A flurry of activity took place around the camp as men hurried to prepare, collecting weapons and armour, readying their horses and mounting up. Vanas looked as surprised by the news as any.
“I did not know of this, Ishkinil,” he said. “Uthash’s army should be days away still.”
“Was there communication between the two armies?”
“Not that I am aware of.”
Ishkinil frowned even as she nodded. “It would seem that Uthash was of the like opinion as Ash-Negasu and sent cavalry forward as well, far ahead of his main force.” She swung up onto her mount, making ready. “Let us hope that there are no more surprises waiting.” So saying, she led the way back out of the oasis around the watering hole, back onto the sands and rocks of the wastelands beyond.
Already she could see the cloud of dust from the approaching cavalry, bearing in from the north-west. The road there had turned off more towards the north at one point, and the approach to the watering hole was obscured by the hills and buttes of the rocky badlands that sprung up to their north. Only when the cavalry had emerged from behind them had the scouts spotted them.
Ishkinil’s mounted archers were strung out between the watering hole and the approaching army and behind them she had her asshuri form up, a solid mass of silvered mail and powerful horses, ready to unleash upon the foe. To either side of them were Vanas’ men, lighter and swifter, ready to flank the enemy when engaged. Ishkinil waited at the centre, with Shurasur and Vanas.
“See there,” Shurasur said as he pointed to the centre of the approaching enemy cavalry, “They have their own asshuri. Maybe one hundred.”
“Aye, we have the advantage there, but they still have the number advantage. Uthash must have had more cavalry than we first through, or he has sent all he had here. There must be fifteen hundred light cavalry at the least.”
“No real mounted archers to be seen though.”
“Let us hope that is so.” She started her horse forward towards the enemy, drawing Dirgebringer, the famed white bone sword, gifted and shaped by the Bringer of Ends. White-blue flames ran along its length and around her the shadows drew in tight. The long line of asshuri followed, black and white pennons rippling from the tips of their lances, making ready to charge the foe, a solid mass of heavy horses and armour.
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The sun was making its descent into the west, casting long shadows before it, and on their current approach it would be behind the enemy, half blinding her force.
“Mounted archers are to engage,” Ishkinil ordered. “They are to harass and slow the enemy while we manoeuvre out of the glare of the sun.”
A rider went forth to relay the orders to the mounted archers while Ishkinil angled her force off the road, headed into the desert lands to the west, trying to swing around to the south of the enemy so that they had no advantage from the crimson sun. the ground was rocky and hard, and no real obstacle to their mounts, for there was no real sand to slow them down, nor boulders to break up their formation nor ditches or holes to trip up charging mounts. It was ground well suited for the flow of cavalry battles, of wheelings and charges and counter-charges.
The mounted archers when in as close as they could, swirling around the enemy cavalry from front and sides, and arrows arced through the air from them as they shot and turned and rode away. The arrows dropped in among the enemy and Ishkinil could see some of the enemy fall, horses and men struck by arrows.
From the ranks of the enemy, large numbers of the light cavalry broke away, charging out across the barren grounds to chase off the harassing archers. Some had bows of their own, but they were not nomads of the plains like Ishkinil’s men, and their bows lacked the range and they lacked the skill of their attackers.
All around dust was kicked up as horses turned and wheeled, swift darts flashing through the air. Soon the bodies of men and horses began to fall across the rocky ground, some struck down by arrows in flight or others cut down as the horsemen came to grips with each other. All was chaos and confusion and it soon became hard to make out much of what was going on.
Judging that she had brought her force far enough to the west, Ishkinil turned and began to ride north again, the sun no longer in their eyes. At a sign with her sword, they broke into a trot. Loud was the pounding of hooves upon the hard ground, and leather creaked and armour and harness jangled. Around them came shouts and cries as still the rolling clash of horsemen continued.
The enemy saw them coming and spread out into their own long line, coming forward at a trot. Through the dust she could see the gleam of the crimson sun upon armour, and upon the heads of spears and swords.
Then show lowered her sword and let forth a loud cry. At it the cavalry kicked their horses into a charge. Lances dipped and they pounded forward, hooves thundering upon the ground, kicking up thicker clouds of dust. The light cavalry swept out from the heavy asshuri, seeking to engage the enemy light cavalry, to break through them and sweep around the wings. The mounted archers cut in, unleashing a flurry of arrows before sweeping away again.
Through the oncoming dust Ishkinil watched the enemy come while around her the cries of her men were unleashed; “Uthar Athan Arack!”
And then the two charges of cavalry crashed together.