Knights of Aralia Book II: Evil Rising

Chapter XI: Destiny's King

So, this was it. The battle he had been anticipating for months was here at last!

From across the shallow stream, Lord Caritus surveyed his enemy’s force with almost dismissive coolness. This was no mere arrogance on his part. He knew perfectly well how formidable the army before him was, with an estimated thirty-five thousand troops, a quarter of whom were cavalry, plus five thousand from the neighbouring Kingdom of Baroland. He had not counted on their being here, but it made no difference. Even outnumbered over two-to-one as he was, Lord Caritus did not fear defeat in the least. It simply wasn’t possible anymore. Of this he was now certain.

The Army of Northern Cairaga, as it had come to be known, had crossed into Draakland just two weeks before. It had met scant resistance until a hastily assembled army had met them at a dried-up riverbed called the Islaag. They had outnumbered him by a little less there, but still their efforts had been commendable. The Drakonic commanders had attacked General Dmitriov’s cavalry as they climbed up the opposite riverbank, hoping to crush them ere they could re-establish their formations. But the timely intervention of Lord Caritus’s horsemen had ensured his main force got across intact.

One bold officer there had made directly for Caritus and nearly severed his neck with an axe. But Colonel Kowansky had ensured that all he got was a missing arm for his trouble. Thereafter victory had come swiftly and decisively, proving to Caritus that the Arden Himself must be on his side. It was as simple as that.

“Colonel Kowansky,” he spoke to his subordinate now. “Give the signal for the infantry to advance, then tell General Dmitriov to hold his cavalry back until we are engaged.”

“Right away, lord!” replied Kowansky, who was off in a flash.

Caritus resumed his vigil over the enemy lines. He could picture the elected Drakonic commander, Haakonson, somewhere over there doing the same. His face grew tense, and he squinted for a second. Was that some sort of movement over there? He at first debated whether it was just a trick of the dust in the wind, but then saw clearly it was not. The enemy horsemen were charging his left flank! He turned to another messenger.

“Tell the infantry to advance!” he ordered. “They are not to assist Dmitriov, but attack at once, understand?”

“Yes sir!”

The subordinate took off, though the moment he did so the signal went out for the offensive to begin anyway. The infantry, in their perfect rows, began to move forward at a steady pace, even as the enemy cavalry gathered speed to hit Dmitriov’s troops.

“Wedge formation!” Caritus cried out to his own cavalry, who quickly rearranged themselves into an arrow shape with the king at the tip. “Forward!”

The cavalry started off at a slow walk behind their leader, not entirely certain of his intentions, but sure with all their hearts that it was the right thing. At this sluggish pace they fell steadily behind the infantry. Casting a glance to the left, they could see the dry dust of the tundra being kicked up by the cavalry engagement on the far flank. But that did not concern them, and they did not diverge from their forward-bound course as the infantry began to cross the stream unhindered. Caritus then sped up to a trot.

A cry went up as the first ranks reformed on the opposite bank, then both Cairagan and Drakonic forces charged to meet each other on the open plain. This was just what Caritus had been waiting for, and he increased his pace to a canter. They made straight for the enemy left flank, the place where the Barolanders had formed up. The Barolanders made no move to stop them, unsure whether this was a genuine attack or a mere feinting manoeuvre. But as Zwaart’s hooves splashed through the ankle-deep waters trickling through the streambed, he raised his sword.

“Uuuraaah!” he shouted the Cairagan war cry as he moved into a full gallop.

“Uuuraaah!” repeated his men as they likewise sped up.

The enemy now knew that this was no mere feint, and formed up to repel the attack. But they themselves had very few horsemen, and these were not about to go head-to-head with a mass of veteran Cairagan riders. So, they formed up in an admirably disciplined wall of shields and spears, and awaited their foes with all the courage they could muster.

Their wait was not a long one.

“Ride, men of Cairaga! Ride to victory!” shouted Caritus just before he pierced the enemy lines. The Barolanders had but a second to contemplate their fate before being utterly swept away by the surging tide of hooves and swords. The rush was such that even the light Barolander cavalry could not make a dent as it attacked the outermost flank of the charge.

Things went by in a blur for the adrenaline-fueled King of Cairaga. To the left and right he could hear men dying, and splashes of blood filled his vision, some caused by the swinging of his own sword. But all this mattered not to him. All that mattered was to keep pressing forward, delving deeper and deeper into the enemy ranks until they stopped him or fled.

As it turned out, neither happened before he emerged into a clear, open field. He had ridden so hard so fast that his leading elements had swept clean through the Barolandic forces and out the other side, effectively splitting them in two. Indeed, to his left and behind a fair distance away, he could see the infantry engagement going strong in the centre. He slowed down to assess the situation and allow his men to regroup.

“The Barolanders are broken, sir!” exclaimed one officer in triumph. “Shall we encircle and annihilate them?”

But Caritus, gaze fixed on the centre line, had other ideas.

“No, Captain. Regroup and follow me!”

So, the Cairagan heavy cavalry reformed around its king, fighting off a few scattered and desperate assaults by the mostly retreating Barolanders. When he felt he had gathered enough strength, he raised his sword again and called out “This way, Cairaga! To me!”

Again they started off, this time going immediately into a gallop. With but a single goal in mind, Caritus rushed directly forward, paying no heed to the whirlwind of noise and dust flying about. He knew the best way to end this battle—possibly even the war—and that way lay before his horse’s hooves. He had only to pursue it. His officers, slowly realizing his intention, sped onward with soaring enthusiasm.

The Draga had also discerned his intention, however, and reacted accordingly. Commander Haakonson directed some Drakonic skirmishers to block Caritus’s way. This they did, but the determined Cairagans quickly tore through them like a knife through warm butter. Haakonson watched with terrified fascination as his foe continued on a course directly toward him.

“Commander, what do we do?” asked one of his seconds.

“Do?” repeated Haakonson as though the word were utterly foreign to him.

“Commander! The Cairagans will soon be upon us!”

In that moment, something happened that had never happened before: Haakonson lost his nerve.

“My friends,” he replied, clutching the reins of his horse. “I suggest we save our hides to fight another day.”

“Sir?”

“Sound the retreat.” And without another word, the big blue Draga took off as fast as his mount could carry him.

“But sir!”

However, it was already too late. Haakonson was fleeing as quickly as he could in a most uncharacteristic manner toward the distant Great River.

“What do we do?” asked a subordinate of the others.

Haakonson’s second-in-command, a hard-headed older dragon named Hauk, shook his head in consternation.

“We stay and fight!” he determined.

But at that very moment, the Cairagan infantry, inspired by the sight of their leader smashing through the Barolanders, began to press the Draga hard, and even started to envelop their left. In a panic, some of the Draga began to flee.

“Stop that!” shouted Hauk above the ruckus. “Stay put, damn you!”

“Stay put if you like, sir,” said one of the younger sub-commanders. “I’m with Commander Haakonson!”

And with that, several more young officers deserted the field.

“Why you accursed, lily-livered...” Hauk blew a heated sigh and drew his sword. “Come and fight me if you will, Cairagans! This dragon is more than ready for the likes of you!”

But a moment later, he was lying motionless upon the ground, blood gushing from a sword wound in his neck.

“Well done, my lord!” cried the Cairagan captain when they had again halted. “The day is ours!”

Caritus shook his head, panting heavily.

“The commanders...After them!”

Ere they could sound another charge, however, a rider approached from the left flank. Caritus raised his sword at first, until he realized it was a Cairagan.

“Sire! General Dmitriov is hard pressed. He requests assistance at once!”

“Blast it all!” Caritus vented his frustration.

“Lord, if we pursue the commanders now, we could end Drakonic resistance today,” spoke the captain.

Caritus looked longingly after the now distant Draga fleeing on horseback. It was sorely tempting, but at last he shook his head.

“And lose half the army. That I cannot do. They can flee, but they’ll never run far enough. Come, Cairagans! Urah!”

And so they charged again, this time in a wide arc back toward their own lines. They did not attack the Draga who fled right past them—these were already as good as beaten—but instead struck at the rear right corner of the enemy ranks. This was enough.

More out of sheer panic than real danger, the Draga broke and sped off northward in complete disarray, followed swiftly by their cavalry. The Cairagan horsemen combed through their ranks, eliminating whatever pockets of resistance remained. With his job done, Caritus sank back into his saddle from utter exhaustion as he watched his men pursue the fleeing foe for half a mile before the approaching sunset stopped their chase.

“Congratulations, sire!” remarked Dmitriov when they were all together again at the day’s end. “You’ve done it again!”

“We all did it, General,” said Caritus humbly.

“Well, it was you who led us, lord.”

Caritus accepted the compliment with gracious silence.

“What next, Master General Caritus?” inquired Kowansky. “Where do we go from here?”

“First, we’re going to take a good long rest,” replied Caritus with a smile. “We’ve earned it, and the men doubly so. Then, first thing in the morning, I’m going to see you made into a brigadier general, my friend. That was a brilliant manoeuvre on their left you pulled today.”

Kowansky was shocked by these words, and could do naught but bow before his sovereign and idol. “Thank you, sire. With all my heart.”

“Will we be moving on Vissersaal then, sire?” asked General Kalinovsky.

“Not yet, good general. Commander Haakonson has but a shattered force under his command right now, and will take some time to recover. A few weeks at least: a few months at best. In the meantime, we must move swiftly and decisively to ensure this war does not become any more widespread than it already has.”

The generals leaned in closely across the table to hear his pronouncement with unbound excitement.

“Therefore,” he concluded, “following Colonel Kowansky’s promotion tomorrow, we will be making a little detour into the Kingdom of Baroland.”

And so, knowing that destiny was without doubt on their side, that was precisely what they made ready to do.