“Could you tell how they were killed, Lieutenant?” asked Colonel Piskanan, commander of the 52nd, eyeing the hetman warily. The long-haired and mustached Varag horseman made a sharp contrast to the officers. His clothing was rich and gaudy compared to most of the Varags, but he still looked far more like the savage Kaifeng than he did the Berssian soldiers he served. Matt had never had any close dealings with him, and he couldn’t even pronounce his name.
“It seemed like mostly sword strokes, sir. You must understand that the bodies had been dead for at least four days. Between the scavengers and the natural putrefaction, it was not always easy to tell what had killed them.”
“Yes, I can imagine.”
“We did find burn marks on some of the bodies, sir,” said Matt with a grimace of distaste. “That might indicate they were tortured before they were killed.” The Varag commander snarled again.
“Thank you, Lieutenant,” said Gerressan. The brigadier leaned back in his chair and frowned. “Well, nothing like this has happened in almost ten years. We’ve had some word recently that more of the Kaifeng tribes are moving eastward again. Apparently those near the border are growing more audacious. Assuming it is the Kaifeng, of course.”
“Who else?” demanded the hetman.
No one answered. The man was probably correct, of course. The Kaifeng were the only people in any numbers out on the plains. There were a few bands of traders and caravan people who crossed the Kaif, and somehow they had safe passage from the Kaifeng—most of the time. But it seemed unlikely that any of them would slaughter the Varags. Not totally unlikely, though. The Varags would sometimes raid an isolated caravan themselves. Perhaps some batch of traders out for revenge instead of profits? There was even the possibility that it had been done by another band of Varags. Blood feuds within the Varag tribes were not unknown, either. Still, it was most likely the Kaifeng.
“All right then,” said Gerressan. “We might not know all the particulars, but our response is quite clear. Major Macador, I’d like you to send a substantial force, assisted by whatever men the hetman can provide, and make a sweep of the area beyond the pass. Take supplies for at least two weeks. You are to… chastise… any Kaifeng you may encounter.”
“Yes, sir,” said Macador. He immediately turned to his own officers. “Captain Vargos, Captain Deerin, I want your companies for this mission. Captain Vargos, you are the senior, so you will command the force as a squadron.” Both the men nodded. Matt contained a sigh. He had just gotten back after a hard three days in the saddle and now he’d have to go out again for another two weeks. And he did not look forward to the ‘chastisement’ they would have to deal out. It wasn’t a license for indiscriminant slaughter, but controlling the Varags would be difficult. Major Macador had turned to speak to the hetman while Matt was lost in thought.
“How many men will you bring?”
“My people are angry—just as I am. On such short notice? Perhaps a hundred. Maybe more.”
“That should be more than enough,” said the brigadier. “Between the two of you, there will be well over two hundred. Very good. Get your supplies organized tomorrow and you can set out the next day. Terribly sorry about asking you to do this, but you all know the situation. If we don’t punish these scoundrels, it will only encourage them all the more. But perhaps I can make it up to you a bit. Sergeant, have the steward bring wine for all the gentlemen.”
* * * * *
“You’re leaving again already? But you just got back!” exclaimed Kareen.
“I know, but that’s the army. Go where you are ordered, when you are ordered. Just be thankful Phell’s not in my company anymore or we’d both be gone.” Matt’s expression darkened. “And no funny business while I’m away! You two have been getting far too…bold. You’re not married yet.”
“Yes, big brother,” said Kareen with false meekness. Then she smiled and quirked up her eyebrow. “I promise you I’ll still be a virgin when I come down the aisle. Although why you want me to be so different from all the other brides I can’t…”
“Kareen!”
Kareen just rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Men! But you will be gone two weeks? That means you’ll only get back two weeks before the wedding!”
“It might be less than two weeks depending on what we find out there. If we… accomplish our mission sooner than that, we’ll be back sooner. Believe me, I have no desire to be out there any longer than I have to.”
“Hmmpf! You’re just trying to get out of all the work there is to be done beforehand!”
“What work? You’ve got your dress, you’ve got the chaplains, you’ve got the colonel, and you’ve got Phell. What more do you need?”
“What more? There are all the invitations, the food, the flowers, the music, why the list goes on and on!”
Matt blanched. “Uh, sis, just who’s paying for all this? We have exactly forty-seven marks in our savings by my last count.”
“Relax, Matt. Most of it will be donated. The wives of the other officers have pitched in to help us out.”
“Well, that’s a relief. And it sounds like you have plenty of help without me. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get some sleep.”
Kareen watched her brother go into his room and shut the door. Men! They just had no idea of what went into something like this. The wedding was going to be the social event of the year at the fort. Not that that meant a great deal, of course. Fort Pollentia was hardly the social center of the world. She sighed. She would really like to get away from here. It had been all right when she was younger; it had been new and a bit exotic and there had been things that were fun for a child. But she wasn’t a child anymore. She was a woman, soon to marry, and a dusty frontier fort was not where she wanted to raise her children or spend the rest of her life. But there wasn’t much hope of getting away. She sighed again. Louder.
“Is something wrong, Kareen?”
She looked up from her moping and saw Thelena standing in the door to the kitchen. “Oh, just the usual. Wishing we were somewhere else. Anywhere else.”
“Be careful wishing for such things. Sometimes they come true and we find that we did not really mean them.” Karen looked closely at the Kaifeng woman. She had been their servant for four years. Sometimes Karen thought she understood her, and sometimes not. There were times when she would smile and laugh like any of her other friends, but then a curtain would draw across her smile and it would be gone. Kareen did consider her a friend. Once Thelena had gotten used to being here, they had done a lot of things together. They had fun together. Granted, they had to keep up the appearance of servant and mistress when others were around—that was only proper—but Kareen thought of Thelena as more of a sister than anything else.
Certainly not as a slave! She could not believe that one of the Varags had called Thelena a slave the other day when they went down to the market. It was true that she had bought her and it was also true that slavery was not entirely unknown in Berssia. But Thelena was no slave! Was she?
“If…if you could go anywhere you wanted, Thelena, where would you go?” The Kaifeng woman looked started.
“Go, K…Milady?”
“Don’t ‘milady’ me, Thelena. There’s no one else around. Yes, go. If you could leave here and travel anywhere you want, where would it be?"
“I… I don’t know. There really isn’t anywhere I could go.”
“Of course there is! This fort isn’t the whole world. Berssenburg isn’t that far, and then there is the whole east! Navaria, where I come from, is just one of a dozen kingdoms and duchies. And then there are the cites of Ertria and… Oh! How I wish we—all of us, you, me, Phell and Matt—could all go somewhere far away. Somewhere near the ocean. It’s been four years since I’ve seen the ocean, and I miss it terribly.”
“I have never seen the ocean. I suppose I could go somewhere as your servant. There is nowhere I could go alone.”
“Well, ladies should never travel alone anyway…”
“After… after Phell and I are married. Maybe… maybe we could find a husband for you.”
“What man would ever want me as a wife? As a slave, perhaps, but never as a wife.”
“You are not a slave!”
“No? You bought me. The law says I am your slave. I suppose if you bought a man-slave you could force him to be my husband.”
“Thelena! What a terrible thought! We need to find someone you can love and who will love you back.”
“Love is something for the masters. Now please excuse me, Milady; I have to get your brother’s shirts washed and packed.”
* * * * *
The squadron rode out just after dawn. A hundred and twenty dragoons, followed by forty pack mules and their drivers. The Varags swarmed around the column. Matt guessed that there were at least a hundred, but they kept no order and it was hard to count them. It was an impressive force, all in all. No artillery, but the guns could not hope to keep up on the roadless paths they would be following. Still, it was more than enough to handle any Kaifeng they were likely to encounter. They usually traveled in groups with fewer than a hundred warriors. Lots of horses and cattle and women and children, but not many warriors.
It promised to be a warm day. It was early summer and the winds blowing off the plains were hot and dry. This land only seemed to have the two seasons, summer and winter, separated from each other by two shorter periods of rain and mud. It got very hot in summer and bitterly cold in winter. It was a hard climate on men and animals. Matt noticed how almost all of the troopers had adapted their dress to the harsh realities of where they served. The tunics, breeches, and tricorns had nearly vanished, packed away for dress formations. Most men wore pantaloons, short cotton jackets, and straw hats to keep the sun off. It was all practical, but very unmilitary in Matt’s opinion. He was still wearing the regulation uniform, although it was an old and worn set, much patched and mended over the years.
The column went down the road from the gate and splashed across the river, no more than a muddy creek this time of year, then up the other bank and onto the dirt track that led west. An hour later, a turn of the road concealed the fort from view. The Plains of Kaif lay ahead. Captain Vargos set a demanding pace and the column reached Hessley Well just before dark. There was little trace of the horror they had found here only a few days before. The troopers of the regiment made their camp, while the Varags performed some sort of ritual over the graves of their fallen comrades. It seemed to involve a lot of wailing and chanting that went on far too long for Matt’s tastes. He could see that most of the men wished they would just shut up so everyone could sleep, but no one, not even Captain Vargos, made the suggestion to them. Matt was paying one of the troopers to act as his servant during the expedition. The man could not cook worth a damn. Matt rolled himself in his blankets with a grumbling stomach and the Varags’ wailing in his ears.
The next morning dawned much as the previous one had. The men broke their fast and then packed up for the day’s march. After refilling their canteens and water skins, they mounted their horses and moved off. Some of the Varags were skilled trackers and they managed to find the traces of the ambushers’ trail in the tall grass. It was very faint and the Varags doubted they would be able to follow it for long. But it did give them a direction to start their search. The captain gave the commands and the hunt began.
An hour of riding brought them down off the last foothill and onto the plain proper. The grass rippled off to the horizon; it was a land without boundaries or landmarks. Only the sun and the stars and the hills behind them served as guides. Matt suspected that the hills would soon be left far behind.
And so they were. Day after day went by and they were swallowed up in an endless and featureless sea of grass. By day, they saw nothing except a few circling hawks and eagles, and by night, the vast, star-flecked dome of the sky looked down on them. The immensity of it all made their force of soldiers seem like a trifle. Matt had been out here before, of course, and for longer rides. Once a year, the major took the bulk of the regiment on a long sweep through the plains, all the way to one of the other forts guarding one of the other passes, and then back again. Those rides, though strenuous, were always a treat. A chance to visit another fort, see another pass. There would be balls and dances, too. A break in the routine.
This ride was routine. In spite of the serious nature of their mission, it was like the dozens of other patrols Matt had made. He would be glad to get back to the fort. The only good thing about it was that there was a loosening of the normal formality of the fort. At night, the officers would sit around a fire to drink and talk.
“Captain, is there any chance we’ll ever get transferred away from that damn fort?” asked Matt one evening.
“Wassamatter, lad?” said Captain Deerin, who, as usual, had already had a bit too much to drink. “Ya don’t like our bloody damn fort?”
“Not enough to want to stay there the rest of my life, no, sir.”
“Well! I don’ blame you! I hate the stinkin’ place, too.”
“As for our chances,” said Captain Vargos, carefully, “I can’t really say, Matt.” Vargos had probably had as much to drink as Deerin, but you would never have known it. “There’s no real reason for them to send us anywhere else. No wars with the eastern kingdoms at the moment. And from what I hear, they can’t supply the troops they already have facing those heathen monotheists down south. No place to send us except another garrison. No reason for them to bother.”
“They should send those bleedin’ worthless Royal Guard regiments out here and let us spend a few years in the capital drinkin’ and whorin’!” exclaimed Deerin, getting a round of laughter.
“But can’t the colonel do something?” asked Matt after the laughs had died down. “Can’t he use his influence to…?”
“Influence!” snorted Deerin. “If the bas…er, if our esteemed commander had any influence d’ya think we ever would have been traded out here in exchange for a buncha tapestries in the first place? Yer dreamin’, lad!”
Matt nodded and took a drink from his own mug. Captain Vargos was sharing some of his wine, and it was a lot better than the stuff he had brought along. As he thought about Deerin’s words he got more and more depressed. Could they really be stuck out here forever? Stuck out here until the regiment crumbled away like soft stone exposed to years of sandstorms? Desertion, sickness, and the rare battle casualties would slowly bleed them away. They had gotten a few new recruits from the locals, but only a few. There were only about four hundred and fifty men left now. What would it be like in ten years?
He had always hoped to become a soldier. Back in Navaria he had hung around the barracks, even skipped school to watch the guards change at the Elector’s Palace. His father had despaired of making him a cleric or a barrister. Finally, on his death bed, his father had purchased a commission for Matt. It had seemed like a dream come true. A month later, his father was dead. Two months after that, he was shipped off to the edge of the world. And now he was a soldier. A professional soldier. Be careful what you wish for. After a while, he excused himself and went to sleep.
On the next day, they reached the far point of their patrol. They had seen no one. Captain Vargos turned them around and headed back east, toward home. Around midday, Matt saw one of the Varag scouts galloping toward the column. He urged his horse up to where the captain was so he could hear the report. Vargos halted the column as the man rode up.
“Lord! Kaifeng! To the south! Four, maybe five, leagues south!”
“Well, at last,” snarled Deerin, who had his usual hangover. “Let’s go kill some of the bastards and get this done with!”
“No! No! Lord,” said the scout. “Too many! Many, many Kaifeng!”
“How many?” demanded Vargos.
“Ten tens-of-ten, at the least, Lord. May
be more. I could not get too close…”
“I’ll bet you couldn’t!” snorted Deerin, who obviously thought little of the report and less of the scout.
“Truth, Lord!” said the scout with a trace of anger. “They have many times our strength.” The captain scowled. If this was true, then at least a dozen clans had gathered together. Not an unprecedented thing, but very unusual.
“Which way are they riding?” asked Vargos.
“East, Lord. They are… are…” The man held up both hands with the palms facing each other. “Like this! They move as we do.”
“Paralleling us,” said Vargos.
“So what do we do?” asked Deerin. “If we go at them, they’ll break, Var. They’ve got no stomach for a real fight.”
“I don’t know…” Vargos paused for a moment to think, staring off at the endless horizon. “They have to know we are here. I don’t like this. It smells.” Another moment and he had made his decision and looked back at his officers. “We’ll keep going the way we are. As long as they follow, we can choose our own time to fight. Against a force that size, I’d prefer to do it a bit closer to home.”
“They’ll run off in the night and we’ll lose our chance, Var. Mark my words.”
“All right, I do. But those are my orders. Let’s get moving.”
The bugle blew the advance and the column was in motion again. Matt went back to his place. He ordered his men to keep closed up.
They rode all day and Matt’s eyes were constantly drawn to the south. There was never anything to see, but he wondered what was just beyond that horizon.
* * * * *
“They have made their camp a half day’s ride to the north, my lord,” said the scout. “Six score of the Whitecoats and five of the Varags. They keep a careful watch.”
“Well done. You may go. Eat and rest for tomorrow,” said Zarruk, the Noyan of the Gettai Tribe. The man left the tent and Zarruk turned to the man sitting by his side.
Fires of Memory Page 6
