Imager’s Battalion

by Jr. L. E. Modesitt

  The first step had been easy enough. He’d managed that two days earlier. He’d just imaged a tiny stone tower, no more than the length of his middle finger, into being at the edge of the water, drawing heat from the surrounding water. A thin film of ice extended little more than two fingertips from the stone tower. The second step was to image the little tower out of existence while drawing heat from the water. That had taken him almost two days of intermittent effort to work out. Destroying the tiny tower hadn’t been hard at all, but finding a way to obtain the strength to do the imaging from the water had been the hard part. Once he’d mastered the technique, it was actually less tiring, he could tell, even on that small a scale, than imaging without seeking sources of heat.

  Of course, it wouldn’t work all that well in the winter. Or if there isn’t a lake or a big river nearby.

  “Subcommander, sir!”

  He turned to see Lhandor riding toward him, leading Quaeryt’s mare. Riding beside the young Pharsi officer was another undercaptain Quaeryt did not recognize.

  “Sir, Lord Bhayar would like to see you,” said the undercaptain. “I’m to escort you, but Undercaptain Lhandor may certainly accompany you.”

  “Good,” said Quaeryt, taking the mare’s reins from Lhandor and mounting.

  The undercaptain led the way around the northeast side of the lake, past the large briefing tent and then into an encampment surrounding a second tent barely smaller than the briefing tent. He reined up before the squad of troopers stationed in front of and around the tent.

  A major, another officer Quaeryt had not met, stepped forward as Quaeryt dismounted. “Lord Bhayar awaits you, Subcommander.”

  “Thank you.”

  One of the troopers lifted the tent flap for Quaeryt, then dropped it behind him.

  Inside, the tent was partitioned into two sections, one containing a camp bed and a chest, and no one. Quaeryt pushed aside the flap to the other side. Bhayar rose from a small desk, the kind that could be folded into a flat oblong to fit in a wagon. The wooden stool on which he had been seated had a thin cushion that fell to the plain gray carpet that covered the ground as Bhayar rose. Hangings ran from the tent ridge poles to the carpet, enclosing the area around Bhayar and the desk. A small noisy burbling fountain, clearly fed from a tank set on stakes, stood in one corner. The space felt confining, close, and Quaeryt couldn’t help but frown when his eyes lighted on the fountain.

  Bhayar laughed. “The hangings and the fountain make it hard to overhear what is said here … if one speaks quietly and not at a great distance from me.”

  “What might I do for you?” asked Quaeryt.

  “Kharst has twice the troops we do, not to mention muskets and cannon,” said Bhayar mildly, adding, “And while there are high clouds, there do not appear to be any heavy rainstorms in sight. I understand you also lost one of your imager undercaptains.”

  “Undercaptain Shaelyt. He was one of the most promising.”

  “How did that come about?”

  “I was injured in the first cannon attack last Samedi, and we ran into evidence of another cannon emplacement on Solayi…” Quaeryt went on to explain what happened.

  “Skarpa was right,” said Bhayar. “You are not indestructible, Quaeryt.”

  “I know that.”

  “There are times when you have to let others die, and you will again.”

  Quaeryt knew that as well, but he only nodded.

  “You have lost two out of ten, or eleven if you count yourself. You must find a way to prevail, Quaeryt, one that preserves most of our forces and few of theirs.”

  “And if I do?”

  “Then I can claim that the valiant efforts of the imagers who sacrificed much made it possible … and you will have what you want for imagers.”

  “If my plans meet your approval. And if you prevail … as a result of our efforts, but—”

  “Do not mention such.” Bhayar paused, then added, “A debt is still a debt.” After yet another pause, he asked, “Do you have any plan that might work? Better than charging cannon and exploding the powder?”

  “There is one possibility,” Quaeryt conceded, “but it can succeed only if you do not reveal all of it. And if Kharst has no imagers to counter us.”

  “It appears he has few, or so we have been led to believe, and they remain far from him and close to his commanders. He distrusts them.”

  That’s not exactly surprising, given what we’ve seen of how he handles High Holders. “You might think about this, sir. So far as I can determine, cannon and muskets are by far the most effective weapons against imagers. All imagers were on the south side of the River Aluse. So were all cannon and musket attacks, even though the forces on the north side of the river, until you reached Caluse, far outnumbered those on the south side.”

  Bhayar frowned. “I had not heard that.”

  “It is true, so far as Commander Skarpa has been able to ascertain. That is why I would ask that you not tell anyone all of what we are about to discuss.”

  “I must be the judge of that.”

  “Of course. But our lives and what we can do are then in your hands.”

  “Tell me.”

  Quaeryt did, beginning with those strengths and limitations of imaging that might apply to the attack on Kharst’s forces.

  When he had finished, Bhayar asked, “Will this work? How much will it harm our forces?”

  “I believe it is workable. It is also dangerous. Any great imaging is, even when it goes exactly as planned. And you have no idea whether this will.

  “I fear we must risk it.”

  “Are you certain that most of Kharst’s troops are surrounding his chateau or near the defensive earthworks?”

  “They appear to be, but one can be certain of nothing in war. You should have learned that by now.”

  “I have, but it is best to start from what is known.”

  Bhayar began to point out positions on the map that lay on the small writing desk.

  A quint later, Quaeryt left the tent.

  Lhandor was still waiting.

  Neither spoke until they had left Bhayar’s encampment.

  “Can you tell me anything of what Lord Bhayar said?” asked Lhandor, riding closely beside Quaeryt.

  “Very little,” replied Quaeryt. “He wants us to be careful that we do not waste our abilities on matters that will not count in affecting the result of the battle … and the war.”

  “He told you not to hesitate in sacrificing us if it would preserve you, did he not?”

  “No. He said that none of us were to waste ourselves.”

  “I fear I did not say what I meant. I meant that you must be preserved to do what only you can.”

  “Have you been talking to Khalis, Lhandor?” Quaeryt’s tone was skeptically sardonic.

  “About what, sir? We often talk.”

  “Never mind.” Quaeryt shook his head. “When we get back to the encampment, you need to gather the imager undercaptains and Major Zhelan.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  Don’t be so frigging enthusiastic, for the Nameless’s sake. Quaeryt was all too aware that what he planned could kill all of them if he didn’t do it perfectly … and might well, anyway.

  80

  Interestingly enough, at least to Quaeryt, was the fact Deucalon canceled without explanation the Jeudi evening briefing for senior officers, which had been scheduled for sixth glass. Even more interesting was the order waking the entire combined armies at fifth glass on Vendrei morning and ordering the advance on Variana to begin at sixth glass. Most interesting of all was the envelope sealed with Bhayar’s personal signet that the unnamed undercaptain delivered to Quaeryt at a quint past fifth glass Vendrei morning.

  “You’re to open this, sir, read it, but not to tell me what it says, and then acknowledge that you have read it and will comply.”

  Quaeryt studied the seal, then broke it, opened the envelope, and extracted the single sheet of heavy paper. The message was sim
ple enough.

  Proceed as we discussed. Use your own judgment as to timing and positioning after the assault begins. Fifth Battalion will be initially placed to the east of the center of the attack, directly behind another regiment of Commander Skarpa’s choosing. You are not to lead any charges.

  Behind another regiment of Skarpa’s choosing?

  Beneath the words was the single initial “B.”

  Quaeryt folded the sheet and replaced it in the envelope, then looked up. “You can convey that I’ve read the message, that I understand it, and will comply.” To the best of my ability and that of the imagers.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Once he’d seen the undercaptain off, Quaeryt gathered the imagers inside the cot. “It appears we’ll be attacking Variana today. It also appears that we will not be in the van, but slightly back. Once we move into position, we will assume a five-front formation, with Undercaptains Voltyr, Threkhyl, Lhandor, and Khalis flanking me, and Horan, Smaethyl, Baelthm, and Desyrk in the line behind us. First company will be directly behind us, and if necessary the other battalion companies may flank us…”

  After finishing his briefing and ordering the imagers to make ready to mount up, Quaeryt then summoned and addressed the company officers. “We’re being ordered to attack Kharst’s defenses and his chateau at Variana. It’s called Chateau Regis, if anyone cares to know. Fifth Battalion will initially follow whatever regiment Commander Skarpa chooses, and we will be to the right of the center of the main thrust. First company will lead … with all imagers flanking or directly behind me … I have direct orders from Lord Bhayar to take independent action at any time I see fit…” When he finished, he asked, “Are there any questions?”

  “Begging your pardon, sir,” offered Zhelan, “but we’re going to ride straight into the muskets and cannon of the Bovarians?”

  “We likely won’t, but some of the marshal’s regiments will.”

  “Sir…? Behind another regiment?”

  “The Bovarians have muskets and cannon, as you’ve just pointed out. They know we’ve almost always led. If we’re in front, the imagers will spend all their imaging shielding, and none will be able to do any damage to the Bovarians. Whatever regiment leads us is Commander Skarpa’s decision. That’s up to him. We need to get as many of the Bovarians as close together as possible. Picking off isolated units doesn’t work very well when there are likely to be more troops in any of their isolated units than we have in three regiments.”

  “That’s so you can do something with the imagers?”

  “That’s the idea.” Whether it will work that way is another question. It should, Quaeryt thought. He’d tested all the aspects of it on a small scale. A much smaller scale. “Remember, keep your men from doing anything stupid. Even after this battle there are bound to be other battles, and we’ll need every man until this war is over.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Then Quaeryt left the company officers to Zhelan and went to see to his own preparations. As he mentally reviewed what he planned, another thought came to him. You should have written one more letter to Vaelora.

  He shook his head with a rueful smile. That’s too fatalistic. And yet, while he knew that thought might nag him, all he could do was push it away as he continued with his preparations.

  Less than a quint later, as the regiments were forming, before Quaeryt had mounted, Skarpa rode up, not dismounting, but motioning for Quaeryt to join him well away from the others.

  In the gray light before dawn, Quaeryt did so. “Yes, sir?”

  “Once we assemble for the attack on Kharst’s defenses, we’ll form the second prong of the attack to the right of the main thrust—which the submarshal will direct. I’ve been ordered to place Fifth Battalion behind another regiment, and I’ve chosen Eleventh Regiment, but to allow you full freedom of movement. No one mentioned Fifth Battalion in the order of movement, and I was told not to tell anyone. Fifth Battalion is not even in the written orders of battle. That was your doing?”

  “Yes, sir. Well … it was my request. That was to keep—”

  “I know. It won’t keep them from finding out. It will just take longer.”

  “That was the idea.” And it will also likely mean that some of the regiments in front will get pounded by cannon fire. Unhappily Quaeryt knew why Skarpa had chosen Eleventh Regiment, and Skarpa knew that Quaeryt knew or would figure it out.

  “Will whatever you plan work?”

  “Yes, sir. I just don’t know if it will work well enough.”

  “And if it doesn’t work, it will be an even bloodier day?”

  “Yes, sir.” As it will if it does.

  Skarpa nodded. “You’ve got less than three quints to have Fifth Battalion in formation, ready to ride.”

  “We’ll be there.”

  Fifth Battalion was mounted in formation, if only half a quint before the glass. Quaeryt and Zhelan weren’t about to rush matters on what would be a too-long day.

  At what was likely sixth glass, from well ahead of Fifth Battalion came the horn signals, but almost a quint passed before the last company in Eleventh Regiment began to move, and Fifth Battalion followed those troopers across the fields and onto the gray stone road toward Variana.

  Quaeryt listened, almost absently, as he rode northward on the gray stone road.

  “… subcommander hasn’t said much…”

  “… never does before a fight…”

  “… good … waste of breath … what will be will be…”

  Unless you can change it, reflected Quaeryt.

  As they passed more shuttered and abandoned cots along the river road, spaced ever more closely together as they neared the south of Variana, the already few comments died away, possibly because of Quaeryt’s palpable reserve.

  The sun, struggling to break through the thin gray clouds that had been almost constant for the past several days, was barely visible above the rooftops of Variana on the east side of the River Aluse by the time the Telaryn forces were in position, almost a mille back from the first line of earthworks. The air was cool, but not chill, and still, without the slightest breeze.

  Quaeryt surveyed the terrain as best he could, from the grass that had not so long before been cut, to the few perfectly placed trees and the lack of tenant cots that showed the fact that the area had indeed been a hunting park. Then he studied the Bovarian positions. While it was obvious that the defensive emplacements were fully manned, and primarily by men with pikes behind the first line of earthworks, Quaeryt noted that the top of the second line of earthworks was all exactly the same height, as if it had been measured with a spirit level.

  Why would that be? Then he nodded. That was where the muskets were, high enough to fire over the first defenders, and low enough to rake the attackers on the level ground before the earthworks—as well as whatever imagers were riding in the fore. He could also see that Deucalon had recognized that also, because, behind the first line of regiments, the other regiments were being moved slightly, enough so that they could charge to the sides once the attack began in earnest.

  Even so, Quaeryt could also see that huge numbers of Bovarian troops remained farther up the slope, presumably so that they could move down to wherever the lines were threatened, or to take the offensive in any place where the Telaryn attack showed vulnerability. In one place, their gray-blue uniforms almost seemed to blend into the light gray stone of the top of the Chateau Regis, a good mille to the north.

  What he had planned would likely not work, or not work well, unless more of the Bovarians could be drawn farther downhill, nearer the initial fray. Quaeryt didn’t like what that would cost in Telaryn casualties, but it might be that he could use some targeted imaging to make the Bovarian commanders commit more troopers earlier.

  In one respect, the entire battle was almost senseless, since neither side actually had to fight at the present time and place. Certainly losing Kharst’s chateau would not have been that great a loss for the rex, and Bhayar
could have moved his troops around the massed Bovarians to take lands and wait for greater advantage. In another respect, it was absolutely necessary. Kharst couldn’t afford to leave more than twenty Telaryn regiments intact and operational in the middle of Bovaria, while Bhayar needed a decisive and absolute victory well before mid-fall in order to consolidate his position and gain control of the midsection of Bovaria—at the very least—before the onset of late fall and winter.

  But then, Quaeryt reflected, similar rationales have been the reason for most large battles in history. He glanced to one side, then the other. The two Pharsi undercaptains were on his right, with Voltyr and Threkhyl on his left.

  “… when they going to do something?” muttered Threkhyl under his breath.

  “Soon enough,” replied Voltyr curtly, if in a low voice.

  Quaeryt forced himself to wait. Doing anything too early would ruin his plans. And so would doing what was necessary too late.

  Another quint passed … and still none of the Telaryn forces moved.

  The horns sounded again, and the first Telaryn regiments began to move forward, slowly, giving themselves the chance to move quickly when necessary or to mitigate the effect of musket fire.

  Quaeryt expected some cannon fire from the Bovarians almost immediately, but the morning was quiet, with only the sound of the horns and the drumming of hooves.

  No cannon yet? Or muskets? Concern over powder? Or premeasured and ranged target points?

  Quaeryt looked northward once more. The whitish gray walls of the Chateau Regis rose above everything, unsurprisingly, since it was a tall oblong structure with its longest sides running north and south located on the highest hill west of the River Aluse … more than a mille from the river and directly west of the single isle in the middle of the river, an isle used mainly by factors for warehouses, and piers for barges and flatboats, at least by its appearance and the weathered look of the structures.

  Waste of a perfectly good isle, thought Quaeryt absently. Then he concentrated on what was beginning to happen before him … and what was not. The first line of defenders extended pikes, or more likely braced them against the rear of the narrow trenches in which they waited so that the first earthworks bristled.