by Bunch, Chris
“More questions,” he said, holding up a hand for my continued silence. “Why did he wait to cast his Great Spell until the Guardsmen were already on the bridge? Already on it, already dying? There, I think that’s more than enough, so I’ll leave you.
“One other thing that just came to me as I talked. Remember the demon that destroyed Chardin Sher?”
I shuddered. In spite of all the horrors I’d seen, that mountainous four-armed V-mouthed demon was the worst.
“I’ll make a wager I’ll never be around to collect,” Yonge said. “I’ll wager you’ll see that fiend again. Not now. But later. When all seems lost. Now, Numantian, good-bye. And take good care.”
Before I could clasp him in my arms, try to argue or even say anything, he slipped away, around the imperial bodyguards’ warming tent. I went after him. But he wasn’t in the tent, or, when I circled it, anywhere around it.
So passed Yonge the Kaiti, by far the strangest of all the tribunes of Numantia.
• • •
I was in my blankets, pretending sleep as a calm, confident commander should, actually trying to blank my mind, trying to avoid thinking of the past two years of unrelenting sorrow and pain, when Captain Balkh woke me.
The news was as disastrous as it was shocking. The Twentieth Heavy Cavalry had lost contact with the rearmost elements of the five Guard Corps and their supporting elements, which Herne commanded, and had sent out a patrol. They found nothing — Herne’s positions had been abandoned.
He’d marched his entire force, almost twenty thousand men, due east, into the enemy lines. Heme, we learned later, had ridden in front with a white flag, shouting his surrender. I don’t know how he fooled his officers, whether he said he’d gotten imperial orders to take positions to the east before dawn, or if the azaz seized the moment and used his magic to fog the minds of our soldiers.
All that mattered was the gaping hole between my rear guard and the rest of the army. Minutes after I was roused, I heard the sounds of battle. The Maisirians had discovered the hole and were attacking through it. Herne’s treason was about to destroy us all.
I had to do something, and it couldn’t be anything predictable. An idea came, which at best might mean we’d be on our own in the suebi for several days, at worst … But I refused to think about that.
I sent Captain Balkh, wearing my helmet and with the Red Lancers, to the Twentieth Heavy, ordering them to fake an attack toward the Maisirians, as if I were leading an assault to link up with the rest of the army.
They were to strike until they hit real resistance, then fall back on the Seventeenth, which was to be an assembly point for our support units, the ragtag men who’d fallen to the rear, and those civilians prepared for a hard march instead of slavery or death. Then the entire formation would strike due west, away from the Maisirians, away from Oswy, with the Tenth Hussars leading the formation.
We would turn north after I’d broken contact with the Maisirians, circle east-northeast and rejoin the army at Oswy. It was a desperate hope, but the best we had.
• • •
The Twentieth Heavy Cavalry, even though they were decimated, their horses barely able to manage a trot, smashed into the Maisirians. The enemy had rushed forward with vast glee, looting what little there was to steal, and were swarming about, not yet re-formed, when the cavalry hit them. They fell back in amazement, shocked that the Numantians were able to mount a counterattack so quickly.
Before they could recover, the Twentieth withdrew as quickly as it had come. By the time they rejoined the Seventeenth, the Lancers were ready to move, and the column pushed out, away from the road, into the open suebi.
It was hard going, and again men and horses went down, and civilian carts weren’t able to keep up, and so the panicked sutlers and camp followers had to grab what they could and trundle on afoot.
But this wasn’t the worst. The ambulances filled with our sick and wounded bogged or overturned as they tried to cross the deep ravines that intersected our path.
I gave hard orders: Abandon the train. Even Domina Bikaner gave me a shocked look before he saluted and went to see my orders were obeyed. But it was simple in my mind: Either they would fall into the hands of the Maisirians, or we all would. A handful of chirurgeons volunteered to stay with them, and while I admired their bravery and dedication, I refused to allow it. We’d need every one of them on the march. Men and not a few women cursed, screamed at us, as they saw men cutting the trails of the horses pulling the ambulances, but their anger was to no avail. An hour later, we marched away, leaving some of our honor and our hearts as we did. But compassion had no place in this wasteland.
• • •
Two hours later, as I was hoping my ruse had succeeded, our outriders reported Negaret patrols. I cursed — our movement would be followed and reported to King Bairan, giving him more than enough time to move troops between us and Oswy. But I had to continue the attempt, and ordered the Tenth to swing north.
Then came horror. The snow ahead of the Tenth’s screen heaved as though it were alive, as if great burrowing creatures were under it. The hillocks sped toward our men, then buried the lead elements as they screamed and tried to run, nightmarishly slow through the waist-deep snow. But no one saw or felt anything under the snow.
This was the surprise Tenedos had planned for the Negaret, a horror weapon that had turned against us. The snow-burrowers — snow-worms if that’s what they were — smashed men down, broke them like frozen twigs.
The Tenth fell back, and the snow-worms turned away, not interested in anything moving away from Oswy.
Now we were doomed. South and east was the empty, man-destroying suebi, west were the Maisirians, north were the snow creatures. Then something came, an utterly foolish notion, as I realized we were out of contact for the moment — the Negaret patrols following us had fled even faster from the nightmares than we had.
I summoned my three dominas and the tough regimental guide who was the most senior of Yonge’s skirmishers, and told them we were about to make a one-day forced march, and to put the strongest men at the rear, not to guard against attack, but to make sure everyone kept moving and that we left as few tracks as we could. Put the weakest on horseback, I said, and everyone else afoot.
We had two Chare Brethren, and I ordered them to summon flames to consume any corpses. We were going to try to vanish. This might give us a slight, very slight, chance of life. Otherwise, we might as well start thinking of ourselves as either Maisirian slaves or frozen corpses.
“What direction will we march?” Bikaner asked.
“East,” I answered. “East by northeast.”
Almost directly away from the emperor and our army. The only chance we had was to break contact with the enemy, and then attempt an impossibility: to cross the mountains into Numantia as I’d done once before.
But then I’d had only a handful of men in prime condition to worry about; now I’d cross with several hundred shattered, starving men and some camp followers.
I should have ordered an attack, back the way we came so we could die nobly and uselessly for the emperor.
But I stood by my foolishness.
• • •
Two hours later we stumbled off into the empty suebi. I put my Red Lancers at the rear of the formation and told them to obey my command with no bowels, no mercy. No man was allowed the privilege of dying, not until nightfall. I was the last of all, screaming, shouting until my voice sounded as if it were drawn across broken glass.
I swore at men, and they swore at me. I struck them, and they tried, feebly, to hit me. But I always sidestepped the blows, and then taunted them to try again, or were they weak worms? I said I’d call them women, but that would shame the sex, for women were ahead of them — sutlers, laundry maids, whores, who knew, who cared.
I felt no fatigue, no exhaustion, no hunger. I’d become a creature of the snows, of the wilderness, and drew my strength from the wilds around me.
W
e went on, and on, and slowly the smoke of Oswy’s warm fires slipped back over the horizon, and there was nothing but empty prairie in front of us. It began to snow, and for the first time the storm was the blessing of Isa, of Nicias, of Irisu the Preserver, for it hid our path, and blinded any enemies who might’ve pursued.
Eventually I called for a halt. We collapsed in our tracks, and the long frozen night dragged past.
• • •
I commandeered Balkh’s horse and pushed ahead before dawn. About half an hour distant was a tiny valley surrounded by twisted low trees. A frozen stream ran along one side. I rode back and told my officers to get everyone moving.
An hour later, they did, but there were twenty-three bodies in the snow. I had my Lancers drag them together, but forbade my sorcerers to try to burn them. We could afford neither the smoke, the loss of the magical energies, nor the possibility the azaz’s War Magicians might pick up our scent.
It took almost two hours to reach the valley, but we did. I had the men assemble in whatever formations they had left, and it was a pathetic sight. Bikaner and his adjutant did a fast count and reported. We had forty-six of my Red Lancers, one hundred fifty of the Seventeenth, about two hundred of the Tenth Hussars, the same number of the Twentieth, some of Yonge’s skirmishers, three hundred fifty or so odds and sods from other formations, forty-nine women, and even a scattering of children. I tried to hide a wince. Ration strength of the Seventeenth Lancers was over seven hundred, the Tenth Hussars and Twentieth Heavy Cavalry nine hundred each.
I had to do something to make people believe there was the slightest chance of life. I told the men to break ranks and form up around me. The wind blew cold, but it was over our heads, whispering across the suebi beyond the valley.
“Well,” I started, knowing better than to sound inspirational, “I don’t know about you, but I’m glad to be away from the army.” That brought a shock.
“At least we aren’t wallowing along in their shit and ashes,” I said, and there were a few snickers. “That’s what I like, to be out here where someone can breathe, where there’s plenty of fresh air.” There were a few open laughs.
“All right. We’ve been cut off from the emperor,” I said. “And that fucking Bairan is rubbing his hands together, thinking that he’s got us on toast. I’m going to prove him full of horseshit, and anyone who wants to do the same is welcome to take a little walk with me.”
“Where we goin', Tribune?” somebody shouted.
“We’re going to stroll across the suebi until we come to some mountains,” I said. “Then we’ll go up ‘em, and down the other side, and we’ll be right at the borders of Numantia. We ought to be home sometime in the Time of Births, so the weather’ll be fine. Anybody want to go with me?”
Again, mutters, some laughter. But most faces still looked empty, hopeless. “Or do you want to see how many ways a Maisirian clod-knocker has to keep you screaming before you go to the Wheel?”
A hard-faced warrant stepped forward. “Ain’t gonna happen to me, Tribune. I ain’t plannin’ on bein’ taken alive. And they’ll know they been in a pissin’ match when they come for me.”
“Good,” I said. “But wouldn’t you rather stay alive and get your own back another day?”
“Hells yes! But — ”
“But nothing, man. Now, shut the fuck up and listen!”
“Sir!” And he fell back into the formation.
“That’s the spirit we need,” I said. “Because all of us are going to try to stay alive. Look at the man — or woman — on your left. Do you know him? You’d better, because he’s going to get your sorry ass over those mountains. Tell him your name. Go ahead. Right now.”
Silence, then a babble as some, then more, obeyed.
“We’re going to spend the rest of the day here. First we’re going to put everyone into a formation. If you’re already part of one, you’re going to get reinforced. Friends stay with friends when we divide up. That’ll help.
“I’m going to make some men officers, others warrants today. Maybe you’ve never held any rank, and don’t want it, don’t think you can carry the weight. Tough shit. You’ll do it, and you’ll do a damned good job of it. Another thing we’ll do is divide up all supplies. There’ll be no more fat bastards eating while others starve. We all eat or none of us. That goes for officers, warrants, men, civilians.
“Now, I want the Tenth, Seventeenth, and Twentieth on that side of the valley. The rest of you, see if there’s anybody else from your old unit. Get moving. I want to be on the road before any Maisirians wander across our tracks.”
That put people in motion.
There were a surprising number of Yonge’s skirmishers still alive. In spite of their hazardous duties, I had ninety-two of my original two hundred. I took them to one side and told them they were all promoted sergeant.
“The reason I’m promoting you isn’t that I think you’re heroes. Yonge told me better. I know you’re thieves, sneaks, back-stabbers. Like your leader. And I’m damned proud he tried to train me to be like you.”
I waited until the laughter died.
“I’m not promoting you because you’re good, just because you’re still alive. Now I want you to help all these others stay the same. But there’ll be one change. There’s no more of just worrying about your own flea-bitten hides. Each of you’ll have at least a squad, some more. If you don’t like it, my piles bleed for you. You’re welcome to see if the other side can use you.”
There was louder laughter, for the skirmishers were thought bandits, lawless murderers for whom there was no mercy, even from their counterparts in the Negaret. “Now, all of you report to Domina Bikaner of the Seventeenth for your new posts.”
Late in the day, we gathered in our new formations.
“Good,” I shouted. “You almost look like soldiers again.” Even though they were bearded and ragged, and I could smell them from where I stood, they held their weapons ready, and I knew they could use them. “Look again at the man on your left. Now you know his name. You’re mates, whether you like it or not. And my first order is that you’re to make sure that man beside you lives to see Numantia. Because if he doesn’t, most likely you won’t, either. There’ll be no more of this pull for yourself and let the other bastard sweat.
“We’re all in this sewer together, and we’ll all get out of it together. We’re an army again, and warriors once more. No more of this hobbling along, letting any shitty-dicked Maisirian do whatever he wants. From now on, we’ll fight them if they find us, and make them sorry they ever came on our trail.
“You know me, you know how I smashed the bastards every time they hit us. If they find us now, we’ll do the same. Let them get their fingers lopped off to the knuckle, and they’ll go somewhere else, looking for easier targets.
“That’s enough words,” I finished. “Let’s take our walk.”
• • •
I still wished for death, for oblivion. But not yet. First I must try to cross those great mountains. Most likely I’d fail, and we’d all die, for I didn’t believe a thousand soldiers could manage that smuggler’s track.
But I wouldn’t let myself be killed. Ironically, I found myself praying, empty words, but still saying them, prayers to Vachan, my monkey god of wisdom, and to Tanis, asking for the boon of life.
Twice now I’d sworn fealty to Saionji, after Tenedos had brought me back from the fire, and when Alegria had died, and promptly tried to renege on my vows.
The goddess couldn’t be thinking very much of me as a mad juggernaut, I thought, and had to laugh. With the laughter, I felt myself coming alive a bit, coming from under my woe cloak.
Again, I remembered the wizard’s prophesy when I was born, and prayed I had been savaged enough by the tiger, and that again it was my turn to ride him, and that the thread of my life would run on. At least for a while.
I had my warrants and officers up and down the ranks constantly, shouting orders as they’d always done, but now
doing something different — showing they deserved their tabs, their sashes. They swore at a man who dropped his weapon, but if he couldn’t lift it, they carried it for him until he got some strength back. If he went down, they bullied two of his comrades into draping the man’s arms over their shoulders and going on.
If they didn’t do this, and thought my words were as empty as the wind — that first day I reduced seven officers and thirteen warrants to the ranks.
Compared to the pace I’d made with Bakr and his Negaret, we were crawling. But we were moving, every day farther away from Bairan and his army.
• • •
I asked the two Chare Brethren to try a spell to contact the other magicians in our army. They’d barely made marks in the snow for their symbols and burned a few herbs when one shouted in fear and kicked the markings into nothingness.
“He’s out there,” he managed to say. “Somebody is. Somebody looking for us.”
We made no more attempts to communicate with the emperor.
• • •
A man fell to his knees, moaning. I was on him and jerked him to his feet.
“Please. Please. Just let me die,” he begged.
“I will, you bastard. But in Numantia. Not here. Get up, you piece of shit! No wonder you’re down, you asshole! Your whore of a mother didn’t have time to give you any heart, did she! Nor did any of the pimps who could be your father,” I raved.
The man’s eyes sparked life, and he swung at me.
“Not close,” I jeered. “Come on. Try again.”
He did, and I let the blow land against my chest.
“I’ve been hit harder by babies,” I laughed, and stalked away. He shouted a curse at me, and I hid my smile. He might make it across the mountains, if for no other reason than to kill me.