The Death of Chaos

5.Death of Chaos

 

 

 

 

 

LXXII

 

 

Northwest of Renklaar, Hydlen [Candar]

 

 

 

BERFIR WAITS BEHIND the heavy earthen revetment as the latest barrage from the Hamorian long guns walks its way up the left side of the trenchworks. The shells are lofted, falling from the heavens like the thunderbolts of the long-dead angels-or like the spears of the demons of light.

 

The screams and moans of the Hydlenese troops are lost in the pounding explosions of the cannon.

 

Crumpt! Crumpt! Crumpt!

 

With each explosion, dry soil geysers into the sky, and a plume of dust drifts back almost into each shell crater in the hot stillness of midday.

 

Overhead, the white-gold sun burns in the bright blue-green oven of heaven, and the dust drifts slowly southward in the light wind, over the red-clad troops, bringing with it the odor of dust, of blood, and corruption.

 

A rocket arches into the sky, then drops toward the western Hamorian gun position, falling short by a dozen cubits, and spraying flame across the earthworks. Soldiers duck, then reappear, untouched.

 

Nearly a dozen rockets arc toward the Hamorian guns before one hits, and a wedge of flame and black smoke flares skyward on the west flank of the Hamorian position.

 

“Take that, sundevils!” Berfir smiles, and his hand strays toward the hilt of the big blade he still wears in the shoulder harness.

 

Now the shells walk toward the Hydlenese rocket batteries, even as more rockets impact uselessly on and around the earthworks that protect the two Hamorian batteries.

 

Crumpt! Crumpt!

 

The big shells drop inexorably closer and closer to the Hydlenese rocket launchers until they finally strike the emplacement. Soil, rag-doll figures, dirt, and smoke erupt into the sky. Then, fire, sparks, and smaller explosions wash across the left side of the Hydlenese lines.

 

The Duke sprints toward the carnage, ignoring the still-falling shells, his blade out for emphasis as he bellows orders. “Re-form with the right battery. Re-form at the right!”

 

Soldiers stagger past him, blank-faced.

 

Berfir thwacks one-not a solid Yeannotan, thank darkness-with the flat of the big sword. “Re-form with the right battery! Now!”

 

The soldier reaches for his own empty scabbard before his eyes refocus on the tall Duke. “Ah... yes, ser. Yes, ser!”

 

Slowly, the serjeants repeat the refrain, as the two remaining rocket officers and a handful of soldiers trudge southward behind the remaining earthworks toward the heavier earthworks of the right rocket battery.

 

The Hamorian guns continue to boom, and the shells scream downward, creating a zigzag pattern of craters across the front of the Hydlenese earthworks, as the shells walk back toward the other rocket battery.

 

With the impacts, more dust drifts across the Hydlenese lines.

 

Berfir turns and walks back from the turned soil and torn bodies of the left rocket emplacement to the command revetment, ignoring the handful of officers who await him. He looks down at the big sword, helplessly, and then resheathes it. He walks to the crude slit embrasure in the earthworks.

 

The plumes of smoke from the distant hillside drift across the churned ground of the field, across the abandoned cottage and the shattered remnants of a small barn.

 

“Ser?” The words rasp from the officer in red, his uniform coated in dust, who stumbles up to the Duke. “The scouts report... they're bringing up another battery of the guns.”

 

“When will they be in place?” asks Berfir tiredly.

 

“Probably not until late today, maybe early tomorrow.”

 

“Should we pull back now, or wait for darkness?” Berfir blots the dirt and sweat off his forehead with the forearm of his left sleeve.

 

“Ser... if you wait much longer...”

 

“I know... I won't have any troops left.”

 

“Yes, ser.”

 

“Sound the retreat. Try and keep them on the river road. I'd like to have some forces left by the time we reach Hydolar.”

 

“Hydolar?” asks the officer.

 

“You think we can defend Renklaar with all those ships they brought to Freetown?”

 

“Hydolar?” repeats the officer. “That means we're giving them the Ohyde Valley?”

 

“Hydolar-unless you can find a way to lead a successful charge against their guns and rifles.” Berfir looks back through the slit. The shell explosions continue their slow walk across the hillside.

 

 

 

 

 

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