Chapter 13 - 2-3
Did you lose your nerve, Astai wondered.
In a first battle, it is common to fly into a rage. Many boy soldiers become light-headed from tension. However, Geraha's profile was different. It was a dull kind of composure.
Eight hundred Ishma cavalry were approaching with a thunderous roar.
"Fire," Astai ordered. The bowstrings sang in unison. Swarms of arrows filled the sky. They poured down upon the enemy like a torrential rain. There was no interval in the rain of arrows. Two riders, then three, sank into the morning mist.
The enemy's advance stopped.
It was nearly abnormal. They were right before them. Countless arrowheads glittered, coming straight toward them.
"Do not flinch!"
Astai himself, as he shouted, was bewildered.
The enemy were close enough to distinguish their features. This was the first time he had experienced an exchange of arrows at such close range. With just a quick glance, he saw the allies' front line falling from their horses one after another. Fortunately, they had not lost their footing. The organization, which placed battle-hardened veterans as ten-man leaders and hundred-man leaders, paid off. The dead and wounded were sent to the rear along with their horses, and the exchange with the rear was being carried out solemnly. Without regard for friend or foe, fresh blood splattered like the crests of waves.
Occasionally, there was a thumping sound.
It was the sound of Geraha knocking down arrows with his round shield. From the perspective of the Ishma soldiers, there was likely no better target than Geraha's protruding, giant frame. The enemy's fierce barrage howled, flying horizontally. Geraha was knocking them down, thump, thump.
Astai looked up at Geraha. He was looking forward with half-closed eyes. Geraha was listening intently.
"Astai-nii, let's strike the left."
Astai answered instinctively. "It's too early."
"Look from my line of sight."
A shadow suddenly covered Astai's surroundings. Geraha's upper body extended. Monster-like fingers gripped his torso, and Astai's body floated. He had been lifted up.
Though he was surprised, as arrows grazed his ear, he strained his eyes desperately. Indeed, he could overlook the enemy's formation. To the left, as Geraha said, the enemy's right wing was congested. If they attacked now, the enemy's left wing would respond first, and the right wing would become entangled. The formation would collapse diagonally.
"I understand!" Astai answered.
He was lowered back into the saddle with great care.
Astai's spirits rose. He raised his voice toward the rear.
"Follow Geraha, do not fall behind! Our general is brave!"
Geraha's horse scraped the roots of the grass with its hooves, and soil flew. Geraha's unit moved all at once. A monster's roar thundered. It was not anyone's voice, but the voice of all the allies.
The enemy collapsed as expected. What overturned the expectation was Geraha's command.
"Stop!"
Is this the voice of that Geraha Wolf?
It was not a child's voice. A certain kind of beautifully resonating chest voice overwhelmed the battlefield.
"Fire!"
The enemy were stretched out long vertically. The flanks of the horses were completely exposed. Horses are difficult to hit from the front, but they become great targets when approached from the side.
The allies' arrows hit with amusing frequency.
Twang, ping—the bows sang like somber kotos. The accompaniment was the death rattles of the enemy. The Ishma soldiers fell like wooden statues. The enemy camp was splitting into two, front and back.
"Continue!"
Suddenly, Geraha spurred his horse forward.
Thinking this is bad, Astai followed. According to standard tactics, they should withdraw here. After all, the enemy's troop strength was double their own. If they charged, they would be surrounded. There was no chance of victory other than waiting for reinforcements while retreating.
Geraha's unit quickly closed in on the Ishma side, and they entered a melee of clashing blades. The enemy pressed in from the left and right.
"Don't dawdle! Follow me!"
Geraha was still shouting. Looking closely, Geraha had not drawn his sword. He was knocking the enemy away by striking them with his shield. It was incredible brute strength.
Astai noticed Geraha's plan.
"Follow the general! Do not lose sight of him!"
Losing sight of him was the least of their worries. The size of Geraha's body transcended the crowd of people grappling and killing each other.
"Ignore the enemy, follow Geraha!" Astai guided the allies, his voice growing hoarse. "Break through! Obey Geraha! Do not break the density! The enemy is thin, scatter them! Scatter them!"
Geraha's unit moved as if fleeing, turning their backs to the Ishma soldiers. In the direction they aimed, there was a gentle highland that could hardly be called a hill. It was a slight difference in height, but on a battlefield, the one who controlled the higher ground towered like a giant.
Geraha's unit took control of it. They gathered the allies at the top.
"Astai-nii, is it bad to dismount?"
Geraha said. Astai thought it was a difficult point. Dismounting from a horse on the battlefield normally signified surrender.
However, if they showed their will to fight, it would be different. There was nothing cowardly about it.
"I understand. Let's dismount and raise our voices. Let them know we still intend to fight."
Astai ordered those behind him to dismount and dismounted himself. Furthermore, he had them raise a battle cry.
The hill was immediately surrounded.
Enemy soldiers climbed up eagerly. To them, Kosa people who had dismounted on the battlefield likely looked as defenseless as if they were naked.
"Shoot, shoot, knock them down."
Astai ordered. It was unnecessary to order; the hundred-man leaders had the front line of the horizontal ranks align their shields and the archers line up in the rear ranks.
If arrows were fired, cavalry would easily tumble down. Even so, the enemy climbed up like ants.
Many enemy cavalry managed to climb the hill while avoiding the arrows. However, the momentum of the horses was sapped by the incline. They were now easy prey for Geraha's soldiers, who had become infantry. Two or three would surround them and drag the rider down.
Such a flow of battle was established.
Whether to call it the mystery of crowd psychology, the enemy would not stop the same attack. The slope was soon filled with wounded soldiers and corpses.
Still, they tried to climb up.
—This is not the way Kosa people fight.
Astai thought with a smile. Geraha's amateurishness was amusing. This kind of infantry combat was often done by Southerners. Though, those fellows could not do it as well as they were doing now.
—Regardless of the fighting style, who cares. We are outnumbered.
After a considerable amount of time, the Ishma soldiers broke the encirclement and showed signs of gathering.
"It seems they're coming," Astai said.
The number of enemy soldiers likely still exceeded their own.
"Shall we flee? If we flee in a way that drags them toward the main army, we might meet reinforcements."
"No. Astai-nii, let's finish them off soon."
Geraha drew his sword for the first time. As for the horses, Geraha said.
"Our fatigue is less."
Astai nodded deeply. "I'm glad, Geraha!"
There was no need to lure the enemy. The enemy soldiers' gathering point was at the foot of the hill, far too close.
"Men, return to your horses! As soon as you mount, charge down!"
Geraha's unit charged down the hill, making the earth shake. Riding the momentum of victory, they plunged into the midst of the enemy. There was no trouble in the enemy's collapse. The Ishma soldiers had not finished gathering and were losing their footing.
The soldiers of the Ishma division retreated, their numbers greatly reduced.
When it was over, only enemy soldiers filled the fields. It was a great victory, like a dream.
"Geraha, we won," Astai said.
"Yeah," Geraha nodded innocently. "Our bows were superior."
That's not it, Astai thought.
In terms of skill with the bow and arrow, there was no difference between the two armies.