Chapter 15

Horns sounded on the Rachtelinian side, and the ranks of pikemen supported by mounted archers began an advance. The swordsmen and foot archers made their way to the wings of the advance to guard the flanks as a steady drumbeat began, and the army marched in lockstep, with pikes lowered in the centre and aimed straight at the mercenary rearguard.

On the mercenaries’ right wing, the Rachtelinian lancers savagely slew anyone who ran or opposed them as a stream of arrows flew over their heads to panic the routing mercenaries further. Darras and the Elves under Bindine moved forward too, Darras being guided by Erren to where champions of Colanthus were trying to form a defensive perimeter to enable the bulk of their army to cross the bridge. The Rachtelinian commanders also emulated this tactic as any forming resistance found a hail of arrows falling on that position.

The situation became even worse for the mercenaries when a squadron of mounted archers got to within range of the bridge, dismounted and began sending volley after volley of arrows onto the panicking mercenaries crossing it. Fighting became savage as the mercenaries were trapped and most of their commanders were dead or had fled, leaving no one to offer a surrender. All the champions of Colanthus were dead or badly wounded, and despite casualties, it was clear the Rachtelinians had won the day.

‘They have no one in command now, ’ Erren informed Darras. ‘This looks likely to be a massacre.’

“Unless the Rachtelinians can take the bridge, yes, that will likely happen,” Darras agreed.

Jertin, though, had considered this, and a swiftly assembled column of armoured swordsmen supported by archers launched a vicious assault from the side of the archers, targeting the bridge and punching through the struggling mercenaries to block off access to the bridge and force the mercenaries back. Realising they were surrounded, the mercenaries in the centre began calling for quarter, a shout gradually taken up by those still fighting until a lull came upon the battlefield.

“Any champions left?” Darras asked Erren.

‘Four, all badly wounded, ’ Erren replied. ‘Sorry, three, one just passed on.’

“I somehow doubt they’ll be much trouble now,” Darras nodded as he and the Elves moved to join Jertin as he approached the front of the Rachtelinian lines.

“Butcher’s bill?” Jertin asked his commanders while waiting for the mercenaries to select a delegation.

“Over a thousand, mostly in the centre where their knights hit,” an officer replied.

“When we have a full total, let me know,” Jertin sighed. “We’ll be busy tonight writing letters to the families of the fallen.”

“Sir!” the officers replied.

“Darras, my friend, I take it you were successful?”

“I was, Jertin, three remain, all badly wounded,” Darras replied. “Erren tells me they have no healers left as they remained in the rear and were able to flee with what’s left of their higher command.”

“I see,” Jertin nodded. “Well, we’ll send this lot east as soon as possible, and they can ship north from Lucil.”

“No parole?”

“I doubt they could afford it,” Jertin chuckled humourlessly.

“True,” Darras nodded. “My and Erren’s condolences on your losses.”

“A hefty blow,” Jertin replied. “Though, as I did not dare prepare the battlefield, it was not totally unexpected.”

“Aye, hooding their horses was a callous if effective manoeuvre,” Darras agreed.

“It was, it was,” Jertin sighed. “Ah, it looks like they’ve decided on the who and what. Let’s go see how this plays out.”

Darras, Jertin, and a few of his officers rode out to where a group of the mercenaries stood holding a white banner. Darras had been given a horse by one of the officers who was not participating. The mercenaries were dressed in various fashions and colours, each presumably representing a company or band.

“We wish to know what terms you can offer,” a grizzled sergeant requested after the Rachtelinians dismounted.

“Surrender your arms and we’ll send in priests and healers,” Jertin replied. “You’ll then be marched east to Lucil to wait for shipping north.”

“No ransom?”

“Do you have enough for one?”

“Er ... no, we don’t, though I guess you’ll take the gleanings from the dead,” the sergeant replied.

“We will,” Jertin confirmed. “You’ll also sign a waiver promising to participate in no further hostilities against us.”

“Don’t suppose you’ll accept any volunteers to make up your losses,” a young lieutenant asked, getting a few frowns from the lower ranks.

“Not for this war, no,” Jertin replied, surprised. “Anyone who is fit and wishes to volunteer can be marched south to Rachtelin following our supply line.”

“I’ll pass the word around, though I expect most will just be glad to get home.”

“As expected,” Jertin replied.

“We accept your terms, most generous of you,” the sergeant replied, after getting nods from the rest.

“I’ll send the healers in,” Jertin nodded. “Ensure their safety.”

“Aye, we will.”

“Generous of you,” Darras said to Jertin as they rode away.

“The overall plan is to leech Fordel of its largesse, I doubt they’ll be willing to pay for more mercenaries now,” Jertin replied.

“I somehow doubt that they would be of the best quality, or willing,” Darras chuckled.

“Likely not, my friend,” Jertin nodded. “Join me later for a skin of wine, I have much to do in the meantime.”

“Be a pleasure, Jertin.”

The news of the defeat reached Fordel within two days, causing an emergency meeting of the full council. Nor was Caminas best pleased when he recognised several within the chamber that he had banned from attending.

“The mercenaries failed to stop the Rachtelinians,” Rogas announced to the silent full council. “Decisions are now needed as to where we go from here.”

“Did not the holy Netas assure us the golden goddess would intervene on our behalf?” Prilsko, a personal enemy of Caminas, asked rhetorically.

“I can only assume the mercenaries offended her somehow,” Caminas snapped.

“Or she simply disapproves of your actions,” Prilsko snidely rebutted.

“How dare you!” Caminas thundered.

“Was it not a relevant question?” Prilsko asked, getting several nods of agreement from various council members. “After all, you deposed the former Netas, took advantage of the death of your predecessor and assumed control of both civil and priestly state functions, and failed to defend Fordel.”

“Are you questioning the word of the golden one?” Caminas asked ominously.

“Her word, no. Your word, yes,” Prilsko replied forcefully. “I call for a conclave!”

“Out of the question!” Caminas thundered. “Your questioning of her would anger the golden one!”

“A chance I’m prepared to take, after all the mysterious deaths of Zanthrul and Naxxos have yet to be fully explained by you, Caminas,” Prilsko calmly replied. “I suspect you had them murdered because the golden one ordered an unpalatable, for you, demand.”

“Your lies merely prove why you were banished, Prilsko!” Caminas yelled.

“I suspect it was more for questioning your actions, Caminas,” Prilsko retorted. “I call for a conclave as is my right.”

“A vote is called for,” Rogas stated, getting a look of utter hatred from Caminas. “Those for a conclave, raise your hands.”

In the now silent chamber, a majority of the priests raised their hands, and a conclave was announced. Caminas stormed out of the chamber in an utter fury, only to find himself facing several armed guards of the Merchant Guild.

“I’m afraid I must insist you attend,” Prilsko said to the stunned Caminas. “Please ensure he is disarmed, guard captain.”

“You will pay for this!” Caminas spluttered as the guards removed a poisoned blade from his belt.

“I somehow doubt it,” Prilsko sneered. “I’m not the one who has potentially wrecked this country.”

The priests, guards and a now-bound and struggling Caminas walked to the central sanctum where Prilsko placed a golden coin upon the raised stand and bowed his head in prayer. To the surprise of all, Prilsko had barely uttered a word when a clearly angry Darmela appeared.

“Foolish mortals, your actions have wrought great harm to my temple and my name!” Damela iterated in harsh tones. “You, Caminas, murdered my high priest as he brought my instructions to negotiate with the Rachtelinians before Fordel was further stripped of wealth!”

“I ... I thought he lied, golden one,” Caminas bleated.

“Murder is forbidden, fool of a priest!” Darmela said in icy tones. “You deposed my anointed Netas and took his title for yourself, and Fordel will now pay a grievous price for your idiocy!”

“What must we do, golden one?” Prilsko asked.

“Negotiate in good faith with the Rachtelinians,” Darmela replied. “Permit the temple of Erren to be restored, return the national treasures of Rachtelin and be prepared to dig deep to pay them to leave!”

“Anything else, golden one?”

“I am greatly angered by you, my people. I set you rules and edicts in my word only to see you twist them far beyond common morality,” Darmela replied. “You murdered the priests of another temple in my name! You lied, cheated, and stole in my name, saying that only agreements with fellow Darmelans were legal!”

“But, but...” an aghast Rogas began. “You did not object!”

“I was never asked!” Darmela thundered back. “I held off my wrath, hoping that you, my people, would eventually repent before disaster struck!”

“And now it has,” Prilsko said into the silence.

“It has indeed, this is your reward for ignoring common morality and treating others not of my faith as somehow lesser.”

“We repent,” Prilsko replied.

“In future, once a year. The conclave will gather here and summon me, and you will hear my word as I judge you,” Darmela commanded. “Disappoint me again, and Fordel will not receive my blessing.”

“It shall be as you command, golden one,” a sweating Prilsko acknowledged.

“Good, now set things right with the Rachtelinians and Errenites.”

“Incarcerate this fool,” Prilsko pointed to Caminas after Darmela had faded away, leaving the golden coin intact. “Send a herald to the Rachtelinians requesting talks, and let us hope they heed our request.”

“At once, Prilsko,” Rogas replied.

“Contact the Merchant Guild and request a meeting, the former Netas is to be restored, and they need to know just how badly this will cost Fordel.”

“Will they help?” Nimon asked.

“If they want the Rachtelinians to leave, yes,” Prilsko replied. “I’ll need an audit of the treasury, though I suspect we may be stripping the walls of the gold they are plated with.”

“Blasphemy!” one of the priests, a supporter of Caminas, shouted.

“It’s just gold, if we regain Darmela’s favour, we’ll eventually replace it,” Prilsko snarled in exasperation. “But now our priority has got to be getting rid of the Rachtelinians!”

“So shall it be,” Rogas and Nimon replied as most of the council acquiesced.

‘The Fordelians wish to negotiate as the former high priest has fallen, ’ Erren informed Darras.

“In good faith?” Darras asked.

‘Yes, they have been admonished by Darmela, and their Merchant Guild has reluctantly fallen into line.”

“I take it they realise it won’t come cheap?”

‘They do, and Darmela admonished them over their past behaviour, including a current threat of withdrawing her favour should they not comply and reform, ’ Erren explained.

“She really must be worried,” Darras smiled.