“But sir...”
Jacob held up a hand, stopping the conversation.
“I appreciate your concern, Fredericks, but this burden is mine to bear.”
The private nodded, reluctantly. What he did not say, but what Jacob could hear, was that while the burden might be Jacob's to bear, it was Fredericks' to carry out. A valid point, and one that could sink his standing with the men. But that farmstead! There was no punishment in the law of the land equal to that. He must devise one that was.
“Perhaps a city or a town...” Shaking himself, he went in search of Umholi. Whatever had struck this place was not the same as what had arrived at the previous ones. There, it had been peaceful. Not like this. No, not like this at all.
Umholi was found conversing with Joyce, well away from the remains of the travesty. When they saw the approaching regimental commander, they both stood to attention and saluted, the contrast between the two lightening Jacob's mood for a moment. But only a moment.
“Who was it?”
Umholi stared off into space for a time.
“Umdondoshiya. Lords of the Mountain Lands. The hated enemy of the Ngaphansi. And creatures that make the Hungry Ones look kind and gentle by comparison. If Richard fought them and lost, this is what would have happened to him.”
Jacob growled for a moment, his anger overcoming his sensibilities.
“And?”
“They'll probably kill us too. Especially if they've forced Forgotten Folk into their employ.”
“That would have happened how?”
Rather than answer directly, the Uhlobo chieftain turned and looked back to where there had once been a colonist's home.
“These creatures are not the most intelligent of species, but their physical prowess is such that once they claimed the mountains for themselves, no other race has ever dislodged them. The Ngaphansi have tried, in a bitter and long struggle that resides even in Umkhovu oral tradition. But never succeeded. Nor have the Mountain Lords come down from their lands in such numbers in generations. Many times has the wheel of stars turned since this last happened.” He turned to look straight at Jacob. “Whatever your people have done, it has upset this land, and every creature on it seeks to reject you. Old animosities are set aside, and instead they hunt you humans.”
“Everyone except you, it would seem.”
Umholi smiled thinly, his short form casting a long shadow in the evening sun. “We have felt the calling too. For us, it was more to betrayal than battle. After all, no race regards us as combatants.” He glanced down at his thickly muscled torso and long arms. “Except you. You train us, share your technology and culture with us, and treat us better than any other. But we still feel that nagging at the back of our skulls, quiet though it might be.”
Jacob felt like cursing, but held himself stiff and proper.
“Do you mean to say we should not trust you?”
“No. The call is not that strong, at least not yet. Whomever is orchestrating it has decided we are rather on the useless side. After all, his most current pets have demonstrated amply their capabilities.”
“So you think there is a person coordinating all of this?”
Umholi shook his head. “No, that would be incorrect for me to say. I think the land itself does not like you. That it feels you are a disease infecting its soil. It seeks to expunge you, as sickness is from a wound.”
“Why would this continent feel such a thing?”
“Do you remember when you fought the Hungry Ones? Their shamans made their warriors resilient, and rotted away your fortress gates to nothing. But they never struck at you with their curses. Somehow, your people stand outside of their talents, and whatever causes that is, I am sure, the same reason that the land feels you are a sickness.”
Jacob thought for a moment. “We disrupt the balance. Where once the arboreals had the trees, the Hungry Ones the plains, and the others their places in turn, we belong to no single place, no single home. But then were did your people fit in?”
“Perhaps we did not. After all, we lived underground once, and were driven from our homes and onto the plains, and there left to rot and wither. Nature herself may have turned against us long ago, then left the final cleansing to the years of time.”
“And the same will happen to us?”
“I think more forces are marshalled against your people than ever were against mine. Of course, your people are also far stronger than mine ever were. The greatest artefacts in our stories pale in comparison to the muskets you carry, and to you muskets are so common as to be a basic tool, no more impressive than a plough or saddle.”
“But you are not sure that our weapons will be enough?”
“If all the creatures of the lands come calling, your whole army might not be enough.”
On that front, Jacob chuckled.
“I think you might find yourself surprised, Umholi. Although I hope it never comes to that point. But what we sent here was considered a small colony, something merely to test the waters. There are less people here in all the villages, farms, and fortresses than there are in one district of the capital city of Queen Cyninge. We have not even begun to test the depth of our strength, although we may have begun to test the depth of our resolve.”
“Then your people are far greater than I had imagined.”
“That they might be. Unfortunately, that greatness is not going to help us defeat the Mountain Lords in the here and now. So how do we go about that?”
Umholi shrugged. “You shoot them.”
“I was looking for something with a modicum of tactical depth. I am quite aware we're going to shoot them.”
“We have not seen the Mountain Lords in generations. They do not like the plains, and clash with the Hungry Ones whenever they leave their territories. So I have little advice I could give you. Even in the days of my longfathers we left the conflict with the Mountain Lords to the Ngaphansi. We had no strength to fight two enemies at once.”
“We appear to be entering this conflict blinder than I would have hoped, with little information about where the enemy is and even less about how to fight them. Would you know anything about their physical characteristics, given that you mentioned they had overwhelming advantages on that score?”
Umholi thought for a few moments. “They are reputed to be very tall and broad, heavily muscled all across their body. The tales speak of them blotting out the sun, and which I find doubtful. But possibly twice the height of a Hungry One, maybe more, that I could believe.”
“You're telling me that these creatures could be more than twelve feet tall, if not taller?”
“It would appear so, yes.”
“I am quite glad I brought the field artillery, in that case. Right, I believe we have all the information we need from this location.” Jacob gestured to the drummer. “Sound 'Return to Camp'. We'll pack there and leave permanently in two days.”
***
Darren joined him in his tent for supper that night, and although neither truly wished to discuss it, the conversation could drift in only one direction. Presently, it was Jacob who broke the ice.
“Given the rumoured size of these creatures we're fighting, your sabres might prove something of a detriment. It appears the old days of the lance have returned once more.”
“Unfortunately we have neither the equipment or the training, and so will have to stick to our blades. Which have served us rather well in the past against all manner of foe.”
“True. I fear we will be forced into creating tactics on the fly, given the unknown nature of our opponents. And I also fear for the men's morale. Oh, not now, not after having seen what those creatures did to unarmed civilians, but when they stand on the field of battle, and realize that the creatures opposite them rip beings apart and roast them over open flame. Sadly, I am sure that thought will ricochet around the minds of all too many of our men.”
“Well, as long as the old principle works, we will be fine. And I think having the Umkhov
u along might help, as there is very little chance any of our men want to be shown up by a collection of sepoy soldiers.”
“Ah yes, the old principle. 'No man fights for himself. He fights for the brothers who surround him, the wife who depends upon him, and the children who look up to him.' It is true though. When you stand in the line of battle, you're far more afraid of getting your best friend killed than of dying yourself. If you die, your family collects honour and death benefits. If he dies, you live with shame and recriminating thoughts from now until the end of your days. Whichever man gave us philosophy should have been shot the instant he opened his mouth.”
“On that front, I agree with you entirely. Except natural philosophers also gave us gunpowder, tensile steel, and bronze cannons. All of which I will be quite thankful for in the days to come.”
Jacob grunted. “Now that you point it out, I am forced to admit even those daft old men have their uses. I just wish they weren't quite so few and far between.” A waved hand brought that part of the conversation to a close. “Anyway, we must look at our plans for deployment. Order of march being Lifeguards, Umkhovu, and half the Dragoons on each flank seems sensible. We'll keep the artillery in the middle, along with the wagons.”
“I concur.”
“And we know what direction we must go in, so there is little doubt there. Only the uncertainty of trying to find an enemy that would greatly prefer to ambush us.”
“A challenge I am entirely looking forward to, and one that will sparkle with delight upon our records. If we win, we have beaten little more than uncouth barbarians who could no more aspire to civilization than a chipmunk. If we lose, we were beaten by the same, and shake the very foundation of our confidence in progress. Either the fifth page on foreign affairs, or the front page in bold type. I do appreciate the equal treatment we always receive.”
“Now now Darren, the newspapers will not be so cruel as all that. We might even make it to the second page, as part of the Queen's interests. We are here at her direct command, after all.”
“You mean Colonel Sherman will get page two, while we appear at the bottom of the New Year's honour list.”
“Well, that might be, but it would be unkind to insult the good Colonel before he takes all the credit. Not that that would be out of keeping with his traditional belief in the superiority of the chain of hierarchy.”
Darren grabbed the wine from the sideboard, poured two glasses, and handed one to his fellow commander. “A toast, to distant superiors and newspapermen.”
“May we receive the credit we deserve.” Jacob's expression was more than a little sarcastic.
***
A week had passed since that dinner with Darren, and the Queen's Royal Army, or rather, the three regiments that represented it in this distant and far flung expanse of her kingdom, was on the march across dusty plains, choking upon clouds roiled from the dry earth. It was an exceedingly unpleasant experience, one that would be greatly enlivened by the presence of an enemy they could shoot at. Unfortunately, such an enemy was entirely remiss in presenting itself, leaving Jacob muttering quietly, hoping the daft creatures would wander in front of his column so he could order the line of battle.
Given they had done nothing of the sort for the last several days, he was concerned that they had manage to elude his Lifeguards. Which should be quite a tall order. Conferences with the elders of the Uhlobo had revealed no additional information on their possible characteristics beyond those few details that Umholi had been able to scrounge from his memory, and despite additional attempts to discover information about the Forgotten Folk who supposedly travelled with the Mountain Lords, little had been gained on that front either. Why couldn't these blasted creatures be human, or at least act like them? It would make all this information gathering so much simpler. Jacob knew how humans thought, and more importantly where to shoot them to kill them. But this... this was intolerable as a military man. He was being forced to throw out thousands of years of military history and start almost entirely from scratch. He could say with total honesty he had never been trained to deal with something like this. Of course, he was also Jacob Perlew IV, scion of one of the great families, and the mere thought of what his father would do if he brought disgrace to the family name was far more frightening than anything an enemy might achieve.
***
As days passed, the forces of the Royal Army began to curve the track of their march, quartering the terrain they were passing over in a search for the enemy barbarians. Given where the natives had been attacking before the regiments had set out from the fortress, there should have been some sign of them. But there had been nothing, an emptiness that wore on the morale of the soldiers. Even Jacob was beginning to have doubts, thoughts that perhaps the Mountain Lords had withdrawn back into their high kingdom, leaving behind the carnage.
The only group amongst the army who thought nothing of the sort were the Uhlobo, for their opinion grew more and more certain each day that the Mountain Lords were preparing an ambush for the soldiers, a concern that was noted by the regimental commanders, but dismissed. After all, the Lifeguards were in the middle of a plain covered in tall grass. It was exceedingly unlikely any creatures of the size reported could hide themselves, even if they lay entirely flat on the ground. Still, Jacob did strengthen the flanks, just in case. He also ordered the cannon to travel loaded, which was achieved by pressing in a bag of gunpowder, wadding, the shot, and more wadding, and then using the wet weather plug to stopper the barrel. To fire, all the gunners would need to do would be ram the shot back home, poke a hole in the powder bag, fill the touch hole with powder, and fire. For teams as expert as the Lifeguards' it would be little more than a trivial task.
Another fruitless day drew to a close, and Jacob ordered his men to make camp, then summoned the officers to his tent after it had been erected. Upton arrived immediately, as did Bricthon, an unfortunate state of affairs as Jacob had hoped to speak to the other officers first, their advice being more useful and less political. Theodore arrived next, making his apologies for the delay, while Alastair arrived last, and in conference with Umholi.
Inceku and the other servants had finished readying the room, the table laid with crockery and cutlery splendidly displayed, each piece of silver or gold glimmering in the candlelight. Tonight, Jacob gave the right hand seat to Alastair and the left to Theodore, with Bricthon and Upton at one remove on either side. Given the small size of the gathering, there was no real slight intended or taken by the seating arrangements, for every man could understand and counsel every other.
Umholi had disappeared upon his arrival at the tent, but reappeared with a bottle in hand and in his full butler's finery, serving each of the officers their wine before quietly withdrawing. Jacob had requested that tonight the discussion occur before the meal was served, or at least the main part of it, and clearly Inceku had communicated that to Umholi.
After a sip of the white cleared his palette, Jacob nodded to those around him and got down to business.
“First matter on the table – how are the men? We've been marching hither and yon looking for the Mountain Lords, and we've been out here long enough for it to have an effect on morale.”
The four company commanders looked at one another, before Upton spoke up.
“Sir, they are Lifeguards. You could march them across the sea to Queen Cyninge's palace and they would still be fit fighting men when they arrived.”
“I understand that, Upton. I am asking whether they will be at their sharpest when the barbarians finally do arrive.”
“Yes, they will.”
“Good. Because we're staking our lives on that.” Waving the matter away with a short gesture, Jacob turned to the crux of the evening meeting. “We have two problems before us, gentlemen: bringing the enemy to heel, and defeating him once we do so. The first, we have not accomplished, nor the second, and on neither account have we brought forth brilliance in our planning. So, given those two tasks before us, how d
o you recommend we go about solving it?”
Bricthon answered. “Is it true that the creatures in question are likely to be upwards of eighteen feet tall?”
“The best sources we have suggest at least twice the height of the Hungry Ones, those pale creatures that attacked our fortress. So, as an operational assumption, yes.”
“They are going to require an awful lot of musketballs to stop, in that case. Do we know anything about them having vulnerable features?”
Upon hearing the question, Jacob signalled Umholi out from his discrete post behind a flap of the tent.
The Umkhovu chieftain trotted forward, long limbs dangling at his side. “To the best of our knowledge, the creatures are the same body structure as we are, in as much as they have two arms, two legs, and a single head and torso. I'd presume vulnerable areas are the same as on us, being the face, throat, heart, and groin. Of all of those, I believe the neck and face would probably be the best target, given the possibility of crippling shots, even if they are not outright lethal.”
“Thank you, Umholi.” Jacob dismissed him back to the corner. “So, face and throat shots appear to be our best bet. If nothing else, it should slow the creatures down. Given their greater striking weight, I am sure cannon will be able to kill the Mountain Lords with almost any shot. A ball heavy enough to splinter an oak tree should have little trouble with mere flesh and blood. But that still leaves us the problem of dissuading the Mountain Lords from charging our lines. Suggestions?”
“Well, a great deal will depend on whether we have time to set the lines before the battle or whether it comes on us in surprise.” Theodore made a gesture that encompassed the surrounding plains. “Given the terrain, we should be able to see most attacks coming with a good deal of warning, but there's very little in the way of obstacles that we can use. The best would be standing atop a low rise, which would not offer a great deal in terms of protection. Now, if we were still at the fortress, there are one or two things I could think of – having each of the soldiers carry a wooden stake perhaps four feet long, and emplace those in temporary barricades at the outset of a fight.”
Our Land (Queen's Own Book 1) Page 14
