A Charge of Valor. Morgan Rice
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“I say we surrender,” said the Duke’s advisor, a grizzled old warrior who sat slumped over a long, rectangular wooden table, lost in a mug of ale, slamming his metal gauntlet on the wood. All the other soldiers quieted and looked to him.
“What choice do we have?” he added. “It is but a few hundred of us against a million of them.”
“Perhaps we can defend, at least hold the city,” said another soldier.
“But for how long?” asked another.
“Long enough for MacGil to send reinforcements, if we can hold out long enough.”
“MacGil is dead,” another warrior answered. “No one is coming to help us.”
“But his daughter lives,” another countered. “As do his men. They would not abandon us here!”
“They can barely defend themselves!” another protested.
The men broke out into agitated mumbling, all arguing with each other, speaking over each other, going around and around in circles.
Erec sat there, watching it all, and feeling hollowed out. A messenger had arrived but hours ago and had delivered the dreadful news of Andronicus’ invasion – and also, for Erec, the even worse news, just reaching him now, that MacGil had been assassinated. Erec had been so far away from King’s Court for so long, it was the first time he had received the news – and when he had, he felt as if a dagger had been plunged into his heart. He had loved MacGil as a father, and the loss left him feeling more empty than he could say.
The room grew quiet as the Duke cleared his throat and all eyes turned to him.
“We can defend our city against an attack,” the Duke said slowly. “With our skills and the strength of these walls, we can hold it against an army even five times our numbers – perhaps an army even ten times our numbers. And we have enough provisions to withhold a siege for weeks. Against any regular army, we would win.”
He sighed.
“But the Empire boasts no regular army,” he added. “We cannot defend against one million men. It would be futile.”
He paused.
“But so would surrender. We all know what Andronicus does to his captors. It appears to me that we will all die either away. The question is whether we die on our feet or die on our backs. I say, we die on our feet!”
The room erupted into a cheer of approval. Erec couldn’t agree more.
“Then we have no other course of action left,” the Duke continued. “We will defend Savaria. We will never surrender. We may die, but we will all die together.”
The room fell into a heavy silence as the others gravely nodded to each other. It seemed as if they were all searching for another answer.
“There is one other way,” Erec said finally, speaking up.
He could feel all eyes turn and stare at him.
The Duke nodded his way, for him to speak.
“We can attack,” Erec said.
“Attack?” the soldiers called out in surprise. “The few hundred of us, attacking one million men? Erec, I know you are fearless. But are you mad?”
Erec shook his head, deadly serious.
“What you fail to consider is that Andronicus’ men would never expect an attack. We would gain the element of surprise. As you say, sitting here, defending, we will die. If we attack, we can take out a lot more of them; more importantly, if we attack in the right way, and at the right place, we might do more than just hold them back – we might actually win.”
“Win?!” they all called out, looking at Erec, completely bewildered.
“What do you mean?” asked the Duke.
“Andronicus will expect us to be here, to sit back and defend our city,” Erec explained. “His men will never expect us to be holding a random chokepoint outside our city’s gates. Here in the city, we have an advantage of strong walls – but out there, in the field, we have the advantage of surprise. And surprise is always greater than strength. If we can hold a natural chokepoint, we can funnel them all to one spot, and from there we can attack. I speak of the Eastern Gulch.”
“The Eastern Gulch?” a soldier asked.
Erec nodded.
“It is a steep crevice between two cliffs, the only pass-through in the Kavonia Mountains, a good day’s ride from here. If Andronicus’ men come to us, the most direct way will be through the Gulch. Otherwise, they will have to scale the mountains. The road from the north is too narrow and too muddy this time of year – he would lose weeks. And from the south he would have to breach the Fjord River.”
The Duke look admiringly at Erec, rubbing his beard, thinking.
“You may be right. Andronicus may just lead his men through the gulch. For any other army it would be an act of supreme hubris. But for him, with his million men, he might just do it.”
Erec nodded.
“If we can get there, if we can beat them to it, we can surprise them, ambush them. With a position like that, a few can hold back thousands.”
All the other soldiers looked at Erec with something like hope and awe, as the room was blanketed with a thick silence.
“A bold plan, my friend,” the Duke said. “But then again, you are a bold warrior. You always have been” The Duke gestured to an attendant. “Bring me a map!”
A boy ran from the room and came back through another door holding a large scroll of parchment. He rolled it out on the table, and the soldiers gathered around, studying it.
Erec reached out and found Savaria on the map and traced a line with his finger, east, stopping at the Eastern Gulch. A narrow crevice, it sat surrounded by mountains as far as the eye could see.
“It is perfect,” a soldier said.
The others nodded, rubbing their beards.
“I have heard stories of a few dozen men holding off thousands at the gulch,” one soldier said.
“That is an old wives’ tale,” another soldier said, cynically. “Yes, we will have the element of surprise. But what else? We will not have the protection of our walls.”
“We will have the protection of nature’s walls,” another soldier countered. “Those mountains, hundreds of feet of solid cliff.”
“Nothing is safe,” Erec added. “As the Duke said, we die here, or we die out there. I say we die out there. Victory favors the bold.”
The Duke, after a long time rubbing his beard, finally