by Chris Bunch
I do not know, and would very much like to, who was listening to what happened. Tenedos never told me of the incident, nor did Sikri, and Captain Othman never discussed his personal business. But someone’s ears were close to the canvas wall of the tent that afternoon.
Tenedos introduced himself, and the woman did as well, expressing her pleasure at his giving her the time, and complimenting him liberally. He asked what she wished, and she pretended mock indignation that he’d never heard of her. She was the toast of Polycittara, indeed, of all Kallio, had even sung her songs in Nicias itself twice, and appeared in a masque before the Rule of Ten. Tenedos, always civil, apologized for his ignorance, and once more, a little wearily, inquired her business.
She giggled, and said that, well, she’d heard so much about him, even though that terrible Chardin Sher forbade any mention of the seer, and desired to see what he was made of for herself. “For,” she said, and her words were always told exactly, “I fancy great men, and I have sensed, even though I have no more of the Talent than any of us who play the part of others for only a night, true greatness about you.”
Tenedos ignored the compliment. “So Chardin Sher is still in Polycittara?”
“As far as I know,” Sikri said, “although I care little about that man, nor about his piddly tittle city or his piddly little ambitions. I have renounced them, for I am no traitoress, but a true Numantian, and wish to do all I can to help the cause, and bind up the wounds of our poor country.”
A good storyteller could relate this in ringing tones, and suggest that Sikri may have been modifying a speech she’d learned sometime earlier for a stage role.
Tenedos wondered exactly what contributions she thought she could make.
“Why,” she said, her voice now a purr, “I was told that you have no one to share your troubles with, no one to help you carry the burden of your duties.”
“You mean,” Tenedos said, “you want to sleep with me.”
Sikri giggled. “Is that not the best way a woman can help a man?”
There came a very long silence, and the unnamed eavesdropper must have assumed the lewdest But then Tenedos spoke:
“I am deeply honored, my lady. But you should be aware I plan on marriage when this campaign is over, and frankly consider myself affianced.”
“What of it,” Sikri said. “Is a prize stallion content with only one mare?”
Again, silence, and then a shout for Captain Othman. The singer started to become angry, but Tenedos told her to be silent Within a few minutes the little adjutant bustled in.
“Captain, this is Sikri Jabneel.”
“Pleased, my lady.”
“She wished to help our cause to victory. I have accepted. Lady Jabneel, if you wish to remain with us, you may do so, as Captain Othman’s leman, under his protection.”
“But — ”
“Either that, or you shall be escorted out of our lines within the hour and sent back to Polycittara. The choice is yours.”
Tenedos left the tent, and the listener must have had to flee, because nothing was ever reported as to what next happened between Othman and the singer.
But an hour later her baggage was moved into the adjutant’s tent, and when the army moved out the next day, she rode happily in his staff carriage, the only woman with the army.
It was against policy, against all the rules and regulations. But the story was too delicious for her presence not to be permitted.
• • •
I am afraid I did not laugh when I heard the tale, for I was far too worried about Marán. I’d had no more than two letters, brief notes that said she was recovering since her miscarriage and there were no complications.
I tortured myself about what could be the matter, but somehow found the strength to drive the problem from my mind. It must wait until the war was over.
• • •
The ground rose steadily, and we marched across a wide plateau, the Kallian farms smaller and interspersed with woodlands. We moved more slowly, for now there were canyons and draws that required thorough scouting before we could move past them.
The weather grew colder as the Time of Storms began, and gales swept Kallio, the ground freezing at night, then thawing into mire during the day, We were less than a week’s journey from Polycittara, and wondering when the Kallian Army would come out to fight.
I was riding ahead, with the scouts, when we came on the great forest of Kallio. It covered the entire end of the plateau, and swept out like the wings of an enormous bat. We must pass through the center of the crescent, where the land had been cleared and planted, to follow the roads that led down to the Kallian capital.
Waiting in that crescent was Chardin Sher’s army.
TWENTY-SEVEN
DEATH IN THE FOREST
This battle would be Chardin Sher’s triumph. He — or whoever his top general was — had an excellent eye for terrain. His forces held the inner part of the crescent, with what appeared to be impenetrable forest on either side to protect his flanks. He occupied higher ground, and the rising country between us offered little cover except for a few tree clumps, ditches, some farmlands, and the tiny village of Dabormida.
The Kallians had dug only hasty trenches for their lines. This didn’t mean they’d just arrived at this battle site, nor that they were lazy, but almost certainly that they planned to wait for our attack, inflict as many casualties as possible, then fall back into the forest.
The map showed the woods were no more than three miles thick in the center, so they’d be able to pull back into clear ground on the far side and re-form. When our forces stumbled out of the dense trees in broken order, they’d counterattack and smash us.
So I read the enemy’s plans, and Tenedos and other generals agreed.
“However,” Tenedos said, a grim smile on his face, “this is where Chardin Sher is going to meet with another surprise.
“We will attack, but not in the manner they expect. Here is my plan.”
He went to a table where a covered map lay. He pulled the cover away. “My thrust will be double-pronged,” he said. “The first attack will break their careful arrangements and harry them until the second strikes at their throat.” The officers considered his plan for long moments, and I heard murmurs of dismay. Tenedos noted them. “Are you generals saying it cannot be done?”
He looked at me first I considered, then said, “No, sir. I think it can, at least my cavalry will be able to pull it off, assuming we’ve got enough hours to move, the forest isn’t completely impossible and that you’ll provide a feint of some sort.”
“Good,” Tenedos said. “What about the dragoons? General Taitu?”
“Impossible,” their commander, an old regular, snapped. “Men’ll lose sight of their goals, stumble about, make too much noise, and the Kallians’ll have us for breakfast.”
“I can provide an infallible guide,” Tenedos said.
“I guess you’re talking about magic, which never holds firm on the battiefield. Still impossible, in spite of what my young colleague dreams. Your plan’s too exotic, anyways. It’s one of those quick-fix ideas, and we’ll lose a third of the army trying it.”
“General, thank you for your opinion,” Tenedos said, his voice suddenly hard. “Now, will you carry out my orders?”
There was a long silence, then the grizzled veteran shook his head. “No, sir, I will not I cannot. Your scheme’s doomed, and I’ll not hazard my dragoons on such a wild plan.”
There could be but one response.
“I am grateful for your honesty, General Taitu,” Tenedos said. “You are relieved. I want you to turn over your command within the hour to the successor I’ll name.” He turned to the rest of us. “This was unexpected, so I must ask all of you to step outside for a moment General á Cimabue, will you remain?”
I did. Tenedos’s iron reserve broke as the tent flap closed behind the last commander.
“Bastard!” he swore. “What the hells do they think
an army is for but to fight? I swear to Saionji I shall relieve every general in the army if he refuses to fight when and how I tell him, promote privates, and lead them into battle myself!”
I maintained silence. Tenedos forced calm.
“Very well, Damastes. Who takes over the dragoons? I would have given them to Linerges, but I have a sufficiently difficult task already chosen for him. If he survives the day, he’ll get his general’s sash.”
I had my answer ready. “Petre, sir.”
“I should have known. He’ll have no trouble going from cavalry to mounted infantry? Very well then. I assume you have a replacement to command your pet Lancers?”
“I do, sir. His name’s Bikaner.”
Tenedos frowned, then remembered. “Yes. The sergeant who was with us in Kait. Good. It does the army good to see a common soldier brought to high rank. Consider it done. Call the others back, if you would.” I started to obey. “No,” Tenedos said. “Wait a moment. Two things I’d planned to tell you, and both are for your ears only.
“First, I’ve sent inquiring spells out, and discovered the name of Chardin Sher’s master magician. He’s a fellow named Mikael Yanthlus, whose name translates as Mikael of the Spirits. He was once a Maisirian, interestingly enough. I recollect the other mercenary, Wollo I think it was, who was in Achim Fergana’s employ. Odd. One day we might find it worthwhile to look into Maisir’s affairs, to see why their natives seem bent on traveling abroad and stirring up trouble. But I veer.
“So, now I know this worthy one’s name, I have a bit of power over him. That is one thing. The second is that there shall be a battle spell cast, a large one, before we fight, which I must not describe to anyone. But don’t be surprised when it begins, although I don’t think, if our strategy works, you or your horsemen will be within hearing or sight of it. But if it succeeds, it shall make things most interesting for the Kallians.
“Now, if you’ll tell Captain Othman to send for Domina Petre and tell him he’s now a general, and then summon the others back, we can continue.”
There were no other objections to Seer-General Tenedos’s battle plan, which wasn’t surprising. Relieving an officer is generally the end of his career. In fact, most of the officers seemed impressed by Tenedos’s firmness. Men are no different from horses in some regards, and can sense an unsteady hand on the reins.
The attack was set for five days hence. I wondered why Tenedos hadn’t ordered the usual immediate attack, but assumed his spell would take some time to prepare, or else the stars or moon wouldn’t be right until then.
Not that our army sat idle. Yonge’s division of skirmishers was sent into the front lines, with orders to prepare for a series of probing actions. He would be reinforced with Linerges’s regiment, which had been rebuilt with replacements to about three-quarters of its strength. Four other regiments were placed under Linerges’s command as well, and these would form a new division if the battle was successful.
Finally, three regiments of heavy cavalry were detached from my command to be directly under Tenedos’s orders. I wasn’t upset — it would have been difficult for them to keep up with the rest of my men when the attack began. Besides, all three of them were very staid, very traditional units, unlike the Twentieth Heavy Cavalry of the frontier, more resembling the ceremonial Second Heavy Cavalry that had been wiped out during the riots. I’d frequently had to reprimand their dominas for dragging their feet and being unwilling to accept the new standards. In fact, I rather hoped all three officers, and a good number of their staff, might suffer nicely incapacitating wounds, so I could rebuild the regiments as I wished. Four days later, I was to be ashamed of that wish.
Three days before the attack, all mounted troops except the heavy cavalry and one regiment to secure each flank were pulled back behind the lines. It was hoped that Chardin Sher’s sorcerers and spies would see this, and figure we were once more being held in reserve until the front was broken.
Two days before the planned assault, the men of the dragoons were assembled before Tenedos’s sorcerers. Curious, I rode over to watch what was going on.
All officers, all warrants, and every fifth man were lined up, and one by one brought before two wizards. One magician held a Kallian sword in one hand, a shield in the other. He touched the soldier on the head with the flat of the blade, on the heart with the shield. The second stood in a triangle formed by tall braziers that sent red smoke curling into the sky, red being Chardin Sher’s chosen color. That mage chanted:
“This is your compass
This is your lodestone.
You will be drawn
You will be led.
Follow this sign
You will know the path.
Your feet will feel
Your sword will lead.
You will obey
You cannot turn.”
When they were finished, a wizard explained what the spell gave them. If they became lost in the forest, all they had to do was think of Kallians, and they would be drawn in the right direction.
“And when you come on them,” the wizard shouted, “you won’t need my magic to tell you what to do, will you, lads?”
The men roared, a hungry roar like a lion about to be unloosed. I noted the wizard’s name — Gojjam — as being a worthy leader, since I doubt Tenedos had told his magicians to be rabble-rousers as well.
The day before the battle the fighting began, and Tenedos cast a weather spell. The skies closed, and hail whipped down, becoming rain, then snow, then hail once more.
Yonge’s skirmishers went forward in various-sized units, and launched probing attacks on the Kallian lines. Of course the Kallians counterattacked, and drove the skirmishers back. Each time, a few men died. An hour later, they’d hit again, in another sector, and again the Kallians would be forced to drive them back. Once an entire Kallian regiment came from the forest edge into the open, and before it could retreat was hit by a combined attack from a column of heavy cavalry and a company of Linerges’s infantry. They were pushed back, and, after a pause, another raid was mounted by Yonge’s men.
I thought I understood Tenedos’s tactics — to drive the Kallians to distraction with these small, stinging attacks, so they’d be paying little attention to other areas of the front — but I was wrong. That was the least part of what Tenedos was doing, although it would be years before I divined the real purpose.
Late that afternoon, my cavalry and Petre’s dragoons moved out, some miles west of the Kallian position. We rode to the edge of the woods, dismounted, and, each man leading his horse or mule, began thrashing our way through the forest.
It was terrible going, branches whipping across our faces, across the animals’ faces, men stumbling and going down in unseen cracks in the forest floor, horses shrilling and mules braying in anger and confusion, their owners clamping a hand over their muzzles, hoping the clamor of the distant skirmishing would mask our noise. Lance Karjan, just to my rear, proved surprisingly vocal as we pushed on, muttering a steady stream of obscenities, some of which I’d never heard.
It was dark in those trees, dank and freezing. But there was more than the cold to fear — it was as if this forest had never been traversed by man, and was the abode of old gods, gods who were nameless, who paid no fealty to Jacini, but to eldritch deities, demons perhaps, and we all felt chill menace about us.
There were almost 10,000 cavalrymen moving through this forest, with 5,000 dragoons to our rear. We moved in ten columns, each column sure his shit-brained leaders had picked the absolute roughest route.
Eventually the twilight darkened, and the day ended. We fed our horses from the feedbags tied to our saddles. In these long columns there weren’t any officers, any warrant; no one could traverse the line to see how his men were doing. I was just a horseman, no longer a general.
There was only one blessing: One of Tenedos’s wizards had developed a spell to keep liquids hot, and so each man had a clay container filled with soup to warm him. That is, i
f he hadn’t smashed it against a tree, as I had mine. Karjan offered me some of his, but I refused, and crouched against a tree, wrapped in my soaked blanket, and gnawed at some dried beef, allowing myself a bit of self-pity in the darkness, worrying about Marán, worrying about myself, worrying about the morrow and how I would do, if we ever broke out of this demon-haunted jungle. It was too cold and wet to sleep, and fairly soon it began raining once more.
But self-pity is a shallow vessel, at least for me, and I found myself gririning at my own misery. We were well and truly lost in this forest that went on forever, and we’d never be seen, but be doomed to wander until time ran out and the Wheel stopped, and Irisu wondered where several thousand of his subjects had gotten off to and looked for us.
Sometime in the night, it froze, and I guess I slept, because I opened my eyes to grayness and long knives of ice hanging from the tree branches around me.
Lucan was looking at me, wondering why I’d chosen to put him through this torture. I fed him once more, and gave him a treat of some brandy-soaked sugar I had in a twist of oiled paper, and we were ready to move on. Now the cavalry marched without the dragoons. They turned to the east, toward the Kallian forces, and, using the spell given them, started for the enemy flanks.
About an hour later, the bedlam of destruction smashed into my ears from the east, and I knew the main battle had begun.
An hour after that, the forest ended, and we were in open brushland once more. A few miles away, the plateau ended, and roads led down toward the Kallian capital. We formed our battle line and sat our horses, waiting.
Yonge’s skirmishers had harried the Kallian lines all night, never giving them any rest. Now all would depend on whether the dragoons had been able to reach their position in time.
At first light, a regiment of infantry and another of heavy cavalry had made a frontal assault on the lines. It was suicidal, and the two units were decimated. As the Kallians moved out of their positions, to mop up, the dragoons attacked through the forest from the western flank, smashing out of nowhere.
