Fires of Memory

by Washburn, Scott;

  “Hi,” he said. “How are you doing?”

  “Tired. What’s this all about?”

  “Not sure. Some pre-battle conference, I suppose.” After a short wait, they were all ushered under a large canvas awning. There were chairs and several small tables. Jarren found himself sitting between Lyni and Colonel Krasner. A moment later, General DeSlitz came to the front. All the officers got to their feet and Jarren did likewise.

  “Be seated, gentlemen. We have a lot to go over, so I’ll get right to it. Our scouts report that the enemy is about forty miles away. They have been moving slowly—at least for them—but they could be here as early as tomorrow if they decide to leave their herds behind. I’m hoping we won’t have to fight them until the day after tomorrow, or possibly the next day if we are lucky. But we have gotten to this natural chokepoint, and if they want to get past us, they will have to fight. If we had let them get beyond here, our job would have been that much more difficult.

  “So much for the good news. The bad news is that the enemy is coming at us with two hundred thousand warriors.” A silent gasp went up from the assembly. This was even more than they had feared. They were outnumbered nearly three-to-one.

  “Unfortunately, we are fairly confident those numbers are correct. We had a scouting party that was able to watch them coming out of the forest and get a very good count. So, we have quite a job before us. One other bit of bad news is that for the first time, our scouting parties have encountered fireflies. Only in small numbers, but in several distant locations almost at the same time. It would seem that there is more than one Kaif sorcerer. This is a bit of a surprise.”

  “The Kaifeng sorcerer who we’ve heard of has evidently been training other magickers,” said Hesseran. “I suppose that is to be expected. But evidently they are not too powerful. I don’t think it will effect our plans, General.”

  “I hope you are correct. But now we come down to the last throw. We need to make our final plans and dispositions. As you are all aware, because of the recent disaster, we do not have enough treated gunpowder to arm everyone. Right now, we have approximately two-hundred and fifty thousand musket cartridges that are safe to use. By tomorrow noon, we must have all the untreated cartridges collected and sent to the rear. Make sure your officers and NCOs search the men carefully! A lot of them are going to be tempted to hide extra rounds in their pockets or knapsacks, and we can’t have that. No explosions in our ranks!

  “Now, as for how we use the rounds we have. If we could guarantee that each shot would kill one Kaif, we actually do have enough ammunition,” DeSlitz paused as the officers chuckled grimly. Even Jarren realized that in a typical battle it took dozens or even hundreds of shots for each casualty they inflicted. “But since we can’t, we don’t. With what we have, we can give about ten thousand infantry twenty-five rounds per man. That will give us a solid core. The rest of the infantry will have to use the pikes and crossbows. We have about twelve thousand crossbows. So, to summarize, we will have ten thousand with muskets, twelve thousand with crossbows, and slightly over thirty thousand with pikes. We hope to be able to supply a hundred and fifty cannon with five or six shots each. The cavalry will have no powder at all.”

  “Who will get the powder, General?” asked an officer Jarren did not recognize.

  “We will give the powder to our best musket men.”

  A low murmur, almost a growl, went through the assembly. “Meaning your Zollehans will get it all, I assume?” asked the same officer, his voice nearly a snarl.

  “Zolleran infantry are acknowledged to be the best musket men in the world, sir,” said DeSlitz stiffly. “We need to make every shot count.”

  “I must protest, sir!” said another man, springing to his feet. “You know perfectly well that the rest of the army has had little chance to practice with those crossbows. And against the Kaif horse archers, the pikemen will be useless! If our men know they are just to be sacrificed so your own troops can have enough powder, there will be a mutiny!” A dozen other voices were raised to support the man.

  “Uh oh,” said Krasner loudly enough for Jarren to hear him. Angry voices rang out right and left. DeSlitz was slowly turning red. It went on for several minutes and half the men were on their feet. Finally, one of the general’s aides shouted for quiet and eventually got it. DeSlitz was clearly angry, but in control of himself.

  “Gentlemen, please. I realize this is difficult for you, but I can see no other way. The ammunition we have would only provide four or five rounds for each man if we distributed it equally. The Kaifs are going to see that their magic did not work, and they will advance far more carefully than they did in earlier battles. They will use bows from long range, and our men will quickly use up their ammunition to little use, because we all know they will not hold their fire long if they are being shot at. Then what will they do? Try to swap muskets for crossbows? Or will they just try to charge with the bayonet, break our ranks, and end up shot or ridden down by the Kaifs? No, our only hope is to match the Kaif bows with crossbows and some cannon fire, and try to draw them in on our musketeers—close enough that they can really hurt them.”

  “And in the meanwhile, the poor sods stuck with the pikes will be slaughtered while unable to strike back,” said a general in Laponian uniform. “How long can they stand under that, General? If your infantry are so damn good, give them the pikes and let them die in their ranks!” There were more growls of agreement. The argument began again.

  Jarren sat uneasily in his chair and saw the alliance falling apart before his eyes. On the one hand, he could see DeSlitz’s point, but he could certainly understand the reluctance of the other officers! He was amazed that DeSlitz had waited until the last minute to spring this on them. But then perhaps, if he had told them earlier, the army would have fallen apart earlier. At least now, everyone was already where he wanted them. He just had to keep them here. Or maybe the loss of the powder had stunned him to the point he wasn’t thinking clearly. Jarren knew that he hadn’t been thinking very clearly lately. The treachery had shaken him to his core.

  Not all the officers were arguing. All the cavalry commanders had known they would have no powder and did not protest. A few were even smirking. Colonel Krasner had no expression at all that Jarren could read.

  But what could be done? There was no hope of any significant amounts of new powder. Lyni and the others might be able to make a few hundred more pounds if they had the time, but that would all go to the artillery anyway. If only they had saved the other powder! Jarren had relived the moment a thousand times in his head. Somehow he should have seen what was coming. He should have been able to stop Dominak somehow! It was stupid, but he couldn’t help but feel like this was all his fault. But what was done was done. They still had to find a way to win with what they had. It was so frustrating: two hundred and fifty thousand rounds seemed like a huge number…

  “It is a shame we cannot somehow get the Kaifeng to come very close before our men fire, Colonel,” he said to Krasner. “You could do a lot more damage that way, couldn’t you?”

  “Oh yes, if we could get them to come up to thirty paces before we fired, we could do a hell of a lot of damage. But they won’t come that close when they see the fireflies didn’t do anything. They’ll hang back and pepper us with arrows. And two hundred and fifty thousand rounds might seem like a lot, but those bastards probably have about five million arrows with them. We can’t win a shooting match.”

  “I see.” Jarren fell silent again while the argument raged. If the enemy came very close, they could hurt them even with only five rounds per man. But the enemy would not come close if they saw that the Seekers had not exploded all their powder. But if the men did carry untreated powder, they would all blow up, so it would not matter if the enemy did come close. It was like one of those conundrums the philosophers liked to play with…

  “It is a shame we cannot make the enemy think the Seekers did work and convince them to charge,” he mused. He did n
ot say it loudly, but Colonel Krasner heard him. His head whipped around and he stared at him, wide-eyed. An instant later, he broke into a huge grin.

  “What…?” said Jarren.

  Krasner reached over and ruffled Jarren’s hair in a most unmilitary fashion. “Jarren! You bloody genius!”

  “Huh? What…?”

  But Krasner wasn’t listening to him anymore. He sprang up and shouted at the top of his lungs:

  “General!”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The tent Zarruk now occupied was a far cry from the simple leather abode that could barely hold all the noyens after the victory at the fort. This tent was pure silk, and it had been made by fine craftsmen-slaves in Berssenburg during the winter. It seemed large enough for an entire tribe. Now, all twenty-three kas and their retinues were seated on cushions and being waited on by dozens of lovely slaves. Atark observed the proceedings with growing impatience. The enemy army was only a few miles away. The great battle of their times would come tomorrow. Plans had to be made! But instead of plans, Zarruk was receiving petitions from the people, while the kas ate and drank.

  “Great Re-Ka,” said a man, bowing his head down to the rich carpet, “I come to you seeking aid for the poor people of my clan.”

  “What aid do you seek? And how is that there are poor in the midst of so much wealth?”

  “In our haste to come here and take service with you and join in the great conquest, most of our herd animals died. In the midst of plenty, some of my people face starvation.”

  “How can this be? Did you not receive a proper share of the treasure taken at Gira and Usedam?”

  “Yes, lord, but the gold of this land is… is not any good!”

  “What do you mean?” demanded Zarruk. “Is it gold or is it not?”

  “It seems to be gold, Lord. It feels and looks and tastes like gold, but it not worth as much as the gold back on the plains! I cannot explain it, but a small gold coin could buy a fine horse and saddle there, or a dozen cattle. The same amount of gold from this land will scarcely buy a half-starved goat! We have more gold than we ever dreamed of, lord, and yet we starve!”

  Zarruk looked over to Atark and raised his eyebrows and shook his head. It was true that with gold plentiful and cattle in demand, the price had gone up many-fold. Everyone had noticed it, but no one knew what to do about it. And this simpleton from the plains thought it was the gold which was at fault! Atark nearly laughed out loud. But if Kaifeng were in danger of starving, then it was no laughing matter. Zarruk pondered the question for a few moments and then spoke:

  “Let those who are truly in need see my chief retainer and he will provide for them from my own herds. But let this be a lesson to all! This land is rich and fat—and not just with gold and slaves. Let the warriors gather cattle instead of gold if their families are hungry! Let not our greed blind us to our empty stomachs!”

  “Thank you, Lord! Thank you!” babbled the man as he was escorted out.

  Atark shook his head. Still, this had been the most interesting petition all afternoon. Almost all the others had been disputes over loot, especially the women slaves. When a half-dozen men enjoyed a freshly caught slave for a night, in the morning it was hard to remember who had first caught her and thus had claim. That sort of argument far too often led to bloodshed before the re-ka was ever asked to judge.

  “My lord,” whispered Atark to Zarruk, “we must make our plans for the morrow!”

  Zarruk nodded and instructed the head of his guard to turn away all the rest of the petitioners after the next one was finished. There were cries of disappointment from outside, but all inside the tent ignored them. At least until they heard a guard shouting: “Tomorrow! Tomorrow, you damn fools! By this time tomorrow, you’ll have so many riches and slaves, even you will have nothing to bitch about!” Everyone in the tent laughed at that.

  “My lords, it is time to discuss our plans for tomorrow. The great battle is upon us, and with victory, the entire east will lie helpless before us.”

  “It seems to me, Great Re-Ka, that we have little need for plans,” said Ka-Noyen Ferache. “The enemy is in front of us as before. They draw themselves up as before. And when Atark works his magic, we shall crush them as before!” All the kas cheered.

  “What you say is true, my lord,” said Ka-Noyen Oliark, “but it concerns me. Are the enemy such fools that they will let another army be destroyed? Surely they have heard what became of the Army of Berssia. Do they not realize what Mighty Atark—and our other shamans—can do to them and their weapons? Are they fools—or are we? Are we overlooking something here? Do our enemies have plans we are unaware of?”

  Oliark’s words caused a great deal of muttering, but Atark had wondered those same things himself. Battai was next to speak.

  “Our scouts report the enemy has the same muskets and cannons as before. Our shamans have used the magic against the enemy patrols with success. There seems to be no truth to the tales we heard of the enemy using older weapons. And even if they were true, what of it? We are three to their one. If they try to match us with sword and bow, we shall crush them anyway.”

  “And yet our scouts also report that the enemy once occupied a position some miles to the west of here,” replied Oliark. “A strong position it was, too. And yet they fell back before us to where they are now, and it is not as strong. Their line is twice as long and the ridge neither as high or as steep. Why would they do this?”

  “Because they are afraid of us, of course!” laughed Battai. Some of the other kas laughed, too, but Atark frowned. Why had they fallen back? Surely they would want to defend as short a line as possible. It would allow them to concentrate their men and restrict the mobility of the Kaifeng. But they had fallen back, leaving abandoned campfires and a few fresh graves and three spots which appeared to have suffered large explosions… He feared that Oliark was correct and that the enemy was up to something. But what?

  “It is well that we show some caution,” said Zarruk. “But there is little choice but for us to attack them where they are. To the right is a river with no fords for many miles. To the left is a thick forest where the enemy has many skilled men waiting in ambush. Our own warriors will not enter there. It is clear that we cannot turn the enemy without a great deal of effort. We must attack and destroy them as we did with the Army of Berssia.”

  “They have planted pointed stakes to protect their cannon,” observed another ka. “But our scouts made a foray earlier today and confirmed that there are no pits or traps hidden in the grass in front of their lines to trip our horses. It is like they are inviting us to ride over them.”

  “It does not matter,” said Battai, who had been drinking heavily. “When our shamans destroy their powder, the cannons will be useless. We shall ride down their infantry and slaughter them all.”

  “We must be wary of their cavalry,” said Ferache. “Their scouts only carried a small bit of powder and were little troubled by our shamans’ magic. If their heavy cavalry carries none, then there could be a serious battle.”

  “We outnumber their cavalry nearly ten-to-one!” said Battai. “Let them come!”

  “Very well,” said Oliark. “I council caution, but I agree with the re-ka that there is little else we can do but attack. How shall we order our warriors?”

  A chorus of voices came up from the kas, each demanding a place of honor in the battle formation. It went on for some time before Zarruk cut them off.

  “There is room for five helars in the front line,” he said. “The five helars who were at Berssenburg have earned the right to be there. But I will yield the place of my own personal helar to another. I have gathered enough glory for a lifetime. Let one ka be chosen by lot to fill my place. I and my warriors will stand in reserve and watch the rest of you fight.”

  There was a general clamor of approval from the kas. It was a good and just solution. Atark was personally happy that Zarruk would not be in the forefront of the attack. He was far too important
to risk.

  “And when shall we attack, Great Re-Ka?”

  Zarruk grinned. “Oh, I would think mid-morning is the proper time. We all know how much Atark hates to get up early.”

  * * * * *

  Jarren looked across the dark valley at the campfires of the enemy. There were far more of them than there were stars in the sky. “It’s pretty, isn’t it?” he asked Lyni, who was standing a yard away. “If they were not our enemies I would say that it is beautiful.”

  “It’s terrifying,” said Lyni. She glanced over her shoulder at the fires of their own army. While there were far too many to count, there were not nearly as many as in the Kaifeng camp.

  “I did not think you were ever afraid. I know that I am. I’ve never been in a battle before.”

  “Of course you have. Twice now. You’ve even been shot. By the way, thank you for being so brave and stupid then. Pirat never would have shot me on the dock, but I suppose you didn’t know that. So thank you.”

  “You are welcome—I think.”

  Lyni chuckled but then became serious again. “I am afraid. I think our plan gives us a chance to win, but so much could go wrong.”

  “A great deal will depend on you, Lyni. You really should be resting to regain your strength.”

  “I will have the strength. The weather tomorrow will be calm, and I will have no difficulty doing what I need to. A storm will come tomorrow night, but everyone thinks the Kaifs will attack in the morning. No, I can do my assigned role, but I fear what will come after that. In spite of everything, we could still lose. What then?”

  “I suppose we fight as long as we possibly can,” said Jarren, not too happy to be talking about this.