The Vampire & Her Witch

Perhaps Virve could sense the gloom hanging over Ashlynn when she delivered her report. Perhaps that was why, as soon as she mentioned that there had been losses, she quickly mentioned that there had also been a unique success. But Ashlynn was unwilling to indulge herself in the opportunity to ignore pain by searching for joy.

”Start with the losses,” she said as she swallowed heavily, wishing that her stomach would unknot itself and the feeling of impending dread would go back to whatever hole it had crawled out from. ”How bad was it?”

”The worst losses came from the gladiators who followed Lady Heila,” Virve said with a disparaging snort. She’d never approved of them as ’warriors’ from the day Jacques had taken Heila to watch him fight an exhibition match in an arena that allowed wealthy patrons to select their own opponents. She had gained a small measure of respect for them after watching Heila’s matches in the larger arena, but she still looked down on the people who treated combat as a sport.

”Some of them understand heavy armor and are accustomed to fighting in it,” Virve explained. ”For others, people who fought shirtless to display their physiques to the crowd or with minimal armor to increase their glory as ’fearless’ champions, we offered to equip them the same way our own soldiers are equipped.”

”I remember,” Ashlynn said as she made another attempt to eat her cold porridge. Unfortunately, cooling had only made it thicker and less palatable, and she gave up before her spoon had made it half way to her mouth. ”We spent a considerable sum in High Fen City to have armorers produce equipment for them. I take it that the lack of familiarity contributed to their problems?”

When Thane started teaching her how to fight with a sword, she’d worn armor out of a necessity to protect herself during their aggressive sparring sessions. It had also helped to strengthen her body during her blossoming period as she labored under the weight of tens of pounds of quilted fabric and heavy chainmail.

Ashlynn knew that fighting in armor was a skill of its own, and that it took time to gain proficiency with the heavier forms of armor that knights wore. That was part of the reason why she only invested in high quality, quilted gambesons for most soldiers. The armor would cushion blows from clubs and maces even if it couldn’t prevent bruises and cracked or broken bones. It could also stop light cuts and would provide a measure of protection against arrows fired from a distance.

Combined with a sturdy helm and armored gauntlets to protect the hands, her soldiers wouldn’t be invulnerable by any means, but it would make them significantly more difficult to seriously injure. But had she been wrong about how easy it would be to adapt to light armor? Was even that too much for the irregular fighters to master quickly?

”Worse than lack of familiarity,” Virve said with a dark scowl. ”Some of them left their armor behind entirely. Others wore only some of it. Of the eighty men who participated in this morning’s raids, fourteen are dead, nine among the gladiators and five of the woodsmen or hunters who joined Commander Tausau’s Third Army of irregular fighters.”

The losses were staggering. Nearly one in five men had died in what should have been the easiest, safest battles of the entire war. They were striking at a completely unprepared enemy with overwhelming advantages... and they’d still suffered heavy losses.

Clutching her spoon firmly enough that the wood began to crack, Ashlynn took a deep breath and forcefully reminded herself that she had discussed this with both Nyrielle and Thane. These were ’safe’ engagements, but they were also their least experienced warriors. The gladiators were better than the hunters in many ways, but they still lacked many of the skills a soldier relied on to survive combat in the frequently chaotic maelstrom of war.

Thane had estimated that they would lose as many as half of the irregulars over the course of the war. The survivors of the first several battles would quickly become veterans and losses would diminish rapidly, but the initial battles could prove... Expensive was the word Thane had used, but Ashlynn wondered if a better word was ’cruel.’

Cruel to throw irregular fighters into the heat of war without giving them the winter to train. Cruel because she didn’t want to wait out the winter... because she couldn’t wait any longer.

”How many of those losses can be attributed to arrogance?” Ashlynn asked as she closed her eyes and tried to keep herself composed. But as much as she tried, she couldn’t keep a trace of cold fury out of her voice as she continued to speak.

”How many of these gladiators tried to fight individual duels for their honor and glory? How many left helms behind so the ’crowd’ could see their faces?” Ashlynn said hotly. ”And how many of their fellows died or suffered injuries because they couldn’t trust their comrades to hold the line instead of seeking glory?”

”We don’t know for sure,” Virve said. ”The reports from the captains are inconsistent. Some mention how their men died, others only name the deceased. But of the ones we know about, half died in ways that following orders and wearing their armor would have prevented.”

”Tell Commander Tausau to pass orders to his men when the sun sets,” Ashlynn said as she turned her gaze to look out the southeast-facing windows, looking in the direction of Hanrahan Barony. ”The Mongrel Horde can stay in the field, but I want them to double up and attack half as many targets.”

They had originally planned to rush from one side of Dunn Barony to the other, attacking as many targets as they could in the first two nights before vanishing for a few days. They wanted to provoke the Dunns into raising the alarm but when they looked for enemies to hunt, Ashlynn wanted them to find nothing but mist.

Now, however, she was willing to give up some of the gains from casting a broader net if it meant that she could preserve more of her forces for the days to come. Even though the Mongrel Horde hadn’t failed yet, she didn’t want to see them become drunk on their own initial success and make mistakes on the second night.

”As to the men in Hanrahan Barony, bring them all home,” Ashlynn said, lowering her brows and clenching the wooden spoon in her hand firmly enough that it snapped in two. The feeling of splintered wood biting into her hand jolted her out of the inward spiral that had begun to consume her thoughts but when she next spoke, her voice was still heavy with disapproval.