Chapter 14
Burning Sands
Hugo and his men had been hiding on a secluded trail that branched off from the hill path. They had waited and watched as the slavers’ one-hundred men charged downhill.
The hill path that connected the low ground to the manor complex was narrow and in several parts no wider than a cart’s width. Such terrain formed a natural bottleneck and forced the slavers to make an elongated formation like a snake.
Hugo wiped the sweat from his forehead and noticed Jardin’s glance.
“Now?” the alchemist assistant asked.
“Do it,” Hugo said.
Jardin puffed a smoke from his clay smoking pipe and grabbed two glass bottles from a nest of hay inside a metal container. He pulled out the corks, jammed waxed linens into them, and lit one of them using the ember from his pipe. Once it was lit, Jardin glanced at Hugo.
“That section over there and there.” Hugo pointed his hand toward the two narrowest sections on the hill path.
Jardin light the second bottle using the fire from the lit one, loaded the first one into his leather sling, and then whirled it over his head several times before releasing one of the cords. The bottle flew with an astounding accuracy. Jardin didn’t wait. He quickly loaded and let loose the second one.
The glass bottle hit the ground without an explosion, but the liquid turned into mist from the impact and readily caught fire from the linen wick. It burst into a fireball and its flame spread over a small area.
The slavers’ rear formation was stunned as several men got caught in the fire. Before they could react, another bottle landed and caused another fireball. The slavers reeled and scattered away.
“For Arvena!” Hugo led his men to attack. Lansius had instructed him not to attack at the very end of the slaver’s formation, rather in the middle, to sever the rear from the main body.
The fire and surprise attack had scattered the slavers, but they soon reformed into several large groups to defend themselves.
Jardin launched another bottle and successfully prevented two of the largest group from joining. That would be his last assist as melee fighting broke between the two sides.
Knowing the element of surprise wouldn’t last, Hugo had concentrated his best fighters at the front. With spears and polearms, they hacked and slashed the slavers’ rear, who were lesser fighter compared to their vanguard.
Against slavers, with little chance of high-born, the Arvenians ditched the formalities and went for the kill. Today, they were not in the mood to take hostage.
The fighting was brutal. Patches of red and dark gore stained the grassy ground. Meanwhile, fire kept blazing from several patches of dried grass around.
The slavers’ middle and rear combined had more than forty men, but the narrow terrain negated their numerical advantage. The gap in skills and resolve made the slavers to lose men rapidly. It didn’t take long for them to fear the frenzied Arvenians.
Hugo’s small but hardened party whittled down the slavers’ number and secured a footing on the hill path. Then they split in two. One chased the rear section, the other, led by Hugo, continued their fight against the middle section. They lacked men, but the opponent had it worse.
The slavers were in disarray. Not wanting to die for nothing, many pushed and jostled against their allies to avoid fighting. However, those who stood and fight, were no slouch. One tall man answered Hugo’s halberd thrust with the swing of his sword.
A thin metallic sound rang, and the man tried to recover his stance, but Hugo raked and locked the sword using his halberd’s axe. The man tried to yank it out, but Hugo was ready for a follow up. However, unseen by Hugo, his ally to the right blocked a vicious attack from his opponent, lost his footing, and bumped into him.
Their lapse freed the tall man’s sword, and he roared whilst launching a thrust into Hugo’s chest. The sword came too fast and Hugo parried it poorly. The steel’s sharp point stabbed Hugo’s brigandine, dented the thin metal inside before slipping harmlessly into the shoulder.
Staggered, Hugo took a step back and raised his weapon just in time to block a cut aimed at his neck. Unflinching, Hugo grabbed his shaft closer to the tip, and lashed it out against the opponent’s arm. The halberd’s axe bit the opponent’s left elbow and the tall man groaned.
Despite the gambeson that extended to his wrist, he was in so much pain. He went on defense whilst Hugo continued to swing his halberd.
Hugo saw an opening and hooked the halberd upward into the tall man’s face.
“Gahh!” The tall man winced as the halberd’s axe struck his chin and made a deep gash. Pain and shock made the man to lash his sword against Hugo.
Hugo sidestepped and lunged at the man. The impact felt squishy as it plunged into the man’s abdomen. The victim shrieked momentarily before kneeling down powerlessly.
Hugo kicked the man’s shoulder and pulled his halberd out. The man collapsed to the side while gurgling blood. Hugo didn’t celebrate, but breathlessly recovered his stance. The fight to his right immediately demanded his attention. He went and made a quick thrust when his ally parried.
The unexpected attack scored a clean hit. The man dropped his weapon while gasping for breath. He stared at the halberd, which jutted out from his stomach. His breath became erratic as he gazed at Hugo with bloodshot eyes. He ground his teeth and pulled the halberd’s tip out.
Hugo brandished his halberd again, but the wounded man turned pale. He took several steps back and collapsed, never to stand again.
“They’re running!” a wave of emotion erupted from behind. Breaths of relief and some chuckles quickly followed.
Hugo realized he had slain the last opponent. Despite praises from his men, Hugo felt humbled. How the battle had played was exactly as Lansius had predicted.
The fighting on the hill path was practically over. The slavers’ middle section had ceased their struggle and fled to their main body. Uphill, Hugo’s split group, had routed the slaver’s rear, who fled to the manor.
The slavers were just local troublemakers. Even strengthened by a percentage of men-at-arms, they weren’t qualified for war. They’re paid to guard slaves, not fighting a pitched battle.
Hugo spat before drinking his waterskin and then he looked at his allies, whose faces were full of sweat, dirt, and blood. “Don’t celebrate yet. Wash those blood from your hands. There’s still another fight upon us.”
The fighters nodded in solemn anticipation. They had taken the hill path, but the slavers’ main body on the low ground was still intact. And now, even without squinting their eyes, they could see the slavers marched into them.
Led by Bogdan and reinforced by their best fighter, the reformed slavers’ column looked solid and intimidating.
“I believe it’s my time again?” Jardin asked Hugo as he arrived at the front.
Hugo exhaled deeply. “Do as you’re told, but nothing extra. We’re a little tight on the purse.”
Hugo’s jest tickled Jardin’s nerve. He chuckled and replied, “Most certainly.”
***
The sun was searing hot despite the multitudes of clouds. Bogdan’s men slowed their march just before the hill climb as exhaustion piled up. Bogdan let his men to catch a breath before the big push. This was not a race. They needed the stamina to fight.
Made by mostly veterans, their morale was high. Their earlier failure against the four carts barricade didn’t dampen their spirit. In their eyes, they had forced the main perpetrator out and now things would be resolved quickly.
Hugo’s men had arranged themselves in a six men wide and three ranks deep. They were similarly exhausted after the last fight, but they had time to catch their breath and were in a better position.
In terms of numbers, Bogdan commanded more than fifty, of which half were his veterans. Meanwhile, Hugo had less than twenty. However, the Arvenians looked every bit intimidating as they stood their ground and brandished all their spears and polearms.
Led by Bogdan, the slavers resumed their march, but suddenly a small sized object flew in their direction. It cracked like a clay jug when it hit the center of their formation and burst into flame. The attack caught several men’s garbs and made scaredy cat of the younger folks.
“Push forward! Let nothing stops you,” Bogdan commanded. Whatever the cost, he needed the assault to happen.
Another clay object flew to their front and blazed, just like the first one. However, this time, they were ready and only two got caught in the fire. Both fires fizzled after a while and left a plume of white smoke.
Bogdan capitalized on the enemy’s apparent failure. “See those men in front of you? They’re nothing but thieves and robbers. Your wealth, your money, they’re going to take it all from you! Are you going to let that happen?”
Bogdan’s words pumped his men, and they clamored for battle.
“So, what are you waiting for? Make them pay!” Bogdan raised his sword.
Emboldened, the men howled their battle cry. Their distance was less than two-hundred paces away from Hugo’s men.
“Onward!” one of the lieutenant shouted, but a wave of screaming from their ranks alerted everybody. They looked around and saw panicked men trampled left and right to get away from the white smoke. The smoke was clearly unusual. They noticed everywhere the white smoke passed, men immediately suffered.
The men avoided the smoke like a plague and left the formation in shambles. Indeed, it was hazardous. It contained a fine white powdery substance that reacted with moisture and cause burns.
A person engulfed in the white smoke would felt their eyes, nostrils, and throat burning. It blinded them and filled them with immense pain. Even breathing felt like swallowing a burning charcoal. Many scrambled toward the large pond to douse themselves from the pain.
The white smoke had only caught less than a dozen, but it shook the column. Bogdan had shouted on top of his lungs to keep control. However, ten horsemen and a score of Arvenians appeared behind.
The slavers were distraught. A wall of spears in front, the threat of another white smoke, and now, ten horsemen appeared at their back; their situation was desperate.
“This is madness. We can’t win, not like this,” one rambled.
“There’s no hope in this. We should run and met back at the manor!” Another tried to convince their comrades.
Many nodded and fled as the horsemen advanced closer.
Watching his men fled, Bogdan eerily kept his calm. Instead of running, he dismounted and gave the horse to his aide. He was too old to lick boots. Moreover, he had no child of his own and little love for his concubines.
Together with twenty minded-like allies, old Bogdan joined the reformed column and readied themselves against the cavalry onslaught.
***
Anci led his horsemen to form a wedge formation. Instead of galloping, he opted for a trot to better aim the lance. The horses showed some resistance, but eventually they charged directly into the slavers’ last stand.
The column of men and horses clashed. In an instant, many fell by the lances whilst the warhorses tore, trampled, and crushed whoever stood their way. It wasn’t clear how many died, but the remaining slavers’ group frantically disengage and ran.
Anci wheeled his riders and gave chase. He wasn’t going to risk the opponent to regroup.
While Anci went on a chase, Lansius arrived at the scene. Thomas, Calub, and Felis were at his side, together with eleven men whom almost all had wounds. They had given their best just to march and kept standing.
Lansius looked around with deep concern on his face. Many took it as reading the battle, but in reality, the scattered corpses, blood, and gore mortified him. He took a deep breath, but the distinct smell of blood only made him nauseous.
Calub took notice. “You okay?”
“I’ll be okay when this is over,” Lansius replied.
The white smoke had dissipated from the field. As Calub had warned them, the area wasn't ideal. There was a strong wind coming from the hillside, and thus the smoke could only last for a minute or two. Still, it got the job done.
Without the burning sands, their casualties would be higher. An evenly matched battle was the worst in terms of casualties. They were lucky that Felis brought the alchemist, who spared them from that fate.
Calub and Felis, in turn, were grateful for Lansius’ uncanny understanding of his tools and how he could integrate it into his plan.
Thomas stepped forward. “I’m going to lead some men and round up the survivors.”
Lansius nodded. “Try to link up with Hugo.”
“Aye, will do.” Thomas was about to walk away when Lansius grabbed the old man’s arm.
“Be very careful... no ransom is worth our men’s lives,” Lansius said.
Thomas gave a warm, fatherly look. “We’ll avoid danger as much as we can.”
Thomas went with just four men and scoured the battlefield. The other seven quickly lost their composure and dropped to the ground. Their role as reserve luckily wasn’t required.
“Don’t drink if you got deep wounds. Dab some water on your lips to keep it from drying.” Lansius watched the men and got reminded of the few he had left behind in the four carts barricade. Earlier, they had to leave the mortally wounded with just a youngster to care for them.
Lansius looked at the bright sky momentarily. He shook his head to keep away the feeling that he was responsible for the dead.
I did my best. Nobody should blame me.
But the plan wasn’t flawless. Originally, two of the carts should burn to keep the attackers away. However, the small amount of fire bottles had failed to burn the cart. Thus, their severely limited number had borne the brunt of the attack.
Lansius knew that was his mistake. He feared that Jardin and Hugo may fail, thus Calub assigned most of his stock, including both of the burning sands, to Jardin.
If only Calub kept one…
As Lansius had witnessed. Even a single jar of burning sands was powerful. If it was used on the barricade, it would certainly keep their opponent from attacking and saved many.
“Tsk-” Lansius chastised himself. He had downplayed the technical side and incorrectly assumed that the dry wood would catch fire easily. However, the thick wood on carts proved to withstand the small douse of benzene from the fire bottles.
“Good job, Lans.”
The sudden praise took Lansius by surprise. He turned around and saw Felis. Her smile and blue piercing eyes almost made him blush.
“Hey, be proud. This is a significant accomplishment,” she added heartily.
Lansius felt guilty, but the verbal pat on the back felt so good that he let out a stiff smile.
Felis noticed, but refrained from commenting further. She knew Lansius needed time to deal with the situation.
***
The Arvenians finally secured the battlefield. Anci had returned and sent a few riders on patrol. Hugo and Thomas secured several men for interrogation. Meanwhile, the Arvenians loot the dead for gears and trinkets. They collected all they could, but surrendered the more valuable ones to Thomas for safekeeping.
Despite the victory, they had one last hurdle: Sabina Rustica Manor. Fortified by palisade walls and gatehouse, the manor complex would repel a halfhearted attack. Thus, they needed time to rest and prepare.
Lansius sat on a large smooth rock and mended his bruised right hand. Something had smashed the thumb during the fight and caused the nail to cave in. The throbbing pain made him to wrap it tightly. At least he could fix that one. His left palm got some wood splinter that went too deep.
Sigh, if only I got a tweezer.
Hugo was done with the interrogation. He met up with Lansius and gathered the rest. “Bogdan, the caretaker of the place, is amongst the dead.”
A wave of relief was on everyone’s face. They felt victory was within grasp. Thus, everyone involved agreed to stick with the plan. Despite the risk, the fear that the slavers might retaliate to their loved ones drove them to attack.
Lansius also knew that Anci and Hugo would storm the manor regardless of his decision, for the two were looking for a far more important prize, the future Lord of Arvena. This made Lansius weary. Attacking wasn’t only the things in his mind. “Thomas, get the wounded somewhere cool and safe. Start some fire and boil the water. Treat their wounds if you could.”
Thomas nodded. He cared for the men and was happy to oblige.
Next, Lansius looked at Calub. “Can I ask you to go with Thomas?”
“I need to warn you that my knowledge of medicine is limited,” Calub said.
“We have no one else. I’m only asking for a bit of cheap wine to clean the wound, clean linen to wrap it, and some honey to treat.”
Lansius’ explanation caught Felis and Hugo’s attention. They were familiar with the treatment, but Lansius’ confidence was rather peculiar.
Calub smirked and asked, “So you’re also well read in medicine?”
“Just a bit... Oh, promise me, no bloodletting. Even if they got fever, don’t draw blood,” Lansius warned sternly.
The alchemist’s grin grew wider. “I’m not a barber-surgeon. Anything else?”
Lansius offered his hand. “Just wishing you a good luck.”
The two clasped hands. “You too, stay safe.” Afterward, Calub departed with Thomas.
Anci, who had stood there patiently, finally stepped forward. “Are we done with the preparation?”
“Pretty much,” Lansius answered.
“So, what’s next?” Hugo asked in anticipation.
Lansius looked him in the eyes. “The men are well rested, yes?”
Hugo looked at Anci and Anci looked at Felis, who replied, “The men are ready.”
Lansius looked down momentarily. Nothing was amiss, he thought and involuntarily nodded. “Let’s move to the summit and claim the prize.”
Anci chuckled and gestured his riders to saddle up. Meanwhile, Hugo turned to his men and shouted, “Gentlemen, time to free your sons and daughters. Let’s move out.”
Only twenty-three Arvenians were left in shape to fight, but they responded with a fierce battle cry.
Chapter 14
Burning Sands
Hugo and his men had been hiding on a secluded trail that branched off from the hill path. They had waited and watched as the slavers’ one-hundred men charged downhill.
The hill path that connected the low ground to the manor complex was narrow and in several parts no wider than a cart’s width. Such terrain formed a natural bottleneck and forced the slavers to make an elongated formation like a snake.
Hugo wiped the sweat from his forehead and noticed Jardin’s glance.
“Now?” the alchemist assistant asked.
“Do it,” Hugo said.
Jardin puffed a smoke from his clay smoking pipe and grabbed two glass bottles from a nest of hay inside a metal container. He pulled out the corks, jammed waxed linens into them, and lit one of them using the ember from his pipe. Once it was lit, Jardin glanced at Hugo.
“That section over there and there.” Hugo pointed his hand toward the two narrowest sections on the hill path.
Jardin light the second bottle using the fire from the lit one, loaded the first one into his leather sling, and then whirled it over his head several times before releasing one of the cords. The bottle flew with an astounding accuracy. Jardin didn’t wait. He quickly loaded and let loose the second one.
The glass bottle hit the ground without an explosion, but the liquid turned into mist from the impact and readily caught fire from the linen wick. It burst into a fireball and its flame spread over a small area.
The slavers’ rear formation was stunned as several men got caught in the fire. Before they could react, another bottle landed and caused another fireball. The slavers reeled and scattered away.
“For Arvena!” Hugo led his men to attack. Lansius had instructed him not to attack at the very end of the slaver’s formation, rather in the middle, to sever the rear from the main body.
The fire and surprise attack had scattered the slavers, but they soon reformed into several large groups to defend themselves.
Jardin launched another bottle and successfully prevented two of the largest group from joining. That would be his last assist as melee fighting broke between the two sides.
Knowing the element of surprise wouldn’t last, Hugo had concentrated his best fighters at the front. With spears and polearms, they hacked and slashed the slavers’ rear, who were lesser fighter compared to their vanguard.
Against slavers, with little chance of high-born, the Arvenians ditched the formalities and went for the kill. Today, they were not in the mood to take hostage.
The fighting was brutal. Patches of red and dark gore stained the grassy ground. Meanwhile, fire kept blazing from several patches of dried grass around.
The slavers’ middle and rear combined had more than forty men, but the narrow terrain negated their numerical advantage. The gap in skills and resolve made the slavers to lose men rapidly. It didn’t take long for them to fear the frenzied Arvenians.
Hugo’s small but hardened party whittled down the slavers’ number and secured a footing on the hill path. Then they split in two. One chased the rear section, the other, led by Hugo, continued their fight against the middle section. They lacked men, but the opponent had it worse.
The slavers were in disarray. Not wanting to die for nothing, many pushed and jostled against their allies to avoid fighting. However, those who stood and fight, were no slouch. One tall man answered Hugo’s halberd thrust with the swing of his sword.
A thin metallic sound rang, and the man tried to recover his stance, but Hugo raked and locked the sword using his halberd’s axe. The man tried to yank it out, but Hugo was ready for a follow up. However, unseen by Hugo, his ally to the right blocked a vicious attack from his opponent, lost his footing, and bumped into him.
Their lapse freed the tall man’s sword, and he roared whilst launching a thrust into Hugo’s chest. The sword came too fast and Hugo parried it poorly. The steel’s sharp point stabbed Hugo’s brigandine, dented the thin metal inside before slipping harmlessly into the shoulder.
Staggered, Hugo took a step back and raised his weapon just in time to block a cut aimed at his neck. Unflinching, Hugo grabbed his shaft closer to the tip, and lashed it out against the opponent’s arm. The halberd’s axe bit the opponent’s left elbow and the tall man groaned.
Despite the gambeson that extended to his wrist, he was in so much pain. He went on defense whilst Hugo continued to swing his halberd.
Hugo saw an opening and hooked the halberd upward into the tall man’s face.
“Gahh!” The tall man winced as the halberd’s axe struck his chin and made a deep gash. Pain and shock made the man to lash his sword against Hugo.
Hugo sidestepped and lunged at the man. The impact felt squishy as it plunged into the man’s abdomen. The victim shrieked momentarily before kneeling down powerlessly.
Hugo kicked the man’s shoulder and pulled his halberd out. The man collapsed to the side while gurgling blood. Hugo didn’t celebrate, but breathlessly recovered his stance. The fight to his right immediately demanded his attention. He went and made a quick thrust when his ally parried.
The unexpected attack scored a clean hit. The man dropped his weapon while gasping for breath. He stared at the halberd, which jutted out from his stomach. His breath became erratic as he gazed at Hugo with bloodshot eyes. He ground his teeth and pulled the halberd’s tip out.
Hugo brandished his halberd again, but the wounded man turned pale. He took several steps back and collapsed, never to stand again.
“They’re running!” a wave of emotion erupted from behind. Breaths of relief and some chuckles quickly followed.
Hugo realized he had slain the last opponent. Despite praises from his men, Hugo felt humbled. How the battle had played was exactly as Lansius had predicted.
The fighting on the hill path was practically over. The slavers’ middle section had ceased their struggle and fled to their main body. Uphill, Hugo’s split group, had routed the slaver’s rear, who fled to the manor.
The slavers were just local troublemakers. Even strengthened by a percentage of men-at-arms, they weren’t qualified for war. They’re paid to guard slaves, not fighting a pitched battle.
Hugo spat before drinking his waterskin and then he looked at his allies, whose faces were full of sweat, dirt, and blood. “Don’t celebrate yet. Wash those blood from your hands. There’s still another fight upon us.”
The fighters nodded in solemn anticipation. They had taken the hill path, but the slavers’ main body on the low ground was still intact. And now, even without squinting their eyes, they could see the slavers marched into them.
Led by Bogdan and reinforced by their best fighter, the reformed slavers’ column looked solid and intimidating.
“I believe it’s my time again?” Jardin asked Hugo as he arrived at the front.
Hugo exhaled deeply. “Do as you’re told, but nothing extra. We’re a little tight on the purse.”
Hugo’s jest tickled Jardin’s nerve. He chuckled and replied, “Most certainly.”
***
The sun was searing hot despite the multitudes of clouds. Bogdan’s men slowed their march just before the hill climb as exhaustion piled up. Bogdan let his men to catch a breath before the big push. This was not a race. They needed the stamina to fight.
Made by mostly veterans, their morale was high. Their earlier failure against the four carts barricade didn’t dampen their spirit. In their eyes, they had forced the main perpetrator out and now things would be resolved quickly.
Hugo’s men had arranged themselves in a six men wide and three ranks deep. They were similarly exhausted after the last fight, but they had time to catch their breath and were in a better position.
In terms of numbers, Bogdan commanded more than fifty, of which half were his veterans. Meanwhile, Hugo had less than twenty. However, the Arvenians looked every bit intimidating as they stood their ground and brandished all their spears and polearms.
Led by Bogdan, the slavers resumed their march, but suddenly a small sized object flew in their direction. It cracked like a clay jug when it hit the center of their formation and burst into flame. The attack caught several men’s garbs and made scaredy cat of the younger folks.
“Push forward! Let nothing stops you,” Bogdan commanded. Whatever the cost, he needed the assault to happen.
Another clay object flew to their front and blazed, just like the first one. However, this time, they were ready and only two got caught in the fire. Both fires fizzled after a while and left a plume of white smoke.
Bogdan capitalized on the enemy’s apparent failure. “See those men in front of you? They’re nothing but thieves and robbers. Your wealth, your money, they’re going to take it all from you! Are you going to let that happen?”
Bogdan’s words pumped his men, and they clamored for battle.
“So, what are you waiting for? Make them pay!” Bogdan raised his sword.
Emboldened, the men howled their battle cry. Their distance was less than two-hundred paces away from Hugo’s men.
“Onward!” one of the lieutenant shouted, but a wave of screaming from their ranks alerted everybody. They looked around and saw panicked men trampled left and right to get away from the white smoke. The smoke was clearly unusual. They noticed everywhere the white smoke passed, men immediately suffered.
The men avoided the smoke like a plague and left the formation in shambles. Indeed, it was hazardous. It contained a fine white powdery substance that reacted with moisture and cause burns.
A person engulfed in the white smoke would felt their eyes, nostrils, and throat burning. It blinded them and filled them with immense pain. Even breathing felt like swallowing a burning charcoal. Many scrambled toward the large pond to douse themselves from the pain.
The white smoke had only caught less than a dozen, but it shook the column. Bogdan had shouted on top of his lungs to keep control. However, ten horsemen and a score of Arvenians appeared behind.
The slavers were distraught. A wall of spears in front, the threat of another white smoke, and now, ten horsemen appeared at their back; their situation was desperate.
“This is madness. We can’t win, not like this,” one rambled.
“There’s no hope in this. We should run and met back at the manor!” Another tried to convince their comrades.
Many nodded and fled as the horsemen advanced closer.
Watching his men fled, Bogdan eerily kept his calm. Instead of running, he dismounted and gave the horse to his aide. He was too old to lick boots. Moreover, he had no child of his own and little love for his concubines.
Together with twenty minded-like allies, old Bogdan joined the reformed column and readied themselves against the cavalry onslaught.
***
Anci led his horsemen to form a wedge formation. Instead of galloping, he opted for a trot to better aim the lance. The horses showed some resistance, but eventually they charged directly into the slavers’ last stand.
The column of men and horses clashed. In an instant, many fell by the lances whilst the warhorses tore, trampled, and crushed whoever stood their way. It wasn’t clear how many died, but the remaining slavers’ group frantically disengage and ran.
Anci wheeled his riders and gave chase. He wasn’t going to risk the opponent to regroup.
While Anci went on a chase, Lansius arrived at the scene. Thomas, Calub, and Felis were at his side, together with eleven men whom almost all had wounds. They had given their best just to march and kept standing.
Lansius looked around with deep concern on his face. Many took it as reading the battle, but in reality, the scattered corpses, blood, and gore mortified him. He took a deep breath, but the distinct smell of blood only made him nauseous.
Calub took notice. “You okay?”
“I’ll be okay when this is over,” Lansius replied.
The white smoke had dissipated from the field. As Calub had warned them, the area wasn't ideal. There was a strong wind coming from the hillside, and thus the smoke could only last for a minute or two. Still, it got the job done.
Without the burning sands, their casualties would be higher. An evenly matched battle was the worst in terms of casualties. They were lucky that Felis brought the alchemist, who spared them from that fate.
Calub and Felis, in turn, were grateful for Lansius’ uncanny understanding of his tools and how he could integrate it into his plan.
Thomas stepped forward. “I’m going to lead some men and round up the survivors.”
Lansius nodded. “Try to link up with Hugo.”
“Aye, will do.” Thomas was about to walk away when Lansius grabbed the old man’s arm.
“Be very careful... no ransom is worth our men’s lives,” Lansius said.
Thomas gave a warm, fatherly look. “We’ll avoid danger as much as we can.”
Thomas went with just four men and scoured the battlefield. The other seven quickly lost their composure and dropped to the ground. Their role as reserve luckily wasn’t required.
“Don’t drink if you got deep wounds. Dab some water on your lips to keep it from drying.” Lansius watched the men and got reminded of the few he had left behind in the four carts barricade. Earlier, they had to leave the mortally wounded with just a youngster to care for them.
Lansius looked at the bright sky momentarily. He shook his head to keep away the feeling that he was responsible for the dead.
I did my best. Nobody should blame me.
But the plan wasn’t flawless. Originally, two of the carts should burn to keep the attackers away. However, the small amount of fire bottles had failed to burn the cart. Thus, their severely limited number had borne the brunt of the attack.
Lansius knew that was his mistake. He feared that Jardin and Hugo may fail, thus Calub assigned most of his stock, including both of the burning sands, to Jardin.
If only Calub kept one…
As Lansius had witnessed. Even a single jar of burning sands was powerful. If it was used on the barricade, it would certainly keep their opponent from attacking and saved many.
“Tsk-” Lansius chastised himself. He had downplayed the technical side and incorrectly assumed that the dry wood would catch fire easily. However, the thick wood on carts proved to withstand the small douse of benzene from the fire bottles.
“Good job, Lans.”
The sudden praise took Lansius by surprise. He turned around and saw Felis. Her smile and blue piercing eyes almost made him blush.
“Hey, be proud. This is a significant accomplishment,” she added heartily.
Lansius felt guilty, but the verbal pat on the back felt so good that he let out a stiff smile.
Felis noticed, but refrained from commenting further. She knew Lansius needed time to deal with the situation.
***
The Arvenians finally secured the battlefield. Anci had returned and sent a few riders on patrol. Hugo and Thomas secured several men for interrogation. Meanwhile, the Arvenians loot the dead for gears and trinkets. They collected all they could, but surrendered the more valuable ones to Thomas for safekeeping.
Despite the victory, they had one last hurdle: Sabina Rustica Manor. Fortified by palisade walls and gatehouse, the manor complex would repel a halfhearted attack. Thus, they needed time to rest and prepare.
Lansius sat on a large smooth rock and mended his bruised right hand. Something had smashed the thumb during the fight and caused the nail to cave in. The throbbing pain made him to wrap it tightly. At least he could fix that one. His left palm got some wood splinter that went too deep.
Sigh, if only I got a tweezer.
Hugo was done with the interrogation. He met up with Lansius and gathered the rest. “Bogdan, the caretaker of the place, is amongst the dead.”
A wave of relief was on everyone’s face. They felt victory was within grasp. Thus, everyone involved agreed to stick with the plan. Despite the risk, the fear that the slavers might retaliate to their loved ones drove them to attack.
Lansius also knew that Anci and Hugo would storm the manor regardless of his decision, for the two were looking for a far more important prize, the future Lord of Arvena. This made Lansius weary. Attacking wasn’t only the things in his mind. “Thomas, get the wounded somewhere cool and safe. Start some fire and boil the water. Treat their wounds if you could.”
Thomas nodded. He cared for the men and was happy to oblige.
Next, Lansius looked at Calub. “Can I ask you to go with Thomas?”
“I need to warn you that my knowledge of medicine is limited,” Calub said.
“We have no one else. I’m only asking for a bit of cheap wine to clean the wound, clean linen to wrap it, and some honey to treat.”
Lansius’ explanation caught Felis and Hugo’s attention. They were familiar with the treatment, but Lansius’ confidence was rather peculiar.
Calub smirked and asked, “So you’re also well read in medicine?”
“Just a bit... Oh, promise me, no bloodletting. Even if they got fever, don’t draw blood,” Lansius warned sternly.
The alchemist’s grin grew wider. “I’m not a barber-surgeon. Anything else?”
Lansius offered his hand. “Just wishing you a good luck.”
The two clasped hands. “You too, stay safe.” Afterward, Calub departed with Thomas.
Anci, who had stood there patiently, finally stepped forward. “Are we done with the preparation?”
“Pretty much,” Lansius answered.
“So, what’s next?” Hugo asked in anticipation.
Lansius looked him in the eyes. “The men are well rested, yes?”
Hugo looked at Anci and Anci looked at Felis, who replied, “The men are ready.”
Lansius looked down momentarily. Nothing was amiss, he thought and involuntarily nodded. “Let’s move to the summit and claim the prize.”
Anci chuckled and gestured his riders to saddle up. Meanwhile, Hugo turned to his men and shouted, “Gentlemen, time to free your sons and daughters. Let’s move out.”
Only twenty-three Arvenians were left in shape to fight, but they responded with a fierce battle cry.
