Wolf Hunt (5)
The fierce clash at dawn had inflicted devastating losses on both armies. I let the troops rest until afternoon while ordering Riti to clean up the battlefield.
They butchered the dead horses, salvaging meat and bones for the soldiers, and gathered usable swords, shields, and other gear. It wasn't much, but it gave us supplies to fight for a few more days.
With fewer mouths to feed, we wouldn't have to worry about rations for the time being.
I steadied my mind with cold resolve and devised a new strategy based on the changed situation after the battle.
Now that we could sustain combat for over a week, there was little need to fret about the barbarians cutting off our rear.
Under these circumstances, pushing quickly to the coast for supply lines from Briton didn't seem like a bad idea.
I unrolled the map of Belanga and selected routes that approached the shoreline.
The first route curved southwest. Low ridges, scrub forests, and the swamps typical of lowlands crisscrossed it, offering some constraint on enemy attacks.
The problem was the limited visibility and slow mobility; if they struck from the rear in segments, responding would be tricky.
The second route was a direct breakthrough across the open plain. Though it crossed flat terrain openly, abandoned farms, ponds, and irrigation ditches provided decent obstacles against cavalry.
It allowed easy maneuver for a large force and offered clear sightlines.
The drawback was that the enemy might commit to a massive flanking maneuver depending on their resolve.
The third route looped back, following the Line River upstream. Swamps and the river guarded the flanks, deterring barbarian assaults.
The issues were the long time to reach the river's lower reaches and poor communication with Briton. If we accepted that, it was the safest path.
I pondered the three routes.
Each had pros and cons. Of course, I'd bear full responsibility for the choice.
After much deliberation, I chose the direct breakthrough.
Dragging this out wouldn't do us any favors. Cavalry's striking power was fearsome, but their full mobility could prolong the war endlessly—and that terrified me.
I resolved to take the risk.
As the legion resumed marching, the barbarians held back, observing our movement from afar.
They might have sensed it wasn't an opening for attack, or perhaps the dawn's heavy casualties forced reorganization.
Either way, it worked in our favor.
We crossed the plain, keeping abandoned farms, ponds, and ditches to our flanks as much as possible—to blunt any cavalry charge on impact.
Soon enough, Heigirt's forces withdrew westward, vanishing from our sight.
Out of view, then strike all at once?
Breaking contact to hit in a sudden mass was cavalry's ultimate strength.
Griham's infantry had mounted up and retreated too, leaving no trace of barbarians before us.
I expected a decisive battle soon.
But they didn't come.
Tense but unbroken, we marched the full day, bringing the barbarian-held city of Belanga into view. Their banners fluttered from the walls.
Belanga.
I grimaced at the sight of the city once garrisoned by our forces. It was imperial soil.
I ordered camp on the nearby coast, within sight of the walls.
This reduced our defense to three directions, easing the burden.
Considering the scrub and swamps limiting enemy approaches, we weren't at a major disadvantage.
I fortified the camp with sturdy palisades.
I couldn't fathom why they'd let us reach the coast, but it was an opportunity.
Secure boats to cross the strait and send a messenger—we could hold out.
Meanwhile, the barbarians, with their homeland as the battlefield, would grow desperate as time passed.
We'd seize the initiative.
I tasked Riti with preparing three small boats for the strait and divided the troops into three groups against barbarian attacks.
But there was a reason they'd lured us to the coast. I learned it too late.
As night deepened, I was finishing a letter to the imperial heartland. Sealing the report to the emperor with wax and pressing my sword hilt as signature, chaos erupted outside.
"What is it?"
I pushed aside the tent flap. Soldiers murmured, staring seaward. Faint lights bobbed on the dark waves.
I peered out—then my tent shuddered and collapsed under a stone. My eyes widened.
Catapults?
I stood stunned, speechless.
The enemy had mounted catapults on ships—an attack I'd never imagined.
Shock aside, the assault was real.
"Rikius!"
"Yes, sir!"
"Find Riti and assemble our catapults fast. We can't let them keep this up."
"Yes, sir!"
I clenched my fist.
"Sir, shouldn't we douse the torches?"
Boruman approached.
"No. Accuracy drops without light, but our men's fear would spike. Guessing where stones fly from? The legion can handle it, but allied troops would bolt from the camp."
I judged coolly. Better some damage than panic.
As stones rained, tension mounted. Reports came: torches advancing from west, south, east. The barbarians were hitting all at once.
Exploit our chaos for a knockout blow.
Heigirt's strategy was flawless—ruthless, no waste. Bite hard when you strike.
A monster worthy of respect.
But we couldn't yield helplessly.
I rushed to the palisade, bellowing.
"Legion standard-bearer! Standard-bearer! Where are you?"
"Here, sir."
"Relay to the centurions: hold positions, steady the men."
"Yes, sir."
I grabbed a blazing torch and paced the palisade. Shaken soldiers knelt at my sight.
Hiding my wounds, I roared.
"We are the empire's eagles! Fight with honor, as proud warriors. For the empire!"
"Imperator eternal!"
I saluted chest to heart.
The standard-bearer steadied the centurions, calming the men somewhat—but things worsened.
Stones turned the camp to ruin; barbarians massed beyond the palisade, poised to charge.
Allies still disorganized.
I swallowed dryly.
"The empire falls today!"
Barbarian shouts echoed from afar.
I gripped my sword, awaiting them. With me in the line, soldiers faced forward, backs steady.
"Charge!"
Thundering hooves—they swarmed black as night. But not a full cavalry charge.
Not relying on horse impact from the start.
They closed hundreds of meters in moments.
"Two hundred paces!"
Archers nocked arrows at the officer's call.
"Raaagh!"
Barbarian war cries neared.
"Loose!"
Ershiang's command loosed hundreds of arrows into the night.
Falling riders tumbled amid the shafts; dismounted barbarians trampled by followers.
Undeterred, they closed. At twenty paces from the palisade, leaders halted, dismounted.
Horses mere transport!
They'd prepared meticulously to storm the camp.
With allies in disarray, only our legion at the palisade could fight.
Heigirt had timed it perfectly.
"Raaagh!"
A horde vaulted the palisade—built against cavalry, inadequate for infantry.
Our waiting soldiers charged with shields forward.
"Aaaargh!"
Screams erupted as they clashed.
Poor visibility hampered our full strength; theirs too, afoot.
In the melee, I slashed throats myself.
"Commander! Command from the rear!"
Rikius shouted.
Clashing blades, I bellowed back.
"Safer in the rear? Better die with stones than hide—I'll fight upfront with the men."
I arced my sword, deflecting a blade down, beheading an green warrior.
We fought for life amid dim moonlight and torchlight.
But more barbarians crested; our line strained. Legion resolve burned, but stamina waned.
Each step back let dozens pour in.
We yielded ground.
"Damn it!"
An unknown decurion cursed.
Shoulder to shoulder, I panted fiercely.
"Hahaha! You rat bastards!"
Griham, following his men over, swung his massive axe, roaring.
His appearance blanched our weary faces.
This was bad.
I hurled off my helmet, shouting.
"We've always been ironclad! Trust the legion. Trust your brothers. No panic. No retreat. Your steadfast shoulders and shields bear centuries of border glory!"
Soldiers bit lips at my words.
Griham bellowed monstrously, but we held grimly. Yes—that's it.
Sword raised, I rallied, bolstering the crumbling line.
Then Riti arrived, rooster-plumed helmet gleaming.
"Sir! Low tide! Low tide!"
I grasped it instantly.
Low tide strands their sea catapults far out.
We regain camp control. Allied chieftains organize, join coherently.
Disrupted allies entering the fray—reversal.
"Riti! Find the barbarian chieftains, relay orders."
"What message?"
"All rallied troops to the exposed mudflats. Flank them."
"Yes."
Riti vanished into dark.
Griham hacked through, shattering our line; barbarians surged cheering.
A few more volleys, and the legion collapses.
I exhorted, desperate for Riti.
How much time passed?
Enemy torches wavered—then massive shouts erupted from their rear.
"Cavalry!"
Caught off-guard by our swift ally counter, barbarians recoiled.
Griham, mid-slaughter, panicked and withdrew.
The tide turned!
We pursued fiercely.
"Kill them all! End the war today. Take Heigirt's head!"
Rikius roared lion-like.
Legionnaires poured out cheering; barbarians, reeling from cavalry, shattered.
As they scattered, we chased. Torchlight revealed heaps of black-clad corpses.
Our infantry, hampered by discarded horses and slaughter, followed cavalry over farms and streams.
Still, the war ends with this battle.
I wiped blood from my face.
(To be continued)