Sovereign (54 page)

'In a separate message,' Savis said, pulling out another note, 'the chancellor stresses that since winter is almost upon us, it may soon be too late to do anything at all with the Great Army and it may have to disperse.'

Dejanus grabbed that note, too, and threw it away without reading it. He put his face close to Savis's and said: 'This army will not disperse because by winter it
will
occupy Sparro. There's time yet!' He swallowed another mouthful of wine. 'By the way, what happened to those supplies that arrived last night?'

'You ordered me to send them to the cavalry reserve.' Dejanus frowned at him. 'The one five leagues south, sir.'

'I thought we were going to use them for the Amanite pickets?'

'We were, sir, originally. But you changed your mind.'

Dejanus frowned. Last night he must have forgotten about the pickets between the Great Army and Sparro. He had trouble remembering all the units under his command and where they were and what supplies they already had and what they still needed.

'Sir?' Savis said. 'Captain Urling?'

'Tell him to stop worrying,' Dejanus said curtly. 'When the enemy moves, he'll see more than dust and birds in the air.'

'Yes, sir,' Savis said, and went to tell Urling's messenger.

Lynan was pulled back into the woods by the scout. 'There, on the rise,' the scout said.

Lynan had to squint, something he was not used to doing. Having Silona's blood coursing through his veins had had some advantages. He could just make out two spear-carrying infantry squatting on top of the rise. They were very still, not talking to each other. They seemed very alert, but their position was too low to see over the woods.

'How many?' he asked.

The scout pointed to a second rise about fifty paces south of the first and no higher. 'Two more on that one,' the scout said. 'Between them is their camp. Maybe two or three hundred light infantry besides the fifty or so we ran across pretending to be scouts.'

Lynan nodded. 'I've seen enough.'

The two slowly retreated back through the woods. Fifty paces west they came across a clearing. Waiting for them were Korigan and Gudon with the horses. Beside them was Akota, one of the oldest chiefs and now in command of a banner made up of Chetts from different clans. Lynan had seen her in combat using a bow he would have trouble even pulling.

'Well?' she asked impatiently.

Lynan took the reins of his horse from Gudon. 'It's time,' he said.

Akota grinned at him, wheeled her horse around and trotted off.

'We had better get to the Red Hands,' Lynan told the others. 'Akota is so excited she is likely to start without us.'

They carefully followed Akota along a trail that wound its way through the woods for another two leagues, eventually emerging onto farmland, now churned up under the hooves of hundreds of horses. Akota's banner was already on the move, and the Red Hands were looking on anxiously. Then they saw Lynan and knew they were not going to be left out of the coming battle.

Captain Urling scowled at the messenger. 'Dejanus said what?'

'That you should stop worrying about nothing. When the enemy moves, you'll see more than dust and birds in the air.'

Urling shook his head. He could not believe his ears. He had fought for Grenda Lear in the Slaver War as a lowly Amanite recruit and worked his way up to commanding his own battalion of light infantry. He
knew
the signs of an approaching army. He
knew
the enemy was on the march.

'So the Great Army is still in camp?'

'It was when I left, Captain.'

'The idiot,' he said under his breath, not wanting anyone to hear his opinion. Morale was low enough without subverting the authority of the commanding general. He thanked the messenger and turned to his second-in-command, another veteran of the Slaver War named Ordt. 'Dejanus is going to need hard proof. We need a prisoner.'

'Our patrols just ain't seeing anyone, Captain. They're seeing plenty of signs, but no enemy as such.'

'A night patrol might have better luck. Send one out this evening, heading northwest where we saw all the dust this morning. They should be able to cover five or six leagues and still get back before daylight.'

Ordt nodded. 'That's fine, sir, but what if they don't find anything either?'

'Then we pull back to the main camp,' Urling said. 'The Chetts are out there. I can feel it in my bones. I'm not going to let them cut us off.'

'The General won't like that.'

'He'll like it a lot more if we bring a prisoner back with us.'

'I'll see to it, sir.'

Ordt turned to go, but Urling grabbed his arm. 'Listen.'

Ordt did, but heard nothing above the normal sound of the camp. There were birds nearby, a flock of them scattering into the sky…

'Something's coming,' he said.

Urling dropped to the ground and put his ear against it. He shot straight back to his feet. 'Form up!' he shouted. 'To your flags! First and second company north of the camp, third and fourth companies south! Quickly!' He pushed Ordt to the south. 'It's cavalry! Put a company on either side of the road. I'll take the north!'

'What happened to our lookouts? And where are our scouts?'

Urling glanced at both the rises. There were no lookouts there now. 'Gone. All gone. Hurry! Take the south!'

There was sudden confusion in the camp, but the Amanites were professionals and soon gathered around their company flags. Urling and Ordt started setting up an ambush when the first riders burst into the valley from the north. Chett horse archers, riding full pelt, their bows already drawn. Ordt quickly ordered his companies to join Urling, but it was too late. The first volley of arrows fell among the Amanites like a hail storm, followed quickly by a second and then a third. The Chetts galloped through the camp and scattered Ordt's force, firing arrows into the fleeing soldiers. When they reached the end of the camp the Chetts dismounted and set up a line running oblique to the road. Ordt managed to gather some of his soldiers together to meet up with the survivors from Urling's group; the captain was not among the living, however.

'The enemy's dismounted,' Ordt told the survivors. 'This is our only chance. We have to charge them. We have spears and shields to their bows; at close quarters we'll slaughter 'em. Keep two paces apart, two lines, one directly behind the other, shields up, and run. Got it?'

Those who heard nodded, terrified. 'Once we're past them, get to the forest and make as best you can for the Great Army. Alright, up now! Companies one and two form the first line, three and four the second.'

Despite the swarm of arrows now falling on them, they managed to form some semblance of two lines, their raised shields protecting them most of the time. A handful fell with arrows in their legs and feet. Ordt raised his spear for the order to charge when he heard more horses behind him. He swore, looked over his shoulder, and saw Chetts not armed with bows but with the short sword, and each hand with a sword was dyed red past the wrist. He knew what that meant, and despite all his years in the army and all the combat he had seen, he still pissed himself.

Lynan was coming.

It was almost sunset. Terin's long shadow, and those of the lancers who lined up either side of him, darkened the ground before them as if they were stretching for the enemy camp. A single rider galloped along the line until she reached Terin, then reined in hard.

'Ager Parmer is ready,' the rider said. 'The Ocean Clan has barred the road north.'

Terin nodded and the messenger manoeuvred her horse behind the line. Terin looked left and right. The lancers were calm, sitting well back in their saddles, their weapons held vertically. Then he looked down on the enemy, who was so confident and so completely unaware.

A shout came from below them. Someone in the camp had finally noticed the cavalry on the rise to their west. Terin saw people stop and look up at him. They would see the lances, assume they were more cavalry come to join them in the reserve. Then they would wonder why they were line abreast, and why they were sitting on the hill and not moving. Then doubt would set in.

Right about now
, Terin told himself. He nudged his mount forward a few paces and drew his sabre out of his saddle sheath. He heard the riders behind him sit straighter in the saddle, gather their reins, change their grip on their lances. He smiled, raised his sabre high enough for the sun's last rays to catch its blade, then dropped his arm and spurred his horse into a walk. The line started moving behind him. He watched the enemy below and could imagine their doubt turning to panic as they recognised the beginning of a charge.

Terin wished he could move to the gallop straightaway, but it was too far for the horses to run and still have the strength and wind they would need for the battle; more, they were going downslope, and experienced riders never forced their horses to gallop downslope.

The enemy were starting to run to and fro, some scrambling to fit saddles on their horses, others disappearing into their tents to get weapons, still others jumping bareback on horses and running away as fast as they could. Most of those fleeing headed south, and they were of no concern to Terin or the Chetts, but many ran north in the direction of the Great Army camp and, Terin knew, Ager's waiting Ocean Clan; none of them would be allowed to get through.

The lancers were off the slope now and Terin eased his mount to the trot and then the gallop. He held his sabre out as Lynan had shown him, with the elbow bent slightly. His blood raced with the sound of his banner charging behind him. Some came abreast as the line started to break, their lances couched low.

A short fence, easily cleared, and then the first of the defenders, some on horseback. Terin swiped at a head, missed, the impetus of his charge carrying him on. Someone with a sword appeared from behind a tent. He swung underarm, catching the side of the man's head. Still at the gallop. An officer on a horse, armed with a straight sword. Terin brought his arm up again, shouted his war cry. His sabre punched through the officer's arm and through to his chest. The impact tore the sabre from Terin's grasp as his horse slammed into the officer's mount and went down. Terin tumbled on the ground, sprung to his feet. His horse tried to scramble up, but its back was broken and it collapsed onto the enemy officer, killing him outright. Terin waited until the horse squirmed aside and retrieved his sabre, finished off the wounded animal, grabbed the reins of the officer's stallion and remounted. His lancers were all around the camp, finishing off scattered groups of defenders. The enemy that could escape had done so; it was too late for the rest.

Dejanus woke with a thumping headache that seemed ready to punch out his eyeballs. He managed to swing his feet out of his cot then had to stop. Savis came into his tent, looked down at the general with his head in his hands.

'I heard you get up,' he said cautiously, wishing now he had stayed out.

'What is it?' he said testily.

'Some of your captains are begging to see you.'

'Whining, are they?'

'They have concerns—'

'Concerns!' Dejanus shouted, and immediately moaned as pain seemed to grip his whole skull and shake it.

Savis blanched and retreated a step. 'About supplies, sir. Some regiments have been without food for several days now. And Captain Harden from Kendra died in his sleep two nights ago and his regiment wants to know which officer is to replace him. And there are representatives from three nearby towns who are here to complain about the army's use of their wells, and to report the theft of several cattle and sheep and several bales of hay—'

'Enough, Savis, enough. Why is everything happening at once?'

Savis did not remind Dejanus that most of the problems had come up over the last several days. He did not relish a tongue-lashing this early in the morning. 'Will you be up and about soon, sir? I can tell those waiting to come back, if you like.'

'Yes,' Dejanus said. 'Later. Tell them to come back later. And get me some wine.'

Savis nodded and left. Dejanus slowly, cautiously, stood up. He had slept in his uniform and it stank of stale wine. He ran his fingers through his hair to straighten it, strapped on his sword, and stood there. What now? How could he organise this army to besiege Sparro when its captains could not even solve their own supply problems? Orkid had not given him an army, he decided, he had given him a rabble commanded by petty officers without initiative. He deserved better than this.

There was an argument outside. He heard Savis's voice try to rise above the hubbub. Another voice rose above Savis's. Then suddenly it all went quiet. After a moment Savis reappeared.

'You had better come out, sir.'

With a low growl Dejanus burst out of the tent. The sudden brightness blinded him and he put a hand over his eyes.

'What's going on?' Dejanus demanded. He looked down and saw a young man in the uniform of the Amanite light infantry. Several captains, pale-faced, hovered around him. 'Don't tell me, another bloody message from Captain Urling. Well?'

'We are attacked, sir!' the Amanite called out.

The words hit Dejanus like physical blows. He actually reeled back. 'No,' he said.

'Yesterday afternoon, General,' the Amanite continued. 'At least a thousand Chetts. We heard them coming and were able to prepare an ambush. We killed many hundreds and drove them off.'

Dejanus did not know what to say. The one thing he truly believed would never happen was that anyone would dare attack the Great Army. The messenger's last sentence sank in. 'You killed hundreds of them?'

The messenger nodded.

'And you drove them off?' There was a note of hysteria in Dejanus's voice.

The messenger nodded again. 'But my captain is afraid they will try again today.'

Dejanus swallowed. 'I see.'

'He suggests this is a wonderful opportunity.'

'He does?'

'He thinks the Chetts will come in even greater numbers, but still only expect to find four companies of light infantry. If you could reinforce us with the other companies of light infantry, and maybe some cavalry, the captain says your victory will be even sweeter.'