Imager’s Battalion

75

Quaeryt was standing outside one of the temporarily abandoned cots west of the battle site before seventh glass on Solayi morning, still thinking about the results of the cannon. You’ve worried about trying to do too much with your imaging, but somehow it’s always worked out. Can you count on that?

He was still pondering that when Skarpa rode up and dismounted.

“How are you feeling this morning?” asked the commander.

“Sore. What else would you expect?” Sore was an understatement, since every movement hurt to some degree, and his chest, which had almost felt healed, ached once more.

“A dispatch rider showed up about a quint ago. I thought you’d like to see what the marshal’s orders are.” Skarpa extended the sheet of heavy paper.

Quaeryt took it and began to read, skipping past the salutation and flowery first words.

… Given the likelihood that favorable weather will not last, you are to press on with deliberate haste until you reach a favorable staging position for a final attack on Variana. Such a position should be no farther than a half day’s travel from the city’s edge unless you earlier encounter any defensive works too great for your forces to surmount without exorbitant cost …

Quaeryt handed the sheet back to Skarpa. “What cost is exorbitant? When you don’t have enough troopers left to hold off the Bovarians before Deucalon can arrive?”

“Something like that.”

“When should we be ready to ride out?”

“Well…” drawled Skarpa, “the orders say deliberate haste. Say around ninth glass. By then I should have good scouting reports for the river road over the next ten milles. That’s almost to the outskirts of Variana.” He offered a crooked smile. “I told the scouts to look for places on the side roads with recent smoothing or repairs. Also for really deep ruts anywhere.”

“Do you think we’ll see more cannon before we reach Variana?”

“I’d not be surprised if there might be one or two that try to loft a shot or two into the front of the column.” Skarpa shrugged. “Also wouldn’t be surprised if there were none, and all that Kharst has could be waiting for us outside Variana.”

“The maps don’t show any bridges over the Aluse between Caluse and Variana.”

“Might be because there aren’t any. That also might be why Deucalon didn’t have much choice in crossing the Aluse.”

“Because Kharst wouldn’t want us to take his chateau?”

“That … and most of the city is east of the River Aluse. So Deucalon would have to take the city first just to get to the bridges in order to reach the chateau. Also … once we take the chateau and defeat Kharst, the folk in the city will give Lord Bhayar less trouble. Makes sense.”

“It also makes sense for us to soften things up for the marshal.”

“That’s what junior commanders and subcommanders do. Even when they’re not imagers.”

Quaeryt smiled wryly, accepting the modest rebuke. “We’ll be ready by ninth glass.”

“We likely won’t see any Bovarians for a bit, but you never know.” Skarpa nodded, slipped the order sheet back into his uniform, then returned to his horse and mounted.

As the commander rode off, Zhelan appeared. “Sir?”

“We’re to be ready to ride by ninth glass.”

“With all due respect, sir…”

“It’s not the commander’s decision, but the marshal’s.”

“Yes, sir.”

The way in which Zhelan agreed suggested the major was less than impressed by Deucalon’s orders.

By ninth glass, Quaeryt was still sore, but not quite so stiff when he mounted the mare, who seemed wholly untroubled or bruised. “You’re hardier than I am.”

“Sir?” asked Khalis, who’d had a tendency to hover around Quaeryt, and who was already mounted and waiting.

“Just telling my mare she was tougher than I am.”

Khalis shook his head.

“She’s fine. I’m the one who’s sore.”

“That’s because you shielded her, sir. She knows that.”

Quaeryt had his doubts about that, but only said, “She’s been good to me.” He wasn’t looking forward to the day’s ride, and he had the feeling many of the troopers likely weren’t, either, especially those in third company.

Fifth Battalion led the column, and Skarpa rode beside Quaeryt under a hazy sky. Again, they saw no High Holdings anywhere near, and only two that might have been, in the distance to the west, down narrow lanes. Quaeryt couldn’t help but wonder why there were so few. He would have thought there would be more nearer to Variana. Then again, maybe it was just that there weren’t that many High Holdings. Even a thousand High Holders spread over a land the size of Bovaria would mean not that many all that close together.

So why were there so many more closer to Ferravyl? Because of the Naedaran influence and affluence in the past? Trade on the river? Quaeryt had no idea, only possibilities.

As the time neared third glass, Quaeryt noted that the sky had turned slightly darker with thin high gray clouds.

“It’s a bit cooler,” observed Skarpa in the early afternoon. “Might get more so.”

“I’ll take the heat if it means we don’t get cold rain,” replied Quaeryt.

At a quint past first glass, a scout galloped back toward Quaeryt and Skarpa and pulled in beside the commander. “Sir! There are repaired holes on the side of the road ahead, and it looks like some of the paving stones have been replaced.”

Skarpa turned in the saddle. “Column! Halt!” Then he turned his attention to the scout. “How far ahead?”

“You see that pair of lowland pines on the right side of the road up there? Maybe a hundred yards past that … where that big lake and swamp begin, right west of the road. There are foot troopers on the flat farther along, but they’re not dug in. Didn’t see anything like cannon.”

“What about repairs?” asked Skarpa. “Are they longwise, running the length of the road, or sideways?”

“More like an angle, sir.”

Skarpa and Quaeryt studied the terrain. Farther west was a thickly forested area that seemed to stretch for milles, with but a single narrow dirt road angling south and then west from the small hamlet north of the swamp-fringed lake. The forest came to within a few hundred yards of the lake at the south end, and within a mille or so farther north, the trees were practically on the shore.

Quaeryt could also see that the narrow strip of land between the road and the river was low and open as well.

“What do you think?” asked Skarpa.

“The cannon have to be somewhere in front of the woods on the other side of south end of the lake,” suggested Quaeryt. “Maybe just inside the trees.”

“That would account for the angle of the gouges in the road that they repaired.” The commander paused. “We couldn’t ride through the road ahead or the land flanking it without taking a lot of casualties … if they have cannon.”

“Then we’ll have to see if they do and take their cannon. Once they’re gone, dealing with whatever forces are waiting beyond the low rise there shouldn’t be too great a problem.”

Skarpa motioned the scout away, waited, then turned to Quaeryt. “Subcommander, I don’t do this often, but I’m ordering you not to lead or participate in this mission. You need to recover. Lord Bhayar and I will need you even more when we reach Variana. You are to send whatever imager undercaptains necessary, but you are not to be anywhere near those cannon. Fifth Battalion will bring up the rear when we attack the Bovarian forces ahead. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I will leave the details of how you plan and staff the imager operation to you. While you do, I’m going to inform the other subcommanders.”

As Skarpa rode back along the column, Quaeryt considered, then sent for Major Arion and Shaelyt and Threkhyl.

Once the three officers arrived, Quaeryt explained, in Bovarian. “The Bovarians appear to have set up another cannon trap, and from what we can tell, they’ve ranged the guns to the road and the land on this side of the lake. The woods there are too extensive to send all the regiments that way.”

“What do you need from us, sir?” asked Arion.

“I need fourth company to escort Undercaptain Shaelyt and Undercaptain Threkhyl close enough to where we believe the cannon are so that they can remove them. If the cannon aren’t there, of course, you’ll just return the way you came.”

“We stand ready, sir,” replied Arion.

“Good. Once I brief the undercaptains, they’ll join you.”

“Yes, sir.”

After the major rode away, Quaeryt addressed the two undercaptains in Tellan. “Shaelyt, your duty is to shield the company with a concealment from the time you leave the river road until you can get close enough for Threkhyl to take out the cannon.”

“Yes, sir.”

“How am I supposed to do that?” demanded Threkhyl.

“The same way I did yesterday. You image hundreds of tiny pieces of white-hot iron into the area where the cannon are. You keep doing it until one of them hits the powder and everything starts to explode. You’re a very strong imager, Undercaptain Threkhyl, and I have no doubts that you can do that.”

“Yes, sir. Who’s in command?”

“You’re both under Major Arion’s command, but Shaelyt is in charge of concealment, and you decide when and where to image against the cannon. Just don’t get any closer than necessary. That’s for your own protection. Now … go join Major Arion and fourth company.”

Quaeryt watched as the two rode back past first company, then second.

Skarpa returned shortly, and saw Quaeryt watching as fourth company prepared. “You have to send them out on their own.”

“I’ve sent them out before.”

“Not on anything like this, I’d wager.”

Quaeryt knew the wager was rhetorical, but he didn’t have to like it, much as he knew sending the undercaptains out without him near was something he’d have to do more and more-even if the battle for Variana happened the next day and Bhayar won. That would be part of what imagers supporting Bhayar would have to do. You can’t do everything yourself.

“Subcommander, if you’d order your battalion off the road so the others can move up…”

“Yes, sir.”

Once Fifth Battalion cleared the road, Quaeryt watched as fourth company vanished from sight. Then he waited … and waited.

Nothing seemed to happen. Shaelyt held the concealment. The Telaryn forces remaining in formation on the river road did not move, and neither did the Bovarians, suggesting that the defenders had far too few troopers to attack … and were there only to force the issue by not allowing the Telaryn troopers to gallop through the gap between the lake and the river single file and widely spaced.

Close to a glass passed. That worried Quaeryt. Shaelyt had never had to hold a concealment that long, but the young undercaptain apparently was managing, because neither Quaeryt nor Zhelan could catch sight of fourth company.

“There!” said Zhelan, even as Quaeryt saw a small flare of light in one spot before the forest, much farther north than Quaeryt had estimated.

The first point of light was followed by several others, and then by explosions and a roar like muted thunder as a section of forest some hundred yards wide disintegrated into broken trees and saplings, with smoke billowing up. Even as Quaeryt watched, flames began to lick what were likely dead trees or limbs.

From the front of the column came a horn signal, and Third Regiment moved out at a quick trot. In time, the last squad of Fifth Regiment began to ride northward.

A section of the forest was in full flames by the time Quaeryt nodded to Zhelan, and the major ordered, “Battalion! Forward!”

Quaeryt kept glancing across the lake, but he saw nothing except smoke everywhere.

Before that long, even Fifth Battalion had ridden north of the area that the cannon had ranged … and never fired at again. Quaeryt kept looking across the lake and to the south, but between the almost imperceptible slope and the smoke, he could make out nothing.

When they reached a point near the north end of the lake, east of where the Bovarian foot had been formed up, there were few signs of the Bovarians, only the troops of Third and Eleventh Regiments. Peering at the fields farther to the west, just at the edge of the forest, Quaeryt could see a handful of Bovarians sprinting toward the woods, pursued by Telaryn troopers. Those who reached the trees survived, because the Telaryn forces obeyed the orders not to break formation and did not enter the forest.

Since there was little either Fifth Regiment or Fifth Battalion could accomplish by entering an already one-sided fight that was almost over, Meinyt and Quaeryt held their men in the five-front formation on the road, ready to move as necessary.

Later, as Third and Eleventh Regiments re-formed, Quaeryt began to look for Arion and fourth company. Finally he saw riders appear on the river road behind them, riding slowly toward them. He realized that fourth company had likely had little choice, given the swampy ground around the lake, but to retrace their path back to the river road.

“Major,” called Quaeryt, “I’m riding to the end of the battalion to meet fourth company. You’re in charge if the commander has any orders.” Not that it’s likely at the moment.

When he reached the rear of Fifth Battalion, fourth company was still a good half mille away. Quaeryt forced himself to wait, although he eased the mare onto the west shoulder of the road, so that he could see what was happening to the west, what Zhelan might be doing, and still watch fourth company.

It was well past fifth glass when the riders were close enough for Quaeryt to see them clearly. Arion and a squad leader were at the front of the column. Behind the major rode two rankers, stirrup to stirrup with Threkhyl, his visor cap gone, the rankers clearly supporting him. Behind them was another ranker leading a mount with a body strapped across it. The body bore a green undress officer’s shirt.

Quaeryt swallowed, then rode forward as Arion signaled for a halt.

“The mission was successful, sir,” Arion reported, his voice somber.

Quaeryt glanced back along the company. He only saw a few empty saddles. “Thank you, Major.” After a silence, he asked, “What happened to the imagers?”

Arion offered a sad smile. “I fear they were too successful, sir. There was more powder than we expected. After he fired the powder, Undercaptain Threkhyl created smoke to stop the few musketeers remaining. Then he collapsed, but he looks to recover. Your young undercaptain shielded us from the great explosion … until he could take no more. We tried to revive him. His body … it is red all over.”

So much for setting an example of protecting others. “He was skilled and brave to the end.” Too skilled and brave. Quaeryt’s eyes were burning.

“Yes, sir.”

“Thank you, Major.” He paused. “The fighting here is almost over. We’re awaiting orders.” Then he turned the mare. It was best that no one saw the tears.