Treachery's Tools (69 page)

“Not exactly. We managed to reach the rebel encampment just west of Caluse. We likely destroyed most of their powder and shells. The explosion of powder and shells killed a number of troopers and also killed at least some of the senior officers…”

“Do you have any idea of the casualties?” pressed Maurek.

“We weren't in any condition to stay around and count. Neither Arion nor I had shields enough to matter left after the blast. There were several hundred officers and troopers in the area, but the wagons were sandbagged, and that likely limited the effect of the blast near the ground. There were still some shells exploding when we escaped the encampment and began the ride back here.”

“You couldn't tell—”

“You wouldn't have been able to tell, either,” said Alastar. “The explosions from the powder cases or magazines kept going off. Men were yelling. Horses were screaming. Officers were shouting orders, and there was smoke everywhere. Some flames, too.”

“Before all this began, what did you see at the encampment?” asked Wilkorn.

“There were rebel troopers riding everywhere. The cannon were neatly drawn up with the wagons and limbers on the west side of the encampment…” Alastar went on to describe what he had seen of the encampment, including the mansion that had appeared to serve as a headquarters. “Since it didn't seem as though we'd have much time before we were discovered, or before one of the rebel troopers who bumped into us and got inside the blurring concealments reported something to senior officers, as soon as we located the cannon and powder, we immediately torched everything we could and then made our escape.”

“Did anyone chase you?”

“No one besides those few troopers even noticed us.”

Almost two quints passed before Wilkorn and Maurek finished with their questions and Alastar and Cyran walked back toward the imagers' area.

From somewhere drifted a fragment of song, sung loudly and slightly off-key, not that Alastar was one to judge, given that he seldom could remain on tune, even with the hymns to the Nameless that he'd sung since he'd been a boy in Westisle.

… a holder boyo came to town

a-riding in his carriage,

slapped a silver on a cheated plaque

and called it noble marriage …

Absently, Alastar wondered from which gaming house that song had originally come.

“They didn't mention any plans for tomorrow,” observed Cyran. “Or what they want from us.”

“That's because they didn't expect us to be that successful. I'm certain that they'll want something by tomorrow morning … or even later this evening.”
And whatever it might be will likely be even more dangerous.
But Alastar didn't voice that thought. All he really wanted was something to eat and some time to rest … and sleep.

 

45

Although Alastar slept soundly, more like the sleep of the dead, when he woke on Vendrei morning, it felt as though every muscle and bone in his body ached. More worrying was the fact that he could only raise the weakest of shields.

He thought the breakfast of dried ham and milk gravy over biscuits, with hot too-strong tea, helped, but not enough to make that much difference with his shields. After he finished eating, standing by the teamsters' wagon, he turned to Arion, who had eaten earlier but who was still sipping tea from his tin cup. “How are you feeling this morning?”

“A touch sore, sir. Otherwise, I'm all right.”

“What about your shields?”

“I'm not quite at full strength, but almost.”

“That's good. With some moderate fortune, you won't need them today.” Alastar managed a cheerful smile, thankful that Arion seemed not much worse for the wear.

As he walked away, he caught sight of Chervyt and Julyan, standing together, seemingly bantering with Dylert and Taurek.
Were you ever that unconcerned?
Then again, Chervyt probably wasn't as unconcerned as he appeared, not after his loss in attacks on Imagisle thirteen years earlier.

Alastar shook his head, worried about how long it might take him to recover … and what Wilkorn and Maurek had in mind for the imagers.

Much as he didn't really feel up to it, he walked south to the command tent and made his way inside. Wilkorn turned from where he had been talking to Maurek. “Yes, Maitre?”

“What are the rebels doing right now?”

“They're still cleaning up the mess you made,” said Wilkorn.

“That's not all,” added Maurek. “There's only about a regiment left in Caluse, and the scouts can't find a trace of troopers anywhere else. There are tents in the west encampment, but almost no one is there.”

“Half of the encampment wasn't there.…” Alastar stopped. There had been no trace of imagers either. “Are all three—or two and a half—regiments still in Caluse? Have your scouts actually seen the troopers?”

Wilkorn frowned.

“The scouts only confirmed a regiment or so,” said Maurek.

“I wondered about the lack of troopers in the eastern rows of tents, yesterday, and there was no sign of any imagers. Now, if your scouts are seeing troopers—”

“You think the imagers are covering the movement of a large group of troopers?”

“I wouldn't be surprised if the troopers left in Caluse are the High Holder volunteers, and that Aestyn's best troopers are moving north somewhere to the west of us at this moment. Can they get all the way to L'Excelsis without using the river road?”

“Not quickly.” Maurek pointed to the map on the table. “They'd have to circle Lake Shaelyt to the west, but the ground to the north and west of the lake is mostly marshes, unless they wanted to go almost twenty milles west.”

“So they have to go through that hamlet on the northwest side of Lake Shaelyt and back to the river road to get to L'Excelsis faster than you would?” asked Alastar.

“Or they could take the road between the smaller lake just north of us and Lake Shaelyt, replied Maurek, “but that would be awfully close to us.”

“That was likely their original plan,” suggested Alastar, “before they lost all that power and much of their ammunition.”

“Original plan?” questioned Maurek.

“Either way, I think we need to withdraw at least to the highest point on the road north of Lake Shaelyt,” declared Wilkorn.

“I don't like giving up this position. We're still outnumbered,” said Maurek.

“That's not your biggest problem,” said Alastar quietly, angry at himself that he hadn't seen what all the empty tents had really meant. “If they get around us, they'll take the Chateau D'Rex, and remove Lorien. They'll make Ryentar rex, and then we'll have to take them on while they hold the chateau—which is almost impregnable,” declared Alastar. “Most people don't like Lorien that well, and the Codex Legis gives the rex the power to change the laws. If Ryentar immediately restores the ancient powers of the High Holders…”

Maurek looked stunned.

“Frig…” muttered Wilkorn. “We're moving out now! I'll have two companies moving in a quint. Can your imagers be ready in the van?”

“We'll be ready.”

“Maurek, get scouts out to the west.”

“Yes, sir.”

In less than a quint Alastar found himself riding north along the river road with Wilkorn, immediately in front of the imagers and directly behind a squad from Weidyn's Fifth Company, acting as vanguard. The remainder of Fifth Company rode behind the imagers, followed by Major Luerryn and Eighth Company.

“Aestyn likely planned this from the start—tricky bastard,” Wilkorn was as much muttering as talking. “Set us up here. Then bring up the cannon and pound at us, while the bulk of his force swings behind us. If we had to withdraw after the cannon were in place, we would have been under attack on two fronts. If we'd held, then he would have gotten between us and L'Excelsis, and we've have had to attack a superior force, and he would have been free to withdraw to L'Excelsis and do exactly what you suggested. If we don't cut off that battalion, he still could.” After a moment, the marshal added, “Good work with the cannon. Without that, we'd have been in even more trouble.”

“I wish I'd realized about the empty tents earlier,” Alastar admitted.

“My scouts didn't pick up on it, and you were in the middle of explosions.”

Alastar couldn't help but wonder what else he'd failed to notice … and should have.

Almost two glasses passed, and by that time, Alastar and the imagers were well north of their former encampment and roughly a mille south and two milles east of the northern end of Lake Shaelyt. They were also a great deal hotter, and the air was still, although Alastar could see a line of dark clouds to the northeast that seemed to be creeping toward them. At that moment, he also saw a single trooper, most likely a scout, riding swiftly south on the river road toward them. The scout rode immediately to Wilkorn, who did not slow his mount, but motioned the scout to ride beside him.

“What can you report?” asked the marshal.

“There's more than a battalion of mounted infantry three milles west of the hamlet, sir. They're moving at a fast walk. There's a lot of dust on the road farther behind the battalion, all the way into the forest on that road that cuts through it. The others are trying to find out more, but lead scout Vactyr sent me to tell you about the battalion.”

“Good. Now head back and post yourself where you can watch the hamlet. Let me know as soon as you can whether that battalion stops at the hamlet or keeps moving. We'll be on the high ground northeast of the hamlet on the river road.”

“Yes, sir.” The scout inclined his head, then turned his mount and headed north along the road.”

Wilkorn turned to Alastar. “We're between two and three milles from where we need to be to stop them, and they're closer to six.” He shook his head. “Good thing we headed out when we did. Need to send a messenger back to Maurek to tell him to push.”

While Wilkorn summoned a messenger and briefed him, Alastar tried to make out the terrain immediately ahead. According to the maps, most of the area north of the flat land surrounding the hamlet was swampy and marshlike, and the downpours over the previous month doubtless had only made the marshes even less passible. Even so there was between a quint and two quints of higher solid ground on the west side of the river road, which stretched for several milles before widening out into the higher fields south of L'Excelsis.

Meaning that you have to get into position just north of the road from the hamlet and hold that ground to keep the rebels from getting through.

“Are your imagers ready to do what they can if that battalion tries to break through?” asked Wilkorn, his voice interrupting Alastar's study.

“All but one or two.” Alastar wasn't about to admit that he was one of those not at full strength.

“We may need every one of you.”

Alastar nodded.

Less than a glass passed before a messenger galloped up along the shoulder of the road shouting, “Message for the marshal! Message for the marshal!”

Whatever it is,
thought Alastar,
it's not good news.

Wilkorn gestured. “Here! Over here!”

The messenger pulled in beside the commander.

“What is it?”

“Commander Maurek is under attack by at least a battalion. He's sent the remainder of Major Luerryn's battalion to join you at a faster pace. He will close with you as soon as he can.”

Wilkorn looked like he wanted to swear, but he only nodded. “Thank you. Tell the commander we will be holding the road north of Lake Shaelyt in order to keep the lead elements of the rebel forces from proceeding to L'Excelsis.”

“Yes, sir.”

Once the messenger was headed back south, Wilkorn snorted. “It might have been better if we'd just invested that hamlet over there.”

“It would have been harder to do the damage we did from here,” Alastar pointed out.

“True enough, but there's a price for everything.” Under his breath, with words Alastar could barely hear, the marshal added, “Especially overlooking the obvious. Too frigging old for this.”

At the risk of intruding on what might have been meant as private musings, Alastar said quietly, “If two gray-haired men hadn't said a few things, Rex Lorien would likely be facing certain removal.”

“And if a gray-haired marshal hadn't let himself be persuaded, we'd be in good position and not racing to be outflanked.” Wilkorn shook his head, then said, “Doesn't matter. Regrets are a waste of time and breath.”

Within another quint, a trooper rode forward to Wilkorn. “From Major Luerryn, sir. Eighth Company has rearguard, sir.”

“Convey my thanks to the major.”

“Yes, sir.”

As Alastar, Wilkorn, and the imagers reached a point where the small hamlet lay due west and the point where the side road joined the river road was less than two quints of a mille ahead, Alastar looked at the narrow side road more intently. There was something about the road. The mille and two quints or so that were closest to the road appeared like any other dirt road. So did the next quint mille, but there was something about the grass and bushes on each side, as if a light breeze were blowing. His eyes traveled farther west, where he could see the first ranks of the mounted infantry—no more than two companies—riding past the hamlet at a steady pace, still almost three milles from the river road.

What happened to the rest of the mounted infantry?
He studied the narrow road again.
Frig! They're under a concealment and moving at fast trot, most likely.

“Marshal … the first two or three companies of the rebels' mounted infantry is halfway to the river road. They're riding under a concealment. Send the vanguard and imagers. We can at least slow them.”