Fires of Memory

by Washburn, Scott;

  “We fight and we die. It seems like a very simple plan. Why does the thought worry me so much?”

  “It would scare anyone. But try not to worry. I’ll be right here, too and I’ll…” Without thinking, Jarren patted at his side and then snatched his hand away and could feel the heat rising in his cheeks. Lyni noticed immediately.

  “What have you got there?” she asked, moving closer and staring.

  “Oh, nothing…”

  “Don’t give me that! What have you got under your cloak?” Lyni came closer and seized his arm with surprising strength. She pulled aside his cloak, revealing the sword that was hanging there.

  “Jarren, what is that?” she demanded.

  “What does it look like?”

  “It looks like a sword. Why are you carrying it?”

  “To fight—if necessary. There will be a battle tomorrow, you know! Everyone thinks I’m such a weakling, but I will not just stand around and be butchered. I’ll fight to defend myself—and I’ll fight to protect you.”

  Lyni laughed. She suddenly produced a long dagger from under her own cloak, which she spun and then snatched it expertly out of the air. “I can protect myself if it comes to that, Jarren.” She paused and he could see her eyes glinting in the light of the fires. “But thank you for wanting to protect me. You are a very sweet man.”

  “Thank you, Lyni.”

  The woman turned and looked at the endless Kaifeng camp. “We shall probably die tomorrow, Jarren,” she whispered. “I have no intention of being taken alive if we lose, but intentions count for little in a situation like this. Anything might happen to thwart my intentions. It is still possible I’ll be taken.”

  “I’ll stand by you…”

  “I know, and I appreciate it. But your intentions count for no more than mine.” She paused and turned back to face him. “I’ve never been with a man, Jarren. I was a bit smitten with Stephanz once, until I realized what a fool he was, but I’ve never had a lover. But if I had to give up my maidenhead, and had the choice of having the Kaifs take it by force, or of giving it to someone I care about, well, I’d choose the latter.”

  Jarren gasped slightly. Was she actually suggesting…?

  “Jarren, your mouth is open,” said Lyni. “Close it and come along. The bunk in my wagon is big enough for two.” She reached out and took his hand. In a daze, he followed her. He was acutely aware of the touch of her hand. It was like Peretski’s apparatus at the university for creating static electricity.

  As they got near the camp, he hesitated. “Perhaps your wagon is not the best idea…”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, those springs they have. If we were… From outside it might be rather… obvious.”

  Lyni laughed. “Always the scientist! But I suppose you are right. Where then?”

  “My tent is large enough…”

  “What about Gez?”

  “I’ll find an errand that will keep him busy for a while.”

  “More than a while, I hope!” she said with a wink of her eye. “All right. Lead on, Master Carabello!”

  * * * * *

  Thelena was roused from a deep sleep by the sound of Kareen moaning. Even though the warmer weather did not require them to snuggle anymore, they still slept very close together, and a sudden kick brought Thelena fully awake. Kareen was thrashing about in her blankets.

  “Kareen? What’s wrong?” She reached out to touch her.

  “Matt!” Kareen shouted and sat bolt upright. “Matt! No!”

  “Kareen! You’re dreaming! Wake up!” Thelena grabbed her by the arms and shook her gently. For a moment she resisted, but then she came awake. She looked at Thelena in confusion and then clung to her, sobbing softly.

  “It was just a dream, it was just a dream,” soothed Thelena.

  “Oh! Oh, what a nightmare!” she gasped. “I…I saw Matt. He was wearing armor like an old knight. He was on an armored horse leading hundreds and thousands of other men. He had a bright gold helmet with a big red plume. He looked so gallant and brave. And then…and then he dissolved in flames! He and all the others burned up!”

  “It was just a dream,” said Thelena. She rocked her slowly back and forth and stroked her hair.

  “It was so real,” she whispered. “I’ve never had a dream that seemed so real.” Kareen pulled away from Thelena and stared into the darkness. “He’s there. He’s over there across the valley with the other army.”

  “You don’t know that…”

  “He’s there! You know him: if he did get away, can you imagine him being anywhere else right now?”

  “No…”

  “He’s there. And tomorrow he will be in the battle.” Kareen turned and looked to the spot where Atark usually slept. “And tomorrow, your father is going to kill him.”

  “Hush, Kareen, hush! Go back to sleep.”

  But she would not go back to sleep, and Thelena held her until dawn.

  * * * * *

  Matt was up before the first light. He sat on a gun carriage and looked out across the valley at the Kaifeng camp. The sky to the east was turning blue, but the west was still in darkness. A few of the brighter stars were still visible, and many campfires could be seen.

  Is Kareen over there? He’d dreamed of his sister during the night, and the image was still fresh in his mind. She had been dressed in Kaifeng fashion, but she was struggling wildly in the grasp of strong arms. She had seemed terrified. If he knew exactly where she was, it almost seemed like he could walk across the valley and just bring her back with him. But the Kaifeng camp was enormous. There would be no hope of finding one girl in all that.

  The light grew, and the enemy tents took on a pink glow. There were so many of them. Two hundred thousand warriors, the scouts said. But that would just be the able bodied men. The Kaifs traveled with their herds and families—and their slaves. There could be a half-dozen others for every warrior. The amazing thought struck Matt that he might be staring at the largest city in the entire world. A city of canvas and leather. He came from a world where the cities were made of stone and bricks and wood, but if this day went against them, all the stone and brick and wood cities might be reduced to rubble and ashes, and then only cities of leather and canvas would remain.

  A few whispered orders close at hand dragged his attention away from the enemy camp. There were hundreds of men at work just beyond the line of stacked muskets. They had been out here for an hour or more, working by the starlight. Now they were finishing their tasks and moving back toward their camps. From where Matt was sitting, he could just make out what they had been doing. Hundreds—thousands—of small packages had been left in neat rows just beyond the muskets. Each was a bit larger than a man’s fist and each was wrapped in a piece of oilcloth to keep the heavy morning dew from soaking them. They could not afford to let these packages get wet! Matt could see them easily enough, but from any distance, they would be hidden by the tall grass.

  The clank of a pick and shovel from behind him showed that not everyone was done working. He looked over his shoulder and saw the artillerymen working to pack dirt around the edges of a series of shallow holes they had dug in the ground. The holes were about three feet square and four feet deep, with the dirt around the edge rising up another three feet or so. Farther to the rear were much larger holes with the dirt parapets rising nearly six feet high.

  As he watched, the first rays of sunlight peeked over the distant trees and sparkled off the bayonets of the stacked weapons. The glittering line stretched away for over three miles in each direction. To the south, it ran down the ridge until it met the river. To the north, it went up the ridge to where the forest began. It was almost seven miles from end to end. This was far longer than any usual line of battle and, contrary to every accepted tactical doctrine, there was only a single line of those stacked muskets. Granted, when the men actually fell in, that single line of battle would be three ranks deep, but there were no reserves. Normally, an army would array itself w
ith two or even three lines of battle. The second and third lines would provide reserves to plug gaps, launch counterattacks, or relieve front line regiments who had used up their ammunition.

  That was not going to happen today. There would be no extended firefights, and hopefully no gaps in the line or need for counterattacks or relief. No, if things went as Matt hoped, the battle would be decided in the first five minutes. That was why they had fallen back to this position from where they had been: it was long enough to put all the infantry on the front line. It let them bring every single musket to bear.

  There were thirty batteries of artillery spaced along the line. Each one was fronted with sharpened wood stakes, making the more distant ones look like bristly hedgehogs. Projectiles were piled up beside each gun: round shot, grape shot, and canister. Small wooden chests to the rear held the treated gunpowder. Even farther to the rear, set in other small holes, were the crystal chests with the reserve ammunition. Two of the chests had cracked on the journey here, so only twenty-three of the batteries had one.

  The army actually did have some reserves. A dozen small regiments of infantry were scattered along the line, each man in those regiments had two rounds of ammunition. They were there as a last resort. And there was the cavalry. All of the cavalry was in reserve. The light cavalry on the flanks and the heavier stuff distributed at points along the line. Matt’s own brigade was immediately behind the center.

  Bugles and drums welcomed the dawn and called the men to morning roll call and then breakfast. Matt got up from his seat and walked slowly back toward his own headquarters. The sixteen hundred men of his brigade were all up and about by the time he got there—although he doubted many of them had gotten much sleep last night. Everyone was aware of what would happen today. The camps had been strangely quiet. No singing or joking. No gambling; not even much drinking. And the chaplains had been doing a lot of business. Each man was preparing for the battle in his own way. He reached his tent and saw his servants and staff laying out the breakfast.

  “Morning, gentlemen,” he said as cheerily as he could. “Eat hearty, we’re going to have a very busy day.”

  * * * * *

  Atark groaned as he came awake. It had been a late night and the morning was here all too soon, although from the light, it was several hours past dawn. Thelena and the slave were busy making breakfast, but his daughter smiled when she saw him.

  “Good morning, Father. Did you sleep well?”

  “Well enough, I suppose.” It was a lie. He had not slept well at all and he felt very tired. There had been many strange dreams, and as he sat there, one came back to him. It had been from five years ago when the Varags had attacked them. Or it seemed that way. Some things were the same: the pain of a knife entering him, his daughter’s scream. But other things were different: Shelena and Ardan were not there, nor, for that matter, were there any Varags to be seen. Just the pain and the scream, and then he was looking at his daughter lying on the ground. She had blood on her face and was apparently hurt badly—or dead.

  He shook his head to clear the disturbing image and accepted a small cup of yetchi mixed with water from Thelena. “The battle will be today?” she asked.

  “Yes. Probably before noon. Are you going to stay and use the poppy juice, or ride to the rear?”

  “I…I think I will stay. I’d have to work my way through the entire camp to get to the rear. They are packed in terribly tight behind us. No, I’ll stay and take the juice.”

  Atark nodded and then looked closely at his daughter. She had said nothing, but he could sense her disapproval. “I know you don’t like me taking the sacrifices, Thelena. It disturbs me, as well. But it is necessary. And after today, after we crush the enemy, perhaps there will be no need to take more in the future. When we win today, the entire east will be prostrate before us. Then we can have peace.”

  “I pray the gods you are right, Father. I grow so sick of blood and death.”

  “Yes.” He said no more and ate a few bites of the breakfast the women had prepared. The slave woman was becoming quite a good cook. He had never gone through with his plan to dispose of her; there were always so many other things demanding his attention. Still, it needed to be done. His daughter was getting far too close to the slave. If other people noticed, it could have ugly repercussions. Perhaps after this battle he would seek out a slave merchant and sell the woman. Perhaps this very day while his daughter was senseless from the poppy juice. Yes, that could work.

  His stomach was still queasy from the night before, and in spite of the good food, he could not eat much. He embraced his daughter and left the tent. Outside, his guards shouted greetings to him when they saw him. They were eager for the battle, even though they would not actually be involved in the fighting. Many of them were carefully sharpening their bronze swords. Atark had commissioned more of the weapons over the winter, and now all his men had them. Six hundred sacrifices had been ordered for the day’s battle, and he was certain the executions would go off smoothly.

  Truth to tell, his guard embarrassed him a bit. There were nearly a thousand of them now, and they all seemed fanatically loyal. They boasted in front of the other warriors that their lord did all the real fighting, and that often sparked quarrels. He knew some of the kas viewed his guard with great suspicion—no shaman ever had such a thing before. Hopefully, if this battle did prove to be the end of real resistance, he could cut back on the size of the group—although how he could pick the men to let go, he did not know.

  Gettain came up to him and bowed. “Good morning, Lord! The army is already beginning to gather. A few hours and they shall be ready.”

  “What of the enemy?” he asked. His camp was near the forefront of the army, and he could see their lines from here. There did not appear to be any change from the day before.

  “They are still in place, Lord. Ripe for the slaughter!”

  “Very well. Assemble the men and bring the sacrifices forward. It would not do to keep the re-ka waiting on this day of victory.”

  * * * * *

  Thelena looked after her father as he left the tent. She was worried about him again. He drove himself so hard. How long could he keep it up? She turned and looked at Kareen washing the breakfast dishes. She was worried about her, too. The nightmare had clearly disturbed her badly. But could it really be true? Was Matt over on the other side of the valley? It was all too likely that he was. The rumors said that the whole east had gathered to oppose them. Why wouldn’t Matt be there, too? And if he was, he would probably die today. The thought made Thelena very sad. They had gone to so much effort, expended so much fear and pain, to save him the first time. There would be no hope of doing it again—even if he survived the battle.

  She just hoped that if he was there, he would die quickly and painlessly, and that Kareen would never find the body. If Matt was buried in some nameless grave, then Kareen could cling to the hope that he still lived. Thelena did not want to see Kareen hurt any more.

  They spent the next hour in chores around the tent, but they could hear the sounds of the army gathering for battle. Horns and shouts, the clank of weapons, the whinnying of horses, and the thunder of hooves filled the air. Thelena could see Kareen getting tenser and tenser. She hoped the woman would not do something stupid. Thelena went out of the tent for a moment to see what was happening. The army was spread out before her, and the enemy was on the far ridge. She could see the platform her father would use for the magic, although he was not on it yet. She shuddered when she saw the sacrifices already in position. It would soon be time. She went back into the tent.

  She found a small leather bag and took out a glass container that had an amber liquid inside. She poured a glass of wine and then put a few drops of the liquid in it. “Kareen, I’m taking this now. Would…would you like to have a little? It might help you to relax.”

  “No thank you, Thelena,” said Kareen, but she would not meet her eyes. She looked at her for a few moments and then drained the glass
, grimacing at the bitter taste. The drink took a little while to take effect, and she settled herself into a comfortable position on the cushions. Slowly, a warm haze began to grip her. Then she realized that Kareen was gone. A sudden panic shot through her. “Kareen!” she shouted. She struggled to get up, but her limbs felt like lead. “Kareen!” An instant later Kareen was there.

  “Thelena! What’s wrong?”

  “Oh, Kareen. I…I thought you’d gone off somewhere.”

  “I was just emptying the wash water. Are you all right?”

  “I was afraid you were going to…going to…”

  “Do something stupid? Like try to stop your father?” Thelena nodded numbly. The drug was working now, and it was hard to think.

  “There’s nothing I can do, Thelena,” said Kareen, and she could see that her face was streaked with tears. “There are six hundred guards around your father now. Besides, I promised you I would be a good slave. I still owe you for two lives. I can’t ask for any more.” Thelena made a huge effort and held out her arms. Kareen knelt down beside her and hugged her.

  The world was spinning around and going dark, but Thelena could still feel Kareen’s warm embrace. She felt very safe and content.

  “I love you, Kareen,” she whispered. It was so faint in her own ears, she wondered if she had really said it at all, or if Kareen had heard her. But the grip on her tightened, and she heard a voice whispering back.

  “I love you, too, Thelena.”

  * * * * *

  The bugles rang and the drums rolled and the bands played. Sergeants shouted and the men scrambled into their ranks next to the stacked muskets. Once those same sergeants were satisfied that the ranks were really straight and that the interval between the ranks was really correct, the officers took over and had the stacks of muskets disassembled and the weapons passed back to their owners. The muskets were now closely inspected both by the privates and their sergeants. They had already been inspected once in the morning, and any rust caused by the dew had been buffed away. Now they were inspected again. The flints were all new, of course, but each man was required to cock and fire the empty weapon to prove the flint would spark properly. They could not afford misfires today! There would be some—a lot actually—but everything possible was done to keep the number low.