Seb/Bastian
The ‘Squire’
Brother Sebastos
Red Bridge | the Mother of all Thunders
Part I
-The moment you forget about the ‘sure’ part-
The abrupt burst of pure white light transformed the night into a dazzling day. It sliced through the darkness with force, pushing it back hundreds of meters in every direction. To the south, it illuminated the banks of Chinos River, while to the north, it spilled over the lush groves of Crimson Forest. Westward, it reached Rita’s Inn and the sprawling Chariots Camp of the Horselords, tucked away behind the trees along the coastal road. To the east, the light was so intense that it felt like a physical assault on Sebastian that left him momentarily blinded.
For a split second the advancing Cataphracts and the scythed war-chariots became visible, spanning the expanse of the open terrain and the road itself up to the walnut-trees line. Then a thunderous rumble erupted, and the light transformed into a blinding red blaze that brushed aside both horses and people like Oras’ great scythe.
A sudden gush of hot wind reached as far as Sir Albert Kosters’ scared men-at-arms, just after the crackling echo of the explosion. When it died down, an eerie silence had replaced it and the grove was on fire on both sides of the coastal road, two hundred meters ahead of them. Of course, the rattled Sebastian’s ringing ears couldn’t make one sound from the other for quite a while.
So that moment of silence might have been a product of his imagination.
“Uher has spoken! Charge at them!” The Lord Commander of the Golden Spears bellowed and galloped first behind his lance and shield towards the thick smokes and flames that had appeared in the place of the Horselord force. Sebastian did the same going after Magister De Hove and Brukel, the men-at-arms already on the move, some scared horses denying their riders. He galloped towards the burning grass and the blackened, disturbed part of the road, his ears still ringing and blood trickling from the bandage wrapped around his face.
As they approached, the first smashed and upturned chariots appeared, few of them whole and one even burning on top of a tree, ten meters to their right. Burning wheels rolling past his nervous horse and soon parts of people appeared under the animal’s hooves. Burst open torsos and uprooted limbs. Guts and bones. Smoking weapons and sweltering flesh. Human and animal fat burning in freshly created brooks that cut across the cobblestone road. A large round crevice half-a-meter deep carved in the middle of the road, with cracked stones found lodged inside the Horselords and their horses’ bodies’ right and left, very close to where Carlson’s mule had exploded. Sebastian saw no sign of the poor soldier himself as he arrived.
A Cataphract’s horse covered in vapors came out of the smoke, the Horselord still on the saddle but half of his left side missing from head to toe. The armour, clothes and flesh blown off of his bones. The silent knight’s smiling mask fused on his mangled skull. The shocked Sebastian’s ears popped and sounds returned again as he rode through the devastation. Pained neighs, desperate cries of pain, or outright traumatized shrieks piercing the roar of many hooves thudding on the ground from both directions.
“Attack those left! No mercy for the Heathens!” Sir Kosters ordered with a hoarse voice. The squire clenched his jaw and glanced over his shoulder in Reinhart’s haunted eyes –the young Inquisitor had approached with the rest of Vellers’ mounted force.
Reinhart nodded he would be right behind him and Sebastian kicked his legs to get the horse going.
-
28th early morning
-
Twenty minutes later
The groves were on fire. Huge tongues of bright red flames leaped for the sky and tall trees blazed like huge torches on all sides of the coastal road. Burning horses had galloped to escape and spread the fire inside the woods, assisted by flaming debris. The otherworldly terrain reminded Sebastian of the nightmarish descriptions he’d read in books about Oras Hells.
‘The third hell is the Obsidian Abyss.’ Brother Draven Wasser wrote in his scriptures. ‘A cursed realm forged not of fire and brimstone, but of eternal twilight and the echoing screams of shattered hope. Jagged, coal-colored mountains pierce the bruised purple sky at the distance, their peaks scraping against a suffocating canopy of swirling, ash-laden clouds. Rivers of molten sorrow carve their way through the desolate desert landscape, their banks lined with the skeletal remains of forgotten gods and the weeping souls of the damned.’
Sebastian thought they had all been transported there by divine intervention, as he led his shaken horse towards a group of Issir soldiers finishing off several injured, shell-shocked charioteers. A swift execution by the side of the road. The butchered bodies kicked down the soft inclines to make room for the next one in line. He felt his stomach turn, not at the sight of gore and destruction. Not from the toxic fumes and putrid gases leaking from burning flesh, nor from the rancid smell of human and animal excrement that filled his lungs, but the callousness displayed by people of god. People Sebastian knew personally and deeply admired.
“Reb started it,” Brukel said hoarsely, sipping from his flask by the side of the road. “It’s not an excuse, but they all wanted to do it. After a day and night wrestling with the devil, some of his stench rubs off on you.”
Sebastian licked his bitter lips and then spat down with a grimace of disgust, before pressing a finger on his bandage. The stitches leaking down the cut on his cheek again, a small rivulet of crimson painting his collar.
“How do you get it off?” Sebastian asked.
The devil’s stench was his meaning.
“You don’t,” Brukel replied, not in a good mood himself. They were winning, but still, they hadn’t really accomplished anything. The priest was looking at him strangely. “The fire in yer belly… you must know when to stop. Some men do, others become the devil. They get lost, forget why they were fighting for, or for whom and their souls wither away.”
“What happens to them?” Sebastian queried watching Luikens approach with a couple of Inquisitors and the distraught Falco. The Golden Spears soldier looking about for any sign of his friend.
“Uher burns them,” Brukel retorted and hid his flask inside his robes. “Or men working for him.”
“It worked Brukel,” the Assayer said, his eyes unseen behind the gleaming in the light of the burning fires glasses. “The solider the mixture, the higher the output!”
“If you say so,” Brukel grunted.
“They must have seen and heard this,” one of the Inquisitors said and Reinhart nodded.
“How soon afore they react?” Brukel asked them and the Assayer shrugged his shoulders indifferently.
“Let them come. I have three pack-mules laden with sticks coming up. We can get the Deliverers going also, but the crates… all the ammo, needs to be transported away from this darn heat. Too much and it might re-liquefy the nitro-paste. It’ll be completely unstable then. Summer isn’t the best time perhaps to perform tests. Umm.”
What tests? We’re fighting for our lives here! Our friends are dying!
A stunned Sebastian sat back on the saddle with a scowl.
“Everyone gets a ten minute rest!” Sir Albert Kosters yelled riding past them. “Then we march again!”
Reinhart woke him up some time later. Sebastian had collapsed with his back on a wagon’s wheel in the middle of the road. His body felt battered and his face hurt when the squire tried to move his jaw. The light coming from the still burning forest didn’t help Sebastian, when he opened his tired eyes.
“We’re moving,” a rough-looking Reinhart told him.
“How long was I out?”
“Twenty minutes. Sir Albert left already.”
“Ah. Brukel?” Sebastian asked and got up.
“He told the commander to leave you behind,” Reinhart replied. “How’s the face?”
“Hurts? What are you going to do?” Sebastian asked and used a wet cloth to clean eyes and forehead.
“Follow Vellers. The 2nd Brother will move to Rita’s Inn through the woods.”
“The woods are burning,” Sebastian noted.
“Yeah. It’s a concern for sure.”
“What’s the general plan?” Sebastian probed as they walked towards the grazing horses.
“Reach the Horselords camp afore sunrise,” Reinhart replied. “It’s near Rita’s Inn.”
“How far is it?”
“Not that far, but we’ll march slow and bring the Deliverers,” Reinhart said with a sigh and Sebastian noticed Luikens and Flucht oversee the loading of more mules with his sticks.
“Can we break through?” Sebastian asked him and the young Inquisitor shrugged his shoulders.
“I’ve no idea. Events elsewhere might make this a complete disaster in the end. Eh, you’ll follow us until the inn, as reaching Sir Thor is not possible now. Brukel’s words,” Reinhart explained.
Sir Rupert Tellman
Rupert’s tired eyes watched the Khanate soldiers’ campfires from the edge of the copse, near a grouping of gray Beech trees. A dull pain numbing his left shoulder and the tied up arm felt worse than before despite the sling. The land opened up beyond the woods to the south, but the ground was still rough and peppered with brittle stones.
Nothing a horse couldn’t handle for a while.
He heard someone approaching and turned to see his sister. She touched his shoulder carefully.
“It’s fine. I overreacted earlier,” Rupert assured her, although he hadn’t. “You don’t have to worry about me.”
“I always will,” Siske replied with an angry pout. “You’re my big brother.”
Rupert sighed.
“Who are they?” Siske asked after a brief moment of silent contemplation.
“More of Khan’s men, I reckon.”
“Will they attack?”
“Come sunrise,” Rupert replied. “How’s father?”
“He wants to speak with you,” Siske said in a whisper. “Is why I came.”
Rupert nodded and walked back into the heart of the copse with her.
Sir Reinir Tellman rested under an old beech tree, wearing his pants, his gambeson and most of his cuirass. Some parts they couldn’t remove, since the broken lance kept everything in place according to the old knight. He hadn’t allowed them to remove it. His father’s clothes had darkened with blood and even in the semi-darkness, Sir Reinir appeared extremely pale.
More dead than alive.
Rupert grimaced and glanced at the men-at-arms resting around them inside the trees, with their horses nearby. Linus his horse, Banner -his sister’s and Sagen their father’s stallion were grouped together near the Iron Griffin’s tree. The famed helm and sword secure on his father’s saddle, with Finn Rohm and Egon ‘Grass’ resting near their spare horses.
“Rupert is here father,” Siske said kneeling near the gravely injured knight and then got up to stare his way with those large olive-green eyes. Rupert wanted to tell her not to worry, but he couldn’t.
This is what war does little sister. It takes, until there’s nothing left.
Rupert could couldn’t tell her that part also. He knelt next to his father’s laid body and Sir Reinir raised his right arm some to grab his at the wrist.
“You need… to attack out of the woods afore the sun is up,” his father told him in a whispery voice.
“We have enemy soldiers coming up from the south too,” Rupert explained. “They have us boxed in.”
“Start… with them.”
Great. “Ah, we’ll lose the cover.” Rupert griped and his father’s fingers pressed at his wrist.
“Let them have the woods,” Reinir grunted raising his voice some with difficulty, his breath coming out rugged. “Hit them when they immerge… the morning sun in their eyes.”
Rupert breathed out slowly. “We need to move you—”
“Ain’t going nowhere boy,” his father stopped him. Rupert heard Siske sniffle behind his back and grimaced. He was suddenly furious with Reinir and it took him a great effort not to lash out. “The Griffin will…” the old knight continued sensing his anger. “It shall ride out and brush our enemies aside. You’ll do it. I know… it’s not what you wanted,” he continued. “But this is the deal you’ll get. Make the most of it. We are what we are and the gods shall judge us... when the time comes.”
“Darn it,” Rupert grunted hoarsely and got up too-emotional to think clearly. “Can we get the blasted spearhead out?”
His father let his arm drop. “I can’t feel my legs after the blow. Had trouble with them… last couple of seasons. Everything kept locking up,” he told him with a grimace of pain. “It’s an affliction, I’m told. You… take care of William now. He’s a good boy, aye.”
“Oh, gods…” a devastated Siske gasped and then started sobbing, until their father stopped her.
“What’s gotten into you lass?” A troubled Sir Reinir asked hoarsely and then he was gone.
An injured Mathias Radler watched the grim-faced Rupert return near them with hawkish eyes. Rupert grimaced, then checked on his sword and armour. “Ready the men,” he told Mathias.
“Sir Reinir—”
“He’s dead,” Rupert cut him off. “But the Griffin isn’t. You’ll follow a Tellman Mathias?”
“Of course,” Mathias replied and clenched his jaw affronted at Rupert’s query. “What’s the plan milord?”
Not much of a plan.
“We’ll break out of the woods,” Rupert replied simply just as Siske approached them with Egon. His sister had the Iron Griffin’s helm in her arms and clutched at it desperately.
“Which direction?” The veteran man-at-arms queried gruffly.
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
“South,” Rupert grunted and turned to look at his sister’s serious face. “As soon as we bury my father.”
But we must work with the cards at hand.
Siske sighed and offered him the dented old helm. “You can have it,” Rupert told her in a rasping manner and she turned the offer down moving her comely face left and right.
“It’s too big for my head,” his sister had replied soberly, but without mincing her words. “But it’ll fit yours.”
-
Wim Luikens convoy fought a brief scrap just after midnight on the 28th by the riverside road defeating Tika Phanti’s Cataphracts and Tar Ota-Kmet’s Chariots. The clash was over as soon as it begun. Luikens used ‘Uher’s Light’ to break apart the Horselords night attack. No one survived the one-sided affair. The alchemist’s concoction, or weapon, leveled the playfield and what it didn’t pulverize, it burned. The fires cut through the walnut trees (East Grove) and spread on both sides of the road. The fire burned until it reached Chinos River’s banks.
The Golden Spears marched through the hellish landscape and continued towards Rita’s Inn, bringing Luikens artillery closer to the Khanate’s rear areas. A group under Inquisitor Vellers and Sande De Hove approached using darkness through the wooded area north of the road and Sir Albert Kosters led the convoy from the road itself, but at a slower pace.
Such was the roar of the explosion and the light from the burning forest, both Issirs and Horselords witnessed it from afar during the night. Sin Ota-Kmet mobilized and brought back his patrolling chariots during the night, amassing them for an attack against the church’s forces at first light, not wanting to risk another fight in the dark. He ordered the ailing Rumu to have his resting mercenaries ready to march with him as well. The worrying about the fate of his offspring Ota-Kmet intended to use them to secure the flanks for his riders.
Muvelo, he’d split his force to deal with the Nordic threat inside the Maple Thickets on the west side of the battlefield, ordered Sakir to issue spears to his archers and then use them as a blocking force to help his rangers. The latter had been tasked with flanking Mayer’s Northmen. Further to his west, the wrathful Sepa also prepared for an attack in order to break through Sir Joost’s and Krakauer’s Farvor Militia with first light.
Sir Joost’s men had finally discovered the injured but still breathing (miraculously) Baron Dan AredRavn on the inclines under broken corpses and animal carcasses. They brought him back between the Issir forces at the base of the plateau and then rushed him to the ‘west flank field hospital’ further to their rear. The delirious Baron Dan famously quipped to the first responders ‘I ain’t that badly scathed lads’ before collapsing, which earned him the moniker the ‘Unscathed’.
While Muda-Zeket ordered Gika to advance the Jang-Lu to meet up with the moving to attack Lord Grote’s 3rd Foot, he also ordered Taja to bring his division forward (about one thousand men) in order to soar up his east flank fearing an Issir breakthrough from the forest, which was perhaps a mistake. It is possible the Khanate general’s plans were to screen Rumen-Kot’s machines advance from the Pines Road and counted on Cephas Mirpur to clear out the flank and deal with the Issir field artillery.
No source is certain (or more accurate than the other) about the strategies of the day to a hundred percent. Luikens advance during the night had changed the dynamics of the whole battle. It is though generally agreed upon that the Khanate’s advantage in horses and heavy mobile units would eventually decide the whole affair especially in the plains, despite the Issir local advantage in artillery.
At Lord Anker’s late night war council everyone stood on edge. Luikens had broken out of Chinos Turn, but now on open terrain he’d come upon elite forces with a worn out host and the Khan’s slowly amassing reserves waiting behind the Mid Bridge. Sir Joost had to deal with ‘Kap’ Sepa, who despite failing to replace his horses during the night, had devastated the Issir infantry in many occasions in the past, and the Nords of Mayer had been trapped at the inner east flank by overwhelming forces by Muvelo. If the industrious Muvelo could intervene at any point the Issir center was in critical danger. Anker, who had already ordered Joris Sloot to assist the Nords, pressured Lord Grote to commit Kroneberg’s reserve 4th Division west to withstand a foray by the cunning Muvelo.
Everyone had written Pastelor’s men off since they had no word from them during the night, but just before sunrise the Khan’s Master of Slaves Bedas who had marched late the previous day to secure Sepa’s horses and provisions, got attacked out of the woods from Sir Rupert Tellman and his sister, the soon to be knighted, Siske Tellman.
The usually cautious Bedas was caught unprepared not expecting an attack by the trapped Issirs and his demoralized slave guards (they had suffered against Merenda some months back) got crashed and routed off the field. Dhouti sent his men inside the thin Copse at first light, but found no one there. The Horselords (Medium Horse and Horse Archers) traversed the treeline and burst out in the open after Rupert’s men. Unfortunately for them Sir Rupert hadn’t abandoned the field, but had just enough time to regroup and charge at Dhouti’s riders south of the gray beech copse. When the scrap was over Sir Rupert’s smaller force had won twice in a row despite the odds.
As a matter of fact the Iron Griffin’s hardened host of men hadn’t lost a cavalry engagement, which further fueled the probably deceased by that time knight’s legend. Despite efforts to play down the very distant small town’s contributions, it is undisputed that no one fared better that day against the Khan’s horses, than the brave men riding under the Griffin’s banner.
Sir Rupert -clad in his father’s easily recognized armour, or just the helm- opted to return and assist the neighboring Farvor’s force as much as he could, which turned out to be a critical point in the whole battle.
-
Rita’s Inn stables outer balustrades
East of the small Uher’s Temple and the hospice’s building
Early morning/morning of 28th
Inquisitor Vellers force arrives,
just as Wim Luikens begins shelling Ota-Kmet’s nearby camp*
*& adjacent areas
One of the two mounted mercenary patrolmen paused on the saddle and called on his friend to halt near the plinth fence. Not that far away a strange lighting had appeared, coming from the ground towards the clear sky, followed by a familiar boom.
Then another came, turned into a series of explosions, the flashes of light illuminating the skyline. The mercenary yelled something Sebastian missed, numerous candle lights appeared at the buildings windows and people were heard yelling.
The squire’s horse neighed nervously, when he walked after the others out of the woods, and the rest of their animals -left behind- soon followed its example, greatly disturbed by the nearby chain of rumbles. Maas Vellers who was at the front of their group, shadowed by the newly elevated to 4th Brother Hanno Merkel, gave the signal and Merkel turned around to let out a sharp triple whistle.
“Unholy crap,” Reinhart cursed running after the fast moving Sebastian. At least thirty Inquisitors bursting out of the woods and into open ground around the inn’s buildings. Everyone headed fast for the plinth fence’s wooden barriers. “I hoped for a trip sure,” the young man griped, amidst the sound of explosions and the mercenaries finally noticed them charging the fence.
The first rider was struck by three bolts and was thrown from his saddle like a rotten blanket. The second flailed his legs in a panic, spun his horse around, and raced toward the gates. However, not but a few meters later, a military hammer swooped in out of the Inquisitors ranks, smashed into the base of his skull and split it open. The horse continued to charge toward the closing gates, while gore mixed with a paste-like material that was the man’s thrashed brains, emptied down his back and the horse’s hind legs.
Sebastian arrived at the wooden gates just as Vellers vehemently kicked them open. He immediately stepped into the inn’s courtyard, but an arrow all but smacked him in the face. It did knock his helmet off and left an angry searing mark across his forehead. The squire staggered backward, while Reinhart, who had just moved beside him, was pierced through the left arm and got twirled sideways with an affronted grunt of pain.
Damnation! Sebastian cursed, spotting the archers lined up and firing arrows at them. Then a shield violently pushed over his shoulder to cover him. De Hove’s booming voice rang in his ears.
Almost blowing both Sebastian’s eardrums off.
“ONWARD!”
Uher’s sake!
Vellers roaring almost simultaneously.
“CHARGE AT THEM!”
“Just my wicked luck! I’m hit!” Reinhart bawled equally loud and dove behind De Hove's massive heater shield, which now protected all three of them. With a frustrated grunt, the stout Magister pushed Sebastian forward with the guard of his sword.
Sebastian sprang from his cover, running low with the pointed tip of his blade grazing the ground as he charged toward the archers. He closed the distance quickly, drawing nearer to the larger building. The mercenaries had poured out of the hospice, and by now most of them had abandoned their bows to grab melee weapons instead. Sebastian swung at the closest man, feeling as if he had been battling for a month straight, though it had only been just under twenty-four hours.
Or thereabouts.
Sebastian's slash carved the mercenary’s sides to the hipbone, but the man swung as he faltered backwards, caught the squire on the left shoulder and hurled him over a table. It felt like the blade grazed bone. The man raised his sword to finish off the struggling to stand Sebastian with a cut across the face, but the squire recovered and leaped from the crackling table to stab the Cofol in the throat, the tip of his blade angling upwards before exploding out of the man’s right ear.
The man spat a mouthful of blood, Sebastian almost fainted both from blood loss and the sight of the gruesome injury and then the south-facing outer wall of the building was blown inward. The force of the explosion –bricks, pieces of mortar and wood- going through the still standing corpse and then blasting Sebastian through a door and inside the main hall of the burning hospice.
What was left of it that is.
Sebastian rolled over smashed beds and broken chairs, cracked tiles and collapsed roof boards. He ended up amidst a pile of debris, three more mutilated bodies crashed under his own.
“Gah!” He coughed and attempted to stand, saw a splinter the size of a dagger just below his knee and went to get it out with his left hand, only to realize the arm was spraying blood about like a broken hose.
Sebastian put a hand on it, dropping his sword and then collapsed on his arse, shell-shocked, and with the sounds of heavy fighting still reverberating inside the hospice. It was a stray shot before the one that had catapulted him where he now stood disoriented that had brought most of the building down. For some reason Luikens’ engineers had panicked, and just completely lost sight of their targets.
“Bastian! Ah, shite. He’s gone,” Reinhart cursed sounding sad and Sebastian heard the young inquisitor stumbling near him. “Go with Uher friend—”
“I’m not dead,” Sebastian grunted with a glare, cutting him off midsentence.
“Bloody hell!” Reinhart recoiled with a curse. “First attempt to spring a proper prayer… eh, let me tie that up. Ay-ay-ay. Keep that hand there!” Rinehart exclaimed seeing the wound. “Sister!” He bellowed. “Leave him, save this one!”
An Issir nun approached, her white robes covered in dirt and dried up blood.
“I’ll stitch it with thick thread,” she told the gnarling Sebastian. “I’ve got nothing else.”
“He can take it Sister Rita,” Reinhart assured her. “Bless his heart. He’s the bravest man I know!”
“You boys destroyed my hospice,” Sister Rita told them, working on Sebastian’s wound with thread and needle. She was over forty, but despite her austere face, her eyes were kind and motherly. “Who are you fighting for?”
“Uher,” Reinhart replied and Sister Rita showed him the burning building and the ruins of the temple right next to it amidst the thick smoke.
“That’s Uher’s house you’ve ruined.”
“We fight… for Kaltha and the King,” Sebastian grunted, through his teeth.
“Ah,” the nun murmured with a glance in Sebastian’s sweating in agony face. “You squire for the Est Ravn?” She asked probably to distract him. “I noticed the Hydra.”
“Aye,” Sebastian groaned, when she pulled at the bloody string to tie it up and close the cut. “Sir Thor.”
Sister Rita smiled and stood up to glance at the approaching Vellers and Hanno Merkel.
“Anyone else here?” Vellers asked, his left arm badly maimed and not moving properly, what was left of it.
“They retreated,” Reinhart replied and the sound of more explosions rattled the ground.
“Back to the inn,” Merkel grunted, a wiry cold-eyed Issir.
“Who is responsible for this Brother?” Rita asked Vellers and he gestured for her to drop the matter.
“You’ll get compensated,” he told her. “Kelholt, we are forming a group to assist Luikens. They got themselves in trouble.”
“What happened sir?” Reinhart asked.
“Get moving Brother Kelholt,” Vellers hissed harshly and stared at Sebastian. “And you should get back to your unit squire.”
“Where is Priest Brukel?” Sebastian asked and got up with a grimace of pain. Vellers eyed him for a brief moment and then stared at Sister Rita.
“Same goes for you Sister,” he told her. “I’ve sent the rest of the Sisters to the rear. Nothing more to do here.”
“This is my home,” Rita told him. “I didn’t leave when the Horselords came, and I won’t leave now.”
“Suit yerself,” Vellers retorted. “Kelholt, be outside in two minutes,” he added and turned around to leave the ruined hospice climbing the smoking debris of the collapsed wall.
“That sounded bad,” Reinhart remarked and Sebastian made to give a nod, when without warning Sister Rita rushed to hug his shoulders tight.
Sebastian felt the nun’s body press on his and recoiled in shock, but her voice whispered in the squire’s ear, before he could move away.
“Nienke had a daughter.”
The nun had told the stunned and weirded out Sebastian.
What?
“Whoa, take it easy with the tight hug, dear Sister. This poor soul is still a virgin,” Reinhart remarked, raising an eyebrow in surprise. “Are you okay, Bastian?”
“Seek the priest knight of Midlanor,” Sister Rita instructed, her intense gaze fixed on the bewildered Sebastian.
“Alright then,” Reinhart replied, bemused and struggling to grasp the situation. Sebastian stumbled back, even more perplexed, and gazed at Sister Rita’s tense face. “This is getting a bit strange, even for me.”
“What do you mean?” Sebastian croaked as Reinhart pulled him away by his uninjured arm.
“The good Sister is just rambling,” Reinhart said, nudging Sebastian outside. “I think she lost her marbles.”
“How would you know?” Sebastian snapped, his head hurting him as much as the injured arm. Reinhart breathed out and then rubbed at his own bandaged arm with a grimace of pain.
“For a learned dude, you have some huge gaps in common knowledge my friend,” he told Sebastian. “The man she’s talking about, has been dead for years. Matter of fact,” Reinhart added just as they reached Vellers and the other Inquisitors gathered in front of the besieged inn. “He was killed a couple of kilometers from here.”
“What was that Kelholt?” Merkel barked gruffly.
“Praised be Uher, Brother Merkel,” Reinhart replied readily. “For us survivors must carry the burden.”
-
While both Sir Rupert’s (Issirs and Horselords alike thought the men were led by Reinir) and the Church’s actions at the flanks were successful and Taja’s men would soon get mercilessly bombarded by the Issir artillery in a horrible one-sided affair, not all of Khanate’s actions were a failure.
There are no ‘sure’ good rolls in a scrap, an injured Krakauer commented after the battle. But you might get a couple in a row. The moment you forget about the ‘sure’ part, ye get a smack in the mouth.
Inside the Maple Thickets Muvelo’s idea to issue spears to the (dismounted) Horse-Archers produced results. The archers stayed before the Nords for long enough (with their greater numbers) to give Muvelo’s rangers the chance to attack their east flank inside the woods. The fight turned ugly and right vicious. Little by little Muvelo and Sakir (despite not making progress against Kaasen and Joris Sloot) managed to whittle down Mayer’s men. Mayer went down after he got injured with a spear to the groin, killed the Cofol, but immediately was speared again repeatedly by several more opponents, once through the neck and twice in the chest, and perished. Gunnar was killed at some point (the Khanate’s men set the big Nord on fire according to one crazy story) as well, but the Northmen resistance never collapsed due to bravery, or fear for the Khanate’s reprisals. The scrap in the ‘Bloody Woods’ kept Muvelo and Sakir busy, the huge delay brought the Khanate’s general strategy and ability to use their force to protect their center dangerously behind.
Further to Muvelo’s west and on top the ‘West Porch’ plateau Kaphiri Sepa spent the night resting his overused horses and men. The respected Horselord, born in Rin An-Pur and member of a middling merchant family working the ports of Que Ki-La and Shao Na-Lan, Kaphiri ‘Kap’ Sepa had fallen in love with the Horselords old way of life at a young age. A dedicated equestrian, he hadn’t managed to join some of the bigger Khanate Lords Cataphract stables due to his family’s poor connections and petty antipathies. Burzin noticed his skill though and Sepa soon excelled as a leader (later trainer) of Lancers in many campaigns.
Some of Sepa’s maneuvering and attacks during the invasion of Kaltha had been excellent, but the night of the 27th to 28th of Sextus found him relatively isolated, with tired horses and against both horse and infantry that waited for him at the base of the incline. The Horselord also was mourning the loss of Rim-Sepa earlier that day at the hands of the Iron Griffin. Sepa had heard of Besa Nafi’s war council plans and didn’t trust Muvelo’s men to succeed.
‘By the Great Steppe’s Spirits, they are using the Horse-Archers in the worst manner possible,’ he told one of his lieutenants Lamar, lamenting the early loss of veteran leadership for the capable for great damage mobile force. It was true the Khan’s Horse Archers had been used very crudely by Muvelo for the whole campaign, despite the latter’s skills as a general.
Sepa decided to strike after the sun had gone up fully in order to lull the lined up men of Krakauer into a false sense of security, or even worried by events happening elsewhere in the battlefield. An hour after sunrise about three hundred and fifty horses appeared on the flat ridge and then started galloping down towards the Issir battleline. Sir Joost AredRavn had split his smaller cavalry force and placed it on the flanks of the Farvor Militia. He stood on the northern flank with sixty horse. Sir Arne Mair (the mayor’s son) and Leo Goetz were placed on the south with about thirty. Krakauer’s well over three hundred men were placed in the middle.
The Horselords descended covered in thick dust clouds and seemingly went straight for the teeth of the Issir formation. In reality Sepa’s –also split in three groups- attacking force moved at different speeds, with the center -Sepa was riding with the main group- slowing down as they came up against the Issirs and the flanks charging at full speed. Some of Sir Mair’s mounted men panicked –they were with Leo Goetz’s group that had encountered the Horselord the previous day- and galloped away. The young Knight was killed immediately and his men-at-arms were brought down.
Sir Joost fared –little- better, but he got attacked by a larger force –Sepa had spotted the discrepancy in numbers- and losing over ten men-at-arms in the initial clash, he too was peeled off the infantry’s right flank. The later after witnessing the quick one-two punch strike of the Horselords had a drop in morale. While some might blame not professional troops for the catastrophe, the truth of it was, Sepa had pulled a perfectly timed charge out of the hat. Rattled both infantry’s flanks (Lamar even turned inwards and attacked near the infantry’s left flank were Krakauer was), just a dragging moment before smashing their center.
Sepa’s lancers hurled themselves on the Issirs with a mighty Steppe roar ‘like devils coming out of the putrid smog’ and punctured Krakauer’s center splitting his force in two. The right blob of soldiers broke and run away very quickly, but got mowed down by Sepa’s angling pincers. Krakauer got trapped inside the south group and managed to hold on, until he realized that the men’s morale had plummeted. He ordered everyone to ‘move north’, fearing to issue a retreat, and about a hundred of Farvor’s soldiers managed to slip between the Horselords trying to regroup in the chaos that had followed their charge.
It is said that Sepa killed over two hundred men in less than five minutes, charging down a slope and poor ground against a setup battleline. It wasn’t the fact that he had all but wiped out AredRavn’s force (three fifths of it, as most of Sir Joost’s horse had escaped and less than a hundred men were with Krakauer) but that he had even attempted it in the first place. The audacity and pure bravery needed to pull it through awe-inspiring.
One of the roaming the rear Horse Archers (a small group of them had peeled off from Sakir’s main group at the Maple Thickets and had proceeded to perform small raids to Lord Anker’s rear reverting to their primitive ways), returned to the hastily regrouping his men Sepa to inform him that Muda-Zeket faced trouble in the center. It was an understatement. Muda-Zeket’s valuable heavy Halberd infantry was getting pummeled by Scorpio volleys by now.
Sepa faced an impossible dilemma at this point as he knew the Horselords animals were on their last legs after the charge –borderline incapable given they had been over a month on the road- for an immediate crossing of the breadth of the expansive battlefield and an attack to the Issir rear, let alone their more distant machines. A pressured Sepa ordered his riders to stop pursuing Sir Joost’s fleeing men and gather up. Whilst pondering on a way to remedy the situation, he sent out riders to find out about Sakir and Muvelo, or Dhouti’s whereabouts if possible. One of them reported twenty critical minutes later that ‘the accursed Iron Griffin got out of the woods unscathed’ and was now riding against Sakir’s rear areas.
So Sepa turned south to save Sakir instead of heading straight across and strike Kroneberg’s Division, or even Lord Anker’s field headquarters. Perhaps a desire to avenge the death of his son Rim and that of Dhouti played a role in it.
Leon Goetz small riding force that had looped around the Horselords to escape observed the Khanate general’s movements and reported everything to a livid with Goetz Sir Joost minutes later. The humiliated AredRavn spawn had managed to control his scattered force in the meantime, and then they both decided to ride after the slow-trotting to conserve his horses’ legs Sepa.
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28th noon