#pikeandshot

[caspertheramknight]

[empirialtank-blog]

Unicorn Dragoons, sample

AN: first six pages of a light novel I’m working on, alternative historical fiction where a variety of magical races coexist with humanity. Story follows a soldier fighting for England as part of a division of Unicorn Dragoons.

First draft unedited

Part 1: To take a Crossroad. 

“Wheel and Fire!” Captain Ethelred called as the calvary closed in on the coronelias. At his order the cavalry turned sharply away from the wall of pikes arrayed before them and rode in an arc slowly away from the formation. As the horsemen turned they lowered their arquebuses and fired into the dense ranks of men. Each man on the edge of the formation fired his shot, then turned back in toward the center of the formation allowing another man to skirt out to the front and take his shot. 

Llywelyn was second in his squad to take his shot near the apex of the arc.  Holding his gun at a slight angle to ensure sparks from the pan fell into the barrel, he felt the quick rattle of his wheellock turning against the pyrite. One moment the powder in the pan flashed as it ignited, the next the gun thundered and rocked back against him. The ball flew faster than human eyes could follow and took a pikeman in the throat dropping him dead. 

As he rode back away from formation, he set the but of his gun in a holster at his side and set to loading the gun. First a quick sweep of his ramrod to crush any sparks still in the gun. Second he poured a measure of black powder down the barrel. Third, a wad of cloth to hold the powder in place. Fourth he set the bullet down the barrel of the gun and pushed it back tightly into place with a few tamps of his ramrod. This left the black powder packed tightly at the very back of the gun where sparks from the pan could ignite it. Meanwhile the wad of cloth was jammed up around the ball of the shot itself, keeping the whole concoction exactly where it was meant to be, so long as he didn’t shake the gun vigorously against the ground or anything idiotic like that. 

“How much longer are we going to keep cutting at these fools like this?” An impatient voice called out from just beneath him. 

“Those pikes are still much too thick to have at them yet.” Llywelyn responded as he came back around to the front of the formation. He still wasn’t ready to shoot yet which was annoying, but not unexpected. Two more members of his team took their shots on this pass, next it would be his turn again. “I wouldn’t want to see your pretty hide stained red quite yet.”

To complete his preparations he took the gun out of catch at his side and held it closer to his chest. He pulled back the lock’s dog, which held the pyrite in place for the spark to catch, and locked it away from the wheel so it could be rewound. Pulling a small spanner from his chest pocket he turned the wheel’s spring until it was wound tight one more. Then finally he poured just a bit of powder into the pan and put the dog back into its spot. His gun was now ready to fire again. About forty seconds had passed since his first shot, and since he was quite yet back to the front, he took the time to refill the measure he had used to load the gun with fresh powder from his horn. 

While he had been busy loading his team had been slowly cycling their positions around as each man took his turn to fire. Now once more he was second from the front. Next to him, a fellow soldier: Gareth took his shot almost as soon as he came around to face the enemy. He then slipped back, and once again Llywelyn rode at the edge of the formation. He raised his gun, turned it at an angle, waited for a moment when he was almost completely airborne as his steed raced forward at quick gallop, then fired again. This shot hit a pikeman in his cuirass but the heavy bullet punched through the armor. The man was still standing when he was swept out of Llywelyn’s sight, but with a clean shot to the chest, he would not stand for long. 

“Musketeers are coming forward.” The voice beneath him noted. 

“I see them.” Llywelyn affirmed as he pulled back deeper into the formation, letting another man from his team take their shot. 

“But they’re not coming out of the pike wall!” The voice added in growing frustration. 

“Formation pull back!” Captain Ethelred ordered, and the cavalry followed his lead, breaking off almost at once. A few last shots called out as those with the last clear sight of the enemy emptied their guns, a few more shots came from the Arquebusers amongst the coronelias chasing after them, but the cavalry were already out of their limited range. 

The Guals called after them angrily, daring the horsemen to at last try their luck in a charge. Llywelyn just smiled to himself at their growing frustration. The great combined arms formations, uniting the staying power of heavy pikes with the killing power of gun lines, were designed to stop the determined knight charges that had dominated the battlefield for almost the last thousand years. But they weren’t up against heavy armored, clumsy knights. Here they faced light and nimble dragoons designed to skirmish and raid such massive formations and slowly grind them down. Even then, the pike squares normally had a fair chance to hold off such assaults, as most dragoons lacked the firepower to break their armor as they had to make due with just pistols. For most dragoons the difficulty of managing their mounts, keeping an eye on the enemy, keeping up with their own formation and loading the guns was simply too much to reasonably expect a soldier to do. So instead of carrying one heavy gun and reloading as they rode, they carried a few smaller pistols which they prepared to fire long before closing on the enemy. Most dragoons don’t ride mounts that can think for themselves though. 

One of the many advantages that made unicorn cavalry the undisputed masters of mounted warfare. 

Oh sure centaurs could also carry muskets into battle and inflict not inconsiderable casualties on a formation like this. But against them the great ten company Tercios and these smaller three company coronelias could put their musketeers out in front of their pikes and match volleys with the centaurs and still have confidence that if the centaurs charged they could pull back behind the pikes in time to be safe. Unicorns offered no such hope. 

The formation came to halt well outside of the range of the infantries guns and rested a moment. The unicorns pranced back and forth in place still full of restless energy. The smell of blood was in the air and their predatory instincts told them the pounce for the kill. But it was still much too soon yet. Their riders spoke reassuring calming words into their ears while stroking their mains or rubbing their sides. 

“Just another pass or two and they’ll be ready to break.” Llywelyn said to his mount Scuralet after he had mastered himself. 

“We should’ve been done by now.” Scuralet noted with a shake of his head. “The captain is being too cautious, we could’ve easily made another pass or two just then. The rest of the band is counting on us to clear the cross roads for them. The longer we wait the closer they come and the less we will seem like bandits to these Gauls, my brother-husband.” 

“It has not been so long as you think,” Llywelyn stated plainly. “Not a man in that formation will see the rest of the band pass this way. And bandits wouldn’t be willing to take the same risks as trained fighting men.”

“I hardly think bandits would try their luck against a full thousand soldiers either.” Scuralet objected. 

“Sure they would.” Llywelyn joked. “There’s good loot to be found on soldiers. Weapons, armor, supplies and the soldier’s pay, all prime targets for enterprising reavers. Why it's a wonder more armies don’t get held up everywhere they go.”

“Probably all the spears and guns put more sensible people off.” Scuralet concluded. 

Llywelyn scoffed at the notion, and began to reload his arquebus. The pikemen pulled back their dead and reformed their ranks. Some of the musketeers had pushed up near the front, but their commanders were urging them back out of the pikes way. It seems the enemy colonel was still willing to try and just wait them out. Not that he had many options at this point. 

Earlier in the fight he had tried to send out more men to skirmish with them, it had not gone well. A few teams had taken it in turns to ride forward a bit and take shots into the musketeers. With men moving at speed a few scattered shots had little hope of hitting any of the riders. They would’ve needed a full volley to have any real chance at getting some kills. While the rest of the formation held back just out of range, one team had finally succeeded in baiting out a full round of shots. 

Although shaped like horses, unicorns in truth share many qualities with large predatory cats, more flexible forearms, more spring like muscles around the back legs, and retractable claws behind the hoofs that can dig into the soft ground for simply incredible traction. When the order to fire came out, the team drawing their fire had dug their heels in and sprung backwards in a maneuver that would’ve broken a horse’s legs, which had quite effectively dodged the hail of bullets that had been tracking their movements. At the same time the rest of the formation went from a near total standstill to dead gallop in less than two full strides. The musketeers barely had time to drop their guns and draw swords, much less load and fire another round. The pikes managed to rush forward in time to keep their men from being more than badly mauled, but the musketeers hadn’t been willing to try skirmishing since. 

All the enemy colonel could truly hope to do now was bear it out and hold his ground. It was not the worst strategy. Every man that fell filled the air with the smell of blood, so the longer the fight went on the more likely a unicorn would give into their own blood lust and try to rush the pikes. Plus the pikemen were fairly well armored and could endure a hit or two, so his formation couldn’t be broken with just guns alone as he certainly had more pikes than the horsemen had bullets to kill them. If he gave no sense of faltering and giving in, then certainly a formation of brigands, even one desperate enough to attack soldiers, would give in and retreat. 

“Patricians to me!” Captain Ethelred called gathering the largest unicorns to his sides, with them came the formation’s officers. They held a brief conference with the Captain gesturing at the enemy, his hands rushing out and then splitting away to either side. Llywellyn guessed that a change in strategy would be shortly coming. He finished loading his arquebus, refilled his gunpowder measures, judged his powder horn to still be more than half full, counted the number of bullets he still had and finally eased his heavy saber from its scabbard. No sooner had he finished than his team’s sergeant and corporal came back to them, while their sister team closed in to hear them as well. 

“We’re going to have a go at running around the pike square.” Sergeant Holt, a hulking man with blazing red hair and sunburnt cheeks, told them while the two large patrician unicorns nuzzled over the team’s mounts, checking them for injuries and quietly asking after their riders. 

“We’ll come at the enemy head on then split into two groups.” Corporal Leofflad, a somewhat heavy set woman with her golden hair tied up underneath her helmet continued. “Our team will swing off to the left and circle round, while the sergeant takes his team around to the right. Take your shots at a measured pace, no more than two shots into each side. Hold your guns at the ready once reloaded and wait for your unicorn to find a chance to take you to the front to make another shot.”

“Keep your dust cloths up over your face men, it’s going to get pretty messy out there with all of us running around out there.” Regnaldor said in a somewhat feminen voice from beneath the sergeant. 

“And if any of you young bucks managed to run into anyone else out there and get yourselves trampled to death then I will have some very harsh words for you all when we are done today.”  Gicelbyrue a far more aggressive voice threatened from beneath the corporal. “And if any of you should somehow manage to drop one of my men out there, you had best just go ahead and throw yourselves on the pikes, because what I will do to you will be far, far worse.” 

The rest of the unicorns straightened up at this admonishment and made firm denials that they would let anything of the sort happen to their brother-husbands and sister-wives. Both patricians, mare and stallion more than two hands taller than any of the other unicorns in the two teams, gave their teams another look over. Their firm stares soon bled over to ones of pride and affection. Gicelbyrue even nipped playfully at the ear of one mare when she stepped forward a bit to make her protests all the more forceful. She whickered at him and fell back. Regnaldor pranced around Llywelyn’s team a bit before pushing herself against Scuralet’s side and nuzzling his head, laying her neck overtop of his in a kind of hug determined to match and one up Gicelbyrue’s display of affection. 

The riders patted their mounts necks and assured them they had every confidence that the unicorns would carry them through the fight. Llywelyn came to attention and saluted his sergeant while rolling his eyes as the patrician made her affection well known. The sergeant scoffed and turned in the saddle, squeezing his legs as he did to urge the larger unicorn back away from Scuralet, who for his part almost followed after her evidently enjoying the attention. Llywelyn like wise nudged his mount back to his place who quickly ducked his head in embarrassment which the whole team enjoyed a brief laugh over. 

Shortly thereafter the Captain began to lead his team forward with his first lieutenant and her team right behind him. The whole formation quickly fell into line, patricians on the outside with their teams riding in ranks towards the center. For a while they advanced at no more than a trot, much to the annoyance of many unicorns who longed to lunge out ahead and join the fight, but none dared outpace their patrician at their sides or the captain out in front. Sixty yards from the enemy, their pace accelerated suddenly and the front ranks began pouring fire into the center of the enemy pike wall once they had closed to forty. 

Billows of thick smoke blocked all sight of the enemy for a time. Each team took another stride closer to the enemy to see clearly before they took their shots and turned suddenly to one side or the other. Before long Llywelyn found himself charging through those acrid clouds and came to face the enemy less than twenty yards away now. The sight caused his heart to skip a beat for an instant. 

As the unicorn blessing ran out to either side of the pike wall, the defenders watched them rush past out of the smoke at thunderous speeds. Without even thinking more than a few had turned their pikes ever so slightly to one side as they followed horsemen rushing around them. Usually such small movements would not count for much, but with rank after rank pouring fire into the center of the pike wall, the formation had thinned considerably and suddenly there were not enough pikes before them to hold back a determined charge, and the pikes to the side were out of place to cover the gap. 

It was the narrowest of gaps. Completely useless to any normal cavalry attack, the moment a horse ran forward rather than to the side, the pikes would close and only death would await them. But they rode no normal horses. 

The sergeant and the corporal had spotted it as well, rather than peeling off to the side they sprang forward in a great leap. Scuralet was right behind them, and the rest of the team scarcely a stride behind. Llywelyn took a wild shot, more concerned with not hitting his team’s patricians than aiming at a single target, he still managed to hit a foe though. Immediately he took the gun in one hand, holding the heavy stock forward, while he drew his saber with his other. 

The pikes started to swing back, but the fifteen foot long heavy spears could never turn quickly even in the best of times. And not every pike turned, many of the enemy men were still mesmerized by the rest of the blessing thundering around them. Only a handful bared their way, where they should’ve been a near solid wall of wood and steel. Unicorn horns, heavy sabers and guns swung like clubs battered at the great spears to turn them aside as the patricians pushed forward. They got past the pike tips and now threw themselves to the side to keep the rest of the pikes from swinging back into place.

A narrow wedge had been driven into the spear wall, and Scuralet rushed through the clear way like a bolt of lightning. He leapt the last stride, and pounced on the soldier before him. His claws could find no purchase on the man’s armor, but almost two thousand pounds of rider, armor and unicorn coming down on the man all at once shattered his collarbone and crushed him to the ground. Llywelyn slashed with his saber at one man to his right, caught him in the throat with a mortal blow, while also swinging his gun wildly as a club smacking another man in the head. The pikemen around the three victims pushed forward as hard as they could trying to hold Scuralet back, using the dead and dazed bodies of their comrades as shields against further advance. Llywelyn thrust his saber into another man’s eye while Scuralet bit down on a hand raised to push him back. None of the pikemen could bring a real weapon to bear against either of them, but if they could hold for just a few seconds, other men to their sides would drop back and bring their pikes to this point in the line to drive the pair off. 

They would never get that chance though. While Llywelyn was still pulling back his saber for a third strike, the other members of his team and sister team crashed in behind him. Two more unicorns joined at his side, kicking, biting and clawing, while their riders fired point blank into the faces of the defenders, shooting two dead, burning the rest with the hot acrid smoke. The rest of the teams hit along a more broad front forcing more defenders to move their pikes away from the point of attack. The formation was stretched to its breaking point, and then the lead patricians of the next pair of teams came charging in with the greater mass and more deadly speed. The wall of men before them buckled, and then broke, a dozen men fell to the ground and were trampled over, the rest leapt back to avoid a similar fate. The great square had been breached. 

There was no time to rest. Within the square the musketeers were waiting. For a moment or two, horror and confusion at the breach would hold them paralyzed, but if they were allowed to form up and pour volley after volley of musket fire into the attackers they would surely be forced back out with terrible losses their only reward for so daring a charge. Llywelyn stowed his arquebus, he had no time to reload, drew one of his pistols instead and urged Scuralet on. His mount surged forward with the rest of his team, the two new patricians still came out front, and Llywelyn could hear his own sergeant calling from behind ordering them to press on.