(13)

“Out of the way!” Someone cried outside Saurus’ pavilion. He was having his armour fitted by his servants this morning, steel plate clattered as it riveted and interlocked together. The weight of his armour on his body alerted him, shook him awake. Today was the day he would fight.

Saurus had lost count of the battles he had fought in, each one a branded memory in his mind. When Saurus thought about it retrospectively, the only colour he saw in those memories was red; accompanied with the sounds of yelling soldiers, some yells were born from the frenzy, others were pain washed with fear.

Alaric entered his pavilion, suited in his own armour. Saurus was pleased to see he had thrown a mail coat over his robes and equipped his steel breastplate. Alaric’s arms and legs were unprotected, but Saurus doubted he would see close combat. If all went well, Alaric wouldn’t even get a whiff of the enemy, his position was in the centre of the army—right in front of the archers but behind the foot soldiers.

“The wolves have been released,” Alaric said in a new ‘all-serious’ tone of voice. “They will scout our path ahead…my Lord.”

Saurus tightened one of his underarm straps and nodded. Now that his armour was set, he paced outside. It felt good to be in armour, good to feel so protected, but Saurus was not foolish enough to believe he was invincible, full plate or not. When his servants brought him his mare, she too was coated in some armour to protect her chest and neck, with him on her back the two of them would look most colossal.

The soldiers took longer to assemble today as expected, with many of the equipment being passed from baggage train (which mostly comprised of donkeys and mules) to each of the individual soldiers. Every soldier was expected to carry his or her own weight in armour and weaponry on siege day, and the only ones happy with this were the beasts of burden.

Before the sun took its place in the centre of the sky, they were off, with only the sinews of cloud above. After the news about the Sphene Dust or lack thereof, Alaric had centred a small pack of mules to carry what they had, keeping them tightly connected to the column for safety.

Wolves returned to commune their findings, as well to confirm the safety of the path ahead. Saurus was thankful no more went missing and assumed the Spider Queen must have amassed all her force around her. ‘She fear’s us’ Saurus told himself unconvincingly.

A war drumbeat from behind signalled their approach, Saurus sighed. He doubted if spiders were effected by the drum beats at all. Still, it reverberated a fire in his own heart; the beats seemed to fill his veins with confidence and fury.

Surrounding Saurus was his heavy cavalry or shock cavalry as some would say. These were usually used first when facing low armoured opponents, or when the enemy had formed into fortified ranks and shield walls. Saurus was confident in all his soldiers, but more so with his mounted ones. Each soldier earned their right to sit atop their respected horse, and even the ones he levied from Leeside all came from noble families, families that would rather die than been known to flee from battle. Behind Saurus was his main force of foot soldiers, separated by his captains into cohorts of fifty depending on their experience and equipment.

Most of Saurus’ army comprised of Empire men and woman, all of which were matched in equipment and training. The soldiers he levied however were much more diverse. All within fighting age but mismatched in terms of training and gear. He would use the less equipped soldiers as rear guards, relying heavily on his most skilled men to bare the frontlines. Men like that rarely broke and if the opportunity arose, they could retreat momentarily and re-join the fighting after a breath. It also gave the less disciplined men a sight to admire, perhaps inspire when it inevitably came to their turn to fight.

By late noon, Saurus and his cavalry broke free from some light brush and stepped out onto a flat marsh. The tree line raised behind him, and his army continued to spill out from the woodland like a red mist. Wetbrook stood before them and as scouted: her walls were high and still intact, but the rest of her made Saurus halt his horse, he could not believe what he was seeing.

Surrounding the circular wall of mortared stone that protected Wetbrook, an array of pale string filled the marshland. Mountains rose to kiss the clouds behind Wetbrook, and in the centre of town, something rose equally to kiss the sky. It looked like a tower—perhaps a turret—except it was held up by the same white string, and its peak widened out like a mace. Saurus could just about see freckles of movement. Black shapes scuttled and dashed between rays of light that hit the town in places.

“By the Gods,” said captain Windermere in utter disbelief. His own plate armour rattled as he pulled his horse to a halt. “To think that used to be a town once…with people.”

A shrill cry erupted from the town at the sight of them approaching, causing some of the horses to neigh and kick their disapproval at arriving at such a corrupted place. Even the light marshland seemed dry and drained of all vitality Saurus reflected. Saurus heard some of the soldier’s gasp when they broke from the woodland to gaze out at the consumed town.

“Form ranks,” He ordered, lowering his visor: a steel silver helm in the shape of a wolf. “Maintain scouts on the surrounding woodland.”

“Yes, my Lord!” Roared captain Windermere speeding off. Captain Tookean began his own call outs and the army exploded in movement. A heightened buzz emitted around the army, half fear, the other half, also fear. Saurus knew if he and his captains kept a show of confidence, the soldiers would emulate the behaviour. Alaric was also taking initiative despite this being his first battle. Saurus watched as he dismounted with some master’s and began removing his boots. He pointed at a spot where the archers had aligned and a small pack of mules arrived, each one laden with Sphene dust. The Master’s grabbed the casks and gingerly spread the Sphene dust into a circle no wider than a few feet.

Alaric spread his legs and let the Sphene Dust run over his feet and in between his toes. Saurus had seen this technique before. A Magus only needed to have the dust touch his skin for it to be viable, and if he stood in the dust, it gave him access to both arms. Saurus sat there mesmerised for a moment as the dust glittered from obsidian black to diamond blue as Alaric padded around it.

“Keep a watchful eye and don’t expend yourself, son,” Saurus called out through his visor when the Master’s retreated from earshot. Loud cracks and thuds were exploding all around them as the soldiers and horses moved about.

“I won’t my Lord,” Alaric replied not looking up at his father but instead kicking Sphene Dust lightly like a charging bull. When Saurus turned to leave when he heard his son add:

“I love you father.”

Saurus felt fortunate he was wearing his helm and he sped off to form with his cavalry, unable to reply with a solid voice. Today he was a Lord Commander, not a father.

On the way, he received roars of approval from the soldiers as he passed, all seemingly feeding on him their lust for battle. Saurus passed his bowmen, many of whom were adopted into the empire from the northern regions, regions renowned for its deadly winters and deadlier archers. Next, he passed a group of soldiers all preparing to wind their crossbows. Saurus was unfamiliar with these steel bows that required a mechanical contraption to draw. A scholar in the capital once said that they would: ‘Revolutionise warfare.’ Whatever that meant. He admitted they packed a more powerful punch than bows but they lacked the range and reload speed of its counterpart, a nifty invention by some military engineer but not revolutionary Saurus thought, least not when magic still held a vital role in warfare. Saurus had these crossbow act as the first contact with the enemy if they decided to charge his foot soldiers. After their initial flat volley, they would retreat behind the foot soldiers and join the archers in arching volleys.

“My lord!” Someone cried when Saurus joined his cavalry. Instead of searching for the caller, he only followed the eyes of everyone else, all of whom looked out at the town of Wetbrook. A man next to him raised a hand to point when Saurus saw it.

On the walls of Wetbrook he saw a black figure move, this one humanoid and clad in robes as dark as midnight. It was a woman he realised after raising his visor, she was looking out over the plains before her, observing the army that had arrived outside her lair. In unremarked silence, she raised her arms out to greet them and Saurus knew undoubtably, the battle was about to begin.