A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor-Chapter 1000 - General Khan’s Head - Part 6

1000: General Khan’s Head – Part 6

1000: General Khan’s Head – Part 6

For the same reason, Oliver was made to pause.

Lombard?

Of all people?

Was that intentional?

It couldn’t not be.

But Karstly didn’t strike him as the sort of man to give orders for sentimental reasons…

The thudding of feet from their rear spurred Oliver towards a decision.

Lombard was growing nearer, but he would barely arrive in time for the enemy to already be at their backs.

In other words, if they wanted to move, they had to do so now, lest they be under the constant assault of arrow fire.

“We’re breaking out of this box,” Oliver said with iron certainty.

If it was Lombard, then he could trust him to follow.

If it was Lombard, there ought not be an issue with them making it back towards the open span that lay to their right.

It was only three ranks of shield-wielding men that they had to breach – though such a feat needed to be done under the constant pressure of arrow fire.

“Kaya!

Karesh!

Jorah!

Join Firyr in the front.

Everyone who packs a punch, we need in the vanguard.

Your posts of command can wait until we get out of here.

Right now, we need to concentrate all our might in one place,” Oliver said.

“Will I be joining, my Lord?” Verdant asked.

“Obviously,” Oliver replied.

“You hit harder than anyone else.

Blackthorn, we’ve need of you as well.

Yorick, have your men gather a corpse each – they’re to shield us as best they can whilst we’re under fire.

You Blackthorn lot, you’re with the rest of us, at the front.

I trust that those spears of yours can find a gap to worm through.”

Under the pressure, Oliver made a rare decision to put men that were not his own in the vanguard.

He knew that his usual forces could pack a punch.

He didn’t doubt that they could probably slam straight through the first line of shield wielders, but in that moment, they required a certain degree of precision to match that strength.

“The rest of you veterans, recover your breath, and grab yourself a corpse.

Stay tight behind the vanguard.

As soon as we begin to slow, the order will be given, and it’s your weight that will push us through,” Oliver said.

It was hard to tell whether the Blackthorn men were pleased with their positioning.

They accepted the role with the same grim looks that they always wore.

But, at the very least, they didn’t show any signs of protesting.

The Patrick forces, by contrast, were all but chomping at the bit, despite their evident fatigue.

They felt Oliver’s wanting, and they responded to it.

The men were forced to bite down on their exhaustion and throw themselves forward once more.

It was the least of what was expected of a soldier.

To keep going even when their bodies were beyond drained.

They’d learned to find the limits beyond the limits.

Their natural instincts kicked in, as they saw the hope of surviving, and their bodies did what they could to provide them with the energy necessary for the endeavour.

General Khn had boxed them in expertly.

If they’d thrown themselves forward sheerly on the Patrick might alone, it would have been doubtful if the breakthrough would have worked.

More still, even if that had broken through, it was doubtful whether the casualties that they would have paid would have been worthwhile.

It seemed likely to be the case that any victory in that sense would be pyrrhic.

But now they could hear hooves thundering closer, as well as the boots of a good few hundred men.

Allied boots, for the first time in their battle.

Reinforcements.

It was hard not to feel a certain degree of elation at that.

It was a magic spell that worked all the more for the older Patrick men.

They were unaccustomed to ever receiving such reinforcements.

Their missions always began and ended with them.

There was never an angel force that flew in to save them.

They’d always have to save themselves.

For the Yorick men, their sighs of relief were tainted by a degree of expectancy.

They were tied.

To them, soldiery was a duty.

It was a bounded set of expectations.

As long as they fulfilled what was expected of them, then that was enough.

There was no need to go beyond that.

They were one amongst many.

A single beam in a carefully built structure.

It was a sensible enough way of thinking, but it was so different to the way that the Patrick forces had built themselves up.

Each man amongst the Patricks was his own man, with his own way of doing things.

He was constrained by command structures, and the orders of his mission, but within those constraints, he was allowed to operate freely, and he was given aims that he could accomplish, by whatever means he wished.

It was not a simple duty.

It was opportunity.

The men could fly far beyond what was initially expected of them, and often, they did just that.

Oliver crashed with Walter straight into the first line of the shields.

He leaned down from the saddle to give his best swing of the sword, timing it with his mount’s momentum.

His eyes glowed a faint purple, as he felt the tinglings of Claudia’s power returning.

It was rare that he had the energy to use it more than once a day, but with the magnitude of the battle that they were facing, the second burst seemed to come just as freely as the first.

His curved sword collided with the edge of the shield.

It wasn’t the sort of accurate strike that Oliver would have wanted, especially not against opponents that were so well armoured, and so heavy by contrast.

But with Claudia’s power lending to his limbs, even that did not matter.

Claudia’s power demanded the presence of a hero, and a hero was not bound by the same laws as normal men.

The sword strike swept the man back, heavy shield and all.

He was sent slamming into the men behind him, clattering at a speed that should have been unimaginable for a unit so well armoured.

To his side, Oliver saw Verdant achieve much the same.

His reasonably lengthy spear made it past the shield with greater ease than Oliver’s sword, and his natural strength was more than enough to dislodge the defender from his position.