Bellona's hammer spun wildly as the very hands which grasped it were separated from their owner, the
weapon kicking up a sizeable splash of its own when it fell to the water. Bellona snarled, handless arms instantly up in an instinctual and ingrained defensive posture even as she fell back; Garron's infantry made way for her retreat, parting like a wave and sealing up again.
Then Alistair said to Kristen the words which made undeniable her fears.
Kris...call the retreat. A ragged breath escaped her throat, echoed in the tinny confines of her helm, but she knew it had to be done. Neither Logan nor Gabriel had the backing Walter had, and thus would any attempt made by them to challenge Garron be cast down by House Banick as a majority, especially in the wake of this defeat. To spare as many lives as could be from the hazards of this battle, its cause now lost, yes, the retreat needed to be called.
Even before Kristen could hurry toward the standard bearer of the light infantry, he who had the horn, word had spread like wildfire even among the furthest reaches of Walter's heavy infantry. Morale instantly began to waiver despite their advantageous position, for they knew as much as Kristen, more so even, of Walter's importance. Above being merely their commander, he was the man in whom they had placed the hopes of their, and House Banick's, fortunes. Thoughts turned from victory on the field to their families, their futures. Safety now lay only in the fortifications of Walter's camp some two miles away and in the hope of clemency from Garron Banick, he who was now destined to rule House Banick.
Kristen reached the light infantry standard bearer.
"Sound the horn! Twice and long!" This to signal the retreat.
Yet even before the standard bearer could bring his horn to his lips,
another horn sounded first, this on Garron's side of the basin. And for every man and woman to behold, Garron's secret reinforcements had arrived to seal the outcome of the battle.
* * * * *
Garron turned leisurely in his saddle, glancing back and up the gentle slope of the basin's hill. "Ah, there he is." Then he glanced over to Commander Vogel and commented with a sardonic humor, "Money, my dear Commander, is and always shall be a peerless motivator."
Commander Vogel glanced back as well, and all of his anxieties were instantly alleviated. Captain Kaijo, along with the whole host of the Sons of
Cortos—indeed, the very mercenary company which had put Alyr'Morath to the torch during Walter's own Canal campaign—were now gathered in all their might atop the hill far to Vogel's and Garron's rear. The company were all mounted, and though they were less than a hundred in number, among them were many capable warriors, archers, and even mages. A surprise force meant to turn the tide even if Cadoc had never found the right opening for his masterstroke assassination.
Commander Vogel's face lit up as though he were a child again and the
Dawnbringer,
Velaeri herself, had brought him a gift for the winter solstice.
"Commander Vogel," Garron said. "Win my battle for me."
"Yes, at once, my lord," he replied with splendid glee.
* * * * *
Where Walter's death had caused a deadly crack in his men's morale, the newly arrived threat of the Sons of Cortos, riding down the basin's slope toward them, shattered it. Order began to everywhere break down, and the full rout of Walter's forces had begun. Here could be witnessed several sights, all occurring at once:
Saydor Vinn, devastated by the news (and sight, when he looked) of Walter's death, was in his vulnerable stupor fiercely struck by a spell from his brother Halcor, this magic leveraging very water they were dueling in. Saydor fell, defeated and unconscious, yet his brother, rather than killing him, cried out, "Excellent! We'll do this again, brother! Just like old times!" And then Halcor picked him up, tossed him over his shoulder, and picked out a couple of Walter's own heavy infantrymen. "You there! Carry him!" And indeed, he tossed his brother Saydor to these infantrymen, they in their fear were cowed into obedience, and Halcor actually began to
escort them, seeing to their safety even from Garron's own men if they dared come too close to the conscripted infantrymen and Saydor whom these two carried. Halcor was intent on realizing his brother's safe return to Walter's camp, and this act of peculiar brotherly love made for one of the odd and rare sights of warfare amidst the chaos of the rout.
This was not the only sight of brotherly love to be found in the stampede of the disorderly retreat.
Logan Banick, driven into a fury of grief and rage, had to be held back by several of the light infantrymen, pleading with him to run while he still had the chance, lest he meet a certain death at the Dreadlord Cadoc's hands. And Cadoc himself regarded Alistair's approach with a confidence ease, spreading his arms wide as if putting on display the great work he had done, the corpse of
Walter Banick splayed out in the stream's water before him. Ghostly swirls of magic ringed around his arms, his body, his legs, this in preparation to receive Alistair's attack.
Kristen was nearly bowled over—once, twice—in her bid to trudge across the stream and to reach Alistair's side. She had to reach him! She had to! Gods, if he got embroiled in a battle with Cadoc, he would be left behind in the flight of Walter's forces, left completely surrounded and outnumbered by Garron's men and the Sons of Cortos. Even now Walter's fleeing men were quickly snatching what horses (those left by the dismount of Walter's cavalry) were available on their side of the stream, for those who did not would be left to run all that dreadful distance back to the safety of the camp, this while being ran down by Garron's cavalry and mounted mercenaries; the stream would buy
some time from the pursuit of the cavalry, but not much.
"Alistair!" Kristen was slammed into again, and this time she lost her footing in the uneven stream bed and fell to her hands and knees in the water. But she with the fury of urgency threw herself back up onto her feet again.
"Alistair! We must go! Alis—!"
Alistair Krixus
