by N. C. Reed
“Get us on the move,” he nodded. It took about ten minutes for the long column to get moving good, brigades shaking down in marching order, but then the entire division was moving, and as Wilbanks had desired, doing so just as the coming dawn made it almost light enough to see.
If nothing went wrong, they would hit Nasil before lunch.
~*~
“We're mounted and ready, sir,” Whit reported. As senior brigade commander, he had been the natural pick as Pierce's second, but Pierce tried not to lean on him over much as he was also still the commander of the 31st Mounted Infantry.
“Very well,” Pierce nodded. “Move out!” he called as he moved into line with Whit and a few other officers, enlisted and aides. It took a few minutes but over the last two weeks or so the various commands had learned to work together much better and their shakedowns were going quicker. It still took longer than a unit their size should, but for a combined command of several it wasn't bad, Pierce decided. He was pleased with them.
Ten minutes after dawn, they were on the move, and on the right side of the river. And almost finished playing catch up, too.
~*~
Stone had commandeered a small house on the northern side of the city as his quarters for the night, pitching his bedroll on the floor. He had slept reasonably well despite his anger and self-chastisement over his various and sundry mistakes. He was about to burn the Soulan Capitol to the ground come morning, after all. Surely that would make up for some of the problems they'd endured.
Just before first light his eyes had popped open as his stomach began to cramp. He just managed to make it to the chamber pot in the small bedroom before his bowels erupted. As he sat there, he noted that he was chilled and put it down to a cool morning, but as he wiped his forehead he came away with sweat.
A cold sweat? From what? What the hell?
As his stomach went through another bout of anger at him, Stone recalled Baxter's reluctance at eating the stolen beef the night before and groaned. The little bastard had been right after all-
That thought was cut off as the urge to vomit suddenly hit and left him looking for something to use as a bucket.
It's going to be a long day, he thought even in the midst of his misery. I wonder how many of my troops are sick as I am?
~*~
A lot of them. Most of two divisions worth in fact.
Weir and Blake had held no reservations about the beef taken from the southern stockyard and had eaten hardy along with the majority of their men and their commanding general. Both were now in a similar position to that commanding general, stuck on a toilet and puking into a bucket.
Their men were taking refuge wherever they could, having erected no temporary latrines for what was supposed to be a one night camp. Men scurrying everywhere that morning had been forced to drop trousers in the best available spot, less they embarrass themselves and render their uniforms unwearable, or at least their undergarments.
Fully two-thirds if not more of both 1st and 2nd Division were unfit for duty as the effects of the tainted beef ravaged the troops of those two commands along with most of the command staffs and the commanding generals as well. Men were literally forced to stay in a crouch as they would barely finish with one bout of misery before another hit. Add to that the effect of having to also throw up as they had to squat to relieve themselves and you had a large number of very miserable men indeed.
Baxter had to ride hard rein on his men who were laughing outright at the others suffering from such malady. They had been plenty pissed at their own general the night before, with many muttering threats against him under their breath as they turned in without having the promised beef that the other divisions had shared.
This morning however, seeing that their general had been right in refusing to allow them to partake of meat he suspected to be tainted, they were once more loyal soldiers to their general and deriding the troopers from the other commands for not having someone as smart as Baxter commanding them.
Baxter finally ordered his brigade commanders to start busting anyone found stirring such trouble back to private and assign them to help clean up the mess. Hearing that, the harassment stopped, though they continue to joke among themselves. Baxter said nothing about that, as he decided they had to let go of their humor somehow.
Seeing the state of their men this morning made Baxter very glad he had convinced Stone not to burn the town the previous evening. The buildings gave at least some of the men cover to cower behind as they wondered if they would live out the morning or not.
~*~
“Looks like a fun time in the Nor camp this morning,” Whip Hubel grinned. “Think they ate something what didn't agree with 'em.”
“I had heard that myself,” Memmnon smiled as he and Whip shared a small breakfast on the balcony overlooking the courtyard. “Philo outdone himself there,” he added.
“Bunch of right sneaky people 'round here,” Whip nodded, chuckling. “They 'll prob'ly still burn the city as much as they can, Sire, but they gonna pay for it and pay hard, looks to me like.”
“Please, Whip,” Memmnon looked pained. “When we are alone, call me Memmnon.”
“I'll give it a try,” Whip promised.
“How are things on the walls?” Memmnon asked, ignoring the question he really wanted to ask.
“She's fine,” Whip answered it anyway. “Little mouthy, but that's normal for her,” he grinned. “Think she's not as impressed with it as she thought she would be,” he added after a minute.
“I am relieved she is well,” Memmnon sighed. “I tried very hard to get her to remain here with me, or at least not to go on that wall. She would not have it.”
“Have to learn to let her be her, son,” Whip told him gently. “Reckon I done the best I could raisin' 'er, but she's as wild as a deer, that one, and free as the wind. Give her time and she 'll like as not come around to your way o' doing things, for you if no other reason. But don't expect her to go changin' all to once like. It won't happen. And all it does when you try to make her do something or not is set her dead on doin' or not whatever it is, even if it's the last thing she does do.”
“That much I have learned on my own,” Memmnon said dryly. “Nor do I want her to change, least of all for me. I just. . .I did not want her in harm's way,” he shrugged. “I desired her to be safe. I have no qualms of her serving, or I would not have asked her to train the women archers. I just preferred she not be on the wall. I refuse to think I was wrong in that,” he said stiffly.
“Ain't no wrong in a man wantin' to protect his woman, son,” Whip assured his son-in-law to be. “You ain't done nothing wrong, and don't let her convince you ya have, either. But you can't expect her not to go and be and do. She's done it all her life so far, and I've rarely said no to her cause she ain't never really wanted to do nothing wrong. How you handle her, well, that you'll have to figure out on your own,” he smirked slightly.
“Thank you so much,” Memmnon's voice grew even drier if possible.
~*~
“We should probably move those bodies,” Winnie suggested. She was standing on the walkway over the main gate into the palace fortress. Below them were over one hundred bodies of Norland troopers who had fallen in the aborted attack/pursuit to the palace. They were already swelling in the heat, and would no doubt begin to smell soon as well as attract scavengers.
“No,” Chad shook his head slowly. “Be nice to have them gone I admit, but not with half an army within sight of us. If the enemy wants to come and collect them we 'll allow it, but we won't be going outside these gates until and unless our reinforcements arrive. And even then, moving bodies will not be our priority.”
“It's going to smell,” Winnie objected. “I don't want to smell that.” Winnie was becoming used to getting her way and meeting resistance made her want to hammer at it.
“Occupational hazard, Miss Hubel,” Chad was unsympathetic. “This is what war is like.”
Winnie had a sullen look on her face at th
at reply, but didn't push the issue. She assumed that Chad had learned of her desire to participate in the fighting and was using this as a sort of 'I told you so' moment for those who had told her repeatedly that combat was no place for a woman.
“I haven't seen any movement outside their camp,” Hildebrand remarked. “I would have expected them to be up looting the town by now.”
“Well, lets not look a gift horse in the mouth,” Chad shrugged. “Maybe they're just getting off to a slow start.”
~*~
Stone finally managed to stagger out of his temporary quarters, disheveled and in need of a bath. All it took was a simple look around to see that he was far from the only victim of the tainted beef they had enjoyed for supper.
“Repo. . .report!” he stammered, looking for his aide or anyone else who could let him know where things stood.
“Morning General,” Baxter was calm but obviously not sick. Stone looked around him and saw troopers, all wearing Baxter's insignia, trying to help those who were sick.
“Morning?” Stone trued to growl but couldn't. “What the hell's good about it?”
“Didn't say good morning, sir,” Baxter shook his head. “Just morning. How are you feeling?”
“How the hell do you think I'm feeling you jackass!” Stone shot back.
“Judging by everyone else, you're not feeling overly well,” Baxter shrugged. “My men are doing what they can to take care of the sick and are pulling all the guard duty for now. Also assisting with the horses. A good majority of both 1st and 2nd Divisions are laid low by whatever ails you, sir. Neither can muster anything like a single full brigade that is fit for service.”
Stone wanted to scream at the young general. He had warned them the beef was off and no one listened. He had every right to be smarmy this morning, but he wasn't. He was doing his job and being efficiently military and Stone hated him for it.
Hated him.
“Have some of your men get our horses saddled and ready,” Stone ordered as briskly as he could. “And have a couple regiments begin firing the city. I want this entire place in flames as we ride out of here.”
“Sir, I must advise against that,” Baxter tried again. “If we burn their capitol, their Royal City, it will ignite a hatred that will make them fight all the harder. Let us burn the militarily important buildings and leave the rest. That action will be understood for what it is; a smart military move.
“I'm not interested in your advice, Baxter,” Stone snapped. “You have your orders, so get to them!”
“Yes sir,” the younger man sighed.
~*~
“They're going to burn the city,” Stang said bitterly. “We're stuck here unable to stop them and they're going to burn the city.”
“We can rebuild it, Colonel,” Memmnon sounded far calmer than he felt. Beneath that calm exterior he was furious. Never had Soulan stooped so low as even to invade the north, let alone destroy their treasures. The Imperials had no such compunction it appeared.
“Schools, libraries, hospitals, none of those are of any military significance,” Stang shook his head. “This makes no sense. They have to know this will incense our people.”
“Then we will stoke that fire and keep it burning, Colonel,” Memmnon remarked. “And they will pay.”
~*~
“Schools, hospitals, libraries are off limits,” Baxter told the colonel whose brigade he had selected to carry out the burn order. “If they get caught in the conflagration that's one thing, but I will not be a party to it otherwise, and neither will men under my command. Understood?”
“What about General Stone, sir?” the colonel asked. “He won't be pleased.”
“He's too busy shitting himself to death to care,” Baxter said coldly. “Had he listened to me he and the rest would be hale and hearty this morning like we are, and no one the worse for it. Now go on and get started. We need to be riding out of here as soon Stone and the rest of those idiots can sit a horse. I'm sure our speed will be cut to nothing with them stopping every mile to find a tree as it is. We can't afford to linger here any longer with so many of our men unable to fight. We're lucky not to have faced them before now. Which reminds me; keep scouts well out between us and them. If they get even a hint of how bad off we are, they'll attack for sure. And while our men could stand it, most of the rest cannot.”
“Yes sir,” the colonel saluted and rode off to brief his men. Baxter watched him go, convinced he had made the proper call. The last thing he would be remembered as was the man who destroyed a school or library, or most especially a hospital.
And Stone be damned if he didn't like it.
~*~
“Smoke in the distance sir!”
Wilbanks had not been looking at the horizon, but did so now as his aide pointed. Sure enough there were a number of column of gray smoke making their way into the air, just about where-
“Coming from Nasil, sir,” his aide supplied. “They're burning the city.”
“We're no more than an hour out,” Wilbanks said. “We'll pick up the pace. Maybe we can get there before they've destroyed it all.”
~*~
“Smoke,” Whit said, pointing west. West toward-
“Nasil is burning,” Pierce sighed. “I have completely failed now. I estimate we're no more than an hour out. That sound right to you?”
“According to the scouts, yes sir,” Whit sounded angry.
“Then lets tarry no longer,” Pierce ordered. “The ground here is better for movement so we will take advantage of that. Pick up the pace and let us see if we can save at least some of the city!”
~*~
Stone managed to mount his horse with difficulty, but he still did it unaided, which was more than many of his command could claim. He shook his head wearily as he contemplated how this would look. Even with the damage to the Soulanie ruling city, there was no way Wilson would view this as anything but a failure. Not to mention laughing at his men and himself for their sickness.
Silas Weir had managed to get mounted and made his way over to where Stone sat waiting for the rest to be ready.
“Guess I'll have to stop making so much fun of Baxter, huh?” he tried to smile but it came out as a grimace. “I don't know that I've been this sick before,” he admitted.
“I've felt better myself,” Stone replied. “Damn Soulanies left diseased cattle for us to steal and eat, damn them. They had to know this would happen.”
“Not like they owed us a warning” Weir shrugged. “We are invading their country.”
“Are you on their side?” Stone demanded.
“You know better than that,” Weir shot back at once. “But if they were inside the Empire, would we not do anything and everything we could to stop them? To kill them? If we would do it, we can't expect them to do less, can we? That's how we get caught like this and surprised.”
Stone didn't have a ready reply for that, but nodded his understanding as Weir's words made sense. It didn't make him feel any less disposed toward the people of this city, or want them any less dead, but he acknowledged that yes, were the circumstances reversed the Empire would overlook nothing in an attempt to repulse their invaders.
“Well, we'll see how well they do with this city in ashes,” he finally said bitterly. “Are your men mounted?” he asked Weir.
“As many as will be leaving,” Weir nodded. “Many of them are too sick to ride. We'll have to leave them here. Some of them may not live out the day anyway. Whatever was wrong with those damn cows has hit some men harder than others, that's for sure.”
“Don't leave a single man we can get across a horse,” Stone ordered. “Get them on a horse if we have to drape them across the saddle and tie them to it. We've lost too many as it is.”
“Yes sir,” Weir nodded and rode back to where his men were trying to prepare the division to move.
Blake rode up next, looking pale but otherwise much better than either Weir or Stone.
“I've got less than one briga
de's strength able for duty, sir,” he said tiredly. “The rest couldn't fight their way into a brothel, let alone accomplish anything inside. Be lucky if we don't lose some of them before the day's out, to be honest. Worst dysentery I've ever heard of, let alone seen.”
“Get your men mounted as best you can,” Stone ordered. “I've given Weir the same orders. We're leaving as soon as we've got everyone on a horse. Baxter's men are okay and they'll be helping. He's also setting fire to the city. I want us out of here within the hour. We're weak and vulnerable now thanks to that damn meat.”
“We'll be ready,” Blake promised.
~*~
“I don't think they're burning everything,” Chad mused. “Just select buildings so far.”
“Fire will probably spread and get the rest,” Hildebrand remarked sadly. “They know it, too,” he added.
“Could be,” Chad nodded. “But I'm seeing a lot of men barely able to sit a saddle,” he added. He lowered his glass and looked at Hildebrand.
“You thinking what I think you're thinking?” Hildebrand tried to keep the excitement from his voice.
“I think so,” Chad grinned. “What say we ride out and knock a few of them out of those saddles?”
“Hell yes!”
~*~
“What the hell do you think you're doing?” Stang asked as he noted Chad's men saddling horses. They had already drawn lances from the palace armories.
“We're about to go and see just how sick those Imperials are,” Chad replied calmly. “Looks like most of them are barely able to sit a horse at the moment. With their able bodied troops mostly off burning the city, this is a good time to hurt them. We aim to do just that.”
“No, Colonel, I can't allow that,” Stang was shaking his head. “The protection of this fortress has to take precedent over everything else.”
“Well, Colonel, that's your job,” Chad replied, no trace of anything in his voice. “Yours and Moore's I suppose,” he amended after a second of thought. “But I don't answer to you, Colonel,” Chad smiled. “I answer to two people, neither of which is here. And our number one marching order is to kill Nor anywhere we find them, any way we can. From the Marshal's own mouth. And right now is a good chance to kill several of the bastards and maybe, just maybe, stop some of the damage they're doing.” He swung into his saddle as Hildebrand gave the order to mount up.
