and galloped away, leaping over the trenches and cantering through the empty town. I made a mental note to look into caltrops. They would make life interesting, if not impossible, for mounted men. Rupert shuddered beside me, clearly scared and trying to hide it. I reminded myself that he was young and ignorant and lacked even a basic military education, before being tapped for command. A cadet who’d been booted out of West Point would be far better, at least on paper, to hold the post.
“We’ll be fine,” I promised, quietly. The air shifted again. “As long as we don’t panic, we’ll be fine.”
The seconds ticked away. I kept moving between trenches, speaking to my men. They were ready, as ready as they’d ever be. I found myself hoping the enemy would show up before my men started to lose their edge, before the waiting ground them down. Sweat prickled down my back as the sun rose higher – I glanced back to see the cavalry sitting on the ground, looking as though they were having a picnic. I ground my teeth in frustration. Harbin couldn’t have been more dismissive if he’d tried. I had no doubt he intended to take his men back to the city, if we lost the fight, and claim it was all Rupert’s fault. Bastard.
“Here they come,” someone shouted.
I breathed a sigh of relief as the enemy troops came into view, then put my telescope to my eye and studied them. They looked like something right out of the SCA, horses and men draped in truly absurd liveries, although there was something faded about them that added a degree of authenticity one rarely saw in re-enactment events. I counted around fifty men on horseback, backed up by thirty or so infantry. The latter carried bows slung over their shoulders – I guessed they were primarily archers, rather than groundpounders. Their coordination was rubbish. Despite the relatively small scale of the battlefield, the cavalry were dangerously ahead of the archers.
Rupert muttered an oath under his breath. I shot him a reassuring look, then returned my attention to the enemy. Their leader was mustering his men – the nasty part of my mind insisted he actually had a pretty good disguise, as his outfit wasn’t any more colourful or impractical as the rest of his men – and directing them towards us. I was fairly sure they’d known, right from the start, where we intended to make our stand. They wanted to give us a thrashing to teach the city a lesson, not actually fight and win a war. My lips twisted in grim amusement. It took one side to start a war, but two to end it.
“Squads One and Two, take aim,” I ordered. Accuracy would be shitty, but as long as a hail of musket balls were hurtling towards the enemy it probably didn’t matter. “Squads Three and Four, prepare yourselves. Squads Five and Six, take up reserve position.”
I braced myself as trumpets blared, the enemy starting to canter towards us. Timing was everything. We had to hit them, repeatedly, when they were trapped in the sweet spot between being able to retreat and being able to get to us before we blew them away. I wished, once again, for machine guns and mortars. I could have blasted them all from a safe distance with a handful of modern weapons. I could have … I pushed the thought out of my head as I counted down the seconds. It was better to err on the side of caution. If they thought they couldn’t run, they might just continue the charge anyway.
“On my command.” I raised my voice. “FIRE!”
Squads One and Two fired, the sound of muskets firing blurring together into a single terrifying note. I cursed under my breath as smoke started to shroud the trenches, then snapped orders to the next two squads. Squads One and Two knew what to do. They ducked into the trench, then hastily started to reload as Three and Four took up firing position and took aim. I didn’t hesitate.
“Squads Three and Four, FIRE!”
They fired, as one. I stared at the enemy force. It wavered, horses stumbling to a halt or crashing to the ground as musket balls slammed into them. I saw their riders falling over backwards or being thrown by their maddened steeds, the injured and dying men crashing into the survivors and sending them flying in all directions too. Their commander was trying to scream orders – or simply screaming, my thoughts whispered nastily – but it was too late. The orderly formation had devolved into a nightmarish mass of dying men and horses.
“Squads Five and Six,” I ordered. The smoke was getting worse. Visibility was dropping rapidly. “Fire!”
The enemy broke as a third wave of bullets slammed into them. Their commander tumbled to the ground. The survivors made no attempt to save him or any of the wounded. They just turned and ran. I saw one of my men shoot at a retreating horse, missing … I made a mental note to tick him off later, then waved to the cavalry. I’d forgive Harbin a great deal if his men turned the retreat into a rout. They didn’t move, not at first. Harbin had ordered them to mount up, but nothing beyond. It wasn’t until Rupert started screaming at them to take the field that they finally started moving. They were damn lucky, I noted crossly, that the enemy archers were already running. If they’d taken up position and opened fire, they could have massacred Harbin and his men as easily as the English had slaughtered the French at Agincourt. I told myself, grimly, that the next time would be a great deal harder. The warlords wouldn’t come in fat and happy now they knew they had to take us seriously.
“Gods,” Rupert breathed. The battlefield seemed to fall silent. “Is that … is that what it’s always like?”
“No,” I said. “Next time, it will be worse.”
My men started cheering, hooting and hollering and firing shots in the air. I didn’t try to stop them. Instead, I detailed three squads to search the remains of the enemy force and take anyone still alive to the chirurgeons. It might not do the poor bastards much good – the chirurgeons were butchers, even though I’d … convinced them to up their game – but we had to try. I felt my stomach churn as we stepped out of the trenches and walked across the blood-soaked ground. I’d seen horrors in my long career, yet … I shuddered at the carnage before me. My musket balls had shattered armour, driving fragments of metal deep into their chests. I hoped they’d died quickly. They’d been so badly injured that even modern medicine might not have been able to save them.
“We won.” Rupert sounded disbelieving. “We won.”
I clapped him on the shoulder. “This is your victory,” I said. “Enjoy it.”
The cavalry returned, looking surprisingly pleased with themselves for men who’d done nothing more than chase down retreating troops. Harbin cantered up to us and jumped to the ground, his eyes going wide as he took in the battleground for the first time. I wondered, sourly, if he was smart enough to understand what he was seeing. The cavalry and archers were no longer the undisputed kings of the battlefield. A handful of men with muskets could tear them to shreds. And as weapons technology advanced …
Harbin stopped and stared. “That’s … that’s Clarence Aldred!”
I followed his gaze. He was staring at the remains of the enemy commander, his body so badly battered that it was hard to be sure what had actually killed him. The armour was damaged, but the livery remained intact …
“We killed the warlord’s son?” Rupert swallowed, audibly. “Now there will be no peace.”
“There will be,” I assured him. I cursed, mentally. I doubted anyone in the city – or in the warlord’s territories – would really mourn, but the political implications were worrying. I’d expected the warlord to keep pushing, just to make sure our victory wasn’t a fluke, yet … if we’d killed his son, he’d have a cause. “We just have to win the war.”
I smiled, heading back to my men. We’d won. No one had expected us to win, not in the city behind us or the enemy territory in front, but we’d won. And now it was time to celebrate.
