Age of War

Chapter 56

Saffrey rode through the archway that led into the Enclave and gaped at the scene unfolding before him. His army was in complete disarray, some cowering beneath their shields, others trying to flee, some brave souls attempting a desperate counter-attack. But most were lying on the ground, dead or dying. Arrows fell in continuous volleys from every direction, and he flinched instinctively as he craned his neck upwards and saw the archers on the walls. He’d always suspected this would become a massacre – he just hadn’t imagined he’d be on this side of it. He growled under his breath as his Chronusi guard stared around them helplessly. He made an emphatic gesture. “Go and do something!”

The captain stared up at him helplessly from behind his armoured veil. “But, my lord, how can we…”

“I thought you were the best of the best! Go and do your jobs!”

That seemed to do the trick, and they moved out into the fray, raising their shields over their heads and forming an armoured phalanx that waded across the plaza. They’d have to take the buildings the Atlasians held. It was as simple as that. It could be done. He still had the numbers: he just had to get this mess sorted out, minimise the losses, stick to his plan. He’d been meticulous. The city was almost his! It would be madness to abandon the fight now. He kicked his horse’s flanks and tried to find Hadrin. She’d be around here somewhere, holding the line. He scanned the churning mass of soldiers for an island of calm, but none was apparent. He wondered whether she was dead. That would be unfortunate. As troops ran past him, heading for the gates, he roared at them, ordering them back to the front. It did no good. His voice didn’t carry over the tumult, and even if they’d heard and obeyed him, how could they possibly form up in any kind of good order? They’d brought no banners, no horns or drums, nothing to coordinate an army. The idea was to rush in, attacking in secrecy and darkness, not engage in a stand-up fight in unfavourable conditions.

How did this happen? he silently asked himself. What had gone wrong? Arrows still fell. He kept his horse moving, ploughing across bodies on the paving slabs. There was blood everywhere and he grimaced with distaste. Fresh troops were entering through the gates now, and there seemed to be a shift in the momentum of the fight. With his own Chronusi infantry leading the way, a ragged battle line began to form. Cataphracts found one another and started to organise into columns. Their heavy armour was almost proof against the enemy’s missiles, and they’d taken few casualties. He’d always found their archaic scale horse armour rather laughable, but now he saw it had its advantages. He drew his own sword. He had no intention of wielding it in anger today, but it was important for the look of the thing. Let them see a true Emperor in battle, amongst his loyal warriors! Perhaps there was a way he could turn this to his advantage…

Horns sounded. Saffrey frowned as he tried to locate their source, turning this way and that. Those troops still standing did the same. The phalanx, now at the tip of a spearhead of soldiers heading for the open door of a large building dead ahead, paused. The arrows stopped. Everything was silent save for the groans of the wounded. Saffrey breathed out a cloud of steam. The flickering light of the braziers set all around leant the whole scene in the plaza a ghastly aspect. Shadow and light vied for dominance in this place of death and carnage. Another horn blared, and gradually the call was taken up by dozens more. Then he heard them coming: the sound of hooves sparking on stone, an avalanche heading right for them, from every direction at once. They exploded from the paths that led from the plaza into the interior of the Enclave. These gentle avenues were winding, picturesque lanes, flanked with trees and exquisite sculptures, wide roads whose only traffic consisted of ambling politicians or nobles, and the occasional hurried servant. Now they disgorged a nightmare wall of steaming horseflesh as dozens of columns of cavalry roared out and into the plaza, where the already beleaguered army did its best to defend itself against the devastating charge. There were token attempts to raise shields, form phalanxes, lift pikes, but it was no good. The archers stood silently on their perches. Saffrey could only watch as the entire front half of his army, including the Chronusi honour guard, were smashed between two heavy cavalry companies. They rampaged through his lines, criss-crossing and sowing more carnage. The tentative rally was stillborn: now turning into the complete rout it had always threatened to become.