A Daemon-Horn Blade Ch. 13

"I fear this will indeed be so, and I fear for my homeland." Loren sadly said. "As you have the greatest force yet in these southern parts, how may my men serve you? We know you all to be men of the highest honor, and my troop, thirty six in number, would be honored to join with yours!"

"Again, more happy news!" Boyle exclaimed and waited for Rowan to nod his head in agreement. "I command these mere forty-eight myself, and my ability to train them has been inadequate at best. If you would be my lieutenant and drill-master for our combined cavalry, to teach them the art of mounted archery, we... all of us, would be much in your debt!"

"No, it is I that shall always remain in your debt, for my life and freedom, and that of my wife and children! I shall be your strong right arm and lead wherever you might point until the last Eorfleode has been slain or fled our lands. I must warn you all that the art of mounted archery is a complicated one, requiring years of training to master, but fortunately our enemy enjoys massing itself together in reckless charges, and thus makes an easy target area for even novice bowmen. Even most of my current force is but little trained, but now all shall learn together."

Loren dismissed his cavalry to join and meet their new companions, and the feisty new Lieutenant was taken to meet the rest of the commanding Counsel for Lady Ayleth's Own Regiment. Rowan himself introduced the Lady to him, but he carefully warned Loren later that Her Ladyship's duties and responsibilities for the regiment were purely honorary, and that he should never accept given orders from her unless they were confirmed by another member of the Counsel. Loren was puzzled, but was soon made to understand about the Lady's significant social and military limitations.

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Now somewhat reinforced, and with a good tactical appraisal of the situation, Rowan commanded for the regiment and its followers to resume the march to Ruromel, and at the double. The wagon could not be hastily repaired and so it was abandoned, with its stores quickly shifted to some of the other already over-burdened carts and wagons.

The town was only about two leagues away, or about three hours at the fastest traveling pace the regiment could currently manage, slowed by rickety wagons and the weary camp followers. The companies were given orders that they would march without a rest until they reached the town, as they could be urgently needed for its defense there. The followers and the supply wagons would have to make their own best speed. If another wagon was to break down, then it was to be left abandoned on the road, and its supplies removed and if necessary carried by hand.

Boyle detailed half of his augmented cavalry to remain behind to guard the camp followers and the wagons, as they soon began to fall behind the companies, who were now marching at the double-quick. If they could hold this pace for the three leagues that they needed to travel to reach the town, they might arrive right about noontime. The wagons, along with the rest of the refugees would fall much further behind, but barring a crisis, everyone should be able to reach safety before darkness. Miraculously, their improving luck held, and well before sunset the last handful of tired refugees stumbled into the town, relieved and happy. Most of the soldiers were already getting some rest in their temporary quarters in the town's main stables, with the 1st company alert and on guard, working with the townsmen to help erect a wooden palisade to improve their defenses.

Rowan gathered the counsel, including the Lady Ayleth, to meet with the Count of the town, and his own group of headsmen that advised him. The meeting lasted quite long into the night, but fortunately included a rather good hot dinner provided by the Count's own chefs. Rowan forgot his worries and frustrations long enough to enjoy seconds, and the ever hungry Boyle had thirds and yet another late night snack in the kitchen before he took his bed. The meeting went quite smoothly as the strategic and tactical situations were discussed and rarely debated. Even the Lady Ayleth remained mostly on her best behavior.

The Count had received enough warning of the approaching war-bands of Boar-Men that he was able to put every able-bodied man and woman in the town into service, and he had enough stored arms and provisions to reasonably well equip them all. Count Renfield was well liked in the town as was accounted to be a kindly and rather progressive lord, well thought of by his subjects. The Lady, who was of a much more conservative political bent, took exception to many of his progressive policies, but she shut her mouth in silence about them after the second time that the Foole kicked her shins under the table.

Boar-Men were currently on both sides of the Hythe River, and the opposite town of Brydara had been pretty thoroughly sacked. Cook fires could still be seen across the river, but fortunately the wind remained mostly from the northwest, and blew the smell of these ghastly feastings away from them. Currently near the town on their northern side of the river, only a few large war-bands had been seen recently, perhaps of only two or three hundred Eorfleode in total. These forces would have been dangerous for the Count's smaller force of only about a hundred and fifty largely untrained soldiers, but now with the arrival of Rowan's regiment, the odds were now much in their favor. Should the Boar-Men attack again soon, they would find a larger ready force waiting for them!

Rowan offered to submit his force to the overall command of the Count, who undoubtedly had far superior military experience than the young lad, but he declined. For the moment, their commands remained separate, but a joint plan of action was prepared so that everyone would know their duty.

Before they broke up the meeting for the night, Rowan ordered his 2nd Company to join the night guard-watch. This decision probably saved the regiment and the entire town as rather unexpected, a large war-band of Eorfleode made a sudden night attack upon the town. With only a little bit of warning, and barely enough men to hold the newly built wooden palisade defenses, the Count's handful of veteran guardsmen and the brave 2nd Company held off the first wave of the attack and stopped it cold, more than long enough for the other two off-duty companies, and the Count's home guard to reach the near overwhelmed defenders.

It was a messy and rather sloppy battle that raged all around the edges of the town until the first light of dawn, when the Boars-Men grudgingly made a tactical retreat to the edge of a nearby wood, where another war-band waited to join in the sack. From the looks of things downriver, most of the bands that had sacked Brydara were now slowly regrouping back here, north across the river. Instead of facing only a few hundred savages, if they waited much longer they might easily be attacked soon by a force of five or six hundred, or even more. That was grimmer odds with green, hardly trained troops.

The nighttime chaotic battle had not been one that the regiment had trained for, let alone practiced, but they held themselves fairly well. In particular, their support teams worked hastily but effectively getting the walking wounded out of the line to safety for healing, and even boldly pulled and carried out the more grievously wounded from the every center of the battle, even at the very real peril of their own lives. More than a few received wounds of their own. Still, when the butcher's bill was tallied that next morning, the regiment had apparently done fairly well. They had lost over three score of casualties with varying degrees of wounds, and but a single score of fallen dead. This was much better than Rowan had feared.

Both counsels briefly met together and they decided to send out much of the cavalry to harass the relatively small groups of Eorfleode that were now crossing the river on crude rafts, to cut down the numbers that were slowly combining into a larger war-army. Now the issue of whether to fight a defensive or offensive war remained. If they stayed behind the crude wooden palisade, they might take fewer and less severe wounds, but they would also be less of a danger to the Boar-Men. If they could gather up enough returning war-bands as reinforcements then the wall could never hold them back for long. Then a messy unorganized fight in the streets would ensue -- a deadly fight for survival but at an extreme disadvantage.

Rowan sadly knew what was the best course of action was, but he knew it would cost his regiment dearly.

"We must gather our forces in formation outside, but tight with our backs against the barricade so that they cannot surround us or flank us with their greater numbers. If left inside we could hold the walls for a time but eventually their numbers and greater strength would tell. In a street fight my soldiers would be left to battle in but small groups, unsupported and without comrades at their side to embolden their nerves when their thoughts consider flight. Outside in formation, they can trust to their training, such as what little they have. Let us then place the swords and spearmen into two long ranks outside, with their task to not defeat the enemy all alone by themselves but to hold it contain and in place with their shields. Let the bowmen stand upon boxes and carts behind the wall, and on the roofs of the town buildings, to be able to fire at will over the fence upon the enemy to winnow their ranks. Let them peel off the flanks of our foe like a sharp knife would peel a piece of fruit. Our men and brave women will sustain fearful losses, but by this means we can fight this greater army piecemeal and destroy it small bits at a time, else they gather their masses to rush us in concert, overwhelming us entirely."

Boyle and the Foole sadly nodded their heads in agreement, and then at length Gwenda concurred. She knew that a great many of the soldiers that she had personally instructed, and was starting to know as comrades and fellow companions, would fall... perhaps even most of them, but she knew in her heart that Rowan's plan offered the best chance to save even some of them, and the town. With a clasp of his hand at Rowan's courage, the Count agreed.

"That's a bold and dangerous plan, but I too think it for the best for all of us. Too much innocent blood would flow in the streets of this town otherwise. We must trust to our plan, and to The Seven for our salvation! My trained men-at-arms shall all join you outside of the wall as well, leaving only the archers and my ill-trained and disciplined reserve to remain behind in support. The Boar-Men are too bold and courageous in battle to resist the sight of our smaller force sallying forward outside our walls, to challenge them to battle. Their honor will not permit them to resist this, despite the fact that their forces are far from gathered and prepared to meet us. Accordingly we shall trust entirely in you and your soldiers, and we shall create some small openings in the log walls, in front of where you will make your stand, that some of the wounded might be removed to shelter and perhaps a brave replacement or two to move forward to assume their place in the line... for your battle-line must hold, or we shall all perish!"

Facing his regiment and friends, Rowan tersely gave them the necessary orders for them form up into two long ranks outside, shoulder to shoulder, shields up and ready to defend the line at all costs. As promised, the Count's own men formed up as well, in-between the three companies. It was a long and much too thin line, with the foot soldiers, armed and armored with everything that the Count had left remaining, standing bravely in front, with the lighter armored spear and long pikemen behind them. Many already had hastily bound wounds from the earlier battle during the night.

Here and there, Rowan or Gwenda examined one of their troops that seemed be more heavily wounded, but even with being offered a release from the battle-line, each and every one refused to retreat to safety with the reserves. Their soldiers were inexperienced, barely even blooded from their first combat, but they had the will to fight, bravely, apparently even to the bitter end against superior odds. The Boar-Men would be stronger, and would bear their heavy weapons with great ferocity and skill, and only the defense of the line could keep these monsters at bay. No one needed to be reminded of the cost of failure; each and every man and woman in the town knew that only their own bravery and courage would save them or the ones that they loved from a roasting pit or a cooking pot. Still, as Rowan saw that the enemy was starting to gather to advance upon them, answering their challenge, he stepped forward to speak a few last words of encouragement to his assembled army, but he was immediately interrupted.

"Nay lad." One of the older soldiers, a middle-aged former refugee from Elmcrygh who had lost his entire family in the sack of the town, loudly said, so that all could hear him. "We don't need to hear your words to extort us to remain steadfast, and boldly hold firm while we watch our friends and companions all fall one by one around us. We all know, every man and woman, what needs to be done and we shall all do our duty and even more. For you, lad, and for lady Gwenda, we shall fight! We shall even fight for the Lady Ayleth, and for the Duchy, such as remains of it. Be ready lads, for the enemy now comes! Let us make our stand together and never step a single foot back!"

"For Rowan!" The regiment shouted loudly as one. "And for Gwenda, Boyle, Oddtus the Foole, and for the Lady Ayleth! And for Tellismere, which shall yet survive while one of us lives to bear arms in her defense. To The Seven, may they protect the race of men!"

Now, with Rowan and Gwenda taking their places in the center of the battle-line, the army as one took one stomping march step forward and the front rank drew a line in the dirt with their weapons, declaring that not step further would a single of the Eorfleode ever cross! A few moments later, the point of the Boar-Man's charge crashed into their battle line and the dire life and death struggle began.

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From the very start, Rowan and his brightly burning sword were impossible to miss on the battlefield, and rather than being frightened by this seemingly divine apparition in front of them, it seemed that nearly every single boarman wanted to charge straight at and then fight Rowan personally, even willing to wait in turn for their chance to face him. Their mighty forces all bunched up at their center, leaving their wings lightly manned. Soon, instead of fighting in a straight line, the 1st and 3rd Companies on the ends could now flank and even envelop a good part of their attackers.

Like the fight on Dead Tree Island, Rowan noticed that if the Eorfleode had planned their advance and assault with better coordination, the human lines might easily have been broken and their forces then surrounded and quickly crushed. But instead, as always, the savage creatures fought only for their own personal glory, as individuals and they did not cooperate together in pairs or even squads to maximize their advantages in battle. Rowan's regiment, on the other hand fought the best it could as a team, with one man's shield trying to protect his companions to his left and right, so that their sword or spear thrusts could be more certain. The Boar-Men, as always were bigger and stronger, and ferocious in battle, but Rowan's inexperienced army had a superior defensive alignment, and the willingness to fight together, as a team. He hoped that these slight advantages would be enough.

Right from the start, Rowan was at the very heart of the battle, well-protected by his sword and an excellent set of chainmail gifted to him by the Count. In his growing rage and fury, his sword made him nigh untouchable, and his chain turned the few spear or sword strokes that reached him. The infernal flames shot out from the point of the sword nearly ten feet at times, as he recklessly swung his sword, searing and devouring his foes, but still they came, often in suicidal reckless charges as they hoped to win the glory of his death.

Up and down the line, men and women fell, sometimes to be rescued and pulled back inside the walls to safety, but as often as not to lie forever still. As one of their fellows fell, the line shrunk, as the wing closed up to cover the breaks. Hard pressed to keep up with Rowan, who was now advancing deep into the heart of the Eorfleode host in a near berserker frenzy, the battle-line stepped forward again and again, over the ranks of the Boar-Men they had slain, and their own fallen, but could never quite keep up with the heroic example of their leader. Even the Count, challenging his veterans to greater efforts of prowess, could barely lead his men much further ahead, nor could he advance too far on his own, and cause a break in the battle-line.

Frantic for Rowan's safety, Gwenda surged out the line to follow him and to attempt to protect his back against the seemingly hundreds of bloodthirsty monsters that sought to surround him and bring him down under the sheer weight of their numbers. Behind her she could see the Foole, commanding the archers along the war to concentrate their devastating fire to help prevent this, but still she was sorely pressed to keep their backs reasonable clear. Trusting to quickness, she had declined to wear heavier chain armor so that her sword and dagger hands could dance freely, darting in and out of her taller and stronger foes to stab rapidly into their vitals before she herself could be touched. Still her arms were bloody with cuts and she had a deep cut into her left thigh that was starting to slow and weaken her, but she just grit her teeth harder and fought increasingly reckless, to protect the man that had rescued her... a man she now felt that she loved.

Still it was not enough. While Rowan was one with his infernal weapon, creating vast swaths of flaming dead that no mortal could hope to emulate, Gwenda was merely one very outraged and skilled, but normal woman, and despite her superb skill, a savage spear thrust into her side and pierced through her leather jerkin. Driven then to the ground, she might have been beyond all hope of rescue if Coryn, the old captain of the The Lady Ellyn, and now their esteemed quartermaster hadn't burst through the battle-line from the support crew he was assisting, to throw his own body before Gwenda's, taking in short term two savage spear thrusts that certainly would have finished off the tall red-haired girl.

Somehow, against all belief, Coryn held to his feet and with short easy short strokes fell the two Boar-Men that had so nearly slain her. With his sword hand keeping the rest at bay, he grabbed her jerkin with his free hand and began to slowly drag her back toward the battle-line, and to safety. The old Captain, from his long life on the river and hardened by years of battle, swung his blade with considerable skill that even rivaled Gwenda's, but his wounds were grievous, and they slowed his retreat as well. Even his skill couldn't protect him much longer as he once again needed to interpose his own flesh to spare Gwenda from a savage sword blow that would have otherwise taken off her head. He staggered but did not quite fall, and standing firm with resolve, he defended her near helpless body until a pair of regimental soldiers reached them from the advancing battle-line, and took them both away to safety.

"I see already my long departed wife Ellyn standing now before me." The mortally wounded captain whispered to Gwenda, as they lay together on the ground behind the safety of the palisade, his voice weak and spectral. "She beckons to me and I must follow her, to the Shadowlands, where we shall be once again together after many years separated. I have no regrets and we enjoyed a very good life together for many years before our sudden parting. You owe me no debts of gratitude, as my sacrifice was slight, as it was already near my time to pass even before this grim morning. Still, if bear memory you must, I would not be ashamed that you might someday bear and give a son my name, or give a daughter that of my dear Ellyn, as we had no children of our own to pass on our names. Be well my adopted-daughter of my heart, and love and honor your man well, for he has truly been sent by Weavers and The Seven to save us all."