Arcane Mercenaries: Insurrection, page 18
Not stop, Grant thought. They needed a new target. From the position the duke once held, they could see the battle lines stretched before them. Infantry maneuvered on both sides, and horses prepared to charge. Grant glanced at the infantry and archers they left behind on the rise.
They could still issue and relay orders with flags. Someone had to be watching their prince’s race across the fields.
“We can still win this, Dominick,” Grant shouted, urging his horse to greater speed. “We know where the duke is going, but your forces need you.”
Dominick released his grip on the reins and slowed his steed to catch its breath. As they slowed to a walk, the prince grit his teeth, and anger flashed in his eyes. He wasn’t mad at Grant, but the mercenary was the closest available target.
“He got away. We’ll lose,” Dominick said.
Grant turned the young man toward the battling lines. The archers he led into the low stone wall loosed another volley into the center of the duke’s lines. Units wavered under the deadly barrage, and the first stragglers broke ranks toward the rear. The accompanying infantry formed a square and shouted a challenge to any who dared advance toward them.
Dominick’s infantry and ranged units had similar success on the opposite side of the lines. They didn’t have the same range and capabilities as Dominick’s legendary archers with their longbows, but the results were similar. They pressed their advantage for the best results and drove their opponents back into the center lines.
Fear was a deadly disease on the battlefield. It was invisible and contagious, and the duke had few leaders to stop its spread.
“Raise the flag,” Grant said. “Let the nobles have their moment. Unleash your knights.”
“They’ll die, Grant. We’re outnumbered three to one, and the duke got away.”
“Half of them will run when they see the charge. Those that remain to fight will get a lance in the face or a sword across the head, and the rest will run. Push hard from the flanks.”
Dominick’s features softened with the encouragement, and his military mind took over as he analyzed the possibilities. A grin tweaked the corner of his mouth.
“What’s our plan?” he asked.
“See that command element trying to take control of the battlefield?” Grant pointed to a cluster of mounted officers with flags carried by aides. “I think it’s time to let them know which side they should choose.”
“Raise the flag,” Dominick ordered.
Several riders reached into their saddlebags and withdrew the next signal. Grant didn’t think they would need more commands when they planned this operation, but Ez was insistent. If they had an opportunity to press the attack, they had to have a way to get the entire force to execute.
Flags snapped overhead, and Grant looked toward the flanking infantry to see if they picked up the message. He didn’t want to lead a charge into the back of the army with only fifty riders while the rest fought in pockets along the front lines.
More flags popped up along Dominick’s battling infantry lines, and Ez and Grant turned toward the line of knights waiting in the distance. Pennants snapped upwards in recognition of the command, and the cavalry charge reformed into a steel line.
Dominick’s archers on both flanks loosed another volley into the ranks turning to face the knights. Steel heads drove through armor to maim, wound, and kill the duke’s forces. Non-commissioned officers screamed at their soldiers to hold their position and fill the gaps. Sergeants paced the line and pushed their charges forward to ground the butts of their spears.
The armored horses shifted into a canter, and the duke’s first soldiers turned and ran. Officers used the flat of their blades to drive the individuals back into position before the trickle turned into a torrent. Sergeants grabbed others by the collar and threw them toward the wavering positions.
Dominick’s infantry advanced from their positions on the flanks, shouting their battle cries as they moved forward at double time. Unit flags flew as they charged forward to meet their destiny.
“You should be proud,” Ez said to Dominick. His eyes wandered in the direction of the fleeing duke. He wanted to be hot on the man’s heels to end this battle, but Ez brought him back to the moment.
“Let’s capture the commander and secure the military victory,” Grant said. He pointed at the gathering of officers trying to issue orders to stand their ground. If they stayed in place, they could throw off Dominick’s attack.
Armies that fled took heavy losses as their opponents cut them down from behind.
Dominick drew his blade and swung it over his head. The fifty cavalry soldiers with him shouted in response and drew their sabers. Grant smiled and pulled his steel free of its leather sheath.
Ez drew her blade and shrugged. “Out of powder. Might as well be useful.”
Grant laughed the hearty laugh of a man ready to dive back into battle and test his skills. He lived on the edge of death, and if they captured the commander, they could claim a decisive victory.
The Kingmaker might run free, but Dominick was about to destroy his military base.
Grant admired the courage of the heavy knights as they dropped their lances into position and prepared to ride through the infantry. Soldiers ran from the pounding charge, and the flagging lines wouldn’t stand the initial impact.
With all eyes on the inevitable clash, Dominick, Grant, Ez, and their accompanying soldiers rode half the distance toward their new target. They were only a hundred yards away before an aide turned to face the new threat.
Dominick spurred his horse to a gallop as the duke’s senior leaders drew their blades, readied their shields, and kicked their horses forward to meet the threat. The leaders of both armies rushed toward each other with ready weapons and loyal soldiers.
A commander fighting for their life wasn’t leading troops or making battlefield decisions. Grant didn’t witness the crash of the armored horses through the scattered infantry struggling to maintain position. He fought to keep Dominick alive as he slashed at his opponents.
No one controlled the maneuvers on either side as the battle degenerated into single combat for survival. Weapons swung, and soldiers grunted. Bodies fell to the ground, and the wounded begged for mercy from the opposing side. It didn’t matter what a soldier believed or which uniform they wore; when they clashed in the muck of battle, those things didn’t matter.
Everyone fought to survive.
Dominick and his cavalry outnumbered the enemy command team two to one as their blades crossed in a farmer’s field. Hooves churned up the damp earth and flung clods to the sides. Steel smashed against steel, sending chunks of metal flying from the horse-driven impact.
Soldiers threw aside their broken weapons and reached for whatever else was available. The duke’s leadership team realized Dominick’s cavalry outmatched them. It didn’t hurt that Grant and Ez wielded their powers with unmatched ferocity, cutting through the bodyguards and aides that thought to protect their leaders.
“I surrender, Prince Dominick.” The leader’s voice echoed strangely within his helm.
Dominick withheld his next blow and accepted the man’s sword readily. The others soon followed by handing off their weapons to the prince, and the young man glowed with pride at the growing collection of swords at his horse’s hooves.
The duke’s army shattered under the impact from every direction, and soldiers streamed toward the nearby villages and filled the roads to escape the rebels. Officers and nobles that couldn’t escape surrendered to the closest officer and expected leniency.
“Not a bad day,” Ez said as she watched Dominick’s soldiers accept surrender and corralled the survivors. They understood the importance of leading after the war; some might even know these soldiers.
“Not the one I wanted,” Dominick said. “The duke is the key, not the army. The queen can get another army, but she needs to know I can attack any of her supporters.”
Dominick’s squire, dressed as the prince, rode through the last pieces of the battle. He had Catrin by his side, and she looked worse for the wear of using her magic to aid their struggle.
“We didn’t get the duke,” Catrin said, accusing Grant of the failure.
“He let his lieutenants fight and left as soon as he realized the threat. Too far for any of us to do anything about it,” Grant said. Why was he so defensive around that woman?
“Why are we waiting here? To let the duke summon another army or escape to the queen?” she asked.
“We ride at once,” Dominick said. He only paused long enough to issue orders for his nobles to take command of the surrounding forces and issue ransom for the others if they would not choose sides. He was eager to chase after the duke.
Grant looked over the battlefield. It was a notable victory over a powerful foe. He worried about the sheer numbers of the duke’s army. If they gathered their strength and turned on their pursuers, the battle would become a defeat.
Grant and Ez shared looks that indicated they had the same doubts, but they prepared to ride after the future king.
33
AMBUSH
Prince Dominick rode at the head of a small detachment, the Arcane Mercenaries and his closest advisers in tow. He sat tall atop his snorting stallion, its white coat gleaming in the sunlight. His team followed close behind, their horses hammering clods of dirt and grass into the ground as they galloped past defeated soldiers that hurried off the trails and stared in awe. The young prince’s expression was set like steel, determination to achieve victory against the Icy Queen radiating from him in waves. His team shared his energy and purpose, their faces masks of concentration as they raced onwards.
“You had one job to do, Grant,” Catrin said. “Capture the duke.”
Dominick had no illusions that he would race and capture the powerful duke on the road. Even after the defeat of his powerful host, the Kingmaker had vast resources at his disposal and wouldn’t be easy prey. Dominick ordered frequent stops for their horses and gathered news from the locals.
Catrin confronted Grant at the last stop before they made camp. He knew this reprimand was coming, but she was seething as she kept her voice down.
“Battles don’t go the way we plan. Never do; never will,” Grant said.
Why was she always mad at him? Grant didn’t let his frustration reach his features. That would only fuel her anger.
“Do you ever do what I ask?” Catrin said, her anger nowhere near spent as she paced in front of him. Dominick’s bodyguard awkwardly glanced away from the confrontation.
“If you weren’t always so cryptic and mystical, then maybe more people would get things done for you,” Grant said.
He wasn’t going to take this now. Dominick earned a resounding military victory over the duke’s forces. He captured dozens of nobles that would change sides or sit under house arrest until they paid their ransom. The militias went home, but many soldiers would switch sides, swelling the young prince’s ranks with fresh soldiers who longed to be part of a winning side.
“You were supposed to capture the duke. That wasn’t clear enough?”
“What’s this really about, Catrin?” Ez asked. She glanced at the soldiers trying not to look like they were paying attention. “Grant delivered Megenland and Rosestrand, captured the foundries, and helped win a decisive battle. Usually, there’d be a medal or two with a big speech right about now.”
Catrin turned her gaze on Ez but clamped down until the side of her jaws would burst. She fought and regained her composure.
“I’m worried,” Catrin said. “I sense different plans tugging on the strings of time. Dominick, the queen’s, the cardinal’s, Delaunay’s, the Tul, and yours.”
“Ours?” Grant asked.
Catrin nodded. “It all links back to StarFall. Those fragments shattered so many events into the smallest pieces. I’m never quite sure which to follow.”
“I thought your powers involved the weather,” Ez said.
“They are,” Catrin said, her voice low. She wasn’t confrontational now and looked toward her horse, ready to ride away from this discussion.
“You can see the future?” Grant asked in a whisper. “No Touched has that ability.”
“It’s not an ability. Nothing like the powers you and Esmerelda share,” Catrin said. “It’s an affinity. Tugs, pulls, pushes, bad feelings. It’s the tiniest whispers resonating inside us, a longing to fill our place in life.”
“What’s your place?” Grant asked. The earlier confrontation about the duke was a forgotten memory already. One of the most potent StarTouched people in the kingdoms was ready to share her secret about StarFall; Grant had hunted for this information for over a decade.
Catrin gave a sad smile and shook her head. “It’s not my place to discuss, Grant. It’s yours.”
Leather creaked, and horses whinnied as soldiers climbed back into the saddle. Dominick didn’t care that the StarTouched discussed the dark nature of their abilities without him, but he was interested in capturing his prize.
Catrin didn’t glance back at Grant and Ez as she moved back to her horse and jumped back in the saddle. She joined the departing riders and didn’t share more of her wisdom.
“What are the chances we get to finish that talk?” Ez said as she stared at the departing riders.
Grant grunted and pulled himself back into the saddle. He nudged his horse into motion and raced to catch up. Catrin had to give them more. Grant wanted to know more about the future but desperately needed to know who she was.
He didn’t get a chance as they rode for another day. The duke hurried across his lands, swapping horses and resting little to escape Dominick’s relentless pursuit. People spoke freely about their duke racing through the fields, and all reports pointed back toward his palatial estate in the countryside. Catrin stayed at the prince’s side and avoided all contact with the mercenaries.
Duke Ardwick’s estate was both a palace and a castle. It was the hereditary home of his family, built over centuries with their deep coffers, broad political influence, and success of their industries. Manicured gardens, including a hedge maze, surrounded the facility, and Grant guessed foresters and hunt masters stocked these pockets of woods for hunting.
Packs of dogs howled from a nearby kennel, eager for the hunt with the smell of so many horses. The kennel masters wisely stayed inside and controlled their beasts. None in Dominick’s party wore the queen or the duke’s colors, and a group of mounted soldiers meant trouble. Nearby villages were also buttoned up, with no citizens in the fields or tending to their chores.
Catrin surveyed the carefully crafted landscape of the Ardwick family with an anxious eye, searching each nook and cranny for possible attackers. Grant shared her worry as he looked on.
The curtain wall towered forty feet high, with crenelations spaced along its entire length. Round towers another dozen feet higher than the walls jutted toward the arriving group and formed the corners of a stout gatehouse. Round and square towers soared even higher into the sky, standing as sentinels along the wall in directions of likely attack.
From their position riding toward the lowered wooden drawbridge, he could make out the stone palace of uniformly yellowed stone just beyond the dull gray walls. The back of the palace made up the back section of the wall as it loomed over the cliffs overlooking the slow-moving river below.
The drawbridge was down, and no crossbows or spears glinted at the top of the walls. No cannon poked out from the top floor of the towers, and no flags hung from any pole along the towers or the palace.
Grant didn’t like it at all.
If Duke Ardwick retreated to his estate, it would be ready for siege and defended by his most loyal soldiers and best mercenaries. The walls would be bristling with weaponry to fight off exactly what Dominick was planning to do.
Dominick slowed the party and scanned the walls for signs of defense. Besides the braying dogs nearby, there were no signs of life in the castle. Even the chimneys didn’t have fires burning within. The young prince steeled himself and continued the advance.
Their horses clopped over the wooden drawbridge, and the group advanced toward the open gates. Grant peered upwards at the mechanisms holding the portcullis in place and prayed no one readied boiling oil in the murder holes above them as they passed through the gatehouse. They continued their walk through the defenses and entered the grand courtyard in front of the duke’s palace.
A cobblestone oval led to the palace’s front door, perfect for carriages and fine horses to get a broad view of the north face of the palace. Arched windows covered the first three floors of the structure. Each stone emplacement consisted of four or more pieces of fine glass. If the south side and upper levels were for defense, the north-facing lower floors presented the wealth of a powerful family.
Grant checked the battlements on this rooftop that stared down into the courtyard’s cut grass and cobblestone path. His spine tingled as he looked up into the upper floors of the palace, finding no one.
Dominick swung his leg out of his saddle, a bodyguard grabbing the reins. Catrin followed the prince’s lead and joined him at his side. As Grant joined the small dismounted group, Ez held her musket at the ready position.
Before the rest of the group could join the prince, the main door to the palace swung open on oiled hinges. A man wearing a white wig, a tailored jacket with two rows of brass buttons and tails, polished shoes with brass buckles, and white gloves walked down the two stairs. He bowed deeply from the waist.
“Prince Dominick, I presume?” He didn’t wait for confirmation. “His Grace, Duke Henry Ardwick, asks for your immediate surrender. He promises to treat you with utmost respect and courtesy.”
The servant delivered the words with perfect tone, but he shook with the effort of staring down the Bastard Prince, the Mage of the Mists, and the Arcane Mercenaries. It was quite the job for a steward.
