Well, having been forbidden to post my weak subject (the sex scene) I choose instead to post my weak subject (the battle).
This is well on into the story, which is in the collaborative universe (see workshop), so you already know the characters. (Well, Hilarious Joke does, but you would if you'd got to this point in the story by the conventional route)
Any comments welcome, though 'too many semicolons' is probably not worthwhile (unless somebody feels like telling me which compound sentences should be cut down to simple ones.
I'm afraid it's a bit long, but that's true of everything in this story.
“Horseman ahead.” This was not that rare close to the capital, but even so the beasts were expensive enough to make it worth mentioning.
“Could I use the roof of your vehicle, captain?”
“Indeed you may, would you like us to slow down?”
The horseman didn’t even bother to answer, merely stood up in his saddle, grabbed the roof-rack and swung himself up. Missing fuel tanks had been replaced by bolts of silk, cases and trunks, so he got even more height but an uneven footing. The binoculars he drew out were communications issue; twice the weight of the foreigners’, but he knew them better. The strange platform swayed, but didn’t jolt too much, and he could see the ambush prepared ahead of them. This meant they could see him seeing them, unfortunately, but it couldn’t be avoided.
“They’re dressed like brigands, but I don’t think even a peasant would be fooled. Fifty brigands this close to the capital, with horses like that and two field pieces? Even if they wiped us out the Kahn would know, and take action. And the fat one on the oversized horse; if that’s not the Kahn’s brother Takomiten I’m going to trade in these glasses for a desk job”
“Which means the Kahn’s at risk; we need to send back a couple of your best riders to warn him.”
“Splitting your forces, you’re as confident as that? We’re not at sea now, you know; a force that size can wipe you out, however good you are. Wouldn’t it be better if we all turned back?”
“Leaving a force that size coming up behind us? I don’t like it at all. Besides, they’ll be expecting us to run, so they’ll start moving out of their protection straight away, which will mean they’ll be easier to take out.”
“You’re serious about that, aren’t you? We’re twelve, and your proposing to send two back, not for reinforcements but to warn the Kahn. Then there’s the six of you, including Junko and the interpreter, who I don’t expect to be well versed in fighting, plus the perfumer and the Prince, who are more liabilities than support.
They’ve got fifty men and two light cannons. They’re heavy cavalry, which means muskets, lances and half armour, while we make do with pistol and sabre.” The vehicle had drawn to a halt, and occupants were changing places. Junko had pulled on a strange, lumpy jacket over her jump suit, and was going back to offer something similar to the Prince. The captain slid in behind the wheel, having added a solid looking helmet to the brightly coloured diplomatic uniform, making himself into the most spectacular target imaginable. Devices, presumably weapons, were being unlimbered, communications checked. “There is a reason they expect you to run away; you’d have to be insane to do anything else.”
“And I’m going to ask you and your men to hold back from the first engagement; you’ve said yourself you’re outmatched. I’d very much like to put the prince on a horse amongst you, but I’m afraid there’s going to be a force coming from behind you, to cut us off, so he’s probably safer behind steel.”
“But we are there to defend you.”
“Which you will be doing. Without too many of you dying, if all goes well. For the time being, hang back out of arrow range; we’re almost arrow proof. You’ve got the walkie-talkie, and know how to use it, but I suspect you’ll know sooner than we will when you can strike effectively.”
“You will put this jacket on – it’s not as good as mine but it’s a whole lot better than nothing – and keep your sabre on hand, but sheathed, do you hear me? Do you want me to ride in here with you?”
“Is it fitting for the son of a Kahn to accept protection from a woman?”
“When the son is eight years old, and knows what the woman is capable of, I’d say it was acceptable, yes. But what I’m asking is, do you want me to?”
“Oh, Junko, how can I be afraid when you aren’t? Yes, I would like you here. What does that make me?”
“Sensible, and not cut out to be a warrior, I suspect. But your father already told me that. And I feel fear, too; if they win, you will be disposed of quickly. Can you imagine how long my death would take?”
What were they playing at? His big horses could probably catch them in full gallop, but couldn’t maintain that pace for long. So he’d been hoping they’d get much closer before detecting his forces. When that stupid soldier had got himself seen (the general had conveniently forgotten that he himself had given the order that had put him in the line of view, not really believing either that they would set out today or the speed at which they would move.) he had assumed they would run straight away, and prepared for the chase.
But they hadn’t; and the general was uncomfortably reminded of his brother and the tiny Nippon woman, and how that had ended.
“Artillery, fire!” Not much chance of a hit at this range, and with only two field guns, but it might slow them, make them think.
Not a hope of that, though; they were ignoring it, and making straight towards his position; they decided too darn fast, these foreigners, and with no respect for the traditions. One just didn’t attack a numerically superior force head on; even those mad Arabs who still attacked the trading routes weren’t that mediaeval.
Now he needed to dress his ranks for a charge; those magnificent horses, so different from the tough steppes breeds, whose ancestors Ghengis Khan himself had brought from his far western conquests. When they got into a full charge, nothing could withstand them, certainly not that tin box bumping over the road towards them, or its escort following a few horselengths behind.
Somewhere on the left flank there was a commotion. More inefficient subordinates? The Kahnate had been peaceful too long; most soldiers never got a taste of real battle and panicked when confronted with it. No, this was real, and he worked his way up the highest hillock on this miserably flat terrain (if they’d had an extra day, even a few extra hours he could have organised a battlefield with a slope to charge down) and pulled out his glass.
The first thing to catch his eye didn’t even need the optics; a flaming horse, totally out of control, screaming its way across the field. That fact accepted, (if not totally understood; horses can’t burn) more fire-related facts came into focus; two of his troopers, rolling in the dirt, desperately trying to extinguish their uniforms, a couple of small bushes left on the edge of the fields cheerfully blazing, and a group of artillerymen desperately running away from…
The flash, and roiling cloud of smoke, as the ammunition cart went up didn’t really surprise him, as his capacity for surprise, never high, was almost burnt out by now. How had they done it? Witchcraft, demons? It didn’t matter. Cold steel won out over magic, any day, all the stories were clear on that.
The men’s long muskets were stacked by the camp; no firing them off horseback, even with the new cartridges replacing powder horns, they were far too clumsy an slow. But his men still trained with the traditional double-curved horse bows, and the foreigners would soon be learning about the weapon that had built the empire.
One of the men was hanging out of the side window of the vehicle now, with something, probably a weapon, in his hands. After a brief second looking along it he lowered it again, and death and chaos bloomed towards the centre of the line. Men and horses down (though not in flames this time), the cohesion of his force was shaken, and they were still beyond the range of any but the strongest archers. If they could pick his riders off at this range, then he needed to close, fast.
“Move forward, in formation, walk!” He could hear his orders being relayed along the ranks as he rode back down the hillock to take his accustomed place in the lead. A pity flags were useless for cavalry; when he was Kahn, the military would get free access to all progress that could be applied to war. How far had they come? He could no longer see far enough to judge distances, but surely far enough.
“Prepare bows, draw and… loose”
The metallic ‘swoosh’ of the multitude of deadly little projectiles brought back memories of training exercises and crowd control. Certainly, at the end of their trajectory they wouldn’t have the penetrating power he would have preferred, but they would still teach those foolhardy
He was almost though his men, now, and could see the vehicle again. They were still too far away to start a full charge, and the arrows didn’t seem to have made the slightest difference; the guy hanging out of the window hadn’t even pulled himself back in. He levelled his weapon for an instant, and another trooper went down under his horse Then the general recognised what was special; while his archers were aiming as much up as forward to get the range, and even muskets needed a lot of extra elevation, but this guy was aiming directly at them.
Which meant that he had much more range than that, and had waited to get accuracy.
He had to get that weapon or – as a head and arm poked out of the other side, and two more of his men fell in quick succession – those weapons. With those there would be no doubt who was the next leader; not that anyone would follow a Han, anyway.
This is well on into the story, which is in the collaborative universe (see workshop), so you already know the characters. (Well, Hilarious Joke does, but you would if you'd got to this point in the story by the conventional route)
Any comments welcome, though 'too many semicolons' is probably not worthwhile (unless somebody feels like telling me which compound sentences should be cut down to simple ones.
I'm afraid it's a bit long, but that's true of everything in this story.
“Horseman ahead.” This was not that rare close to the capital, but even so the beasts were expensive enough to make it worth mentioning.
“Could I use the roof of your vehicle, captain?”
“Indeed you may, would you like us to slow down?”
The horseman didn’t even bother to answer, merely stood up in his saddle, grabbed the roof-rack and swung himself up. Missing fuel tanks had been replaced by bolts of silk, cases and trunks, so he got even more height but an uneven footing. The binoculars he drew out were communications issue; twice the weight of the foreigners’, but he knew them better. The strange platform swayed, but didn’t jolt too much, and he could see the ambush prepared ahead of them. This meant they could see him seeing them, unfortunately, but it couldn’t be avoided.
“They’re dressed like brigands, but I don’t think even a peasant would be fooled. Fifty brigands this close to the capital, with horses like that and two field pieces? Even if they wiped us out the Kahn would know, and take action. And the fat one on the oversized horse; if that’s not the Kahn’s brother Takomiten I’m going to trade in these glasses for a desk job”
“Which means the Kahn’s at risk; we need to send back a couple of your best riders to warn him.”
“Splitting your forces, you’re as confident as that? We’re not at sea now, you know; a force that size can wipe you out, however good you are. Wouldn’t it be better if we all turned back?”
“Leaving a force that size coming up behind us? I don’t like it at all. Besides, they’ll be expecting us to run, so they’ll start moving out of their protection straight away, which will mean they’ll be easier to take out.”
“You’re serious about that, aren’t you? We’re twelve, and your proposing to send two back, not for reinforcements but to warn the Kahn. Then there’s the six of you, including Junko and the interpreter, who I don’t expect to be well versed in fighting, plus the perfumer and the Prince, who are more liabilities than support.
They’ve got fifty men and two light cannons. They’re heavy cavalry, which means muskets, lances and half armour, while we make do with pistol and sabre.” The vehicle had drawn to a halt, and occupants were changing places. Junko had pulled on a strange, lumpy jacket over her jump suit, and was going back to offer something similar to the Prince. The captain slid in behind the wheel, having added a solid looking helmet to the brightly coloured diplomatic uniform, making himself into the most spectacular target imaginable. Devices, presumably weapons, were being unlimbered, communications checked. “There is a reason they expect you to run away; you’d have to be insane to do anything else.”
“And I’m going to ask you and your men to hold back from the first engagement; you’ve said yourself you’re outmatched. I’d very much like to put the prince on a horse amongst you, but I’m afraid there’s going to be a force coming from behind you, to cut us off, so he’s probably safer behind steel.”
“But we are there to defend you.”
“Which you will be doing. Without too many of you dying, if all goes well. For the time being, hang back out of arrow range; we’re almost arrow proof. You’ve got the walkie-talkie, and know how to use it, but I suspect you’ll know sooner than we will when you can strike effectively.”
* * *
“You will put this jacket on – it’s not as good as mine but it’s a whole lot better than nothing – and keep your sabre on hand, but sheathed, do you hear me? Do you want me to ride in here with you?”
“Is it fitting for the son of a Kahn to accept protection from a woman?”
“When the son is eight years old, and knows what the woman is capable of, I’d say it was acceptable, yes. But what I’m asking is, do you want me to?”
“Oh, Junko, how can I be afraid when you aren’t? Yes, I would like you here. What does that make me?”
“Sensible, and not cut out to be a warrior, I suspect. But your father already told me that. And I feel fear, too; if they win, you will be disposed of quickly. Can you imagine how long my death would take?”
* * *
What were they playing at? His big horses could probably catch them in full gallop, but couldn’t maintain that pace for long. So he’d been hoping they’d get much closer before detecting his forces. When that stupid soldier had got himself seen (the general had conveniently forgotten that he himself had given the order that had put him in the line of view, not really believing either that they would set out today or the speed at which they would move.) he had assumed they would run straight away, and prepared for the chase.
But they hadn’t; and the general was uncomfortably reminded of his brother and the tiny Nippon woman, and how that had ended.
“Artillery, fire!” Not much chance of a hit at this range, and with only two field guns, but it might slow them, make them think.
Not a hope of that, though; they were ignoring it, and making straight towards his position; they decided too darn fast, these foreigners, and with no respect for the traditions. One just didn’t attack a numerically superior force head on; even those mad Arabs who still attacked the trading routes weren’t that mediaeval.
Now he needed to dress his ranks for a charge; those magnificent horses, so different from the tough steppes breeds, whose ancestors Ghengis Khan himself had brought from his far western conquests. When they got into a full charge, nothing could withstand them, certainly not that tin box bumping over the road towards them, or its escort following a few horselengths behind.
Somewhere on the left flank there was a commotion. More inefficient subordinates? The Kahnate had been peaceful too long; most soldiers never got a taste of real battle and panicked when confronted with it. No, this was real, and he worked his way up the highest hillock on this miserably flat terrain (if they’d had an extra day, even a few extra hours he could have organised a battlefield with a slope to charge down) and pulled out his glass.
The first thing to catch his eye didn’t even need the optics; a flaming horse, totally out of control, screaming its way across the field. That fact accepted, (if not totally understood; horses can’t burn) more fire-related facts came into focus; two of his troopers, rolling in the dirt, desperately trying to extinguish their uniforms, a couple of small bushes left on the edge of the fields cheerfully blazing, and a group of artillerymen desperately running away from…
The flash, and roiling cloud of smoke, as the ammunition cart went up didn’t really surprise him, as his capacity for surprise, never high, was almost burnt out by now. How had they done it? Witchcraft, demons? It didn’t matter. Cold steel won out over magic, any day, all the stories were clear on that.
The men’s long muskets were stacked by the camp; no firing them off horseback, even with the new cartridges replacing powder horns, they were far too clumsy an slow. But his men still trained with the traditional double-curved horse bows, and the foreigners would soon be learning about the weapon that had built the empire.
One of the men was hanging out of the side window of the vehicle now, with something, probably a weapon, in his hands. After a brief second looking along it he lowered it again, and death and chaos bloomed towards the centre of the line. Men and horses down (though not in flames this time), the cohesion of his force was shaken, and they were still beyond the range of any but the strongest archers. If they could pick his riders off at this range, then he needed to close, fast.
“Move forward, in formation, walk!” He could hear his orders being relayed along the ranks as he rode back down the hillock to take his accustomed place in the lead. A pity flags were useless for cavalry; when he was Kahn, the military would get free access to all progress that could be applied to war. How far had they come? He could no longer see far enough to judge distances, but surely far enough.
“Prepare bows, draw and… loose”
The metallic ‘swoosh’ of the multitude of deadly little projectiles brought back memories of training exercises and crowd control. Certainly, at the end of their trajectory they wouldn’t have the penetrating power he would have preferred, but they would still teach those foolhardy
He was almost though his men, now, and could see the vehicle again. They were still too far away to start a full charge, and the arrows didn’t seem to have made the slightest difference; the guy hanging out of the window hadn’t even pulled himself back in. He levelled his weapon for an instant, and another trooper went down under his horse Then the general recognised what was special; while his archers were aiming as much up as forward to get the range, and even muskets needed a lot of extra elevation, but this guy was aiming directly at them.
Which meant that he had much more range than that, and had waited to get accuracy.
He had to get that weapon or – as a head and arm poked out of the other side, and two more of his men fell in quick succession – those weapons. With those there would be no doubt who was the next leader; not that anyone would follow a Han, anyway.
