Shades of the Past_ Book Six of the Morcyth Saga - Brian S. Pratt [69]
Once the pockets of resistance have been nullified, he gathers all friendly forces together and marches down the road to meet the oncoming reinforcements of the enemy army. The brief look in James’ mirror had revealed roughly five thousand strong strung along several miles.
With just plains to contend with, there’s very little chance to orchestrate an ambush. They’ll know they are coming and will move into a defensive posture as soon as they realize what’s going on. That is if they don’t already.
From the road up ahead, two of the four scouts return at a fast gallop. “What’s the news?” questions Illan when they pull up to him.
“They’ve stopped about five miles down the road,” one scout explains as he rides beside him.
“Looks as if they got word of what happened here,” the other adds.
“How many?” Jiron asks.
“Five thousand foot soldiers,” the first scout replies.
“No horse?” asks Illan.
Shaking his head, the scout says, “Not that we saw. We returned with the news of their whereabouts and numbers, they were still arranging themselves to defend against attack.”
“Rejoin your unit,” Illan says as he thinks about what they just told him. No horse, just foot. Excellent. If as the scout said they still only have five thousand, then the numbers will be on their side by about two thousand. With the cavalry coming up behind them as well as the riders with Ceadric, they should be able to win the day.
It isn’t long before the enemy force comes into view. They’ve positioned themselves across the road, a massive block of heavy infantry with several hundred crossbowmen protected in the center. No matter which direction a force attacks from, the crossbowmen can easily decimate them.
When the enemy sees them on the road, they form their ranks tighter. The soldiers at the leading edge have long spears to use against any cavalry units that attack.
Stopping just out of crossbow range, Illan turns back to his men and says, “Form ranks, bows and slings to the rear.” As the men begin moving into formation for attack he takes his horse to the rear where the catapults are sitting.
The officer in charge comes to attention as he approaches. “Captain,” Illan says, “are we close enough to pepper them with grapeshot?”
“Yes, sir” he replies.
“Then as soon as you are ready, let them have it.”
“Yes, sir,” replies the captain. To his men he hollers, “Get them catapults into position and bring those wagons closer! We need to soften them up a bit so our delicate soldiers can go and be heroes.”
His men break into a laugh and quickly get the catapults into position. Once they’re ready, the men begin filling the catapult’s bucket with the grapeshot from the wagons. As soon as they are filled and ready, the Captain yells, “Let ‘em go boys!”
Five arms fling their deadly projectiles into the air. All of Illan’s forces hold their breath as the projectiles fly to their target and then let out a cheer as they begin ripping through the enemy soldiers. Even though most of the soldiers had lifted shields to protect themselves from the rain of death, several dozen men fall. The crossbowmen, without the benefit of the shields fall in droves.
A command is given within the enemy force and they surge forward to attack, not willing to simply stay in one position and be stoned to death. “Once more if you will captain!” Illan hollers.
The catapult crews work quickly and soon have the arms back in position and their buckets filled. “Now!” he cries as the five catapults let loose. The grapeshot flies over the heads of Illan’s force and rips once again through the attackers. Men fall as stones smash heads, crush arms and legs, and just about every other portion of the body as well.
When their crossbowmen reach effective range, they stop and begin firing