A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor-Chapter 1176 The Ability to Overwhelm - Part 9
1176: The Ability to Overwhelm – Part 9
1176: The Ability to Overwhelm – Part 9
He chased them, just enough to make them alter their course ever so slightly, and then he gave another order, and targeted the soft flesh of the army that lay beyond.
“WE CARVE A HOLE!” Oliver bellowed.
Three forces of the Patrick army made their commitments to their attack.
“They’re like bees,” Zilan said, grimacing in irritation.
The effect that they were having seemed to be minimal, but the real issue was that with how spread out the attacks were, they couldn’t all be solved in a single sweeping move.
That gave the Blackthorn forces in particular the time that they needed to dig deeper into the Verna army and reach the siege weapons that lay beyond.
They already had felled a catapult, and they sent the siege engineers fleeing as the swords came down upon their backs.
It was the Blackthorns that the chariots decided to target.
They looped around past Lombard’s attack, just as they had passed Oliver’s, and they ran along the front of the army’s line, just so that they could attempt to target the chariots from the back.
“WITHDRAW!” Lombard gave the order, his sword wet with blood.
They’d bitten in deep, but his own retreat came swiftly regardless.
“WITHDRAW!” Tolsey said, finding the same ease in turning his men around that Lombard had, It was as if the path that they’d cut through had been sliced exactly right for their eventual retreat.
It wasn’t a straight line deep through the Verna army, but rather several horizontal lines of damage, connected loosely in their verticality.
It allowed the men the gaps they needed to slip back without overwhelming resistance, by giving themselves places that they could run into.
Had the Verna army not been acutely aware of the attacks that were landing in other directions, even that likely would not have been enough – but those Verna men weren’t particularly keen to punish a retreat that wasn’t coming easily to them.
They seemed to much prefer the relative safety that would be offered by once more tightening their formation.
Lombard and his men were free without incident.
They might have stopped there, but they gave chase without hesitation.
Though they had infantry mixed in with their cavalry, Lombard gave the order, separating his men from the bloodshed, and taking them down a path that seemed more irritating than it was arduous.
They rounded the corner of the formation just after the chariots did, and though they were not exactly keeping pace with them, they kept the pressure on.
“Commander Blackthorn!” Lombard shouted, from the head of his charge.
The woman had only just looked up then.
She was deep within the throes of combat, and even with Jorah shouting his warnings to her, she’d had a hard time listening.
Her attack hadn’t penetrated as deep as she would have liked it, but nevertheless she was forced into her decision, with two catapults and a ballista having been destroyed as a result of her efforts.
“Retreat,” she said calmly, entrusting the specifics of that retreat to Jorah, who acquiesced, and began to reorganize their formation posthaste.
“Infantry, from the front!” Jorah said.
“Kaya, Karesh, make sure they don’t close this shield wall up around us!”
The chariots were set to hit them at any moment.
Trapping inside the Verna ranks, with chariots bearing down on them, that ought to have been a death sentence.
But the persistence of Captain Lombard hung behind those chariots, as imposing as a cloud of thunder.
More than a few of the chariotmen looked over their shoulder, to confirm that they were still giving chase.
Though Lombard seemed unlikely to reach their target before the Verna chariots did, he knew that his sheer presence would lessen the degree to which they could leverage their attack.
If they were stopped, the rear of a chariot was by far its most vulnerable point.
They couldn’t afford to waste such weapons quashing a mere two hundred men.
And all the while, Oliver’s attack bit in deeper.
He kept an eye on the battlefield as he went, using Ingolsol’s awareness.
He tracked Lombard’s assistance of Blackthorn, and offered the man a silent degree of thanks.
‘Gratitude, Lombard… If not for men like you, this option would not have been nearly as effective.’
Keeping their five forces split throughout the duration of the attack was one option, but reinforcing another group when it was necessary was another option too.
It required men of a specific temperament in order to carry out such supporting roles, and being aged as he was, and calm to boot, Lombard did not shy away from what would otherwise be classed as minor roles, devoid of glory.
As Oliver expanded his awareness, he felt his fourth force begin to move, headed by Verdant.
Then, after a few moments, he could hear them too.
“IN THE NAME OF OLIVER PATRICK, LET US TEAR OUR FOES TO PIECES!” He said.
His group was comprised purely of Patrick men, just as Oliver’s group and Lady Blackthorn’s group were not.
They’d had to worm in a number of Yoran’s men, in order to make up for the number desperately.
However, overwhelmingly, they were still Patrick soldiers at the heart of the force, and that was made clear by the enthusiastic reply.
“”URRAHHHH!””” They bellowed, echoing the Command in Verdant’s voice.
It was a small degree of Command, but it was unmistakable.
Somewhere along the line, Oliver realized, Verdant had been learning to wield it on the battlefield just as he himself had.
Verdant’s men were positioned opposite Oliver’s own, towards the east, and near the encampment.
The timing of their attack could not have been better.
As far away as they were – far enough that Oliver could only hear Verdant’s words if he raised them to a shout – their synchronization was still as tight as it always was.
And still, General Zilan did not move.
He drank it all in, and saw the dents that were being made to his formation.
He stroked his wispy black beard, and considered his courses of action, knowing full well General Rainwater’s attention was fixed to him all the while.
