140 Weaklings (1/2)
”Go, go! Move it!”
When Fadelio's scream ran across the clearing and across the fording, another of the older master craftsmen stumbled on the slick rocks of the stream and fell to his knees. At least the ghosts had constructed a rope across the waters for the commoners to pull along on. With their bodies secured, no one had been injured on their path through the shallow name river. However, after all this time the commoners still hadn't crossed the stream. Never before had Fadelio been this annoyed with the mortals. At last, he understood the contempt the lords had always shown towards them.
*Weaklings.*
Even so, Fadelio wouldn't give up on them. By now their lives weren't the most important issue, and neither was his commitment towards his lord. Now it was a matter of principle. How could he allow Pacha to win, the little idiot? The peacock king had been left to play tyrant for all his life, and it was high time someone finally stood up to him.
”Master, here they come!”
When Fadelio turned to the voice of the ghost warrior, the enemy had appeared from within the woods Though they had shown themselves out in the open, they looked anything but ready. Their enemies were long and gangly in stature, as their armors hung loose off their bony shoulders.
*Doable.*
Since they had sped up, they had become tough to catch. All Pacha could do was to equip his fast scouts and rush after them. The idiot king's scouts didn't have time to set up any ambushes, which was where their strengths lay. They would also be exhausted from the long march, so central confrontation would be costly for them as well, despite their superior numbers. Even so, now that they were this close, they would pose a constant threat. Fadelio and his ghosts would have to stand on defense and get themselves ready if they wanted to protect the commoners.
”All men to me!” Fadelio's deep voice ran across the shoreline, and the ghosts followed his command. While their ghost troop was also comprised of many scouts, almost half of them were good, proper warriors. And they had one more advantage: Pacha's troops looked loose, collected from various Pluritac territories and possibly the estates of the king's various allies. The ghosts, however, had been trained as one unit for years. At once their numbers collected into a solid formation, to bolster their strength. Only seconds after the enemy had appeared, they had taken a half-moon shape, to protect the crossing behind them.
Of course, the scouts on the other side did what scouts would do best: skirmish.
Once they had made their presence felt and saw that the ghosts wouldn't abandon the commoners to the waters, about ten of them marched out of the formation. Although they presented a crude mix of bows and spears, Fadelio would never underestimate them. This was the sort of weapon the scouts would be most experienced with, so the ghosts had done their own preparations.
”Shields!” the master shouted, and his warriors closed the gaps between them. About twenty of them raised their shields to form a solid wall of wood and metal between the two armies. The central shields had been reinforced with parts of their wagons. Though their size and instability would make them useless in open combat, they needed to deal with the skirmishing first and foremost. After all, they couldn't just charge the ranged enemy troops and leave the craftsmen unguarded.
To no avail, the arrows and spears struck the wood before them. At the same time, the cries of donkeys proved the fate of the animals who had carried the wood to this spot. While the loyal beasts made the ultimate sacrifice, the warriors pressed their bodies behind the shields and hoped they wouldn't get unlucky with a stray hit. As they waited, Fadelio looked behind. Within the stream, some of the commoners were frozen in shock, as they looked upon the horrors of war for the first time in their lives. At the same time, arrows rained down between the warriors and commoners, and splashed into the waters.
*Useless,* he thought, of both commoners and scouts. While the commoners were trying their hardest to get killed, the scouts did nothing but waste arrows. There was a reason for their half-moon formation after all. With their short-bows and throwing spears, the scouts would never get enough distance to reach the commoners. Not unless they wanted to get within charging distance of the warriors before them. Like this, they only wasted ammunition, and it would bring them ever closer to their doom.
Just like Fadelio thought, the hail of spears soon stopped, to only leave the rain of arrows behind. Since they had been on a forced march just to catch up to them, the scouts couldn't carry enough ammunition for a serious attack. If Pacha's troops wanted to make any sort of trouble for them, they would have to-
”Attack from the right!” he heard a shout from behind.
”Damn,” Fadelio cursed, and put aside his shield. Although he would be more vulnerable like this, he needed to see this for himself. While the sight of the ghosts had been blocked by their own shields, the enemy melee troops had used the chance to march around to their right flank. This was exactly what he had been worried about. Since they had to defend the entire ford with only a few dozen men, their formation was stretched thin as a twig, easy to break. All the enemy had to do was to mass on one spot and break through their ranks. This was just about the worst case scenario.
Just as he moved his shield back into position, he could feel a heavy object slam into it, and push him half a step back. His soles dug deep into the muddy sand.
”Damn again.” They hadn't run out of spears, they were only waiting for a good chance to use them. As soon as their center would turn to support their flank, the enemy would rain spears and arrows into their sides. Whoever was in charge of Pacha's scouts, they were a capable commander.
Annoyed, Fadelio holstered his axe and picked up the megaphone below his feet.
”Left flank! Charge! Center, after me!” As soon as his words had rang over the battlefield, the ghost formation sprang to life. While the center turned to support the enemy, he could hear screams of war from behind him, as their left flank rushed towards the skirmishers. Of course they wouldn't be able to catch specialized scout cultivators, but they didn't have to. All they needed was some time to drive them away until they could stabilize the flank.
However, they would have to work hard for it. When Fadelio rushed towards the shouts in his right ear, he could see the chaos of war he had been so far away from for the past year. Already the armored enemy had pushed back his own troops. The half-moon formation had been dented, about to break apart. While the enemy warriors lacked the physical strength to break through in their first charge, their superior numbers and the momentum from their speed were enough to buckle the defense of the ghosts. Already, the attack had left its traces. As he watched, another ghost was pushed to the ground by an enemy's shoulder. Before he could get back up, the scout's axe had lodged itself in his torso. This ghost had been the last to connect their lines. Another two steps for the enemy and their formation would be split.
”Chaaarge!”
With the heart of the desperate, Fadelio stormed into the gap. His mass shoved the enemy scout out of the way, back into several of his comrades. For a second, the raging waves of war turned gentle, as all focused on the giant beast that had arrived to tip the balance.