Five days after the “battle” of Fuspmar, most of the northern expedition could be counted casualties. The flood killed less than a quarter of the men, but it scattered them. They ceased to be an army. The forces of Bharrak, though still vastly outnumbered, never met a group more than half their size. There was no way for the invader to hide; they could not match the Fusp in their own terrain. Although these things were significant, they were not the real killers.
While Ket prepared his storm, he willed the land into an early spring. The weather turned warm and wet – perfect conditions for his flood. A fool's spring. Tsorx's Expedition was mainly composed of young, inexperienced, northerners. They knew the south was warm, and spring came sooner. Many of them discarded their bulky bedrolls and their heavy coats during the stuffy march in Meiness. When Ket's great spell ended, the weather returned to normal. Not just normal, it seemed nature countered Ket's tampering by becoming unseasonably cold. To the Fusp, this end to a fool's spring was so normal, it barely warranted comment.
There were no blizzards. But when temperatures at night fell below freezing, Tsorx's men lost their fight. They deserted in droves to seek shelter against the cold. They stormed farmhouses, unoccupied—or otherwise, and hunkered down. Tsorx was dead. Swept away by the flood or caught by the Fusp before anyone could regroup. The Fusp didn't need to root them all out, they ceased to be soldiers. If they were caught, they surrendered. If they were not, most wandered slowly home.
The High Guard were no so easily bested. Nerual and the larger part of the high guard were in Fuspmar when the flood hit. The supernatural speed with which it rose caused them no small trouble. But a soldier's practice is largely in dealing with things they are unprepared for. Before the flood, Tsrox's expedition comprised just over two thousand men. After it, some fifteen hundred lived, but the largest single group was a band of four hundred – a reserve led by a lieutenant that was slow to arrive for the battle. The High guard numbered some two hundred before the flood. By the first day after the flood, all but twenty men were accounted for.
For the first half-month after the battle of Fuspmar, the High Guard eluded Bharrak's army. They defeated or escaped every patrol which came upon them unprepared. All the while, battlefield shifted northward. Maraesh and Kmolash, the generals of Fuspmar, knew they must take advantage of ever favorable moment. All Bharrak knew Eth's was reaching out to swallow the south.
Eventually the generals cornered the High Guard. Nerual chose a path that skirted Meiness. This made an ambush difficult, but open territory favored the larger force. Maraesh and Nasch led two groups to encircle Nerual, each group's numbers were equal to that Nerual was expected to have.
Nasch and his force, including Krina, Nerith and Ket, hustled through the night to be north of the High Guard. The sun was just rising when they began the last advance. If luck was with them, they would catch the invaders while they were still in camp. Maraesh should hit from the south-east at the same time Nasch attacked from the north. For all their fearsome reputation, the High Guard were just men. They were still denied mounts. Without that mobility, they were no more deadly archers than the Kliet. They would be greatly outnumbered. Probably they had meager supplies to go on.
In the brightening twilight, Nasch explained their advantages to his men. For the last half-month he'd led this bunch. A few years ago, he would have called these two hundred souls an army. Now, they were just a warband. And a good one. “But don't underestimate the High Guard,” Nasch cautioned the troop. “They are fantastic soldiers. Their bloodlust on the field resembles that of orcs, and their tactics are as careful as the dwarves'. Be careful. May the Wizard favor your spirits.”
The all night run was tiring, sweaty and tense. It hadn't really been a run, not like Krina and the others had to do when this enemy was approaching Fuspmar. But it was still a fast march, and now they were the perusers. The night had been full of energy. Now that the enemy seemed to have slipped away, that energy deserted Krina. She tried not to think about how much she wanted to catch up with the, or why. “It's cold,” she said, to no one in particular.
Nasch answered her, “I feel it too. Something's wrong.” Krina didn't answer.
Things began to go wrong from that moment. At the forest's edge, Nasch could see the the High Guard's camp. It was quiet, but more than that, it looked wrong. There were no visible sentries, though the grassy field might hide a man. Nerith, who was too young to lead his own group, advised him “I'm getting a bad feeling from this.”
Nerith was one of the weak-magic children. He had a gift which was manifest in small ways: a certain ability to hear through the ground far better than most. With an effort, he could even send a few words through the dirt, to an ear on the other side. He did not have the innate strength to be a druid or a stormcaller, and anyway his talents were not for air or water. These enhanced senses are generally attributed to a noble heritage, connected to the Wizard or some powerful magician. Nasch didn't know why Nerith suspected a trap, but he knew enough to trust the kid's senses. And his own.
Nasch sent three scouts with Nerith, to sneak to the edge of thecamp. If they were discovered, Nasch would loose his greatest advantage: surprise. Of course, if there was an ambush, better a few than many be caught. This meadow was a wonderful area for an ambush. It was remote enough that no one came here to graze, so the grass was shoulder-high. A gentle morning breeze ripped the stalks.
Nasch turned to Maentash, a boy who served as his aide. “Go find Ket, I need a favor from him.” The boy turned to take off, but stopped.
“In this half-light, with this breeze, Eth's entire army could sneak through that field undetected,” Nasch explained. “Could you...”
Ket knelt in the grass before Nasch finished the request. He pulled up a few stalks of grass to expose the earth, and shook them. It was the dirt he needed. It fell away from the roots in small clods. Ket blew on them as they fell, and whispered “be still.”
All around them, the breeze suddenly failed. The grass went completely still. The four Kliet scouts were still moving, the disturbance of their location now clearly visible. But their's were not the only disturbances in the field. Off to the east, where the field rose in the direction of the sea, the grass still rippled.
“There is peace as far as you can see.”
Ket can be cryptic like that. It's a druid thing. “Not for long there won't be.”
The sun rose slowly. Red. Almost bloody already. Perhaps someone warned it what would transpire today, but Nasch did not share its privilege. The forest edge looked westward, toward the distant* sea. The horizon was a series of sharp hills all the way to the coast, the nearest barely out of bowshot. The forest made a semi-circle around the field where the Guard had camped, like its arms were reaching out to encircle it. The Kliet were slowly spreading out to the edges of those arms. Others wandered into the camp. Some tired to help the trackers, others rifled through tents. Here and there the warband commanders shouted at their groups to stay put. The all-night run had been extremely tense, and now, with no enemy, the tension seemed wasted. *[well, relatively distant. They're probably just thirty miles from the eastern ocean, but the land is rough and lightly inhabited.]
Someone shouted, off to Nasch's right, on the edge of the forest. In the field, Nerith tried to yell something also, but Nasch couldn't understand the words. Then Nerith dropped, straight down, as though the earth swallowed him. One of the other Kliet, an older scout, was running towards Nasch now. He also fell suddenly, but this time Nasch could see – an arrow stuck completely through his jerkin, just below the shoulder blade.
By the time Nerith fell, Nasch was shouting orders. By the time the old scout caught an arrow, most of the Kliet realized they were being ambushed. By that time, it was far too late to do anything about it.
The Kliet are a military tribe. Have been for generations, because a dishonorable patriarch lost their ancestral land. Fuspmar was their chance to build again, with land of their own and a place on the council. They retained, however, the style of their roots. A sword and a long knife, a bow and a leather jacket and good boots. No shield, no helm, no greaves, no breastplate. Those things were for soldiers with a home to defend. The Kliet were scouts and raiders; their strength was in mobility, in stealth, and in well-chosen battles. Today, they were stupid. Today they were caught.
The grass was suddenly alive with movement, mostly on the slopes of the distant hills. In the arms of the forest, the crashes of combat were sharp and clear. A black cloud descended on the exposed Kliet, like locusts on a ripe field. A more heavily armored force could absorb or deflect such a rain. On the Kliet, the arrows found their marks more often than not. Before they had time to react, hundreds of Kliet were killed or injured. The High guard were coming over the hill. They advanced by echelon – two groups ran forward while another kept up a hail of arrows. Then they changed. The lead group stopped and fired several volleys while the other two charged. Nasch had not seen it before, but the tactic made sense. It would be well suited to open fields and a numerous enemy.
The High Guard who had hidden in the grass around the camp and the edges of the forest were few in number. They were skirmishers – intended to prod the defenses of an enemy formation. The Kliet took them on individually, once they were exposed. But the Kliet had no formation. Those who were in the open retreated to the trees. Those in the woods took cover and returned arrow for arrow. Nasch had barely been in command from the time they stopped – each soldier tended to listen only to his immediate superior, if anyone. Now, with the enemy in sight, he tried to regain control. The High Guard were a tight, disciplined formation while the Kliet were spread out along the forest. The Guard now had the advantage of local superiority in numbers and order that the army of Bharrak had enjoyed over the remnant of Tsorx's expedition.
The Guard were created by Eth's grandfather out of the soldiers every king kept on retainer. As the tribe became an empire and the king an emperor, the house guard became the High Guard. They were the best horsemen, the best archers, the best swordsmen from the entire empire. Like all northern armies, they were all men. They were not expected to wear a uniform, but provide whatever armor and weapons they desired. All wore, by tradition, a steel helm which covers the face, the same general type as the dwarf legion wore. Most carried a short composite recurved bow, a lance or spear, a riding shield, and breastplate. After that, halberds and broad, short swords were common. Nerual's company left their horses north of Meiness, and a portion discarded their armor or shields during the flood. On the whole, though, they are a tight spear that jabbed at the Kliet.
At Nasch's command, the Kliet began to fall back, into the forest. They would give ground and let the trees break up the formation before attacking. It would return the intuitive to the Kliet, and let them fight on their own terms.
When the High Guard Echelon neared the forest edge, they suddenly changed direction. Rather than charging at the center, as they had been, all three groups ran into the woods on the north side of the field. Nasch didn't see this right away, because he was still running from commander to commander and giving orders. Krina saw it. The cold feeling was gone now, but she felt as though someone was whispering to her, telling her to lead the Kliet.
The right flank was failing quickly. The Kliet fell over themselves retreating from the High Guard, or were overrun and overpowered where their stood. To Krina, running away from that fight was swimming upstream. She shouted to the men to leave the forest, and charge the other side. Nasch had been running toward the right flank, she ran up the left. The Kliet have a loose leadership structure, but everyone recognized that she was a friend of Nasch's, and that gave her authority enough. Besdies, she told them to ran towards the enemy – not the sort of orders a soldier can normally question, whoever gives them.
The shape of the battle rapidly shifted. On the north side of the field, the Kliet's right flank, the High Guard advanced eastward while the Kliet fell back. The Kliet's entire left flank charged across the field, to trap the High Guard between them and the failing right flank.
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