Imager’s Battalion

by Jr. L. E. Modesitt

  “That’s because you shielded her, sir. She knows that.”

  Quaeryt had his doubts about that, but only said, “She’s been good to me.” He wasn’t looking forward to the day’s ride, and he had the feeling many of the troopers likely weren’t, either, especially those in third company.

  Fifth Battalion led the column, and Skarpa rode beside Quaeryt under a hazy sky. Again, they saw no High Holdings anywhere near, and only two that might have been, in the distance to the west, down narrow lanes. Quaeryt couldn’t help but wonder why there were so few. He would have thought there would be more nearer to Variana. Then again, maybe it was just that there weren’t that many High Holdings. Even a thousand High Holders spread over a land the size of Bovaria would mean not that many all that close together.

  So why were there so many more closer to Ferravyl? Because of the Naedaran influence and affluence in the past? Trade on the river? Quaeryt had no idea, only possibilities.

  As the time neared third glass, Quaeryt noted that the sky had turned slightly darker with thin high gray clouds.

  “It’s a bit cooler,” observed Skarpa in the early afternoon. “Might get more so.”

  “I’ll take the heat if it means we don’t get cold rain,” replied Quaeryt.

  At a quint past first glass, a scout galloped back toward Quaeryt and Skarpa and pulled in beside the commander. “Sir! There are repaired holes on the side of the road ahead, and it looks like some of the paving stones have been replaced.”

  Skarpa turned in the saddle. “Column! Halt!” Then he turned his attention to the scout. “How far ahead?”

  “You see that pair of lowland pines on the right side of the road up there? Maybe a hundred yards past that … where that big lake and swamp begin, right west of the road. There are foot troopers on the flat farther along, but they’re not dug in. Didn’t see anything like cannon.”

  “What about repairs?” asked Skarpa. “Are they longwise, running the length of the road, or sideways?”

  “More like an angle, sir.”

  Skarpa and Quaeryt studied the terrain. Farther west was a thickly forested area that seemed to stretch for milles, with but a single narrow dirt road angling south and then west from the small hamlet north of the swamp-fringed lake. The forest came to within a few hundred yards of the lake at the south end, and within a mille or so farther north, the trees were practically on the shore.

  Quaeryt could also see that the narrow strip of land between the road and the river was low and open as well.

  “What do you think?” asked Skarpa.

  “The cannon have to be somewhere in front of the woods on the other side of south end of the lake,” suggested Quaeryt. “Maybe just inside the trees.”

  “That would account for the angle of the gouges in the road that they repaired.” The commander paused. “We couldn’t ride through the road ahead or the land flanking it without taking a lot of casualties … if they have cannon.”

  “Then we’ll have to see if they do and take their cannon. Once they’re gone, dealing with whatever forces are waiting beyond the low rise there shouldn’t be too great a problem.”

  Skarpa motioned the scout away, waited, then turned to Quaeryt. “Subcommander, I don’t do this often, but I’m ordering you not to lead or participate in this mission. You need to recover. Lord Bhayar and I will need you even more when we reach Variana. You are to send whatever imager undercaptains necessary, but you are not to be anywhere near those cannon. Fifth Battalion will bring up the rear when we attack the Bovarian forces ahead. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I will leave the details of how you plan and staff the imager operation to you. While you do, I’m going to inform the other subcommanders.”

  As Skarpa rode back along the column, Quaeryt considered, then sent for Major Arion and Shaelyt and Threkhyl.

  Once the three officers arrived, Quaeryt explained, in Bovarian. “The Bovarians appear to have set up another cannon trap, and from what we can tell, they’ve ranged the guns to the road and the land on this side of the lake. The woods there are too extensive to send all the regiments that way.”

  “What do you need from us, sir?” asked Arion.

  “I need fourth company to escort Undercaptain Shaelyt and Undercaptain Threkhyl close enough to where we believe the cannon are so that they can remove them. If the cannon aren’t there, of course, you’ll just return the way you came.”

  “We stand ready, sir,” replied Arion.

  “Good. Once I brief the undercaptains, they’ll join you.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  After the major rode away, Quaeryt addressed the two undercaptains in Tellan. “Shaelyt, your duty is to shield the company with a concealment from the time you leave the river road until you can get close enough for Threkhyl to take out the cannon.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “How am I supposed to do that?” demanded Threkhyl.

  “The same way I did yesterday. You image hundreds of tiny pieces of white-hot iron into the area where the cannon are. You keep doing it until one of them hits the powder and everything starts to explode. You’re a very strong imager, Undercaptain Threkhyl, and I have no doubts that you can do that.”

  “Yes, sir. Who’s in command?”

  “You’re both under Major Arion’s command, but Shaelyt is in charge of concealment, and you decide when and where to image against the cannon. Just don’t get any closer than necessary. That’s for your own protection. Now … go join Major Arion and fourth company.”

  Quaeryt watched as the two rode back past first company, then second.

  Skarpa returned shortly, and saw Quaeryt watching as fourth company prepared. “You have to send them out on their own.”

  “I’ve sent them out before.”

  “Not on anything like this, I’d wager.”

  Quaeryt knew the wager was rhetorical, but he didn’t have to like it, much as he knew sending the undercaptains out without him near was something he’d have to do more and more—even if the battle for Variana happened the next day and Bhayar won. That would be part of what imagers supporting Bhayar would have to do. You can’t do everything yourself.

  “Subcommander, if you’d order your battalion off the road so the others can move up…”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Once Fifth Battalion cleared the road, Quaeryt watched as fourth company vanished from sight. Then he waited … and waited.

  Nothing seemed to happen. Shaelyt held the concealment. The Telaryn forces remaining in formation on the river road did not move, and neither did the Bovarians, suggesting that the defenders had far too few troopers to attack … and were there only to force the issue by not allowing the Telaryn troopers to gallop through the gap between the lake and the river single file and widely spaced.

  Close to a glass passed. That worried Quaeryt. Shaelyt had never had to hold a concealment that long, but the young undercaptain apparently was managing, because neither Quaeryt nor Zhelan could catch sight of fourth company.

  “There!” said Zhelan, even as Quaeryt saw a small flare of light in one spot before the forest, much farther north than Quaeryt had estimated.

  The first point of light was followed by several others, and then by explosions and a roar like muted thunder as a section of forest some hundred yards wide disintegrated into broken trees and saplings, with smoke billowing up. Even as Quaeryt watched, flames began to lick what were likely dead trees or limbs.

  From the front of the column came a horn signal, and Third Regiment moved out at a quick trot. In time, the last squad of Fifth Regiment began to ride northward.

  A section of the forest was in full flames by the time Quaeryt nodded to Zhelan, and the major ordered, “Battalion! Forward!”

  Quaeryt kept glancing across the lake, but he saw nothing except smoke everywhere.

  Before that long, even Fifth Battalion had ridden north of the area that the cannon had ranged … and never fired at again. Quae
ryt kept looking across the lake and to the south, but between the almost imperceptible slope and the smoke, he could make out nothing.

  When they reached a point near the north end of the lake, east of where the Bovarian foot had been formed up, there were few signs of the Bovarians, only the troops of Third and Eleventh Regiments. Peering at the fields farther to the west, just at the edge of the forest, Quaeryt could see a handful of Bovarians sprinting toward the woods, pursued by Telaryn troopers. Those who reached the trees survived, because the Telaryn forces obeyed the orders not to break formation and did not enter the forest.

  Since there was little either Fifth Regiment or Fifth Battalion could accomplish by entering an already one-sided fight that was almost over, Meinyt and Quaeryt held their men in the five-front formation on the road, ready to move as necessary.

  Later, as Third and Eleventh Regiments re-formed, Quaeryt began to look for Arion and fourth company. Finally he saw riders appear on the river road behind them, riding slowly toward them. He realized that fourth company had likely had little choice, given the swampy ground around the lake, but to retrace their path back to the river road.

  “Major,” called Quaeryt, “I’m riding to the end of the battalion to meet fourth company. You’re in charge if the commander has any orders.” Not that it’s likely at the moment.

  When he reached the rear of Fifth Battalion, fourth company was still a good half mille away. Quaeryt forced himself to wait, although he eased the mare onto the west shoulder of the road, so that he could see what was happening to the west, what Zhelan might be doing, and still watch fourth company.

  It was well past fifth glass when the riders were close enough for Quaeryt to see them clearly. Arion and a squad leader were at the front of the column. Behind the major rode two rankers, stirrup to stirrup with Threkhyl, his visor cap gone, the rankers clearly supporting him. Behind them was another ranker leading a mount with a body strapped across it. The body bore a green undress officer’s shirt.

  Quaeryt swallowed, then rode forward as Arion signaled for a halt.

  “The mission was successful, sir,” Arion reported, his voice somber.

  Quaeryt glanced back along the company. He only saw a few empty saddles. “Thank you, Major.” After a silence, he asked, “What happened to the imagers?”

  Arion offered a sad smile. “I fear they were too successful, sir. There was more powder than we expected. After he fired the powder, Undercaptain Threkhyl created smoke to stop the few musketeers remaining. Then he collapsed, but he looks to recover. Your young undercaptain shielded us from the great explosion … until he could take no more. We tried to revive him. His body … it is red all over.”

  So much for setting an example of protecting others. “He was skilled and brave to the end.” Too skilled and brave. Quaeryt’s eyes were burning.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Thank you, Major.” He paused. “The fighting here is almost over. We’re awaiting orders.” Then he turned the mare. It was best that no one saw the tears.

  76

  In the end, Skarpa ordered the regiments and Fifth Battalion to set up an encampment that took in the small hamlet near the battle, if it could even have been called that. Quaeryt did not seek out Skarpa, but made certain that Zhelan had Fifth Battalion well in hand … and that Threkhyl was only exhausted.

  “… be fine,” mumbled the burly older ginger-beard before collapsing into a sleep that was as much unconsciousness as slumber.

  After settling Threkhyl, Quaeryt gathered the remaining imager undercaptains and briefed them, quietly and quickly. All of them were somber, as if it had taken Shaelyt’s death to make the point that even shielded imagers could die. Then Quaeryt walked out into the gathering twilight, standing alone, his eyes looking vaguely south in the direction of the lake he could not see because of a slight slope.

  Khalis followed, saying nothing, standing well back.

  Finally, Quaeryt turned. “Yes?”

  “Sir … you would have gone, wouldn’t you? Except the commander ordered you not to.”

  Quaeryt nodded.

  “With all due respect, sir…”

  Quaeryt almost grinned at the phrase usually used by squad leaders coming from the youngest Pharsi undercaptain, but just waited.

  “… he was right, sir. We can do much of what you can, but there isn’t anyone to replace you.”

  “The commander made that point. He was right. I don’t have to like it.”

  “Sir … there’s something else. Something Shaelyt told me.”

  Again, Quaeryt waited.

  “He … he said … that … if anything happened to you … there wouldn’t be another lost one … not for generations … maybe not ever…”

  “He told you that?”

  “He told me and Lhandor. He made us promise … well … to do what we could, sir.”

  Wonderful … not only do you have to find a way to have Bhayar win against cannon and muskets … but you’re being told that the hopes of the Pharsi ride on your shoulders. What in the Nameless’s sake do you say to that?

  “Shaelyt was a good man, a very good officer and imager, especially for one with so little experience. He may have thought I’m more than I am.” More than any man could possibly be.

  “Sir…”

  “We all do what we can and what we must. I will do that, and I appreciate your loyalty and support. But … do not make me into more than I am. I’ve made mistakes, and I’ll doubtless make them again, as will you and every other officer. We can only learn from our failures and strive to do better.”

  “Yes, sir.” After a pause, Khalis added, “Thank you, sir. I think I’ll check on Threkhyl.”

  In the late twilight, Quaeryt slowly walked back to the cot that held the battered imager, thinking. Another handful or two of cannon … and one less imager … a good solid young man … and a bit more powder and Threkhyl might not have survived, either. You could have been killed the last time. He shook his head. There had to be another, better way to deal with muskets and cannon. And then there was also the risk associated with trying to gain even greater imaging abilities. At some point, will you just attempt too much?

  He had too few imagers, and cannon had been more of an encumbrance than useful in all the fighting in Telaryn’s history. There might be a hundred cannon in all of Telaryn, and none of them particularly mobile or suited for land wars.

  He was still pondering when Skarpa arrived. In fact, he only realized the commander was there when Skarpa spoke.

  “I heard you lost Undercaptain Shaelyt. I’m sorry.”

  “Thank you.” Quaeryt nodded. He didn’t really want to say what he felt. “Undercaptain Threkhyl looks to recover, but he’ll not be at any strength for a few days.” If not longer.

  “I had the engineers check things after the fires died down. There were more than twenty cannon there. They had enough of those explosive cannonballs to take out several regiments.”

  “They didn’t have that many foot troops.”

  “No. Three battalions at most. You know what that suggests, don’t you?”

  “That they have plenty of cannon and that they’re saving their troops for the invasion of Telaryn after they smash us at Variana?”

  “I don’t know it’s that bad. It is a matter of concern. I’ll be sending a dispatch to the marshal shortly. Is there anything you’d like to add?”

  “You might make sure that your report mentions the death in action of imager Undercaptain Shaelyt, and the near-death of Undercaptain Threkhyl. I’m certain that the marshal and submarshal would wish to know that.”

  Skarpa stiffened, just slightly, for a moment before speaking in a softer voice. “I’m sorry, Quaeryt, but it could have been you, especially since you’ve not fully recovered. We need you more than we needed the undercaptain, and there are times when good officers die, no matter how well we plan.”

  But there are so few imagers … so few … “You’re right, sir, but he was one of
the best and most talented.”

  “Only because you trained him and pushed him. Remember that.” Skarpa turned. “Now get some rest. We’ll be at the edge of Variana tomorrow … or fighting another skirmish to get there. There will likely be more cannon.”

  Is there any doubt? “We’ll do what we can, sir.”

  “I know. You always do.”

  After Skarpa rode off, Quaeryt looked into the night sky, where Erion was nearly overhead, seeming redder than usual, although that might have been his state of mind. So much for Erion favoring the lost ones of the Pharsi.

  He took a long slow deep breath, still looking in the direction of the lake he could not see, with the acrid scents of exploded powder and wood smoke burning his nostrils and his eyes. He wouldn’t be able to sleep, not yet, not after brooding about Shaelyt. The young imager had shown such dedication, such promise, and then … he was gone, and not even in a major battle.

  77

  Even by seventh glass on Lundi morning, Skarpa had issued no orders to break camp and to proceed, and for a time Quaeryt wondered why … until he realized that they were most likely far less than ten milles from the outskirts of Variana. That was confirmed when he overheard one of the scouts saying that once over the rise to the north, there were cots and small holdings stretching to the north and west as far as the eye could see.

  So he and Zhelan wrote up the papers dealing with the death of Shaelyt and the few others from fourth company who’d been killed. When Quaeryt finished signing them, he went outside the cot he’d taken and looked northward. The sky was still hazy with a few high thin clouds, and the faintest hint of a breeze out of the northeast.

  He’d been standing there, thinking about Shaelyt, when a squad leader rode up and halted his mount.

  “Subcommander, sir, the commander requests that all subcommanders join him outside the large cot with the hedge on the south side,” said the squad leader, pointing. “That way, sir. It’s about a hundred yards.”

  “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure, sir.”

  Once the trooper had ridden off, Quaeryt began to walk in the direction he had indicated. As he neared the next cot, he caught sight, if but for a moment, of a small gray cat in the calf-high grass at the side of the cot. Then it was gone, possibly under the dwelling.