L. Modesitt - Imager’s Battalion

When the three undercaptains were in position, Quaeryt ordered, “Image now!”

Almost instantly, two wide spans angled from the north side of the roadbed section of the isle fort. The right-hand one merged with the north bridge approach. The left span merged with the bluff wall and then angled down into what Quaeryt thought had to be a square.

Quaeryt gave the three undercaptains a quick look, but all three were still in the saddle, then glanced down and to his right. On the surface of the River Aluse, the thin film of ice caused by their imaging was already moving east of the bridge with the water, while fragmenting into shimmering pieces, already melting in the orangish white light of the early morning sun.

“Undercaptains Shaelyt, Desyrk, Lhandor, and Khalis forward!”

“Ready, Undercaptains?”

“Ready, sir.”

“Fifth Battalion! Forward!”

Ghaelyn and Zhelan echoed the orders as Quaeryt urged the mare forward onto the gray stone of the new span. Khalis rode beside Quaeryt on the right-hand span while Shaelyt, Desyrk, and Lhandor led the way on the left. Baelthm was farther back behind Quaeryt, who could only hope that Shaelyt’s shields were up to what was likely to strike them.

Even before Quaeryt reached the point where the newly imaged stone span met the roadway of the old bridge, he was scanning what lay ahead-a gray stone square roughly two hundred yards on a side, surrounded on three sides by gray stone buildings of two and three stories that could have been identical to the structures on the south side of the river. Quaeryt extended his shields to cover the front of the column he led, looking for Bovarian defenders.

Why a square on this side of the river and not on the other? Quaeryt pushed that thought aside. A second glance revealed that in the center of the far side of the square was a low stone barricade no more than fifty yards long, behind which crouched troopers. What looked to be a low brown earthen berm crossed the square some ten yards in front of the stone barricade.

Then from the two streets leading from the square arched hundreds of arrows, some directed at Quaeryt’s column, the remainder toward the western column where Shaelyt led the riders into the far side of the square. Quaeryt barely felt the shafts impact on his shields. He kept riding forward, down into the square. Behind him Fifth Battalion’s first and second companies began to spread out. He glanced to his left, where third and fourth companies were already doing the same behind Shaelyt, forming up side by side with a five-man front.

There have to be more defenders! Where are they?

He looked beyond the low barricade at the featureless gray stone front of the line of buildings.

Featureless? How could the buildings have no windows or doors?

Just as that thought crossed his mind, the far side of the square exploded, and Quaeryt felt as though his shields had been compressed into an iron jacket that instantly slammed thousands of spear-points into his chest, upper body, forehead, and face. He contracted his personal shield to cover just himself as he struggled to stay upright in the saddle. He did manage to see hundreds of musketeers revealed from behind gray drapes just in front of the buildings at the end of the square.

A quick horn triplet followed, and what Quaeryt had thought was a berm turned out to be pikemen huddled under brown cloth as they struggled to throw off the cloth and take their positions, trying to raise pikes against the oncoming Telaryn troopers.

“Fifth Battalion! Charge!” ordered Zhelan.

Quaeryt let the troopers surge past him, knowing that there was little he could do at the moment … or perhaps for some time. Again, he was grateful for Zhelan. He did manage to pull to the side, out of the way of troopers coming off the bridge and to order, “Undercaptains! On me!”

While he was anything but content to let others charge while he remained stationary behind what remained of his shields, he doubted that he could even have lifted his staff, let alone used it in any meaningful way.

Should you have tried?

He almost snorted. His shields wouldn’t have held, and with his stiffness and inability to move or ride well, he’d likely have lost his staff at the first contact and become more of a liability than a help. Again, he was lucky that he had Zhelan as a second in command, and even more fortunate that Skarpa understood that.

In what seemed moments, Fifth Battalion was reinforced by the lead companies of Third Regiment, then by the rest of Skarpa’s regiment, and by Eleventh Regiment. From what Quaeryt could see, Fifth Regiment poured into the square from the western span.

In less than two quints, Quaeryt, the undercaptains, and a squad from first company detailed to protect them were almost alone in the square, except for the dying and the wounded of both Telaryn and Bovaria. Quaeryt had taken some time to drink a little lager from his water bottle, but reaching for it had been painful.

Desyrk had guided Shaelyt and Lhandor over to join the group. Shaelyt was slumped in the saddle, and Quaeryt could see red marks across his face and neck. He had no doubts that they were everywhere, as they likely were on his own body.

Quaeryt swallowed, then asked Desyrk, “Did Shaelyt’s shields take the brunt of the muskets?”

“I … think so, sir. No one seemed wounded by the volley, but he nearlike fell out of the saddle. I … we.. caught him. He’s hurt … maybe … bad…”

“He’s bruised all over,” Quaeryt said.

Desyrk looked at Quaeryt. “Like you, sir?”

“The same reason. I’m a little stronger than he is.”

“You took much more fire,” said Khalis from beside Quaeryt. “I saw it. You saved hundreds.”

“Some. Probably not hundreds.” Quaeryt looked out over the fallen lying across the square, but most of those wore blue-gray, rather than the faded green of Telaryn, and there were pikes lying everywhere.

The shields must have helped. He hoped so, because every one of his ribs hurt, and sharp pains stabbed across his chest with every movement he made. But what had also helped the Telaryn forces was that the musketeers hadn’t been able to fire a second volley without doing in their own pikemen, and the pikemen hadn’t been able to properly form up and set their pikes before Zhelan had charged them. The defense had been too complex, but it had revealed the weakness in Quaeryt’s plan. Too complicated, and too much reliance on imagers doing too many things.

He looked over at Shaelyt again. The Pharsi undercaptain was no longer slumped, but he was pale, and clearly in great pain. Quaeryt eased his mount over beside Shaelyt. “Are you feeling any better?”

“Not … much.” After a long pause, Shaelyt said slowly, “Your shields … hurt like this?”

“They hurt,” Quaeryt admitted. “It’s hard to move.”

Shaelyt looked as if he wanted to shake his head, but decided against it.

“That’s why I don’t want any of us getting into the habit of shielding troopers. You and I just covered the front. What would have happened if you’d tried to shield them all?”

“I … wouldn’t be … here?”

“No. You’d be dead. So would I, if I’d tried that.” Quaeryt winced. He’d spoken too forcefully, and his body had let him know. “Drink some lager or ale, whatever’s in your bottle. It will help.”

“Yes, sir.” Shaelyt moved slowly, reaching for his water bottle.

Quaeryt understood all too well how the undercaptain felt.

After a glass or so had passed, Major Arion returned to the square with fourth company, reining up before Quaeryt. “Subcommander, sir … You’re wounded!”

“In a way. Bruised all over. So is Undercaptain Shaelyt.”