บท 27: Chapter 25 - Battle of Eyarha Plains 2
1 BC
Eyarha Plains
The battle was already proving to be highly costly, and thousands of corpses littered the battlefield as showers of arrows and javelins were exchanged between the two sides. Chariots ran down infantry and archers while scorpions and Cataphracts harassed and whittled down the Reachmen knights, and the main host of both armies marched towards a direct confrontation.
As the Dornish troops reached eyesight of the Reachmen host, they suddenly ground to a stop, phalaxes forming shield-walls and archers nocking arrows on bows.
"They're stopping?" A knight questioned.
"Does not matter, we charge and hit them before they can try anything!" Mern ordered, "Charge, charge!"
None had issue with such orders, yet even as they moved to close the distance, a horn echoed from the Rada formation, and the Rada troops actually pulled back slightly. The Reachmen soon saw large ceramic jars being flung towards their position, yet they hit the ground instead and erupted into a thick smoke which obscured their vision. They huddled together as a precaution, cautious of an ambush.
"Damn it, what in the name of the Seven are they up to now!?" A knight cursed, holding his shield up high.
"I don't know, but it is nothing good," Mern remarked, feeling cold sweat dripping down his forehead, "Still, we must march forward; we cannot stay here or we will be sitting ducks for whatever trap they've concocted."
With trepidation the Reachmen marched forward as fast as their legs could carry them. Many feared a possible ambush, some even shaky in their movements, but all maintained the shield-wall and carried on, hoping to emerge intact from the ambush.
Alas, House Rada would cruelly dash their hopes, for a hail of arrows soon claimed the lives of dozens.
"Shit! Shields up, shields up!" Mern bellowed at the top of his voice.
Many raised their shields, but quite a number did not make it in time, falling to the ground and creating holes in the formation their comrades desperately moved to plug.
"We can't stay here, we must move forward!" Mern ordered.
"But Your Grace, we cannot see a thing!" A knight pointed out, "If we go blindly, we risk losing more of our comrades to this… this…!"
"If we stay here, we die regardless!" Mern countered, "Now move! Move forward and keep your shields locked tight!"
"But how do we know where to go, Your Grace?" The knight questioned.
"We follow where the arrows are coming from!" Mern answered, "We follow them, we'll come across the Rada main host sooner or later!"
The Reachmen desperately obeyed Mern's orders, and with professionalism befitting full-time soldiers, knights and levies alike marched forward in perfect synchrony, their shields held high as a wall of wood and iron. Though it saved many lives, many more who responded too late turned into Human porcupines, and Mern gritted his teeth at this sight.
Even with this thick smoke, the Dornishmen are able to find our location somehow and massacre our troops. That means even if we manage to escape this smog by going forward, he will have another nasty surprise waiting for us.
Brandyll's thoughts raced in a focused mind, undistracted by the bloodshed, confusion and mayhem happening all around them.
But there is no risk in war, and we sacrificed too much to simply lose this battle!
Thousands died in the vanguard, yet the training and discipline of the Reachmen shone true in the shrouded smog, and they emerged from the deathtrap of smoke and arrows…
To find themselves heading straight into a wall of shields and spears bearing the crimson banner of the fox.
"Shit, brace!" Mern ordered.
Levyman and knight clashed against the phalaxes - proud infantry of the Dornish deserts. Knights were superior warriors with years of experience and on foot, a terrible menace against the half-trained levymen of most other Kingdoms. Levies, being half-trained troops, often performed worse than knights in melees. This time, both levyman and knight showed terrible rage and ferocity against the Dornishmen, pushing hard like a herd of mammoths.
The Phalaxes held firm like a wall of iron, rotary thrusts of spears poking above and beneath shields of gleaming steel, hardly caring less about a mob of angry farmers and snotty nobles as their formation held firm. All the while overhead, arrows continued to fly past them and into the smog behind the Reachmen, killing hundreds more in the process.
Dornish archers fired and felled levies and knights, while Reachmen javelins took down scores of Phalaxes. Minutes passed, and the ferocious fighting soon took a turn as the Rada formation began to buckle slightly. Only the latter's professional training kept them from crumbling in the face of superior numbers and morale, though they were forced back which emboldened the Reachmen further as they intensified the push.
"Pull back, pull back!" Arin ordered.
The Dornishmen retreated in good order, allowing the Reachmen to make good on their push and claim the lives of hundreds more Dornishmen.
"Hah, look at the cowards run!" A knight cried.
"Push forward, men!" Mern ordered, "This day, we send them to the Archdemons' banquet table!"
The Reachmen roared in approval.
Yet as the Phalaxes and archers pulled back, two more detachments of Dornish infantry struck the Reachmen in the left and right flanks, forcing them to spread out their troops in response.
"Keep pushing, men! The Black Fox must die today!" Mern ordered.
This new intrusion did not deter the Reachmen in the slightest, and they committed wholeheartedly to the push forward as the central flank withdrew. Alas, their overeagerness to claim the Black Fox's head turned against them, and soon they saw the flanks beginning to envelop them in a crescent formation. Pincered on three sides, it was now the Reachmen's turn to be whittled down and put at a disadvantage, and with arrows and javelins raining down upon them the Dornishmen could leisurely win this battle of attrition.
Worse still, an entire regiment of cavalry was charging towards their rear flanks, where the injured and exhausted Reachmen troops were rotated towards to allow the fresher troops to take the front lines. Caught between a rock and a hard place, these poor sods were slaughtered in droves.
"Damn it, we're surrounded!" A knight cursed, "Your Grace, we're being attacked from behind by cavalry!"
"Just focus on killing the enemy!" Mern ordered, gritting his teeth so hard he was close to gnashing them to bits, "We came this far, we cannot lose! Wear down their front lines and kill their commanders, then the rest will lose their nerve and rout!"
"That's a much harder order to fulfil than possible, Your Grace!" The knight pointed out.
As if to compound their troubles, the Rada Cataphracts attacking from behind were slaughtering all in their path, whittling down their numbers even further and causing the Reach formation to buckle with alarming speed. Unless a miracle took place, they were doomed.
Seven be damned, we let ourselves be baited into this! And if they're isolating me, they'll have already sent troops to attack my main camp! All we can do now is hold the line and pray the main camp holds as well!
Mern could only pray the Seven would bless them with victory.
IIOII
Just as the Reach Vanguard was hemmed in by the Dornishmen, Dornish horse archers continued to wreak havoc on the main camp's defences from afar, and despite the best efforts of the defending archers they did not manage to thin their numbers that much.
Brandyll made use of the scorpions to fire back at the horse archers, making sure to time his volleys just right to take down these meddlesome flies poking at their skin.
"Ready… loose!"
A volley was loosed, and an entire platoon of horse archers was taken down. The archers let out a brief cheer at this victory.
"Good, keep this up!" Brandyll said, "We take them down, and we buy enough time for His Grace to break through!"
Unfortunately, at that moment a single scout - mortally wounded by arrows in his back - hastily dropped off his horse and hacked out blood from his mouth before giving his report.
"M-Milord… His Grace is s-surrounded… you must… send the second w-wave…"
And the messenger collapsed to the ground in a pool of blood, his eyes and mouth open. Brandyll hastily took his Myrish Far-Eye and saw the Greenhand banners surrounded by Fox banners in an awkward semi-circle.
"Fuck!" Brandyll cursed, "Damn it, order the second wave forward!"
"But Milord, we still have these horse archers to deal with!" A captain protested.
"We can handle them on our own, along with any detachments they send our way! If we do not save His Grace and our troops from that deathtrap we lose this battle! Order the second wave forward with two regiments of our cavalry!" Brandyll ordered, roaring in the face of the poor captain.
"Y-Yes, Milord!" The captain hastily nodded.
With that, the second vanguard marched forward into the slaughterhouse, fifty thousand strong against the Dornish army. So vast was their formation that they looked as if they were devouring the desert sands with every step, an avalanche of green tainting and consuming all in its path.
Then Brandyll saw the Dornish chariots making themselves known, their wheels bearing long metal blades and the drivers bearing spears and glaives in hand while kicking up sand clouds with long spiked cylinders connected by strong iron chains. Reach cavalry moved to intercept them with lance in hand.
"I honestly wonder if the Fox's bite can poison the Green Hand…" Brandyll muttered.
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