Alucius went over his riding gear. All the time, he just hoped that the captain had a very good plan. He had barely returned to the barracks when Delar and Geran appeared.
'The captain wants to see all scouts," Delar said. "In his study."
Alucius and Geran followed orders and made their way to the captain's study.
Ilten was waiting, as were several other scouts—Syurn, Henaar, and Waltar.
'The captain will be here in a moment," offered Ilten, who resumed smoothing out a long map on the table.
'This one's not going to be so easy," Geran predicted in a low voice. "The captain's going to want to know where everything is—sentries, picket lines—"
Ilten lifted his head and cleared his throat—loudly. "You might be right, Geran, but why don't you let the captain tell you?"
'Yes, sir." Geran did not sound abashed.
Two other scouts that Alucius did not know by name stepped into the room, so that seven scouts stood around the table.
Almost immediately, Captain Heald appeared. "I'm glad to see all of you. Before we can act, we need to know where the Matrites are set up—if they are, or if they're still on the march, and what their deployment or their camp layout is. Our patrols haven't seen them within six vingts of here on the midroad. There's only one decent stead out there—I sent a messenger, suggested to the herders that they leave, but we don't know if they did. Place would make a solid bivouac—with shelter for the troopers and most mounts. It's about eight vingts out, just at the base of the hills. I'd camp there, but that doesn't mean they will."
Heald paused and focused on the senior scout. "Geran, you'll be in charge of the scouts."
'Yes, sir."
'Once you have an idea of where the Matrites are, I want half of you to swing south of the road, and half north and each take a quarter. Geran will assign you as he thinks best. Try not to be seen. Don't do anything stupid. We'll need every one of you before this is all over." The captain looked from scout to scout, ending up with Geran. "I expect you all on the road in less than a quarter glass. Dismissed."
'Yes, sir," replied Geran.
Alucius waited for Geran to move, and then followed the older scout out and toward the barracks bay, where they collected their gear.
'Road patrols didn't tell him enough," Geran said to Alucius as the two walked toward the stable. "They never do."
'You think the Matrites are at that stead?"
'Where else?" Geran laughed. "In this weather, you go for shelter. They haven't tried to take Soulend. That doesn't leave much this far north."
After saddling their mounts and packing their gear, the two waited with their mounts.inside the stable doors until they were joined by all of the other five scouts. Then, without ceremony, they led their mounts out into the chill, mounted, and rode away from the post and onto the midroad. Alucius rode alongside Geran, and Henaar and Waltar were immediately behind them.
Except for the road patrol, the midroad was empty, a gray line stretching westward all the way to the ruins of ancient Elcien, though that was more than six hundred vingts away. Alucius wondered if the road remained as untouched there as in the Iron Valleys.
By midmorning, a half-glass later and two vingts west of the militia outpost, there was still no wind to speak of. From the clouds to the west, Alucius knew another storm would be coming in. The snow had not melted in most places, but light as it was, the previous day's wind had swirled it into heaps around the quarasote bushes, so that the ground resembled a patchwork of snow, gray-green quarasote bushes, and red-sandy soil. Although he had a riding scarf wrapped across his face, it wasn't nearly so warm as the skull-mask. That was tucked inside his tunic.
Geran finally turned in the saddle and studied the six other scouts. "I'd like Narlet, Balant, and Syurn to take the north side of the midroad when the time comes. You probably won't have to circle out as far because the stead is on the south side, but there is one shed on the north, and they might have mounts or foot there… Waltar, on the south side, you'll have the quarter just south of the road, and I'll take the one after that. Henaar will take the south-southwest quarter, and Alucius will take the quarter south of the road on the west end of the stead. Remember, we need information. It doesn't do much good to leave your dead body there because we don't get any information at all that way, and killing one or two Matrites won't change much…"
Alucius knew that part of the orders was for him, although Geran never looked in his direction.
'We won't try to meet. Once you've gotten as much information as you can, withdraw and take it back to Ilten and the captain at the outpost. Any questions?"
'Ah… does anyone know what happened to Welkar?" That came from Narlet, a stocky scout from the third squad, not much older looking than Alucius.
'No one's seen him," Geran said. "He still could be out there. Or…"
The others nodded.
After yet another half-glass of measured riding on the midroad, they all could see thin trails of smoke rising into a sky that was becoming less silver-green and grayer and grayer.
'Captain was right," murmured Henaar from where he rode behind Alucius. "Too many fires for a normal stead."
Even without the smoke, and from more than four vingts away, the concentration of Matrite troopers was obvious to Alucius's Talent-senses, the grayness so blatant that he half-wondered why he hadn't felt it when he'd neared the previous Matrite encampment while he had been tracking the two patrol survivors. Had he been too tired? Or did the "grayness" just blend into all the other sensations until he'd become aware of what it meant? "Halt!"
Geran's order nearly took Alucius by surprise, so preoccupied with Talent-sensing he had been, but he managed to pull up the gray with the other scouts.
'We're nearing where they'll have road patrols, if they have any sense," Geran said. "Time to break off and circle around. Some of you may not be able to get close. If there's no cover, no washes, or gulches, or trees… don't force it. Just watch from a distance." Henaar nodded. So did Waltar.
As Waltar angled away from the road and toward what looked like a low wash, Geran led Alucius and Henaar on a circuitous path behind another low rise that was barely perceptible. Once they were behind the rise, they couldn't see the lower sections of the smoke trails—or be seen by any road patrols that the Matrites might dispatch.
After they had traveled another two vingts and crossed a low depression to yet another long and low rise, Geran reined up. So did Henaar and Alucius.
'I'll be heading north-northwest from here. I'd judge you'll need to ride another vingt or so before you head in, Henaar. Alucius—I'd make sure you're almost in the hills before you head in, just south of the road."
As Henaar and Alucius continued riding, now moving almost due west, the wind picked up, even colder than the day before, and coming from a few points to the east of due north.
Henaar finally reined up, looking northward. "Looks like there's a series of little rises I can move north behind."
'Good luck," Alucius said. "I'll see you back with the company."
'Same to you."
Once he was well clear of Henaar, Alucius took off his winter cap and slipped the skull-mask out of his tunic. As before, it took a while to work it into place. Then he put his cap back on. Mindful of Geran's advice, he did not even begin to ease his way northward until the low rises began to resemble small hills, and showed scattered low pines and junipers. His Talent-senses told him that, except for small wildlife, there were no large living things within nearly a vingt, although he could sense the mass of gray that was the Matrite force to the northeast.
Another half glass later, he studied the land from the concealment of a juniper at the crest of a low hill, taking in the stead in the distance to the northeast. He began to move more to the east, through the junipers that offered concealment, but before long, he began to sense riders. From the grayness he felt, he judged they were Matrite riders.
Riding farther eastward and north, he found a l
ow hill that offered more cover, and one where he could sense at least one rider somewhere beyond the eastern side. Alucius tied the gray on the back side of the rise, in the middle of a clump of junipers halfway up. He took the rifle as he made his way up the rest of the hill, then settled behind the base of an older pine to survey the area. The trees thinned on the east side of the rise below him, and continued to become more and more spread toward the flat to the east, where there were few trees and more than a few scattered quarasote bushes.
With the wind now blowing out of the northeast, he could smell the cookfires—and an odor that was familiar—and yet not. After a moment, he realized it was the smell of fresh-cooked nightsheep. A cold smile crossed his face. If roasted nightsheep were what the Matrites were eating, there would be a number of very sick troopers for several days, unless they were very different from other people, and he doubted that. Only the sandwolves, the grayjays, the black vultures, and a handful of other animals could tolerate nightsheep meat without adverse effects.
He could sense someone nearing—not that close, but close enough for him to be careful.
Below the rise, well back in the wide flat that was almost a valley, a Matrite trooper rode north, toward the midroad. Alucius watched as the man, his breath a white fog in the early afternoon, let his mount carry him northward until he reached the midroad. There, the mounted sentry surveyed the road, before turning his mount and riding back past Alucius.
Alucius waited until the picket rider rode his post a second time and passed southward once more. The rider took almost a quarter glass each way on his post. Alucius's Talent-senses showed him that there were others not too far away, and, of course, a pack of sandwolves farther to the northwest. He did not sense any sanders—or soarers.
Once the picket rider was out of sight, Alucius slipped down the gentle slope, easing from tree to tree, still carrying the heavy rifle. He vowed to concentrate on following Geran's example, to pick up information in ways that would be effective and less dangerous.
On the flat, the trees were spread farther apart, and Alucius moved deliberately from tree to tree, keeping low and moving slowly, trying to make sure he was concealed from the picket he had slipped past, as well as any sentries he might find ahead.
He found them, mainly through his Talent-sense—single foot patrols, each waiting behind the few remaining pines, each with a thin-looking rifle. The three posts he could find were each roughly a hundred yards from the next. Lying nearly flat, he checked his map against what he could see, and against where he knew the midroad to be.
Crack! The sound of the rifle was higher and thinner than those used by the militia, and Alucius froze, trying to determine if he had been seen. But he heard nothing, and he could sense no one moving toward him—or any of the sentries moving at all. The report had been close enough that it had to have been one of the foot sentries.
He forced himself to wait, to be patient, as his grandsire had told him, because he kn.ew that he hadn't been seen. He would have sensed something—fear, excitement, apprehension. But why had a sentry fired? Or had the trooper fired at a grayjay or a scrat?
A good half glass passed, during which Alucius memorized as he could the positions of the sentries. There seemed to be little but open space—and scattered quarasote bushes—between the foot sentries and the stead and bivouac area. Certainly, neither his senses nor his eyes revealed any movement there, and it was open enough that the only way to cross it would be on his stomach—after taking out at least one sentry.
No other sentries fired weapons, and finally, Alucius squirmed his way back around the quarasote bushes and spines, back over one low rise, and then another, until he could sense the mounted picket. He waited some more, before he eventually slipped back to his mount.
He rode northward another half vingt to where he could clearly see the midroad from a taller hill. There was a hastily built revetment post of heaped earth with at least eight foot troopers guarding the road.
Then, in the light that was well past midafternoon, Alucius turned his mount back south and then eastward, feeling that he should have discovered more, but knowing that he didn't know enough to have done so, not without killing someone—and he'd been effectively ordered not to do anything of the sort.
As he rode eastward, well south of the midroad and the Matrite sentry lines, the wind blew into the side of his face, and he was glad for the skull-mask, and sorry that he did not dare to wear it except when alone, because the woolen scarf was barely adequate to protect his face against frostbite in the chill northern winds.
Although he was the last scout to return—well after twilight—and report his findings, Alucius managed to get dinner from the cooks before Geran found him in a corner of the mess.
'Thought you might be here. How did it go?"
'Long… cold," mumbled Alucius through a mouthful of overcooked stew. He took another bite of the bread, and a swallow of cider that was beginning to turn. "Picket sentries and foot inside them. Someone shot at a scrat or something. Thought they'd seen me." He took another mouthful of the barely warm stew.
'The captain and Ilten want all the scouts in a meeting."
'Now?" Alucius took another gulp of cider.
'Now."
Alucius groaned and gulped down another mouthful before rising and carrying the platter back to the mess boy. Then he followed Geran.
The captain's room was crowded, with Heald, Ilten, Troas—the undercaptain of the foot company—and his senior squad leader, and the five squad leaders of Third Company seated around the long table, and the seven scouts standing behind them.
The captain looked around the room, then cleared his throat, before speaking. "I've heard from all the scouts. We're looking at a force of four to five companies of horse, possibly twice that many of heavy foot. They also have wagons not being used for food or transport, and that might mean some sort of weapons we haven't seen." Heald offered a grim smile. "We have a company of horse, and one of foot, and it will be at least a week before we get reinforcements."
Left unsaid was the possibility that they might get no reinforcements.
'We have to stop them, or at least slow them down. They've got more men and equipment. What we have to work with is the land and the winter. They've already lost a few men to sandwolves and Reillies, and Ilten and I have come up with a plan that should cost them even more, and shouldn't cost us much at all." The captain stood and pointed to the hand-drawn map on the table. "Once I've explained the plan, I'd like all of you, including the scouts, to take a good look at the map. That's so you'll see how your actions fit into the plan."
'First, we're going to set up before dawn. The plan is simple enough. They've got heavy patrols and revetments on the midroad. They've already figured that we're not likely to attack through the quarasote flats, not with what it can do to a mount at full speed or a footman under attack. They're wrong." Heald grinned.
Even Ilten smiled, if faintly.
'We've found a road—a lane, really, but it's clear of quarasote, that runs within a half vingt of the south side of the stead where they've camped. We'll attack before dawn tomorrow. But it'll be a different kind of attack. It'll be two-pronged. First, most of their mounts are in the old main nightsheep shed. Strong place. Stone walls, slate roof, hard-packed floor. The scouts are going to take out the sentries in the southeast quarter. Then fifth squad will ride in and storm the shed entrance, and throw in some special explosives and a few other items—and jam the doors shut. That will make a dent in their mounts and horse teams. Then, fifth squad will withdraw—and wait in plain sight. When they counterattack, we'll spring the second trap." Heald smiled, and nodded at Ilten.
'They've got sentries posted in two circles," the senior squad leader began, "one set of foot about a half vingt out, between fifty and a hundred yards apart. Another half vingt out, they have picket lines, roving patrols. It's a thin line of sentries, and we think they can be taken out. They'll hear some shots in the dim lig
ht, but they won't be sure where they're coming from."
'What about the quarasote?" asked the undercaptain. "That'll cut up men and mounts."
'There's a back lane on the south side that runs almost parallel to the midroad for about a vingt before it turns south," Heald replied. "The quarasote bushes are thick there. We've got five squads of foot. I want them set up just outside the Matrite perimeter. Then, when the scouts take out the sentries, they'll move forward through the quarasote here—" Heald pointed to a spot on the map to the south of the stead and the midroad.
'The Matrite horse will run them down," the undercaptain of foot protested. "You can't be sure of getting all their mounts."
'Not through quarasote that thick. They'll charge, and they'll lose a good third of their mounts. Your men will be in three lines. The first line will fire—one or two volleys—and then retreat to behind the third line. Once the first line is past, the second line will fire…
'They'll charge, you really think, and lose mounts?"
'If they don't," Heald pointed out, "they'll lose troopers, and we won't."
'What if they just stay put in the stead, sir?" asked Wualt, the first squad leader.
'Then, we'll start taking out their troopers all across the south side," Heald replied. "If they won't counterattack… we'll start making small raids on their sentry posts, day after day. The more Matrites we kill before we have to fight a pitched battle, the better."
Alucius didn't question the logic, but wondered how long those tactics would work if the Matrites just massed their forces and moved on Soulend. Unlike most of the troopers, who came from nearer the River Vedra, Alucius knew how difficult it was to live off the land in the north.
'I'd like to have you scouts take out the sentries about a glass before dawn," Heald continued.
Just like that, Alucius reflected, take out the sentries. Was war ever that simple? Was anything?
In the aim lignt of the stable two glasses after midnight, Delar arrived at the stall as Alucius was checking the fastenings on his saddle bags. "Can you carry an extra cartridge belt?" Delar handed it to Alucius before the scout could answer.
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