Swords of the Imperium (Dark Fantasy Novel) (The Polaris Chronicles Book 2) (14 page)

“Ah, that. You know…” She seemed to stumble over her words. “It was to shut you up. I heard that it’s a great way to ‘terminate thoughts,’ as Irulan puts it. She uses it on her lover when he’s being unreasonable.”

Hearing her words only made Taki grimace. He spurred his horse into a canter and barged up the column. Enilna let out an exasperated breath and looked to the sky.

“We’ll support you, sister!”
whooped one of the lancers.
“You and that stupid kid look cute together!”

She laughed and narrowly avoided a clump of manure on the road.

By the time Taki wended his way through the unruly stream of part-time warriors to rejoin the vanguard, the sun slumped low in the west. Riding—even at a slow and comparatively leisurely pace—was still a tiring affair. Secretly, he hoped that there would be time to camp, sleep, and eat. When he drew closer to Lotte and Aslatiel, however, he realized that such pleasantries would not come to pass.

“The bastards were ready for us all along.” Lotte passed the spyglass to Aslatiel, who peered through them at the valley floor in the distance. The bone-white fortress was perched on a colossal spur of brownish-gray rock, only accessible via a steeply inclined path. Arrayed in front of Gyantse Dzong stood the army of the Mandate of Heaven.

“It’s to be expected,” Aslatiel said. “Though I’m surprised how fast the escapees made it across the steppes. We’ll have to fight on their terms. We can still win.”

Taki looked out at the opposing army and silently cursed to himself. Who had been to blame for the smugglers’ escape in the first place? Had he left a weapon too close to the cells? Or somehow misplaced a key?
I only gave that man some pocha for his ailing friend.

Lotte ground her teeth. “More than we estimated. Lots of infantry arranged in forward and reserve squares, a good amount of dismounted archers and riflemen, and the rest light cavalry. Nothing heavy.”

“Suspicious,” Aslatiel said. “Where’s the artillery?”

“I’ll bet they’re up in the fortress. But you can’t take much more than light guns up that path, so we should be able to withstand a barrage. Still, they outrange our own cannon a fair bit. We’ll have ours stay back and engage only enemy trying to flank our main force. Harass their infantry with horse archers and dragoons. Turn our heavies on theirs.” Lotte turned her head to face the woman next to her, who also surveyed the scene through a spyglass. “Rector, you should probably remain here with the supply train.”

“Absolutely not,” Rinchen said with a glare. “I’m in charge of the garrison. What sort of unworthy leader hides in safety while her men are cut down defending her ideals? I won’t be a burden, if you’re worried about that.” She patted a pistol at her waist and the steel cuirass covering her torso. Four burly, well-armed men hoisted her sedan chair until she was slightly over Aslatiel’s eye level. “These are my nephews. They wished to support their aunty in her fight. If we die, it’s going to be glorious.”

“I can’t disagree with you, Rector,” Aslatiel said. “We should make ready for battle. Have your line officers ready the flanks and wings. Tirefire will man the center.”

“Always,” Lotte said.

“Then I’ll be off with the cavalry,” Aslatiel said, and rode down the path to rejoin the columns.

Lotte waved to Taki. “Natalis, where were you all this time?”

“Manning the rear guard, Captain.”

“I hope you weren’t back there flirting with the new girl. Mikkelsen told me you two were petting instead of watching the smugglers.”

Taki’s cheeks reddened. “I wasn’t doing anything with her! And Dassa needs to mind her tongue.”

“I don’t blame you, Natalis. The girl’s young and pretty, but mind you that we’re at war.”

There was no arguing with his captain, who clearly seemed to enjoy piling on the ridicule, along with Hadassah and everyone else.
Why did I stick with this lot, anyway?
He swallowed his pride and nodded.

“You haven’t been in a fight like this before, have you?” Lotte said.

“No.”

“This won’t be like the times we faced Sir Aslatiel and his men. You survive by staying close and covering your neighbor’s flanks. In turn, she will cover yours. If she dies, you die. And try not to brain yourself on a pike shaft. It’s really embarrassing when that happens.”

“Sounds like death can come from anywhere,” Taki said, and chewed on a cuticle.

“Aye, it can. And that’s what makes an open battle so damned fun.”

“That doesn’t sound fun at all!”

Lotte laughed and set her horse to trot. “Oh, but it is! Otherwise, why would we do it all the time?”

Within two bells, the Fifty-Fourth Suppression Army started its advance. From behind the Mandate lines, a low, mournful horn sounded, and their center started to close the gap. Well-clad in half plate and helmets and wielding axes and picks, they swaggered forward, almost jauntily, and drew to fifty meters. With another note of the horn, the men charged.

Taki tried to slow his breathing as the malevolent human wave edged closer. He shifted his musket on its rest and aligned the smoothness of the top of its barrel with the torsos of the charging rebels. Unnervingly, the musket had no sights to speak of, unlike the pistol holstered at his side. But at this range, perhaps precision wasn’t needed as much as an overwhelming hail of lead. Next to him, Draco and Karma dug their heels in and braced their longarms. They stood at the head of a tercio
—
a square of pikemen fronted by gunners who also served as skirmishers able to blend in and out of the tight-knit spear formation.

“Fire!” Lotte shouted.

Taki squeezed his crude, curved metal trigger. A terrific chorus of gunpowder erupted almost in unison, and the first line of enemy fell convulsing to the ground.

Taki scooted back to allow the second line to step forward and fire. He shifted his musket off its rest and set its butt on the ground before slamming its ramrod down the barrel several times. This served to extract the cartridge casing stuck in the breech, or the next round wouldn’t fire. Cursing the inefficiency of the whole process, Taki plucked the burnt casing off the end of the rod and then slipped a fresh round primer-first into the muzzle. With another push of the ramrod, the musket was ready to fire again. In the time he’d taken to reload, he could have fired off an entire magazine from his Temple gun. But Lotte had warned him specifically to conserve his ammunition. Open-field warfare was a trial of endurance, not strength.

The gap closed to twenty meters. Taki scooted forward, braced his musket, and let off a hurried potshot that felled no one.

“Muskets withdraw! Center to the ready,” Lotte commanded.

Around Taki’s head, pike shafts descended in synchrony and, to his relief, did not bash him or his companions in the skull. The charging rebels, flush with rage and hormones, could not stop their momentum. They hit the bristling mass of spear points and died to the sound of crunching metal and squelching flesh.

Engaging the enemy at this distance with a musket was futile now. Taki turned and passed his weapon to a man behind him and drew his saber. Rebels ducked under the row of pikes and slashed at the shafts overhead.

Lotte slapped Taki on the back. “Counter them!”

Taki let out a shout and shuffled forth with his blades at the ready. He swatted a sword thrust away and slashed his saber at his attacker to open the man’s arm near the shoulder. The rebel howled and tried to shoot him with a muzzle-loading handgun, only to be run through.

To Taki’s left, Draco crouched and darted toward the fighters, tackled one of them to the ground, and stabbed the man in the neck. Karma followed and sunk his short swords into a pair of chests. Screams gave way to gurgles and finally silence. Overhead, the pikes continued to thrust and clank against armor and squish against flesh.

“Give me some cover,” Taki shouted to his companions. “I’ll blast ‘em all!”

He knelt and placed his saber on the ground and then closed his eyes. Power welled within, and he channeled it to his hands. Then, he pointed his palms at the rebels and let the surging energy loose. A concussive blast of freezing air lanced forward and blew a channel in the middle of the packed enemy. Shattered men, armor, and weapons flew through the air, and a cry of panic sounded from the line.

In an instant, the attackers wavered and fled. Taki let out a breath from his nostrils, picked his saber up, and stood. As he did, his vision blurred, and he dug his point into the ground just in time to avoid falling. Elsa’s words about getting winded easily in these lands came back to him now.

“Ha! That’s our wizard for you!” Draco said, and clapped Taki on the back.

“I’m the
best
wizard,” Taki said, and wiped away a line of spittle from his face. He stared at the carnage before him and whistled. Despite his earlier misgivings, Lotte’s words from earlier sounded truer than before. Repulsing the charge had been unexpectedly exciting—even enjoyable.

“Give us back our daughters, you sons of bitches!”
rang out from the left and then gave way to the thunderous hoofbeats of a cavalry charge.

Taki spun and was nearly knocked aside by the horses. Behind him, Lotte cursed and fired her gun in the air in a vain attempt to signal a halt.

“What the hell?” he shouted.

“Our flankers are
charging without orders
!” Lotte said. “Hold the line, damn you!”

The remnants of the rebel charge dissolved under an onslaught of arrows and lances.

“Wait,” Taki said. “Do you suppose it’ll work? Should we capitalize on the momentum?”

Lotte shook her head.

From the top of the outer wall of Gyantse Dzong came flashes and puffs of smoke. The wayward riders and their horses were tossed in the air as cannonballs skipped along the ground. Horses fell apart, and human torsos popped like overripe grapes between teeth. The survivors of the rashly executed charge stopped in their tracks and disappeared under a river of rebel lancers.

“Shit. What now?” Taki asked. White smoke erupted from the walls of the fortress.

“They’re shelling us! Get down!” Lotte bellowed.

A ball whizzed by Taki’s head and smashed into the pikemen behind him. Men spun in the air like figurines batted aside by a child. Other balls hit on both sides, blowing torsos apart and taking off limbs as they bounced. The phalanx reeled. More than anything, Taki wished to turn tail and run, but the sight of his captain standing firm in the face of pounds of lead slinging along shamed him into stillness.

Hadassah was the first to notice the enemy cavalry stirring. “Horsemen!”

Lotte waved her baton. “Make square!”

With surprising deftness, the pikemen rushed to form a hollow square with each side three deep. Spearheads poked out from all sides, ready to deter any cavalrymen foolish enough to charge headlong into the mass. The rebel lancers made a disciplined split before they would have hit the front row of spears. They circled the square closely and threw lances or fired short muskets into the gaps.

Taki picked up a musket and fired at one of the lancers. The man slumped and slid from his horse, but another rider managed to swat the pikeheads aside and bore down to spit Taki through the chest. He tried to swing the barrel around to fire, only to remember that it could not.

Lotte whirled and buried her flamberge deep into the charger’s chest, and the lance went wide. The beast groaned and went down but wrenched the massive sword away. She drew a side sword and stuck the struggling rider in the throat.

“Thanks, Captain,” Taki said, and tossed the musket aside in disgust. He wiped the grime from his brow and drew his pistol. It was no longer time to skimp on ammunition, especially because the ground had started to shake. To the front of the tercio was an enemy pike phalanx with its points lowered. They inched forward as a gut-churning wall of sharpened steel.

“A push! Make a push!” Lotte shouted. Pike shafts leveled themselves around her to face the oncoming tide of iron points. She dropped her shield and drew a main gauche.

The two phalanxes edged delicately toward each other in a grim mirror of courtship. Opposing spear tips glided and clinked against each other for a brief moment and then thrust in earnest.

Taki clenched his jaw and drove forward again with his companions in tow. He hacked and stabbed and shot at rebels who tried to split him with axes and impale him with rapiers. Pikemen on both sides dropped broken shafts and drew muzzle-loading pistols. A ball smashed against the side of Taki’s helm but did not penetrate it. The divot made by the bullet pressed uncomfortably into his scalp, so he tore the helm off and tossed it into an attacker’s face to smash the man’s nose.

In the corner of his vision, he saw the rector take a round to her chest. Rinchen gasped and spat crimson and thick pink chunks. A returning horseman trampled one of her nephews and tried to lance her, but she fired a round into his face, and he fell from his mount. Taki wanted to help but knew he could not. A Mandate fighter leapt at him while he was distracted and almost knocked the wind from him. They rolled for a while before Taki managed to wedge the muzzle of his Herstal against his enemy’s gut and pull the trigger. The rebel rattled and croaked in Taki’s ear for a few moments and then moved no more.