The war elephants crossed the river in measured, ambling steps. Once they were on the dry land, they slightly picked up their pace into a quick walk. Next came the Merkavas, tilting and swinging as the hooves and the wheels slipped or stuck on the muddy riverbed. Finally, the cavalry waded into the river as one ominous, unbroken wall; and they waded out as smoothly as a wave landing on the shore. As the last row of horsemen landed on the bank a horn blew amongst them, the Polemarch unsheathed his sword and held it aloft. This small, silent signal was all that was needed; hundreds of horns across the phalanx blew up in unison. The elephants trumpeted in fury and broke into a charge, a couple of hundred yards behind them the Merkavas sped up too, and in the rear, the cavalry broke into a trot, keeping another couple hundred yards from the Merkavas. All of a sudden the air filled up with a rumbling like a storm in the distance, like a gathering of storm clouds the phalanx closed in upon the lines of Bhoomi Sontan, closer and closer they came, ominous and irresistible.
A hundred yards from the main army, one thousand longbowmen stood resolute. In the middle, right behind Suborna, commander Mitro calmly eyed the advancing hoard, there was no fear or fury. 'Arrows', his calm, clear voice rang; a thousand arrows slotted into the bows in unison. By now the ground was mildly throbbing by the ever-advancing thumping of the thousands of hooves. 'Hoold', again rang the calm, clear voice; the bowmen stood motionless and only the glint in their eyes showed any animation. Closer and closer the hoard came; the ground was now trembling, the hooves were now becoming deafening, and the dust cloud was starting to shroud. 'Fire', rang the ominous command. A thousand arrows flew, and a moment later came the furious roar of the elephants, the arrows kept coming and the elephants, though agitated and unruly, kept trudging on. The Mahoots (elephant handlers) and soldiers riding the elephants were shocked. The elephants were used to facing arrows and they had been fed fermented juice to make them oblivious to such pains. Yet, they were becoming increasingly difficult to manage; something had spooked them, something they haven't foreseen.
'Take down the men', roared commander Mitro. Half of the bowmen kept the elephants pegged back while the rest started showering the Mahoots and the soldiers with arrows. They realised what was troubling the elephants as soon as the first arrows hit them, the arrowheads had been heated red-hot. It wasn't any usual pain, the arrows were spreading a burning sensation through their bodies. The Mahoots and the soldiers were well armoured, but on the backs of the rowdy elephants, they had no chance to block the arrows and one by one they fell to their doom. The elephants were now barely a hundred yards from the bowmen. The commander made a forward motion with his hand and several hundred horsemen raced towards the elephants, each carried a spear and the spearheads, about the length of a hand were glowing red. Soon, the spears started to pierce the elephants. The arrowheads were just the lengths of a finger and they delved little beyond the thick skin of the elephants, but the spears went deep into the flesh. The elephants roared; not in rage, not in agony, but in sheer panic. Their natural instinct told them to get away from this terror, so they turned and started to run towards the river.
The masses of Merkavas and cavalries made way for the elephants to pass through. The Polemarch watched the elephants pass and then trying to soothe their pain and fear by wallowing in the shallow water of Chandni. Slowly his face contoured into a smile and soon he broke into a roaring laughter. 'Well played', he shouted to his enemies. The moment the elephants showed distress, he had sent some scouts to investigate the trouble. Once they knew about the fiery arrows, the commanders urged him to send the Merkavas or the Tempestas to rout the bowmen. But the Polemarch knew that the Merkavas and the Tempestas would have trouble getting past a line of rowdy elephants and those who would pass through were unlikely to reach the enemy line; the longbowmen were a menace, well capable of hitting targets three hundred yards away. Instead, he ordered the elephants to retreat; but soon the Mahoots fell and the retreat became a rout. He had a brief consultation with his commanders and soon the horn started to blow again. The Tempestas would charge now, instead of a hundred elephants the enemies would now have to deal with thousands and thousands of marauding horsemen. The Merkavas would follow, attacking and crushing the fragmented or isolated enemy battalions.
As soon as the elephants started to flee, the commander of Nisorgo roared 'Infantry, prepare'. A row of soldiers walked up to the bowmen. Then, some knelt down while others stood by, all had the shields protecting their bodies and their swords or spears protruding forward. The bowmen had melded into the wall of shields and swords. Then came another row of infantry, then another, then another; soon the infantry had formed a huge impregnable block with thousands of archers embedded among them and two battalions of horsemen flanking the sides. By now the Tempestas had started to rumble forward, thousands and thousands advancing like a giant battering ram intent on smashing the enemy column into pieces. Suborna's lips were slightly trembling, but her hands were steady. 'We have to do it, there's no other way' commander Mitro softly whispered beside her. She nodded slightly. 'Fire' roared the commander and a thousand arrows took to the sky. Moments later, the most unearthly scream, like the screech of a vicious Rakkhos from the depth of hell, pierced the battlefield. The Tempestas were well armoured, even the horses had metal helmets; but their necks were protected only by thick hide covers and their torsos were all bare. That was the chink the bowmen were aiming at.
Hundreds of horses fell, throwing out or crushing down their riders; hundreds of horses then stumbled on the fallen, again throwing out or crushing down their riders. But thousands and thousands of Tempestas kept surging forward and thousands and thousands of arrows kept raining down on them. The immovable object had met the unstoppable force. Thousands of archers across the formation were firing on the Tempestas, but in the end, they crashed on the enemy line. Like a massive wave crashing on the bank they tore away a massive chunk of the enemy formation, but the soldiers stood their ground and there were rows and rows of thousands of them. Unnoticed in this chaos, the Bhoomi Sontan horsemen had rushed forward and attacked the Merkavas in the rear. Caught off-guard, many fell immediately, but the rest fought back. The Merkavas were built to attack, and defending against a numerous enemy soon became awkward for them. They responded in the only manner drilled into them, surging towards the enemy. This was what the horsemen were waiting for; they swiftly retreated, drawing the Merkavas away from the main phalanx. Isolated and outnumbered, they were now surrounded and hunted from all sides. Like a pack of wolves hounding a tiger the relentless and swirling horsemen kept chipping away the enemies. As the Sun tilted to the west, hundreds of bodies strewn across the plain were all that remained of the once-fabled Merkava.
Some of the Tempesta commanders wanted to rush to the aid of their comrades. But they were deterred. Every Tempesta sent on the chase is a Tempesta less for the main assault. Besides, the horsemen would just retreat to a distance or keep harassing them from a distance. The Merkavas have made a fatal mistake and they will bear the consequence, the battlefield has no mercy. The Polemarch was watching the battle with annoyance, though his men were continuously chiselling into the enemy formation, the progress was slow. By blocking the first row of Tempestas, the enemy has effectively disabled all the troops further behind. He shouted instructions to the commanders further behind, and soon the rear half in the rear-half formed two smaller phalanxes and started to flank the enemy. Before long his face lit up in a smile once more, his strategy was working. The lightly armoured footsoldiers were never a match for the heavily armoured Tempestas on horseback. But they managed to thwart them till now creating the bottleneck knowing the enemy prefers to sweep through the lines. Now attacked from the sides, their resistance was faltering.
'Not a yard more' boomed the voice of the commander of Nisorgo as he shoved through the ranks to the forefront and attacked the enemy. The soldiers regrouped and held the line. There were still many thousands of them and each would fight till they fell, and the enemies too were many thousands and they were unwilling to relent. The Tempestas wanted to break the formation before dusk, the infantries wanted to hold on till dusk, and all the while hundreds from both sides kept falling. The Sun was losing its gloss when the alarm rang among the ranks of the Tempestas, they were being attacked in the rear. After finishing off the Merkavas, the horsemen have returned and seeing their comrades in distress they have thrown themselves on the enemy in reckless rage. Time stood still as thousands of men fought with primal ferocity. Then the Tempestas heard the horn-blow they have rarely heard, the order to retreat. Slowly, and always on guard, the Tempestas started to retreat, carrying as many injured comrades as they could. The Bhoomi Sontan army didn't push forward, they barely had the strength to stand their ground.
The Polemarch stood with the battalion guarding the rear; finally, they too started to retreat. Most of his phalanx had already crossed the river and had reached their camp. Before crossing the river he turned around and scanned the battlefield, thousands and thousands of bodies dotted the field, brave men and beautiful beasts lay in ruins. He could still hear the occasional feeble whinnying and moaning of those who still had some life. He couldn't know if they were his or theirs, the battle had been unforgiving to both sides. As the last row of the enemies crossed the river exhaustion gripped the ranks of the Bhoomi Sontan and many collapsed on the ground. Silence descended, a palpable, excruciating silence. Even those who moaned in pain or those who sobbed in grief made little sounds as if they dreaded that breaking the silence would bring another catastrophe. But soon the commanders started to stir, there was much to be done; the fallen needed to be buried, the injured needed to be tended, the able needed to be fed, and above all else, the remaining force must be regrouped. The battle is over, but the enemy is still at their gate.
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