Imager’s Battalion

54

As they rode westward on the narrow ancient stone-paved road on Lundi morning, Quaeryt noted that the road had been constructed to stay as flat as possible over long stretches and well above the flood level of the River Aluse, even when that meant detouring several milles from the river. Also, the scouts had been unable to detect any sign of Bovarian troopers. Was that because most of the Bovarians at Villerive had been on the north side of the river? There had still been hundreds on the south side who had fled and could not have crossed the river to the north. Had they all simply deserted?

Quaeryt had also initially wondered why the Bovarians had not at least tried to remove or damage the few places where there were bridges, but after studying the solid and massive ancient stone construction of the bridges, he’d smiled. It would have taken a team of engineers with dray horses and who knew what else to remove the span of even one bridge.

When Skarpa called a halt just before noon, Quaeryt mustered the imager undercaptains and put them through various drills, then drew each of them aside and gave each a specific set of imaging drills to practice on the afternoon ride-while riding.

Shaelyt was the last one, and Quaeryt gave him close to the same set of instructions he’d conveyed to Voltyr. “I want you to hold the heaviest shields you can until you can’t. Then rest for as long as you could hold the shields and start all over. When you can’t do any more, rest for a glass and start once more.”

Rather than asking for the rationale for the exercise, as Voltyr had, Shaelyt looked at Quaeryt. “Might I ask, sir, what the Bovarians might have waiting for us at Nordeau?”

Quaeryt eased back the visor cap and blotted his forehead before finally replying. “That could be anything we faced before or more, but I have to say that I’m more worried about what lies beyond Nordeau. Bovaria is a large land, and I’m guessing that all these battles are more to delay us so that Rex Kharst can gather a massive army to defend Variana-so that he can crush us there, and then march back down the Aluse and take Solis…”

“Do you think Lord Bhayar expects that?”

“Lord Bhayar has not volunteered that information, and I have not asked him. We have received almost twenty thousand troopers as reinforcements. Most have gone to northern army. He has also sent us another regiment and more imagers. It is clear that he understands we will face much more numerous Bovarian forces as we near Variana.” Quaeryt paused. “Now … I have a question for you. Exactly what did you tell Khalis and Lhandor about me and Fifth Battalion?”

“Sir…?”

Quaeryt grinned. “Undercaptain Shaelyt … I need to know what I’m supposed to live up to or live down, and what harm you may have done to their minds.”

“Sir … I told them that you were the son of Erion who had returned to Terahnar to right all wrongs and to serve the cause of justice. I said that you were particularly hard on young Pharsi men who thought too highly of themselves…”

Quaeryt managed not to laugh. He just looked at Shaelyt. “Besides telling them that I was a lost one doomed to serve others … what else?”

“That all the hopes of the Pharsi in Lydar likely rested on your shoulders and that we should support you as best we could.”

The absolute directness of Shaelyt’s last words cut through Quaeryt with the pain of a blunt blade. After a moment he said dryly, “You don’t expect much, do you?”

“No more than you expect of yourself, sir.”

Quaeryt nodded. “Then you’d better work your ass off on those shields, because I’ll need all the help you and the undercaptains can provide.” And more than that, most likely. “And remember to keep eating biscuits and drinking when you’re working on those shields.”

With a smile, Quaeryt turned and walked to where Zhelan was waiting.

“How is the fifth squad doing?” asked Quaeryt.

“Better than Ghaelyn or I hoped. Not as well as they need to be. We’ll work in extra drills when we can.”

“What about the replacements for the Khellan companies?”

Zhelan smiled. “They’re good. A few … they’re still riding wounded, but they want to be here. You’re part of that.”

“All three companies have good troopers and officers. We’re fortunate to have them … and you.”

Zhelan looked slightly embarrassed, but was saved from having to say anything by the command that echoed back along the column. “Mount up! Move out!”

“Time to get going.” Quaeryt nodded to Zhelan, walked to the mare, and mounted.

The rest of Lundi and Mardi morning were uneventful, with no signs of Bovarians, and by fourth glass on Mardi afternoon, Skarpa’s forces had reached a village barely larger than a hamlet, set beside a creek that emptied into the River Aluse. The locals had fled, but not long before the Telaryn forces had crossed the gray stone bridge over the creek, because the cook fires in hearths were still burning.

Even before the regiments and Fifth Battalion had begun to set up the encampment, while Quaeryt and Zhelan were discussing where to put which companies, a half squad of Telaryn troopers, escorting a dispatch rider, came down the road at a fast trot. Both officers looked at the dispatch rider, who had reined up before Skarpa.

“We’ve barely stopped, and here come more orders, I’d wager.” Zhelan gestured to the southeast, where thickening gray clouds were massing and moving northwest, slowly covering the sky. “With rain coming. Might be here before we’re set up.”

“More than likely,” agreed Quaeryt. “That’s why the commander stopped here.”

“Better get on with it, then,” said Zhelan. “The undercaptains in the first cot here, and first company with that shed … and the others-”

“The way we talked about,” said Quaeryt, still watching Skarpa.

No sooner had Skarpa received the dispatch and read it than he gestured and three troopers from Third Regiment immediately departed-one heading for Quaeryt.

“Best of fortune to us all, sir,” said Zhelan before turning and striding toward the nearest cot. “First company!”

In moments, a ranker hurried up to Quaeryt. “Sir…?”

“Commander Skarpa would like my presence?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Thank you.” Quaeryt walked swiftly along the shoulder of the dirt path that would likely become mud with the slightest rain. He was the first of the senior officers to reach Skarpa.

“Good or bad?” he asked.

“About what you’d expect. Let me tell you all at once.”

As soon as Khaern and Meinyt joined them, Skarpa held up a single sheet of paper, at the bottom of which was a large crimson and green seal, then folded it and tucked it inside his uniform shirt. “I’ve just received an urgent dispatch from Marshal Deucalon. He’s ordered us to take that part of Nordeau on the south side of the river. We are to hold it until the northern forces reach the northern part. When that happens, we are to mount an attack on the remaining Bovarians in the north. We are not to destroy the bridge over the River Aluse. We are not even to block it unless required to hold the southern part of the city.” Skarpa paused. “Right now, they’re already two days behind us, and they don’t travel as fast.”

None of the three subordinate commanders said a word.

“I’m not one to stall. You all know that. I’m also in no hurry to fight if we’ll have to wait days for the marshal to arrive. Once this rain comes and goes, we’ll send out scouts to see why he’s so eager for us to move quickly. Do any of you know anything about Nordeau?” Skarpa looked at Quaeryt.

“I’ve only read a few things about it. It’s old. It might date back to the Naedarans.”

Skarpa raised his eyebrows.

“The road, sir. It was built to last, and the only place it can go is Nordeau, because the Naedarans never controlled Variana. That likely means Nordeau was a border city, and it will either have lots of stone walls and fortifications … or none.”

“Depending on whether some later rex kept them or tore them down?” asked Skarpa. “I’d wager the walls are still there and that’s why the Bovarians will make a stand there and why Deucalon wants us to attack first.” He looked to Khaern. “Any thoughts?”

“Not that I’d be wishing to guess what I don’t know, sir, but there are some old walls in Ruile and elsewhere. They’d be difficult to take without siege engines and more. If there are such walls in Nordeau…” Khaern shrugged.

“I’d like to hear what the scouts find out,” said Meinyt. “Rather not worry about things I don’t have to.”

Quaeryt couldn’t help but smile at the grizzled subcommander’s pragmatism.

“We’ll see,” agreed Skarpa. “In the meantime, keep your men and provisions dry.”

As Quaeryt looked to the sky on his way back to tell Zhelan and the company officers about Deucalon’s orders, he had his doubts about how dry anything might remain.