"Michael, what do the scouts' report?" Cosmas shouted up at the watchman on the outcropping of rock. The arid landscape spread around Cosmas, veils of sand wreathing the gentle waves of hills, like disturbed fabric. The sun shone down on the Byzantine troops, the dry wind carrying the faintest hint of the ocean.
"Three Arab battalions, cavalry by the looks of it. Coming fast in a pincer formation!" Michael called, he then raised his telescope back up to his eye.
Cosmas turned, helmet under his arm, to his small troop of Cataphracts and Effigies, signaling Ioannis to start the the engines of the great war machines. Pillars of smoke shot up into the air as the near a dozen Cataphracts, heavily armored battle walkers, came to life, steam engines rumbling, shaking the stony ground beneath Cosmas's feet; the sun shining of their golden plating. The Effigies, mechanical, steam-powered animals; lions and bulls mostly, prowled and huffed at the ground, while the infantry men, clad in their cuirass and spathions at their sides. A dark smudge appeared on the horizon, a great plume of dust behind them, racing steadily toward them. Ioannis's called from the view port of his Cataphract.
"When shall we fire, Captain?"
Cosmas looked at the advancing army and the closing distance between them; "Once they reach those rocks, unleash a volley." he gestured with his free hand at the pile stones, Ioannis nodded and spread the word among the men.
Cosmas placed his steel cap on his head, shouldered his ballista, and descended the hillock, down to take his position in the back with the infantry; a wall of golden steel protecting them from any arrows from the Muslims. Cosmas was joined by Ignatios, his second in command, who was shoving the second bit of cork in his ears. Cosmas did the the same, the pieces of cork protecting the soldiers' ears from the initial bombard of the Cataphracts' cannons. The Arabs could be seen by the naked eye now; rushing towards them, scimitars flashing, wearing their robes and turbans, their war cries carrying across the desert waste. The first camel archers reached the pile of rock, a few arrows pinging off the flanks of the Byzantine war machines. Ioannis looked back at Cosmas, who nodded. The columns of smoke burst from the smokestacks as the engines revved harder, the guns of the Cataphracts raised up with the hiss of steam and hydraulic pistons; the barrels of steel leveling out, aimed at the enemy cavalry. There was a few seconds of stillness; the wind blew, the Arabs charged forward. Then the guns fired. With a thunder that shook the earth, Cosmas and his soldiers had to steady themselves; the very air destroyed by the explosions of the cannons, great fiery clouds erupting from the cannons. The legs of the walkers trembled, the array of pistons absorbing the shock of the blasts. The three thousand Arabs disappeared in bursts of sand and fire as the great metal shells hit the loose earth; men and camels hurled into the air or simply destroyed by it's power. The initial bombard ceased; the crews reloading the guns, Cosmas signaled the Toxotai to ready their ballistas, so as to pick off any Arab who escaped the firing range of the machines. Another volley of explosions rippled down the line of Cataphracts; more Arabs fell to the crimson sand, the very earth blown out from under them. Cosmas turned his eyes away from the slaughter, these bombards always bothered him and the great destruction they caused, even when they killed followers of Mohammed. Toxotai's ballistas cracked, smoke spewing from their barrels, small, sharpened pieces of metal flying from them, into camel warriors who had avoided the shells. At last Cosmas raised his hand, signaling an end to the carnage. The guns stopped, gray wisps drifting from the barrels. The soldiers removed their corks, ears ringing in the silence after the battle. A couple dozen Arabs retreated, fleeing as far from the guns as they could, leaving their wounded and dying comrades in the sand. Cosmas strode forward, Ignatios following behind, and stood in front of the Cataphracts.
"Warriors of Arabia, do you surrender to us?" Cosmas hailed them.
A voice shouted something in Arabic, Cosmas turned to Michael, who had joined him from the hill.
"They so indeed surrender and only wish to take their dead and wounded in peace." Michael said to his captain.
"Certainly, they may take their men and depart in peace."
Michael shouted across the wastes at the Arabs, translating what Cosmas had said. The Arabs dismounted, moving hesitantly forward over the sands, fearful of the guns. The Cataphracts didn't move, the smoke rising idly into the summer sky as the Muslims gathered their fallen, which were many, as the Byzantines looked on. Cosmas turned to his men.
"Louke, fetch me a courier bird, I want to tell Strategos Isaac the border is safe as soon as possible. Then start back to Constantinople."
The men cheered at the sound of home, life in the in Syria was rough, even with the Byzantine technologies. A bath, real food, and a bed sounded quite right now. Loukos ran to where the pigeons were kept, the smart birds waited patiently for their next task. Cosmas soon had one perched eagerly on his greave; he slipped the message in the bird's holster.
"Bring this to Strategos Isaac in Antioch. Fly fast." he ordered the bird. The pigeon cocked it's head, then shot up into the air, and away. Cosmas climbed inside his own Cataphract, a faster, lighter variety used more for transport than front-line combat, Ignatios already at the controls, hands working the levers and valves.
"Head for Damascus, we'll resupply there, then onto Antioch and home." Cosmas said to his friend as he took of his helmet. Ignatios nodded, pulling levers and turning crancks.
With a swoosh of air and steam, the whole company of war machines turned, and marched with metal legs, to Damascus.
"Three Arab battalions, cavalry by the looks of it. Coming fast in a pincer formation!" Michael called, he then raised his telescope back up to his eye.
Cosmas turned, helmet under his arm, to his small troop of Cataphracts and Effigies, signaling Ioannis to start the the engines of the great war machines. Pillars of smoke shot up into the air as the near a dozen Cataphracts, heavily armored battle walkers, came to life, steam engines rumbling, shaking the stony ground beneath Cosmas's feet; the sun shining of their golden plating. The Effigies, mechanical, steam-powered animals; lions and bulls mostly, prowled and huffed at the ground, while the infantry men, clad in their cuirass and spathions at their sides. A dark smudge appeared on the horizon, a great plume of dust behind them, racing steadily toward them. Ioannis's called from the view port of his Cataphract.
"When shall we fire, Captain?"
Cosmas looked at the advancing army and the closing distance between them; "Once they reach those rocks, unleash a volley." he gestured with his free hand at the pile stones, Ioannis nodded and spread the word among the men.
Cosmas placed his steel cap on his head, shouldered his ballista, and descended the hillock, down to take his position in the back with the infantry; a wall of golden steel protecting them from any arrows from the Muslims. Cosmas was joined by Ignatios, his second in command, who was shoving the second bit of cork in his ears. Cosmas did the the same, the pieces of cork protecting the soldiers' ears from the initial bombard of the Cataphracts' cannons. The Arabs could be seen by the naked eye now; rushing towards them, scimitars flashing, wearing their robes and turbans, their war cries carrying across the desert waste. The first camel archers reached the pile of rock, a few arrows pinging off the flanks of the Byzantine war machines. Ioannis looked back at Cosmas, who nodded. The columns of smoke burst from the smokestacks as the engines revved harder, the guns of the Cataphracts raised up with the hiss of steam and hydraulic pistons; the barrels of steel leveling out, aimed at the enemy cavalry. There was a few seconds of stillness; the wind blew, the Arabs charged forward. Then the guns fired. With a thunder that shook the earth, Cosmas and his soldiers had to steady themselves; the very air destroyed by the explosions of the cannons, great fiery clouds erupting from the cannons. The legs of the walkers trembled, the array of pistons absorbing the shock of the blasts. The three thousand Arabs disappeared in bursts of sand and fire as the great metal shells hit the loose earth; men and camels hurled into the air or simply destroyed by it's power. The initial bombard ceased; the crews reloading the guns, Cosmas signaled the Toxotai to ready their ballistas, so as to pick off any Arab who escaped the firing range of the machines. Another volley of explosions rippled down the line of Cataphracts; more Arabs fell to the crimson sand, the very earth blown out from under them. Cosmas turned his eyes away from the slaughter, these bombards always bothered him and the great destruction they caused, even when they killed followers of Mohammed. Toxotai's ballistas cracked, smoke spewing from their barrels, small, sharpened pieces of metal flying from them, into camel warriors who had avoided the shells. At last Cosmas raised his hand, signaling an end to the carnage. The guns stopped, gray wisps drifting from the barrels. The soldiers removed their corks, ears ringing in the silence after the battle. A couple dozen Arabs retreated, fleeing as far from the guns as they could, leaving their wounded and dying comrades in the sand. Cosmas strode forward, Ignatios following behind, and stood in front of the Cataphracts.
"Warriors of Arabia, do you surrender to us?" Cosmas hailed them.
A voice shouted something in Arabic, Cosmas turned to Michael, who had joined him from the hill.
"They so indeed surrender and only wish to take their dead and wounded in peace." Michael said to his captain.
"Certainly, they may take their men and depart in peace."
Michael shouted across the wastes at the Arabs, translating what Cosmas had said. The Arabs dismounted, moving hesitantly forward over the sands, fearful of the guns. The Cataphracts didn't move, the smoke rising idly into the summer sky as the Muslims gathered their fallen, which were many, as the Byzantines looked on. Cosmas turned to his men.
"Louke, fetch me a courier bird, I want to tell Strategos Isaac the border is safe as soon as possible. Then start back to Constantinople."
The men cheered at the sound of home, life in the in Syria was rough, even with the Byzantine technologies. A bath, real food, and a bed sounded quite right now. Loukos ran to where the pigeons were kept, the smart birds waited patiently for their next task. Cosmas soon had one perched eagerly on his greave; he slipped the message in the bird's holster.
"Bring this to Strategos Isaac in Antioch. Fly fast." he ordered the bird. The pigeon cocked it's head, then shot up into the air, and away. Cosmas climbed inside his own Cataphract, a faster, lighter variety used more for transport than front-line combat, Ignatios already at the controls, hands working the levers and valves.
"Head for Damascus, we'll resupply there, then onto Antioch and home." Cosmas said to his friend as he took of his helmet. Ignatios nodded, pulling levers and turning crancks.
With a swoosh of air and steam, the whole company of war machines turned, and marched with metal legs, to Damascus.
No comments:
Post a Comment