Just as Liza had predicted, it was around noon when the tribes made their appearance on the plains of Balş. The sky’s canvass had changed its hue from a dull gray to an unmotivated blue. The sun was now blazing down from its zenith. Probably also owed to the still remaining patches of snow dyeing the plain white at various spots, the wind felt cold as it furiously scraped across the surface.
Arma Zirnitra had deployed its soldiers in front of the frozen river. The center consisted of Lebus’s 1,500 infantrymen. Leitmeritz’s 1,000 infantrymen covered the right wing while Olmutz’s infantry of 1,400 soldiers formed the left wing. Only Leitmeritz’s troops had taken up a position that fell back behind the other two armies in comparison. And lastly, approximately 600 cavalrymen were stationed behind the center after having been pooled together from all three armies into a single unit.
Opposing them were the tribes led by Václav. They had formed loose ranks while glaring at Arma Zirnitra which was separated from them by several hundred alsin. Their soldiers had been evenly distributed to the two wings and the center with each holding 6,000 warriors. Václav himself, accompanied by 2,000 warriors, had taken up position in the rear of the center. Their strategy was to pulverize Arma Zirnitra straight from the front without any pretense or tricks.
──I guess we were unable to create a detached unit…
Gazing at his men from behind the central unit, Václav’s face screwed up into a grimace. If there had been anyone he could have trusted in regards to ability and personality, he might have designated that person as his adjutant and set up a detached unit. After all, he was leading an army big enough to have that much leeway. But, in the end, Václav couldn’t find anyone suitable for that task.
“Elizavetta and Olga, was it? Now then, let’s see how fearsome they are.” Václav muttered to himself as he stared at the enemy army on the other shore of the river.
Earlier this morning a messenger of Arma Zirnitra had shown up at the tribes’ camp. The messenger had been riding a horse, but without getting carelessly close to them, staying at a good distance, the messenger had called out to them in a loud voice.
“To all of you seedy, dumb mutts who only know how to go berserk: We are a Zhcted army led by Lady Vanadis Elizavetta Fomina and Lady Vanadis Olga Tamm. Our kind leaders are giving you a last warning. You bastards are to return everything you stole and surrender on the spot. If you say you’re going to fight, nothing but a disgraceful defeat and miserable deaths await you.”
Arma Zirnitra only announcing two Vanadis was a precautionary measure to avoid the opponent running away. Many of the tribal members flew into rage, but since the messenger had quickly pulled the neck of his horse around and fled, they were unable to get a hold of him.
On the other hand, Václav didn’t feel upset even after hearing the report. After all, it was a common occurrence to phrase it like that when it came to demands for surrender. However, now he understood why the enemy had awaited them on this flat land which would give their large army an advantage. He suspected that it had to do with their side having two Vanadis which were extolled for their peerless might.
“Still, do you really think you can overturn the difference in numbers just because you have two Vanadis? Don’t get cheeky, you Zhcted worms.” Václav tossed the hand holding his big machete into the air.
The horns, which sounded completely different from those used by Zhcted’s army, made Balş’s sky tremble, and 20,000 clansmen began to advance.
Arma Zirnitra blew their horns in response. With their flags being furiously swung, the Zhcted soldiers got their weapons and shields ready. However, they showed no signs of moving from their spot.
“Go!”
The clansmen responded to Václav’s shout with beastly battle roars.
◇◆◇
The tribe men trampled the ground flat and then raced across the frozen river, closing in on Arma Zirnitra at a terrifying rate. Seeing this, the faces of even the toughest Zhcted soldiers cramped up with a shudder, but they quickly regained their calm thanks to their respective Vanadis hoisting their weapons into the air while standing at the front.
“Savage tribes are not worthy of our fear! Teach them this very fact with your power!” Elen shouted at her men while brandishing her longsword atop her horse.
Leitmeritz’s soldiers roared. The soldiers of Olmutz and Lebus also raised battle cries.
Elen wasn’t the only one who had decided to fight while standing at the front of her soldiers. The same applied to Mila, Liza, and Olga.
And there was a reason why Liza had been appointed as supreme commander. Swords, spears, and axes were the soldiers’ weapons of choice. Even if those broke or snapped, they could be replaced. But, a whip capable of withstanding a fierce clash didn’t exist. Liza had explained that she took lessons in the sword from the late Ilda, and thusly claimed that she could fight with a sword, but in the end, it was the whip she excelled the most at. Besides, someone had to be the supreme commander. In the end, Elen had bowed her head, asking Liza to do it, and the Princess of the Thunder Swirl had accepted that duty.
By now the clansmen had crossed the middle of the river.
At that moment, the clansmen running in the lead suddenly crouched down or toppled over in a flashy way. Those following in their wake ran into them, pushed them away, or fell on the ground themselves. Chaos ensued all over.
Arma Zirnitra didn’t wait for them to recover, and sent a hail of arrows and stones their way. The arrows whistled as they cut through the wind, the stones boomed as they pushed the wind aside. Both raining down on the clansmen. Just as screams echoed in a chorus across the frozen landscape, blood died the river’s solid surface crimson.
“The first part went smoothly, huh?” Elen flashed a smile that was oozing with tension.
Yesterday night, the soldiers of Arma Zirnitra had rigged the frozen river. They had prepared long ropes, tied daggers onto those ropes at set intervals, and spread out the spiked ropes across the frozen river with the blades pointing upwards. And then they sprinkled water on the ropes during the night, actually affixing them to the underground by having them frozen over.
Of course the soldiers had done something else at the same time as the ropes would otherwise be visible from a distance. They collected snow from all over the plain, carried it over, and shoveled the snow on the ropes in amounts that would hide the daggers. Given that the new snow layers only reached a height up to an ankle, they wouldn’t cause anyone to get suspicious either.
The tribes’ scouts had focused their attention on Arma Zirnitra itself, and didn’t pay any heed to the snow that had mostly fused with the river’s ice. Because of that, they didn’t notice the daggers either.
However, the tribal warriors lost their momentum for no more than a moment. Even though the leading group had been annihilated by the trap, arrows, and stones, the warriors in their back were almost completely unhurt. They climbed or trampled across their fallen comrades, heading for Arma Zirnitra. Their war cries caused the atmosphere to tremble, and the dull brilliance of their machetes and axes dazzled Leitmeritz’s soldiers.
Once more they launched a ranged attack by arrows and stones, but the clansmen didn’t falter from that. Elen ordered a shift towards close combat. The soldiers readied their shields and prepared their spears.
The tribal warriors clashed with Leitmeritz’s army. The spears thrust out by the soldiers, easily ripped through the fur covering the savage warriors, forcing pain and blood loss upon them. The axes and hatchets brandished by the enemy crushed shields, and hit helmets as well armor from above, causing the soldiers to scream out in pain. A multitude of jumbled noises, which were hard to describe as death and destruction, filled the vicinity. The air grew hot in no time, and the stench of blood hung over the battlefield like a curtain.
Elen cut down the clansman, who assailed her first, with a single flash. Her swing was so fast that it didn’t even allow her opponent to wield his weapon. Dodging a spear lunging at her, she slashed her sword. It was only her second enemy, and yet, she couldn’t defeat him right away. The threefold layers of fur blocked the force behind her slash.
Elen flipped her wrist, stabbing the clansman’s forehead with her sword. After giving off a short scream, he crumbled this time for sure. Without giving her any time to catch a breath, the third enemy swooped down on her. She repelled a swing of his big hatchet with her sword, and smashed his face with her return blow, just to be showered by his blood.
──My sword feels heavy. I’m using more strength than usual to tear through their fur and to severe flesh and bones. The strain doesn’t go as far as making me pant yet, but I have to be careful. Once again I understand the value and dreadfulness of Arifar which cuts through everything, be it metal or fur, like butter. I guess it just means I returned to my mercenary day.
She scolded herself. Next she was being attacked from both sides. Elen sent the extended spear handle flying with a slash, and struck her blade on top of the enemy’s iron helmet. One of Elen’s soldiers quickly finished off the tribal warrior who pitched forward and fell over. In the meantime, Elen lopped off the head of the other clansman.
The soldiers grew excited by the gallant fighting of their Vanadis, cheering full of zeal and passion.
Yet, the tribes showed no signs of backing away. Without sparing even a single glance at their fallen brethren, they stepped over the corpses and relentlessly attacked Elen and her men like wild beasts. Some among them clearly began to target Elen. With her being mounted in addition to her womanly allure, it was unthinkable for Elen to not stand out.
For Elen, this was all she could ask for. She brushed away an approaching spear, dodged a club that mowed down, and evaded an one-handed ax that came flying at her. As she wielded her sword left and right, she drew iron-colored traces and rainbows of blood in the air.
The soldiers of Leitmeritz put up a hard fight to protect themselves and their mistress. They lined up their shields, forcing back the enemy. They stabbed, swept and knocked down clansmen with their spears. The charge of the tribes possessed the fierceness of an avalanche, but Leitmeritz’s soldiers withstood with their lives on the line.
When they had spoken about what kind of battle it would be, Liza had said following to Elen and the others:
“Don’t try to thin the enemy numbers. Instead, weaken their momentum.”
If there was this much of a difference in military power between two sides, it’d be meaningless to cull the enemy by a hundred or two. Rather than that, it was essential to not allow the enemy to capitalize on their numerical advantage, Liza had explained.
──It’s about time, I think.
Elen ordered the soldiers to fall back. Leitmeritz’s soldiers built a wall of shields, and while holding back the tribal warriors with their spears, they began to slowly retreat, step by step. It was an maneuver that could immediately end in disaster with the clansmen overrunning them if they made a single mistake here.
One of the soldiers had his shield broken, resulting in him losing his balance. The clansmen, who judged this to be a good opportunity, moved in a way you could easily call daring. One of them kept the soldier pinned to the ground by showering him with club blows. Another two cut into Leitmeritz’s army while fiercely treading across the soldiers.
If the clansmen were able to widen that opening in the shield wall by throwing their overwhelming numbers at it, Leitmeritz’s army wouldn’t be able to fend off their offensive and would likely collapse.
However, that didn’t come to pass.
Without a moment’s delay, Elen steered her horse towards the gap in the defense, and hurled one of the enemy warriors away by ramming him with her horse. Using the momentum, she used her sword to smash the head of the other alongside the iron helmet protecting it.
A bizarre screech resounded. Elen’s sword had snapped in half. Half of its blade whirled away, coming down amidst the tribal warriors before vanishing out of sight.
This stirred their excitement. They charged at her, brandishing their hatchets and clubs in an attempt to beat Elen off her horse.
However, Elen showed no hint of faltering. She narrowed her eyes, glaring down at the warriors. She threw her broken sword at them, followed by two daggers she had drawn from her waist. One of the clansmen staggered after catching the broken sword with his face. Another toppled over after the daggers embedded themselves in his chest.
“Spear!” Elen thundered rather than shouting.
She took a spear from the closest soldiers as if snatching it out of his hands. Immediately following, she twisted her body in the saddle, running the spear’s blade through the throat of an approaching clansman. As soon as she pulled the spearhead out, a bloody rain wetted the ground. A cloud of dust and sand immediately erased it.
It allowed Leitmeritz’s soldiers to witness a rare spectacle. Their lord boldly wielded a spear with a booming, knocking down one clansman after the other. It was a fairly unrefined performance when compared to Ludmila Lourie, who was also known as spear danseuse, and also showed some openings, it possessed more than enough finesse to deal with savage tribe men.
Without missing the moment when the enemy’s charge came to a halt, Elen ordered the retreat once again, and had a soldier bring her a new sword.
The soldier, who held out the sword to her, said with flushing cheeks, “You were beautiful.”
“Tell your family all about it once we get back to Leitmeritz.” Elen accepted the sword with a laugh.
At this moment, there was new development at the tribes’ left wing which had been running against Leitmeritz’s army. More than 300 tribal warriors started to move on their own device. Losing their temper over their allies not making the desired progress, they planned to attack Leitmeritz’s army from the side.
However, this attempt ended in failure. A merciless rain of arrows rained down on the bolters who were drawing close to Leitmeritz’s right side by drawing a curve. Within a time of ten breaths, a hundred warriors kissed the soil, and on top of that, around the same number squatted down on the spot.
Elen had assumed the possibility of an attack by a detached unit in advance and made preparations in that direction. Leitmeritz’s army being able to instantly cope with the new situation was owed to Rurick handing out orders in the rear.
The hundred clansmen, who had barely managed to struggle through the shower of arrows, gambled everything on a charge, but at this point their movement already lacked any kind of coherence. When Leitmeritz’s soldiers lined up their shields and thrust out their spears, they were repelled without having any chance to do what they came to do and were forced to fall back, their bodies riddled with injuries.
──It looks like Liza’s words were true.
Elen muttered in her mind as she watched the clansmen scurry away.
“It’s said that a new chief often doesn’t organize detached units. Though the reason is split into the new chief wanting to place all warriors under his command to show off his authority as chief and him being unable to form detached units because he doesn’t have any adjutants he can trust,” Liza had explained.
Once Václav, the new chief of the tribes, learned of Leitmeritz’s army retreating repeatedly, he withdrew 2,000 warriors from the center and sent them to the left wing. Because of this, the tribes’ forces in the center shrunk down to 4,000, but even so, they still outnumbered Lebus’s army threefold.
If they could crush Leitmeritz’s army, the tribes would be able to attack Lebus’s army from the left and the front at the same time in the next step. They’d probably be able to annihilate Lebus’s army by surrounding them in a half circle while relying on their huge numbers. If you also considered that Leitmeritz’s battle array was the thinnest within Arma Zirnitra’s deployment, Václav’s judgment was correct.
Upon the sound of horns, the tribes’ left wing halted its advance. Elen felt that the enemy’s movement was strange, but she decided that she should make the best out of this precious break. Her silver hair was covered by a faint layer of dust and clung to her face because of all the sweat. She was gasping with her shoulders heaving.
Unwilling to waste even the time and effort on brushing up her hair, Elen ordered a further retreat. Moreover, she had injured soldiers fall back to the rear, replacing them with those who still had enough stamina left. In addition, she had the soldiers replace their shields with new ones. More than 30% of the prepared shields had already become useless. This was proof of how tenaciously her soldiers had been enduring the tribes’ savage onslaught.
By now a distance of around 100 alsin to the tribes’ left wing had opened up. Elen widened her eyes. The tribal warriors, who had stood at the frontline until then while glaring at them and baring their hatred, fell back and fresh warriors stepped out in front.
“Look just how much time they need to shift their ranks,” Elen sneered, but emotions resembling nervousness and irritation colored her ruby eyes.
The enemy supreme commander’s aim was as plain as daylight. Just when the leading group had run out of steam, he swapped them out for rear units that were still brimming with stamina and fighting spirit. The strategy was to beat the enemy by tiring them out through constant, fierce attacks. Elen asked herself how long Leitmeritz’s soldiers, who were largely outnumbered, would be able to last.
Suddenly Elen frowned. She could feel the change in the battlefield’s atmosphere with her own skin.
“Don’t falter!” Elen called out to her men while brandishing her blood-stained sword. “These guys are nothing but worthless scum whose sole advantage lay in their big numbers! You guys are a lot stronger than them!”
Leitmeritz’s soldiers answered their lord’s encouragement with loud, spirited yells.
Elen didn’t prattle some nonsense in order to raise the morale of her soldiers. Leitmeritz’s soldiers were clearly superior when it came to competency as warriors. For this very reason they had persisted until now without collapsing. It was Elen’s duty to make them exhibit their mettle for a little while longer.
The clansmen roared, and charged while holding their battleaxes and clubs aloft. They closed the distance of a hundred alsin at a frightening rate. Leitmeritz’s soldiers formed a shield wall while huddled together with those behind supporting those in front, all in an attempt to stop the flood swooping down on them.
An abnormal crashing sound drowned out almost all other sounds. Helmets and armors were smashed. Flesh got squashed. Bones broke. Just like there existed Leitmeritz soldiers who had their head bisected by a clansman’s battleax, clansmen had spears penetrate their heads from the nose all the way out to the back.
However, limited to only this moment, the biggest number of people got crushed, regardless of whether they were tribal warriors or Leitmeritz’s soldiers. Neither armor nor triple-layered fur was of much use here. Amidst a blinding cloud of dirt and dust, those who didn’t die wielded their weapons with the corpses of friend and foe at their feet. Those who couldn’t move any longer had speckled patterns of mud and blood painted on their bodies.
Within a cacophony of bellows and screams, spears snapped, clubs broke, swords split, and shields cracked. Some stumbled over corpses, others injured their legs through discarded weapons. The battle instantly gained in ghastliness, and the way how the fallen stopped moving looked as if their life had been siphoned away by the land.
Elen kept slaying one clansman after the other in the middle of the overheated battlefield while ordering a retreat for the umpteenth time.
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