CHAPTER 14 – DELIBERATION
Barrad’s new command and reconstruction of the army had not gone down well. The men obviously had an uneasy fear of him, which in some ways was useful, as a general’s presence should instil a little fear into his men. It made them quick to react to his orders and less likely to feel that there was room for discussion. Yet his ultimate aim would be to try and gain the men’s respect and trust, as they would fight better fuelled with their pride rather than forced by fear. Fear had a way of spreading deep into the places where it was not desired. The larger issues with the troops’ attitude came when he had needed to dismiss one of the three original generals that had held command. During the hours of debriefing and questioning on his arrival it had been quickly apparent to him that Onus was not a natural leader of men. He was well liked by his men as he had always tried to avoid confrontation. He had the opportunity to crush the enemy’s advance parties at several points during their invasion, but he had instead chosen to withdraw back to this lightly fortified position. It was apparent that he was the result of mandatory staff promotion in the senior officer class during the years of peace and lacked the foresight and judgement needed to make a swift and sensible decision.
This had been a setback to his aim with the men. Although a general should never needlessly risk his men, sometimes a decision that would cause the immediate loss of lives to some, could later hasten the end of a war. It was inevitable that men were going to die during the course of a campaign so why not for achieving a goal. His time with the Su-Katii had taught him that if such decisions are taken, they should only be made when there is a distinct advantage to be gained. This was the difference between a good commander and a butcher. In war, lives were like a currency in which one should deal carefully. A good leader would make such decisions, but Onus had clearly shown that he was not one of these generals. The man was just too weak and inexperienced for the burden of command, bearing in mind that these were not forced levies; all were professional soldiers, paid to fight and possibly die for their country. The problem that he now faced after his dismissal of the general, was that Onus’ attitude had spread to the men, who were now convinced that a butcher was at the helm. He knew it would not be long before the desertions began and punishing deserters would also deal a huge blow to the men’s morale, because seeing a comrade’s feet swinging from a jib is not the best way to keep a credible fighting force in check.
These decisions weighed heavily on his shoulders and the situation could easily spiral out of control. Therefore, in an attempt to win the men over he went against the years of teaching and wisdom stamped into him and everything that he had ever been taught about the devil making work for idle minds. He gave the army the day off, rotating the men through a short leave period in Monaki. The town of Monaki stood high on a mountain plateau commanding a fantastic view of the lowlands and army camped several hundred yards below. The bulk of the Tanarian army was camped along the crest and slopes of a single track that wound its way down from the plateau. Pockets of flat ground about the track provided enough ground to pitch tents against the cold gales. There were two further goat-tracks that traversed different routes to the ground below, but only the primary track could sustain horse drawn carts for resupply or trade. Barrad had known that most of the troops were native to this mountainous region, it was known as the Black-rocks and this would give them one last chance to say goodbye to their loved ones or a greeting to the plentiful barmaids and whores of Monaki. He hoped this action of generosity would raise morale and maintain the army’s headcount - or at least distract them, for every other idea that he had contemplated would surely result in an unacceptable loss of headcount or fighting spirit. Tamar’s last report had the enemy still several days’ march away giving them a small reprieve. Besides there was a method in his madness, if the bulk of the men all went up into the plateau it would make the only three tracks out of the mountains easier to monitor.
His battle plan had been hatched in his overactive mind after the first night at his new command, he had no intention of seeking glory by marching his force into the open plains below to fight a pitched battle against a mixed force that vastly outnumbered them. Oh – no. The six thousand men under his command would be reorganised into four groups to defend the three mountain passes that meandered up into the high grounds and town above; one force for each pass with the fourth as a reserve. The two smaller passes would require a force of no more than two hundred men to control them, as only a maximum of four men could pass at any time, they should easily be able to hold the ground without relief for a week. It was the large valley path that initially presented the biggest headache to his plan. This track was steep and it zigzagged its way up the side of the natural ravine, the large flat areas along the track had originally been cut into the black rock face to provide passing points for wagons on route to the town. Barrad had walked up and down the main track several times, studying every twist and turn to learn the ground on which he was likely to fight - in the hope of finding any advantage. His moment of inspiration had occurred during his third hike up the trail, when he stopped to view the valley below. A squad of troops involved in physical training hailed their respect and continued their jog upwards past him along the track. After finishing his assessment of the valley below he turned back to the path and noticed that the natural slope of the path soon hit a short horizon as it twisted, the legs of the squad of troops running up the hill were now hidden behind the camber of the path.
‘Squad halt.’ he shouted to the men.
‘Oh shit, what does the big cheese want with us now?’ whispered the lead soldier to another squad member.
‘Squad prone,’ shouted Barrad, after a moment of confusion, the squad’s corporal shouted at his men.
‘That means lie down in the dirt where you belong, you worthless cretins.’
As they jumped to the floor, the men instantly disappeared from Barrad’s angle of view and a smile grew across the general’s face. Surprise could be an excellent advantage.
‘Good job men. Crack on.’
After the army had been assigned in to new groups and his changes to the order of battle had been enforced, the men’s whingeing managed to carry within earshot of his command tent. When you split a force that has stuck together for years there is always someone who has a brother or an old comrade who they would rather fight and die with. Barrad smiled to himself, this was a good sign, when the whingeing stopped, that would be when the real trouble began.
The next part of Barrad’s plan required him to win a small victory in order to improve the men’s fighting spirit and remind them that defeat was not the only outcome against the Aristrian army. Until now they had only tasted the bitter flavour of retreat and defeat. Another aspect of his plan for victory which he needed to factor in was that the Aristrian Army Group North were still under the command of Azeth Khan, the oldest and most experienced Su-Katii general that he had ever encountered. If he could remove the head of the snake, the body would wither and die, or so he had been taught by this very same Su-Katii general years before. Personal combat was desirable with this man as it would be a win-win situation. Should he fall against Azeth, he would wager that his troops would be quite happy to see their own young pup of a commander dead and fight all the harder for their own lives. With this plan developing further in his mind, all he had left to do was to wait for Tamar to work his magic and locate the exact position and numbers of the invaders in his next regular update. He now looked forward to tonight’s dream visit for the first time.
In the temple of the Su-Katii he had been tutored in the best use of all tactics and had studied every factor that could bring victory to the battlefield, the last stand at Misilain, the Battle of Prisiilica, he had studied them all. During the training, war games and simulated massed battles obtaining a clear victory had always been an extremely difficult challenge. There were so many elements to consider and perfect - a Su-Katii was expected to master complex tactics and even diplomacy as well as the sword. As the only remaining elder student of the Su-Katii Lords, the expectations demanded of him had been extremely high. He remembered the teachers had always treated the units as faceless regiments, but Barrad now knew otherwise, with the faces of the men looking up to him for hope and their desperate eyes burning into his soul. An uncaring man would be able to remove himself from the burden of hope and human loss about to occur. Although he did not fit this bill, he knew that despite the forthcoming tempest about to be unleashed he would not waver from any of the difficult decisions that would be necessary. The faceless ones had wives and children, parents and loved ones that now depended on his untested ability as a leader. During the training in the temple he had learned another valuable lesson. A commander shares the fate of his men in both victory and defeat. With every defeat in those old war games, the result had always been to suffer the pain of death, as a reminder of the real fate that accompanied such a loss, but without its true finality - within the Temple death had become an unwelcome companion during his time there, but also provided an excellent incentive to win. Today however for the first time, he realised what was at stake for the thousands of men on this hill, for them there would be no resurrection or second chance, he felt a very heavy weight on his shoulders.
On the day of the enemy army’s arrival, Barrad awoke with a smile on his face, the prospect of fulfilling his life-time of training with the real thing infused him, dread and apprehension were not feelings that he could comprehend today. The previous night’s dream visit from Tamar had been most enlightening, he had been provided with the enemy’s numbers and position and now only time would tell whether things would work out as they had planned. The last few days had gone as well as could be hoped, all preparations had been made to their defences and to ready the men for combat, the long days of practice, changing formations and working on individual combat techniques had resulted in a marked improvement throughout the army. With the high workload and the unusual measures that Barrad had taken, the number of troops prepared to defend the Black Rocks had not diminished greatly, well, once the Provost had emptied the drinking emporiums of the last of the stragglers…
Barrad stretched his muscles which were still knotted from the previous day’s spear practice. It had been a while since he had worked out with clumsy infantry weapons, instead of the precision-crafted blades to which he had become accustomed. He pushed open the tent-flap and the fresh mountain air brought goose pimples to his bare chest and arms, the freshness of the cold air made a man feel alive. The cloudless night had caked the ground with a light morning frost.
He staggered out to the fast-running stream that ran down the rock face, close to the makeshift camp. Clambering down onto a large smooth rock it provided a natural shower; he unwillingly began the invigorating routine of a mountain-man’s wash. He tried to put aside any thoughts of what might be getting flushed down through the stream from the town above. Barrad’s thoughts strayed back to the many Su-Katii teachers of tactics that had tutored him over his many lifetimes of training. With his recent change of allegiance the thought occurred to him that he may now be forced to oppose any one of them, both in personal combat, or with his army. How the different masters had contradicted each other. Some had insisted that only sound, solid tactics and reliance on training, granted the victory, while others believed that the ability to surprise and strike first was a pre-requisite to decimating the opposition. The only conclusion he had reached, was that any one of these conditions could bring victory, as long as it was used in the correct situation, which made judging the situation the most paramount factor. If he indeed had to face those who had taught him tactics – would they use the same tactics twice, or would they do the opposite of what they taught him as a bluff? His head hurt as he contemplated these things until an uncontrollable shiver reminded him that he was standing half-naked in the middle of freezing mountains. Drying himself off, he quickly concluded that his opponents’ tactics would depend on whether they knew that he stood on the battlefield or not. He looked down at the large teeth on the amulet about his neck. Tamar had explained to him on a subsequent dream visit that as long as he wore the dragon’s tooth amulet its magic would keep him hidden from all prying eyes, and if local spies had not revealed his new command, he stood a chance that the enemy may not know of his presence here. The invaders would be full of confidence thinking that the Tanarian forces were still in disarray. With that thought he retreated back into the relative warmth of the tent. He started to don his distinctive Su-Katii armour but suddenly stopped, and called his squire and told him to fetch a set of standard Tanarian infantry armour. He had realised that if his presence was not obvious on the battlefield the way in which the enemy commander conducted his battle would be more predictable and therefore give him a further advantage. They would need as many factors in their favour as possible today. This move outweighed the fact that some of his own troops may think their commander was not on the battlefield, he would soon spread the word of his deception and show his face when the men were formed up. Soldiers could gossip faster than old women.
The Tanarian army had once been a proud professional unit; they had battled the Aristrians to a state of stalemate in the previous war. But, twenty years later, with only border disputes and marauding bands of thieves and robbers to test their metal, they had been caught with their breaches down. They were far too rusty to mount an effective defence at the start of the week, but now after an intensive turnaround they may perhaps last a little longer. Barrad would have liked another couple of weeks to put them through their paces, but he knew that not even Tamar’s powerful magic could delay the invaders for that long. He had no doubt that they would fight hard, because they had no other choice as they were caged in with their backs against the wall - there was no escape from these mountains. But the question remained at the front of his mind, could they maintain discipline and follow orders correctly? Well today they would find out.
Azeth Khan, Commander of Army Group East sat proudly on his tall charger. At last his appetite for battle would be fulfilled once again as for years now, he had craved for that which he could not have. In his youth, frequent combat had been commonplace and it was not until his later years that he realised just how much like a drug it had been. Now at last his craving would be satisfied.
His scouts had returned with the good news that the last of the Tanarian dogs had ceased their retreat; the pursued stragglers had fallen back to a final position in the mountains with the rest of the vermin. He had expected to bring them to battle during the initial invasion but instead they had just fled the field – pathetic. The rearguard skirmishers had scampered back to the safety of their lines. Now commanding the freedom of the open plains, the enemy had allowed him free movement to execute his mission - to capture the crystal mine in Bacu and then to dominate the ground and destroy the enemy. The majority of his cavalry had been sent forward to secure the mine as they could cover the distance and secure the objective quickly. They would have been of little real use on a steep mountain assault; penned in on the narrow track they would have only been a hindrance. Although Azeth did keep several cavalry squads back to run down any stragglers that got past his infantry, he hated the thought that anyone should get away. The order to take the mines as a priority was ridiculous to him, he had argued the flaws of not capturing all strategic areas first until he was sick to what remained of his back teeth, but the order was unchanging and came directly from the top. Still he would personally take great pleasure in exterminating these vermin; now that their nest had been completely contained their fate was surely sealed. His scouts had already reported finding three tracks leading into the hills. Two of them were mere paths, easily defendable, so his superior weight in numbers would be of little use there. The third track was much wider making it difficult to defend. He did not need to be the master tactician that he was, to work out where to deliver his main assault. Azeth’s small stature and rapid mood-swings had not won him any friends on this or previous expeditions. The tall Aristrian nobles found the skinny pock-marked general difficult to stomach and doubted his credibility when they were told that a Su-Katii general was taking command. They had expected a warrior chiselled from solid rock to fill the door frame. Instead a flimsy little weasel of a man had moved annoyingly into the room. On introduction to the Officers’ Mess, the despicable little man had sat himself in the corner like a spider in a web, taking in his new surroundings, waiting and listening. Eventually after a few too many wines a young officer had managed to make an insulting comment about Azeth and the Su-Katii, asking a fellow loudly how an old bag of bones had ever managed to get past the so-called rigorous training regime of the Su-Katii, let alone advise the Aristrian army on how to fight. Overhearing the comment the old bag of bones sprang almost gleefully from the corner and with a smirk on his face, his answer had been swift.
‘Allow me to demonstrate,’ said Azeth. Unbuckling his ornate sheathes he allowed his blades to fall to the floor. Azeth preferred the Falchion style blades, short and single edged curved blades, as thick as a broadsword that could produce a terrible and deep wound. He then pointed to the cocky youngster; his yellow nail and thin scrawny finger singling him out. Tilting his head to one side he coolly spoke his cold words.
‘Please finish your wine young man. Enjoy it for it will be the last thing you taste before I kill you with your own blade.’
The young officer froze for a second hoping that one of his superior officers would say something or step in, but they had the sense to stay seated, for a Su-Katii general was untouchable under Aristrian law. Looking around the silent room in growing frustration the younger man calmed himself for a second, then he picked up his wine goblet and went to take a sip. With his temper rising, his face reddened with the embarrassment of the whole room watching him and the veins in his temple pulsated as he threw his wine goblet at the skinny old man. The Su-Katii stepped immediately forward, easily avoiding the flying goblet, which sprayed the surrounding officers with the blood-red liquid. In one fluent and swift move the Su-Katii kicked a nearby chair upwards into the young man’s face, momentarily stunning him as he drew his broadsword. With impeccable timing, the Su-Katii caught the youngsters arm just as the blade tip was free of its scabbard, carrying his momentum forwards, he drove the freshly released sword backwards into the young man’s stomach. The consumed wine did nothing to help dull the slow and agonising death that eventually befell him the next day from the fatal wound. As the young man lay mortally wounded on the cold floor, writhing in pain at his feet, Azeth looked around the room quizzically.
‘Does anyone else require a demonstration of my skill or have any further doubts you wish to discuss …I am a good listener?’ he enquired, aiming his words towards the other startled young officers who had sat at their loudmouthed colleague’s table. Apart from the groans of the dying man, Azeth’s question was greeted by a resounding silence.
‘I thought not. Remember this day well, for I now take your command and this will be my response if you fail to follow my orders to the letter. Now please enjoy your wine, and the rest of the evening, gentlemen.’
Azeth was of the old school. He had fought in all of the major battles of his time and genuinely missed the thrill of a good war. Over the years he had become hardened to the horrors that came with this territory, he had seen them all. As they rode towards the mountains, he had already begun to plan what tortures he would inflict upon any of the Tanarian survivors. Eventually his military mind took over from the darker thoughts that once again seemed to constantly push to the front.
‘Send only two hundred men to each of the smaller passes, they will serve to keep them hemmed in. Make no assault, just kill them if they try to break out. Now get up there, double-march and do not disappoint me. I want them in place quickly to cut off all escape routes before our main force arrives at the larger path to seal the trap.’
‘My Lord’ said a scout tentatively. ‘I believe the locals call the mouth of the path the Giant’s Footprint. They say a giant ran across the hills smashing the rocky crags eventually trapping and falling on the higher ground creating a flat plateau for the hamlets above.
‘Tanarian retards. Thanks for the history lesson, but I will be rewriting it today. There should be just enough light for one assault. Go and prepare the Uphrian mercenaries for they shall have the first battle honours today.’