Imager’s Battalion ip-6

by L. E. Modesitt

  “Now you-”

  “Enough,” snapped Quaeryt, image-projecting absolute authority into Threkhyl, enough that the big man stepped back. “It’s not a matter of strength alone. It took me years to develop the abilities I have. I’ve been working with you barely more than a month, and every one of you can do far more than you could when I started. You’ll be able to do more than that before long. I’m not trying to hold anyone back. If I were, why would I have worked so hard with all of you?” He looked hard at Threkhyl.

  For once, the ginger-bearded undercaptain had no answer.

  “We’re all in this together. I’ve made mistakes. So have you, but the better all of you become, the greater the chances for all of us to come through this in a far better position than you ever thought possible.” Quaeryt caught the slightest frown from Voltyr, but that vanished quickly.

  “How’s that?” demanded Threkhyl.

  “It’s simple, if you think about it. Together … we destroyed an entire Bovarian army. Alone … could any of us survive against that large a force? Even if we could, what power would we have to ask for and get better treatment once the war is over?” Quaeryt smiled wryly. “That is … if you all work and become better imagers.” After just the slightest pause, he went on. “You all can think about it while Shaelyt and I are out with the recon company. You’re in charge, Undercaptain Voltyr.” Quaeryt motioned for Shaelyt to join him, then began to walk toward where their mounts were tethered.

  Shaelyt had to hurry to catch up to Quaeryt. Once the undercaptain did, he took several more steps before he cleared his throat. Loudly.

  “Yes?” asked Quaeryt.

  “Sir … you most likely know this … but Threkhyl … he sees things … ah…”

  “Directly. In terms of brute force and what happens right now? Is that what you meant?”

  “Yes, sir. He only listens to you because you’re stronger, and he knows he can’t hurt you.”

  “He does have a way of showing that.” Quaeryt managed to keep his voice mildly sardonic.

  “If he learns more … sir?”

  “I might be wrong, Shaelyt, but … he might have trouble learning what you and Voltyr do. He already thinks he knows all he needs to know.”

  “But … if he does?”

  “You and Voltyr will just have to learn more, won’t you?” Quaeryt turned his head directly toward the young undercaptain and grinned.

  After a moment Shaelyt smiled back.

  After they saddled their mounts, as they rode toward the river, Quaeryt glanced back and was glad to see the other three imagers were paying attention to Voltyr. Lhastyn was just leaving the headquarters house when Quaeryt and Shaelyt reined up at the front of third company.

  The captain mounted, then rode over and joined Quaeryt and Shaelyt. “Sir, welcome to third company.”

  “Thank you, Captain. We’re just here as observers. We need to see where the imagers might be of the greatest use in any attack on Ralaes.”

  “We’re glad to have you. The things your men have done have made matters easier for us.”

  “That’s the idea.” Even if sometimes they don’t work out as they should.

  As Quaeryt rode beside Captain Lhastyn, within a few hundred yards of leaving the hamlet, he could see that the ground to the south of the river road was getting lower with each yard he rode so that after less than a mille the fields and tended groves had given way to a dense forest so thick that even in the bright morning sunlight, the shadows beneath the trees resembled twilight. The forest appeared to Quaeryt as a jungle with massive live oaks forming a high canopy over smaller trees between and beneath. Thorn vines and thick underbrush formed an intertwined barrier, totally unsuited to any form of mounted advance.

  Quaeryt could hear various birdcalls, if muted, from the forest, suggesting a lack of human activity within the green walls, and neither he nor Lhastyn’s scouts, riding along the edge of the forest, could see any footprints or hoofprints coming to or from the woods, although there were more than a few hoofprints on the road itself.

  “They’ve had their scouts out,” observed Lhastyn.

  “Just as we have,” replied Quaeryt.

  Before long, one of the outriders turned his mount and rode back to report, easing his mount in beside Lhastyn. “Sir, once you get to the middle of the flat there, you can see pretty much the whole approach. They can see you as well, because there’s no cover, except on the south side, real close to the trees.”

  Lhastyn looked to Quaeryt.

  “Why don’t you and I ride up on the south shoulder and take a look?” suggested Quaeryt. “Even if they see two riders, they likely won’t send anyone out. If they do, they’ll send fewer than if they saw an entire company.”

  Lhastyn nodded slowly, almost doubtfully.

  “Undercaptain Shaelyt is most adept with smoke, pepper, and iron darts, if necessary,” Quaeryt added, urging the mare forward, if gently.

  Lhastyn turned in the saddle. “Heorot … you know what to do if you’re attacked.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Quaeryt didn’t say anything more, but strengthened his shields as he edged the mare as close as he could to the woods while still leaving a clear path forward. He could sense the captain’s unease and almost smiled. He did listen for the telltale rustle of leaves or branches, but heard none, only the breathing of the two horses, and the whisper of their legs swishing through the grass that grew between the road’s shoulder and the trees. As soon as Quaeryt could make out the entire scope of the approach to the town, he reined up.

  At first glance the Bovarian emplacements and revetments appeared almost randomly placed across the wide and low slope that led up to the town. On closer study, Quaeryt realized that they had been placed to block the more gradual approaches. Two of the larger revetments flanked the river road, leaving only the width of the road open.

  The revetments had also been created hurriedly, since all were earthworks. That suggested that the Bovarians had decided recently to make a stand at Ralaes. In order to slow or halt us so that they can deploy more troops against our northern forces? He also couldn’t tell whether the defenders had catapults for Antiagon Fire, but he had no doubts that there were archers behind at least some of those earthworks.

  “They have enough trenches there to protect three or four regiments,” observed Lhastyn, looking up from the paper on which he was sketching out the positions of the revetments.

  “If all of them contain troopers,” said Quaeryt, “then they might have even more, if they hold their reserves over the crest of the hill.”

  “They’ll keep their mounted forces back.”

  “That’s another question. How many mounted battalions do they have? According to what I’ve studied and what the marshal has conveyed to Commander Skarpa, the Bovarians have far more foot soldiers, as many as half their forces, if not more. I wouldn’t be surprised if they lost a great portion of their cavalry at Ferravyl.”

  “All those foot types seem odd to me,” murmured Lhastyn.

  “We’re the odd ones,” replied Quaeryt. “Most rulers have armies with far greater proportions of foot troopers. It’s less costly, and the logistics are simpler.” He wasn’t about to explain the circumstances of history and geography that had led to the Telaryn reliance on mounted troops.

  For the next half quint, Lhastyn sketched and Quaeryt studied. Then, Quaeryt noted some flag waving, and before long a trooper hurried from a trench partway up the slope and began to run uphill across the grass that bore a myriad of recent gouges.

  “I think we, or the company, have been noticed,” said Quaeryt.

  “We’ll see if they send someone down to chase us off,” said Lhastyn cheerfully.

  “What are your orders in that event?” asked Quaeryt.

  “To get as much information as possible and to avoid unnecessary losses.”

  “Have you finished sketching things out?”

  “I’m close.”

  “As
soon as you finish, it might be a good idea for us to withdraw.” Quaeryt glanced at the Bovarian defenses again.

  “I won’t be that long.” Lhastyn kept sketching. “I want to get this right.”

  Before that long, while Lhastyn was still sketching, Quaeryt heard a sound like drumming, but lower. “Horses! That sounds like more than a company.”

  “Time for us to go.” Lhastyn folded his papers and slipped them inside his tunic, then turned his mount.

  Quaeryt glanced back as they rode toward third company. So did Lhastyn. The column of riders pouring over the rise in the road above and to the north of the revetments looked to be far more than a company, possibly even a battalion.

  “You lead the company back,” said Quaeryt. “Undercaptain Shaelyt and I will ride with the rear.”

  “Sir?”

  “We can create some delays.”

  “But, sir-”

  “Go!” snapped Quaeryt. “Now!” As he neared Shaelyt, he angled the mare so that he was riding almost stirrup to stirrup with the undercaptain. “We have a job to do.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “When we get just past the narrow part of the road up ahead at the end of the flat, when it starts to rise, we’re going to stop for a moment. I want you to image smoke across the road where it’s the narrowest. It doesn’t have to be acrid, but make it as thick as you can.”

  “Yes, sir. Won’t they ride through it?”

  “I’m certain that they will.”

  After they passed the narrow point at the bottom of the slope heading eastward to the Telaryn encampment and had ridden another fifty yards or so, Quaeryt reined up and turned the mare. As he did so, he raised a concealment shield to cover just him and Shaelyt. “Wait. Don’t image the smoke until I tell you to, and if you can, I’d like you to image it as if it were a fog drifting out of the forest.”

  “Yes, sir. I think I can do that.”

  Quaeryt continued to watch as the Bovarian column thundered toward them.

  “They don’t see us, do they?” asked Shaelyt.

  “No. It’s another kind of shield.”

  When the Bovarians were roughly a hundred yards from the narrow spot in the road, Quaeryt said, “Start imaging now.”

  Shaelyt’s smoky fog appeared and began to drift quickly across the road, but the pursuing Bovarians did not slow down. Quaeryt hadn’t thought they would, not when they could see third company riding up the long slope, with no other forces around.

  Quaeryt waited until the Bovarians were almost upon the smoke, then concentrated, first on creating an image of the forest stretching across the road behind the thick smoke that Shaelyt had imaged across, and then building a solid shield across the road and the shoulder, from the edge of the forest on the south to the heavier chest-high undergrowth on the north side of the river road. He anchored the shields to the ground itself and waited.

  In moments, he felt the impact on his shields, shivering him despite the anchoring. He watched as close to an entire squad piled into the unseen barrier, with horses screaming and men yelling. Flashes of light flared across his eyes, and he had to squint to see clearly.

  “Time for us to go, Shaelyt.” Quaeryt turned the mare, noting that the undercaptain did so immediately as well.

  Still holding the shields and the forest image, Quaeryt glanced back over his shoulder, but the Bovarians were more concerned about their casualties than in further pursuit. He dropped the image and the shield barrier, but continued to hold the small concealment shield.

  They rode for several moments before Shaelyt asked, “Sir … why didn’t you image stone trees or something like that?”

  “Because I not only wanted to stop them, I wanted them surprised and confused, and I’m hoping that when the survivors report back that will create doubts and concerns. If they found stone trees, they’d immediately suspect imagers. This way…” Quaeryt shrugged. “When someone can’t explain something, that’s always to our advantage.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  Quaeryt glanced back again, but the Bovarians were still not pursuing. “We need to catch up to the company before Captain Lhastyn gets too worried that he’s lost a subcommander.”

  As he looked ahead, he could see that fourth squad was waiting near the top of the next rise. He found himself swaying slightly in the saddle. Clearly, he hadn’t recovered as fully as he thought he had from dealing with the musketeers. Or … there wasn’t a source of heat to defray the cost on you … Not one you wanted to use …

  “Sir…”

  “I’ll be all right…” In a while. Quaeryt reached for the bottle of watered lager. That would help.

  As he and Shaelyt continued to ride away from the confused mass of Bovarian men and mounts, something else nagged at him, something he’d noted, something that was so obvious, yet couldn’t remember at the moment. Quaeryt shook his head, hoping it would come to him while it still mattered.

  36

  By the time Quaeryt and Shaelyt returned to the hamlet serving as their base, it was still slightly more than a glass before midday. Captain Lhastyn hadn’t even asked about how they had halted the pursuing Bovarians … and that bothered Quaeryt in a different way.

  The last thing we need is junior officers-or senior officers-expecting imagers to come up with near-impossible ways of dealing with the Bovarians. Except he realized that the more successful he and the imagers were and the more word passed through the companies, the greater the expectations would be.

  Quaeryt reined up just short of the tie line that held the other imagers’ mounts, then dismounted, rather gingerly, and unsaddled the mare. Then he turned to Shaelyt.

  “If you’d give Voltyr a hand … I’m going to meet with Commander Skarpa.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Quaeryt nodded, then walked back to the cot where Skarpa was talking to Captain Lhastyn and asking questions about the sketches the captain was explaining. He eased up the steps and onto the covered porch, but stood back and let the captain continue his explanations.

  “… could hold more than four regiments … sent a battalion of cavalry after us … Subcommander Quaeryt’s imager was able to create a diversion that halted them … suggests that they also have a large number of cavalry companies…”

  After a time Skarpa nodded. “Thank you, Captain. I’ll keep those sketches. I do appreciate the detail you’ve provided.” He rose from the table.

  Lhastyn also rose and nodded. “If that will be all, sir…?”

  “For now. After I discuss matters with the subcommanders, I’ll let you know what else we need to find out.” As Lhastyn left the porch, Skarpa motioned for Quaeryt to take one of the two stools, then seated himself again.

  Quaeryt sat, wishing the stool was neither so low nor so hard, given the bruises on his body and his general stiffness and soreness.

  “I’ve gone over what Lhastyn saw and sketched.” Skarpa raised his eyebrows questioningly. “You heard the last of it.”

  Quaeryt nodded. He really didn’t know exactly what to say.

  “Go on,” prodded the commander.

  “I’d guess that they have more troopers around Ralaes than we anticipated.”

  “Because they came after you so quickly?”

  “Because they chased us so quickly and in such numbers.”

  “That would be my first guess.” Skarpa smiled crookedly. “Then again, that could be exactly what they want us to think. Lhastyn didn’t see that many troops in all those revetments. It was almost as though they didn’t want you to see that.”

  “They might have sent that battalion out to buy time.”

  “That’s possible.”

  “Still … the musketeers were in a great hurry to return,” mused Quaeryt.

  “Maybe we should keep testing them for a day or so. What do you think?”

  “Do you know where Marshal Deucalon’s forces are?”

  “Just about opposite Caernyn, I’d judge.”

  “Thre
e days before they get to a point across the river from us?”

  “More like four, unless Deucalon moves faster.”

  “It wouldn’t hurt to spend this afternoon or tomorrow testing, then.”

  “We’ll start early tomorrow. We’ll have more sentries out tonight, and several companies waiting.” Skarpa paused. “What exactly did you and the undercaptain do to stop that battalion?”

  “Used the road, the forest, and imaging to block them and create a mess…” Quaeryt went on to explain in more detail, although he was a bit vague about who had done what.

  “You still don’t like to admit what you do,” observed Skarpa when Quaeryt finished.

  “No … and I still think it’s better that way.”

  The commander nodded. “Have to say you’re probably right. We’ll try to test them tomorrow without imagers.”

  Quaeryt looked directly at Skarpa.

  “You’re still moving as if you hurt, and I’d rather have you in better health when we actually have to take the town. Go deal with your imagers.” Skarpa gestured.

  Quaeryt couldn’t argue with Skarpa’s observation. He smiled and stood.

  “See me early tomorrow.”

  “Yes, sir.” Quaeryt turned and headed down the steps.

  When he reached the cot where the imagers were staying, he saw Threkhyl sitting on the shaded side of the steps to the small cot. The undercaptain’s face was pale, and his thinning ginger hair was soaked with sweat. Voltyr stood at the foot of the steps, a concerned expression on his face. Shaelyt, Desyrk, and Baelthm stood on the narrow porch.

  “What happened?” asked Quaeryt.

  “I was trying to give Threkhyl instructions on shields,” explained Voltyr. “He created one … and then…”

  “Better than anything you could do,” muttered Threkhyl in a voice that might have been belligerent had it been louder, rather than low and raspy.

  “Then what?” Quaeryt asked Voltyr.

  “He started turning red, and then he fell over. We couldn’t get to him until his eyes closed. His shield kept us away.”