Chapter 4: When you wish upon Illuminar
Kalus reached down to draw his sword, but the grizzled hand of Titus stopped him.
"Commander, you have two wives now and cannot be careless with your life." The war veteran said. "Let the men fight and you direct the fight; they need guidance more than they need another sword."
Kalus bristled, but had to admit the most senior member of his council was right. He turned to his herald. "Kyselius, make tones for forming a circular defensive line; hopefully the men will understand."
His herald nodded and blew two long trumpet blasts, paused, then three short ones.
Instantly, Kalus's men sprang into action. Even with the partial moon, he could see his men -- all in full armor -- running to the outskirts of his camp and forming a proper defensive line. Nearly all of them had grabbed their pole weapons, which were their primary battlefield weapons. Most had swords too, but those were more for backup or self-defense outside of battle.
His men forming into a defensive circle around their camp happened quickly, just as he'd drilled into them. His men were ready for action and they'd arrived in the nick of time. Kalus assumed that the alarm being raised was the signal for the rest of the enemy to attack, because the main body was only now coming out of the forest.
"Kalus, your horse." One of the centurions said, doing his best to lead the large warhorse to him. Tornado was only cooperating because he was being led in Kalus's direction. If he had been led in any other, whoever tried to lead him would've been in for a rude awakening. He had a halter, but no saddle.
Damn.
"Shalavo!" Kalus said loudly to Tornado and the horse calmed down somewhat. He seized the bridle and with some difficulty managed to mount him without the saddle. He threw his cloak off so his surcoat would show and surveyed the situation from his higher vantage point.
Things were looking good for his men.
Not so much elsewhere.
The enemy force was estimated to be about four thousand, but it seemed that not only was the estimate quite low, but probably every single enemy soldier was attacking in the ambush.
"Kyselius, I'll tell the men to anchor the lines. Give me three minutes, then signal the advance." He ordered.
His herald looked extremely confused, but nodded.
Kalus took off as fast as he could through the forest to their right side.
"Only advance to the front and rear when you hear the order to advance!" He called as he rode behind his men. "Do NOT go into the forest when you hear the order to advance!" He called loudly as he rode along the line.
Fortunately, the enemy had hesitated to attack the strong defensive line and appeared to be trying to travel along the lines to find weaker, sleepier prey. Thus, his men acknowledged his orders without being distracted by fighting for life and limb.
It took Kalus a whole minute riding along one side of his line, then another minute to reach the other side, where he gave the same orders. Right on time, He heard his herald sound the order to advance.
His men did him proud.
They had never been given orders like this before, but he had drilled it deeply into their heads never to break the line anywhere for any reason. They moved a bit awkwardly, the lines slowly stretching as the battle line simultaneously advanced rearward to rescue the rearguard, and forward towards the king's tent.
Unsurprisingly, the king had a multitude of torches lit up around his opulent tent and thus it made for a very obvious target. A large portion of the enemy force was attacking from two opposite trying to get at it. He dearly wished his morals would allow the king to suffer the consequences of his stupidity and also his behavior toward Katia, and Lyra, but he could never live with himself if he didn't try to intervene.
Besides, most of the king's guard was made up of men he'd personally trained, their greater discipline and training giving them a much larger share of the king's guard than men from the other commanders.
He had to act.
Kalus made a beeline for the section of his men heading in that direction, noting that beyond his camp's area sleepy and half-naked men were stumbling from their tents. Their sleepy, disorganized stumbling would pose little threat to the enemy.
"Halithrof, Drubien, Galivard, Blessie; to me!" He called out to four of his centurions he could see just ahead. Four centurions only commanded four hundred men, but he dared not weaken the line any further for fear the enemy would get inside his men's line and they would be flanked from the inside.
"Full charge to the king's tent and form ranks; protect the king!" He ordered, drawing his sword and leading the charge.
Thankfully, the men around the king's tent hadn't been as lax as the rest of the army. While they were mostly putting up token resistance, they did manage to slow the enemy charge enough to give Kalus and his men time to reach the tent.
"Halithrof and Drubien take the right flank, Galivard and Blessie take the left." He commanded as they arrived.
He felt a small note of pride as the centurions began to issue orders to their men, and all four centuries of troops wheeled and maneuvered into position perfectly.
Then the enemy arrived.
His men were greatly outnumbered and fought like devils. They were holding, and he had never been prouder...
...but they were greatly outnumbered.
While the enemy couldn't break through Kalus's men and they were taking far greater casualties, they could outmaneuver the defenders owing to the greater numbers. It was less than a minute before a large section of them broke off and headed towards the gap between the two lines.
"FOLD TO FLANK!" Kalus bellowed to his men. "DEFENSIVE ENCIRCLE!"
At once, his men began to give ground, retreating in an orderly fashion with the wings folding more than the center. This stretched his men's lines and eventually closed them, forming a ring around the king's tent as the attackers hammered the thinned lines. He knew that his men -- well-trained and disciplined as they were -- wouldn't be able to hold much longer with the enemy's greater numbers. The smallest slip-up would create a breach in their lines, and they would be done.
Then the tide turned.
The army of sleepy rabble that had been slow to respond started attacking the invaders from behind. The rest of King Tyso's army was now awake and they were out for blood. All of the attackers were killed in a matter of minutes. While his own men were under orders to give quarter to surrendering troops, apparently the rest of the army had been given no such orders.
They were slaughtered to a man.
The entire battle had taken ten minutes, perhaps fifteen.
The moment that the all clear had been sounded, the King emerged from his tent wearing his fancy gilded chainmail and wielding his sword. He looked around, scrutinizing what could be seen by torchlight and moonlight. His eyes finally lighted on Kalus up on his warhorse and the men who had surrounded his tent.
He knew whose men they were.
Kalus gave the king as deep a bow as possible while still mounted. "Your majesty."
The king said nothing.
Nothing needed to be said.
