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Morganita Burning
Azioni libro
Inizia a leggereLunghezza: 277 pagine4 ore
- Editore:
- Gilbert M. Stack
- Pubblicato:
- Dec 6, 2018
- ISBN:
- 9780463901076
- Formato:
- Libro
Descrizione
25% off if pre-ordered by 12/6/18. The long-feared war has erupted and Prefect Marcus Venandus and his newly raised legion are on the front lines of the fighting. After the successful conquest of a fortified border town, Marcus leads his men deep into Morganitan territory, part of a daring plan to secure Amatista’s rear by eliminating its major northern opponent before its other foes can join in the fighting. Yet will his new infantry prove up to the task? Despite new weapons and the strategies of far off Aquila to direct them, Marcus’ men are badly inexperienced and riven with the same deep-seated racial prejudices that embroil all of the peoples of the north. With just as many enemies within as without, can Marcus find the path to victory?
Informazioni sul libro
Morganita Burning
Lunghezza: 277 pagine4 ore
Descrizione
25% off if pre-ordered by 12/6/18. The long-feared war has erupted and Prefect Marcus Venandus and his newly raised legion are on the front lines of the fighting. After the successful conquest of a fortified border town, Marcus leads his men deep into Morganitan territory, part of a daring plan to secure Amatista’s rear by eliminating its major northern opponent before its other foes can join in the fighting. Yet will his new infantry prove up to the task? Despite new weapons and the strategies of far off Aquila to direct them, Marcus’ men are badly inexperienced and riven with the same deep-seated racial prejudices that embroil all of the peoples of the north. With just as many enemies within as without, can Marcus find the path to victory?
- Editore:
- Gilbert M. Stack
- Pubblicato:
- Dec 6, 2018
- ISBN:
- 9780463901076
- Formato:
- Libro
Informazioni sull'autore
Gilbert M. Stack has been creating stories almost since he began speaking and publishing fiction and non-fiction since 2006. A professional historian, Gilbert delights in bringing the past to life in his fiction, depicting characters who are both true to their time and empathetic with modern sensibilities. His work has appeared in more than a dozen issues of Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine. He lives in New Jersey with his wife, Michelle, and their son, Michael.
Correlati a Morganita Burning
Anteprima del libro
Morganita Burning - Gilbert M. Stack
author.
Dedication
This book is dedicated to David Eddings for his battle scenes in the Belgariad which fueled my imagination for decades after I read them. It’s also for anyone who has wondered just why the legionnaires were so superior to their contemporaries beyond their borders. With your shield or on it, Marcus!
Table of Contents
Dedication
Map of the Jeweled Cities of the North
Chapter One: Cavalry!
Chapter Two: Kill the Horse, Castrate the Rider
Chapter Three: You Ran From Infantry
Chapter Four: The Biggest Risk We’ve Taken
Chapter Five: He Drew His Knife
Chapter Six: How Much Time Do We Have?
Chapter Seven: Stand and Fight!
Chapter Eight: Horsemen Coming
Chapter Nine: We’re Going to Harrow Morganita
Chapter Ten: I Know Why You Don’t Like Marcus
Chapter Eleven: Burn the Town!
Chapter Twelve: What about the Infantry?
Chapter Thirteen: The Chaos We Are about to Cause
Chapter Fourteen: It Will Be Child’s Play
Chapter Fifteen: He Would Demonstrate Their Error
Chapter Sixteen: We Can’t Just Kill Them
Chapter Seventeen: Far too Big a Chance
Chapter Eighteen: Raise Me These Ransoms
Chapter Nineteen: We Have Asked the City to Ransom You
Chapter Twenty: They Had Been Invited Here to Discuss Treason
Chapter Twenty-One: We Have Brought You a Gift
Chapter Twenty-Two: To the Destruction of Thegn Chilperic
Chapter Twenty-Three: We Have to Move Fast
Chapter Twenty-Four: Things Just Got a Lot More Difficult
Chapter Twenty-Five: Do You Remember the Penalty for Dereliction of Duty?
Chapter Twenty-Six: Outside the Walls
Chapter Twenty-Seven: Can You Do It Again?
Chapter Twenty-Eight: Make Way for the Cavalry
Chapter Twenty-Nine: We Are All Doomed
Chapter Thirty: I Made the Error Myself
Chapter Thirty-One: What Do You Think They’re Doing?
Chapter Thirty-Two: I Was Willing
Chapter Thirty-Three: Bring Me One of the Fucking Legionnaires
Chapter Thirty-Four: Gota Don’t Slaughter Their Gota Prisoners
Chapter Thirty-Five: I’ll Find Someone You Do Care About
Chapter Thirty-Six: When an Aquilan’s Ripped Apart
Chapter Thirty-Seven: Draw Your Spears and Swords and Charge!
Chapter Thirty-Eight: The Only Option Left to Us
Epilogue One
Epilogue Two
About the Author, Gilbert M. Stack
About the Map Maker, Chris L. Adams
Other Works by Gilbert M. Stack
Contact Gilbert M. Stack
Map of the Jeweled Cities
The bedrock of Prefect Marcus Venandus’ success was his lifelong adherence to legion wisdom: A legion marches on its stomach. A legion without discipline is a mob. The best way to keep a secret is not to share it.
And of course his oft quoted favorite, Speed is the key to victory.
Seneca Liberus
Chapter One
Cavalry!
Cavalry!
Marcus’ head whipped around from his conversation with Senior Mago Efraín Estudioso to see the lead elements of a troop of enemy Gota cavalry riding over the crest of the hill to bear down upon his column of infantry. Even as his brain questioned why his scouts had failed to give him any indication that the enemy was this close in enough strength to attack his legion, his mouth began shouting orders. Form square! Form square!
It was a formation that his Black Hat Legion had practiced literally hundreds of times over the past winter, but this was the first time his men had been compelled to do so with the enemy charging down upon them in the open field. It would make a sharper test of their discipline than Marcus truly wanted to endure at this stage of their training. Despite their crushing victory at Centinela, the legion remained a very green fighting force.
Without waiting to see if his instructions were being followed, Marcus turned to one of the half-Gota, half-Gente messengers he’d borrowed from Thegn Beremund after the cavalry of the main army finally met up with him in Centinela. He’d been horrified at the laggard pace of the supposedly swiftest wing of the Thegn’s forces, begrudging every single day it had cost him in getting the legion back in the field where it could press against the unprepared defenses of southern Morganita. No one in the Jeweled Cities truly seemed to understand that most basic of legion mantras: Speed is the key to victory.
So now an enemy reaction force had pulled itself together and he was going to have to learn if his highly touted innovations were really going to change the basic equations of northern combat. Don Leo, find Lord Evorik, extend my complements, and inform him that the enemy cavalry is attacking the infantry.
Marcus hated having to waste time making his orders polite, but he had discovered that in the Gente’s ultra-status-conscious culture, the addition of a mannerly phrase actually speeded up the acknowledgement of his instructions. Yet he couldn’t be diplomatic only with his Gente officers, so he had been forced to insert the new form of address into all his orders.
The messenger saluted in the Aquilan fashion Marcus had taught his men, clenched fist over his heart, and immediately rode off to the west in the opposite direction that the cavalry was approaching.
Marcus returned his full attention to his fighting men, watching with approval as they scrambled to form lines designed specifically to protect them from attacking cavalry. On the outer lines of the square, Marcus’ heavy infantry—composed entirely of highly disciplined Qing and armed with sword and the large legion shields—took their places, bracing for impact. Legionnaires armed with long boar spears took their places behind them. For now those spears were pointed high into the air but as the enemy approached, they would lower into place forming a deadly hedgerow of protection stretching far out in front of the ranks of their shield band brothers. In the center of the square the Gente archers took their formations, quickly stringing their bows and grabbing arrows even as their vigils shouted for them not to draw their bows but to wait for their commands.
As his men got ready, the Gota finished coming over the hill. There were no more than three hundred of them—one-tenth the size of Marcus’ infantry—but the Gota were well used to assaulting foot soldiers and had developed tactics for delaying, harassing and routing them even when the numbers favored the infantry so strongly. Marcus watched with interest while the attacking force spread out in their own formation. Since he had no baggage train for them to strike, Marcus believed the Gota’s best course of action would be to make darting strikes at the front and the rear of his formations, loosing arrows if they had them, or coming closer to threaten the legionnaires with their lances. This would not be effective. His archers would whittle them down with each pass, but without greater numbers, it was the best option the enemy had available to them. Instead, they appeared to be planning to charge directly into his deceptively fragile lines.
He smiled.
Matters could not be working out better for him if he had designed the enemy tactics himself. It would take precision timing on the part of his men to wring the greatest advantage from this opportunity, but that was why he’d been drilling them all winter. Beside him, Senior Mago Efraín began to ask a question, but Marcus held up a hand to deter him. It was almost time. The horsemen were only a few hundred yards away…
Ready boar spears!
He shouted to prime the men for the next order and was frustrated to see a smattering of spears immediately lower into the braced position designed to receive an enemy charge. Immediately the least experienced of his vigils began shouting at the men to raise their spears back to the ready position, spreading confusion in his ranks at the absolute worst moment. To counter this, Marcus immediately gave the next order.
Lower spears! Brace for charge!
Immediately the outer line of shield banders drew their swords and firmed up their long shields to protect themselves and the men behind them. The spears wavered up and down for a moment then settled into the sharp hedge of blades—butt end firmly braced against the ground, sharp iron points extended outward toward the enemy at a level where the horses would have to impale themselves if their riders were to reach the legion’s lines. They had done this successfully in the streets of Centinela just over a week ago, but it was a very different experience here in the open fields where the enemy was not hemmed in by buildings to left and right.
A handful of arrows launched early, triggering a hasty volley from most of the rest of the archers. These arrows were all wasted as the Gota were not yet in effective range of the weapons. Everything was happening about three seconds earlier than Marcus would have preferred but it would be worse than useless to waste time bemoaning such things now. Instead he gave the commands his Gente legionnaires should have waited for. "Draw bows! Take aim! Kill the horses!"
A second volley of arrows launched into the sky as the Gota horsemen charged into range. Most of the arrows fired too high, their men disobeying orders despite their training to try and kill a rider instead of dropping the horses to the ground and taking a warrior out of the battle. Some, however, perhaps as many as a quarter or a third, shot true, injuring twenty or thirty horses and causing chaos in the front of lines of the approaching cavalry.
The enemy commander must have been pretty good for he sized up the situation confronting him instantly and the whole line of approaching cavalry veered north on his command—racing no more than fifty yards outside the perimeter of the square. The vigils commanded the archers to launch at them again, but it is far more difficult to hit horsemen racing past a man at full gallop then it is to hit him riding straight toward you. Add to that that more than half of the archers continued to aim high at the human riders and only a handful of mounts were brought down as the Gota rounded the front of the square looking for some advantage.
They found it in the breakdown of discipline that infected those who had previously guarded the far side of the square. They had turned their heads to watch the approaching cavalry and their inexperienced vigils were complicit in the crime, gawking at the unfolding battle instead of forcing their men to focus on their own critical responsibilities in the formation. Senior Aquilan vigils sought to firm up the ranks again, but it was truly a race now. Could the hedge of spears be brought back into proper line before the Gota cavalry hit the far corner of the formation and broke it?
The horsemen cut in sharp, seeking to overrun the northwest corner of the square. One more flight of arrows leapt out to knock down a handful of additional horses just as they—
The collision between horsemen and spears broke across the field of battle like a clap of thunder. Horses and men screamed in pain and fear and Marcus’ line crumpled—folding in on itself from the weight of the attacking horses—but it didn’t break.
The shield banders raised their shields to fend off the attacking Gota swords and chopped viciously at the legs of the mounts in front of them. Struck by how close they had just come to utter calamity, Marcus hesitated for a moment, wondering if his men were up to his next command. Then he decided he really had no choice and ordered, First phalanx, kill the bastards!
With a great shout, the Qing of the squares swarmed the Gota, chopping with their swords and stabbing with their spears. It took only a very few seconds for the enemy commander to understand he had miscalculated and to order the retreat. It was the most dangerous moment for the legion. Their formation was gone, and the horsemen were loose in the field again. If their commander could pull the riders back into a cohesive unit, Marcus’ men were as vulnerable as could be.
Fortunately, the Gota had had enough. Riding in small groups, they retreated back the way they had come, finally disappearing over the hill. All the while, the men of the Black Hat Legion jeered them on.
Chapter Two
Kill the Horse, Castrate the Rider
You did it!
Senior Mago Efraín Estudioso congratulated Marcus, a huge grin upon his face. When I saw that cavalry charge, I thought they would split us apart like an overripe melon.
Marcus wanted to share in that grin, but the truth was, the Gota had almost done what the Mago feared. He called up another of his messengers and sent him off with instructions to Teniente Lysander ordering him to check on the enemy men and horses cut down during the Gota’s initial approach. Surviving men needed to be captured so they could be interrogated. Injured horses needed to be put out of their misery. Everyone needed to be looted.
Instructions given, he turned back to Efraín. As with most actions, they did some things well and they did some things poorly. I’ll discuss it with the officers and the men after we make camp tonight.
It was the sort of thing he wanted to do immediately, but the legion was in the field and the Gota could literally return at any time. He didn’t think they were coming back today, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t.
It would be best to wait…
****
Marcus surveyed his roughly three thousand men as he mounted a large boulder in the middle of the parade ground inside the camp they’d erected at the end of the day’s march. The outer wall was composed of a long ditch which the men had thrown up with an alacrity which would have satisfied any Aquilan commander. There had been no whining—not even any genuine complaining—as the legionnaires bent their backs to the task and quickly erected the basic defensive work that would protect the camp from a sudden sortie by enemy horsemen.
Today,
he shouted, you men of the Black Hat Legion met the enemy in the field and defeated him.
Cheers erupted—starting with the Gente archers and quickly joined by the more numerous and far more taciturn Qing. Marcus let them congratulate themselves. It was a victory and he didn’t want to steal that from them when he drove home the hard lessons they needed to learn if they were to continue to triumph over the challenges to come.
When the legion quieted, he continued. I’m pleased with you!
The Gente started to cheer again, but the Qing understood that their commander was still talking and stayed quiet. This was the first battle of the full legion in the open field and you repelled the enemy.
They hadn’t done it without any losses—seven men injured and one dead. All had been hurt by the weight of horses crashing into the line. The death was a total accident. The broken shaft of a snapping boar spear had caught the neck of a shield bander and ripped out his throat. But one death was a small price to pay in any battle involving these numbers.
Three hundred Gota horsemen came over the hill to attack us and left fifty-two of their own dead when they raced away again with their tails between their legs.
The men cheered again—Gente and Qing alike—basking in their victory.
It was time to show them reality.
It should have been one hundred fifty!
Marcus shouted.
Not everyone heard him the first time, but the stunned silence that his words inflicted on those who did hear helped to quiet the crowd.
Marcus repeated himself, projecting his voice as loudly as he could. There should have been at least one hundred fifty Gota dead on the field and so few enemy horsemen should have never reached our lines to test them.
He pointed at the manos who had formed the primary line of defense. What happened?
he asked them, but kept speaking before anyone could think of answering. "You’ve practiced making the hedge of boar spears hundreds of times. Yet your spears rose and fell like a group of green recruits on their first day in training. You warned the Gota what was coming and their commander used that time to keep his men from coming fully into our trap."
He pointed at the Gente archers. "And you? Archers! Many of you made two critical errors. First you launched your arrows early and wasted our best chance to kill the Gota as they charged toward our lines. Launch too early and your arrows lack the punch they need to kill! Launch alone, instead of in a single wave of death, and you lose the opportunity to spread the chaos. When horses fall in numbers, the animals behind them trip and fall, magnifying the damage!
He paused to look them over, a trick he’d been taught by his grandfather that made each man think he’d made eye contact with them. But what’s worse, most of you aimed for the damn riders instead of their mounts! How many thousands of times have your officers told you—kill the horse!
The Gente frowned. Not a one of them ever wanted to waste his arrows on an animal when he might kill one of the hated Gota riders.
Marcus tried again. Who cares about the riders? Do you think a handful of dismounted Gota hold any threat at all to his legion? You kill the horse and you castrate the rider!
He caught sight of the sudden surprised smile on the face of Senior Vigil Diego—the best of his Gente officers—and he knew he’d just accidentally found the way to make the Gente do as he wanted here. He repeated his slogan. Kill the horse and castrate the rider! Say it with me!
Senior Vigil Diego bounced with excitement as he shouted the slogan back at Marcus. Kill the horse and castrate the rider!
He gestured with his hands encouraging his men to repeat the words with him. Kill the horse and castrate the rider!
By the third time he repeated what was obviously about to become the archers’ mantra, three thousand voices had joined theirs to his and Marcus’. Kill the horse and castrate the rider!
On the ground beside the boulder to Marcus’ right, Lord Evorik, the commander of the thousand-strong cavalry that the Association thegns had attached to Marcus’ legion—one thousand in addition to the two hundred Gota who served as Marcus’ scouts under Teniente Atta—frowned as the chanting continued.
Marcus didn’t even try to keep the grin off his face.
Seeing this Evorik shouted up to him, Just so long as they remembering which Gota they’re supposed to castrate!
Marcus laughed and turned back to his legion, making a quieting motion with his hands until the chanting lowered to a trickle and finally came to an end. If you archers have truly learned that lesson from this first battle, than our victory was ten times greater than the number of men you left dead on the field today.
They cheered again, chanting about castrating Gota with commendable relish. Marcus let them have their fun for another minute before shushing them again. Then he suddenly pointed at the manos of Qing whose failure of discipline had encouraged the Gota to try and break open their corner of the square. "And you? Why were you watching the battle when you were supposed to be holding your section of the square? Don’t you trust your brother legionnaires to hold the shield wall? They trusted you to do your part and you let them down!"
Even from this distance he could see men blanch at his accusation.
You wavered!
Marcus told them. "You wavered, and that Gota lord was sharp enough to see his chance and try his luck against your spears. Had he had a hundred more men, he might have broken the square because you didn’t hold your line the way we’ve taught you to!"
Marcus had to take a moment to calm himself. This truly was the most serious mistake that had been made this afternoon. The confusion among the first spear banders in establishing their hedge of spear blades had been rectified by their officers. The poor target discipline of the archers had lowered the enemy body count, but had still been sufficient to turn the Morganitans away. But this final error had caused a fracture in the square that almost cost Marcus his legionnaires to a pathetic three hundred horsemen.
He tried again.
Hai raggiunto la fine di questa anteprima. Registrati per continuare a leggere!
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