‘Well, emulate it then.’ Vrill pointed at the left flank of the open ground, where the ranks of enemy abutted the long defensive ditch. ‘We’ve heard enough of the strength of Chetse warriors; now it’s time to prove it. Reform your legion, forty ranks deep, and punch through the enemy. Add whatever remains of the Flamestone Legion to extend your front ranks and conceal your depth.’
‘Just us?’
‘Not alone.’ Vrill assessed the two Menin heavy infantry legions briefly. ‘The Second Tocar Legion on your right flank, the First behind you. We’ll move up the line to widen the breach.’ He gestured towards a hairless mage with unnaturally pale skin hovering nearby. ‘Lord Styrax intends to penetrate the line behind the fort - let us show him how it’s done.’
Tachrenn Lecha bared his teeth and jerked his axe up into his hands. Heading back towards his men the Chetse called back to Vrill, not caring who else could hear, ‘Tsatach’s chosen people will show you all.’
CHAPTER 37
Osh watched a line of shadow sweep from the north over the Narkang lines as a bank of cloud drew in. The late morning sun was again hidden as the king’s mages kept the threat of a storm close to dissuade Lord Styrax from employing his wyvern.
‘Enemy advancing,’ called one of his aides, hurrying up from his position at the ditch, ‘Menin legion in deep order on the left. Chetse legion tight to them, and more Menin approaching the ditch directly.’
Osh hissed a curse as he turned to wave forward more troops. ‘Major, take your troops and brace the left flank — shoulders in their backs, man.’ He pointed to where he wanted them, and didn’t wait to watch them go. He walked to the aide’s station at the ditch: there was a division of archers on the right of the Chetse, then a gap of fifty yards before two legions of infantry in Byoran colours. He could see they carried more bridges to throw across the ditch; many of their front rank were using them as shields against the continuous arrow-fire.
Daken appeared at his side, clapping a massive hand on the ageing warrior’s shoulder. ‘Not getting enough action at the back, eh?’
‘I’m trying to work out if they’ve got anything more up their sleeves than brute force.’
‘Force works fer me. Strongest man wins, that’s the way o’ things,’ Daken declared.
They watched the enemy approach at a steady tramp. They wouldn’t want to be running more than two hundred yards in heavy armour, however quickly they wanted to cover the ground. The Menin approached with spears ready to be levelled, hunched down behind their shields, while the Chetse carried shields only in their front ranks, to protect the majority while they closed for the kill.
At seventy yards, Osh suddenly felt a cold ball of dread appear in his stomach. The Chetse legion had angled unexpectedly, just as they were readying to charge, moving ahead of the slower Menin. Suddenly the right hand side of their line faltered and Osh realised what they were up to: the Chetse were in deep formation, massed on one side behind a standard front rank. The effect of the men of the right halting slanted the legion’s advance so when the charge was sounded, they were coming at an angle.
‘Merciful Gods,’ Osh breathed.
For once Daken had nothing to add. He pointed with his axe to the alarmed aides behind them. ‘Summon the reserves, everyone you can — now!’
There was little time for anything more. A great roar came from the Chetse legion as they gathered pace, their shield line intact and closing. Osh felt the rumble of their feet through the ground: fifty yards, now thirty . . . The pikemen lowered their weapons to present a spiked wall, but now the pikes weren’t pointing directly at the enemy.
Osh looked around as enemy arrows began to fall and the Byoran troops marched steadily towards him. He stood only twenty yards from the end of the ditch and felt as much as heard the impact as the Chetse collided with their line. It rang out like a long peal of thunder, distantly building before crashing against his ears.
The ranks shuddered visibly, and a dozen men in the final rank were thrown from their feet as the force was transmitted back through the press of bodies. Any screams were drowned out by the clatter of weapons and the bloodthirsty bellows of the Chetse . . . then it went suddenly and