Session One Hundred and Sixty - May 15, 2021

[Matt]

Nolus 23, 733

The previous day Lord Ewen Ravinargh had ordered a search-and-destroy mission, to proceed up the east bank of the Kald. The morning came with cold pouring rain, but nothing changed. The soldiers of Caer Olokand drew their rations and sharpened their blades in preparation.

One of the gate guards intercepted Sir Baris and Squire Goreg. “Sir! There's a man at the gate who says he bears a message from the Thardan ambassador.”

The pair hustled to the gate. Waiting there, tending to his horse, was a pockmarked fellow. He was tall, stout, and bore the mien of a fighting man.

“Welcome to Caer Olokand! I am Sir Baris Tyrestal. What's your name?”

“Denzil, Sir Baris. I bear greetings from Sir Wesel Maytum. He ordered me to report to Lord Ewen Ravinargh once I arrived.”

“Goreg, go find Lord Ewen. He'll want to hear this.” Goreg checked the new arrival's credentials and hustled off. “Can I interest you in an ale, Denzil?”

“I'm obliged, Sir Baris, but I'm not one for ale. Would the castle have any mead or cider?”

“Of course! Ronen!” He shouted to his stepson/squire. “Fetch this man a mug of some refreshing beverage that is not ale, and get me one that is ale.” His brow knotted in the logic puzzle, the boy departed to the buttery.

Ewen appeared, dressed in his traveling cloak and armor, ready for the mission. Denzil drew himself to attention.

“Milord!” he said with a bow. “I am Denzil of Everdana. Sir Wesel Maytum, Ambassador of the kingdom of Tharda, has sent me in order to find out the situation here. He will be coming north with the Royal Kaldoric army , and wants to know what they can expect.”

“Greetings, Denzil. I am Lord Ewen, Baron of Ternua and Sheriff of Meselyneshire The situation is that the Vikings have come down in strength. They are harrying our forces, and even attempted to besiege this castle—though they were unable to take it.”

“We had heard there were many raids, milord, but not that the Vikings had the strength enough to besiege castles.”

“We estimate there are between 960 and 1,280 of the devils. They're split between the east and west banks of the Kald, with a pontoon bridge strung between Setrew and Halperin which allows them to concentrate their forces.”

“Did they come overland from Orbaal?”

“Yes, but no one is sure how. Perhaps they sailed down the Ovien River and then portaged to the headwaters of the Kald. But how could they transport warboats over such terrain? Not their biggest vessels, but still sixty feet long?”

“I can't imagine, milord.”

“Now, Denzil, I have a question for you. You came from Tashal?”

“Yes, milord.”

“How fast is the Royal Army mustering?”

“All I know is that more calls have gone out than have been answered, milord. When I left, no troops had mustered.”

That is extraordinary, Ewen mused. It's been more than two weeks.

Ronen returned with the tankards for Baris and Denzil.

“If it does not contravene your instructions,” said Ewen, “you are welcome to accompany us on a raid, which is leaving forthwith. We will advance up the east side of the Kald, as far as Baseta. It may give you eyewitness to our exertions. Due to the disparity in our forces, our approach to the conflict has been irregular. You may find it interesting.”

“I'd be happy to come, milord. I am merely eyes and ears for the ambassador, but I try to be useful in any situation I'm in.”

“From the look of you, I think you will be. You are welcome.”

Denzil sank the cider and remounted his horse.

Ewen's men formed up at the gate to depart. Their complement included twenty knights, three Thardan companies of medium foot, another company of medium foot from the Barony of Ternua, the Ternua yeomen with their short bows, Captain Thorpe's light horse, and the Gray Gryphons mercenary company, about 130 men in all. Ewen switched some of the knights of his household for knights from the castle garrison, to serve as guides. Sir Cardiel, Sir Daxton, Sir Pieras, Sir Elbrin and Sir Jartil accompanied him. Ewen ordered the light horse to range ahead, reporting back every so often.

A regiment of pigs had been brought inside the castle walls, to serve as provisions in case of siege. The troops made their way around them, and their copious dung.

The trumpet blew, the gate opened. The men moved out across the river.

Mud. Mud pulled at the boots of the men and the shoes of the horses. Trickles of water snaked down the hoods of their cloaks, down their backs, into their britches. No chance of anything like a good pace. More than an hour had passed by the time the force reached only Allence hundred. To avoid the chance of ambush, Ewen ordered a detour around Halperin.

By the afternoon, the rain had diminished to less rain, and they had reached Dyeselon. When Arva and Goreg had passed this way the previous week, none of the villages in this area had been raided. This was no longer the case. Dyeselon was now inhabited solely by scavenging birds. Almost all the buildings were burned-out shells. The men of the villages lay cold in the roads, accompanied by old women—but oddly few children, fewer than one would expect.

Ewen gave the order to press on while there was still daylight. The force reached Pendstin and found it in a similar condition.

So little rain was there now that any good Harnic man would scarcely call it that. There would be no shelter tonight, and no fires to attract random Vikings. It would be cold rations and cloaks. Such was the life of a soldier.

“Qorsad, fly up and scout around the vicinity,” Ewen messaged to the little dragon.

“Have you any idea how wet my scales are?” it complained. “I might not be able to get aloft. What if a raptor came by?”

“Think of the yummy treats you could see from a height.”

“Perhaps in the morning.” It preened its scales, then caught Cekiya watching, and stopped.

Sir Baris took first watch, and all was calm. Goreg took the second, with the same result, and was then relieved by Denzil. He was scanning the dark woods for any hint of enemy when Cekiya whispered in his ear.

“New man, I spy horsey eyes.”

Once he had managed not to jump out of his skin, Denzil also saw the eyes. In trees at the edge of the blasted, village, shining in the half-moon's light, a row of them, about five or six.

Cekiya crept off to investigate. Denzil dashed to awaken Goreg. Goreg woke Ewen.

“Milord, Denzil reports horsemen at the edge of town.”

Ewen groaned, unwound Qorsad from his arm, and ordered Captain Thorpe to mount up and prepare to flank the detected force. Goreg moved to wake Baris, Sir Dickon, and Sir Daxton.

When Cekiya reached the treeline, she could tell there were more horses, more than six—but no riders. They were snuffling and neighing softly, moving as bored horses move. Behind them was a break in the trees.

Ewen and the knights approached across the field. They spotted the horses as well.

“Baris, how many do you count?”

“About ten, I think. Look, they're on a line,” he pointed out.

“... Perhaps they were left here?” But by who? This didn't make any sense.

Baris abandoned cover and strode forward toward the mounts. “Halt! Who goes there?” a voice out of the dark demanded.

“It is I, Sir Baris!”

“Who's that?”

Ewen joined Baris. “It is I who should be asking who goes there. I am Lord Ewen Ravinargh, Baron of Ternua and Sheriff of Meselyneshire. Show yourself!”

“Stand and be recognized!”

Ewen strode forward.

“Well, you look like a lord.”

“I congratulate you on your perceptiveness.”

The voice revealed itself to be a man-at-arms, clad in plate and half-helm, wielding a sword.

“Are you a man of Baseta?” Ewen asked.

“I am a man of Yeged, squire to Sir Cathan Capel.”

“What be your number?”

“Perhaps you should speak to milord Baron.”

“I would be happy to speak with the Baron. Is he among you?”

The squire smiled in an almost sardonic way. “The Baron is nearby.”

“Excellent. I would welcome hospitality on this unpleasant evening.”

Noises came out of the woods. Ewen realized that his camp had been mirrored by another camp, one now rousing. Out from their number came a small, rather elfin man.

Ewen remembered meeting Churis Londel, Baron of Yeged, twice. Once was just a perfunctory nod at court, but the first had been at one of Lady Cheselyne's infamous parties. The Baron had sung a song with his minstrels, with skill that impressed even the troubador Ewen.

“Whose vassal is the Baron, Goreg?”

“The Earl of Neph, milord.”

“Very good. I knew, of course. I was just testing you.”

Cekiya and Captain Thorpe appeared from the south. A band of about ten knights of Yeged, with their squires, backed up the Baron. The two forces formed a circle around the noble lords.

“Lord Churis, greetings,” said Ewen. “It appears I am not the only baron out in the field tonight. Well met, milord.”

The Baron of Yeged frowned, squinted, as if he were trying to retrieve an item from far back in his mental wardrobe. He opened his mouth, shut it again, then finally said

“Lady Cheselyne's!”

“Exactly,” replied Ewen with a smile.

“But you were Sir Ewen then.”

“Yes.”

“So you're the fellow who got into all that ruckus?”

“Sometimes, to my chagrin, I generate ruckus.”

“And you killed Tarmas Verdreth, then.”

“I did. And his son.”

“So you're that fellow. Of all the people to meet in the middle of the woods!”

“If you think about it, it's not that unlikely.”

“That seems almost ominous. Frivolity aside, what are you doing here?”

“Hunting Vikings.”

“Yes. Found any?”

“On the west side of the river, we've seen plenty, more than our share. We met them in Halperin several days ago, and made a good accounting of ourselves.”

“Which day?”

“The 20th.”

“Huh. Huh. The very day of the debacle at Mirrindel.”

The what? “It sounds like we should compare notes.”

“It does. Do you have food to spare?”

“How long have you been in the field?”

“In the field, alone, three days. There's more to the story, of course, but my knights haven't eaten in two days.”

“Then you must join us. I have five companies, light horse, and twenty knights.”

“Should be safe enough for the moment. Come, we'll talk.”


Nolus 24, 733

They sat on the ground and told sad stories of the defeat of earls.

“On the 16th of Nolus, Meden Curo, Earl of Neph, rode forth from Gardiren at the head of his force, en route to Baseta. Not all milord's vassals had the time or inclination to join his muster, but since Yeged is only on the other side of the river, I felt a certain irresistible urge.” And the Baron gave his own sardonic smile.

“The Baron of Setrew had come to Gardiren after fleeing from the Vikings. On arrival he was taken into involuntary hospitality. The Earl was most displeased with his behavior. From there milord Neph gathered his troops. I contributed ten knights and a company of light foot—my entire force. His personal troops included two squadrons of medium horse, twenty knights, his guard, about one hundred foot, and a company of mercenaries, the Thicesund Sentinels. Sir Tiald was given field command, in the van. As we marched, the Earl took the center. My force was assigned to the rear.

“Milord the Earl displayed a curious aversion towards going anywhere near Olokand, so after reaching Trobrin Manor, we set across country. It was slow going. Following around the mountain, the head of column emerged near Mirrindel. It was there we were ambushed.

“I don't know what happened to the van. I suppose Sir Tiald and his men were killed by the time we even realized something was happening.”

“Do you know how many men the enemy had?” Ewen asked.

“No. Because of the trees, I couldn't see what was happening to the rest of the force. I attempted to bring my knights around to flank the Vikings. It was then I spotted a figure straight out of the Underworld. A massive, vicious-looking Viking with a banner bearing twelve withered human hands.”

“We are familiar with his body of troops.”

“His heavier foot broke off and formed a wall with their shields. We charged them—but they took our charge and broke it. I don't know how we made it away. I tried to rejoin the main force, but at that point the men of Neph were broken and running. Many were cut down in retreat.”

“And what of Lord Neph?”

“I didn't see him. I didn't see his body. I have no doubt whatsoever that he and his guard took the 'better path.' We ourselves decided to attempt to reach Olokand.”

“Had there been any discussion of contingencies, of where survivors might regroup?”

“Nothing of the kind. Our council of war involved the order of the march, and that was it. Then the Earl called for myself and my minstrels. That was the remainder of the evening.”

“That sounds like unfortunate planning.”

“Yes.” The Earl sighed. “My minstrels accompanied us. I assume they either fled or are dead now.”

“Milord Baron, we have had several encounters with the Vikings. They are a formidable foe. Your attempt to charge that shield wall was brave and well done. You were lucky to escaped unharmed.”

“Maybe it was reckless and poorly done.”

“Fortune favors the bold, and this story is not yet told at this point. We left a large body of men at Caer Olokand to fend off any second attempt to invest the wall. Our goal here is to do as we do as Halperin: to hit them when they are not expecting it, to gain intelligence, and to assess the situation at Baseta.”

The Baron laughed “Everybody's going to Baseta!”

“I suspect the constable there rues the fact that his little keep is the focus of so much attention.”

“He is an island in a swelling sea. Milord sheriff, unless the Earl of Neph should show his face, I will attach my retinue to yours. I trust ten knights are not unwelcome.”

“Not at all. I appreciate all the help I can get.”

Two young men joined the baron. “These are my sons. My youngest, Asord, serves as my squire. Irregular, I know, but I can't bear to part with him. And that one is Sir Keleren, standing in for his grandmother.” The lads bowed.

“Well met.”

“Milord sheriff, who is in command at Olokand now?”

“Lord Prehil Firith holds it in my absence.”

“I know Lord Prehil. A very loud fellow.”

“He is indeed. And also the best man to have at your side when there's trouble. I can't think of a better man to have in command under the circumstances.” Ewen thought for a moment. “Lord Churis, it occurs to me that while your barony is in fief to the Earl of Neph, Yeged is in Meselyneshire, not Nephshire.”

“Funny how these things happen, milord. I hope you'll accept my apologies for not having made a call.”

“I'm sure it's on your calendar,” Ewen replied. Everyone chuckled. “Oh, by the way: when was the last time you saw Sir Dregald Semos?”

“Lord Meden wanted to know what was going on in Tashal, so Sir Dregald was sent to find out. He was supposed to join us in Baseta afterwards.”

Ewen nodded. That explained why his clairvoyance has shown the knight in Neph House.


The new day was cool and overcast, with only a drop or two of rain. The force, supplemented by the Yeged knights, proceeded north to Mirrindel Abbey. The mud made for slow going. What should have been an hour's journey took two.

When the troops arrived, they found their worst fears realized. The abbey was mostly burned over. The few remaining inhabitants were burying their neighbors.

No Laranian clergy were in evidence. One man seemed to be directing the burial efforts. He bore a sword, though it was impossible to tell if it was his or if he had picked it up. Ewen rode over and introduced himself as Baron and Sheriff.

“Pardon me saying, your worship, but you came a little late,” said the man with a tug of his forelock.

“I understand,” replied Ewen. “I spoke with the Baron of Yeged, who was attacked here.”

“We know nothing of whose army it was, milord. Just that it was crushed, and our abbey along with it. I regret to say the abbot was among those killed.”

“I'm sorry to hear that.”

“They didn't kill him easy. The beasts cut off his hands first. Some of us watched from beyond those trees.”

“I know that Our Lady had granted him a more comfortable time in the afterlife.”

“I be a Peonian, milord.”

“Were there any of the clergy spared?”

“May have been. I think they took one or two with them.”

“Towards what direction did they depart afterward?”

“To the west, milord, as if to Halperin. Not on the road, cross land.”

Ewen smiled. That was an odd thing to do. Perhaps the Vikings didn't want to come too near Baseta. “And you? What is your station?”

“I be the reeve, milord. Parcel is my name.”

“Parcel, does Baseta still stand?”

“I've heard naught to say it doesn't, milord.”

Ewen surveyed the working party. There were about forty survivors, a mixed group of men and women. They must have hidden in the woods when the attack came. They were burying the soldiers, but carefully stacking the dead men's arms to one side.

“Is it your intention to remain here, Reeve?”

“Can't say we've thought that far ahead, milord. It might not be safe. But with charity, we couldn't leave these men to rot.”

“Well done, and to your credit. In Ambarnis we have undertaken to evacuate as many manors as possible. If it is not safe to remain here, fleeing south may be the best course of action.”

“I fear we may be the only people left south of Baseta, milord.”

“How far would it be for men on foot from Chamenin to Dabell, with the mud?”

“Across the fields?”

“Yes.”

“Milord, at least a day.”

Ewen considered, and ordered his men to proceed. About an hour and a half later, in the country between Mirrindel and Ansteedon, they met with two messengers from the light horse.

“Milord, Captain Thorpe reports a large body of men to the south.”

“What direction are they headed?”

“Northeast, milord. Towards you.”

“Excellent. We're heading to Chamenin, to ambush them.”


At a lonely crossroads, on a slight rise covered with ankle-high Nolus wheat, the Sheriff of Meselyneshire arrayed his forces. In front stood the foot: the Thardan lads, Dickon's company, Karnas's men, and Kupper's. Behind them were stationed two companies of bowmen, one to the left and one to the right. In the rear waited the knights, Ewen's under his command and the Baron of Yeged's under his.

As they finished taking up their positions, the Viking warband appeared out of the forest. By the hollering and pointing, the men of Kaldor knew they were spotted. The barbarians never hesitated, crossing the field and clambering over the sheep-hedge along the road. Ewen was outnumbered by at least one-and-a-half to one.

The bowmen opened fire. Most of their missiles passed harmlessly into the far meadows, but some of the Vikings managed to injure each other in their frantic dodging. Yet they continued to advance.

Ewen ordered the knights to mount. Cekiya set out on her own, ready to place herself wherever she could strike with the most effect.

The two lines met with screams and steel. The men of Kaldor fought bravely, but the more numerous Vikings began to curl around the edges of their line. The bowmen fired again, taking a greater toll this time.

The two squadrons of Kaldoric knights moved out in either direction, Yeged to the west and Ternua to the east, beyond the ends of the line of battle. Ewen sought a face among the enemy, and found it. Raami Pelanby was at the front of her warband.

Ewen unleashed his Deryni power, in the form of a red thunderbolt sizzling across the battlefield. Pelanby's head seem to dislocate from her body and fly across the green fields. Her body fell forward.

A moan swept through the Vikings. Pelanby's warriors, the Viking right, broke and scrambled back to the road. A few managed to rebuild their formation.

But the Viking left stood fast. Eilus Tenhands, fighting under his dread standard, laughed demonically and eviscerated another Thardan lad.

Ewen sent a message to Karnas to move his company to support the Kaldoric right wing, then moved his horse into position to charge.

The Vikings saw the charge coming, and formed their typical shield wall on each side. The Yeged charge hit them and was repulsed, but Ewen's squadron went up and over the enemy, scattering the huscarls and sending more of them screaming back past the road. The Thardan lads pressed their attack, and the Kalordic bowmen concentrated on picking off the retreating foe.

Trying to turn a Viking defeat into an all-out rout, Ewen again summoned his uncanny wyrd, this time to produce the illusion of a dragon, a fire-breathing monster the size of a barn. Alas, there was no way to warn his own troops this was coming. Half of the Kaldoric bowmen screamed and ran. But the cost was worth it. Eilus's warband joined their comrades in fleeing whence they came. Nothing the Viking leaders yelled, neither threats or entreaties, could make their men stand in the face of such terror.

Here was a chance to eliminate Eilus. Ewen galloped forward, again summoning eldritch energy and releasing it in a bolt of power, aimed at the many-handed standard. But the energy went awry, and its target escaped into the woods.

The Thardan Lads and Dickon's men gave pursuit, preventing the remaining enemy from reforming, keeping up the scare. The knights rode down random Viking warriors, adding to the feast of carrion littering the area.

The job complete, the Kaldoric force continued on to Baseta. As they arrived, they met Arva at the head of a small scout troop, coming out to look for them.