Empire Ascension: The Rise of the Fated One-Chapter 160: Raid of Dutch Supplies part - 3

Dutch occupied Indian territory, outskirts of shimoga city, afternoon on 18th March 1557

The Dutch soldiers marched along the southern road leading to their newly established stronghold. The path was clear but narrow, flanked by thick forest on both sides. The breeze of wind was gentle amid the tall trees, which provided shadow and a peaceful journey, yet only for a time.

The Marathas were stationed on the western side of the road, hidden through the cover of thick forest and rocks as they lay in wait for their prey to arrive.

Soon, dust followed on the distant road, and the crunching sound of boots heightened their senses. They could see the banner of the Dutch flag being held by the frontline musketeers and a few horses at the side.

Captain Simha Bachkar, standing at the forefront of his men, held his left hand high, signaling his troops to remain still and ready. His 60 soldiers, a mix of archers, crossbowmen, and musketeers, were concealed behind trees and rocks, their weapons loaded and poised for action.

The Marathas were split into small squads, spread out across the terrain to cover the entire line of Dutch soldiers. Each squad was strategically positioned to cover the entire line. The Dutch, oblivious to the trap, simply marched through.

As the Dutch force crossed the halfway mark of the Marathas’ coverage, Simha’s hand dropped with a sharp whistle.

Swish!’

’Bang!’

Instantly, the forest exploded into action. Bowstrings snapped, crossbow levers clicked, and musket triggers were pulled in unison. The calm of the forest was shattered by the whistling of arrows and the booming of musket fire.

The ambushers were skilled marksmen with little room for error, striking many in the neck and unarmored parts of the body.

"It’s an ambush!"

"On the right, take cover!"

The Dutch soldiers were caught completely off guard. Arrows found their marks in the neck or unarmored parts, sending blood spurting as they gasped and collapsed. Bullets from the muskets punched through leather and flesh, leaving holes that gushed blood. Several soldiers dropped where they stood, their lifeless bodies crumpling to the ground.

The barrage of projectiles created a shockwave, as the flank facing the jungle got impaled and thrown out, causing the marching soldiers to halt abruptly and panic.

The horse riders were targeted with precision. Horses reared and screamed as their riders were struck down, some tumbling from their saddles in gruesome fashion. 𝑓𝓇𝘦ℯ𝘸𝘦𝑏𝓃𝑜𝘷ℯ𝑙.𝑐𝑜𝓂

Even though the first blood was successful, the damage as collective to a large number of soldiers wasn’t as effective. The lines broke, and the soldiers in small ranks quickly took charge to make small groups and retaliated with quick fire, while the Marathas took cover and shot within, sure gap of exchange.

Captain Hendrick, being the veteran soldier, rallied his forces atop his force from left side of line. " Regroup as platoons. Form a volley line! Ready your muskets! "

The Dutch soldiers scrambled to obey and regrouped to their platoons and counter attacked in formation.

Meanwhile, Vice-Captain Pieter, positioned at the rear, was caught in a fierce crossfire from the Marathas. Seeking cover behind a cart, he barked orders, "Take cover! Use the carts for protection!"

His men quickly established a makeshift barricade, huddling behind the carts while their comrades provided covering fire. They fought back with determination, though many of their shots were absorbed by the thick trunks and rocky outcrops.

The battle was intense, but the Marathas remained disciplined, barely exposing themselves as they continued to inflict casualties from their concealed positions. Their fire was accurate and relentless, creating a constant pressure on the Dutch forces.

As the fight dragged on, a second whistle pierced the air. Captain Simha of the Marathas signaled strategic retreat, ordering his men to fall back deeper into the forest. The Marathas executed the withdrawal with precision, maintaining cover fire as they disappeared into forest.

The Dutch forces pressed forward, but a log, tied with a rope, was suddenly released, blocking their path causing fear and confusion.

"Everyone halt!" Captain Hendrick bellowed, his voice cutting through the chaos. "Protect the supplies and assist the wounded!"

With this, the sound of the ambush died down, leaving the forest heavy with the stench of gunpowder and blood. The soldiers returned to their duties, following their commander’s orders and helping their injured comrades to recover.

On the road, the aftermath of the ambush was grim. Dutch soldiers lay dead or dying, some groaning in agony from wounds to their limbs, others breathing their last as their comrades tried desperately to stop the flow of blood. Captain Hendrick moved among the wounded, issuing orders to tend the injured and assess their losses.

Vice Captain Pieter’s face hardened with frustration at allowing the enemy to escape. He rode to the front and addressed Captain Hendrick. "Sir, please allow me to chase them. They could ambush us again if we don’t eliminate them now."

Captain Hendrick, after pondering for a moment, finally nodded. "Take 100 men and pursue them. But be cautious; they know this terrain better than we do. Report back if you find anything unusual. Don’t take any chances."

Pieter saluted sharply. "Yes, sir." He quickly organized the soldiers, selecting the fittest and most able to continue the chase. The Marathas had already made their escape, but Pieter’s pride made him adamant about the chase.

As he led his men into the forest in pursuit, Captain Hendrick turned back to assess the losses and form a quick barricade with the available resources.

Meanwhile, Vice Captain Pieter finally caught sight of the Marathas, who were relaxing after their ambush. However, these cunning thugs quickly fled as they realized they were being pursued.

Vice Captain Pieter ordered quick fire shots to catch them, but his frustration grew as his enemies vanished deeper into the forest. "Damn these trees," he muttered, watching as the bullets failed to reach their targets at long range.

They rushed forward in the direction of the fleeing Marathas, only to reach a crossroads with three paths. Pieter quickly assessed the situation where they are superior in all grounds but might need to split. ’Damn these natives. Splitting up wont save them.’

Turning to his sergeants, Pieter barked orders. "Sergeant Van der Meer, take 30 men down the left path. Sergeant De Vries, you take the center and make sure they regret their ambush. I’ll lead the rest to the right."

Sergeant Van der Meer nodded firmly. "Understood, sir! We’ll drive them out."

Sergeant De Vries saluted sharply. "Certainly, sir! We’ll make sure those thugs get the lesson of their lives."

Pieter watched them disappear, but an ominous feeling gnawed at his senses. He brushed it off, thinking there was no way these indigenous people could surpass them, and he was going to make sure of it. He pressed on, determined to take his revenge himself.

Unbeknownst to him, all the paths were filled with traps. Together, they might have stood a chance, but now, his decision to split would soon prove a costly mistake. Hidden eyes watched their every move, ready to pounce at the first sign of weakness.

Sergeant Van der Meer led his platoon cautiously through the dense forest. They were wary of the dry leaves, littered like a carpet, which often caused muffled crunches underfoot. His keen eyes were alert for any movement or traps in the surroundings. The air was thick with tension as the soldiers tightened their grip on their weapons.

He raised his hand, signaling a halt. A low murmur rippled through the platoon as they exchanged wary glances. They could hear it too: the subtle crunch of leaves, the signs of movement surrounding them.

"We’re not alone," Van der Meer muttered under his breath, his voice barely above a whisper. "Stay sharp, and keep your movements slow."

The soldiers nodded and moved forward with caution. Except for the occasional snap of twigs underfoot, the forest was frighteningly quiet.

Suddenly, the loud sound of muskets pierced the air, followed by the noise of running footsteps. Panic flickered in Van der Meer’s eyes as he turned toward the direction of the noise. "They’ve engaged the enemy! We need to move, now!"

He rushed forward without delay, and his men followed closely behind. The fear that their other unit might be caught in an intense conflict overcame their sense of judgment, and they leaped and raced across the rugged terrain until they came to a small clearing.

’CRUNCH!’

But as they crossed the clearing, the ground beneath them gave way with a sickening crunch.

"Watch out!" Van der Meer shouted, but it was too late. The thin layer of earth and leaves crumbled under their combined weight, and the soldiers plummeted into a hidden ditch filled with sharpened spikes of 3 feet long.

"Aaarrrgggghhh!"

Pain shot through his body as he landed awkwardly, and he let out a cry of agony as one of the spikes tore through his groin.

"Sergeant!" one of his men yelled, trying to scramble to his feet amidst the chaos, but the ditch was unforgiving.

"Save me!"

"Nooo!"

The first impact was sickening. The spikes tore through flesh and bone with brutal efficiency, skewering bodies with terrifying force.

Sergeant had the worse fate as he landed on a spike that drove through his lower abdomen, splitting through his torso and emerging from his shoulder. His body twisted grotesquely, hanging like a broken marionette as blood streamed down the length of the spike. His limbs jerked involuntarily, a macabre dance of death as the life flickered out of him.

One soldier was impaled straight through the chest, the sharpened wood protruding grotesquely from his back as blood gushed from the wound. His eyes widened in shock, mouth agape in a silent scream as life drained from his body.

Nearby, another soldier wasn’t as fortunate, getting skewered like a kebab as he fell flat onto the spikes, his body impaled like chunks of meat on a skewer.

The pit was a slaughterhouse. Limbs were impaled at jagged angles, bones snapping as spikes tore through them.

A young soldier’s leg was pierced through the thigh, the spike driving upward and shattering his thighbone spilling out blood as he struggled to break free.

"Help me get out! Somebody help!"

His scream was a guttural, primal sound that echoed through the forest, filled with agony and terror.

Another soldier was skewered through the neck, the spike bursting out of the top of his skull first, leaving his head tilted at a gruesome angle, his eyes rolled back in death.

Several soldiers fell down on the ditch and got impaled. Few ones were so tragic that they couldn’t make a sound and died on spot while the remaining struggling for life was sickening. Their blood stained the spikes and pooled at the bottom of the pit, turning the earth into a sticky, crimson mud.

The stench of death horrified the remaining survivors as they stared at the carnage around them.

"It’s carnage! Run for your lives!"

One soldier ran only to trip on a branch and fall over, but he quickly stood up and ran again. Others followed suit, running in all directions as the primal need for survival overwhelmed their judgment.

The few survivors who fell into the ditch still had their suffering to endure. They were already horrified by the blood of their comrades splattered on their bodies as they scrambled to climb out. Their hands, slick with blood and mud, slipped on the sides as they clawed at the dirt in a desperate bid to survive, but then figures emerged, carrying bows and muskets to free them from their misery.

As for those who ran earlier, whether any made it out alive remained a mystery.

Captain Jijarao turned to the Marathas and commanded, "Let’s hurry. It’s time for the others."

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//A/N: My heartfelt thanks to Sagar_Sagar_2524 for 2 new GT tickets. It is deeply appreciated. Thanks for reading! :)

Battle summary:

Dutch musketeers

Leaders mentioned: Captain Hendrick, Vice Captain (lieutenant rank) Pieter, Sergeant Van der Meer, Sergeant De Vries

soldiers involved: 250

Maratha guerrillas

Leaders mentioned: Captain Simha and Captain Jijarao

soldiers involved: 60