Forlorn Hope - Chapter 6
Warhorses and Invaders
Previous Chapter | First Chapter | Contents | Next Chapter
‘Three villages and two roving bands yet no one wants to fight,’ Prince Lothan leaned back in his saddle, his spine cracking. ‘Perhaps they have the right of it. Silicia falls and I doubt the Gör Khāni will slaughter them all. Maybe the Emperor will have an easier time taxing them.’ He laughed alone.
‘Lothan, your mood is ill,’ Tamon scowled. He’d scowled for days, each refusal to join the Prince’s warband only deepened it. ‘The people will fight when they see they have too.’
‘Regaling them with tales of burning villages and skewered women only serves to embolden them for defending their own hearth, not someone else’s. Father failed to make these men indebted to him and now here we are suffering the consequences.’
‘My Prince, it is not so. There are loyal warriors out here… somewhere,’ Tamon scanned the horizon of flat plain ending at the sea to the west and a forest to the east.
‘Well if they’d show themselves my behind would thank them,’ Chatogan stood in his stirrups. ‘How our grand-fathers rode all day I’ll never know,’ he sighed and sank into his saddle.
‘That is why the nomads did not join, they see us as city-folk. Settlers,’ Hufin ran a hand through his unbraided hair falling down his back. ‘I don’t blame them.’
‘But we share this land and the Gör Khāni are more settled than we are! Infantry! Never has the core of a Silician army been infantry. Always cavalry. Swift, aggressive, unstoppable,’ Lothan growled. ‘No, they are cowards. Traitors. That is all… my father’s grip was too loose and now…’
‘Says the drunk,’ Chatogan admired himself in his bronze mirror, a thumb caressed the breasts of the handle. Lothan tugged the reins and guided his steed over to Chatogan. The oaf raised an eyebrow and watched him, mirror in hand. ‘If you’re going to hit me just do it.’
Lothan felt a quiver in his stomach hearing Chatogan crack the knuckles of his free hand, ‘I haven’t had a drink since Silicia.’ He rejoined Tamon.
Hmph, ‘At least that explains your sour mood. A drop of kumis would fix you right up, or a drop of Xun-Ma Rei.’
Lothan wheeled around and slammed his fist into Chatogan’s jaw. The bronze mirror slipped from his hand as the bear sloped off his horse to land in the pampas grass. ‘Why do you always chase the same woman?’
Chatogan wheezed and rolled on his back. His horse trotted a short distance away then stopped to eat the grass. He got to his knees and patted the grass for his mirror. ‘To keep you fresh,’ he slipped the bronze woman into his belt.
Lothan guided his horse closer, ‘How generous of you, such a loyal retainer.’
Chatogan stumbled to his feet and turned. The confusion in his eyes vanished as quick as it had settled and grappled Lothan out of his saddle. He roared, lifted the Prince overhead, and dropped him on his back.
Breathless, the Prince arched his back and cried wordlessly.
‘Chatogan!’ Hufin, Rugad, and Tamon shouted together.
‘Your father may have his failings but don’t claim to know the remedy when you’ve been lost in a bottle for six years with your ears between more pairs of tits than a Graceshi whorehouse,’ Chatogan stalked towards Lothan.
Rolling over, each breath stung his throat. Stars flared in his vision, yet he rose. ‘You were right there beside me. Let me complain, I have the right to it,’ Lothan pinched the bridge of his nose and rose to his knees.
‘Six years is five too many,’ Chatogan’s foot slammed into his stomach. Lothan rolled over, his wind left behind. ‘Xun-Ma will be given to the Gör Khāni infantry if you don’t convince these bannermen. Pomae too, if, no, when they sack her village. What of Uro? Woli? Garaki and Maraki? And the thousand others that you lured into bed with stories and free drinks?’
‘I didn’t lure them, I seduced them,’ Lothan felt the dirt on his lip and the grass on his cheeks.
‘With tales from your youth! Not last months victory, or last years, last decades!’ Chatogan gripped Lothan by the scruff of his deel and hauled him up. ‘We fought with you then and we’ll fight with you now but not like this. I won’t fight with this mewling coward. Seduce the bannermen and elders like you seduce their daughters and we’d be at the head of a host of ten thousand by now!’
Lothan hung in the air, limp in Chatogan’s grasp. He could kick or punch but there was no point. Blood stained the bear’s lip, but only a drop. Hufin had an arrow nocked. Lothan shook his head and Hufin lowered his bow.
‘Do you feel that?’ Tamon said.
Lothan felt nothing as he hung in the air. Chatogan was right, he’d lost his fire and his iron will to easy drink and easier women. His loyal friend’s expression shifted and his eyes searched the horizon. He lowered Lothan to the ground, the pampas waved in the breeze between them. ‘Gör Khāni,’ Chatogan said.
‘Here?’ Lothan spun around. There was nothing on the horizon but the ground trembled, not to horse hooves but to men. He sprinted for his mount and set off in a gallop south-west and shouted, ‘There’s a village, old one of stone, not far from here!’
‘How old?’ Hufin yelled.
‘Older than my father’s crown. Older than the Gör Khāni Emperor’s crown too.’
‘Pah, they won’t help us,’ Rugad spat. ‘Those old towns still remember when Xun-Ma’s ancestors governed with their Council.’
‘Older than that too,’ Lothan replied, breathless. Chatogan galloped beside him, a questing look upon his brow. ‘You’re right. I lost myself for many years, no worthy challenges, no path to take, so I wallowed in my first victories and found I needed no more to be the hero.’
‘You didn’t need the story for free drinks and easy women, you’re the Prince of Silicia. You need ambition,’ Chatogan said. ‘That’s the only way to impress Xun-Ma Rei.’
The oaf was right and Lothan was left wondering when he’d become wise. Perhaps he always had been and that was why he seemed so joyed by something as simple as a mirror with a naked women for a handle.
‘How far?’ Hufin shouted from the rear.
‘Some miles, we have enough of a lead,’ Lothan said.
The village of Ostalor was little more than a cluster of twenty white stone buildings, the tallest only two storeys high, with tall tiled rooves. A stable outside the settlement boasted almost one hundred horses thick with muscle and far taller than the usual Silician mount. The streets were barren.
‘Never seen horses so perfect for war,’ Rugad said. ‘How come we don’t have those to ride?’
‘The Ostalor breed these war beasts and sell them, almost exclusively, to the Temple of Sel. A centuries long agreement,’ Tamon croaked. He was hunched in the saddle, the strain of riding with one usable hand apparent on his face.
‘More like a millennia,’ Lothan corrected. ‘I remember when grandfather attempted to secure a deal. You’d have thought he were a pig farmer rather than a king.’ The ground still trembled but it was slight, the infantry a few hours behind. ‘We don’t have time. They’ll know what comes, these people have survived more than a few invasions of this peninsula.’ Lothan drew himself up straight in the saddle and motioned his horse onto the main street of the town.
A shutter flew open and three full drawn bows greeted Lothan’s band. ‘Raiders?’ A child asked.
‘Friends,’ Lothan halted his small group. ‘I am Prince Lothan of Silicia, these are my retainers. Is your elder or headman present?’
‘No, he is off escorting a crop to the Temple,’ the child wheezed. ‘I mean…’
‘There is no need to lie. I would speak with whoever can talk for Ostalor. Gör Khāni raiders are on their way, you have surely felt this. We need to fight together to save your village, and many others, from a dire fate.’
The child didn’t respond but the arrowheads glinted and vanished into the darkness. A door flew open and a man and woman appeared, both young but the man was dressed in skins with two bows across his back. ‘I am Gotang, this is Hunli,’ the nomad said. ‘I saw the Gör Khāni burn the yurts of my kinsmen. That was far to the north-east of here. Has Silicia fallen?’
‘No but one hundred thousand march to try and fell the city, it is said the Great Emperor travels with his host to see Silicia fall,’ Lothan said. ‘I am to gather a host to crush him.’
Gotang fingered the hilt of his curved sword and shook his head. ‘No host could defeat such a force. Not since the Great Emperor of the Grass Sea has such an army been seen.’
‘The Great Emperor of the Grass Sea rode, this imposter walks.’
Gotang rose an eyebrow to that. ‘Then what comes to sack Ostalor?’
‘Men on foot armed with bows and moon swords,’ Lothan guessed. ‘Tired and parched from a long march.’
Gotang and Hunli shared a look. The nomad’s gaze fell to the remaining one hundred Ostalor warhorses. He whispered something to the woman who stepped forth and bowed, ‘My husband wishes to fight but my father entrusted the town to us both and I cannot send all of our horses to die. Our horses are our blood and have been for over a thousand years.’
‘Do you have warriors?’
Gotang’s eyes shone and he whistled a sharp note. From behind the buildings appeared young men in animal skins and furs alongside others in deels each with bows, spears, and swords. ‘How many do we fight?’
Lothan looked to Tamon who said, ‘No more than two hundred by the sound.’
‘Riders?’
‘Few if any.’
Gotang whispered something else to Hunli, something that made her sigh and close her eyes. After a pause she nodded and Gotang grinned from ear to ear.
‘They have one hundred and thirty-four men. Eighty will ride with us, the remaining will defend the town on foot with spear and bow,’ Tamon said.
Lothan sat ahorse keeping watch for Gör Khāni, ‘Why not a hundred riders?’
‘Hunli won’t allow it.’
‘If we lose it won’t matter.’
‘Gotang tried, without the horses they have nothing.’
Lothan shook his head, ‘Without their lives they have nothing. We ride with eighty,’ if her husband couldn’t convince her there was no chance he could. ‘Did we secure ourselves horses?’
‘If we win.’
‘This is why I lived in pubs and inns, people respect titles there.’
‘No offence, my Prince, but you and the line of Kings you represent are a speck in her eye. She traced her lineage back to someone named Borhild. I lost count of how many generations it was. The horses are more noble than us.’
Lothan grunted, ‘Perhaps you would like to settle here?’
‘My Prince, I only meant…’
‘I know what you meant. She sees me has having more in common with the Gör Khāni than Ostalor, and that’s true, but she married one of our kind.’
‘A second husband. The first died of disease, the children in the window were from the first. Gotang is hoping for his own child come spring,’ Tamon said.
‘I thought you went to talk tactics but all you’ve told me is family drama,’ a black smudge appeared on the horizon, shimmering between the green and blue. ‘They’re here.’
Lothan rode at the head of eighty men each equipped with bow and spear, and some with axes but it was their horses he admired, his own a mere pony in comparison. Gotang had an arrow nocked already and his mount, a monstrous beast, chewed the bit as it kicked at the ground. The black smudge had gained texture and as it had neared Ostalor it had splintered into three units, each more numerous than the eighty horsemen.
‘Chatogan, we’ll focus on the right flank. The left looks like it’s headed for the town. Skewer them with arrows and when we’re two hundred yards away take half the men and we’ll charge from both sides, crushing them in the middle,’ Lothan said. He clicked his tongue and his horse picked up pace.
‘Sounds good to me,’ Chatogan repeated the order to the Ostalori man behind him and it rippled through the ranks.
‘Arrows ready!’ Lothan bellowed feeling unused muscles come alive. His bowstring groaned, the horses cantered towards the enemy. ‘Loose!’ Eighty arrows pierced the sky and vanished into the sunlight. ‘Again!’ Lothan ordered as he heard whistling. Moments later it turned to screams as two dozen Gör Khāni fell dead, the ground pluming with arrows. The infantry broke into an all out charge, their moon blades held high with the hooked rear facing blade out front. ‘Loose!’
The second volley ravaged the front rank and file causing the later ranks to trip and fall over dead comrades. Lothan kicked his horse into a gallop, readied a third volley, and at the last moment he and Chatogan split and arced hard to the flanks. ‘Loose!’ The third volley tore through the lamellar armour of the enemy. ‘Spears!’ He slipped his own bow into its case and before he could ready his spear Gotang and the Ostalori had surged past him, their horses panting and frothing at the mouth while their hides glistened red.
The horrid crunch of bone and armour thundered across the plain. Riders were hooked from their saddles. Men were trampled. Blood and mud mingled. Before Lothan had a chance to know what was going on it was over. Chatogan led the first hurrah as he shared a warriors grip with Gotang.
The Prince’s arms ached, his eyes stung, and a nausea burrowed into his gut. Too long in taverns, he knew. Chatogan’s face fell and his lips moved but all Lothan could hear was ringing. He turned to face the same direction and lucidity drenched him. ‘Reform! Reform! Bows at the ready!’ He kicked his mount to escape the death trap of fallen enemies. The ground rumbled.
‘Lothan, enemies from the rear!’ Gotang barked. The centre unit of infantry had turned to intercept the Prince’s band while the left unit advanced on the town easily having three-to-one odds.
‘Enemy cavalry first, they’re the threat,’ Lothan pointed with an arrow at the heavy armoured horsemen pounding his way. ‘Do not engage with spear, their armours too thick their blades too strong. Once we gallop, spread out and circle them. Shower them with arrows, don’t wait for my command.’ He glanced over the muddied faces of his men, some were missing, and kicked his horse into a gallop.
The Gör Khāni captain jabbed his moon blade polearm at Lothan, a flurry of peacock feathers fluttering from his helm. Lothan guided his band southward and ordered them to spread out. He loosed the first arrow and missed the captain by a hand span. The thwang of bowstring deafened him. He heard whistling close. ‘Spread out!’ He ordered as arrows pelted the ground around him. The wind turned downward and a spurt of blood burst from his cheek. Lothan winced and reached for his own arrow to return the kiss. His chosen target toppled from the saddle, a heap of black lamellar and snapped arrow shafts tumbling head over heel, his horse continued on for the thrill.
Lothan led his band around the rear of the enemy horde hoping to pull them away from the town and tire out the pursuing unit of infantry. He had succeeded in his second goal as the men leaned on their swords and spears panting. The cavalry, however, merely rode on towards Ostalor. Volley after volley peppered the behinds of the Gör Khāni but they didn’t care as a dozen men fell every volley, while others rode on with arrows sprouting from their armour.
‘My Prince!’ Chatogan roared, ‘Gotang has fled with half the men!’
Lothan glanced over to see smoke rising from the town. He hadn’t fled. ‘Gotang assists the town, we must deal with the horsemen.’
Chatogan simply nodded and snapped the reins of his too small mount. The bear on a pony loosed three arrows in succession, downing three enemies, before switching to his oversized single edged sword. Lothan spurred his horse onward along with the remaining horsemen and together they smashed into the rear of the Gör Khāni cavalry. Lothan’s stomach turned as horses brayed and bones crunched. He hacked left and right finding flesh and armour until there was only death encircling him. Lothan peered up, someone else’s blood on his lip, and saw Chatogan duelling with the peacocked feathered captain. The man’s moon blade was a silver blur to his friends weighty sabre. Then in three swift swings Chatogan toppled from his mount, with an expression more shock than pain, as blood sluiced from hip to collarbone.
‘NO!’ Lothan slapped his horse’s flank with the butt of his spear and charged. Tears welled in his eyes, hot and angry.
The captain sneered, blood lining his teeth. He barked something in a dialect Lothan didn’t know but he knew what was meant in the harsh guttural sounds. The Prince thrust and parried, jabbed and blocked, the pair were a whirl of imminent death. The long crescent blade bit into the shaft of Lothan’s spear. Splinters burst forth as the ash cracked length ways. Lothan guided his horse forward, his spear breaking in two and the moon blade carving into the back leg of the steed. His horse brayed and kicked. Lothan held fast to the reins and pierced the neck of the captain’s horse with the split shaft. The horse shuddered and the peacock helmed menace flailed as he fell with it, swearing all the while.
Lothan dismounted and found the captain trapped beneath his own horse from the waist down. He shouted and punched the horse but it was no use. Lothan found Chatogan but his spirit had already fled for the sky above. The Prince swallowed his rage, tears wet on his cheeks, and felt it surge through him. The massive sabre was beside him and, with both hands, Lothan picked it up and stalked towards the Gör Khāni captain still barking commands. His men were too busy dying to hear him but it cost Ostalor and Lothan dearly. The Prince raised Chatogan’s blade and let the weight of the blade fall on the captain’s neck. Blood and mud mushroomed up. The captain choked and wheezed but did not die forcing Lothan to try again, and then again. On the third time the head came away from the body in a puddle of blood. Tears pattered into the crimson pool as Lothan leaned on his friend’s sword.
‘My Prince,’ Hufin said. ‘The enemy are fleeing, shall we pursue?’
Lothan shook his head, ‘Leave them. Gather the dead, we must give alms to the birds and make certain our brethren’s spirits are freed.’ He stumbled over to Chatogan’s remains and took the bronze mirror from his belt. ‘Now you won’t want to come back,’ Lothan whispered and slid the handle of the naked woman into his belt.
Gotang slipped from his saddle when Lothan approached, Chatogan and three others draped across a horse’s back. Lothan’s own hobbled behind, unlikely to survive the night. ‘He was a great warrior, he will be missed,’ the nomad touched his heart then his forehead.
Lothan thanked him and carried on into town. Hunli sat hunched against the wall of her home coated in a film of blood and sweat, her children clasped about her.
‘My Prince,’ Tamon limped towards him, dozens of warriors behind him. Most injured. ‘The Ostalori have agreed to fight. They will join your warband and offer us horses too.’
Lothan held Tamon’s shoulder but he could not speak, if he spoke he would cry and if he cried he would not stop. Tamon nodded his understanding and guided Lothan into Gotang’s home which had become the command tent. There he poured the Prince a large goblet of arkhi and the two sat in silence until sunset and the time for giving alms to the birds.
Previous Chapter | First Chapter | Contents | Next Chapter
As always thanks for reading. Tap the heart and have a pleasant day.
On Saturday I will be posting an essay reflecting on 2023 and setting out my goals for 2024, stay tuned.
Very well done battle scene, good use of confusion and misdirection, often underplayed in most stories.
One note, in conversation starting here:
“There’s a village, old one of stone, not far from here”
Galloping horses are loud, not to mention the rushing wind, yet the characters are seemingly having a normal voiced conversation. Add description of having to shout over the noise of their passage, or change uses of “said” to “yelled”, “called”, “shouted” or similar adjectives for primary statements. Replies and responses to those will be assumed to be the same volume, so no changes needed to them. The exception is “spat”, that one fits perfectly as it is.
Separately, J.M. Elliott has written a novel called “Of Winds and Wolves” that is on Substack that is incredible and very well done. It’s based on a close reading of Herodotus and is about the warriors on the steppes of Central Asia in the Iron Age.