by RW Krpoun
The Badger took two long pulls from the flask, cut away the rest of his trouser leg so its flopping wouldn't impair his movements, and rejoined the fighting, a bit wobbly, but Healed and still game.
With Bridget and Doctor Kuhler, the Company’s non-combatant Healer, in the center of their small shield-circle the Badger wounded were being treated and returned to the fray quickly, preventing their formation from falling apart from causalities as happened to several groups from the First Cohort; nevertheless, the mercenaries saw heavy fighting on their retreat off the hill. Halfway down the slope the Direbreed pulled back, ordered by their commanders to reform as Eyade and wolf-riders poured off the crest to exploit the breach.
The Hand’s mounted troops quickly withdrew, however, as the Lasharian division charged in a line abreast into their ranks, Grand Marshal Laffery having finally been informed of the fate of his commander and taken charge of the battle.
The Lasharians halted the Hand’s exploitation and allowed the hill’s defenders time to withdraw to safety, but they were too few to retake the hill, much less hold it against infantry; half-way up the slope the division commander sounded the withdrawal and the armored horsemen fell back, escorting a score of First Cohort survivors who had been playing dead on the corpse-littered slopes after having been separated from larger groups.
Grand Marshal Laffery, the new commander of the Heartland Army, sat on his horse, cursing bitterly. “Has Lord General von der Strieb been notified that he is now the deputy commander?’ He asked a staff officer.
“Yes, sir, a courier just brought his acknowledgement.”
The Grand Marshal eyed the masses of Direbreed forming on the hill’s crest and punched the tall front horn of his saddle in impotent fury. The two divisions of cavalry from the left wing were coming up, and the Lasharian horse had nearly reformed, as were the Ilthanians who had been thrown into confusion by their comrades’ treachery, but the Sagenhoftian cohorts would need a full reorganization before they could be recommitted, and without an infantry reserve (something Lord General von der Strieb had argued long and hotly for, only to have Grand Marshal Pecheux over-rule him) the hill could not be held, even if the cavalry could retake it, which was far from certain. With the Hand in control of the hill, his line was breached, and the outcome certain.
“Messenger to all commands: ‘withdraw in combat order to the baggage train’,” the commander glared at the hill. “We’ll withdraw to better terrain and teach these bastards that today was merely a fluke.”
Hebreth Descente, Markan-Hern of the Seventh Degree and Grand Commander of Bohca Tatbik, sat on his horse and watched as the Heartland Army withdrew in good order to its wagon train, the divisions of medium and heavy cavalry charging in turn to take the pressure off the infantry. Already Gatherers, the lowest rank within the Harbinger cult, were recovering the Breedstones of the fallen Direbreed while the more skilled adepts were preparing for a Seeding.
It was far from the victory he had hoped for: the Heartland Army had been forced from the field, but its strength was unbroken which meant the next battle would find them in much the same position as they had been in at dawn today. If Bohca Tatbik was to take Sagenhoft as the Council of Seven had commanded, then the Heartland Army must first be shattered, and Apartia must be taken or neutralized. Even with the Gates supplying his army he could not last long with a fortified city in his rear.
The olive-skinned easterner watched the enemy withdraw and nodded silently to himself. He had their measure now.
Grand Marshal Laffery ordered an immediate withdrawal to the village of Galati, forty-odd miles to the west along the road to Apartia, where good defensive terrain would made a second stand possible. Despite orders for speed and constant urgings from the army’s commander, it was not until noon on the thirty-second of Natterteil that the army reached its destination, hampered as it was by the necessity of guarding the over-large and slow-moving wagon train, only to discover that the key heights overlooking the town were already in the hands of five Eyade Ket. Although the Eyade as a rule made poor footmen, Laffery declined to launch charges up the heights into the fire of over three thousand skilled archers, especially as the Bohca Tatbik was pressing hard upon his heels. Bypassing the town, the Army of the Heartland retreated still further, urged on by the setback at Galati and their vehement commander.
By the evening of the third of Gleichteil (the sixth month of the Imperial Calendar) the bulk of the Heartland Army was camped within sight of the towers of the capitol of the Kingdom of Ilthan, with the Hand Army not far behind.
Grand Marshal Laffery issued his orders in no uncertain terms: all commands save the Imperial Eastern Field Force were ordered to reduce their wagon loads by one-third, and their number of wagons by the same amount; camp-followers were to be reduced by half. He also ordered that all units were to prepare themselves for battle, as he intended to meet, and defeat, the Bohca Tatbik here in the shadow of Apartia.
Spurred on by Laffery, who, besides being the commander of the Heartland Army was also their own commander, the Lasharian forces were stripped down to a light baggage train and only the most essential non-combatants, while the Sagenhoftian forces followed suit, still smarting from their ejection from Pecheux’s Hill, as the hill was now called. The Duke went one step further and purchased as many panje style carts as were available in Apartia to replace most of his wagons, which were either sold in Apartia or sent home.
The Arturians and Kordians made token concessions to the Grand Marshal’s orders; the Ilthanian force merely sent its baggage train into the capitol, thus appearing to comply without sacrificing any comforts. The Imperial Field Force had been at its best, transport-wise, before the campaign began and thus needed no improvements, although Lord General von der Strieb ordered a team of veteran quartermasters to examine every cart and wagon in the Force’s trains to ensure that they were in compliance, an action made more as a gesture of support for the new Army commander than for any practical need.
Orders were issued, units were inspected, and the army waited as the Hand force closed.
Chapter Nine
“What do you think, the green or the blue?” Elonia asked, holding up a dress in either hand. “They both fit nicely, but I’m not sure which is the better color for me.”
“Blue,” suggested Starr, who was sitting on the floor of the shop trying on a pair of shoes. “These’re nice, but they’re too tight.”
“I think green, for your eyes,” Duna offered from the depths of a dress-rack, emerging a moment later clad in a slip. “What about this one?” She held a deep blue frock in front of her.
“The color’s good for you, but the neckline...well, there isn’t a neckline,” Starr pointed out. “You wouldn’t remain a maiden long wearing a dress like that.”
“Maybe that’s the idea,” the dark Badger shot back, and giggled. “Anyway, I was thinking of wearing it with a ruffled silk blouse and a black velvet vest I saw in the last shop, with the vest cut down to match the dress’s front.”
“That would work,” the Seeress frowned at the two dresses. “You’re right about the green, but I like the way the blue sets off my hair.”
Durek had decided that every female in the Company should purchase (with Company funds) a dress and associated items of clothing ‘against future need’. He had not elaborated on what future need he anticipated, but the common guess was that he wanted the capability of disguising female Badgers as non-combatants. It had required little persuasion to send the nine Badger females into Apartia in trios to spend Company silver on dresses and accouterments.
“Which does Maxmillian like better, your eyes or your hair?” Starr tried to flex her toes in the shoes. “Maybe these would stretch.”
“His interests lie further south,” Elonia murmured with a wry smile. “And the ease of which a dress unbuttons would likely be his primary concern, rather than color or cut. Still, the blue looks as if it would travel better.”
Starr hobbled ab
out, scowling at the fit. “They pinch, but they’re so pretty.”
“Like a lot of men,” Duna laughed. “Henri, for one. He patted my rear again the other day during drill.”
“There’s one you wouldn’t need a pretty dress to attract,” Elonia shook her head. “All he requires is that you’re breathing and not actively resisting.”
“Henri doesn't stand a chance as long as Arian’s around,” Starr snickered, prying one of the pumps off her feet.
“Shut your mouth!” Duna snapped as blood raced into her face and neck, stepping towards the giggling Lanthrell.
Elonia stopped the angry Badger with a hand on her shoulder. “Brawling’s a week’s pay,” she reminded the flushed girl. “It’s not worth it. Starr, be quiet, it’s not as if you haven't chased after someone.”
“Oooh, a lie,” Starr waved a shoe at the Seeress. “I never.”
“I know you haven’t, but it’s only because Halabarian never asked for it.” The Seeress cocked an eyebrow at the little Corporal. “You should be careful about throwing stones, little one.”
“We are just friends,” Starr wrenched the other shoe off and stood, red-faced. “At least I’ve never been caught outside the camp when I’m supposed to be inside.”
“Not until Halabarian snaps his fingers, that is,” Elonia winked. “Then we’ll see how strong the bonds of oath and duty are.”
“Humph,” Starr thrust her nose into the air and stomped into the back of the store.
The Seeress chuckled softly and hung the green dress back on the rack, glancing over at Duna, who was quietly trying on a ruffled blouse. “So, do you have it bad?”
The girl shrugged. “Not so bad Janna’s noticed.”
“A good thing-she’s not one to cross. Has he noticed?”
“Not at all.” The scout carefully folded the dress and blouse into a stout travel-box. “I’ll get over it, I suppose.”
“You generally do.” Elonia tried to think of some comforting words or good advice, but couldn’t produce any. She herself was a novice to the ways of the heart as the old Elonia, the Avenger, had never bothered with such trifles. The two packed their choices in companionable silence and moved to the front of the shop to pay for their purchases, where they were joined by a sullen Starr.
The little Badger cheered up as they finished their shopping and stopped for a glass of wine and a snack, making their way out the city gates as dusk was coming on.
“Awfully long hike just to get back to camp,” Elonia grumbled as the trio walked through the growing darkness. “You would think they could have had a gate on the east side of the city open, instead of just two on the south.”
“They’re worried about a sudden sally, I guess,” Duna observed, waving a hand towards the mass of campfires that marked the Hand’s positions two miles to the north. “Although with the Heartland Army close to hand it would seem unlikely.”
“How unlikely was an entire demi-squadron of Ilthanian horse switching sides in the middle of a battle?” Starr pointed out from where she was skipping along on top of the low stone wall that bordered their lane, her travel-box balanced on her head. “When you deal with the minions of the Dark One, treachery is everywhere.”
“Lately it’s been dangling at the end of a noose,” Duna nodded. After the surprise stroke at Pecheux’s Hill the cult-hunters and Watchers were given free rein through the army and its hangers-on, resulting in more than thirty executions of Hand spies or cultists from other dark sects. “They’ve pretty well dealt with the problem, I should think.”
“The danger of whole units changing sides, yes,” Elonia agreed. “But then the Hand would only use that trick once. And while the traitors in the army may have been thinned out, you can count that there are Hand followers in every city between Apartia and Sagenhoft, with an extra dose in the latter.”
“There’s none in the Badgers,” Starr announced. “That we can rely upon; that, and the fact that we’ll make mincemeat out of any Void-worshipping scum we encounter.” She skipped nimbly over a gate-post and ran lightly over the gate’s top bar.
“You sound more like Kroh every day,” Duna teased her. “She’ll be saying ‘I hates cultists, killed dozens, I have’, next, won’t she, Elonia?”
“And smoking a cigar,” the Seeress smiled at the mental image.
“I have killed more than a few cultists,” Starr pointed out, not displeased at the comparison. “Kroh is a good friend and a fine Badger...hello, that’s odd.”
“What is?” Elonia looked off towards the fields in the direction that Starr was staring, but saw nothing but a shadowy wood lot on the far side of a well-cropped pasture.
“A light, like a shuttered lantern with the smallest port open, and then it closed. I think it must have been open for a while, but I only just saw it because of the positioning of the trees,” the short Lanthrell said, all humor gone from her voice, walking normally along the mortared stones. “The position of the trees and the fact that I’m three feet taller than I usually am.”
“Let’s keep moving; no doubt we’re being watched if there’s anything to the light,” Elonia cautioned, keeping her voice low.
“Oh, you!” Duna laughed loudly and slapped the Seeress on the shoulder as the three resumed their pace. “What do you think it is?” She asked in a quiet tone.
“I have no idea, but once we’re a bit further down the road, where we’ll be out of sight of that lot, I’ll use my Art and see what I can See.”
The three resumed a carefree chatter for the benefit of whomever might be off in the trees until the curve of the country lane took them out of sight and earshot. “This will take a bit,” Elonia said, seating herself on the wall and drawing an engraved rod of blue crystal from one of the many pouches on her belt.
Her two companions moved a short distance away and stood watch while they waited; after several minutes Elonia stowed the rod and joined them. “I’m not sure, I’m not a Watcher who sees the present, you know, but a rather poor Seer, dealing with the past and future, but I see something bad back there in those trees.”
“Hand agents?” Starr toyed with Snow Leopard’s hilt.
“Perhaps, low-level ones if they are. Or maybe other Void-followers engaged in some dark business, not rites of course, or I would never have gotten a feel for them.”
“We could hide our packages and slip up on them,” Duna suggested, just as eager as Starr. “We left armor and bows back at camp, but you’ve your full gear, and Starr and I have our swords and daggers.”
“It’s a good two miles to camp,” Starr exaggerated. “Too far to go for help; in any case, we’re all veterans, and expert in the woods.”
Elonia gave the matter some thought. She and Starr had been made Corporals the same day, although the little Lanthrell was senior to her in Company service, and by position as well: Starr commanded the scouts, while the Seeress served as an assistant to a platoon leader. Nonetheless, the other two seemed inclined to follow her lead, at least for the moment. “We’ll have a look, but no fighting until we have an idea what is going on.”
“You said they were up to no good,” Starr objected. “We ought to go in and clean ‘em out.”
“ ‘Wave axe, pound on table, make outrageous boast’ ” Duna said in a stage whisper, drawing a short laugh from the Seeress.
“Yes, that’s Kroh talking, but you’re not a heavily armored Waybrother with the strength of an ox and the fighting skill of any two Badgers,” she pointed out. “You’re a short Threll in a cotton shirt who left her buckler in camp. We three are good scouts, but we’re far from the best fighters, and there could be quite a few in there; the wood lot is at least ten acres, perhaps more. We’ll take a look, and then give our next move careful thought.”
“I suppose,” Starr agreed unhappily.
Duna punched the Corporal on the shoulder. “You hang around the heavies too much, Starr; it gets you to thinking like them. We’re sniping and running types, you and I.”
> “Lanthrell tactics, as a matter of fact,” Elonia pointed out as the three hid their travel-boxes in a handy bush. “You mother would be horrified to see her only child thinking like a Dwarf.”
“My mother was horrified to see me leave the Lana, the Forest,” Starr shrugged. “It would be hard for her to get much more horrified than that.” She thought a moment. “Unless she met Kroh.”
The three slipped across a field planted with turnips and entered the wood lot, moving through the trees in the deepening twilight like a trio of shadows; Duna was extremely pleased to see that her woodcraft was comparable with Elonia’s, although it was still only a pale emulation of Starr’s expertise.
They found a small camp hidden deep in the wood lot consisting of two carts, two picketed horses and a few people; only the lack of underbrush within the wood lot had allowed a glimmer of light to have escaped. The camp was established alongside a deep creek bed that wandered through the wood lot, the passage of the water helping mask any noise made by the occupants.
The three Badgers crept back twenty yards and huddled together for a whispered conference. “There doesn't seem to be too many, five or six or so,” Starr pointed out.
“Five or six is too many if they’re well-armed,” Elonia shook her head. “Besides, finding out what are they doing is the reason why we’re here.”
“They seem like they’re waiting for someone,” Duna said. “They’re just sitting around, not talking much.”
“Let’s at least get in close and take a look at them,” Starr urged. “We don’t really know anything at this point.”
“Why don’t we wait a bit and see who they’re waiting for?” Duna suggested. “It’ll only get darker, and if someone comes up we can use the noise they make to get in close.”
