The Autumn Republic

Chapter 14

Nila was going to die.

She wondered if that certainty had ever crossed her mind before, during any of the events of the last six months. It must have. During her time with the royalists, or as Lord Vetas’s prisoner, or even her first encounter with Bo. There were a dozen or more times that she had stared death in the face.

Yet none of them seemed more certain than now.

Something had been done to buy the Adran army an extra day. She’d seen a messenger rush from General Hilanska’s camp yesterday afternoon, crossing over to the Kez lines, and the anticipated attack had never come. It had given Brigadier Abrax more time to plan and dig in her forces.

And now, with the sun rising over the Adsea, the Kez and Adrans prepared for battle once again. A hundred thousand Kez infantry fell into ranks to the south, their bayonets glittering in the morning sun. To the northeast, General Hilanska’s men were already arrayed and ready for battle. Nila stood near the Wings of Adom command tent, where she could see messengers running to and fro and hear the bark of Abrax’s stern alto.

The Wings of Adom and the three brigades of Adran soldiers that Ket had handed over would be crushed between the two enemy armies.

There wasn’t even any place to run.

Rumors swirled among the Wings of Adom. A captain claimed that they’d seen one of Field Marshal Tamas’s powder mages. An infantryman claimed that Deliv had entered the war and were sending reinforcements, but that they were still weeks away. Another said that this was all a ruse by Hilanska and that once the Kez forces advanced, Hilanska’s army would swing around and hit them in the flank.

Soldiers would say anything to keep up morale, it seemed.

Even if all of those things were the case, they would still be crushed by the Kez. There were just too many of them. Their army could swallow the entirety of the Wings of Adom mercenary company five times over and still have room for more. The Wings’ infantry – impressively – kept up a professional front, but she could see the panic in the eyes of the rank-and-file soldiers and their officers.

They would all be dead by morning.

“Ma’am,” a voice said at Nila’s elbow, startling her.

She regained her composure and turned to the young lieutenant. He couldn’t have been much older than Nila and he wore his black hair slicked back under his bicorne and tied in a bow behind his head. He favored her with a nervous smile.

“Yes?”

“Brigadier Abrax has requested your presence.”

Nila frowned over toward Abrax. The brigadier had exited her tent and was standing just thirty paces off, staring balefully at the Kez army. Why hadn’t she just come over herself? “Of course.”

Nila joined Abrax in front of the command tent. “You wished to see me, ma’am?”

“Is it still a secret that you’re a Privileged?”

Nila blinked back at her. “I… well, I assume so. Bo said that I was still too green for my aura to show in the Else, so the enemy Knacked or Privileged shouldn’t know I’m here.”

“The enemy has no Privileged. Or,” Abrax corrected herself, “the ones they do have amount to very little. None of the mountain throwers of the royal cabal.” She turned to Nila suddenly. “Have you told anyone?”

“No.”

“Keep it that way. You’re to be our trump card.”

Nila couldn’t help but laugh at that. She stifled it as best she could, but it still leaked out as a giggle.

“Something funny, Privileged?”

Privileged. Being addressed as such sent a shiver down Nila’s spine, sobering her instantly. “It’s just that I’m only a trainee. I’ve barely learned to look into the Else, let alone command the elements. I won’t be any help at all in a fight.”

“You can’t do any sorcery?” Abrax sounded skeptical.

“I can light my hand on fire. But only when I get very startled or angry.”

Abrax turned away, looking slightly disgusted. “We have some Privileged, but they’re very weak. They won’t do much more damage than a well-placed field gun and they’re far more fragile. Borbador told me you were powerful. I’d hoped you’d be of some help.”

Bo had said that to Abrax? Why on earth? Nila was untrained, and Bo knew that better than anyone.

“I’m sorry,” Nila ventured.

“I didn’t realize you were that green. Stay back with the baggage. You’ll do nothing but get underfoot near the front. And whatever you do, don’t attempt any sorcery. You’ll likely kill everyone around you. It’s unfortunate your bloody master abandoned us. He might have tipped this in our favor.” Abrax strode away without another word, barking orders.

Nila stared after her, indignation warring with a sense of helplessness. Bo had abandoned her. She knew just enough to know that maybe, with a few months more training, she could have defended herself. But she couldn’t be of any use here. She was no better than the rest of the camp followers – part of the luggage. She was back to being with the laundresses and all the rest.

Abrax could go to the pit. If – when – the Kez broke the line, Nila would fight. She didn’t care if she took the whole baggage train with her.

The baggage and camp were about a quarter of a mile behind the front line. The area had been fortified with hastily dug entrenchments and was guarded by a brigade of Wings of Adom mercenaries stretched out – to Nila’s eye – over far too much ground.

The camp followers had been ordered to stay behind when the Wings had marched to General Ket’s aid, but even so there had to be several thousand people with the baggage, essential personnel such as wagoners, quartermasters, and the like.

“Shouldn’t you be near the front?”

Nila turned to find Inspector Adamat sitting on the ground nearby, looking older and wearier than he had just a few days before.

“Abrax sent me back here. I don’t have enough training to be useful.”

“Ah. I suppose that’s true enough.” He smiled as if to soften the comment. “I’m too old to be of any use.”

“I’ve seen infantrymen with ten years or more on you.”

“I haven’t held a rifle in line since drills at the academy. I’m more likely to stick my bayonet into the man beside me than I am to be of any use up there.”

Nila wondered if that were the case. She knew that Adamat had led the charge against Lord Vetas’s men. He was more than capable. Perhaps he’d used his age as a pretense to avoid the front. Nila wouldn’t have blamed him. Courage, Bo had told her, was overrated.

Adamat certainly didn’t look frightened. Just tired. He stared at his feet for a few moments, then raised his head. “They don’t have enough men back here to guard the rear.”

“I was told an entire brigade.”

“The Kez will flank us to the west while General Hilanska hits us from the northeast. I predict this position will be overrun by” – he glanced at his pocket watch – “one o’clock. If we’re lucky, we’ll be killed outright.” He fingered his cane as if he were wondering how much of a fight he had left in him.

“Lucky? I thought it would be preferable to be taken prisoner.”

He gave her a skeptical look. “Of course.”

If we survive, he’ll be sent to a Kez workhouse. And I’ll be passed around the infantry until I’m sent to a workhouse as well. Unless an officer catches me first. Then I’ll be at his mercy, little more than a slave.

Was that preferable to being killed outright?

Adamat climbed to his feet. The Wings’ field artillery had begun to fire, and even at a quarter mile, the sound shook Nila. She remembered the fighting in Adopest between Tamas’s men and the royalists and the countless sleepless nights she’d had after escaping. This was going to be so much worse.

“The sound gets to me, too,” Adamat said. “Infantrymen might get used to it, but we’re just civilians. Artillery is terrifying.”

“Like Privileged.”

“Yes. Like Privileged.” He examined her out of the corner of his eye.

Nila pretended not to notice. Yes, she wanted to say, I am a Privileged. But I can’t do anything yet.

A distant sound caught Nila’s ear. It was hard to hear beneath the report of the artillery fire, but she knew it immediately when she turned toward the Kez lines. It was the rat-tat-tat of snare drums. The Kez columns, infantry in their tens of thousands, were advancing.

The lump in Nila’s throat felt like she had swallowed a carriage. She’d never been this terrified, not even beneath Vetas’s threats.

She wondered if Jakob was getting along well with Adamat’s children. He was a good boy, still far too young to manage on his own. “Will Faye take care of Jakob after I die?” she asked.

“You won’t die,” Adamat said halfheartedly. After a pause, he added, “She’s not the type to turn out a child.”

Nila gave a soft sigh of relief. “I didn’t think so, but I don’t know her all that well.”

Several moments passed as they watched the Kez continue to advance into the onslaught of artillery fire. “How the bloody pit did I end up here?” Adamat muttered.

Nila didn’t think it was meant to be heard. What was going on in the old inspector’s head? Was he thinking of his children? Or was he trying to think of a way out? Nila knew that’s how she should have been thinking. She glanced toward the lazy fields to their northwest. Maybe she could run for it. Hide in some farmer’s wheat field until nightfall and then strike out toward Adopest.

It was worth a shot. Wasn’t it?

The sight of something moving out there on the plains killed her hasty plans.

“There are soldiers out there,” Nila said. Adamat turned and gazed toward the northwest for a few moments, squinting.

“Cavalry.” He spit in the dirt and turned toward the closest Wings officer, but it was plain they had already spotted the enemy. A ripple of panic went up among the brigade guarding the camp, and officers had to shout to drown it out.

Adran cavalry. Nila had no idea of their number, but they took her breath away. There must have been thousands. Breastplates glittered in the sun and their Adran-blue jackets and red-striped pants stood out against the tan fields of grain. They must have circled around far to the north and were now blocking the only avenue of retreat.

A Wings colonel sent a messenger running for the front lines. The colonel’s face was pale and she gripped her belt with white-knuckled intensity.

Adamat gave a resigned sigh. “I guess that was predictable,” he said. “Looks like at least three battalions of cuirassiers.”

“Cuirassiers?”

“Heavy cavalry. You can tell by the breastplate. Adran cuirassiers armor their horses as well.” Adamat pointed to the Wings’ infantry as they fell into lines behind the waist-high breastworks that were their only defense. “They’ll break a thin bayonet line like this one without too much problem.”

Adamat headed closer to the rear of the camp, where the Wings’ infantry were preparing to make their stand. Nila hesitated for a moment and then followed him.

The Wings’ colonel gave him a glance as he approached. “Civilians should keep away from the front,” she said.

“The front is that way,” Adamat said, pointing behind him.

“Tighten up your men, Cronier,” the colonel shouted. “If a single man runs, I’ll gut him myself!” She looked at Adamat and Nila once more but refrained from commenting.

The Adran cuirassiers drew closer. They were taking their time and it wasn’t until they stopped some half mile away that Nila realized they were likely waiting for a signal from General Hilanska. They would charge the rear right as the Kez charged the front.

Looking back to the south, she noted that the Kez were still advancing at a slow, methodical rate. The Wings’ artillery left scars throughout their ranks, but it seemed to have no more effect than would scratching a giant. They just kept coming on.

On the hill to their northeast, General Hilanska’s infantry suddenly surged forward, advancing at a pace just faster than the Kez.

To the northwest, some three thousand cuirassiers began to advance at a trot.

It seemed to Nila as if she could see her death advancing across those fields. The cuirassiers were really rather splendid, if she considered them without regard to her life. They moved in perfect coordination, the plumes on their horses’ heads and the feathers in their steel helmets blowing with the breeze. She wondered if the ground really was shaking, or if it was just her imagination.

“Over there,” Adamat said, his voice coming out a dry croak, “to the west. Looks like a battalion of Adran lancers.”

She knew that term. More cavalry. Lightly armed.

“They’ll swing around and hit our front lines from the west,” the Wings’ colonel said. She immediately dispatched another messenger to the front, just as the first messenger returned.

The messenger saluted. “Brigadier Abrax orders you to hold your fire.”

“Hold my–” The colonel’s face turned red. “Hold my fire? What the pit is that supposed to mean? Those cuirassiers will crush us!” She sent the messenger back to the front and fumed silently.

Nila tore her gaze away from the advancing cuirassiers. To the northwest, the Adran artillery batteries suddenly belched flame and smoke, their barrels pointed toward the Wings’ encampment. Nila squeezed her eyes shut, remembering the terrible whistling of cannon fire at the royalist barricades, and waited for the horrible sound.

It never came. When she opened her eyes again, she could see the distant figures of the Adran artillerymen busy reloading. “What are they aiming for?” she asked.

Adamat frowned. “I don’t know.”

Another salvo followed, and Nila strained to see where the cannonballs were landing. The artillery seemed pointed straight at her. She had no idea how far a cannon would fire, but why would they fire at all unless they were going to hit something?

“I don’t think they’re firing at anything,” the Wings’ colonel suddenly said. She sounded surprised by her own outburst. “There’s no chance they would overshoot us at that range and…” She fell silent as more of the Adran cannons opened fire.

Nila twisted her head. Was that the sound of muskets? To the south, a low cloud of black smoke hung over the battlefield, and she heard a sudden roar: a hundred thousand voices as the Kez lines charged.

The battle had begun.

It would end soon enough for her. The cuirassiers were still advancing at a trot, but they would charge momentarily. They couldn’t be more than a few hundred yards away. She looked down at her right hand and tried to will the fire to come. She had to go down fighting. She couldn’t let herself be killed like a commoner. Not now. Not after everything she’d been through.

Her hand began to feel warm, but nothing happened. She concentrated harder. Bo had said she was powerful. Surely she could do something. Anything!

A cry went up among the Wings’ infantry, and Nila looked up, her concentration broken, to see that the cuirassiers had suddenly changed direction. The whole group had turned west. The Wings’ colonel watched with mouth agape as the cuirassiers trotted parallel to the Wings’ line, just out of rifle range. The Wings’ colonel barked orders, shifting her men to protect that side of the camp.

The Adran cuirassiers continued on, swinging wide of the camp and then even wider of the Wings’ front lines.

Nila didn’t understand. Were they going to flank the Wings’ front line? Then what about the lancers that Adamat had seen? Where the pit were all these cavalry going?

She didn’t understand until she caught sight of the Adran artillery. Their crews had stopped firing over the Wings’ camp and had readjusted to face south, toward the Kez lines. General Hilanska’s Adran infantry swiveled along with the artillery, moving forward to take up positions not against the Kez front, but beside it.

A messenger on horseback arrived at full gallop and reined in beside the Wings’ colonel.

“Orders from Brigadier Abrax!” the messenger gasped. “Swing your men around and prepare to act as auxiliary to the front lines. The Adran attack was a ruse. General Hilanska is no longer in command of the Adran army and they will fight on our side!”

The colonel gave orders to a nearby captain and then grabbed the messenger’s horse by the bridle. “Who the pit is in charge, then?”

“Why, Field Marshal Tamas. He has returned.”

Nila swayed on her feet, feeling suddenly weak. Tamas was still alive? And he was in command? Maybe, just maybe, she would survive this day.

“Nila,” Adamat said kindly, “your arm is on fire.”

She looked down to find a blue nimbus of flame surrounding her right hand and engulfing her arm to the elbow. She waved her arm to put it out, and then, experimentally, she touched her thumb and forefinger together. The flame sprang back up around her fist.

To the south, an audible crash rose above the artillery and musket fire, and she looked to see that three battalions of Adran cuirassiers had just slammed into the Kez flank.