A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor-Chapter 997 - General Khan’s Head - Part 3

997: General Khan’s Head – Part 3

997: General Khan’s Head – Part 3

The men began to move just in time.

The slight deviation of their position was enough to take the worst of the sting off the arrow assault, sending most of the projectiles straight into the sandy dirt.

But that wasn’t to say they were without casualties.

A good section of their flank had been scorched, and many a man lay groaning, as he felt for a wound that was jammed with wood.

Those that could run continued to charge.

Those that couldn’t were forced to be left behind.

The archers reloaded, as calm as a deep puddle of water.

They hardly seemed to recognize the threat that was right in front of them.

It was almost eerie.

“Blackthorn!

Crush them!” Oliver said.

Lasha was pulling out ahead with her eager men, and the Yorick cavalry was just beginning to work up to their horses’ speed, and they were just behind.

Without a word of response, Lasha leaned down to the neck of her horse, and prepared her blade for the first cut of the charge.

Right until the instant that the Blackthorns collided with them, the Verna men were loading their bows with arrows, as if the enemy wasn’t breathing right down their neck.

They gave no thought to fleeing.

They were focused single-mindedly on their attack.

Then, the Blackthorns did what they did best.

From horseback, even Lasha’s light rapier dealt a powerful punching blow.

She split an archer’s skull in two with a side slash, covering her horse’s nose in blood.

The horse was just as bloodthirsty as she.

It struck out with its hooves at the next rank of men, and caught a busy archer straight in the ribs, knocking him off his feet.

Her men were just behind her as well.

Spears came rushing in, held low and tight.

The men worked with uniform discipline.

The entire front row hit together, and when they did, their spear points lifted men off their feet.

Corpses were staked and raised high into the air, and then with the same uniform motion, the men shook them off, and lowered the spears for another strike.

Brutal strength and efficiency.

The Blackthorns did that best.

Theirs was an overwhelming strength held together by disciplined formations, so unlike what Oliver had allowed to blossom with his own army.

The Yorick men hit to the right of the archers’ formation, just after the Blackthorns landed, and they too began to assert their dominance, using the speed that they’d brought through the charge.

It was strange that, even in the midst of trying to calculate his overall battle plan, Oliver still found the time to note the performance of the Yorick men.

He supposed that there was a certain looseness to them now, as the battle extended.

It wasn’t the sort of thing that they’d had before.

They were seeming to find a certain degree of comfort in combat.

Oliver knew he ought to nourish that.

When Oliver joined the assault with Verdant and Jorah, the line of archers was rendered all but demolished.

They gave no resistance, not at this range.

They were mowed down with the greatest amount of ease.

Oliver slew ten men quicker than he ever had before, but he could take no glory from that fact, for it still remained that he was being led around by his nose through the puppet strings of General Khan.

It was almost certainly a trap that he’d been led into.

Rather than finishing off the men as he normally would, Oliver ploughed straight through.

He wanted to see what formation had been constructed on the other side of the archer line, or if there even was one at all.

He drank it in seconds.

Another wall to the left, as thick as the one that had been constructed behind him.

Those shield wielders weren’t getting moved.

In addition to that wall to the left, though, now one had been constructed to the right, stopping Oliver from rejoining with General Karstly even if he’d wanted to.

Now the main arrowhead was far from the Patrick forces, as they breached line after single line in an endless display of endurance.

There was no chance of them exerting pressure on the right-hand shield wall.

It was a box, constructed entirely for the purposes of leading the Patrick men in.

Two walls to either side, and then, straight ahead of him, another row of archers, likely five hundred strong, just like the archers that they’d cleared.

It struck Oliver as a terrible waste of men.

He couldn’t fathom the Verna General’s tactics.

Was he that content to use his men as sacrifices, or was he trying to build towards something?

Oliver had played with similarly crafty men on the battle board, but it was another thing to go against one in a battle itself.

Besides, he’d never seen a strategy of this particular kind.

It was the sort of strategy only available to a side that was eternally accustomed to having superior numbers to its foes.

“Shit…” Oliver said, his eyes widening.

The archers that they’d struck weren’t even finished off yet, and already, there were arrows being cast into the air by their future foes.

It was a prudent decision to make – after all, those men weren’t going to survive, no matter how long they were given – but it was a merciless one.

The trap unveiled itself to Oliver in full.

It was only a single sacrifice that General Khan had been prepared to give.

This was a killing corridor, designed exclusively for his benefit.

He wheeled his horse around, preparing to give the order to retreat.

The only way was backwards now.

At least then, they would be out of range of the archers, now that they’d already crushed the ones closest to them.

There too, however, Oliver’s options had been taken from him.

Another nail in the coffin.

Another wall of shield wielders, cementing their position.

From all angles, but straight ahead, they were once again trapped.

The General issued him a challenge.

“Try,’ that challenge read.”