“Where did these guys come from?” I asked, ducking low as another shell crashed behind us.
“Another ostium, maybe,” Tyrell answered with a shrug. “Up Jamestown way. Or possibly the Merchantry landed them by ship a while back. Kept them hidden until needed. With McClellan besieging Richmond, the Proprietor might’ve needed a force to influence events if things went contrary to his liking.”
I frowned, thinking of the stories I’d heard about the strange comings and goings at Washington’s Monument. “They do that? Plan that far ahead, just in case?”
“Course they do. That’s how they’ve stayed in power so long. Easier to manipulate things by plan than to react to the unforeseen.”
Another shell came in, sounding like a stagecoach full of gunpowder lobbed by an angry giant. That’ll probably be next, the way my luck goes. The things were getting closer to us. Somehow the ship received range corrections from our attackers. Maybe a raven, though I hadn’t noticed any nearby. Soon we’d be unable to stay in our rifle pits. Those cannonballs would be walked right on top of us. And the Federals from the beach would be on our rear any minute. I felt real glad that the Stone kept me from getting too girlie-hysterical from fear of what was about to happen.
I pointed to our right front. “Here they come again!”
In open formation this time, fighting as skirmishers to reduce their risk, the Old Guard returned. They moved from tree to tree, taking advantage of every bit of cover and minimizing the time each man was exposed to Reb fire. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice… Kneeling behind protection, some of the Gaulles shot at us, keeping up a steady rate of balls that kept our heads down. The remainder split into two groups. One bunch, carrying ladders, made for the man trap. They held them in front of themselves and dove across the trench, lying down and making a footbridge. Their fellows ran across their backs and in the blink of an eye our dry moat had been defeated. Dashing to our right, the other bunch tried to flank us as the Iberions had tried to do. Learning from their sad example, this force kept their muskets, bayonets fixed, well in front of them, waving them back and forth in case another net had been readied. They also moved in teams of two, so that their whole contingent wouldn’t be lost if we sprung a new trap. Clever. Guess that’s why Napoleon relied on ‘em so much.
But the Confederate Army had learned to be clever, too, given their shortage of every military necessity. I guessed the same was true of the Redeemers and the Equity. Though we were facing close to fifty of the world’s toughest troops, advancing on two fronts, Tyrell stayed cool. Now that the Iberions were out of the way for a while, the Rebs decided to surprise the closest wave of the Old Guard, the two dozen to our front. Popping up like groundhogs out of their holes, all the troopers threw mud balls at their foes. Mud balls with sputtering fuses. Thinking they were grenades, the Gaullic infantrymen backpedaled and dove to the swampy ground.
“That’ll just ruin their nice white suits,” Jasper cackled in my head.
Before Bonaparte’s men realized that we’d put no powder in the false grenades, which Tyrell called Quaker bombs, the Rebs were out of the trench and falling on them with their sabers. A nasty hand-to-hand fight happened not ten yards in front of me. Half the Old Guard was dispatched before it could rise. The rest, their odds now evened, got to their feet and defended themselves with the bayonet. For about a minute I watched some of the fastest, most ruthless bladework you’re ever likely to see. All the combatants were tough veterans of countless hard campaigns. No fancy-schmancy moves like me and Eddie would use in make-believe. Just simple but efficient cuts, thrusts, and parries. Not a motion wasted. No yelling, taunting, or evil laughing like you see in stage fights, either. No sounds but steel hitting steel, wood, or flesh. Once in a while somebody would yelp or groan as he got hit, but nothing more. In about ten breaths it ended. Two Rebs were down but not dead. Ten Gaulles had fallen, most of them never to rise again. The Redeemers played for keeps. I saw that, Stone or no Stone, I’d need lessons in this kind of sword work. Too many bad habits from showing off for Eddie.
Wiping off his bloody blade on the coat of an Old Guard lieutenant, Tyrell looked to the right flank. We’d taken apart a hunk of the fishing net and stretched taut lines on low stakes which we’d then covered with leaves. All that tanglefoot slowed the Gaulles down considerable. Just as effective had been the lines we’d strung at neck height just beyond that area. The obstructions, and the fear that worse surprises awaited, slowed down the twenty-odd enemies who were trying to get around behind us. But now they had cut through all that and were nearly on us. Even worse, they’d go right through Sha’ira’s hiding place to do it. Get outta there!
Just then the rat-bitten Yankee infantry came crashing through the trees behind us, muskets raised to fire. I saw plenty of blood in their eyes after the drubbing they’d taken on the beach. What conquistadors remained had returned to our left front. More artillery shells landed, close enough to make us jump back into the trench again as we heard them coming. The ground shook like the devil’s plaything. Mud and grass rained down on us. Both wounded troopers sat back-to-back, pistols and swords in their laps, ready for what might come next.
They only had a second or two to wait. When the tremors kept thumping through the earth even after the shells had landed, I knew something was up. So did everybody else. For a long minute Federals, Confederates, Gaulles, Iberions froze and looked around. Loud stomping sounds and weird foreign voices filtered through the trees back beyond where the Old Guard had first come from. It was the Merchantry’s second wave. Some sort of awful monsters were headed our way to finish us off.
Pine trees tipped over, pushed to the ground by terrible force. The Iberions yelped and got out of the way of the fell beasts that could do such a thing. All of Tyrell’s troopers stared wide-eyed to the north as more trees toppled. Crossing themselves, Napoleon’s men laughed as if they knew exactly what we were in for. A hideous sound like the last trumpet tore at my sensitive ears. Then the first of the fearsome things came into view. My mouth dropped and my eyebrows rose.
“Well, you sure don’t see that every day,” Jasper chuckled.
An elephant, in gold brocade and steel plate armor.
34/ In Langhorne’s Clutches
No miraculous escape this time. I’m either gonna be dead in a minute or wishin’ I was.
“You’re real negative, you know that?” Jasper said.
I could almost see him rolling his eyes.
I’d seen an elephant at the circus once, but I barely remembered it, being just four at the time. This one would stick in my mind the rest of my life, presuming that meant anything in the present situation. It seemed as big as our Maryland barn. Our barn hadn’t had a shed on top of it, though, with a driver or teamster or whatever they called the fellow who steered the thing. He wore white silky beaded gear and a gold turban. In one hand hung a long hooked stick that he used to change the elephant’s direction by tapping it on the shoulder. The man looked a bit like Sha’ira, but darker and bearded. His sneer aimed at us said that he wasn’t impressed by his opposition.
Since three more elephants with sharpened tusks followed, as well as a platoon of dusky warriors on foot, maybe his confidence was justified. The Eastern infantrymen carried, spears, bows, swords, and a few matchlock muskets. They kept well back or to the side of the trunked monsters, content to let them rout us. Then they’d pursue us and that’d be the end of this battle. All our other enemies seemed to feel the same way, just standing still and watching our imminent demise. Even the shelling had stopped.
“Mughal warriors from the Indus,” Tyrell said in a frustrated tone. “I’m starting to get a bit tired of the Merchantry’s tricks.”
“But don’t they know about the man trap?” I asked. “Those things can’t jump it to get at us.”
He pointed to some burly soldiers lugging heavy loads. “Won’t have to. Look.”
While we watched as well as we could, our heads being down most o
f the time to avoid arrows and musket shots, the enemy troops formed a line and began tossing heavy bags of what looked like grain into the trench. The elephants grabbed bags, too, real large ones, and used their trunks to drop them alongside the others. In no time they’d made two bridges capable of supporting their enormous bulk. With a roar beasts and men were across the trap and headed for us at top speed, the animals in the lead. The Iberions, Gaulles, and Yankees let out their own particular yells, too. The cozy way the Federals stood beside the Old Guard convinced me that they were Merchantry stooges in disguise.
“General Gracchus, do your worst!” Tyrell shouted, firing his pistol and dropping a bowman.
The rat commander saluted and called out, “Mawines, to the fwont! Just as we pwacticed it!” All the rodents climbed out of the rifle pit, scurrying through the mucky grass. Nobody paid them any attention. They were just rats, after all. At the same time Bob led his pelicans up and out in a beeline for the beach. Hey! Just where do you think you’re goin’? We need help here. That left just the Rebs and me in the trench. I could hear our foes to right and rear cackling with glee. I started to feel tiny and alone as the Mughal behemoths thundered toward us, trumpeting through their long trunks.
That fearsome sound changed to panicked whining. Gracchus and his Marines had climbed up the legs of each elephant. Some crawled into ears, some into eyes. A few went toward their giant backsides. I didn’t want to think what they were doing there. All I knew was that in two shakes of a lamb’s tail those walking barns started flailing trunks in a desperate bid to remove the biting rats. Some of the Legion troops gave their lives as the elephants scored hits, but most kept moving and were unhittable. They chose their targets well. Sticking to one particular side of each animal, they caused them to turn from us as they reached for their tormentors. All interest in continuing the attack had been lost. As the elephants spun in circles they trampled their own men into bloody paste. Mughal warriors shrieked and scampered out of the way as fast as they could. The lead monster turned so hard and fast that it speared its neighbor with a fearsome tusk. That elephant let out a bellow and reared up, toppling its driver, then stampeded to the rear, annihilating half a dozen infantry as it went. When the lead driver tried to regain control of his beast by thrashing it over and over again with his stick, an enraged trunk snatched him out of his shed and tossed him about thirty feet, bowling over another four or five men. Then that elephant, too, skedaddled back north.
To our left front, the remaining two animals were hopelessly tangled in each other’s harness. As they became more and more frantic in their attempt to escape, it became horrible dangerous to be near them. Mughal fighters dove, rolled, and leaped backward to stay out of the way of the maddened elephants. Adding to their troubles was the accurate Reb sniper fire that dropped them to the bloody ground. It all ended in a jiffy. All of them raced for the rear. As quick as it had started the charge had turned into a rout.
Our troubles weren’t over, though. Shouting “Vive la Empereur!” the Gaulles continued their careful flanking maneuver, making straight for Sha’ira’s chanting spot. The Yankees, the closer group, gave a deep roar and rushed at us, bayonets leveled, from our right rear. Tyrell’s band changed front to face them, but it sure seemed hopeless. They had us five-to-one and were so close that even if they took horrendous losses from the Redeemers’ guns enough would get through to finish us. I gripped my tin cup till the knuckles turned white. When the time came Morphageus would go into action and I’d sell my carcass dear.
It turned out I didn’t have to. We had more angels to aid us. Just at that instant Pitcairn’s Flying Squadron returned, banking to come in fast and low, straight at the Bluebellies. Their pouches hung heavy. Opening their long beaks, the lumbering birds dumped pounds and pounds of fine white beach sand straight into the eyes of our attackers. When the Federals broke ranks to curse and dig at their tormented eyeballs, the pelicans flew amongst them, snatching at musket barrels and faces with their webbed feet. After doing as much damage as they could, Bob and his friends vanished over the trees to let the second group of aeronauts complete the rout.
Ten winged horses fell upon the discomfited Yankees. Tyrell hadn’t exaggerated when he’d said that the Norn steeds could fight on their own. Sharp hooves, backed by powerful legs, broke bones and heads. Terrible teeth scalped the hapless men or grabbed their coats and hurled them into trees. Those beautiful wings turned out to be a lot less lovely when you were on the receiving end of a vicious sweep from them. They cut through the formation like Death’s scythe. In less time than it takes to tell it the Valkyrie horses downed all but a handful of the false Federals.
By that time the Old Guard proved too near to ignore. Tyrell shouted that they were almost out of cartridges and that we had to go. Fine by me. But where? Tossing the two wounded troopers onto their horses, the Rebs all mounted up as the Gaulles crashed through Sha’ira’s thicket. It went down like a house of cards in a gale. No! I made to rush to help her and Romulus, but a hand of iron scooped me up and tossed me onto a horse. As we rose into the air I searched the woods for any sign of my friends, but all I saw was Tyrell bounding onto Alcibiades near the skull ostium. Where are they?Sha’ira, Romulus, Ernie? The glorious horses put on their best speed, heading east into the wind and outrunning haphazard musket shots from the Gaullic infantry. We got over the patch of woods separating us from the sea. Below us the Old Guard started running through the trees in the same direction. Since we were far faster, I let out a cheer that we were going to escape. Ravens or no ravens, we could maybe force our way across the bay and find the Kiss.
Of course, I celebrated too soon. When the edge of the woods passed below us, a horrible loud racket came from below and to our left. One of the Norn horses squealed and plummeted from the sky to crash onto the beach with a sickening thud, his rider’s leg trapped beneath the dead animal. While I watched, all helpless, a pair of Napoleon’s finest bayoneted them both. But these weren’t the same soldiers we’d just fled from. Those troops hadn’t made it through the trees yet. This was a new group, lined up on the beach to our left. At least two full-strength regiments. New arrivals. Reinforcements. The Merchantry took no chances where little Verity was concerned.
The sergeant-major shouted an order and we wheeled to the south, away from the Gaulles, before they could shoot any more of us down. But that took us in range of the Yankee ship, which commenced to sending explosive shells our way, fused for air bursts. No easy way to cross the bay now. All we can do is run west, back to Richmond. I’ve failed.
That turned out to be impossible, too. More well-aimed musketry took down another horse and rider, as well as clipping off part of the sergeant-major’s ear. Now what? We had enemies in every direction, it seemed, and had lost most of our friends. A quick glance below showed me that more Yankees had come, from the south and west this time, and were hidden in the trees. Thousands of them. Thousands! I thought the Merchantry wanted to keep this thing quiet?
We dove down like falling arrows. My stomach stayed up in the sky someplace. Jasper just screeched, “Wheee!” in my head. A lot of good that’s doin’ us. Before we could take any more losses from the new Federal fire we crashed through the treetops, landing about a hundred yards behind the Ostium. All we’d done was make a big circle, lose two of us, and end up pretty much where we’d started. Every bad guy in the world had us surrounded. Taking to the air again would just get us plucked down like ducks in hunting season. Well, this is really it. No miraculous escape this time. Might as well get used to the idea. No more Ma, no more Eddie, no more anythin’ else. I’m either gonna be dead in a minute or wishin’ I was.
“You’re real negative, you know that?” Jasper said. I could almost see him rolling his eyes.
“Think so?” I snapped. “Stick around a while. You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”
“Oh, I see plenty.”
“Yeah? Like what?”
“Like a whiny snot-nosed brat who just throws
up her hands at the first sign of trouble.”
“First sign? Where’ve you been the past week?”
“Right here. Not like I can go for a stroll along the boulevards.”
I snorted. “Well, if you’re so full of optimism, I suggest you tell me how we can get out of this mess.”
“Oh, I have the utmost confidence in you. You just need to use those magicked senses of yours and spot the silver linin’ in this ugly black cloud.”
If I hadn’t known that he’d never let it happen I’d have hurled that tin cup to China. “Silver linin’? Are you crazy?”
“Shut up and listen!”
I did. My ears heard several things. Or several nothings. No feet trudged through the undergrowth in our direction. No Yankee, Gaullic, Iberion voices shouted orders to attack. No artillery shells sought us out.
“Huh!” I said aloud. The Reb troopers, crouched in a defensive circle beside their horses, sabers drawn, looked at me with questioning eyes.
Jasper yapped away again in that nagging tone he had sometimes. “And what else do you hear? Apart from nothin’?”
I strained my hearing as far as I could. At first I just made out bird noises and such, but when I filtered out all of the natural noises, I made out what he wanted me to hear.
Brimstone and Lily (Legacy Stone Adventures) Page 35
