The coalition member tribes' combined camps were like a disturbed anthill. Most warriors had been on break, but now they rushed to put on their gear and fetch their mounts. Nobody seemed to know why they were called to battle, but discipline and mental preparedness caused them to move without questioning the situation. If the Gadat were attacking, they needed to be ready to defend their families.
"I have to return to my tribe," Altuna called out to Viyal. She nodded at Toragan, then let out a high-pitched tweet that rang across the camp. For a moment, there was no response. But then, a commotion of shocked screams approached them. Around a tent appeared two Hyarul, sprinting at full speed, expecting the people in their path to make way. They were Altuna and Toragan's mounts, following her call. "We shall meet again when we do."
With these words, the Shaankhor princess climbed onto her Hyarul and rode off, closely followed by her instructor. Viyal watched as they let out warning trills for people to get out of their path until they left her sight.
"What will we do?" Yunil asked beside her. She looked at her sister and noticed that she had gotten rid of her quarterstaff somewhere. She tried to hide it even now.
"We'll talk about you later," Viyal declared with a frown, causing Yunil to shrink under her gaze. "For now, let's find out what all this is about."
Thus, she ran through the camp and headed for the Shinoona pen. Surely, her brothers or her uncle would be able to explain the situation. When she reached the busy pen with Yunil, they found Noro and Saro helping Savira and Vayari onto their mounts. They noticed her approaching and frowned.
"You should not be here," Saro said.
"You're too young to head out," Noro added.
"What's going on? Where is Father?" Viyal ignored them and asked, out of breath.
"A messenger arrived telling us to head out fast," Noro responded with a shrug.
"We don't know any more than that, either," concluded Saro, climbing onto his Shinoon. They were eager to prove themselves in battle, regardless of what form it took.
Viyal was suddenly yanked off her feet by her tail before being gently placed onto a Shinoon's back. She looked back in confusion and found her uncle beside her, showing off a mischievous grin. "You can come and witness our battle. Stay far, and don't tell your father."
Her face lit up in joy while Noro and Saro shook their heads in disapproval. Luckily, their mother was not here, or she would have stopped her by any means necessary. But she could not always stay hidden away in the safety of their camp and wait until her thirteenth birthday. Being isolated from the rest of the world would stunt her mental development. Of course, she still had the memories of her past life, so she was plenty grown-up. But if it ever came to it, she would use this argument to get her freedom.
"Do you know what's going on, Uncle?" Viyal wondered as she rode next to him. They headed out of the camp to inspect the warriors as they quickly gathered in ranks.
"I'm about to make an announcement," Gavro responded with a warm smile. He seemed proud that his niece was so interested.
She patiently waited beside him, watching the riders assemble on the field before them. Noro, Saro, and their wives soon joined them and peered across their combined tribe with pride. Viyal looked around and wondered where Yunil had gone. She had disappeared somewhere along the way. Hopefully, she did not grow a sense of duty and went off to tattle on her to their mother.
For now, Viyal counted the gathering warriors and eventually projected their numbers to be roughly seven hundred by the time their rapid massing turned into a trickle. When she was only born, the Zakhira barely consisted of five hundred people, and that was including all the civilians. Now, their riders alone surpassed that. They had come a long way in such a short time.
And she knew these were far from all of them.
"Hear me, mighty warriors of the Zakhira! We ride to intercept a caravan heading for one of the Gadat forts. They're slowed down by Ukhara carts laden with supplies for the coming winter," Gavro announced in a booming voice. "The Gadat are preparing to stay. We're going to show them that they're not welcome!"
He raised his spear with a roar, and the warriors followed his example. The thunderous cheer washed over Viyal, and her hair stood on end with tension. She had seen plenty of large gatherings like this in her previous life, but never once had they been of one mind and one heart like this. This was what it meant to lead an army. In time, she would be where her uncle stood, and all eyes would be on her, cheering in her honor.
Gavro turned his Shinoon around and rode forth, waving his spear high in the air. Viyal barely kept up with him and glanced back, finding the Zakhira army following them eagerly. Yunil suddenly came in from the side on a mount of her own, carrying a proper spear. It looked like she wanted to join the battle.
"Oh, no, you don't!" Viyal pointed at it with a glare that left no room for argument.
"I'm not going to fight!" Yunil looked almost offended. "This is to protect you!"
"Really?" Viyal narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
"I will never do something you don't want, Sister," declared the young Nokkoy, putting her balled fist on the center of her chest. It was the steppe people's gesture for a promise; should she break it, she would take a spear to the heart without complaint. Viyal understood her conviction and nodded in approval.
Other armies emerged from the massive coalition camp and joined their forces, waving their banners to signal whose tribes they belonged to. Their numbers swelled to over five thousand in the blink of an eye, a wave of riders rolling across the steppe like the wind. Although they were only attacking a caravan, this army was a show of force.
Still, it was only a fraction of the coalition army. Most troops were left behind to guard the camp since this was not yet the decisive battle. They needed to show their might for this first strike, but they also had to hide their full strength until the Omagal Empire sent a punitive force. At that time, if they issued twenty thousand soldiers to deal with this situation, the full might of the coalition's more than thirty thousand riders would charge them down in one fell swoop.
Viyal had never ridden a Shinoon at full gallop for this long. But traveling on a high like this made time fly in the blink of an eye. Soon, an earthen fort came into view over the horizon. It was a settlement with a wall built from the soil taken from a moat now filled by the river. The wall towered over five meters tall, making an assault without siege weapons impossible. If the Gadat caravan came from the empire to supply it, it would surely approach from beyond. They would have to cross the small river and round the fort to attack the vulnerable procession. At that time, the defenders inside would likely sally forth to intercept them.
"This is as far as you go, Viyal," Gavro declared and pointed to their right at the tallest hill overlooking the area. The Sunrise Lowlands were mostly flat, so it was barely an elevation worth speaking of, but it would grant her a good view from a safe distance. "Yunil, make sure to keep her there."
"Understood," the Nokkoy placed her fist on her chest and acknowledged the order. Viyal frowned at that gesture. It was not meant to be used as a salute, but perhaps that was all her sister thought of it. Her promise from earlier rang hollow now.
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Viyal and Yunil split up from the advancing army and headed toward the hill. She looked back and noticed a lone rider following them. When he caught up, she realized it was Tashi, wearing the steppe people's outfit for the first time. So far, he had always made do with his old Gadat clothes, but perhaps there was a shift in his mindset now.
"What brought on the change?" Viyal wondered when he lined up beside them.
"I can't always hold onto my past," he responded with a distant look. Then he scratched his head and smiled wryly. "And they were getting too worn out to be presentable to you, my lady."
She knew that the former was the true reason, and the latter was to lighten the mood. Although he had yet to tell her of his past, perhaps the time would arrive soon now that he could finally let go. She expected it to be a heavy topic, so it was only right to wait for him to open up on his own.
They reached the top of the hill and looked across the landscape. In the distance were the eternally snowcapped mountains of the Zarukhan Mountain Range. She finally spotted the caravan, a massive procession that stretched back for hundreds of meters. Viyal could see the Ukhara mentioned in the scouting report. The oxen-like draft animals slowly pulled gigantic carts towering with sacks and barrels. Alongside them walked civilian families pulling hand carts that perhaps carried all their earthly belongings. This was more than a supply caravan; these were settlers sent here by the empire to cultivate the land.
Viyal peered down and watched the coalition army veer right. A group of riders emerged from the shadow of a small hill and joined up with them. She spotted the gallant figure of her father among them, but there was no sign of Ivakha. Surely, the Snowblood would not join the battle herself, even if she was likely capable of doing so.
The army rode alongside the river and passed the fort, from which a pillar of smoke rose. It was a signal to warn the caravan in the distance. But it came far too late, as the Ukhara carts could not speed up appreciably even when their drivers cracked their whips desperately. A wave of fear gripped the civilians, but there was nowhere to hide on the wide-open plains.
Amiro soon directed his Shinoon down the rocky bank. The army followed him into the shallow stream and quickly crossed the only barrier keeping them from reaching the caravan. As if the defenders in the fort realized the inevitable, they blew a horn that carried across the plains with the wind. The southern gate was opened, and a stream of cavalry on horses sporting a single curved horn on their foreheads emerged. However, there were perhaps only a few hundred riders before only infantry issued forth. And even that stream dried up quickly. All in all, there were only a little over two thousand troops.
Their numbers were obviously inadequate to deal with the steppe army, but they still tried. Viyal looked at Tashi and saw him stare with a disgusted face. The commander in the earthen fort sent out the troops to rescue the caravan even though there was no hope for victory. He was either a fool or desperate beyond measure. And judging by Tashi's expression, it was the former. He must have seen his share of commanders with no regard for their men, expecting results without understanding the situation.
The coalition troops were much faster than the Gadat, who had to slow down for their infantry running in full lamellar armor, and left them in their dust. Their aim was the caravan, which had come to a stop and tried to create a defensive wall with their gigantic carts. But the procession was too long and sluggish to form up quickly against the approaching threat. The civilians in their midst ran around like headless chickens while soldiers desperately bellowed commands. It would likely be over before their reinforcements from the fort could reach them.
"Over there," Tashi pointed to the left and then the right. Smoke rose from over the horizon. The nearby forts had seen the smoke signal and returned the message. Surely, they would send reinforcements, too. But by the time they arrived, it would likely all be long over.
The wave of steppe riders came into range to shoot their bows at the caravan. At the command of Amiro, relayed by the other chiefs riding at the front of their tribes, the warriors loosed their arrows at full gallop. A rain of deadly projectiles came down on the Gadat, but most survived the first volley by hiding behind their carts.
The caravan guards returned fire with crossbows, but Viyal breathed a sigh of relief when most fell short or flew over the raiders' heads. The coalition troops split left and right on the approach and unleashed a barrage of arrows from all sides while riding past the defenders. This time, more shots found their targets, distinguishing not soldiers from civilians, man from beast. Such was the way of the steppe.
Screams of pain, and shrieks of death, carried by the wind across the steppe, faintly reached Viyal's ears even from this far. Shizuru had heard about the horrors of war in her time, but she had never witnessed them firsthand. As Viyal, she had seen a few skirmishes between the Zakhira and bandits or other tribes. But this massed combat was something completely different. Within minutes, hundreds of lives were snuffed out, accompanied by the cheers of the assailants as they pressed the attack.
But she understood that this was necessary. If they did not beat back the Gadat early on, they would carve up the steppe people's land until they could no longer muster any resistance with their diminished resources. History class taught her that such things occurred aplenty across the globe.
The coalition army split in two, with one half heading for the Gadat reinforcements coming from the fort. Meanwhile, those who stayed to surround the caravan picked off the remaining defenders from afar. Viyal watched anxiously as her father led the army to engage the enemy soldiers. It was the moment of truth. Fighting caravan guards, often merely mercenaries, was one thing; facing trained soldiers of an empire was on an entirely different level.
As before, they came into range to unleash their arrows. But unlike the caravan guards, the professional soldiers did not waver. Their cavalry retreated into their center, and shield bearers formed a wall of massive tower shields, creating a fortress on the battlefield. The volley bounced off the steel-plated surfaces harmlessly, upon which the shield wall opened gaps to let crossbowmen shoot back. For the first time in this engagement, Viyal saw steppe warriors fall, struck by a volley of crossbow bolts.
"They will be all right," Yunil said beside Viyal. She glanced at her sister and realized that she had spoken to convince herself. It would be a cruel joke of fate if her family were to die here.
She stared intently and focused on the red manes of the Mosyvvi among the steppe warriors. They rode in a circle around the enemy, which settled into a box formation, and released arrow after arrow until they were down to half. Then, they called a retreat to rejoin the unit assaulting the caravan. Viyal could not hear their commands from this far away, but she immediately understood what would happen next.
The Gadat realized they had weathered the attack with minimal casualties. They wore heavy armor, carried long pikes and halberds, and had impenetrable tower shields. In terms of their equipment, they were clearly superior. And judging by the steppe people's immediate retreat when their seemingly all-out attack did little damage, greater discipline, too.
Thus, they took down their impromptu fortress, and the cavalry gave chase. That was when the steppe warriors twisted their upper bodies on top of their mounts and shot backward. Before the Gadat could realize their error, a hail of arrows peppered their riders and the infantry following in their wake. As they retreated in a panic, Amiro directed his troops to turn around and press the attack once more.
It was the Parthian shot. An army of mounted archers would feign a retreat, baiting the enemy into chasing at full speed. Then, they turned in their saddles and shot backward with an incredibly difficult posture most people would never even consider possible. The pursuers would have no time to react and received a full volley of arrows as they charged.
Shizuru was the perfect student, so of course, she would remember such things from history class. The steppe people of her world used it throughout history, most often against foreign armies not familiar with their tactics. Even if the enemy knew it was coming, it was hard to defend against unless one gave up chasing retreating armies in general. In the heat of the battle, such decisions were quite difficult and required a level-headed commander.
The Gadat commander, it would appear, had been shot off his mount and trampled under the hooves of his troops. With their leader gone, the soldiers were thrown into a full rout. The shield bearers threw down their heavy shields and ran back toward the now seemingly infinitely distant earthen fort as arrows claimed their comrades left and right. Viyal almost felt sorry for the enemy as she watched the steppe warriors pick them off unhindered, first with arrows and then with spears. Amiro led a detachment and circled around to cut off their path back to the fort and, with it, any chance of survival.
In the other engagement, the caravan defenses had been overrun, and the steppe people boldly rode through the gaps in the giant carts. They began plundering the Ukhara carts while the civilians dropped their belongings and scattered in every direction, running for their lives. Some riders gave chase and captured them with Gokhe, specialized hooks to catch people and animals alive. They would be sold back to the empire for ransom or become servants in the tribes. Those who offered too much resistance were slaughtered mercilessly.
Viyal closed her eyes for a moment and offered a silent prayer. Then, she opened them again and seared the sight into her mind. This was the fate of the losers in this world. She was lucky to have been born on this side, born a chosen one. Never would she let her people face such a situation as long as she breathed.
With this thought, she witnessed the steppe people's first strike against the Gadat. The war had begun with a bang that would ring all the way to the Omagala Empire's capital in no time. Swift retribution would follow, and that was what the coalition counted on.