KnightofTempest
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Chapter 93
🕑 Added 2024-10-15 06:24:33 +0000 UTCOur advance through Cracklaw Point was aided by the arrival of Houses Hardy and Boggs, who both joined up with our host after hearing of the victory at Brownhollow. Lord Edmund Hardy and Lord Mathos Boggs each brought nine hundred men equipped in the fashion of Cracklaw Point, three hundred of which were Hobelars in chainmail mounted on light horses, with small shields, javelins, and spears for skirmishing. Six hundred of them were Gallowglass Heavy Infantry in brigandine over chainmail armor equipped with Sparth Axes or Greatswords. The remaining nine hundred were Kerns in padded jacks and boiled leather, with arming swords, a longbow and arrows, as well as a small, target shield.
It was a light force compared to medium cavalry, musketeers, and pikemen, but then, warfare in Cracklaw Point had largely been fought with light forces. The rugged terrain with its craggy hills, forests, and bogs made the point ideal for such forces to operate, and feuds between pointsmen Houses were often prosecuted with fewer set-piece battles and more skirmishes, raids, and ambushes.
The men were not the only thing that Lords Boggs and Hardy brought with them, however, they also brought with them news. It seemed that Lords Pyne and Cave had thrown in their lot with the Lannisters after being pressured by Lord Dickon Staunton to do so. Apparently, he hadn't taken his son's loss to Maric Seaworth in the Squire's Melee all those months ago well and viewed it as a personal affront. He'd thrown in with the Lannisters and had persuaded Lords Pyne and Cave to do so as well. Lord Staunton had tried to do likewise for Lords Boggs and Hardy, but they claimed neutrality before being won over by my victory at Brownhollow.
Moreover, the Caves and Pynes had, along with forces from House Staunton, House Baelish, Brune of Dyre Den, and Langward mustered a force of some eight thousand men for an ambush near the small town of Rills Run on the glorified goat path that served as the road from Brownhollow to Dyre Den. Apparently, there was a stretch of wooded hills just before reaching Rills Run on the banks of the Bownwater Stream that was ideal terrain for an ambush.
"How do we deal with this, My Lord?" Questioned Ser Loras Lothston.
"We could always burn down the forest." Hedged Ser Roger Groves.
"Aye, and the fire's like to spread to Rills Run." Snorted Lord Rupert Crabb.
"The Brownwater Stream's right there. If the townsfolk there've got any sense, they'll see the smoke and start drawing water from it." Huffed Lord Mors Marshberry.
"Do you want to annoy the locals? Because that sounds like an excellent way to do so." Chimed in Ser Harry Ruskyn.
"Indeed, we'll not get any resupply there unless we force it out of them." Added Ser Denys Irons.
"What do you think, My Lord?" Queried Clarence Waters.
"I think I'd like to hear from Lords Hardy and Boggs. They brought us this information, they might have a way to deal with an ambush." I intoned.
"There is a small path through the wooded hills, My Lord. The Brownwater Stream used to flow through them before it changed to its present course during the aftershocks that shook the world in the aftermath of the Doom of Valyria. The Dragondeath Gorge is the result, a dry riverbed running through the hills from the northeast. We could send a small party, no more than a thousand men, likey even fewer, to flank the enemy from the gorge." Offered Lord Edmund Hardy.
"It's a steep climb, however, and whoever goes needs to be able to make the climb with their gear. A dangerous prospect in the best of times." Cautioned Lord Mathos Boggs.
"My men can handle uneven terrain. When you have your sea legs and can keep them in the midst of stormy weather, a gorge is nothing." Boasted Salhaador Saan.
"My Summer Islanders are all excellent climbers. You have to be in the Red Flower Vale, especially if you live in the mountains." Insisted Jalhabar Xho.
"I can spare a few of my own men. I may be able to scrounge up a Battalion that can make the climb." Informed Prince Perros.
"No more than one battalion from each of you. Lord Hardy, Lord Boggs, send a battalion each as well." I ordered.
"What of the rest of us?" Asked Clarence Waters.
"We spring the trap and hope that the enemy doesn't notice that we've sent troops behind them. If we play this right, the enemy will be too busy with our forces in front of them to notice we've turned their trap around on them." I grinned.
And with that, the strategy meeting broke up for the night. Tomorrow we would resume our march, making the ambush site the morning of the day afterward. I dispatched our flanking force in the wee hours of the morning on the day of battle, hoping that the enemy wouldn't be watching their flanks or awake enough to notice. After all, how could we know of their ambush plans? The main force took our time striking camp, making a production of it to keep any enemy scouts focused on us before marching out. An hour before noon on the third day after the Capitulation of Brownhollow, the moment of truth arrived.
And we would see how my plans worked out. . .
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Lord Symond Cave watched on as the enemy force made its way ponderously down the Brownhollow Road, clearly none the wiser to their ambush. They showed no sign of knowing about their plans, their outriders and scouts riding out ahead of the main body down the road to Rills Run, passing by the Wooded Hills without giving them a second glance. Now all they had to do was wait for the road to fill up and they could spring their trap. It would clog the road with dying men and stop the enemy's march cold.
"Are we ready?" Questioned Lord Cave.
"Most of us. Baelish's Mountain Clansmen are being a touch difficult." Scowled Lord Edric Pyne.
Lord Cave's already lined and craggy face creased further in distaste at that as he rubbed his graying hair in frustration. He'd never felt comfortable with Littlefinger sending those Savages to aid them as part of his contribution. It didn't matter that there were tens of thousands of them willing to fight, representing Baelish's most immediate source of manpower, nor did it matter that Baelish had years to civilize them. A Savage was a savage. The Leopard doesn't change its spots in a day, after all.
"Difficult how?" Queried Lord Cave.
Lord Edric Pyne blew out a sigh. Lord Cave had to admit that the Muttonchopped, Scarred, Man knew how to whinge if nothing else. Lord Pyne had been absolutely willing to complain to anyone who would listen about how the position of Warden of Cracklaw Point should have been his for all the effort that Jon Arryn had put into courting him, only to die and have Lord Stark give the position to the Crabbs. He did likewise here regarding Timett One-Eye, the Commander that Baelish had sent along with the two thousand Mountain Clansmen that had joined them here for the ambush.
Of course, there were still three thousand waiting back at Dyre Den, along with the remaining reserves of three thousand Pointsmen and Staunton Troops. With Lord Eustace Brune in not the greatest of health, Lord Pyne wouldn't dare complain about the Clansmen in earshot of Timett One-Eye. He might send a runner back to Dyre Den and have the savages there under Shagga Twinaxe murder Old Lord Eustace in his bed for the insult. You never could tell with such barbarians, after all.
"Timett was insisting we post more men to watch the Dragondeath Gorge. Apparently, the sentries there were inadequate for his liking as if some upjumped Essosi and his collection of exiles and foreigners would even know about the Gorge in the first place." Scoffed Lord Pyne.
"How many men do we have watching the Dragondeath Gorge?" Asked Lord Cave.
"Two dozen or so sentries with another dozen runners. It should prove sufficient to warn us in advance. That's all we should need to get a message to our main force. Even if the enemy manages to get into the gorge, just navigating it will take time, after all." Answered Lord Pyne.
"It's too late now. Tell Timett that battle is upon us and the time for preparations is past. We'll be attacking in the next fifteen minutes." Ordered Lord Cave.
As he did that, he grabbed a plumed Burgonet Helm with the plumes in the black, white, and blue colors of House Cave. Lord Pyne did likewise, his own burgonet plumed in the Pike Gray and Forest Green of House Pyne. The two then threw on their padded cloth surcoats. On Lord Cave's, the White Band with Black Bats of House Cave on a field of black and blue was emblazoned. On Lord Pyne's, the Forest Green Trees on Pike Gray Field of House Pyne was embroidered. Moments later, they were joined by Timett One-Eye. The long-faced, one-eyed, Youth of nineteen years wore an unadorned castle-forged steel chainmail hauberk, as was his castle-forged steel hatchet and arming sword. The only adornment he had on him was the bearskin cloak and the matchlock pistol on the finely embossed leather baldric across his chest.
"We are getting on with it then?" Demanded Timett One-Eye.
"We are." Nodded Lord Cave.
"We have limited musketry. We must make our first volley count, we are unlikely to get a second." Intoned Timmet.
"We know. That's why we're striking from ambush." Pointed out Lord Pyne, rolling his eyes.
"You misunderstand. My burned men have been told that we are not to be using our muskets and instead charging down in the first wave." Pressed Timett.
"What is the problem, Timett?" Questioned Lord Cave.
"My Burned Men are better shots than most of your Musketeers. I have hand-picked one-hundred-fifty of them to join the first volley. You will allow this." Insisted Timett.
"Very well, if it will allow us to get on with this farce." Scowled Lord Pyne.
"Make your preparations and send your Musketeers to join ours, Timett. We attack shortly." Intoned Lord Cave.
Timett nodded and headed off to order his Burned Men to make ready for battle. Lord Pyne rolled his eyes at the Savage's back, and Lord Cave had to frown. It was true that such men were Savages, but Savages knew war. It was the one thing they seemed to do well as a universal constant. If Timett said his Burned Men were good shots, then he would agree to let them try. Of course, he wouldn't trust such men to garrison a town or any such thing, but they were canny enough fighters.
He supposed that they would all see how things went soon enough, as the attack began on schedule. . .
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For a moment as the main body of my army passed in front of the wooded hills without being attacked, it seemed as if the ambush would fail to materialize. I should have known that it wouldn't be quite that simple. Clearly, the enemy had practice setting up such ambushes and were simply waiting for the point where their attack would clog the road with men fighting and dying, making it more difficult to bring up troops from the rear and stopping our march in its tracks.
One moment, there was nothing, all was peaceful, and then a volley of musketry from the treeline roared out. I felt something heavy punch into my breastplate, knocking me off Armino and bruising my ribs. I landed hard on the ground, breath blasted from my lungs. Fortunately, the musketball failed to penetrate my armor, proofed as it was against such things. For over two hundred of my troops, they weren't as lucky. Falling to the ground in sprays of blood and with strangled cries, like puppets with their strings cut.
As I stood, studiously ignoring the ache in my ribs and drawing my Valyrian Steel Sidesword, a piercing war cry rose up from the treeline, and suddenly a wave of enemies was charging down the Hillsides towards our column. Fortunately, my forces knew exactly what to do in this scenario. As the drums beat in double time, our column immediately formed into a line, pikes ready at the charge and prepared to skewer anyone who came at them.
Notably, it didn't look like it was just Gallowglasses and Kerns of the Point, but also what looked to be Mountain Clansmen and Guards in the Checkerboard Colors of House Staunton. I snarled at that, knowing we had to hold the line for our flanking force to make it through.
"Stand Fast men! We'll beat these dogs in no time!" I called out encouragement.
Then there was no more time to do that as the wave of enemies crashed into our line of pikes. For a few, brief, moments, it looked like they would stall out, their charge bouncing against our line, only for another volley of musket fire from the treeline to ring out, punching into several dozen pikemen and allowing part of the line to be infiltrated by Mountain Clansmen led by a One-Eyed Youth. As our own Musketeers suppressed the enemy firing from the Treeline, I knew something had to be done to stop the Mountain Clansmen from getting any further.
"Halberdiers! with me!" I cried out, leading a battalion of one-hundred-fifty Halberdiers to plug the gap.
As I did so, I lashed out with my Valyrian Steel Sidesword, carving through a Mountain Clansman with a horizontal Tondo Cut, his brigandine not stopping the mystically forged metal of my blade. As he fell back, clutching his guts that were now spilling out of his stomach, I ducked an axe swing from another Mountain Clansman before pulling a dagger and coming up to thrust it under the Man's bearded chin, killing him even as I thrust out with my sidesword to punch through the throat of another Mountain Clansmen.
At my side, Clarence Waters lashed out with his Sparth Axe, hacking the legs off a Mountain Clansman before chopping into the shoulder of another, whose Chain Armor couldn't withstand such a powerful overhead blow. He was forced to parry a thrusting spear from another Mountain Clansman, slapping the spearhead out wide with the haft of his axe before ramming his Burgonet into the face of the snarling Clansman, his headbutt sending the man back to be finished off by one of the Halberdiers.
In the meantime, I cut my way through two more Mountain Clansmen with a thrust of my dagger through One's eye and a tondo cut that slashed the throat of Another. Then I found myself face to face with the One-Eyed Youth leading this group. With a snarl, the Youth snatched the Matchlock Pistol off his bandolier and fired it at me in a burst of smoke and flame. The Pistol Ball spanged off my left pauldron, denting it and bruising my collarbone, but not punching through. With a nod, the Clansman drew his hatchet and arming sword.
"I am Timett, Son of Timett of the Burned Men. When you greet your Gods, tell them that it was I who sent you." Intoned the Youth.
Then he charged, and I was forced to defend myself. . .
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Prince Perros Sarroyne looked over at his companions. Salhaador Saan, Jalhabar Xho, and Lords Mathos Boggs and Edmund Hardy. They had been leading the flanking force of seven-hundred-fifty troops through this winding, dry, riverbed for several hours now. The Dragondeath Gorge was as perilous to traverse as they had been warned of. Already, they'd lost a few dozen men to falls, stumbles, and minor rockslides.
Fortunately, the enemy had failed to notice their approach, and now they were on their final climb to the top. Of course, it had also been agreed to let Salhaador Saan send his men up first, as the Former Pirates were sneaky enough to be able to deal with any sentries that may be watching the route from the gorge to wherever their camp was. That proved to be a good idea, too because not fifteen minutes later, the Ex-Pirates, led by a Qartheen named Sallor the Dirk, returned, his namesake weapon still wet with blood.
"A dozen sentries with a similar number of runners were waiting up there. They are no more, though I suspect there's another dozen closer to their camp to hear reports from the runners." Reported Sallor.
"And did any of these runners escape?" Queried Prince Perros.
"One tried to. He did not get far. Li Shen used one of his odd-looking Yi-Tish Throwing Blades to stop him." Responded Sallor.
"And did it?" Asked Jalhabar Xho.
"I doubt it. Li Shen has taken to coating his thrown blades with poison. Tree-Frog Poison from the jungles of your home, I believe." Pointed out Salhaador Saan.
"Indeed. The Runners are all dead." Confirmed Sallor.
"In that case, I think we should be good to climb up." Nodded Lord Boggs.
"I'll send my Battalion up first. The Kerns of House Hardy are experts at hill-fighting." Offered Lord Hardy.
No one objected to that, and soon the flanking force was on the move again. It was a tough climb, but they made it to the top of the cliffside above the Dreagondeath Gorge. With that finished, the remaining men of the flanking force began to march forward, past the corpses of the sentries and their runners, along a shaded forest path that had been cut out of the woodlands. The first sight of the enemy was a dozen or so enemy Gallowglass Troops in the Purple and Black of House Langward of Beacon Tower guarding the rear approach to the enemy camp. The men of the Beacon Tower weren't expecting an attack without warning. As the flanking force charged forward, those men squawked out an alarm call and were joined by a paltry few dozen others from the camp.
As the battle was joined, Prince Perros downed two with his spear before even having to parry a return cut from a Gallowglass Sparth Axe on the haft of his spear. That third Gallowglass suddenly found a fletched shaft sprouting from his right eye as Jalhabar Xho covered for him. Nearby, Salhaador Saan downed a man with his Runic, Arsenal Steel, Cutlass, ducking under a stroke of the man's Greatsword and slicing the tendons in the side of his right knee in one smooth maneuver, before taking the Gallowsglass' throat on the backswing. Lords Hardy and Pine both carved two enemies in half with their Greatswords in arcing cuts, as another Gallowglass in Brune Colors found an arrow sticking in his throat as he rushed Salhaador Saan while the Former Pirate thrust his cutlass through the armpit of a Kern in Pyne Colors.
The Flanking Force pressed forward, only losing a dozen men wounded and killed while reaping a fearsome toll among the enemy camp. The enemy's camp guards were forced back into the poorly fortified camp even as a man in plate armor with a surcoat that had the silver stars above black waves on a field of purple on it, the Sigil of House Langward.
"It's Ser Lucos Langward! Capture him and his Mother will be forced to surrender the Beacon Tower!" Cried out Lord Hardy.
Prince Perros didn't need to be told twice, bulling forward to engage Ser Lucos Langward in single combat, Sparth Axe against Spear. He was forced to twist aside as a Kern fired an arrow at him from near Ser Lucos Langward, the arrow missing him by inches. That Kern was soon joined by a dozen others, only to have them be suppressed by arrow fire from Lord Hardy's Kerns. That left Prince Perros free to charge Ser Lucos Langward with his spear.
As he did so, Ser Lucos lashed out with his Sparth Axe in a great, sweeping, strike. Prince Perros ducked under the blow and came in with his spear, thrusting for Ser Lucos' torso. The Knight of the Beacon Tower twisted aside, the Runic, Arsenal Steel, Head of Prince Perros' spear scraping against Ser Lucos' Breastplate, drawing sparks as the mystically fortified, stronger, metal of the spearhead cut a crease in the softer, mundane, metal of the breastplate. Ser Lucos tried to bring his Sparth Axe to bear for a killing blow only for Prince Perros to strike his knee with the butt cap of his Spear.
Ser Lucos fell to the ground, footing lost from the strike to the knee. Instead, smashing the haft of his Sparth Axe into Prince Perros' stomach like a quarterstaff instead, forcing the Prince of the Isle of Women back with slightly bruised ribs. Fortunately for Prince Perros, he had long practice at fighting and was able to dodge the next swing of the Sparth Axe on instinct, leaping over the striking head to avoid having his legs cut out from under him. At the same time, he thrust out and down with his spear, striking Ser Lucos' pauldron and punching through the softer metal to would the Knight of Beacon Tower in the shoulder. Ser Lucos lost his grip on his axe from the thrust, allowing Prince Perros to land and place his spearhead right in position to plunge down into Ser Lucos' Torso.
"Yield!" Commanded Prince Perros.
Ser Lucos, seeing himself bested and his camp guards down to just over a dozen men from seventy-two, simply nodded. He ripped his helm off to reveal a man who couldn't be more than twenty-one years of age with a dark brown, drooping, mustache and brown eyes. He looked up at Prince Perros and acquiesced.
"I yield command of the Camp to you." Intoned Ser Lucos Langward.
And like that, one of the four enemy commanders of the ambush force had been captured, along with the enemy camp. Now, the flanking force had to move on. Lord Hardy organized a detail to take control of the camp while the rest of the flanking force pressed on to do the remainder of what they had been sent out to do, take the enemy's main force in the rear.
They would start with the musketeers in the treeline before moving on to crash into the rear of the enemy attack force. . .
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As I dueled with Timett, Son of Timett, I couldn't help but realize that he was faster and stronger than I was. A life of hard living in the Mountains of the Moon had forged this man into a physical dynamo that had been tempered in the fires of war. His equipment was worse than mine, though, and I was more technically skilled as a fighter.
Those two were my only saving graces as he struck out with blindingly fast and powerful strikes, forcing me to rely on economy of movement to avoid taking his hatchet or arming sword to the neck or extremities. A few times, he managed to tag me on my armor, drawing bruises and rattling my bones, but my equipment being better saved me. In response, I riposted, each time carving a bit of his armor off him or drawing minor wounds.
A mandritto cut from right to left just barely managed to graze his forehead, opening a bleeding gash that dripped down into his good eye, though he was able to back away and wipe his eye clear of blood. A rising, montante, vertical cut managed to cut open his right bicep, slowing his swordwork a bit. Meanwhile, I managed to cut his right Achilles Tendon with my dagger whilst ducking a horizontal chop from his hatchet that would have taken my head clean off, hobbling him.
That wasn't to say he didn't get his own licks in, either. My helm had been lost in the scuffle after a vicious arcing cut from his arming sword slammed into it and knocked it off my head, opening a cut on my scalp that would need to be stitched shut. A pommel strike had broken my nose and bruised my orbital bone, whilst I had taken a glancing cut to my calf that slowed me down as well and would also need to be stitched.
Both Timett and I were slowing, weakening, but only I would be walking out of this battle alive. Timett let out a roar, swinging his hatchet and arming sword in a double strike aimed at my head and neck. I dropped down to the ground, bracing myself with one hand on the bloody dirt of the road while thrusting out with my sidesword. Passata-Soto, it was called, and it worked here. His double strike sailed just a single inch above my head whilst my own Sidesword punched through his mail hauberk and speared through his heart.
Timett, Son of Timett, died by my hand, slumping to his knees in the bloody dirt of the roadside dropping his weapons whilst feebly reaching for my throat even as his heart's blood gushed out of his wounded chest. I put my boot on his torso, then wrenched my blade free in a spray of blood, and Timett, Son of Timett, collapsed to the ground, dead.
Nearby, I looked over and saw that Ser Roger Graves had finally brought up some of the cavalry to hit the enemy in the flank, while a shout rang out from the treeline, along with a scattered volley of ragged musket fire. Shortly after that, a group of panicked enemy musketeers and Mountain Clansmen began streaming out of the treeline, where many of them were picked off by our own Musketeers. They were chased by our flanking force.
Beset on three sides by enemies, the Ambushing Force began to panic. As Ser Denys Irons and Lord Mors Marshberry arrived with forces from further down the road to close the last escape route and complete our encirclement of the enemy, it seemed that Lords Cave and Pyne realized they wouldn't be fighting their way out of this. With their trap turned around on them, their camp taken, and their forces encircled, it seemed Lords Cave and Pyrn had enough.
Just an hour and a half after the ambush had begun, it ended in an overwhelming victory for our forces. We had lost some six hundred men killed or wounded, around half of whom would be able to fight again with proper care. The enemy, meanwhile, wasn't so lucky, suffering three thousand killed and wounded and the rest captured. All four of their commanders had been captured or killed as well.
We had dealt them a critical blow, and with Lords Hardy and Pyne in captivity, and Ser Langward likewise captured, the surrenders of Evermount, Highforest Hall, and Beacon Tower were assured. All that was left was to march to Dyre Den and take control of the Castle there and Cracklaw Point would be completely in Stannis' Hands. Once that was done, we would march west to Rooks Rest and deal with Lord Staunton, then link up with the forces in Duskendale to move on to King's Landing.
With any luck, the capital would be ours by the end of the month. Then we would take the War to the Lannisters directly. Hopefully, by the time two-ninety-nine was finished, we would have the War Won. Then we could re-orient North to face the White Walkers. At least, that was the plan. It would turn out that getting there would be more complicated than I imagined, unfortunately, as news coming out of the Riverlands a day after the Battle revealed that the Lannisters had finally broken out of the Western Riverlands.
Tywin Lannister would be moving to reinforce King's Landing. It was the smart play, though I wasn't certain he would be able to move through the rest of the Riverlands before Stannis reached the Capital. If I knew Tywin Lannister, though, he would have some scheme prepared to stall. I would turn out to be right on that count. We had begun bombarding the walls of Dyre Den, which had likewise been rebuilt to be stronger than they previously had been when news reached us of a potential Lannister-Mooton Alliance.
Tywin Lannister, it seemed, was willing to marry Joffrey off to Lord Mooton's Daughter to secure forces to bolster King's Landing's Garrison. If those forces reached the Capital before we did, it was possible that we wouldn't be able to take the Capital by assault before Tywin could relieve the City with his army. This just became a race.
And I would need to take Dyre Den fast to stay ahead of the clock. . .
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AN: All right, so here's the next phase of the War in Cracklaw Point. Ricasso manages to turn a trap set by the Lannister Allies around on them and inflict five times the casualties on them that they did to him. He managed to capture a trio of Lords and secure the surrender of their castles while they were in captivity and has moved on to besieging Dyre Den.
Unfortunately, with news of events going on with Tywin in the Riverlands now reaching him, he's in a race to break out of the Point before the Lannister-Mooton Alliance can be sealed and Mooton Troops can reinforce King's Landing. He'll need to deal with Dyre Den and Rooks Rest swiftly if he wants to make it to the capital before it's too late.
At any rate, the next chapter will involve the siege of Dyre Den.
Stay tuned. . .
