Chapter 57: Fighter
At a distance of [-] steps, two vastly different primitive armies were gradually closing in on each other, their approach painstakingly slow.
The three horned deer Chen Jian had captured revealed a great deal about his enemy. For instance, they couldn't charge while mounted; their deer were only for tactical maneuvers. During battle, they would have to dismount and fight as infantry. They also lacked short recurve bows, making it impossible to shoot from the saddle. A one-piece longbow, if made short enough to use while mounted, would be too weak to be effective.
The enemy's organization couldn't support the flanking tactics he had worried about. A small flanking force would be meaningless, while a large one would leave their main front—their home ground, which they couldn't afford to abandon—dangerously exposed.
So he wasn't worried about clever tricks like an attack from the rear. He simply beat the drum in a steady rhythm, advancing slowly with his troops.
More than 30 shock troops, axemen wearing double-layer wicker armor, followed the main formation, keeping a distance of [-] steps from the front line.
When they closed to about 120 steps, they entered the extreme range for volleying arrows. The servant army on the right wing was already out of sync with the main formation, having crept slightly ahead.
Badger drew his bow, braced himself, and fired the first arrow. His clansmen followed his lead and began volleying their own shots.
More than 100 archers, none of them professionally trained, loosed their arrows at varying angles, resulting in a scattered and uneven volley.
By the time they fell, the arrows had lost most of their power; they could only cause real damage with a lucky shot to an eye. The wicker armor, while unable to stop a direct shot at close range, easily deflected the arrows that had lost their momentum. A few pierced the armor, but not deeply enough to wound.
Chen Jian's force was momentarily flustered by the enemy's arrows, but they gradually calmed down after the first volley passed.
Chen Jian did not allow his own archers to return fire, ordering them to hold their positions and wait until they were within forty or fifty steps.
Hua and three other clansmen stood beside Chen Jian, holding wicker shields to protect the war drum. Chen Jian had kept them off the front line, fearing their hatred would cause them to charge recklessly and break the formation.
The drum beat on. After they advanced another thirteen steps, the enemy fired a second volley. This time, two arrows pierced the wicker shield Hua was holding.
In the distance, Badger pointed at the source of the drumming. "Shoot there!" he shouted to his tribe.
He hated the sound of the drum. Combined with the sight of the slowly advancing line, it was suffocating. His order ensured the second volley of arrows was concentrated in that direction.
Chen Jian forced himself not to look at the arrows arcing through the sky, reminding himself that they were still too far away to be accurate. *This is my first battle*, he thought, *but there will be countless more. I have to conquer this fear.*
He was different from his clansmen. They had courage in spades, forged by a constant struggle with nature. They weren't like the bloodless conscripts from the feudal eras of his past life. To them, the enemy was just another predator—a wolf, bear, or tiger that happened to walk on two legs.
The only thing separating his clansmen from the servant army on the right wing was a sliver of discipline. Now, at a distance of less than a hundred steps, that discipline was failing. The servant army ignored the drums, their archers breaking ranks to loose their own arrows at the enemy.
They knew their shots would likely miss from such a distance, but firing back made them feel better. At least they weren't lambs passively waiting for the slaughter. Whether the arrows hit or not was less important than the act of fighting back.
They had already pushed six or seven steps ahead of the main line, and their warriors holding stone spears and axes were visibly agitated.
The servant army's forward drift began to pull at Chen Jian's own right flank. The squad leader on the far right was clearly moving faster than the drum's rhythm.
Chen Jian hurried to the junction between the two forces. He ordered the man to hold his position and stay aligned with Acorn's squad on the riverbank.
The left wing, anchored by the natural barrier of the riverbank and untroubled by the servant army's commotion, maintained its original, steady pace.
Chen Jian had no choice but to position himself near the volatile junction, using his voice and the beat of the drum to calm the clansmen on his right flank.
After a brief pause to redress the line, the enemy loosed another volley. This time, there were casualties. Six arrows struck the servant army, and two of his own men were hit in the arm.
"Keep moving!"
The drum sounded again. The men who had been shot pulled the arrows from their arms, and, grimacing through the pain and fear, continued to advance.
With the enemy directly ahead, his clansmen were not as panicked as the servant army. They were surrounded by kin, which gave them a sense of security. The slow, deliberate pace, however, was agonizing. The urge to break into a full charge was a burning impulse, barely held in check by three months of disciplined training.
But while his men could suppress the impulse, the auxiliaries on the right could not.
The sound of the war drum meant nothing to them. All they knew was that they were advancing at a crawl while the enemy's arrows rained down.
A man was struck by an arrow and screamed. His cry was the spark that ignited their suppressed fear and frustration into a full-blown panic.
Someone shouted a war cry. Then one man broke from the line, charging forward with a stone axe. The rest immediately followed, screaming.
All they wanted was to close with the enemy. They would rather die under a stone axe than be picked off like prey from a distance.
Eighty steps! Chen Jian gauged the distance. A charge from this far out was pointless, but the servant army was beyond his command. Their panicked rush was now dragging his own men forward, their pace quickening.
He couldn't let his own line fall into chaos; it was better to be slow than disorderly. Though the line had surged forward only seven or eight steps, he began beating a rapid rhythm on the drum to halt them, roaring, "Don't rush! Slow down! Slow down!"
But the squad leader on the right didn't listen. Chen Jian drew the cane from his belt and struck the man hard across the face.
"Do you want to be exiled from the tribe?!"
The burning pain snapped the man back to his senses. He remembered what Chen Jian had declared before the battle: the penalty for disobeying a direct order on the battlefield was exile. Everyone had agreed to it.
The discipline instilled over the last three months, combined with the fear of exile, finally took hold. The squad leader re-formed his line. Chen Jian called over two five-man squads from the second rank to reinforce the right flank. By now, the charging servants were already twenty or thirty steps ahead of them.
Badger's keen hunter's eye noted the commotion. The disorganized men rushing forward were like fawns separated from the herd.
But this wasn't a hunt for a stray fawn. His target was the lead stag—the one beating the drum. If he could kill him, he was certain the rest of the herd would panic.
Opportunities were fleeting, and this was one. Chen Jian's right flank was now exposed. If he could just circle around to that side, the slow-moving shield wall would collapse into chaos. With his superior numbers, victory would be assured.
"Drop your bows! Pick up your axes!"
Badger's men immediately grabbed their stone spears and axes. He split off a force of more than 40 men and shouted, "Engage those disorganized ones!"
The panicked servant army numbered between 80 and [-] warriors. He didn't expect his men to wipe them out, only to buy him time.
With his remaining 60 warriors, he would shatter the disciplined line of his main enemy, then turn back to finish off the rest. He paid the panicked herd no mind.
The 40-plus warriors charged the chaotic mob of servants, meeting them in a disorganized clash more than 20 steps away from Badger's main force. They fought with the ferocity they usually reserved for tigers and leopards.
Badger gripped his stone axe tightly and led the rest of his warriors in a charge toward Chen Jian's right flank. A gap had opened there. He faced only a hundred of the slow-moving spearmen, and he was filled with confidence.
"Charge!"
With a cry, he led his men past the edge of the chaotic melee and charged straight for the exposed flank.
His plan seemed perfect. He would lead his clansmen in an attack on Chen Jian's right flank. The slow-moving shield wall would be difficult to break head-on, but a strike to their side would throw them into disarray, making them no different from any other disorganized mob.
But as he charged, he realized it wasn't so simple. After advancing a dozen steps, his own line had become a scattered mess. Only about 50 men followed him closely; the others had drifted toward the main enemy front.
He wanted to shout for his men to regroup on him, but his voice was lost in the din of battle. The warriors charging wildly ahead couldn't hear him.
He glanced at the men still with him, then fixed his eyes on Chen Jian, who was still beating the drum in the distance, directing his forces. Badger clenched his teeth.
*This is enough men*, he thought. *As long as Jian is killed, the rest will fall apart!*
He was the best hunter in his tribe; no one could match him. Once he sowed chaos in their ranks, he was certain he could kill the man with the drum.
Ignoring his scattered warriors, he pressed the charge toward Chen Jian's right flank with the 50-odd men who remained with him.
The two five-man squads Chen Jian had moved were now positioned on the far right. Hearing the drum, all the clansmen held their ground, bracing for the impact. Within each squad, two axemen with wicker shields stood behind the spearmen, ready to defend the flanks and rear.
Song, leading the 30 shock troops, moved up from the rear and called out to Chen Jian. Chen Jian roared back, "Listen to the drums! Don't move! Anyone who moves without orders will be exiled!"
The archers who had been forbidden to fire finally got their chance. Wolf Skin had patiently waited until the enemy was within forty or fifty steps. Now, fifteen archers drew their arrows and took aim at the roaring attackers.
The screaming, open-mouthed figures of the enemy grew larger in their sights. When the charge reached forty steps, fifteen arrows flew as one. Eleven men fell.
By the time they nocked their second arrows, the enemy was within ten steps. But with a wall of allied spearmen in front of them, the archers were calm, and they loosed another volley.
From ten steps away, Wolf Skin aimed at the most formidable-looking warrior—the one whose stone axe was bigger than the others, who looked even stronger than himself.
A single light arrow struck him in the throat. A spray of blood erupted. Inertia carried his body forward until he collapsed, eyes wide with shock, just half a step from the tips of the waiting spears.
Boom...
The scattered charge crashed against the wall of stone spears. Some tried to slip through the gaps, but the spaces were only half a spear's length wide, and axemen were waiting in those gaps to meet them.
On the riverbank, Acorn's squad killed the single man who charged them. With five men working together, it was an easy kill.
He glanced to his right. The further down the line, the more enemies there were. His squad had faced only one attacker, but the far right flank was already descending into chaos.
The men in his squad asked him what to do. They weren't allowed to break formation without the drum's command, but there was no one left in front of them to fight.
Violating the drum's command meant punishment: carrying stones, a beating with a cane, or even exile. Everyone had agreed to these terms. The discipline drilled into them for the past three months now left them uncertain, hesitant to act on their own.
The archers had already dropped their bows and drawn the stone axes from their belts, joining the fray. The squads on the far right had been forced into a defensive arc, surrounded by two or three times their number.
Acorn stared toward Chen Jian, who was now surrounded by his guards, desperately hoping to hear a new command from the drum that would tell him what to do.
Should they move to the right? Or hold their ground? Should they advance slowly, keeping formation? Or break ranks and charge? Jian had never told them what to do in a situation like this!
He stared in a daze at the desperate battle on the right, then looked back at Song and the reserves thirty steps behind the line. He slapped his wicker armor in frustration and growled, "What are you waiting for?"
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