As a soldier ran up leading Erik’s mount, d’Lyes said, ‘That should be enough.’
The magician hurried to a position a short distance behind the fighting, risking an errant arrow for his troubles. He closed his eyes and started a chant, then put his hand in his shirt and pulled out a small leather pouch. Opening it, he reached inside and took out something - Erik couldn’t see what - and made several passes with his hands.
Suddenly a cloud of greenish-black smoke appeared at the crest of the barricade. Instantly those inside began to cough and retch. The smoke expanded, following the ridge line, and men on both sides fell back.
Then d’Lyes shouted, ‘Poison!’
Erik blinked in astonishment, then he shouted in the dialect of the invaders, ‘Poison! Poison! Withdraw! Withdraw!’
The cry was echoed up and down the line as men from both sides fell back. Erik wasted no time. He signaled up and down the line, crying, ‘Retreat! Retreat!’
The command echoed up and down the line, and the Kingdom Army withdrew from the barricade. Robert d’Lyes hurried to where Erik sat and said, ‘They won’t be fooled for long. When those men who are vomiting recover, they’ll be back.’
‘What was that you did?’
‘It’s a useful little spell designed to kill mice, rats, and other vermin in barns. If you breathe the smoke, you get very sick to your stomach for about an hour, but after that you’re fine.’
Erik was impressed. ‘Thank you for thinking of it.’
‘You’re welcome. It might be more useful if I could figure a way to make it more toxic, so the enemy would really be poisoned.’
‘Only if you also can figure out how to keep it on the correct side of the battlefield.’
‘Yes,’ said the magician. ‘I see the problem. Now what do we do?’
‘Run like hell,’ said Erik.
‘Very well,’ said d’Lyes, and he started running as fast as he could to where his horse was tied.
Erik gave the order and watched with relief as the men too wounded to walk were carried to the last of the baggage wagons. Others hurried to mount waiting horses. The archers in the rocks climbed down as fast as they could, and mounted also or joined the general withdrawal, depending on which units they served.
Erik saw the enemy fleeing to the west, many of them rolling on the ground, clutching their stomachs, in what they thought were death throes. A few of his own men, also incapacitated by the smoke, were helped to safety by their comrades.
Erik counted the minutes, and after ten had come and gone, he said, ‘Fall back!’
The light cavalry, spears at the ready, were scheduled to be the last units to withdraw before the horse archers. Erik passed them and saw tired, bloody men, but men with a look in their eyes that made his chest swell with pride. He saluted them, then cantered his horse toward town.
As he rode away, he saw firelight on the ridges, as the engineers torched their catapults and mangonels. The machines too big and difficult to move without dismantling were destroyed to deny them to the enemy.
Reaching Ravensburg, he saw men with torches at the ready. He glanced around his boyhood home as the baggage wagons rolled through the center of town, taking the wounded and the supplies to the next defensive position. Erik dismounted and loosened his horse’s girth, giving the animal a bit of rest. He led the horse to a trough and let him drink a little. Erik watched, waiting for the signal from his rearmost scout that the chase was on, when he would have to burn his boyhood town.
But time passed and no enemy approached. Erik considered they might be leery of approaching the place where d’Lyes had ‘poisoned’ them until they realized it was a ruse. That extra hour would gain them a precious advantage. When he judged they would safely be through, he shouted, ‘Order the archers and lancers to retire!’
A messenger rode off to the west, carrying word to the last of the Kingdom’s scouts to withdraw, and Erik rode toward the Inn of the Pintail. He reached it as a soldier stood ready to ignite hay piled against the fence and outer wall. Erik said, ‘Give that to me,’ indicating the torch.
The soldier did as ordered, and Erik threw the torch into the hay. ‘No one’s going to burn my home but me,’ he said. Then he turned and shouted, ‘burn it!’