by Choi, Bryan
“Not so fast,” Hecaton said. “I have a plan to repulse the Imperium once and for all. To even take out their capital and end the threat permanently.”
“And how would you even begin to do that? Do you plan to set my city ablaze with tires like His Holiness did to Berlin?”
Hecaton erupted with a full-throated laugh. “Nothing so comedic. My methods are more mundane. Now, have you ever heard of the God Hand?”
7
The Fifty-Fourth Suppression Army of the Imperium began its march from Lhasa in the foggy darkness before sunrise. Though a mismatched and barely drilled force with only twelve hundred soldiers at most, they were the discipline of the padishah himself. And they were not to return home until either the Mandate of Heaven was wiped from the face of the earth or until they were all dead.
“So how about the fifty-three before us?” Draco asked Elsa, whom he rode next to. “I mean, were they larger? Small like this?”
“Well, the largest one ever was probably the Twentieth, which went out to crush the Sons of Qin three-hundred-odd years ago. I think it was close to two million on our side.”
“How many did the Sons of Qin have?”
“Double that. It was a big deal, that rebellion. Nearly half of the eastern territories sided with them, all trying to reclaim the glory of their ancient times. But we won, although at great cost. One of the padishah even died during the last battle, too. They still teach about it in the schools.”
“Six million fighters going at it.” Draco whistled. “Boggles the mind.”
“And in those days, they still used tamed chimerae and relics from the Fall. You had these gigantic colossi totally beating the shit out of each other and falling over and crushing people like ants! And metal birds swooshing around breathing fire and farting cannonballs.”
Draco gaped. “Where can I read about that?”
“There’s books and stuff about it in Sevastopol. I’ll take you to the library sometime.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” Draco said, and extended his hand. Elsa clasped it, and they shook.
“Well,” Karma said as he watched from behind, “I never thought old Draco would find someone to nerd out with like that. Elsa didn’t strike me as the type, either. I imagined someone more reticent. Or just plain wacko.”
“Bunch of perverts is what they are,” Hadassah said. She tugged at her horse’s reins to keep it from veering off to sniff and bite a mare alongside it.
The army marched as a column of horse, leading a snaking way through the cloudless Lhasa Valley. Behind the horses marched the heavy infantry and skirmishers, adept at the use of bows and antique muskets. Finally, the artillery consisted of three trebuchets and a pair of bronze mortars manned by a merchant named Fang, his wife Borte, and their many children.
Taki rode silently at the rear. Though doing so meant coughing on the dust raised by an entire army and plodding through the truly monstrous amount of horse and human droppings left in its wake, he was far from the boisterousness of the vanguard.
His plan had been successful, and he had earned praise and esteem not only from Lotte but also from the officers in Alfa. And yet his stomach churned and his hands sweated uncontrollably. Because of her, of course. The memory of Enilna’s scent and, more so, her touch, lingered on his lips no matter how much he tried to rub it away. It was a silly thing to worry about, he knew. He was riding into battle, where his heart’s panging was the least important thing in the world.
In a stroke of bad luck, Enilna was in the rear guard, too. Taki had noticed earlier and had attempted to blend in with a group of lancers. So far, the plan to avoid her seemed to be working.
“My favorite farmer!” Enilna cantered up alongside him, clearly enjoying herself.
Fuck. He cringed and made no effort to hide it.
She giggled. “Were you hiding from me?”
“No.”
“Whatever, I forgive you. Anyway, get this. Old Fang over there has been with Borte for thirty years, and they have so many kids that they can’t actually remember the names really quickly. So instead, they just call the kids by number. Oldest son Bo’er is Fang One, youngest daughter Xixi is Fang Twelve. It all makes sense now, because when I was in Sevastopol, there was this other kadet named Fang Fifteen and for the longest time I thought he was just a fantasist trying to look cool.”
Taki’s jaw hung open slightly, and he forced himself to look ahead.
“Anyone there?” she said, and flicked him on the forehead.
Taki winced and swatted her away.
“It lives!” she gasped.
“God rot you, I’ll just say it!” Taki said. “Why did you kiss me back in the prison?”
At this, the lancers started to chuckle. Taki glared back at them, and they slowed their horses while smirking. Surprisingly, Enilna reddened.
“Ah, that. You know…” She seemed to stumble over her words. “It was to shut you up. I heard that it’s a great way to ‘terminate thoughts,’ as Irulan puts it. She uses it on her lover when he’s being unreasonable.”
Hearing her words only made Taki grimace. He spurred his horse into a canter and barged up the column. Enilna let out an exasperated breath and looked to the sky.
“We’ll support you, sister!” whooped one of the lancers. “You and that stupid kid look cute together!”
She laughed and narrowly avoided a clump of manure on the road.
By the time Taki wended his way through the unruly stream of part-time warriors to rejoin the vanguard, the sun slumped low in the west. Riding—even at a slow and comparatively leisurely pace—was still a tiring affair. Secretly, he hoped that there would be time to camp, sleep, and eat. When he drew closer to Lotte and Aslatiel, however, he realized that such pleasantries would not come to pass.
“The bastards were ready for us all along.” Lotte passed the spyglass to Aslatiel, who peered through them at the valley floor in the distance. The bone-white fortress was perched on a colossal spur of brownish-gray rock, only accessible via a steeply inclined path. Arrayed in front of Gyantse Dzong stood the army of the Mandate of Heaven.
“It’s to be expected,” Aslatiel said. “Though I’m surprised how fast the escapees made it across the steppes. We’ll have to fight on their terms. We can still win.”
Taki looked out at the opposing army and silently cursed to himself. Who had been to blame for the smugglers’ escape in the first place? Had he left a weapon too close to the cells? Or somehow misplaced a key? I only gave that man some pocha for his ailing friend.
Lotte ground her teeth. “More than we estimated. Lots of infantry arranged in forward and reserve squares, a good amount of dismounted archers and riflemen, and the rest light cavalry. Nothing heavy.”
“Suspicious,” Aslatiel said. “Where’s the artillery?”
“I’ll bet they’re up in the fortress. But you can’t take much more than light guns up that path, so we should be able to withstand a barrage. Still, they outrange our own cannon a fair bit. We’ll have ours stay back and engage only enemy trying to flank our main force. Harass their infantry with horse archers and dragoons. Turn our heavies on theirs.” Lotte turned her head to face the woman next to her, who also surveyed the scene through a spyglass. “Rector, you should probably remain here with the supply train.”
“Absolutely not,” Rinchen said with a glare. “I’m in charge of the garrison. What sort of unworthy leader hides in safety while her men are cut down defending her ideals? I won’t be a burden, if you’re worried about that.” She patted a pistol at her waist and the steel cuirass covering her torso. Four burly, well-armed men hoisted her sedan chair until she was slightly over Aslatiel’s eye level. “These are my nephews. They wished to support their aunty in her fight. If we die, it’s going to be glorious.”
“I can’t disagree with you, Rector,” Aslatiel said. “We should make ready for battle. Have your line officers ready the flanks and wings. Tirefire will man the center.”
�
��Always,” Lotte said.
“Then I’ll be off with the cavalry,” Aslatiel said, and rode down the path to rejoin the columns.
Lotte waved to Taki. “Natalis, where were you all this time?”
“Manning the rear guard, Captain.”
“I hope you weren’t back there flirting with the new girl. Mikkelsen told me you two were petting instead of watching the smugglers.”
Taki’s cheeks reddened. “I wasn’t doing anything with her! And Dassa needs to mind her tongue.”
“I don’t blame you, Natalis. The girl’s young and pretty, but mind you that we’re at war.”
There was no arguing with his captain, who clearly seemed to enjoy piling on the ridicule, along with Hadassah and everyone else. Why did I stick with this lot, anyway? He swallowed his pride and nodded.
“You haven’t been in a fight like this before, have you?” Lotte said.
“No.”
“This won’t be like the times we faced Sir Aslatiel and his men. You survive by staying close and covering your neighbor’s flanks. In turn, she will cover yours. If she dies, you die. And try not to brain yourself on a pike shaft. It’s really embarrassing when that happens.”
“Sounds like death can come from anywhere,” Taki said, and chewed on a cuticle.
“Aye, it can. And that’s what makes an open battle so damned fun.”
“That doesn’t sound fun at all!”
Lotte laughed and set her horse to trot. “Oh, but it is! Otherwise, why would we do it all the time?”
Within two bells, the Fifty-Fourth Suppression Army started its advance. From behind the Mandate lines, a low, mournful horn sounded, and their center started to close the gap. Well-clad in half plate and helmets and wielding axes and picks, they swaggered forward, almost jauntily, and drew to fifty meters. With another note of the horn, the men charged.
Taki tried to slow his breathing as the malevolent human wave edged closer. He shifted his musket on its rest and aligned the smoothness of the top of its barrel with the torsos of the charging rebels. Unnervingly, the musket had no sights to speak of, unlike the pistol holstered at his side. But at this range, perhaps precision wasn’t needed as much as an overwhelming hail of lead. Next to him, Draco and Karma dug their heels in and braced their longarms. They stood at the head of a tercio—a square of pikemen fronted by gunners who also served as skirmishers able to blend in and out of the tight-knit spear formation.
“Fire!” Lotte shouted.
Taki squeezed his crude, curved metal trigger. A terrific chorus of gunpowder erupted almost in unison, and the first line of enemy fell convulsing to the ground.
Taki scooted back to allow the second line to step forward and fire. He shifted his musket off its rest and set its butt on the ground before slamming its ramrod down the barrel several times. This served to extract the cartridge casing stuck in the breech, or the next round wouldn’t fire. Cursing the inefficiency of the whole process, Taki plucked the burnt casing off the end of the rod and then slipped a fresh round primer-first into the muzzle. With another push of the ramrod, the musket was ready to fire again. In the time he’d taken to reload, he could have fired off an entire magazine from his Temple gun. But Lotte had warned him specifically to conserve his ammunition. Open-field warfare was a trial of endurance, not strength.
The gap closed to twenty meters. Taki scooted forward, braced his musket, and let off a hurried potshot that felled no one.
“Muskets withdraw! Center to the ready,” Lotte commanded.
Around Taki’s head, pike shafts descended in synchrony and, to his relief, did not bash him or his companions in the skull. The charging rebels, flush with rage and hormones, could not stop their momentum. They hit the bristling mass of spear points and died to the sound of crunching metal and squelching flesh.
Engaging the enemy at this distance with a musket was futile now. Taki turned and passed his weapon to a man behind him and drew his saber. Rebels ducked under the row of pikes and slashed at the shafts overhead.
Lotte slapped Taki on the back. “Counter them!”
Taki let out a shout and shuffled forth with his blades at the ready. He swatted a sword thrust away and slashed his saber at his attacker to open the man’s arm near the shoulder. The rebel howled and tried to shoot him with a muzzle-loading handgun, only to be run through.
To Taki’s left, Draco crouched and darted toward the fighters, tackled one of them to the ground, and stabbed the man in the neck. Karma followed and sunk his short swords into a pair of chests. Screams gave way to gurgles and finally silence. Overhead, the pikes continued to thrust and clank against armor and squish against flesh.
“Give me some cover,” Taki shouted to his companions. “I’ll blast ‘em all!”
He knelt and placed his saber on the ground and then closed his eyes. Power welled within, and he channeled it to his hands. Then, he pointed his palms at the rebels and let the surging energy loose. A concussive blast of freezing air lanced forward and blew a channel in the middle of the packed enemy. Shattered men, armor, and weapons flew through the air, and a cry of panic sounded from the line.
In an instant, the attackers wavered and fled. Taki let out a breath from his nostrils, picked his saber up, and stood. As he did, his vision blurred, and he dug his point into the ground just in time to avoid falling. Elsa’s words about getting winded easily in these lands came back to him now.
“Ha! That’s our wizard for you!” Draco said, and clapped Taki on the back.
“I’m the best wizard,” Taki said, and wiped away a line of spittle from his face. He stared at the carnage before him and whistled. Despite his earlier misgivings, Lotte’s words from earlier sounded truer than before. Repulsing the charge had been unexpectedly exciting—even enjoyable.
“Give us back our daughters, you sons of bitches!” rang out from the left and then gave way to the thunderous hoofbeats of a cavalry charge.
Taki spun and was nearly knocked aside by the horses. Behind him, Lotte cursed and fired her gun in the air in a vain attempt to signal a halt.
“What the hell?” he shouted.
“Our flankers are charging without orders!” Lotte said. “Hold the line, damn you!”
The remnants of the rebel charge dissolved under an onslaught of arrows and lances.
“Wait,” Taki said. “Do you suppose it’ll work? Should we capitalize on the momentum?”
Lotte shook her head.
From the top of the outer wall of Gyantse Dzong came flashes and puffs of smoke. The wayward riders and their horses were tossed in the air as cannonballs skipped along the ground. Horses fell apart, and human torsos popped like overripe grapes between teeth. The survivors of the rashly executed charge stopped in their tracks and disappeared under a river of rebel lancers.
“Shit. What now?” Taki asked. White smoke erupted from the walls of the fortress.
“They’re shelling us! Get down!” Lotte bellowed.
A ball whizzed by Taki’s head and smashed into the pikemen behind him. Men spun in the air like figurines batted aside by a child. Other balls hit on both sides, blowing torsos apart and taking off limbs as they bounced. The phalanx reeled. More than anything, Taki wished to turn tail and run, but the sight of his captain standing firm in the face of pounds of lead slinging along shamed him into stillness.
Hadassah was the first to notice the enemy cavalry stirring. “Horsemen!”
Lotte waved her baton. “Make square!”
With surprising deftness, the pikemen rushed to form a hollow square with each side three deep. Spearheads poked out from all sides, ready to deter any cavalrymen foolish enough to charge headlong into the mass. The rebel lancers made a disciplined split before they would have hit the front row of spears. They circled the square closely and threw lances or fired short muskets into the gaps.
Taki picked up a musket and fired at one of the lancers. The man slumped and slid from his horse, but another rider managed to swat the pikehe
ads aside and bore down to spit Taki through the chest. He tried to swing the barrel around to fire, only to remember that it could not.
Lotte whirled and buried her flamberge deep into the charger’s chest, and the lance went wide. The beast groaned and went down but wrenched the massive sword away. She drew a side sword and stuck the struggling rider in the throat.
“Thanks, Captain,” Taki said, and tossed the musket aside in disgust. He wiped the grime from his brow and drew his pistol. It was no longer time to skimp on ammunition, especially because the ground had started to shake. To the front of the tercio was an enemy pike phalanx with its points lowered. They inched forward as a gut-churning wall of sharpened steel.
“A push! Make a push!” Lotte shouted. Pike shafts leveled themselves around her to face the oncoming tide of iron points. She dropped her shield and drew a main gauche.
The two phalanxes edged delicately toward each other in a grim mirror of courtship. Opposing spear tips glided and clinked against each other for a brief moment and then thrust in earnest.
Taki clenched his jaw and drove forward again with his companions in tow. He hacked and stabbed and shot at rebels who tried to split him with axes and impale him with rapiers. Pikemen on both sides dropped broken shafts and drew muzzle-loading pistols. A ball smashed against the side of Taki’s helm but did not penetrate it. The divot made by the bullet pressed uncomfortably into his scalp, so he tore the helm off and tossed it into an attacker’s face to smash the man’s nose.
In the corner of his vision, he saw the rector take a round to her chest. Rinchen gasped and spat crimson and thick pink chunks. A returning horseman trampled one of her nephews and tried to lance her, but she fired a round into his face, and he fell from his mount. Taki wanted to help but knew he could not. A Mandate fighter leapt at him while he was distracted and almost knocked the wind from him. They rolled for a while before Taki managed to wedge the muzzle of his Herstal against his enemy’s gut and pull the trigger. The rebel rattled and croaked in Taki’s ear for a few moments and then moved no more.