Imager’s Battalion (42 page)

Skarpa smiled wryly. “I guess I’d better wait a while and then send a message saying that because the effort of destroying two regiments left the imagers unconscious or otherwise incapacitated, you moved them to safety, and it took a while to determine the status of Fifth Battalion and the regiments. By then, hopefully, he’ll decide on an attack tomorrow.”

“Your way is better,” said Quaeryt. “Maybe I’m just too tired to be tactful.”

“He’ll know what we think,” replied Skarpa. “This way he just won’t be able to prove it. He’ll be just as unhappy.”

“His men weren’t the ones dying.”

“No … but he’s lost more troopers than we have. More than two regiments worth in dead and wounded. That’s what I heard from the dispatch couriers.”

Quaeryt frowned. “There are more and larger towns on the north side of the river. That’s why he needed a bigger force.”

“He’s losing a greater proportion than we are. That’s because … he says … he doesn’t have Fifth Battalion.”

“He didn’t want us. Even without Fifth Battalion, you wouldn’t be losing as great a proportion as he is.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Skarpa sighed. “He thinks if a trooper can move, he can fight. He doesn’t understand. Not sure I would if I hadn’t seen what happened to you.”

“Tell him imagers are like blades. When they’re pushed too hard, they break. Rest can reforge them. Trying to make them fight when they’re broken destroys them beyond hope of reforging.” Quaeryt massaged his forehead again.

“He
might
understand that.”

Quaeryt saw Skarpa had his doubts. “They’re like muskets when the powder’s gone.”

“I’ll think of something.” Skarpa paused. “Where are they?”

“Sleeping … or lying on a bed so tired they can’t move.”

“Your head is pounding, and you have trouble seeing, don’t you?”

“Something like that,” Quaeryt admitted.

“Might not be a bad idea if you turned things over to Zhelan and got some sleep.”

“I mostly have, but I thought I’d better wait to see what you had to say.”

“You’ve heard. Go get some rest.” Skarpa stood.

So did Quaeryt, not quite so quickly or vigorously.

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.