“You almost convince me, scholar.” Rescalyn’s voice remained cheerful.
“Of what?”
“That you are what you say.”
“Everything I’ve said is true.”
“I’m certain it is, but that doesn’t mean you’ve told me everything.”
Quaeryt shook his head ruefully. “There’s no end to that. To tell you everything about me, or for you to tell me everything about you, would take more time than either of us has.”
Abruptly, the sound of a horn echoed from the rear. Quaeryt didn’t understand the signal, but Rescalyn did, for he wheeled his mount.
“They’re being attacked!” The governor stood in the stirrups. “Column halt! Commander! Take charge here! Scholar! Follow me!”
Quaeryt did indeed follow Rescalyn back along the shoulder of the road, although the distance between them widened with every moment that passed. As the commands passed down the column, companies were turning, and weapons were out and at the ready.
Quaeryt caught up with the governor at the head of the wagons, near the two engineering wagons, and the supply wagons behind them. Rescalyn had reined up and was talking intently to a graying major, who seemed to shrink into his saddle with each word from the governor.
After halting the mare well away from what was clearly some sort of dressing-down, Quaeryt waited and looked to the east. The two last supply wagons were burning fiercely, with black and gray smoke rising into the gauzy sky, seemingly eventually mixing with the high haze. While two companies rode back toward the column from the northeast, Quaeryt saw no sign of any attackers. Suddenly, he realized that he was carrying full shields-and he hadn’t even noticed. He almost shook his head, but lowered them to the lighter shields, with the triggers for contact … and waited.
After a time, Rescalyn nodded to the major, then turned his gelding and rode back toward Quaeryt. Since the governor didn’t stop, Quaeryt turned the mare and swung up alongside Rescalyn, keeping pace with him, but saying nothing.
After several moments, Rescalyn spoke, gesturing back and to the right. “They rode out of a swale back there. They caught the rear guard by surprise.” He shook his head. “You’d think that by now…”
“They only think that surprises happen in the hills,” Quaeryt pointed out.
“You’re right.” Rescalyn laughed ruefully. “Expecting only what happened before cost a score or more of the rear guard their lives. It could have been worse, if the hill forces had been looking for a fight. I pointed that out to the major.”
“They were just trying to destroy supplies?” asked Quaeryt. “With fire arrows?”
“Quarrels filled with flaming pitch … or something like that. They’re trying to make the point that they can destroy our supplies and attack anywhere.”
“The rear guard didn’t go that far after them. They were riding back by the time I got to the supply wagons.”
“No. There’s no point in that. The major did understand that. Before long, we’d be spread over hundreds of milles and be bleeding from scores of cuts.”
Quaeryt waited.
“You aren’t saying anything, scholar.”
“You have a different plan. I was waiting to hear it.”
“It’s simple enough. Once they return to the woods and hills, they split up. There’s no point in trying to track down individuals, but we don’t have to. The winters here are long and cold, and without supplies, even the angriest hill holders can’t do much. First, we break the siege at Boralieu. By besieging it, they’ve done us a favor. That concentrates their forces, and we can do more damage to them. Then we move on each hill hold and level it. We take the supplies we can use and destroy the rest. The hill holders have been a plague on Tilbor for too long.”
“Won’t they just attack the column once you leave Boralieu?”
“That’s what scouts are for. It’s hard on them, but it cuts overall losses.”
While Quaeryt admired the brutal simplicity of the plan, including the fact that it was timed just after most harvests were gathered in, he had to wonder, as he knew he did too often, whether Rescalyn’s abilities matched his confidence.
77
By the time the column was riding westward again, more than a glass had passed since the attack. Rescalyn and Myskyl had deployed additional scouts, and the column moved more slowly than it had previously, almost ponderously, as the riders and wagons passed through the fields, pastures, and orchards belonging to High Holder Dymaetyn. Quaeryt saw almost no one, and those few men he did catch sight of vanished almost immediately, very understandably. He saw no women at all, although crofter women often worked fields and orchards. That, too, was more than understandable.
Progress was so slow that when the lower edge of the sun touched the horizon, the vanguard was still a good five milles from the scattered woods at the base of the long and broad ridge-like hills that rose on the eastern side of the valley holding Boralieu, and shadows cloaked the spaces between the trees.
“It’s getting late to travel those hills,” said Rescalyn cheerfully.
“You think the hill holders are waiting there.”
“I’m certain they are. Part of the reason for the attack was to delay us enough that we either have to make camp short of the eastern hills or travel them at dusk or later. Either way offers an opportunity for them to attack again.”
“Which way are you choosing, might I ask, sir?”
“What do you think?”
“From what you said earlier, I’d guess-it’s only a guess-that you intend to stop and make camp, but have a battalion or two ready at all times.”
“Something like that.” Rescalyn smiled. “Oh … from here on, you’re attached to Sixth Battalion. They’re three battalions back. You might as well join Major Skarpa now.”
“Yes, sir. Do you have any other instructions for me?”
“I’ll be interested in your observations after the campaign is over, scholar. I trust you’ll be as observant about battles and skirmishes as documents.”
“I’ll do my best, but documents don’t move around the way that soldiers and raiders do.”
Rescalyn laughed. “That’s just one of the differences.” He urged his mount forward to rejoin Commander Myskyl, riding just ahead.
Quaeryt swung the mare wide and out beyond the shoulder. He didn’t push her, just let her walk with the low sun on his back, until he saw the ensign with the six on it, carried by a junior ranker.
Skarpa raised an arm in greeting. “I thought we might be seeing you before long, scholar.” The major grinned as Quaeryt rode toward him. “The commander said you were being sent to us because the governor wanted you to see all the action.”
I’m sure he did … and that he hopes I don’t return from all that action. Quaeryt was glad he’d thought to bring along the old large uniform shirt. That way, at least he wouldn’t stand out too much, but he hadn’t wanted to wear it yet … and not around the governor. “I think he feels scholars need to get out of books and documents and see what really happens.”
“For all that you’re a scholar, and maybe even a chorister of sorts, Master Quaeryt, I don’t see you as one buried in books.”
“I like the books, but the governor has indicated that books and documents aren’t enough for what I must report to Lord Bhayar. As for being a chorister, I’m not friendly enough with the Nameless for that.”
“You don’t sound fond of the governor or the Nameless.”
“I have no doubt that Governor Rescalyn is an excellent commander, and a most effective governor. He can’t help but resent that a young scholar has been sent from Solis and ordered to serve on his staff. It’s my fortune to have both Lord Bhayar and Governor Rescalyn wanting me somewhere else. Under those circumstances, I’d rather be where I am-with Sixth Battalion.” Quaeryt didn’t want to say more about the Nameless, not unless he was pressed.
“We’re glad to have you.”
The next glass passed quickly enough, a
nd before that long, the regiment was setting up camp on a low knoll a good half mille from the nearest tendril of woods on the lower section of the hills. There were no cookfires once the force stopped. The evening meal, such as it was, consisted of hard yellow cheese and harder biscuits. There was also mutton jerky, but Quaeryt had lost his taste for dried mutton that was hard enough to break teeth years before.
As the twilight deepened, and a warm light breeze carried the scent of dry grasses out of the south, Skarpa turned to the scholar. “We’ll be the early guard on the trail from the south. Fifth Battalion will hold the trail on the north side of camp. The hill types won’t come from there or from the south trail. The commander and the governor both know it. Oh … they might send a patrol or a company that way to mislead us, but they’ll never attack us where we’re waiting, not at night. The governor will make sure the hill forces know where we’re posted.”
“They’ll come out of the trees when we’re least likely to be ready?”
“They know the usual watch schedules, and they’ll attack during the time guards and standby forces are being changed.” Skarpa smiled coldly.
“Somehow … I think you’ll be ready.”
“We’ll see. They may decide not to attack. I’m wagering they will.”
“Why?”
“Just a feeling I have.” The major paused, then asked, “Do you want to join Meinyt or one of the other captains or undercaptains?”
Quaeryt understood his only choice was which company he would join. “Meinyt … if he’s willing.”
“He’d hoped you would. He says you bring good luck.”
Quaeryt winced.
“Oh … I brought something for you. It’s a little old, but it was the best I could do. I figured since you spent time before the mast, it would work better for you than a sabre.” Skarpa grinned as he extended a half-staff. “Might be harder on horseback, but I couldn’t stand the thought of you going into battle without some sort of weapon.” The major laughed. “I know you’re just supposed to observe, but it’s hard just to observe when you’re in the middle of a fight.”
Quaeryt had already figured that out. He took the staff. Old as it might have been, it was polished and iron-tipped on both ends, with two iron bands around the wood equidistant from the ends and from each other. It was finely balanced, possibly the best half-staff he’d ever held. “This is a good staff. Where did you get it?”
“I sent one of the rankers to the armory when I got word from Commander Myskyl that you’d be accompanying Sixth Battalion.”
“Thank you.”
“There’s one other thing.” Skarpa tossed something like a ball to Quaeryt.
The scholar caught the ball, only to discover that it consisted of wound leather thongs.
“Those are used to hold an ensign. They should hold that staff. Fasten them to the saddle.”
Quaeryt nodded.
Skarpa nodded. “Best you find Meinyt.”
Quaeryt walked from where he left the mare tethered with the other mounts of the Sixth Battalion officers and made his way toward Meinyt, still carrying the half-staff. He waited until the captain finished talking to a squad leader, then stepped forward.
“You’ve decided to join us, I see,” offered the older captain. “Don’t know as that staff will help much.”
“It’s the only weapon I know how to use, and I don’t have much experience-except at getting wounded. I need to be around someone who does.”
“You’re better than some.”
Quaeryt didn’t know what to say to that. So he said nothing.
“We’ve got about a glass before we take the guard on the south trail. We’ll have duty for two glasses. Figure they’ll attack sometime after the first glass of duty. It will be full dark then. That’s when we’d usually change companies.”
“Is that duty mounted?”
Meinyt shook his head. “Scouts and outriders will be mounted. They can see better from the saddle. They’re also better targets, but there’s not much moonlight tonight, just a bit from bloody Erion. All the squads will be afoot by their mounts, ready to ride.”
Quaeryt nodded. “What did you think of that attack on the wagons?”
“That was about what I’d have expected. The last two wagons usually have stuff we can do without if we need to.”
“They don’t know that?”
“They’ve never had to fight far from home.”
While Quaeryt hadn’t thought about that, it certainly made sense. He stepped back as another squad leader approached. The last thing he wanted to do was interfere with Meinyt. Besides, he had to figure out how to attach the lance or ensign holder to the saddle.
Just as Meinyt had predicted, some two glasses later, as Quaeryt waited beside the captain, a warning echoed across the still-warmish evening.
“Attackers on the way!”
“Company mount! Form up! Double interval!”
Quaeryt wasn’t the very last one in the saddle, but he was far from the first. He even managed to get his staff in the leathers.
“Company! Forward! Fast walk!”
Quaeryt raised full shields and kept the mare close to the captain.
The faintest of rustling sounds seeped through the darkness, and a flight of arrows-but no quarrels from what Quaeryt could see-sleeted down into the company. Most missed. None struck his shields, but he heard one moan from a ranker somewhere to his left.
“Stand fast!” ordered Meinyt.
Even before his command was finished, Quaeryt heard hoofs galloping southward, diminishing into the night. From the sound, he doubted that the attackers had numbered more than a squad or two.
He glanced around, his eyes moving to the west, noting that Meinyt was already watching, although the captain kept looking back to the south.
Then, little more than a half mille away, from the slight bulge in the trees, black figures emerged, riding dark mounts through grasses close to waist-high, so that they looked very low to the ground-or grass. In the faint reddish light of Erion-less than a quarter full-they were more like moving shadows.
“Shouldn’t we do something?” asked Quaeryt in a low voice.
“Watch.”
As the wave of dark riders neared the camp perimeter, abruptly shadow after shadow halted, then fell, and the screams of injured and dying horses began to fill the night, followed by yells and the sounds of weapons and men using them. Quaeryt couldn’t see what was happening, other than mounts and men going down.
In a fraction of a quint, only a comparative handful of the shadows turned and sprinted back toward the cover of the trees. The rest soon vanished into the grass.
“The governor figured they’d do that,” murmured Meinyt. “He had Fourth Battalion there with pikes, hidden in the grass. The pikes were all blackened. The hill riders never saw them, not until their mounts started getting spitted. Seventh Battalion is set up the same way on the northwest side of camp.”
“He planned that all along.”
“Knowing him, most likely.”
“Will they attack again … tonight?”
“Who knows what the hill types will do? I wouldn’t think so, but you never know. In the meantime, you might try to get some sleep. Rest, anyway. Tomorrow will be worse when we have to cross the ridge.”
Quaeryt felt he’d be fortunate even to doze.
78
Surprisingly, Quaeryt did sleep for several glasses on Meredi night, despite worries about another attack … and having only a thin blanket between him and the ground. If an attack happened, he didn’t hear it. No one said anything about one when he rose in the pale gray light before sunrise, stiff and sore, enough so that he was limping more than usual when he went to check on the mare before eating more biscuits and cheese.
“You did sleep, I see,” offered Meinyt.
“Enough that I’m sore all over.” Quaeryt took another bite of the hard biscuit, followed by a modest swallow from his water bottle, because otherwise he wou
ldn’t be able to eat the biscuit.
“Better sore than tired.”
“What happens next?”
“We either go north or south or follow the road until we get attacked.”
Quaeryt knew that much already. He ate another biscuit.
“North would take us through a swamp,” Meinyt finally said. “South would take another day. Then, when we got back to the main road again, we’d still have to worry about being attacked from both sides. I’d get your gear rolled up. Whatever the governor has in mind, it won’t be long. I’m about to find out.” With a wry smile, he hurried off.
Quaeryt barely had taken out the overlarge green uniform shirt and then finished fastening his gear behind his saddle, and readjusting the leathers to hold the staff, when Meinyt returned from wherever he’d been.
“The rebels hold the heights on the last ridge on the east side of the valley. We’re to circle to the south, just far enough to get out of sight, and then ride back up through the trees. It’s a gradual rise. The trees aren’t that close together.”
“We? All of Sixth Battalion?”
“And Fourth. The rest of the regiment will follow the road. The governor’s keeping it simple. We’re to keep them from retreating south.”
“And they’ll end up backed up against the swamp if they go north?”
Meinyt nodded.
“They can still go west.” Quaeryt pulled the uniform shirt on over his browns, glad that the morning was comparatively cool.
“They could … and there’s enough ground between the eastern hills and Boralieu that they might escape … but that would also give Commander Zirkyl a chance to strike them on one side while we press the other. Or something like that. The governor’s the one who makes those decisions, not me. We need to mount up.” Meinyt paused. “Good idea with the shirt.”
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