Robert Adams - Champion of the Last Battle

“Bad enough, old friend, and worse than that. Every single regiment lost men last night, killed or wounded. The surgeons and Dr. Arenstein are clearly like to drop of exhaustion, so long and hard have they been at it. At least we still have the most of our supplies, and we can thank the Kuhmbuhluhner who cast the load of stones on the supply tents, early on, for that fact; the barrels at the tiptops of the stacks were holed, and with everything soaked with beer and vinegar and brine, the fires never had a chance to get at anything more substantial than the tents.

“Am I rambling? It seems that I am, old friend. Blame it on lack of sleep and overmuch care. Whilst the Kuhmbuhluhner engines were wreaking their worst—or should I say their best?—on us, here, it seems that a sally was made from somewhere—though not out of the main gate and down the slopes, for the Ganik rifleman still was in his hole and he swears that no single man came out from the city in the normal way. I’ve had the idea all along that there must be two or three other means of egress from New Kuhmbuhluhnburk, and if only we could find even one of them ... But that’s neither here nor there and I’m rambling again. The bastards slit the throats of all the pikemen on sentry duty, then went on to murder the poor carpenters and the others, before hacking the ladder-bridges apart, then soaking them with oil and setting them alight. This morning, there is nothing more left of them than there is of our new batteries of catapults and spearthrowers, alas.

“And there will be damnall fresh beef for a while, too, Djahn, The herd is scattered to hell and gone, and if I could blame that on the bloody Kuhmbuhluhners, I surely would; but eyewitnesses aver that that huge mountain cat that has been plaguing us periodically spooked them on last night of all possible nights. Moreover, four of our herders were killed trying to turn that stampede, too.

“As of about an hour agone, there were one thousand, one hundred and fifty-two other-ranks casualties, twenty-three officer casualties—of course, that figure includes the dead, the missing and all classes of wounded.

“In addition, three entire battalions lost all their polearms—long pikes, short pikes, axes, hammers, everything. We are going to have to find a new way to stack our weapons, possibly stack them in company lots or smaller, for battalion stacks are simply too large and dense to allow for saving many if any once they are well afire. All the pike carts were lost, too, damn it, burned to the axles and beyond.

“And in the confusion of getting the draft stock out the rear gate last night, no less than four of our good lady doctor’s wildmen disappeared, along with two mules and two good horses, one of them my riding horse, True. One of the bastards was that fellow Tremain.

“Let me have another taste of that foul rotgut, Djahn, then I’ll touch on why I sent for you this morning.”

The brigadier again upended the flask and took a long pull. A shudder shook his whole body. “Saints preserve us all, Djahn, that is truly devil’s brew. Where did it come from, pray tell?”

Sir Djahn shrugged. “I’m sure I have no idea, Ahrthur. My batman bought a half gallon of it—at a whopping price, I might add!—from one of that fellow Potter’s people. I usually have brandy, as you know, but my keg blew up when my tent burned last night, and all that was available this morning was this ... this decoction. Sorry, old man. Can’t say that I’m overfond of the stuff m’self, but it’s better than water.”

“All right, Djahn, back to business. It’s thankful we should all be that there are no more of those New Kuhmbuhluhnburkers than there are up there, for had they had the force available to attack this camp last night on the heels of that hellish bombardment, the siege would’ve been broken then and there and no doubt the most of us would be dead this morning. We might not be so fortunate a second time around. In fact, if there weren’t so many wounded to transport, I’d move the camp, now, this morning, lay out a new one out of range of those damned Kuhmbuhluhn engines ... if that’s possible. I never heard of engines that could throw such weights of missiles so far, ere this—why, that boulder that came down atop my own tent must weigh a good four hundred pounds or more.”

“You intend to lift the siege, Ahrthur? It might not be a bad idea, considering all the losses, and it’s purely your decision to make,” said Sir Djahn.

The brigadier shook his singed head. “Oh, no, Djahn, not yet. Even with our losses of men and materiel, we still outnumber the enemy by a goodly edge. I mean to make good use of that fact, and that’s where you and your good offices enter upon the matter.

“We’ll give it a few days. I don’t want them to have any inkling of just how badly they hurt us last night—such knowledge might give them ideas which could breed further unpleasantnesses for us. Maybe, the first of next week, I want you to ride back up there and shame that king and that duke to march out of that city and meet us in open battle here on this plain.”

Sir Djahn shook his head slowly. “I cannot credit it that I heard you say what you said, Ahrthur. Those men are not fools, you know, none of them. They can count as well as can you or I, and you can be certain that they know their only edge is those unassailable walls.”

“But you did it once before—shamed the late king into leaving this abomination of an invulnerable city to meet us in open battle at a place of our choosing,” said the brigadier stubbornly. “You did it after the autumn battle, last year.”

“That was then and this is now, Ahrthur,” Sir Djahn replied, tiredly but patiently, to his old friend. “I was able to nose out the hidden weakness of an old monarch who was verging on senility and use it against him and the best interests of his people ... and I can’t say that I’m proud of what I then did, Ahrthur.

“But, be that as it may, this King Byruhn is purely a practical man. No old-fashioned ideals to trip him up with—he would most likely laugh in my face, if he even deigned to take me seriously, to commence. He strikes me as the kind of man who probably talks much of honor, but honors that honor more in the breach than in the observance ... unless, of course, he can see possible advancement of his various schemes in such an observance.”

“Well,” the brigadier went on doggedly, “perhaps this condottiere, this Duke Bili, could influence his patron?”

Sir Djahn shook his head again. “Not bloody likely, Ahrthur, not bloody likely at all. As I said after my last visit to New Kuhmbuhluhnburk, Sir Bili, Duke Morguhn, is a vastly experienced mercenary officer and, although a thoroughgoing gentleman to his fingertips, as practical and hard-boiled a professional warrior as any I’ve ever come across.”

The brigadier’s shoulders sagged. “You refuse to go, then, old friend?”

“Oh, no, Ahrthur, I’ll go.” Sir Djahn grinned. “If for no other reason, to enjoy a few decent, well-cooked meals and an enjoyable tipple, though I think weedwine would likely be a distinct improvement on Potter’s rattlesnake venom here.”

“Thank you, sincerely, Djahn,” said the brigadier humbly. “This cast of the dice I am planning will be for all or for nothing. I am sending back to Skohshun Glen for the two reserve regiments and all of the light cavalry, along with every gentleman who can still sit a horse and swing steel. It will probably take them two weeks to get here, so take your time in talking the New Kuhmbuhluhners around and make that allowance in setting a date for the battle.”

When he arrived at last back in his suite in the palace, half a dozen servants divested Bili of his arms, armor, pourpoint and outer clothing, while yet another bore away his huge axe to be cleaned, rehoned and oiled. He sent one of them down to the palace kitchens to fetch back hot water that he might lave off the soot from his face and the sweat from his body.