Chapter 396: Chapter 43: The Carriage Formation_2
The Herder cavalry were indeed few in number, but the disorganized spearmen and musketeers were unable to protect each other’s backs and flanks, facing the cavalry was almost a one-sided slaughter.
“This won’t do,” Winters approached the lieutenant colonel, “I’ll take some men to charge.”
Jeska understood what Winters meant; at this rate, they simply couldn’t rally many troops.
A stalemate was no solution either; they needed to defend and counterattack. The hastily assembled wagon fort, lacking any supplies or reserves, was sure to break first.
The one-eyed lieutenant colonel gave the second lieutenant a deep look and nodded, “Don’t charge too far, come back when you hear the signal shot.”
Winters grabbed a long spear and leaped onto the saddle.
Looking at the faces of the twenty or so Dusack in the wagon fort, he instructed as calmly as possible, “Don’t be scared, follow me.”
The spearmen made way, and the cavalry charged out of the wagon fort with a roar. Behind them, thick smoke billowed into the sky.
Catching sight of the Paratu people’s proactive attack, a Herder cavalryman blew the horn.
The Herder people prowling between the wagons withdrew at once, deliberately avoiding direct combat.
Since everyone was on horseback, no one could easily catch up with anyone else.
The Herders’ advantage in mounted archery became apparent as they maintained a delicate distance and twisted around to shoot arrows.
Arrows whizzed past the Paratu cavalry, who tried to stay as low as possible. The accuracy of horseback archery wasn’t great, but no one wanted to gamble with their lives on luck.
Winters’ goal was not to annihilate the enemy; driving them off and covering the Paratu people back into the wagon fort was enough.
At that moment, what worried him most was the situation with Bard and Andre:
Andre had gone to trade with the Shepherds and hadn’t been heard from since,
While Bard, leading the gathering team, was cleaning up at the rear of the caravan—this included those merchants and speculators seeking protection, and he only had a few soldiers by his side.
Winters was eager to fight his way to the end of the caravan to confirm Bard’s safety.
But after running only a few hundred meters, he heard three gunshots coming from the direction of the wagon fort, the agreed-upon signal.
Winters gritted his teeth and yanked the reins, his horse rearing with a powerful neigh, “Retreat!”
The Paratu cavalry turned around and headed back toward the wagon fort on the same path, with the pursuing Herder people turning around to follow as well.
From the west came the rolling sound of hoofbeats: another group of Herder cavalry had emerged from the gully to the west, over forty strong, their blades aimed directly at the Paratu front line.
But unexpectedly, they found no panicked farmers, only a large circular formation of wagons all around.
This was supposed to be a coordinated attack, but with poor coordination, it afforded the Paratu people a glimmer of hope.
The Herder people from the west were not mentally prepared to attack a strong fortification and hesitated for a moment, stopping far away at a hundred meters out.
The Herder people from the east circled around the wagon fort, the two groups of Herder cavalry converging.
Winters climbed onto a wagon and counted carefully: nearly sixty riders, some in studded armor, the rest only with iron helmets and leather jackets.
By rough estimate, more than half of the Herder cavalry who had initiated the attack were here; Bard’s side might have an easier time.
“A company of a hundred?” Lieutenant Colonel Jeska muttered to herself and ordered with a wave of her hand, “Get the musketeers onto the wagons.”
The Paratu people hastened to unload the wagons, stacking their baggage between the vehicles as barricades, while the musketeers, carrying their matchlock guns, scrambled into the carts.
“Load your ammunition! Stick your chin to the gunstock and aim!” Winters shouted his command, “On my order, and if anyone dares to fire out of turn, I’ll kill them myself!”
Suddenly, the distant Herder cavalry began to move. With unfamiliar shouts, the Herders charged towards the wagon fort, bloodthirsty.
The momentum of six hundred infantry charging couldn’t match that of sixty cavalry.
In ancient times, a heavy cavalry charge could decide the direction of a battle. Sometimes, well before blood was shed, the mere psychological oppression was enough to collapse a less steadfast line.
Accompanied by a thunderous boom, the terrifying mass of eight hundred pounds bore down—no one was unafraid.
At sixty meters, the militiamen’s legs trembled uncontrollably as they shook.
“Hold steady!” Winters roared using a spell of amplification, “Hands off the firing lever, wait for my command!” The magically augmented shout actually managed to overshadow the sound of horse hooves. ᴛhis chapter is ᴜpdated by ɴovelfire.net
Fifty meters, the ground itself seemed to tremble with the trampling of horse hooves.
“Hold the line!” Lieutenant Colonel Jeska, her saber still not dry of blood, commanded, “Whoever runs, I’ll kill him!”
At forty meters, Winters could make out the Herders’ beards and feathers.
At thirty meters, the Herders turned.
Rather than crashing headlong into the wagon fort as everyone expected, the Herder cavalry adjusted their direction at the last moment, starting to circle around the fortification.
A sigh of relief rose between the wagons.
A javelin flew over Winters’ head and into the wagon fort, piercing the thigh of a wagon driver.
Amid the screams, more javelins and arrows were continuously shot at the Paratu people. They lacked accuracy, but still forced the crowd to dodge in panic.
“Hahaha, is that all?” Lieutenant Colonel Jeska practically sneered, “Lieutenant! Fire a volley and draw them in!”
“Ready!” Winters didn’t understand the order, but he complied, “Fire!”
After the thunder and gunsmoke dispersed, four or five Herder cavalrymen fell from their horses, their fate unknown.
The remaining Herder cavalry immediately charged at the wagon fort, not against the spearmen at the open ends to the east and west but leaping their horses through the gaps between the wagons.
“Don’t be afraid!” Winters yelled, “Reload!”
The musketeers on the wagons shakily reloaded their guns, as a young man beside Winters cried while pouring gunpowder into the barrel.
The soldiers who had discarded their gear and fled earlier were now of no use; they were already terrified and desperately seeking cover behind others or crawling under the wagons.