Daughter of the Wind

17. The Siege of Larton

Sixteenth of Harvest

There was a time, General Alihad reflected, when kings had led their forces into battle. It was the ultimate command opportunity, the highest sport that they could perceive. The chief of the Svaletan Army was secretly glad that such customs had changed. Farhad may have been a respected leader, but he was no military strategist. The woeful situation at the Aliri border had proven that. As the general walked among the assembling troops, he took a deep breath and tried to settle his growing nerves. The Aliri had encircled Larton two days before, moving fast once they had broken through the hasty defences that the Svaletans had managed to throw up throughout the Hold. At Farhad's begrudging orders, Alihad had ridden with his entourage to the border of the Hold to take charge of the attempt to retake the city. Alihad knew the realities of siege warfare. The Aliri would be aiming to keep the city cut off for weeks until they ran low on food and water. Only then would they enter the city, should it be necessary, to seize control. More likely, the citizens of Larton would throw open their gates and surrender before it went that far. There would be no dramatic attack upon the city, at least not until the population was thoroughly cowed.

Alihad was determined that it wouldn't come to that. His forces were assembled in a small valley near the Artax River, well away from the closest known Aliri forces. He was prepared for a hard fight. He'd gathered a full cavalry regiment, at least three hundred strong, skilled fighters who had spent time training with Ikari warriors. He had a further four hundred foot soldiers, who were now resting and preparing for the long march ahead of them. They would set out in another couple of hours, circling around to strike Larton from the east. They were the most easily spotted, and hopefully they would draw the Aliri's attention away from the main assault. The cavalry regiment would attack first, hitting Larton from the main southern road. While the Aliri were distracted, the infantry would begin their assault, hopefully sowing enough confusion to rend a hole in their defences and break their lines. That was the theory, at least. Alihad knew war well enough to understand that no plan ever lasted.

He led the cavalry out of their holding area two hours after the infantry began to march. There was no battle cry, no shouted speech. In each of their hearts burned an anger at the Aliri invaders and their violation of Svaleta's lands. Alihad had accomplished too much in his life to feel the need to create more drama, and he silently took the lead, feeling the power of his mount as it cantered northwards. It wouldn't be a long ride to Larton, and both man and horse needed to have energy when they reached the Aliri lines. There they would meet in battle, and if Alihad's luck held out, they would free Larton from its siege.

* * *

Beneath his calm exterior, Echtalon could feel a growing frustration. After smashing Svaleta's worthless defences along the border, he had expected a simple campaign to take Rignar's Hold, then to face resistance once he forded the rivers to the south. He had not expected any serious resistance from an enemy so easily defeated at the border. A series of holding actions by the Svaletans, while not overly effective, had served to bleed his forward regiments and thus slow his advance beyond what he had predicted. For all his cunning, he'd neglected the eternal truth that no plan survives once the battle is joined. It had taken five days to reach Larton, and now his scouts reported Svaletan forces massing to the south. Echtalon growled a curse as he watched his men constructing catapults and other siege engines. These should have been completed at least a day previously. And now he had no time. War was a cruel master, never picking sides, equally blessing and cursing seemingly at a whim. If there were a God of War, Echtalon thought, he would be an ungrateful lord.

"General!" a young officer called out from behind him. He turned wearily as the man bowed and said breathlessly, "Svaletan cavalry are approaching from the southern road. At least regimental strength."

"As expected," Echtalon said with a nod. That much, at least, he had predicted correctly. "Prepare your defences, have the witches move into position."

He looked off to the south and smiled grimly. "If these fools don't believe in magic, then let's change that."

"Sir." The officer ran off to carry out the orders. Echtalon watched as the lines reformed to face the new threat. The Svaletans were about to learn what true military might looked like. If his luck continued, he would break this counterattack, then he could go back to the business of suffocating the city. They wouldn't last long – if he had time.

* * *

Alihad stopped as he came over a hill and finally saw Larton in its desperation. In at least three places he could see siege engines under construction, mighty catapults to break down Larton's walls. Just on the southern side, he could see half a dozen forest trolls lumbering ahead of the Aliri lines, occasionally walking up to the city's walls in defiance of the arrows that must have been raining down on them. Though vastly outnumbered, Larton had spirit. Alihad knew that they would be fighting back in whatever ways they could, not that it seemed to have much effect on the elven forces. He only hoped that they were holding something in reserve for when the Aliri broke the walls. He turned his attention to the immediate threat, a regiment of Aliri infantry who had already begun reforming their lines to face the horse-born threat. Sunlight gleamed off spears and pikes as they were thrust forward, ready to pierce the breast of man and beast alike. A frontal assault was ruled out, but the eastern flank was vulnerable. Alihad turned to the captain beside him and gave his instructions. The captain would lead the majority of the cavalry in a frontal assault on the Aliri lines. Alihad would take a hundred men and break off from the main attack at the last moment to strike the vulnerable eastern flank. Under the unexpected pressure, they should be able to break a hole in the Aliri line.

"For King and glory," the captain said before turning to call out the orders. Alihad waited patiently as the regiment assembled and prepared itself for the charge. The front line of spears and pikes were the key. They would cause the greatest number of losses for the cavalry, but if they could break that line then the rest of the infantry would be a simple matter to deal with.

Alihad glanced over at the captain, who nodded and screamed out, "Forward to Larton!"

The riders let out a massive roar and the regiment erupted into action. The thundering of hooves seemed to fill the air as they raced down the hill towards the Aliri lines. Alihad felt his heart race as the enemy grew closer. He held his sword high, ready to slash down all who stood before him. He frowned as half a dozen women in colourful robes stepped out of the Aliri lines. They raised staffs in the air, and Alihad's eyes went wide with realisation. It was too late to respond; he led his detachment off to the right as the captain led the main force straight for the Aliri. The sky went dark, and lightning began to strike. The earth was torn apart where it struck, and Alihad watched as a rider disappeared in a cloud of ash as he was struck. He looked over to the main force, and instinctively brought his horse to a stop. The main attack had entirely failed. Whole lines were disintegrated as chains of lightning slashed through their ranks. Ignoring their masters, horses were scattering, fleeing in every direction.

"Pull back!" Alihad screamed, and brought his horse back around. The call was repeated as they fled before the devastating onslaught. Alihad cursed as he rode. Who could stand against that power? What hope did Svaleta have?

* * *

Echtalon couldn't help but laugh as the Svaletans dispersed. This is the best that you could bring, Farhad? Your kingdom belongs to me.

"General! Enemy infantry on the right flank!"

Echtalon sighed. "The witches will deal with it. There is no threat here."

As it turned out, his delays had made no real difference. Larton belonged to the Aliri. The rest of Svaleta would soon join it in subjugation. There was no stopping him now.