Fort Covenant_Tales of the Seventh

by Marc Edelheit

  “That was close,” Tiro said in a near whisper.

  “Too close.” Stiger glanced up at the darkening sky. In another hour it would be dusk. “Bren, how far to Cora’Tol?”

  “Less than a mile, sir,” the scout replied. “Just over that little ridge, the other side of which is a valley. The garrison’s fort is set in the valley, next to the town.”

  “And they’ve burned both?” Stiger could smell the faint trace of smoke on the air.

  “Yes,” Bren confirmed. “Perhaps the day before last.”

  “Are you certain you want to continue, sir?” Tiro asked.

  “Yes,” Stiger said. “I need to see it.”

  “Why, sir?” Tiro looked like he thought this a bad idea. “Cora’Tol is gone. There’s no longer any point in continuing our mission.”

  “I can’t return without having laid eyes on our objective,” Stiger explained. “The general will want a detailed report, and he is likely to question me closely.”

  Tiro hesitated a moment. “Let’s keep off the road then. That’s the second group we’ve nearly blundered into.”

  “Agreed.” Stiger turned to Bren, sheathing his sword. “Lead the way.”

  “Yes, sir,” Bren said and set off. The scout quickly led them deeper into the forest and farther away from the road. Stiger was impressed with Bren’s ability to move near-silently through the trees. Every so often, the scout stopped to listen, and Stiger did his best to not make any noise.

  Within twenty minutes Stiger found himself prone again, this time peering through the brush down into the valley. Tiro was to his left and Bren his right.

  “Well,” Tiro said with a heavy breath, “the garrison is most definitely gone. Can we go now?”

  Stiger said nothing as he studied the valley. He was sure it had once had a peaceful look to it, with a large town near the center. A stream meandered its way past. Neatly cultivated farm fields spread outward from the town, which was now nothing more than a smoldering wreck. Only the charred stumps of timber and stone foundations remained. Just beyond the town was the fort. Oddly, the wooden-staked palisade still stood, yet the interior of the fort had burned.

  “I don’t see any breaches in the fort’s walls,” Stiger said.

  “Looks like they just opened the gate and let the enemy in.” Tiro pointed.

  The gate stood open and seemed to show no evidence of being forced.

  “There may be something we can’t see,” Stiger said. “We’re over a half mile away.”

  “Could be as you say, sir,” Tiro said. “But I’ve been through more than my fair share of sieges and assaults. There should be more damage if the enemy forced their way in.”

  Stiger nodded. Tiro’s experience had served him well so far. Stiger had learned to listen to the old veteran’s advice.

  “Look there, a lot of bodies just outside of the town, sir,” Bren said and pointed. “In that field. Some spread out like they was running, others grouped about, probably executed. Townsfolk, I would hazard, sir.”

  Stiger looked, following Bren’s finger. He sucked in a breath.

  Carrion birds circled the valley above the spot. More were grouped around those who had fallen, feeding hungrily. The sight sickened Stiger. It also angered him, for the large group of bodies seemed clustered too close together to be the remains of the fallen from a fight. They were, as Bren said, likely civilians from the town. Either they had been executed there or their bodies had been dragged to that point and left to rot. Stiger leaned toward the former explanation, as it seemed too much effort to drag them, especially if you weren’t going to bury or burn the bodies.

  He shifted his gaze beyond the town. A small camp had been erected away from the ruins on the other side. Stiger squinted to see better. He counted tents, twenty-eight in total. A number of mules were tethered to stakes in neat rows next to the camp. There were also two horses, likely officers’ mounts. Stiger counted five sentries slowly walking the boundaries of the camp. Unlike a legionary marching camp, there were no defensive structures, such as a wall.

  He chewed his lip as an idea occurred to him. He knew Tiro would not like it.

  “Looks like at least a full company’s tents,” Stiger said.

  “Maybe two hundred men minimum,” Tiro said. “But I don’t see many of them down there, unless they are sleeping off the heat of the day, sir.”

  “There was an auxiliary cohort stationed here.” Stiger found his anger building. He slapped the ground. “I don’t see how a single company could overwhelm the defenses of the fort. That’s a solid-looking wall.”

  “Must have been surprised, sir,” Tiro said. “This valley is well away from the front lines. Command likely stationed a third-rate cohort here. I’ve seen it before. They got lazy, and paid for it.”

  “Perhaps.” Stiger tapped his fingers on the ground as he thought it through aloud. “We don’t know exactly how the fort fell. We’ve already crossed paths with at least two files of men, and each was hauling along prisoners. Is it possible the cohort was ambushed and broken outside of the valley? They could be out hunting down survivors.”

  “That is a possibility,” Tiro said. “Slaves fetch good money.”

  “Well, whatever occurred, the general will not be happy about this,” Stiger said. “We know that there are more Rivan forces in the area. Counting the ones pursuing us, that makes at least two companies of heavy infantry and a contingent of cavalry. Seems an odd force to send so deep into enemy territory for the purposes of raiding.”

  “How so?” Tiro looked over at Stiger. “Two companies of heavies and some cavalry is a pretty formidable force, sir.”

  “Light infantry would be better suited for this kind of work,” Stiger said. “With the legions up north pursuing the Rivan army, it seems damn odd to send heavy infantry all the way down here just to raid. Besides, it’s kind of out of the way, don’t you think?”

  “I think,” Tiro said slowly, “that I don’t like them being here, sir, whether they be heavy or light infantry.”

  Stiger chuckled softly.

  “We have to get word back that the enemy has sacked Cora’Tol,” Tiro said. “What is the nearest garrison?”

  “Cora’Mal,” Stiger said, “twenty or so miles to the east.”

  “We should warn them,” Tiro said.

  “Our map doesn’t go that far.” Stiger rubbed his chin. He did not much like the idea of moving farther away from the legion than they already were. “Traveling through the forest instead of the roads might see us lose our way.”

  “We should warn them,” Tiro said again.

  “We do that and it takes us farther away from the Third.”

  “We need food, sir,” Tiro pressed. “Cora’Mal is the only option.”

  “What if Cora’Mal has been sacked as well?” Stiger turned back to studying the enemy camp, the idea growing into a plan of action. It had hit him moments before, but looking over the enemy’s mule train solidified what he wanted to do. “As it is, the company is going nowhere.”

  “What do you mean, sir?”

  “We’re out of food,” Stiger said. “Without it, we can’t travel very far. If we move to Cora’Mal and that garrison is gone too, we will be in real trouble.”

  “I am almost afraid to ask.” Tiro’s eyes narrowed. “What do you have in mind, sir?”

  “I am thinking . . . ” Stiger expelled a long breath. “That tonight we attack the enemy’s camp.”

  “Are you serious, sir?”

  “I am.”

  “Attack an entire company?” Tiro rolled onto his side to better look at Stiger, an incredulous expression upon his face. “Whatever for?”

  Stiger returned the sergeant’s look. “We’re out of food, and they have it. I intend to take what we need, including all those fine mules. Maybe even the horses, if we can.” Stiger grinned at Tiro. “There is good money in that, too.”

  Tiro blinked, but said nothing.

  “Do you see any defenses
down there, or patrols for that matter?” Stiger said.

  Tiro turned and scanned the valley.

  “No,” Tiro said after a moment. “I only see their camp sentries. Bren, do you see anything out of the ordinary?”

  “No, Sergeant,” Bren said. “I do not.”

  “Looks like they’ve gotten lazy,” Tiro said. “Must be thinking they eliminated any threat for miles around. It is possible they’ve not yet gotten word from the company pursuing us that we’re around.”

  “We’ve run into two files of men outside the valley,” Stiger said. “Each file had taken prisoners. There may be more ranging farther afield. It could mean the company down there might be a few files light when we strike.”

  “I guess that is possible,” Tiro said grudgingly. “I think we might be able to do it. That is, if we can silence those sentries without too much fuss first and catch the rest sleeping. Varus, Bren, Aronus, and I have some experience handling such things, sir.”

  Tiro drew a slow finger across his throat to underscore the point.

  “Later, when it is good and dark, we bring up the entire company, sneak up on their camp, silence their sentries, and attack. With luck, we will have the element of surprise on our side.”

  “What about the other Rivan forces in the area?” Tiro squinted as he returned to studying the enemy camp. “I would not want to be caught in the valley come dawn to find enemy reinforcements arriving or that company that’s been snapping at our heels showing up.”

  “We make tracks well before dawn then,” Stiger said. “We move south and then dogleg it back west toward the Third.”

  “What about getting word to Cora’Mal?”

  “I am hesitant to take the entire company that way,” Stiger said. “Better that we return and report. We can send one of our scouts.”

  Tiro scratched an itch on his neck, clearly considering Stiger’s proposal.

  “This could all go horribly wrong.”

  “Yes, it could,” Stiger conceded, “but if we are to go anywhere, we need their food. It’s well over seventy-five miles back to the Third.”

  “I can’t believe I am actually considering this madness with only eighty-two men.” Tiro shook his head. “Are you set on this path, sir? We could always try to forage.”

  “We are being pursued,” Stiger said flatly. “We may not be allowed time to forage properly. Besides, I kind of like the idea of the enemy doing us the courtesy of feeding us.”

  “Excuse me, sir?”

  Stiger looked over at the scout, who had been intently studying the enemy’s camp.

  “Go ahead,” Stiger said.

  “Looks like there are some men under guard down there, about a dozen.” Bren pointed off to the side of the enemy camp.

  Stiger had missed it, as they were on the other side of a large white tent and easily overlooked. He could see two guards standing around a small group sitting upon the ground.

  “Well, that settles it then. We attack,” Stiger said. “I’d not want to leave our boys in their hands, even if they are only auxiliaries.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Tiro.

  “All right, let’s get back to the men. We have a lot to do.”

  Chapter Three

  Stiger took a knee so that the veritable sea of wheat came to shoulder level. Only his head showed. It was nearing midnight, and the moon, obscured by clouds, was almost directly overhead, providing barely enough light to see the three men before him. The men had also taken a knee. In the darkness, their faces looked serious, grim even. Directly behind them, forty legionaries waited. To avoid being prematurely discovered, they were lying prone, the wheat field concealing their presence from the enemy camp barely forty yards distant.

  “Just as soon as Corporal Varus returns,” Stiger said in a near whisper, half turning and pointing, “you three are to head for that watch fire there, the closest one. Light as many tents as possible. The weatherproofing on the canvas should act as an accelerant. Understand me?”

  They nodded their understanding.

  “We won’t be able to get them all, sir,” Legionary Ajax said in a hushed tone.

  “That’s right,” Stiger said. “You won’t be able to light them all, but any you do fire will likely cause the men from those tents to emerge unarmed and in a confused state. We will be right on your heels. Focus on getting as many as you can before the fighting starts.”

  “Yes, sir,” Ajax said. “What happens if we can’t get back to the line?”

  “There will be a lot of confusion,” Stiger said, fully understanding their concern. For a short time, they would be on their own. “When Sergeant Tiro with the rest of the company hits from the far side of the camp, the enemy should be reduced to a complete panic. If you can’t make it back to us, stick together and stay alive until we can get to you. It shouldn’t take long.” Stiger paused a heartbeat. “Any further questions?”

  Ajax and the other two shook their heads.

  Stiger motioned them down and out of view. He lowered himself, just enough that he could still see the enemy camp. Several watch fires lit the darkness, shining a wavering, yellowed light across the white canvas of the communal tents, which had been pitched in neat, ordered rows.

  Without the warmth of the sun, the temperature had dropped considerably. It was a sign that fall was just around the corner. As mute evidence to the chill in the air, an enemy sentry with his back to Stiger and the wheat field stood before one of the watch fires that bordered the camp. The man appeared to be warming his hands. It was an unforgivable breach, and had he been a legionary, the punishment would have been quite severe. A sentry’s duty was to keep a lookout, no matter the weather conditions. Attending to one’s own comfort was secondary.

  As it was, Stiger was glad that discipline was lacking amongst their enemy. It would make Bren, Varus, and Aronus’s job that much easier.

  A shadow rose behind the sentry, and in a heartbeat, the two merged into one form. It happened so fast that at first Stiger was not quite sure it occurred. There was a jerking movement, followed by one dragging the other back and out into the darkness, disappearing from view.

  The silencing of the enemy’s sentries had begun.

  Stiger stood, crouched over, and worked his way to four men who were lying prone just feet away. The men looked up at Stiger’s approach. He took a knee to keep from being spotted.

  “It should be soon,” Stiger informed them. “Any questions?”

  “No, sir,” Legionary Carata said. “As soon as you order the advance, we make for the mules and move them as fast as we can away from the camp. If the fight becomes contested, we will strike out to the southern end of the valley. There we will wait for the company to catch up.”

  “Excellent,” Stiger said, pleased. If the attack failed and he was unable to overwhelm and take the camp, at least they could use the enemy’s mules as walking rations. “See that no matter what happens we get those mules. We’re out of food and I for one would rather eat them than go hungry.”

  “We will, sir,” Carata said confidently, then cocked his head to one side. “You ever have mule before, sir?”

  “No, I can’t say that I have had the pleasure.”

  “Don’t rightly know about it being a pleasure, sir,” Carata said. “Tough and stringy, mule is. You might want to remind the boys before they go in, sir. It could motivate them a little.”

  “I’ll consider it,” Stiger said, amused.

  “Think they might have beef or salt pork over in that camp?” Legionary Barus said.

  “I’ve had enough salt pork to last me a lifetime,” Stiger said. “I’m just hoping they have some bacon, beef, and perhaps coffee.”

  The four men chuckled as Stiger turned and headed back to the fire party. As he arrived, Varus came hustling back, emerging like a wraith from the darkness. The corporal was wearing only his service tunic. There was a large dark stain on his chest, nearly dead center.

  “All set, sir,” Varus said between hea
vy breaths. “We’ve taken out all of the sentries. Lazy bastards were not even doing their duty proper-like. Bren and Aronus are on their way to alert Sergeant Tiro.”

  “Good work.” Stiger clapped the corporal on the shoulder. “Now get your kit on. Follow just as soon as you are able.”

  “Yes, sir.” Varus stepped over toward where the assault line was waiting, hidden amongst the wheat, as Stiger turned to the fire party.

  “It’s time,” Stiger said. “Good fortune.”

  The three men came to their feet. Careful to not make too much sound, they began moving toward the camp. Each carried an unlit makeshift torch, the end of which was thick with dried grass that had been tightly interwoven.

  Stiger watched them for a fraction of a second, then moved back to his assault force and retrieved his shield from where he had left it.

  “On your feet,” Stiger called, just loud enough to carry to his men and no farther. As if rising from the dead, the men stood, appearing where moments before nothing had been visible. They quickly dressed themselves upon one another, a task that was more difficult in the near darkness than it sounded. In short order, they were formed up into an assault line two ranks deep.

  “Draw swords.”

  The swords came out with a mass hiss. Stiger drew steel. He flexed his hand, finding a comfortable grip. Without verbalizing the command, he simply pointed toward the enemy camp and began walking. The two ranks followed. The sound of their footfalls was muffled by the wheat that, nearly ready for harvest, grew thick, tall, and golden brown.

  There was an abrupt clatter as two shields banged loudly together. Stiger felt himself frown. He turned to look, seeking out the careless culprits. A dog somewhere in the sacked town to his right began to bark, harsh and loud, drawing Stiger’s attention.

  Another dog joined the first. Stiger cursed silently in frustration. Surely the banging of the shields and the dogs would alert someone in the camp. He ground his teeth as the distance steadily closed.

  The dogs continued to bark.

  Stiger took a deep breath and calmed himself. There was nothing he could do. He was committed now. Thoughts of the plan he had settled on, a two-pronged assault, worried at him.