“I have three options. None are that good. Seventh Company is already understrength. Majer Keheryl insists that Samist wants two squads of Second Company in Ludar at all times…”
“So we’re looking at two squads from Seventh Company and three from Fifth Company?”
“So long as First Company is tied up with Blackstear, that’s the best option.”
“What about tactics?”
“What else is there but using skylances and going in the way you did in Blackstear?”
“Aerial bombardment,” suggested Dainyl. “Drop as many large boulders as necessary on the Table building to seal it enough so that even if the Table remains working no one can get out of the Table chamber. That way, it remains on the grid, but we don’t have to guard it. Then we patrol the area from the air and flame down anyone who doesn’t belong.”
“That’s drastic.”
“It’s realistic,” he countered. “And it risks fewer Myrmidons and pteridons.”
A knock on the door broke the momentary silence.
“Marshal, sir,” said Doselt, “the High Alector sent his carriage and a request that you return to the Hall of Justice immediately.”
“I’ll be there in a moment.” Dainyl looked at Alcyna. “It’s getting late, but you need to remain here until I know what else has gone wrong and what we’ll have to do. Make sure Asyrk stays, too.” He rose from the chair.
“I had that feeling.” Alcyna stood. “The best of luck with the Highest.”
Dainyl nodded.
As he left Alcyna’s study and walked back down the corridor toward the entry foyer, he realized that he’d been in Elcien for over two glasses and that he was still wearing the cold-weather flying jacket and had the heavy gloves tucked in his belt.
He did not speak to the driver of the Highest’s coach on the return to the Hall of Justice, thinking instead about possible adaptations of the tactics he had ordered to bring down Hyalt. He also had to wonder why Samist had garrisoned Hyalt immediately upon the return of its Table to active status, yet the Duarches had done little to preclude a takeover at Soupat.
When Dainyl made his way from the coach back down to the lower level at the Hall of Justice, he found the door to Zelyert’s private study was open. Zelyert did not rise from behind the table, but gestured for him to enter.
“You requested my return?”
“You’ll translate back to Blackstear. So will Delari. Detail four Myrmidons to remain there. She’ll inactivate the Table and only activate it periodically to receive translations and messages on a schedule. It’s far from ideal, but it’s the best we can do.” Zelyert cleared his throat. “Now that you’ve had a chance to consider our other problem, what do you suggest for Soupat?”
“Take out the refugees and make sure that no more of them arrive.”
“Do you have a plan for that?”
“Yes, sir. I’ll translate back from Blackstear once I brief the Myrmidons there, and I’ll translate to Tempre early tomorrow morning and take the half of Seventh Company that’s there to Soupat. Submarshal Alcyna will follow with the three squads of First Company once they return here. If we need more support, we’ll pull two squads from Fifth Company in Dereka.”
“You aren’t tasking Second Company at all?”
“Majer Keheryl has informed us that Duarch Samist requires a minimum of two squads in Ludar at all times. If what we’ve planned is insufficient, we’ll request two additional squads from Ludar.”
“You handled Blackstear with one company. That’s four squads. You’re suggesting close to two companies—and before, you were reluctant to send any away from Elcien. What changed your mind?”
“The location, the weather, and the timing all favored us in Blackstear. None of those will favor us in Soupat, and there are already more armed refugees there. I was reserving Myrmidon companies for contingencies—such as these.”
“You don’t plan to inactivate the Table yourself?”
“It was touch and go last time, sir. The alectors in Blackstear didn’t know about inactivation. The ones in Soupat do. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have killed Nomyelt. It also suggests that they might well be able to reactivate the Table as well. I don’t see any point in taking that kind of risk for something that won’t be effective for more than a glass or so, if that.”
“That makes some sense.” Zelyert’s tone suggested Dainyl had other ulterior motives.
Dainyl did. He knew he would be close to exhaustion before the day was over and that his ability to raise full Talent shields was compromised, and probably would be for several days.
“Who will be here in Elcien—Myrmidons, that is?”
“The assistant operations director—that’s Captain Zernylta—and two squads of Seventh Company commanded by Undercaptain Asyrk.”
“I’m glad to see you do not have the Myrmidons totally abandoning Elcien.” Zelyert’s deep voice verged on the sardonic.
“We do the best we can, sir, but eight companies does not constitute a great force for an entire world, especially when three of them may be loyal to others. That is one reason why I’ve also had to rely on the Cadmians, but I doubt that they would be effective in Soupat.”
“You’d best find Delari and return to Blackstear.”
Dainyl inclined his head at the dismissal, then turned and departed. At times, Zelyert still remained more than a little enigmatic, but at the moment, Dainyl was scarcely in the mood for conversation. After he translated to Blackstear and then back to Elcien, he would still need to go back to Myrmidon headquarters and finish working out the details with Zernylta, Alcyna, and Asyrk.
Then he needed some sleep, and sleeping alone in the big bed at the house, he knew he would miss Lystrana.
44
Third Battalion had reached Wesrigg late on Septi. The hill town was little more than a hamlet, except for the chandlery, some shops, and two inns catering to travelers. Most of the shops on the short stretch of the high road that served as Wesrigg’s main street had been shuttered, a clear sign that the townspeople had been aware of trouble.
Mykel and the company officers shared rooms at the Red Ox and the Yellow Jug, with Mykel and Rhystan at the Ox. The men had slept in storerooms, stables, and haylofts, out of the elements, but with little comfort. Mykel hadn’t been able to do more than that, but he had made sure they all were fed and dry.
After an early breakfast, provided by an innkeeper fuming behind his polite demeanor, Mykel and the other officers gathered in the front parlor, such as it was, to receive the reports from the scouts.
Most had found little, but the Fourteenth Company scout, one of the last to return, reported, “There’s a company of Reillies on the ridge south of the road, just east of Wesrigg. Leastwise, it looks like a company. They’re mostly in the trees, but you can see a few.”
“Could you tell if there were other Reillies or Squawts around?” asked Mykel.
“Was still pretty dark in the trees, sir, but I don’t think so. More than a hundred yards away, and you could hear birds, and there weren’t any other tracks at the edge of the woods. Also, the cots between them and the town had their shutters open, and fires in their chimneys.”
“Sounds like a lure, some kind of trap,” opined Culeyt.
“We’ll act as if we don’t know they’re there,” said Mykel. “If they’re setting up snipers in the woods, we won’t see anyone, and we’ll withdraw if they start firing. If they’re partly formed up, then they’ll fire some and back off, trying to pull us into the woods again. I think we can turn things on them in that case. We’ll go to staggered firing lines and rake them. They’ll either charge or retreat. If they retreat, no one is to follow them. Let them go. We’ll get them another way.” His eyes moved from officer to officer. “Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir.” The response was murmured, but not resentful.
“Good. Go get your companies formed up. We’ll move out in half a glass.” Mykel started to follow the others, but the inn
keeper stepped up.
“Majer…there is the matter of settling…”
“We agreed on the golds,” Mykel stated. “I don’t carry them with me. No officer does. I’ll have them sent to whatever factor here in Wesrigg you name.”
“They’ll take a cut.”
“No. They get paid for the service. If they try to take more, send me a note, and I’ll take care of it.”
“Sir…you say that…”
“Innkeeper…with a battalion of Cadmians this close to Wesrigg, it won’t be a problem. If it is, then the factor is a Code-breaker, and you should know how the Duarches and the Cadmians feel about that.”
The innkeeper stepped back. “I’ll be taking your word on that, sir, and thank you.”
The man was less than totally pleased, but not angry. That would have to do.
Rhystan was waiting as Mykel stepped out of the ancient Red Ox and into the stable yard. “Do you think the Reillies will still be there?”
“I’d guess that they will. If they hadn’t wished to be seen, they wouldn’t have been.”
“But why are they being so obvious?”
“I wish I knew.” Under the long slanting rays of a sun that had barely cleared the trees on the low rolling hills to the east of Wesrigg, his eyes took in the slumped roof line of the stable, sagging like a sway-backed mare. “The only thing that makes sense is the losses that Fourth Battalion took. Somehow, they think that, if they can do the same to us, the Duarches will back off on strictly enforcing the Code.”
“So they can log every old tree for timber and burn the rest for charcoal?” Rhystan snorted. “I’ve seen what they’ve done on their steads. That’s why they have to move so often. They wear out the land.”
“They don’t like outsiders telling them what to do.” Mykel laughed. “None of us do.”
“There’s a difference…,” Rhystan began, then shook his head.
“There is. You know it, and so do I, but how do you explain it? Anyone who doesn’t understand before you start talking won’t agree when you’re done.”
“I suppose that’s another reason why I’m still a Cadmian,” Rhystan said.
Mykel hadn’t thought of it in those terms, but he realized he would have said the same thing a year before. Now…after discovering his Talent, having listened to ancient soarers—and Rachyla—he wasn’t so sure.
He eased those thoughts aside as he stepped into the stable to check his gear and saddle the roan.
Slightly more than a half glass passed before the battalion was formed up on the main street between the inns and the muster reported to Mykel, long enough that the sun, shining through clear air, had warmed the air so that his breath no longer created a white cloud when he spoke. “Third Battalion! Forward!”
Mykel rode with the vanguard and Undercaptain Fabrytal, only a quarter vingt back of the scouts, close enough that Mykel could order them back once the Reillies were spotted—if they were still there.
As Culeyt’s scout had reported, a score of Reillies waited on the low hill east of Wesrigg and south of the high road. They had ridden around the area enough that they had packed down or scraped away most of the snow.
“Scouts back!” he ordered. “Third Battalion, rifles ready.”
From their languid demeanor, to Mykel it was clear that the Reillies wanted to provoke the Cadmians into pursuing them into the woods, and that idea had probably been strengthened by seeing Mykel’s impetuousness of the previous day.
He eased the roan forward slightly, then took out his rifle, checking it once more.
The Reillies were still a good five hundred yards ahead, roughly sixty yards to the south of the shoulder of the road. They began to form into a rough line so that they approximated a formation by the time Mykel was some three hundred yards from them.
The first shot came from the insurgents when the Cadmians were little more than a hundred yards away.
“Third Battalion! Halt! Staggered firing lines! Stand by to fire. Fire at will!” As Mykel finished the command, he lifted his own rifle and fired once, willing the bullet home, targeting the Reillie whose mount was slightly forward of the others. The man sagged in the saddle, then fell. Mykel fired once more, then again. All in all, he emptied his magazine. Then he reloaded, and fired again.
The Reillies picked up the pace of their firing, but the years of training Mykel had insisted on began to show as more and more Reillies fell. Mykel finished the second magazine and quickly reloaded, but before he could fire, the Reillies rode back into the woods, at an angle to the southeast.
“Cease fire! Cease fire!”
Mykel could sense the line of snipers to the east along the south side of the high road.
“Third Battalion, to the rear, ride!”
Mykel brought the battalion to a halt a half vingt west, in front of the snow-covered fields and meadows of a smaller holder, an area where it would be hard for anyone to approach without being immediately obvious from a distance. “Captain Rhystan!”
While Rhystan rode to meet him, Mykel used his Talent to try to get a better sense of where the insurgents might be.
Rhystan reined up. “Yes, Majer?”
“I’m putting you in charge of the battalion, and I’d like your steadiest squad to accompany me. They have snipers in the woods. I’m going to use their tactics against them. We’ll ride back, but stop short of where they were. I’ll pick them off, starting with the closest, one at a time.”
“I believe, sir, that I mentioned my reservations about the commanding officer going off alone…”
“I’m not going that far. I don’t intend to go more than five or ten yards into the trees, if that. Your squad will be just inside the trees, just to the west of where I am. From what I can tell, there’s a larger body another vingt east, but I don’t intend to get too close to them. There’s no one deeper in the trees behind the first three or four snipers. The entire battalion will be on the road, a half vingt or so behind the squad supporting me.”
Rhystan waited.
“If we take out the snipers for the first vingt, then the battalion can move eastward, following the squad with me. If there’s any sign of a massed attack, I’ll ride back to the squad, and we’ll rejoin you and the battalion.”
“You’re trying to get them to attack?”
“I want them off-balance. If I can create the impression that we can beat them in the woods, they’ll be far less likely to try too many ambushes on Hamylt. Or…they’ll offer a pitched battle, and we won’t have to spend days or weeks dealing with them.”
“They lose too many, and they’ll back off, sir, and we’ll still do that.”
“That could be.” Mykel smiled coldly. “Then we’ll have to pick them off one at a time.”
“I have to point out, sir, that you’re running an unnecessary risk.”
“Your point is taken, Rhystan. I’ll try to be very careful, and I’ll stay close to your squad. Which squad?”
“Second squad, sir. They’re ready.”
“We might as well start, then.”
Rhystan raised his hand, and second squad eased out of the column and along the shoulder of the road, hard-packed gravel better than many of the back roads in Corus. The squad reined up short of the two officers.
“We’re going to ride to the edge of the trees,” Mykel said. “I’ll be barely into the trees, but I want you thirty yards back of me, right at the edge of the trees. You’re to keep an eye out for other Reillies while I’m looking for snipers.”
Mykel turned to Rhystan. “I’d like the column back about two hundred yards from second squad. That way, no one’s really in range of more than one sniper at a time, if that.”
Rhystan nodded.
“We might as well get started.” Mykel realized he’d repeated himself, but there was no help for that. He turned the roan southward, angling toward the trees, moving at a slow walk, his Talent-senses extended.
For the first hundred yards along the tree line,
he could sense nothing except Sixteenth Company’s second squad behind him. Then, perhaps forty yards ahead through the trees, was a Reillie. Feeling the man’s nervousness, Mykel halted the roan behind one of the wider-trunked pine trees. He spent several moments using his Talent to scan the area somewhat farther into the trees before he rode, slowly, forward and to his right.
The Reillie kept looking, turning his head from side to side, but not that far to the rear, as Mykel eased the roan slowly closer, raising his rifle.
Crack.
At the sound of the old fallen branch snapping under the hoof of the roan, the Reillie jerked around. He barely had half lifted his rifle when Mykel’s shot went through his forehead.
The sound of the single shot echoed through the trees, then faded.
Mykel continued onward, slowly, moving somewhat to the north and nearer the road so that Rhystan’s men could see him, at least intermittently.
The next Reillie sniper was closer to the road, directly ahead, and Mykel reined up, lifting his rifle, then leaning slightly to his left and firing.
After the single shot reverberated through the morning, a cascade of powdery snow slithered off a fir branch and down across Mykel’s neck. He couldn’t help wincing at the jolt from the cold down his back.
Slowly, he eased the roan forward.
Almost a glass passed, and he killed three more Reillie snipers. Ahead, he could sense a larger grouping of riders, still several hundred yards away to the southeast, and farther back into the heavier woods, if up a gentle slope. Mykel doubted that it would be wise to proceed much farther, and he was disappointed, and concerned, that there had been little reaction to his removal of the snipers. But then, did the Reillies really even know what he had done? All they had heard had been occasional shots.
Mykel eased the roan to a halt, right behind the trunk of a giant pine. He realized that an uneasy feeling had been building, and that there was an area ahead and to his right where he could sense nothing…nothing at all. Could it be the doing of one of the soarers or their predatory creatures?
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