Imager’s Battalion

45

Quaeryt slept for two glasses Lundi afternoon, woke and checked with Zhelan, made certain all the battalion was quartered and fed, ate what he could, and went back to his chamber and collapsed. He woke before dawn on Mardi morning, with only a trace of a headache and clear vision. Relieved at discovering that, he hurried into his uniform and went to find Zhelan.

He did not have far to go, since the major was standing in the doorway between the narrow public room and the kitchen.

Zhelan turned. “Good morning, sir.”

“Have the Bovarians tried anything with the bridge or the wall?”

“No, sir. I had squads on the bridge last night and companies on standby just in case-two glasses for each one. That was so all the men would get at least six glasses of sleep. In case they had to fight today.”

“Good. I appreciate your taking care of that. I wasn’t thinking too clearly last night.”

“Sir … what you and the undercaptains do keeps men from getting killed. By now, they all understand that. They also know that imagers can be killed just as they can.”

That might be the only good thing about poor Akoryt’s death. Quaeryt nodded. “Is the kitchen here feeding the troopers?”

“I took the liberty of getting that done early, sir. Some of our cooks are working with the inn’s cook. We’ve got the first two companies fed, and the others will be getting fed in a quint. They have to eat in the courtyard, but for hot food they don’t mind, so long as it’s not raining.”

Once more, Quaeryt was more than grateful for Zhelan’s competence and experience. “That was a good thought. I have the feeling we may have to move over the bridge and into north Villerive fairly soon.”

“I had thought so. The sentries heard horns and chimes late in the day yesterday. Someone was attacking someone on the other side of the river. Have you heard, sir?”

“Not yet. The marshal wanted us to use the bridge to attack the Bovarians yesterday afternoon. I told Commander Skarpa that if the marshal wanted our forces to attack, it would be without Fifth Battalion.”

“Sir?”

“You and the troopers protect the imagers. The imagers have done their best to protect the troopers. Not a single imager was capable of even imaging smoke after we took the bridge. I would not hazard Fifth Battalion without the support of the imagers.”

“You told…”

“I told Commander Skarpa. I believe he found a way to convey that in more appropriate terms.”

“That is a battle I could not have fought, sir.”

“Isn’t that what subcommanders are for, Major?” Quaeryt smiled wryly.

“Better you than me, sir.”

“And better you than me in handling many other things, for both of us, I suspect.”

“Yes, sir.” Zhelan smiled. “Now that you’re here, we could feed the officers.”

“You didn’t have to wait…”

“It wouldn’t have been ready sooner. The imagers … I did send a squad leader…”

“Good.”

In less than a fraction of a quint, the company officers and the imager undercaptains were seated in the public room and eating.

Quaeryt was halfway through the overcooked cheesed eggs and chopped mutton on the slightly chipped brown crockery platter when a squad leader hurried into the public room. He looked around, then headed for Quaeryt. “Sir … Commander Skarpa and Subcommander Meinyt … will be here shortly. Their regiments are also on the way. The commander wants to meet here with you and Subcommander Meinyt.”

“How soon will they arrive?”

“Less than half a quint, sir.”

“I’ll be ready.”

As the squad leader hurried off, Zhelan looked across the table at Quaeryt. “I’d best get the companies formed up.”

Less than the half quint the squad leader had promised passed before Skarpa marched into the inn, followed by Meinyt. Quaeryt said nothing, just gestured to the open door, and followed the other two officers inside, closing the door behind himself.

Skarpa turned. He did not take one of the chairs around the polished but battered dark oak table. “The Bovarians tried to break out last night. It was bloody. They lost close to two thousand men. Deucalon lost a thousand. He’s furious.”

“How can you tell?” asked Meinyt. “He’s always angry about something.”

“Because of the way he wrote his latest dispatch. He wanted to know if I would inform him when Fifth Battalion and Third and Fifth Regiments deigned to resume fighting.”

Quaeryt winced. “We couldn’t have done any more yesterday.”

“How about today?”

“Not as much as yesterday … but the undercaptains can fight now. Some of them could barely even ride at the end of the fighting yesterday.”

“You weren’t much better,” noted Skarpa. “I didn’t put that in the dispatch.”

“What do you want us to do?” asked Quaeryt.

“Fifth Regiment is mustering on the bridge approach, ready to attack. They took fewer casualties yesterday.” Skarpa offered a crooked smile. “That might have been because your efforts flung some Antiagon Fire into the trenches near where Fifth Regiment attacked. That caused some confusion and disorganization. Subcommander Meinyt used that to his advantage. You and the imagers will need to create an opening in the wall you built. It should be as wide as the roadway … if that is possible.”

“We will make it as wide as we can. Then what?”

“You will support Third Regiment, as necessary.”

In other words, be close enough to deal with unexpected problems, but don’t lead and get your imagers into trouble unless there’s no alternative. “We can do that, sir. When?”

“You have two quints. Form up Fifth Battalion on the approachway with Third Regiment. You and the imager undercaptains will be on the bridge where you can open the wall. Once that’s done, rejoin Fifth Battalion.”

“Yes, sir.” After the slightest pause, Quaeryt went on. “Where are we headed once we cross the river?”

“The marshal sent maps … and directions. Besides whatever forces are guarding the bridge, the largest numbers appear to be stationed behind and near the revetments to the north of the city. Our task is to strike from behind and not to allow them to escape.”

Quaeryt just nodded.

“The main avenue from the bridge splits into two roads at a square a half mille from the river. Fifth Regiment will take the eastern road, Third the western. Fifth Battalion will accompany Third Regiment…”

Skarpa finished outlining the plan of attack in less than a third of a quint, then departed with Meinyt, leaving Quaeryt to ready his own battalion. That was not difficult, since when Quaeryt left the inn, with the first low golden-white light of dawn spreading across the sky, he found Zhelan had already issued the orders and the battalion was largely ready to move out.

“Have the battalion form up with Third Regiment, wherever the commander orders. The imagers and I will rejoin you after we open the bridge wall.”

“Yes, sir.”

Quaeryt nodded acknowledgment and crossed the courtyard of the Bluff Point to where the imager undercaptains waited. Once there, he studied each with care. Threkhyl, unsurprisingly, looked hale and healthy, as did Voltyr and Shaelyt. Desyrk looked tired and slightly wan. Baelthm had deep circles under his eyes, and his face was grayish.

“Late yesterday,” Quaeryt began, “the northern army encircled north Villerive. The Bovarians attempted to break out. Casualties were very heavy on both sides. In order to prevent more heavy losses to our forces, Marshal Deucalon has ordered Commander Skarpa to attack the Bovarians from the rear by using the bridge. Fifth Regiment will lead the attack, followed by Third Regiment and Fifth Battalion. The first evolution of the attack will require us to clear the wall from the far end of bridge. That means removing the section now blocking access to the north. After that has been accomplished, we will rejoin the battalion in support of Third Regiment.” Quaeryt paused. “Any questions?”

Head shakes were the only replies.

“Mount up, then.”

When Quaeryt rode out of the courtyard and down the side street to the main avenue, the imagers behind him, Fifth Regiment was riding onto the bridge, but there was enough space for Quaeryt to guide the undercaptains along the railing, until they moved ahead of Meinyt and his vanguard, then through the gates on the south side and across the span to the north gates on the far side, still guarded by a squad from Fifth Battalion.

The squad leader rode over to meet Quaeryt. “Sir.”

“Are there any Bovarians on the bridge between these gates and the wall?”

“No, sir. Leastwise, there weren’t just a bit ago, less than a third of a quint ago.”

“Good. Once Fifth Regiment is in position, you can return to the battalion. Major Zhelan has it formed up with Third Regiment behind Fifth Regiment.”

“Yes, sir.”

In just a few moments, Meinyt rode up with his vanguard, then eased his mount up beside Quaeryt’s. “How do you suggest we handle this?”

“According to the squad leader who’s been guarding this gate, there aren’t any Bovarians on the bridge between the wall and the gate. I’d venture that any forces they have will be beyond the wall. So … we’ll have one of your men ride up to the gates, climb up, and make sure. If it’s still clear, they open the gates, and we ride to the wall. We do the same thing there to see what’s beyond. Then the imagers remove that section of the wall. If there are pikemen beyond the wall and waiting, I’ll lead the charge far enough to break the pikes, and then…” Quaeryt looked to Meinyt.

“We’ll take over from there. If there aren’t any pikes, we’ll lead.”

“They might have a pike emplacement at the foot of the approach, instead,” said Quaeryt. “We’ll stay with the van until we know.”

Meinyt nodded, then motioned.

In moments, a trooper mounted the gates and peered to the north. “The bridge is clear to the wall, sir.”

“Open the gates!”

Once the gates were open, Quaeryt and the imagers rode through them and forward the thirty yards to the gray stone wall. Quaeryt couldn’t be certain, but he thought he heard footsteps beyond the wall.

Once again, a trooper scaled the wall, but it took three men to help him because of the height and the smooth stone face. From the top, after looking northward, he reported, “There’s no one right near on the other side of the wall, sir, but looks like they’ve built a barrier of stones and stuff at the foot of the approach to the bridge. It’s got spears and spikes and pikes pointed our way in it, and pikemen waiting behind that.”

“How far away is the barrier?”

“Fifty yards, I’d say.”

“How many troopers can you see beyond the pikemen?”

“Hard to say, sir, but looks like a battalion or so. Might be more. Still a lot of shadows there.”

Meinyt motioned for the scout to descend, then looked at Quaeryt.

“We’ll take out the wall. Have at least a squad move forward, to shield the imagers once it’s down. Then we’ll do what we can to destroy the barrier with the spears and spikes. After that … we’ll still do what we can, but I don’t yet know how much that will be.”

“Do what you can.” Meinyt turned in the saddle. “Once the wall’s gone, first squad escorts the imagers forward on the right, the rest move forward into a five-man front, measured pace. Pass it back.”

Quaeryt waited until the orders echoed back, then looked to the undercaptains. “Threkhyl, I’d like you to remove the wall from one side of the road to the other. If you can’t do that, then take out as much as you can from the center of the roadbed outward. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then image, now!”

For a moment nothing happened. Then there was a flash of light, and a gust of chill air. The wall vanished, but a cascade of ice droplets clattered to the paving stones.

Quaeryt was impressed, in spite of himself. “Excellent!” He looked at Threkhyl, who swayed slightly in the saddle and who appeared pale. “Drink something, and eat a biscuit or bread. Right now!”

The ginger-bearded imager reached for his water bottle, lifted it, and slowly drank.

“First squad! Forward!”

The first ranks of the vanguard rode through the wide gap in the wall.

“Shaelyt, Voltyr…” Quaeryt motioned for the two to ride behind him as he eased the mare to the right side of the roadbed and moved forward. Then he looked forward, noting that two lines of pikemen, perhaps three or more, had angled the long weapons toward the Telaryn riders, the tips of the forward-most pikes even with the spears and sharpened poles protruding from the rubble barrier at the end of the approach to the bridge.

The good thing is that they can’t easily charge us with that barrier and the pikemen. Once through the gap and against the railing on the right side, with enough room for the other imagers behind them, Quaeryt reined up and turned in the saddle. “Can you two remove that rubble barrier?”

Voltyr and Shaelyt exchanged glances.

“Yes, sir.”

“Then, when I give the command, do so … but wait until I do.”

Meinyt eased his mount beside Quaeryt. “We don’t have much room here.”

“We can take out the barrier, and maybe some of the pikes. If we can’t do that, I can still break part of the center. Are you ready?”

“We’re ready.”

Quaeryt eased his staff from the leathers and laid it across his thighs, evenly balanced. “Don’t give the order to charge until I tell you.”

Meinyt nodded.

“Voltyr, Shaelyt! Image now!”

The flash of light was momentary, and not quite all the rubble barrier vanished-leaving some spears and rubble about a half yard into the approach road on each side.

“Imagers! Remain with first squad!” Quaeryt lowered his voice and said to Meinyt, “I’ll have to lead this charge through the pikes, but your men will have to be close behind.”

“They’ll be on your heels.”

Quaeryt urged the mare forward, strengthening his shields. Even as he rode forward, the lead company of Fifth Regiment close behind, he could see more pikemen moving toward the center of the road.

Abruptly smoke and pepper sprayed into the arrayed pikes, and some of the unwieldly weapons wavered.

Quaeryt formed his shields into an unseen wedge, linking them to the mass of mounts behind him. As the shields impacted the first pikes, he could feel pressure everywhere, as if he were being fed into an olive press or a grape press. Then suddenly the constriction vanished, and pikes and pikemen sprayed aside from the shields. For a moment Quaeryt felt as though he were burning up, but that was followed by a chill like ice water cascading over him.

Ahead was open pavement. To the right, he corrected himself, but to the left were more Bovarians who moved toward the attacking troopers.

He contracted his shields to cover just himself and the mare and eased her to the side of the square he was riding across-away from the Bovarians. Looking around, he could find no one before him, just the empty square, but as he turned the mare, he saw the Bovarian reinforcements meet the oncoming troopers.

For several moments, and then for longer, perhaps half a quint, the Bovarians gave ground, slowly at first, and then more quickly. Then, the remaining Bovarian pikemen and footmen dropped their heavy square shields and began to run.

In less than another quint, the square below the bridge held only Telaryn troopers and the long shadows cast by a sun that had barely risen. All this so early? With a long day yet ahead?

Shaking his head, Quaeryt rode back to rejoin the imager undercaptains, all of whom looked to be unhurt, although Threkhyl’s eyes were twitching, and his face was pale. Baelthm’s countenance remained grayish. “Undercaptain Threkhyl, Undercaptain Baelthm, no more imaging today unless your own life is threatened. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir…” came the low rejoinder.

“I want you healthy for the rest of the campaign, and you won’t be if you do too much on any one day. Second, I’d like to say I very much appreciated the smoke and pepper. It made what I had to do much easier.”

“Sir…” murmured Voltyr, gesturing.

Quaeryt followed the gesture with his eyes to see Skarpa riding up at the head of Third Regiment.

“If you and the undercaptains would join us … We do have more to do.”

“Yes, sir.” After gesturing to the undercaptains, Quaeryt turned the mare and rode in behind the commander, who followed a single company of his first battalion, the remainder of Third Regiment closing up behind the imagers who had taken station on Quaeryt.

“With me, Subcommander,” said Skarpa, looking back.

Quaeryt eased his mount forward.

“How are your imagers?”

“Two are likely finished for the day. Three can do smoke and pepper, possibly some small barrier removal. One can do more than that.”

Skarpa nodded. “I just received another dispatch. The Bovarians are massing on the west road. They’ve abandoned their position on the east road. We’re to strike them from behind as hard as we can and as soon as we can.”

“How far ahead is that?” Quaeryt glanced around as they rode out of the bridge square. As in other towns and cities they had entered, all doors were closed, all shuttered fastened tight, and no one appeared anywhere on the streets or in the alleys. The shops on the main avenue were largely built of a yellowish brick, with pale red tile roofs in most cases. A few were of wood, and one or two had been constructed of a red stone. All looked well kept.

“Not quite two milles.”

Alert as he tried to be, Quaeryt could detect no sign of other Bovarians. After riding perhaps a half mille, or a bit longer, the column came to another square, this one with a center pedestal bearing a statue of a man on horseback. Around the pedestal was a low redstone wall, topped with an iron railing.

Definitely Naming there, thought Quaeryt as he studied the square, vacant except for the Telaryn troopers, and the raised stone platform on which the statue had been set.

After another hundred yards or so, farther ahead, Quaeryt caught a glimpse of light on metal, and then the sight of armored cavalry charging from a side avenue into one of the companies of Fifth Regiment. Meinyt’s troopers appeared to be prepared, moving out of the way and then attacking mounts or men from the rear while another company rode in behind the armored riders.

As Skarpa slowed Third Regiment, Quaeryt kept his head and eyes moving, wondering when and if another force would charge out of a side street or boulevard. He saw nothing, and before long the column was moving again, past fallen men and mounts moved out of the road, with perhaps a squad tending to Telaryn wounded.

The dwellings along the avenue increased in size with each block they traveled, and the space between the houses increased as well. Many of the dwellings had walls encircling them, and stables and outbuildings. Then, ahead, Quaeryt caught sight of two large stone gateposts, one on each side of the avenue. As he rode closer, he saw that there were no gates, nor were there any houses immediately beyond the gates, but an expanse of fields, whose plants or grasses had largely been trampled flat. Overlooking the fields on the west side of the avenue that had become a narrower but still stone-paved road was a low ridge.

Abruptly Quaeryt realized that the eastern side of that ridge held masses of men and mounts, and it appeared that, under the press of the larger Telaryn forces, the Bovarians had withdrawn onto what looked to be the hillside estate of a High Holder. Small catapults flung dark objects into the Telaryn forces, objects that exploded into crimson-greenish-yellow fire, clinging to whatever they hit.

Fifth Regiment had already turned westward to reinforce the Telaryn forces pressing the Bovarians, but the Bovarian line, roughly halfway up the gentle slope, appeared to be holding their own, possibly because of the effects of the Antiagon Fire grenades.

“Antiagon Fire! We need to get closer,” Quaeryt yelled to Skarpa.

“Second company, escort the imagers forward! Captain, you’re under the subcommander’s orders!”

“Sir!” called a muscularly rotund captain. “Over here!”

“Shaelyt, Voltyr, Desyrk! With me.”

The second company edged onto the left flank of Fifth Regiment, increasing the pace until the riders were moving past the column at what Quaeryt thought might be a canter. Even so, close to a quint passed before they reached the rear of the Telaryn forces.

“To the left, there!” called Quaeryt, gesturing toward what looked to be a gap between the advancing Telaryn troopers.

That “gap” was an irrigation ditch, empty but somewhat muddy. Quaeryt didn’t care about the mud, but he did slow the mare. Taking the ditch was still faster than trying to force his way through Deucalon’s troopers, although the troopers did give way slightly as they saw the troopers leading officers along the ditch.

Quaeryt did overhear a few muttered remarks.

“… officers wanting to get into battle … friggin’ idiots…”

“… let ’em…”

Idiots? With what you want, is there any choice? He didn’t answer his own question, but concentrated on getting to where he could do something.

In the end, Quaeryt and the imagers could only reach the base of the ridge. He reined up and gestured for the others to halt as well. He was still a good two hundred yards from the catapults near the top of the ridgelike rise. No help for that now.

He concentrated on the nearest catapult, almost directly uphill from him, and as the dark object that had to be a fire grenade soared free, he imaged it back, back onto the group of officers higher on the slope. The crimson-greenish-yellow that burst from the grenade enveloped the center of the group. Quaeryt immediately looked toward the second catapult, waiting, waiting … and the second fire grenade soared … and then vanished-reappearing as it smashed into the remnants of the command group. When the third catapult began to move, Quaeryt returned the grenade to the base of the catapult, and the structure and those operating it flared into ugly flame. Then he returned his attention to the first catapult.

Quaeryt’s skull was splitting by the time all three catapults were flaming masses.

But by then the Bovarian lines had totally crumbled, and what had been a static melee was turning into a rout.

Quaeryt, the imagers, and the company detailed to protect them just held their position as the Telaryn forces surged past them and into the hand-to-hand fighting. Quaeryt could still maintain his personal shields, although he doubted that he could have done much more than that, and in the growing confusion he decided against trying to find Fifth Battalion. Skarpa and Fifth Battalion can come to us.

In less than half a glass, the Bovarians had fragmented into small clusters surrounded by Telaryn forces. A glass later the hillside and the lower grounds of the estate were littered with bodies in bluish gray, and hundreds, if not more than a thousand Bovarians, had fled away from Villerive and the River Aluse, heading north and west.

The one Bovarian force he had not seen had been musketeers. Had they attacked earlier and been dispersed? Or did they take so much time to set up that they had never been in position? Even from what he’d seen, that appeared to be the strongest possibility … but it was only a half-informed guess on his part. But aren’t too many conclusions you’re making just that these days?

As the fighting dwindled away, Quaeryt watched as Deucalon dispatched patrols from the northern army to ride down every lane and road, as much as to fragment the survivors and chase them away from ever regrouping as to cut them down, Quaeryt suspected.

Not that some probably weren’t cut down, he thought, massaging his forehead.

This time, he could still see, and that amazed him, even as it strengthened his belief that continually stretching himself to his limits seemed to extend those limits once he recovered. But for how long? Is there a point when your body can do no more?