As a scholar, I know little of the arts of warfare. Nor is the study of combat practiced by explorers, inspectors, or sorcerers, but Erun Nassah was of military lineage and had served with cavalry patrol forces on the imperial frontier in the west. Much of what follows was transcribed from insight and commentary he offered upon observing the Kharal in battle.
Tugun Khagan's warband rode east for four days, leaving its mustering grounds behind. It was then forced to halt for two days due to a blizzard that left everyone huddling in their tents in balls of fur, hair, and misery until the winds finally ceased their snow-empowered torment. The Khagan then proclaimed a day of rest before resuming progression on the eighth day. Early in the morning of the ninth day his lead scouts spotted troops from the Mumsassim Khanate, ruled by Susum Khagan. Reacting quickly, his warband brought the enemy to battle in late afternoon on the same day. The engagement took place on the northern edge of a rise known as Horncurl Hill. The name came from an oddly spiral-shaped curve of the ridge there, which could be observed from above.
In accomplishing this race, great achievement was earned by the scouts, and by the chieftain of the Kasumanus Tribe, who led the third and northernmost column of warriors and whose troops rode bitterly hard throughout the day to reach the battlefield in time for the final push. All were later duly honored.
The battlefield unfolded due to largely unseen maneuvering across a vast reach of steppe, not grasped until much later. Susum Khagan had, acting in some haste, assembled some ten thousand warriors in a warband under the command of General Nimukash and dispatched them to defend this region. It was later revealed that Susum Khagan had erred, failing to anticipate an early winter offensive by Tugun Khagan due to the distraction of a much larger force assembled in the south under the Kudustushgu Khanate that threatened the Nikkad river settlements along the southern border. General Nimukash's force, assembled swiftly, hurried west in the hopes of screening the local clans as they retreated before Tugun Khagan's advance and endeavored to preserve their precious herds from mass theft. This warband was divided into three columns and moved with perhaps unreasonable haste. Due to newly fallen snow laid down by the blizzard, their tracks were spotted by the scouts as they headed towards Horncurl Hill. The hill preserved a bend in a rapidly flowing stream that was known not to freeze until late in the winter and therefore served as a key watering point.
Tugun Khagan, receiving word from his scouts, ordered his forces to converge upon the hill with all possible haste. General Nimukash had his own messengers and soon spotted this action. Knowing his movements after the fact, the choice he faced becomes clear. He could race west and give battle at the hill despite inferior numbers, or he could retreat and sacrifice his lead column, nearly three thousand warriors, as they would be inevitably pursued, caught, and overwhelmed. The choice he made, typical of Kharal mentality, was to race forward and fight, despite the disadvantage in numbers and the circumstances of timing that would force him to line up before an enemy with the sun at their backs, a most serious impediment in an engagement primarily decided by archery.
Tugun Khagan, immediately upon arriving at Horncurl Hill, ordered his troops into battle at once. Circumstances, the short winter days of Shdustu, forced his hand as well, as little light remained to engage. Night attacks are considered by the Kharal to be madness, for a cavalry clash in darkness almost inevitably results in mass slaughter on both sides. As such, Tugun Khagan drew up his lines swiftly and simply, gave orders to his chieftains in their mandated maneuvers, and then launched the assault without further preamble.
'In a battle between horse archers, maneuver is everything,' Erun explained when it was done. Forces of Kharal warriors, directed against each other, are exceedingly similar in composition, quality, and any other facet of military planning of consequence. Opportunities for tactical innovation are therefore limited, as the capabilities of any given group vary modestly at most. This results in simple methods commanding the heart of their warfare. The central goal is to enclose or flank the enemy so that more arrows can be directed into a unit than they can return back at their attackers. This is most commonly done by attempting to extend the wings of a cavalry formation beyond that of the opponent while holding fast in the center. This appears quite simple, drawn out on a map, but watching it in person with thousands of horses charging back and forth across the steppe makes it clear that even such an ostensibly basic maneuver is, in truth, monstrously complex.
When fighting each other, the Kharal are constantly fluid, never stopping, always whirling about. Each individual unit makes endless circles, first towards, then away from, their opponent, shooting arrows all the while, even as the enemy does much the same. It is rather like ripples in a pond from two dropped stones clashing together, though they never touch, not completely. They will ride towards each other at dangerous speeds only to turn about and streak back at the last moment before lances would be set. Sometimes, in moments of maximal chaos, the leading edges of the formations will even intermingle, and riders will pass through the front ranks of their foes completely unscathed, for the approach is sufficiently swift that none have the time to drop their bows and draw blades. The Lady Indili, who stood beside me on the hill as we watched arrows fly, horses scream, and men die, said it was like watching two snakes circling each other, fangs bared and bodies shifting, always looking for the opportunity to bite.
Arrows flew everywhere. With nearly twenty thousand warriors engaged and as many as sixty shafts apiece, it is possible that over one million arrows were brought to the battlefield. Most would accomplish nothing, save to hammer into the ground, shields, armor, or horseflesh without inflicting serious injury. Riders would dash about the battlefield with two, three, or even more arrows stuck into their armor, still fighting capably, clinging desperately to their seats. Any man knocked from his horse would be trampled to death very swiftly, something a heavy arrow impact at a moment of poor balance could induce. Splinters and bits of ragged fletching filled the air, as did snow, mud, and grass clumps, all roughly mixed together.
Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.
This arrow-flinging, horse-wheeling scrum went on for what seemed an eternity, but based on the motion of the slowly setting sun could not have lasted more than an hour, perhaps less. It soon became clear that, whatever Tugun Khagan's original intentions, the numeric advantage he possessed was too small to allow a proper envelopment of the flanks. General Nimukash's warriors fought capably and managed to continually adjust their lines to prevent being surrounded. It seemed, to those of us held back in observation, that the great horde of horses and men would soon be forced to separate due to exhaustion, lack of arrows, and darkness. Erun said as much aloud, declaring that no decisive point could form save if one of the commanders should fall. No doubt the thousands of archers knew this, and sought to arrange such an outcome, but the leaders moved about surrounded by bodyguards and on the best horses with the best armor. For an arrow to pierce through such protections would require the hand of the Divines at work.
Instead, the decision came about through the late arrival of the Kasumanus tribe from the north. This force, though modestly sized and thoroughly exhausted, was able to ride up along the flank, push through the small skirmisher screen left there, and launch arrows into the main body of the enemy largely unopposed. General Nimukash desperately worked the flags in the hopes of reorganizing his forces, but this effort was in vain. Volleys cleared saddles as men struggled to angle bodies and shields against projectile assault from multiple directions. Losses mounted rapidly, and the lines wavered.
Even as General Nimukash struggled to organize his men for a proper fighting withdrawal, Tugun Khagan seized the moment of opportunity. He raised a flag possessed of unambiguous meaning: the signal to brace spears and charge.
The result, from that point, was never in doubt. 'They will break,' Erun proclaimed from the hillside where we observed. The elite warriors of Sunshtasgus, the Khagan's heavily armored personal retainers, on powerful foreign horses with lances leveled, slammed into the battle line of their foes. This shock force drew all others to follow. Rather than make an effort to counter-charge, the warriors under General Nimukash simply broke apart and scattered, fleeing across the steppe in all directions. While many in the front ranks were caught in the clash of steel and horse, most broke free and escaped. Night was soon to come, and Tugun's warriors were far too tired to pursue for any length. In the final action of the day, several riders of the Kasumanus Tribe led by a young warrior named Taskudta charged in from the flank and pierced the heart of the enemy formation to briefly engage General Nimukash's elites. During this brief clash General Nimukash's eldest son, a young man of twenty-one, was struck from the saddle and later captured. This was accounted a most valorous deed, for the young man was worth a considerable ransom from his father. Several hundred other warriors were captured, either surrounded at the end of the engagement, or taken wounded. While many of the wounded captives would perish of injury or infection, for the Rose Opal Society refuses to treat injuries taken in proper warfare in Shdustu and elsewhere holding that war is an affront to their peaceful craft, survival rates were higher than I expected. The thick fur-lined winter robes worn by the Kharal cover almost the entirety of the body, and even when armor is pierced they serve to absorb some force. Likewise, arrows designed to pierce armor possess narrow points that drive only modest holes through flesh. So long as the arrow avoids the lungs, heart, or bowels, most men survive these blows. Those taken prisoner are treated well enough, for their families will pay ransom in livestock to see them returned.
After the battle, Tugun Khagan remained at Horncurl Hill for three days to treat the injured and to allow his warband to range across the steppe and pillage all who remained within reach. General Nimukash lacked the strength to oppose this rustling, and many of the spare horses his warriors had traveled with were seized in addition to the herds pastured locally. Great quantities of livestock, many thousands of animals of all kinds, were driven west, and camels were piled high with plunder seized from the yurts of the enemy. I was told, in passing by one of the warriors, that many generations ago they used to seize women during raids of this kind, but that practice had long since been abandoned.
The butchery was, all told, surprisingly modest. Tugun Khagan lost perhaps four hundred of his twelve thousand. General Nimukash suffered perhaps twice that in dead, and another five hundred taken prisoner. Significantly more horses perished than men, which is almost always the case in steppe battles. Afterward, Tugun Khagan rode west in very good spirits, having fully accomplished his goals through this short campaign. Erun considered the whole affair remarkably indecisive, barely worthy of the title of war at all, but he accepted that given the nature of Kharal warfare, this sort of maneuvering behind swarms of arrows would always leave most of the fighters alive. A truly decisive clash could only occur if both sides charged straight at each other, something neither would ever be foolish enough to do, or if they engaged in a confined space where scattering away in the end is impossible. Such locations are very rare upon the steppe.
'Lacking infantry, they cannot hold strongpoints and force a decision,' he noted. 'If the Khagan were prosecuting a war, this victory would amount to no real progress. Instead, his success simply allowed for banditry on a mass scale.' True though this statement is, I doubt the Khagan would share in Erun's assessment, or in his disgust. The khanates do not appear to be capable, or even truly to seek, to conquer each other. They do not even, despite their claims at dominance, properly care to subjugate the Nikkad who live among their dominions. Yet at the same time, their lifestyle and the nature of Shdustu itself rendered them almost wholly immune to conquest in the sense the Sanid Empire defines it.
Bloodshed spilled in battles such as occurred at Horncurl Hill is necessary to sustain the bonds of loyalty the Khagans rely upon. From the perspective of commerce, it also serves to insure that those pastures that lie far from the caravan routes are able to claim wealth rather than exist in impoverished, and rebellious, isolation. To that end, the steppe is periodically fertilized with blood.