Antiagon Fire

56

Although Skarpa and Quaeryt had discussed sending just one battalion to seal off the road from Suemyran to Barna and on to Liantiago, on Meredi evening the submarshal had drawn Quaeryt aside and said, “I’d feel better if you’d take all of Nineteenth Regiment and first company-just in case. They just might have a regiment and imagers.”

So, in the dimness well before sixth glass on Jeudi morning, behind scouts and outriders, Quaeryt and Alazyn led Nineteenth Regiment and first company to the west and south of Suemyran, along a side road that was little more than a lane, if lightly graveled and well packed. The leaves of the olive orchards to the west of the lane looked gray in the early light, and the shoots in the fields to the east were already almost knee-high. Quaeryt had no idea what the plants might be, except that they were not maize, because maize took great amounts of water, and the ditches that flanked the fields were empty.

“The old road runs almost three milles to the south of the new road … if the maps are correct,” he said to Alazyn. “That’s where this lane joins it. If the Antiagons withdraw from Suemyran, they’ll send most, if not all, of their troopers on the new road. Still … we need to cover the older road, just in case. How big a force do you think we should dispatch?”

“I’d recommend a battalion, sir, with couriers standing by. That way, we can shift battalions as needed.”

“Which battalion?”

“Fourth. Major Daelor is good at independent operations.”

Meaning that he’d like to be the subcommander. “Fourth it is. You can brief him and send the battalion off once we reach the new road.”

By a quint past sixth glass, Nineteenth Regiment had reached the “new” road, the first paved thoroughfare Quaeryt had seen in Antiago-except for the short section of road Threkhyl had laid down through the taudis on the north side of Kephria. Before long, based on reports from the scouts, Quaeryt and Alazyn agreed that the best location to set up a possible ambush and entrapment was where the road curved around a low hill and past a small pond fed by a stream.

Two battalions could move from behind the hill to block the road on the west, and the third could move up behind any Antiagon force on the east. While there were fields on the south side of the road, they were open and offered little cover, should the Antiagons attempt to flee southward. There was a lane leading south, farther back to the east, along which Major Daelor had taken fourth battalion to reach the old road to Barna. Just in case there might be stragglers who would try to reach the lane, Quaeryt had Alazyn station one company a half mille farther south along the lane.

Then they settled in to wait.

“How big a force do you think they have in Suemyran?” Alazyn finally asked.

“They might not have any troopers at all. Or they might have a full regiment. I think it’s unlikely they’ll have more than a battalion this far from the coast … but we just don’t know.”

“Do you know why they didn’t have more troopers in Kephria?”

“No. Not really. I’d guess that it’s because there’s really nothing to protect there, and because, until we came along, there wasn’t any real threat, either. Although they squabbled, Kharst and Aliaro were essentially allies … at least in the sense that both opposed Bhayar.”

“But didn’t they fight over Kephria and Ephra?”

“Aliaro shelled Ephra. Kharst raided Kephria, and then Aliaro killed the raiders. That was it. They both decided, it appears, that Kephria and Ephra weren’t worth any more fighting.”

“I could have told them that after looking at them,” replied Alazyn dryly.

“Sometimes, rulers don’t see what others do.”

By eighth glass, Quaeryt was about to believe that his idea of cutting off any Antiagon withdrawal had been a bad idea-or at least that there hadn’t been any forces to cut off. A quint later, a scout reined up beside him on the backside of the hill.

“Sir … the Antiagons are coming.”

“How many?”

“More than a company, less than two. All mounted and one wagon.”

“Thank you.” Quaeryt turned to Alazyn. “I think we have enough force that we might not even have to fight, but the men need to be prepared.”

The subcommander nodded.

Quaeryt waited until the Antiagon troopers were on the road almost between the hill and the pond before the three battalions moved into position.

The Antiagon force consisted of perhaps a company of riders in maroon and white uniforms, riding quickly, followed by a single wagon heaped high with items covered by a canvas tarp and drawn by two dray horses. The driver kept looking back over his shoulder, perhaps because there was no rear guard, then reined up the team as he saw third battalion close off the road to the east.

Quaeryt had taken a position on the lower gentle slope of the hill, high enough that he could see the road and all his forces. He watched, ready to order an attack, as the Antiagon company reined up.

An officer near the front of the column, likely a captain, rode forward.

“You can surrender, Captain,” said Quaeryt, image-projecting his voice, “or you can be attacked and likely perish to the last man. If you surrender, you and your men will be disarmed and taken prisoner.”

“How do I know that?” shouted the captain in the thick Antiagon accent or dialect.

At that moment the wagon driver turned the team, skidding slightly on the shoulder of the road, then flicked the reins as he guided the wagon back east toward the side land heading south.

“Undercaptain Lhandor, image off the wagon wheels!”

“Yes, sir!”

“Major Zhelan, send a squad to capture the wagon and driver!”

Only then did Quaeryt see two men along the side of the lane, apparently working on repairing a ditch. Both looked stunned as the team and wagon rolled in their direction, especially as the front wheels of the wagon vanished, and the wagon bed slammed down on the lane, then dug in. In moments, the wagon bed, the traces, and the horses were a tangled mess, and one was screaming in agony. A second look told Quaeryt that the wagon bed had skidded into one of the workers and knocked him down on the shoulder of the road.

Quaeryt glanced back to the Antiagon captain, who had turned in the saddle and watched the wagon crash before looking back to Quaeryt. “Surrender or not?”

“We will take your word, sir. We have neither imagers nor our Fire.”

“I’ll send a squad down to collect your weapons.” Quaeryt turned. “Lhandor, Horan, you accompany the squad to collect arms. Your job is to shield the troopers collecting the weapons.”

“Yes, sir.”

As the two imager undercaptains moved forward to join the designated squad, Quaeryt turned to Alazyn. “We’d best send a messenger to Major Daelor.” Then he glanced back. “Major Zhelan, if you’d assign a squad to accompany Undercaptain Khalis to see about injuries in that wagon crash and to see about repairing the wagon.”

“Yes, sir.”

In less than a quint, the Antiagon prisoners had been disarmed and were surrounded. Quaeryt rode down the slope, accompanied by five troopers from first company and Voltyr, and gestured for the Antiagon officer to join him.

“I’m Quaeryt, Commander, Telaryn forces. You are?”

“Captain Sentio A’Rhedir, Commander.”

“We need to take a look at your wagon, Captain, and your teamster.”

The faintest expression of puzzlement crossed the tanned face of the dark-haired Antiagon officer. “As you wish, Commander.”

As they neared the wrecked wagon, Quaeryt saw Khalis kneeling by the injured ditch worker.

The undercaptain looked up. “The wagon skidded into him and broke his leg. I’ve splinted it as well as I can. He’ll need a real healer, though.”

“Can you and Voltyr image the wagon back together?”

“If someone will unload it.” Voltyr grinned. “We’ve learned more about wheelwrighting since the first time.”

“What’s in the wagon?” Quaeryt asked the captain.

“Weapons, rations, a paychest, spare riding gear, farrier supplies…” Sentio shrugged.

“Fine. We’ll have some of your men unload it.”

“But … they’re troopers, not loaders.”

“At the moment they’re prisoners,” Quaeryt said dryly.

“Ah … yes.”

Quaeryt glanced sharply at the captain, who immediately looked down.

True to their word, Voltyr and Khalis did return the wagon back to working order, although it took almost a glass before it was in shape to be reloaded.

“You will bring him back to Suemyran?” asked Sentio as two troopers hoisted the injured worker onto the seat beside the trooper who had taken over as teamster.

“There’s no reason not to, is there?”

“But he will be leaving his lands.”

“We don’t have time to seek out the local healer.” If there even is one.

“He will be punished for leaving his lands.”

Quaeryt tried not to show his astonishment, given that the worker had been injured because the Antiagon driver had tried to escape. Even so, he didn’t have a good reply, knowing that he and Skarpa didn’t have the forces necessary to garrison and govern even the major towns and cities along the way to Liantiago. Finally he said, “We can only do what we can.”

Sentio did not reply.

“What were your duties in Suemyran?” Quaeryt asked the Antiagon captain once Nineteenth Regiment and the prisoners were riding back eastward toward Suemyran.

“We were posted here because of the bandits in the Khoro area. We sent patrols along the roads so that the cargoes of olive oil and other crops were not disturbed. No one ever raided where we patrolled.”

“What were they raiding?” asked Quaeryt, curious because one of the maps had shown Khoro as a small town to the west of Suemyran, practically at the foot of the rugged and rocky hills that separated the orchard regions of Antiago from the inhospitable high desert badlands of the south and east. He had to wonder what there might be of value there.

“Who could tell?” replied the captain. “We never caught any of them, and the locals wouldn’t tell us. They are not very bright, you know?”

Quaeryt suspected that the locals were far brighter than Sentio knew, if only because they knew enough to keep secrets. “Where are you from?”

“Liantiago.”

“Are all officers from Liantiago?”

“I would not say that all are, but most I have known are from Liantiago or from villas nearby.”

“What does your father do?”

“He is of the Ascendency, of course.”

“The Ascendency?”

“The Ascendents are the families who are the foundation of prosperity.”

“The large factors and landholders, the ones who own the olive orchards in the north and the palm oil plantations south of Liantiago?”

“And those who have built the great trading fleets.”

“Your father is one of those? A Shahib?”

“His fleet is modest compared to some.”

“How many older brothers do you have?”

“Five.”

Quaeryt almost nodded, but continued his questions as they rode.

Quaeryt and Nineteenth Regiment had not even reached the western edge of Suemyran when a squad from Southern Army rode toward them.

“Submarshal Skarpa holds the city,” announced the squad leader. “The Antiagons had a small post, but it was deserted.”

“We captured the company that held the post. If you’d carry that message back to the submarshal.”

“Yes, sir.”

By the first glass of the afternoon, Quaeryt and Nineteenth Regiment were riding along the wide central boulevard of Suemyran toward the central square. On one low rise along the western end of the city Quaeryt noted close to a hundred large villas. Two quints later, he was meeting with Skarpa in the gaming room of the largest inn of Suemyran, located on the north side of the main square. The inn was built like a two-story villa around a central courtyard that held a fountained garden.

“What do you think we should do with the prisoners?” asked Skarpa.

“Take their uniforms, weapons, and mounts, and leave them here. I doubt that many, if any, will want to walk to Barna … or Liantiago. Otherwise, we’d have to leave a detachment to guard them, and that doesn’t make much sense, one way or the other.”

“I don’t like it, but it makes sense.” Skarpa paused. “What about those two riders of Chaelaet’s?”

“Leave them here, too.”

“What do we do with whatever forces we encounter in Barna? If there’s a detachment posted here, there’s bound to be one there.”

Quaeryt shrugged. “I think we’ll have to make that decision when we get there. We may not have a decision to make, either. They may be ordered to fight to the last man … or to withdraw to Liantiago.”

“Or to harass us all the way there.”

Quaeryt nodded, but he was still thinking about the reaction of Captain Sentio and what it might mean … and what lay ahead of them in Barna and in Liantiago.