The objective for the day was a relatively large village under an open sky for once (they were all looking forward to that), about eleven miles ahead. The NUS Army, less well-supplied and facing stiffer resistance had nevertheless pushed hard and Shinya intended to await it there. A battalion of dragoons and two batteries of guns had occupied the village the day before, in case the enemy tried to burn it and slaughter the inhabitants. By all accounts, the people were grateful. They’d been getting refugees as well, and knew what had been in store for them at the hands of their own troops.
“Idiots,” Shinya had remarked at the previous evening’s officer’s call, outlining his intentions as well as warning them to be extra vigilant. “A scorched-earth strategy can be effective at denying forage to an enemy, but murdering all the people as well only weakens your support.”
“The goddaamn Doms don’t care,” Blas had replied. “’Least Don Hernaan an’ his sort don’t. Anybody sees us an’ lives, learns they don’t haave to put up with the crazy shit the Blood Priests dish out—so they caan’t let ’em live. The only ‘support’ thaat maatters to them is in the places they caan defend: the cities.”
Here near the very front of the column, vigilance was always necessary, not only for the enemy, but the beasts. Predators weren’t the only dangerous animals. They’d been seeing more and more creatures similar to armabueys, only these were flatter, with hard, spiked shells. They also had powerful spiked tails that they wielded with surprising agility considering their awkward appearance. They were generally seen near deadfall, rooting under or destroying rotten trees for the insects infesting them and they reacted aggressively to being disturbed. Blas figured their eyes weren’t very good and if you got close enough for them to notice, you were too damn close.
Blas suddenly cocked her head to the side, listening. Despite the currently semidry nature of the track and soft covering of leafy needles lying inches deep upon it, the army made a lot of noise. Men and ’Cats chattered, canteens and other accoutrements bumped and clattered, and hundreds of nearby feet made a low rumble no matter how mushy the ground. There was also the ever-present pop and creak of the giant trees, but Blas thought she heard another kind of popping, muffled by distance and the forest, but wholly familiar to her. “Somebody’s shootin’ at somebody,” she declared, nodding to the northeast. “Thaat way, pretty faar.” Audrey didn’t hear it but took Blas’s word.
“Riders coming in,” Lieutenant Anaar observed, flicking his ears forward.
“I see ’em,” Blas replied. “An’ put your daamn helmet on.” Falling limbs were always a hazard too. Anaar reluctantly complied. There was little or no breeze and helmets got hot.
A pair of Impie dragoons pulled their horses to a halt and saluted Blas and Audrey while four more dashed down the column, showering Marines with pointy brown leaves and clods of damp earth.
“What’s happening?” Sister Audrey asked.
“There’s Doms ahead, barely half a mile. “They dragged up some dead trees an’ hunkered down behind ’em, across the road.”
“How many?” Captain Ixtli demanded.
“Three hundred, maybe more. Must’ve moved in last night. They can’t stop us, but seem set on slowin’ us.”
Blas was still staring northeast. “I wonder why?” She pointed where she was looking. “Any idea whaat’s haappening thaat way?”
The dragoon trooper looked, then shook his head. “Nothin’ I know of, Colonel. Maybe some o’ our other scouts tangled with more Doms.”
“This is so frustrating!” Audrey exclaimed. “I became spoiled by our airpower, I’m afraid, always knowing at least vaguely what the enemy was doing. Now, even when our planes do venture overhead, they see almost nothing. I feel too much like I did back in the old S-19, creeping about beneath the sea. The enemy had difficulty finding us, but we couldn’t see them either.”
“I bet it’s them Nussies,” First Sergeant Spook declared, stepping out of the column while it moved past them, “an’ them Doms that’ve been snaappin’ at ’em are tryin’ to slow ’em up. The ones across our front’re just there to keep our attention.”
“Thaat’s not possible, is it?” Lieutenant Anaar asked, blinking concern. “Laast we heard, the Nussies were still fifty miles north.”
“And our planes caan’t see ’em any better thaan us,” Blas countered. She was sure the volume of distant fire was picking up. “Word is, they ain’t gettin’ supplied as well as us. They caan’t turn baack, they’d never make it, so all they caan do is push haarder to meet us.” She paused. “I bet them Doms’re goin’ all in to stop ’em, or bleed ’em so baad they won’t do us no good.” She looked at the senior dragoon who’d reported. “Tell Gener-aal Shinya whaat I said.”
They heard a rush of horse hooves and Shinya himself appeared with a small escort, accompanied by Colonel Garcia, whom he must’ve called along from his position with the Vengadores behind. “I’m sure you already know why I’m here,” he said.
“Doms’re fightin’ Nussies close enough to hear,” Blas replied.
Shinya nodded. “So it seems. Scouts aided by local guides just reported from the northeast.” Cannon started rumbling, shaking condensation from above, even at this distance. Everybody heard them now.
“How far?” Audrey asked.
“About six miles. The scouts saw two Dom regiments preparing a position across the north-south road I showed you on the map we’ve been compiling. Chances are, there are twice that many, but it’s likely the largest organized force they have left. No NUS forces were seen before the report was dispatched, but there can be no doubt who they’re fighting. If we crush the Doms between us now, we’ll not only relieve our allies, but should eliminate the last major obstacle between us and the Temple City.”
“We?” Sister Audrey asked wryly.
“Well, the Sister’s Own Division, of course,” Shinya replied with a smile. “The rest of us will smash the distraction ahead and proceed toward the village. I’ll expect you to join us there no later than tomorrow.” He looked at Blas. “Speaking of ‘distractions,’ bear in mind the enemy has their attention focused elsewhere just now. If you can remain undetected long enough to strike them from behind . . .”
“We got it,” Blas replied, turning to Garcia. “Shake the Vengadores an’ Col-nol Iverson’s Impies out. We’ll maarch in three columns as faast as we caan through thaat”—she pointed at the trees—“an’ won’t go into line until we’re behind the Doms.” She looked at Shinya. “You’ll give me the scouts that saaw?”
“You’ll have all you need.”
“An’ some o’ those little caannons? I like those.”
“Of course.”
“Good.” She addressed the others. “For now, then, I guess we maarch to the sound of the guns.”
It took three hours to navigate through the woods, being careful to maintain visual contact between the three columns, and it was early afternoon before they shook out into lines behind the Dom position. Blas sent several scouts to pick their way around the battle and try to contact the Nussies. “Tell ’em not to waste men on a frontal aassault, an’ for the Maker’s sake, cease firing when we hit ’em!” She hoped they’d get through. More scouts scurried back and forth, reporting the dispositions as best they could, drawing pictures in the soil and speaking excitedly with Arano Garcia. Blas shifted her entire division slightly to the right before she was satisfied. She still couldn’t see the enemy, the gloom and smoke under the trees was just too great, but she was assured they’d arrived completely undetected less than three hundred yards behind the enemy works.
“Wish we had a few real caannon,” First Sergeant Spook muttered loud enough for Blas to hear. She was still mounted and intended to stay that way. As far as she could recall, she’d only ever ridden into battle once before. Spook was obviously referring to the two batteries of 12pdr “mountain” howitzers unlimbering in
the ranks. They were relatively tiny things, each pulled by a limber hitched to a single horse and requiring half the crew of a full-sized gun. But Blas had used them to great effect in confined places. They were short-ranged, but that didn’t matter in a forest.
“In all these trees?” she scoffed. “Anything but caanister, we’d probably just bounce right back in our laaps.” Glancing back at Spook she was surprised to see him grinning at a ’Cat named Captain Aakon commanding one of the batteries. He’d been with them at El Corazon and replied with a grin of his own—and a lewd gesture they’d picked up from the Impies. Blas shook her head. Spook knew what the little guns were good for.
“You’ll advaance with the infaantry, Cap-i-taan Aakon,” she ordered. “We won’t fire until the enemy notices us, but when they do, I waant you to lay into them!”
“Ay, Col-nol.”
Blas noted that Aakon’s guns were already loaded, the charges in the barrels pinned in place with the vent picks. Not the safest way to transport them, but all his gunners had to do to fire was insert a friction primer and pull the lanyard. All the infantry had breechloading Allin-Silvas and Blitzerbug SMGs. They were already loaded, she knew, and as she watched, the order quietly spread to fix bayonets.
“Another bloody fight,” Sister Audrey said beside her. Blas didn’t know if she was referring to the ongoing battle or the part they were about to play. She supposed it didn’t matter. “There won’t be many more, you know,” Audrey continued in a strange tone. “Probably one last big one, after this,” she sighed. “Then we can rest.”
“I don’t know about thaat,” Blas retorted. “I doubt it. These daamn Doms’re crazy.”
Audrey looked fondly at her. “We’ve all gone a bit crazy in this war, I’m afraid. You did, for a time,” she reminded. “But you recollected yourself and that gives me hope others might be saved from insanity when this is done.”
“Well maybe,” Blas grudged, “but we’re gonna haafta kill a heap more of ’em to save a few—an’ some need killin’ before the rest’ll haave a chaance.”
Audrey patted her shoulder. “You know, Dennis Silva once told me almost precisely the same thing. You remind me too much of him at times. You’re just as lethal and just as necessary to the cause.” She smiled. “On the other hand, there are very distinct differences between you. You’re more pleasant to look upon, of course, but you also take your role in this far more personally. Maybe too much so.”
Blas was surprised. “Don’t you take it personaal? I’d figure you would more thaan most.”
“Actually, I don’t. Usually,” she qualified. “I try not to. I oppose the enemy behavior, not them. Just as that behavior insults the God”—she bowed her head—“the Maker they profess to revere, not me . . .” She frowned. “Though I suppose I do take it personally on His behalf.” She sighed again. “Oh well, so much for that. At least I’m honest about my inconsistencies.”
Blas grinned. “Thaat’s true. Now, why don’t we go do a little ‘opposing’?” She turned to Captain Ixtli. “Quietly now, paass the word: the division will advaance!”
The line bulged slightly as the 2nd of the 2nd Marines moved first, but the Impies and Vengadores had been expecting the order and quickly caught up, keeping the line as straight as possible in the maze of trees. There were stack-ups and breaks in places but they magically vanished moments later. These troops knew what they were doing and Blas spared an instant of appreciation for the apparent longevity of the mighty trees and big armored rooters (probably other things as well) that kept the ground so clear of deadfall.
She didn’t like keeping her troops so bunched up, though. That was a tactic the Allied armies had abandoned with their shields and had cost the Doms horrifically in every engagement. But if surprise was achieved, their first devastating fire and concentrated mass could be decisive. Still, the movement was incredibly loud to her and as they drew closer to the enemy—near enough for her to glimpse the color of their uniforms now—she couldn’t believe they’d remained undiscovered. Surely they had pickets out behind ’em? she thought. It seemed not, and even though the Doms didn’t have many cannon, they were maintaining a steady rate of fire, deafening them to all else and focusing their attention. Must haave everybody with a musket concentrating on the Nussies, Blas realized, and that’s when she knew Sister Audrey was right; this was the last serious resistance the Doms would mount for some time to come.
“I wonder if the scouts we sent to the Nussies got there,” she said aside to Captain Ixtli, “an’ got believed.”
They’d know soon enough. At barely a hundred and fifty yards behind the busy defenders, she saw a man in a yellow coat hurrying to the rear, possibly to secure more ammunition for his comrades. Seeing them, he stopped for a moment and simply stared. Then he pointed and gave a panicked cry. A gathering of officers turned to look, also hesitating in disbelief before they scattered, roaring commands.
“Pity we can’t seize this opportunity to demand their surrender,” Audrey said low, almost pleading, but she knew better herself.
Blas made no reply, instead raising her voice in that peculiar way Lemurians had of making themselves heard across vast distances. “Sister’s Own! Halt!” She took a breath while the order was repeated and the division ground to a stop, dressing its lines as best it could into three jumbled ranks. “Prepare to fire by raanks! Commence firing!”
The Vengadores constituted her heaviest brigade and some on the far right didn’t have targets, but the brigade composed of her Lemurian and Ocelomeh Marines and Iverson’s Imperials joined those that did in delivering what constituted a single, long, aimed volley. It was punctuated an instant later by the rolling booms of twelve little howitzers, spraying canister. Even before the last cannon fired, another rolling volley roared, followed by a third. The first rank’s breechloading Allin-Silvas would be ready to fire again by now, but the smoke hanging in front of them was so dense Blas didn’t think anyone could possibly see a clear target. With supplies still only trickling across such a long and perilous route, and so far still to go, now was no time to waste ammunition. She nodded at Captain Ixtli, who shouted at his bugler to sound the charge.
The 2nd of the 2nd and half the Vengadores swept forward, shouting and trilling their high, sharp, terrifying cries, and Ixtli urged his horse to follow. Captain Bustos started to join him before remembering his duty to Sister Audrey and pulling back.
“You’re not going with them?” Sister Audrey asked Blas, somewhat surprised.
“Not this time,” she replied, blinking commiseration at Bustos before raising her voice again, shouting to pass the word for Colonel Garcia to stand by. The rest of the Vengadores would follow the first assault and Iverson’s Impies and his own understrength battalion of Maa-ni-los would stand in reserve.
“Why not?” Audrey pressed. There was return fire now, and a few musket balls whizzed past. One struck a tree nearby with a dull thwok! showering them with fragments of bark.
Blas blinked respect at the blonde-haired nun, sitting unconcerned in her saddle. “You told me a while baack—again”—she flicked her tail—“the Maker knows how maany times you’ve tried to tell me, thaat my troops don’t always need—or waant—me by their side. Maay-be there is times I haave more importaant stuff to do, like waatchin’ their tails an’ staandin’ ready to send reserves if they need ’em.” She looked back to the front. There was another ferociously sustained crackle of rifle fire before the distinctive clash of steel on steel amid piercing screams. Almost immediately, the shooting and yelling began to taper off. Blas still couldn’t see anything through the smoke but her ears told her everything. “Our troops know I’ll be with ’em aat the end, just like you,” she continued, “but this ain’t it. How stupid would I be to get rubbed out now an’ not be there when they really need me?”
Cheers started drifting back through the wall of smoke, joined by the ululating cries of exult
ant Lemurians. There were a few final shots, then the forest erupted in a triumphant roar.
“Sounds like more thaan we sent into aaction,” Blas observed.
“It does,” Sister Audrey concurred, just as Lieutenant Anaar galloped back. The fur on his neck was matted with blood where a ball had grazed him but he was grinning hugely. “Cap-i-taan Ixtli begs to report the enemy works haave faallen. He’s securing prisoners now.” He blinked amazement. “There’s a buncha prisoners. He also aasks if you’ll come forwaard an’ meet a Lieuten-aant named ‘O’Riel,’ er somethin’, who led some guys over the breastworks from the other side right when we were hittin’ the Doms.” If it was possible, Anaar’s grin got bigger. “Says he’s a officer in the NUS Aarmy, an’ mighty glaad to see us.”
Late the next morning, under a clear blue sky that left everyone squinting as they finally entered a broad clearing in the sea of trees, Colonel Dao Iverson and his 6th Imperial Marines escorted almost thirteen hundred Doms into the picturesque river valley village of Neri. The village was built entirely of local stone, roofed with sawn timbers covered with living sod. There’d be a church, of course, but no pyramid-shaped temple could be seen. All around the town, stretching as far as the distant trees, was a grassy landscape covered by dingy, mildew-blackened canvas tents showing the hard use of a long, damp campaign. Colorful regimental flags fluttered in a woodsmoke-hazed morning breeze, and the flags of the United Homes and the Empire of the New Britain Isles flew in front of a larger tent at the center of it all, just outside the village. The company streets seemed to radiate outward from there.
Winds of Wrath Page 29