Takeda BW XXXII
The wind blew wildly, at one time straight from the east, where it bore upon it the distinct smell of ash, and the next from the west, carrying the sweet smell of meadows. Takeda found somewhere to shelter from the alternating blasts and looked north, eyes watering in the chill wind; it seemed to be morning when he saw the mesa in all its glory. The enormous table-like mountain broke out of the mist and thrust into the clear blue sky above. The Temple sat atop the ‘table’ like some great stone and glass condiment.
But that was not what absorbed Takeda’s attention; between him and the mountain stood a host of Drow and Gith, dressed in the garb of war. A giant Gith riding a great Warg was in front of the host. His massive black bastard sword dripped blood as he held it before him; the blood belonged to three dead samurai that lay headless on the plain at the feet of the Warg. The tall, broad Gith sat high in his saddle, his toothy grin revealing sharp, blackened teeth as he spoke to himself, “They have their answer now…”
The southernmost ranks were arrayed facing west to where Takeda could see an army of orientals marching and riding across the rolling downs to meet the foe. Still some leagues away they resembled a large cloud, rapidly passing across the green, summer-enriched grassland slopes. He saw their samurai leader ride his warhorse to the front of his men, holding aloft the Minawara standard. “We fight for Vorsaykarai, as we know what lies beneath,” the warrior called out using the colourful standard, which was tied to a seven foot long metal pole, to indicate the mesa in the distance.
“Then we free the Dradorald, where Queen Mandur is being held, before tearing down the Ratorain Tower.” As he mentioned each objective he became more animated - standing in the saddle and pointing - finally shouting his plans so that all his troops could hear. His raised voice was met with a cheer.
“Lastly, we will face down the evil that has brought this foe before us and smite his ruin upon the Prime!”
The two armies faced one another, spread out across opposing ridge lines. Takeda thought that the orientals would wish to draw the Gith to fight before nightfall not wishing to give the enemy the advantage of the dark. (Better that they provoke the enemy into war.) As Takeda watched, he seemed to be drawn towards the oriental army. The leader, who Takeda now recognised to be his ancestor Tokugawa, outlined his battle plans in more detail.
He explained that the cavalry was to present themselves in Lei Kung’s glory before the Gith, banners waiving and taunts shouted, feinting attack and provoking them to follow into the dead ground which separated the two forces. The first volley of arrows would blunt their attack and give time for the cavalry to break away to the south, down the slope as if fleeing. As the Gith charged – which Tokugawa was certain of – the infantry would pull back westward, ceding ground slowly, giving time for the cavalry to circle back northeast and take up position on the high ground the Gith currently occupied. Here, some would break off and divert attention from the mountain path that led to Vorsaykorai. The Gith would be split and their leadership paralyzed by indecision. The cavalry would strike from the east and the infantry would charge to combat from the west.
The oriental leader moved amongst his men, showing his confidence, exchanging jokes and banter and reminding them that they were chosen by the Gods to be here. The sun climbed over the mesa when the cavalry was assembled. The previous night had been cool and the grass was still wet beneath their feet. Here and there patches of mist remained in the dead ground, flattening the otherwise rolling landscape. What wind there now was came out of the north, flowing down from the mountains, and still had a bite to it. Using flags, gestures and a single horn blast the mounted troops rode off northeast, taking care to ensure they were in plain sight. As they departed, Takeda noticed the archers moving into position behind cleverly constructed defences, so well camouflaged that only their movement distinguished them from the surrounding terrain.
In the sunlight the oriental cavalry crested the ridge and briefly looked down into the valley below before returning their gaze to the Gith arrayed on the next ridge. Their approach had been noticed. The Gith drew up infantry and Drow archers in ranks and marched down the slope towards them. From each of the enemy’s flanks charged medium cavalry and horse archers who looked to close swiftly. Behind the assembled mass of more than 3,000 Gith, more foul creatures hurried southwest to cut off the oriental’s escape. Neither time nor need for taunts and flag waiving it seemed. The mounted archers fired their first volley into the ranks of the Gith infantry, setting many alight and briefly creating pools of fire in the damp grassland. Their shots, however, did not go unanswered and the bushi suffered their first casualties. The lightly armoured horse suffered most and a few of the cavalry had to continue pillion.
The mounted samurai wheeled right and plummeted down the valley, shielding themselves from the arrow fire. Quickly adopting a wedge formation, Tokugawa elected to strike at the southernmost sortie, ordering his men not to tarry but to wheel back to the south; thus, allowing a brief cavalry engagement and more fire to rain down on the Gith infantry. The noise was deafening: wargs howling and barking, samurai shouting encouragement in maddened voices; all mixed with the screams of the dying. Bearing his katana high in his right hand, Tokugawa charged forward rallying his forces. The cold wind burned his cheeks, as he filled his lungs and exhorted, “Do now what yea have promised me! Do now that dreadful deed that would save us from eternal damnation and slavery! Kill them swiftly then ride before them like the wind so our brothers can enjoy the continued demise of the Gith on this terrible day! For Lei Kung!”
As both cavalries clashed, the damage was quite spectacular; the leading echelons were unseated, their steeds dying beneath them, trampling the fallen to death. The samurai had the greater momentum, continuing deep into the enemy ranks; their leader deftly placed the standard in its holder joined to his saddle and slipped his wakizashi from his obi. Raising his katana he screamed, “For the House of Minawara and for Lei Kung!”
The sight of this battle was emblazoned on Takeda’s mind: the splendid array of colours that shimmered in the late morning sunlight - purples, indigoes and violets on one side and silver, gold, white and blue on the other. What he knew now to be the main themes in a deathly montage. The Giths’ steeds, black as coal, were lathered with sweat beading white upon their flesh, their eyes were wide - bloodshot red – and their ears were pinned back. The pale skins of the Gith clashed with their garb making them appear almost luminous. The contrast could not be starker between two opposing forces: the glinting silver of highly polished weapons and the gold and blue of lacquered armour of the samurai army against the deep dark colours of the night worn by the Gith.
Blow after blow struck deep into those unfortunate enough to cross paths with Tokugawa. The bloodied blade of his katana whirled wildly, cutting down many Gith at first contact, throwing great spouts of their dark red blood into the air. The smell of horse sweat, blood and metal filled Takeda’s nostrils and the deafening roar of battle threatened to put pay to all rational thought. Shortly after careering into the enemy’s vanguard, the mighty leader wheeled his horse to the right. Finding a gap, he drove through to the other side, dispatching yet another Gith back to Hel. Looking behind him, he saw his own lead element clash with the enemy, powering on to catch up with their daimyo. Looking over his other shoulder, he saw the enemy’s western phalanx quicken and turn to give chase. The infantry and archers faltered slightly, checking their pace to aim.
“Disengage! Retreat!” came the clarion call of the Captain’s horn. The cavalry disengaged under the accurate covering fire of his mounted archers, which now surrounded their Liege. The enemy’s blood was up! They rushed on, buoyed by the fact that the orientals appeared to be fleeing. Ordering his men to continue south before turning east, Tokugawa decided to keep the interest of the enemy by making U-turns, jabbing swiftly into the flanks of the enemy when individuals were exposed. Each time volleys of arrows smashed into his armour, mostly failing to penetrate. However, one such manoeuvre caused his steed injury; serious enough to prevent a repeated sortie and he quickly returned to the head of his force.
The mounted archers had not been idle, returning fire and picking out the leading forces of enemy cavalry with some spectacular success. A shout went up from the left of the cavalry wedge. Takeda looked across to see hundreds of wargs charging down the broken and rocky slopes. Clearly plane-shifting, the dark shapes were only distinguishable by their rapid movement and size. Despite each bearing a Gith, the wargs were fleet of foot and looked likely to intercept the samurai before they wheeled east to come up behind the advancing enemy. The leader gave swift orders to engage with his mounted archers and diverted some of his more capable cavalry to the left flank in preparation to engage the wargs.
From out of the shadows, and the natural cover provided by the broken terrain and stunted flora, a multitude of bushi warriors struck out against the wargs. With the advantage of surprise and the adoption of solid defensive positions, they enjoyed incredible success. In the first few minutes of battle nearly all the wargs were brought down, cut to ribbons by pole arms and katana. The men then disappeared almost as quickly as they materialized.
The few Gith left giving chase split - driving cavalry east, up into the foot hills in the vain hope of forcing the men from their hiding place. The main body checked its pace; perhaps waiting for more foot soldiers to catch up, perhaps waiting for the cavalry to flush out the men from their hiding places. Tokugawa wheeled his troops around giving time for his archers to send a series of salvos to rain down on the enemy whilst challenging the cavalry to follow him. The Gith seemed undecided – the wargs should not have failed. Where did these men come from? How many are there of them?
Taking advantage of their seeming indecision, the orientals charged once again. This time they attacked the eastern most part of the pursuing cavalry, driving into them with full fury. Archers concentrated their fire on the western flank of the Gith cavalry, keeping them moving, not letting them regroup. Wary, the Gith cavalry broke quickly and turned back to the main body, climbing up hill once more. Outstripping his men to combat, the samurai leader smashed once again into the retreating enemy ranks, breaking two Gith in half in the first brief encounter. His followers arrived shortly after, their horses tiring quickly in the ascent and from the rocky footing. The battle was swift, neither side wishing to tarry in such difficult terrain.
The view was both spectacular and hideous. The lower foothills were littered with the dead: wargs, Gith, men and horses. The sun bathed the land in light that shimmered off the samurai’s weapons and enhanced the emerald green of the rolling grassland stained with bright blood.
Already retreating, the mounted archers flew south to get clear of the falling enemy arrows, giving more time to the Gith to regroup. Now completely disengaged, the oriental cavalry rode southeast to catch up with the mounted archers before wheeling left to the northeast, outflanking the enemy. Takeda’s eyes were pinned on the Gith; half their infantry had broken ranks and were climbing up the slope towards the bushi under cover of rapid and accurate arrow fire. The arrows fell like a curtain of rain slowly moving up the slope, just in front of the foot soldiers.
Wheeling back north, Tokugawa judged the distance and the time of his strike to perfection. His men formed up into a line facing West – the rear of the enemy’s advancing infantry - and, with a scream, spurred their mounts in headlong fury at the Gith. Oblivious to the arrows smashing down all around and on him, the Leader threw a spear into the main body of grouped infantry, creating a ball of lightning which smashed through their ranks. The effect was devastating, blasting a hole in the middle of the nearest rank through which his cavalry plunged. Too close to their own infantry for the Gith and Drow to risk keeping up the barrage, the orientals drove a wedge up the middle of the foot soldiers whose ranks buckled. Shocked and almost decimated the infantry broke and ran, many falling into the mud.
Having been bested, the Gith went into frenzy. Despite their losses, they still outnumbered the orientals significantly – a fact which was not lost on them. Unwilling to fall to withering arrow fire or fall into the mud, the cavalry regrouped waiting for the support of their infantry. The samurai cavalry turned left, heading south once more, and plunged down the broad slope. No longer threatened, they wheeled in a sweeping arc left to head northeast towards the westernmost foothills of Mt Vorsay. Here they were joined by their infantry that had been hidden in the valley and proved so useful during the clash with the wargs.
The sun was past its zenith now; this furious game of cat-and-mouse had lasted the entire morning. The Gith infantry marched forward, in a long deep column, one protecting the other from arrow fire (like a Roman Turtle) with pikes, halberds and gisarmes protruding from the carapace. Despite the awesome power of their daikyos, the first volley of arrows from the oriental archers had little effect. Tokugawa’s plan had moved into phase two. He ordered his men to draw pole arms. Whilst the archers withdrew, west, the infantry charged to combat. The clash was terrifying, the orientals found it difficult to manoeuvre and extracting themselves from battle proved costly. Takeda saw the first of the Gith cavalry to break through and crest the ridge. Isolated, Tokugawa’s followers were exhausted, bloodied and battered, sick from the combat and stress.
Holding aloft the battle standard once again, Tokugawa rallied his beleaguered force, “It was here, thirty years ago, that Yagitamo forced Malor’s evil host from Mountain and raised the Monastery in celebration. Here, allegiances between the free nations were renewed. It was here that the first sweet taste of freedom was offered to Amorsland. Do you not wish to taste that freedom again? Do you not wish to rid this land of our most cursed foe?” Encouraged by the shouts of agreement the Leader continued, “Come then and be prepared to fight the last battle! Let us prepare ourselves for what may be our final journey. Trust in our strength, our righteous desire for honour and our love of Lei Kung.” The standard shone powerfully in the bright sunlight; Takeda felt its force willing him to take up arms and support his ancestor.
The Gith were poised, relishing the sense of impending victory, as they watched the bushi limp away, seeking cover on those cruel slopes. Oblivious to Tokugawa’s speech the Gith charged. Cavalry and foot soldiers alike sprinted down the slope, chasing after the seemingly beleaguered force. More than a thousand foot and several hundred cavalry gave chase on that afternoon, with as many others scattered across the foot hills separated, dying or dead.
The trumpet blasts were deafening and the bright daylight was shaded by the sudden appearance of hundreds of arrows taking to the air. The Drow had been waiting for a chance to make a decisive impact.
Tokugawa shouted to his small force gathered at the start of the well-hewn road up the mountain, “We must disengage and form a defensive wall further up slope!” Swiftly his followers saw the sense in the plan and fought hard to untangle themselves and, once free, gained the high ground. The orientals drove their cavalry across the face of the infantry, forming a barrier between the mountain road and the Gith forces.
Looking down, across broken and bloodied ground to the enemy, Takeda noted the samurai were vastly outnumbered. However, they had split the enemy, created confusion and achieved the objective of securing the foothills. Tokugawa’s eyes turned to his followers gathered around, “You have fought well; you have secured your place in heaven. We will walk together in the clouds of heaven and read poetry together under the stars. On this day, let us remember that we did our part and let us send these, our bitterest of enemies, back to the gates of Hell from whence they came. In the name of Vorsaykoria and for Lei Kung let us rid this place of the Gith once and for all! I will kill their King – Grasgal – and return the sword to the dwarves that once bore it!” With that, he charged toward the mass of enemy ranks set upon their destruction.
Breaking through the enemy he found himself confronted by the Gith Lord.
Unseated by the accurate thrust of a gith’s polearm into his dying mount, Tokugawa rolled forward and struck at the Gith Lord’s legs, hoping to catch him off guard. Moving to the right and managing to take much of the force out of the blow, the Gith Lord stayed upright. His return was swift and unexpected; using the sword as a staff, he drew a black metallic ball from a pouch and threw it at the rolling samurai. The ball expanded and broke into metal bands which threatened to entrap him. Fortunately for the oriental, he managed to pull himself free but was unable to defend himself from the impact of the subsequent sword blow. The vorpal blade struck the Tokugawa just above the elbow of his left arm, as he struggled to remove the entangled wakizashi from the magical iron rings. His arm was neatly severed in two. The speed of Grasgal’s sword arm rivalled Milai’s. The samurai’s scream was cut short as the sword described a wide arc, neatly severing his neck close to his clavicle. As his body flopped amongst the fallen samurai that littered the floor at Grasgal’s feet, all fighting stopped – the orientals paralysed by the loss of their leader.
Through the carnage, a female Drow approached. Tall, slender, elegant - she could be described as willowy if it were not for her large chest. She strode across the battlefield, her heavy indigo cloak flowing, flashing the purple robe beneath. Her long booted legs made a rhythmic appearance from beneath a short black silk skirt. Under her arm was a heavy book, tucked in her belt were ivory scroll cases and around her long lithe neck was a platinum necklace studded with black sapphires. She flicked her hair to one side as she stepped over Tokugawa’s body. Her eyes flashed the deepest blue - she was looking directly at Takeda. She stared…waiting…watching; her face intense, earnest and unnaturally beautiful – pale tender skin offset by ruby red lips and rose-coloured cheeks.
Eventually, she pulled the standard from under Tokugawa’s dead horse. Holding it aloft, she turned to her right to where the samurai had halted, stunned. “Who of you would bear this banner now? Who would uphold the honour of their family in face of this defeat? Is there not one among you fine, brave samurai who would save his kin from becoming ronin?”
The silence was deafening. The Drow walked slowly in front of the orientals who seemed mesmerised by her beauty and by the standard. Finally, a man spoke, “I would not be ronin,” he said softly, his words barely audible despite the stillness. “If I had that standard and a Lord to serve I would keep the honour of my house.”
“Who are you, samurai? Are you of sufficient influence to take these men with you from the battlefield and serve a new Shogun?”
“I am Haru Kyoto noh Minawara noh Kagaya, Daimyo of Jorliksen, and rightful leader of this house,” spoke the samurai from atop a grey light warhorse. His gold armour was drenched in blood, his own mingled with that of his enemy. His black helmet was split and blood trickled from a head wound down his forehead and onto his nose. He trembled involuntarily both with fear and with adrenalin. Others around him looked on, astonished that their leader had been cut down and that his captain was now in parley with the enemy, yet they said nothing.
“And, to preserve the honour and keep the trust of these warriors, you would serve Malor, Haru-san?”
“I would.”