章節 28: Chapter 26 - Battle of Eyarha Plains 3
1 BC
Eyarha Plains
Huang Xue gazed upon the unfolding battle from atop his chariot, safe within the heart of the formation. Fanning himself vigorously under the hot sun, he strained his eyes observing the tide of the battle, sighing heavily as he wiped the sweat from his forehead. The umbrella on his chariot did little to keep away the heat, though it was bearable without the sun directly shining on his person.
"No matter how many years I spend here, I can never get used to this overbearing heat," Huang Xue muttered tiredly, "Out here in the desert, it's far worse. How I wish I were in a cool tent, drinking iced water…"
He chuckled to himself, "As if I would miss this crucial battle for the world."
The Reachmen were surrounded and Franklyn's cataphracts were pummelling their back ranks, and though Mern Gardener and his people gave as good as they got, their fate was effectively sealed. The second vanguard, on the other hand, was fast marching towards the melee to rescue Mern's vanguard.
"My Lord, the second vanguard has reached halfway towards the rear of King Mern's formation!" A soldier reported.
Huang Xue smiled at this, and ordered, "Have the Hydromancers spring the trap [1]."
"Yes, milord!" The soldier saluted.
"Behold, Men of the Reach," Huang Xue said, "Behold the fruits of tactics borne of years of practice and cunning."
IIOII
Brandyll instantly felt his hairs standing up on end, a natural reaction he instinctively felt when something was about to go wrong. He quickly looked at the battlefield through his Far-Eye, and what he saw caused his heart to sink.
The sand the second vanguard marched on turned into quicksand, a hungry maw opening upon the surface of the earth that swallowed thousands of troops. Many were left half-buried from the waist up, unable to escape, unable to move. The Dornish chariots themselves remained preoccupied with the cavalry, and the infantry remained occupied in the melee.
Then he saw Dornish light cavalry rushing towards the infantry, yet rather than trample upon them or kill them he instead saw them throw sacks onto the trapped Reachmen, covering them in a thick black, viscous substance. He then saw flaming arrows loosed from the Rada formation, aimed in the direction of the second vanguard.
The arrows struck, the fire igniting the oil, and tens of thousands of troops were burned alive before their eyes. A field of fire [2] was ignited beneath their feet, a field of fire that would be recorded in history forevermore.
Even if they moved now, it was too late to save the first or second vanguards from the deathtrap Arin Rada engineered. With the loss of the Dornish levies and two vanguards along with several commanders from the daring assassinations days prior, Brandyll realised there was no winning the battle.
Yet he was just one of several commanders, not the King, and without the King's permission, he could not hope to order a retreat lest he be branded a traitor.
"My Lord Brandyll, what do we do now!?" A knight questioned.
Gritting his teeth, he reluctantly gave an order that went against every fibre of his being.
"We continue to hold the main camp!" Brandyll ordered.
"What!? But what about His Grace?" The knight questioned again, "The second vanguard may be beyond saving, but not His Grace! We must save him! Did you not say that without him, the battle is lost!?"
"I know that, and I was counting on the second vanguard for that reason!" Brandyll countered, "But now they have them trapped where they want them, and if we recklessly send more troops to their aid, not only will we risk losing them, we will also weaken our own defence against their pincer attack!"
As if to answer Brandyll's concerns, two regiments of cavalry came barreling down on their main camp, attacking the Reachmen with vigour and high morale. As Brandyll drew Heartsbane, he could see several cavalrymen wielding water in their hands, slicing apart opposition with mere waves of their hands.
Water wizards… and here I was wondering why Arin did not employ his trump card earlier…
"Damn it, take care of these bastards immediately!" Brandyll ordered, "No one gets through!"
It was a vain hope, trying to eke out a possible victory from the jaws of defeat, but he was a commander of the Reach and he would perform his tasks until the bitter end.
And the sun shining overhead resembled a burning star, ready to land on the battlefield with a thunderous impact and obliterate everything in its path.
IIOII
Meanwhile, Mern and his troops were far too preoccupied fighting their way through the Dornish aiming for the head of Arin Rada, who himself had joined the melee with Archmage Garen wielding their water arts and slicing apart Reachmen like a hot knife through butter.
With Dawn in hand he cleaved his way through, his knights eagerly following him towards death's door. Each swing cleaved flesh and bone in twain, each strike thinning the shieldwall by a handful more soldiers, drawing him closer to his target.
"Arin!" Mern shouted, "It's time for you to die!"
"Not if you die first!" Arin shouted back.
Garen used both sword and water to cover Arin's flanks while he and his men held the front firm like a rock against water. Amid the brutal melee, all the fighting men were covered in sand, blood and grime, sweaty and tired under the brutal desert heat, pushing themselves harder through burning passion for the cause they believe in.
Soon, Mern reached Arin, both equally tired, and they brandished their swords for the first strike.
"Rragh!"
As swords clashed, sparks flew, and it turned into an impromptu duel between the sovereign king of a chivalric kingdom and the self-styled rebel liberator of Dorne. As they fought hard amid the chaotic carnage, several things quickly became apparent:
One; Mern was the better swordsman, having years of battles under his belt. Arin, on the other hand, fought in several battles but nowhere near as long as his Reach counterpart.
Two; Mern had far greater strength, allowing him to hit much harder and thus cause Arin to expend greater strength when blocking or parrying Mern's strikes.
Three; Dawn [3] was a magically enchanted sword, infinitely better than Arin's own mundane steel sword which was already being nicked and chipped in various places.
But four; Arin was much more agile with his thinner body, allowing him to sidestep and dodge strikes more easily, compensating for his weaker strength and sword against Mern's.
It was a close fight; their swords clashing with Mern gaining the clear advantage, their passion and the weight of their burdens disallowing either from giving anything short of their best. Minutes passed, and both suffered wounds and exhausted all their stamina.
Slice. Stab. Block. Deflect.
"If you weren't such a fucking pain in the ass, I'd almost respect your talent for warfare!" Mern shouted, slicing Arin's left cheek.
Slice. Stab. Block. Deflect.
"And if you weren't my enemy, I'd appreciate how much of a courageous, intrepid and cunning general and king you are!" Arin argued, punching Mern squarely in the cheek and knocking out his tooth.
Slice. Stab. Block. Deflect.
"If only you were born a Reachman without your infamous tendencies, I would have gladly employed you in my court!" Mern countered, headbutting Arin in the nose, "You would have helped usher in a new Golden Age for the Reach!"
Slice. Stab. Block. Deflect.
"This is the reality we live in now!" Arin said, slicing Mern across his left eye, blinding him and causing him to scream in pain, "Deal with it!"
Mern punched Arin across the face, disorienting him and causing him to lose his bearings.
Panting heavily and bleeding badly, Arin Rada was barely able to stand up straight from battle fatigue. He fell to a knee, his vision blurring as stars danced in his vision. He saw Mern stumble towards him, one hand clutching his bleeding eye and the other clutching Dawn, ready to kill him with the final strike.
"It ends here," Mern muttered.
Time slowed, and the fate of Arin, the fate of all Dorne, would be decided in the next few seconds.
Mern raised his sword, aiming the killing blow while Arin's troops frantically rushed to his aid.
Arin quickly outstretched a hand, and from a waterskin water flowed out, morphing into an icicle which struck Mern in the throat.
Mern struggled to swing down his sword, mustering the last vestiges of his strength and determination to end Arin. Seeing this, two soldiers swiftly moved and stabbed him in the abdomen with their swords. Bleeding profusely from his throat and sword wounds, he fell backwards onto the ground, proudly facing the sun in his final moments as King of the Reach.
Mern Gardener, Ninth of His Name, was slain in battle.
"King Mern Gardener has fallen!" A soldier echoed.
The moment such news rang out across the battlefield, an air of shock, defeat and gloom loomed over the Reachmen as many suddenly felt disheartened by this devastating news. Without King Mern holding the army together, it quickly devolved into a rout as Reachmen pushed and shoved each other to escape the death trap they were in.
"So, His Lordship managed to end the life of King Mern himself, albeit with unexpected help," Huang Xue muttered, smiling like a father proud of his son, "How far he's come…"
Seeing the flagging Reachmen, he motioned to one of the men and ordered, "Have the rear cavalry part and give them an escape route, then proceed to sow confusion among their ranks."
"Aye, Sir!" The soldier nodded.
Rada cavalry soon mingled into the fighting, a few of them raising their spears high and shouting in loud voices.
"The King is dead, run! Run for your lives!"
"Arris Rada is on his way with reinforcements from Rhoyehom! We must escape while we still can!"
Some of the knights tried to restore order and control among their ranks, but the seeds of confusion were sown, and the Reachmen had completely lost hope of any victory.
"Run! As fast as you can!"
Several Reachmen were trampled beneath their comrades in their mad rush to escape, and under orders the Dornishmen did not pursue, content to leave the enemy with scars most traumatic. They let out a raucous cheer, happy that they not only won the battle for the fate of all Dorne, they scored first blood against the Reach, showing the world that the new Dorne was not to be trifled with.
"We won! We really won!"
"Hah, I get to boast about how we defeated these fools!"
"Comrade, we all get boasting rights!"
Brandyll Tarly, on the other hand, was devastated by the falling of the Greenhand banners as was his fellow countrymen. Gritting his teeth, he could see the main camp's defenders faltering and rapidly dropping like flies, inching ever closer to the command tent.
"My Lord, what do we do!?" A knight cried in alarm, shaking in his boots.
There was only one thing Brandyll could do in that situation.
"Everyone, stop fighting immediately!" Brandyll ordered, "This battle is lost! I repeat, throw down your weapons and surrender immediately! There is no need to throw away your lives for a lost battle!"
"But My Lord-"
"Just do it!" Brandyll shouted, "Send out my orders: Everyone is to lay down arms and surrender to Arin Rada! Anyone who disobeys shall be at the mercy of either my sword or Arin's! Convey my orders now!"
"Y-Yes, My Lord!" The knight saluted.
Recalcitrant as they were to surrender, at this point, the Reachmen saw no hope of escaping certain doom if they retreated, much less attempt to snatch a victory. One by one, the Reachmen desisted in fighting and surrendered, and the Dornishmen were quick to tie them up and confiscate their weapons.
And despite their reservations, they were treated with all the decency and mercy that prisoners of war could ever hope to receive; their wounded and sick were taken away to be cared for, and the rest never subject to abuse or humiliation the defeated were expected to suffer.
Brandyll's orders were like bittersweet medicine to swallow; they suffered the humiliation of defeat against an enemy more disadvantaged than them, but they were also shown great mercy and retained their lives.
Still, the casualty report was grim; though the Dornish army lost close to half their number in the battle, the Reachmen lost between two-thirds to three-quarters of their troops. By the end, slightly over 18,000 infantry and 3,000 cavalry of the Reachmen Army remained.
This battle shook the foundations of Westeros, and forever changed the power dynamic between Dorne, the Reach and the Stormlands [4].
[1] Though the quicksand trap was only applicable in desert environments, it showed the world the capability of magic users in creating otherwise mundane, invisible traps easily missed in the chaos of battle until the last possible moment, and while records on magic users in Westeros are exceedingly sparse, none suggest any of them used their powers for such purposes.
Most believe they simply did not imagine such a possibility, which would have otherwise changed the face of warfare.
[2] Contrary to expectations, this 'field of fire' was nowhere as memorable or characteristic as the true Field of Fire orchestrated by the Targaryens later on in their conquest.
[3] The fact that Dawn readily accepted its new wielder - a foreign king and conqueror and the one who caused House Dayne's downfall - was a fact countless Red Mountain Dornish refused to believe even when they saw it for themselves.
However, Dawn only accepts wielders who prove worthy of wielding it by its standards, Dornish or otherwise. The Reachmen would often poke fun at the Dornish for King Mern IX proving a worthy wielder unlike countless Daynes in the house's history.
[4] Countless people throughout Westeros refused to believe Dorne could win against the Reach and inflict such horrendous casualties upon their enemy, and as a direct consequence, neither the Reach nor the Stormlands dared to treat Dorne under House Rada lightly ever again.
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