The Crown of blood

II

The horns sounded the alarm, ringing back along the column as it marched along the road. Donar grinned to himself at the thought of the consternation that would be going through the minds of the legionnaires below, especially those new recruits who had probably been looking forward to a march into Narun without a battle.

Nemtun had taken the bait, headstrong as always, and had come to the Pallion defile in the late afternoon the day after Donar and his Fifth had left Narun. Nemtun's column was stretched out, the veterans of the Second in the vanguard, the two new legions with their blue shields and freshly forged icons half a mile behind, unable to keep up with the pace of the experienced campaigners. This held back the other blooded legionnaires from the Fourth; the brother legion raised at the same time as Donar's Fifth for the conquest of Nalanor, taken by the Nemtun from Murian before his capitulation to Ullsaard.

Donar was disappointed that he could see no sign of Nemtun with the Second as they hurriedly moved from their ranks of march into a semi-circle of phalanxes facing coldwards towards the advancing companies of the Fifth. Clearly their captain hoped to hold position until reinforced by the following legions. What he didn't know was that Donar had already set in motion a plan to ensure that relief would be some time in coming.

"Let's show these spoilt braggarts what a real legion can do!" Donar shouted to his men as he led them down the long slope towards the road, striding with purpose beside his nephew in the first company.

To his right, black smoke hung in a pall over the Greenwater, where fires still burned fitfully amongst the piers and wharfs of Narun. Everything that wasn't needed had been loaded onto spare boats and rafts made from the logs of the camp wall, and set ablaze in the early hours of morning for maximum visibility, an hour after the last ships had been sent downriver. The conflagration had been something to behold, and Donar had enjoyed some banter with his men as they cheered the pops and explosions.

Looking to his left, along the road towards the Wall, the First Captain could see three hundred hand-picked men led by the legion's engineers and armourers, picking their way through the boulders at the steepest part of the defile. They carried kegs of fuel taken from the lava-throwers that had been set ablaze along with the rest of the camp baggage; the war machines were too heavy to be taken on the Fifth's hasty retreat that would come later in the day.

While the companies of the next legion in the column entered the rock-lined canyon at a fast march, the engineers lighted the tapers on their barrels and threw them down the slopes. Some exploded early, others caught on bushes and trees to detonate harmlessly, but dozens of the kegs rolled down onto the road, spraying hot burning fuel over the advancing legionnaires. Where the lava spilt across the pavement of the road, it spread into burning pools, halting further progress. Those soldiers that tried to pick their way around the blaze by climbing the slope were assailed by a barrage of bellows-arrows and slingshot from the men on the defiles.

There was no time to enjoy the view as Donar raised his sword to signal the charge. Five thousand legionnaires swept down the slope, falling upon the Second with shouts of "Fight for the Fifth!"

Donar could have remained with his second captains, directing the battle, but the temptation to pit himself in person against his foes had proved too much. The battle plan was simple and he would not be needed if things went well and could do little good if things went poorly. Having hacked down savages in Anrair and Mekha, this was his chance to prove himself against another legion, and his blood rushed through his body at the prospect of a proper fight. With the legion's battle cry on his lips, Donar plunged down the slope with his men.

The Second were not content to let fate alone decide their future. Their captain, a wily, political man called Rhantis who Donar had never liked, led five companies on a counter-attack, storming up the hillside to meet the Fifth head-on. Spear crashed against shield as the opposing phalanxes met, the impetus of those charging downhill meeting with the set pikes of those below.

Surrounded by a wall of spearpoints, Donar led the first company directly into the Second's own premier company, heading for their icon bearer. Wooden shafts splintered around him and a bronze pike head glanced from his helm as the two formations smashed together. Pushed onwards by his surging legionnaires, Donar was thrust into the middle of massive melee. He kicked a booted foot against the shield of the enemy legionnaire to his front, smashing it back into the face of the man beside his foe. Another wave of spear thrusts forced Donar into the cover of the shield carried by the man to his right, accompanied by more shivered shafts and broken pike tips.

"By the right!" Lutaan bellowed.

As one, the leftmost men in the phalanx stepped back a pace while those on the right flank heaved forwards, pushed into the enemy by eleven more ranks behind them. Though the movement was slight in the wider scheme of things, this slight change of angle caught the enemy unawares; they stumbled into the space created, allowing Donar's legionnaires to thrust their pikes into the gaps opened. Men of the Second fell, armour pierced, bodies streaming with blood.

These casualties, though relatively few in number, were enough to disrupt the momentum of the enemy phalanx. Donar and those around him in the front rank broke their shield wall and charged, smashing their shoulders into the shields of their foes to force them back a few more steps.

The company closed ranks again, the whole advance taking only a few heartbeats. The momentum continued to shift as the legionnaires of the Second were forced to step back to redress their ranks, but were given no time as Donar's company pushed them further and further down the slope towards the road, using their advantage of the higher ground.

"Beware to the left!" came a cry from behind Donar.

He could see nothing of what was happening, but guessed an opposing phalanx had broken the line and was about to charge. His phalanx stopped to receive this new threat. The men on that side turned their shields outwards, while the back ranks swung their pikes over the heads of those in front and angled them towards the oncoming enemies.

The force of the fresh impact shuddered though the tightly packed men and Donar felt the legionnaire behind him stumble. There were laughs as the man was dragged back to his feet by his companions. The inevitable push came, forcing Donar and the others to step to their right to compensate, as inexorably they were herded along the line of the slope. Ahead, the first company of the Second had rallied somewhat during the diversion and thrust forward with renewed vigour.

"Get at them!" Donar shouted, swinging his sword towards a helmeted head, the blade crashing along the top of a raised shield.

Another deafening crash rang in Donar's ears as the enemy to his left were in turn counter-charged and suddenly his formation was surging into the space vacated by their retreat. This sudden movement turned the enemy in front even further, and Donar could hear the shouts of his men as his legion's third company drove into the enemy from his right.

Step by excruciating step, the first company of the Fifth advanced down the slope, battering and heaving at their counterparts in the Second. The advance gathered pace until the legionnaires in front could no longer contain the pressure. Some lost their balance and tripped down the slope, others turned full around to run away, sensing that this engagement had been lost. With a hoarse shout, Donar urged his men after them, running down the slope, hacking at their backs with his sword.

A horn note, long and deep, cut through the blood pounding in Donar's ears. It was the general order to hold advance. Wondering what his captains were thinking, he ducked back through the lines of men behind, pushing through the ranks until he exited through the back of the phalanx.

The slope and road was littered with bodies from both sides, but it was the formations of men advancing through the right flank of his army that drew his attention. Three of his companies had made it all the way to the road, but had been met by a company from the Second held in reserve, while half a dozen companies from the Second had pushed their way up the hill around them, turning in an arc towards the rear of the line's centre. The first company and those around it were hideously compromised.

"Sound the rally!" Donar shouted, dashing up the slope towards the gaggle of second captains at the crest. "Bring the phalanxes back to the line!"

The captains could not hear him over the din of the battle, and sounded the command for "Halt advance" again. Neither pushing into the enemy to force a retreat nor falling back to mount a fresh attack, the companies of the Fifth were scattered across the hillside, only the centre forming a cohesive line. Screaming with anger, Donar sprinted up the hill, lungs bursting.

"Sound the fucking rally!" he bellowed over and over until he was within earshot of the hornblowers. Three short notes followed swiftly, but as he turned back towards the road, Donar could see it was too late.

Their formation disjointed, the Fifth were being enveloped on their left, where the enemy now had the advantage of the better ground. Those companies on the right could already see what was happening, and were breaking from the line, retreating coldwards towards the Greenwater. For the phalanxes in the centre, there was no escape. Assailed from both sides, their shield walls were quickly broken and a stream of men ran back up the hill as the rear ranks fled from the brutal fighting.

Donar watched in horror as the first company broke ranks and fell back. For a moment the icon of Askhos disappeared and Donar's heart sank, only for the golden icon to emerge from the mass of bodies, held aloft by his nephew.

As legionnaires poured up the slope, Donar was thankful to hear the Second's musicians ringing out the "Halt pursuit" call; Rhantis was more concerned with keeping his legion intact that catching his fleeing enemies.

Blood streaming from a cut across the bridge of his nose, Lutaan fell to his knees just in front of Donar, panting heavily, his shield gouged and split in one hand, the legion icon in the other. Donar helped his nephew to his feet.

"Come on, let's get out of here." The First Captain knew it was a bit pointless, but called out for the horns to sound the general retreat, for appearance's sake if nothing else.

He pulled Lutaan's useless shield from his arm and tossed it away, putting his shoulder under the man's arm to help him along. Between gasps, Lutaan laughed fitfully. He looked at Donar, his hand tightening reassuringly on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Uncle, don't listen to me again. This was a shit plan!"

Donar stared in wonder at Lutaan, and at the thousands fleeing up the slope. Despite the defeat that this had turned out to be, he guessed he'd only lost a fifth of his men — so far. More would turn up missing before the legion came together at Denerii, but it was far from being a disaster.

"All things considered," he said to his nephew, "I have to agree with you."