L. Modesitt - Imager’s Battalion

“They have a pike line, sir,” said Zhelan.

“If you have to charge, leave first company with me and the imagers on the slope and cut to the north side and try to circle back behind the pike line.”

Both Zhelan and Ghaelyn nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Quaeryt looked to Skarpa.

“We’ll support you as necessary, Subcommander.”

Quaeryt understood what Skarpa hadn’t said-that any failure was on Quaeryt’s head, if only between the two of them, because commanders always got the credit … and the blame. Quaeryt also knew that Skarpa really didn’t want a slaughter on his hands.

Almost half a quint passed before Quaeryt got the word that Fifth Battalion was in position and ready, time that he had used to offer detailed instructions to the imagers. He turned to the undercaptains. “Keep a line abreast behind the first ranks of first squad.” That meant right behind him, although he didn’t say that. Then he nodded to Ghaelyn.

“First company … forward.”

The troopers rode forward at a walk.

First company and the imagers were within two hundred yards before a handful of arrows arched out from behind the berms, falling short by a good thirty yards.

“Shaelyt, don’t try for any arrows until we reach where those fell.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Imagers, except for Shaelyt, no imaging until my command.”

“Yes, sir.”

As soon as the front rank crossed the ground where the arrows lay, another flight of shafts arched toward them. No more than a score, but all of them vanished.

That impressed Quaeryt.

A second volley followed, and those vanished as well as first company and the imagers continued forward. Quaeryt prepared to extend his own shields across the width of the front rank, not that he wanted to unless it was necessary.

“Threkhyl, image pepper.”

Quaeryt added some pepper of his own, and a fine cloud drifted down on the waiting Bovarians.

Another volley of arrows arched toward the company, loosed just before the imaging, and Quaeryt extended his shields, which was just as well, because only half the shafts vanished from the sky. The others dropped harmlessly onto the dirt and grass in front of the company. Quaeryt could feel some strain, but he wasn’t light-headed … not yet.

“All imagers, more pepper!” he ordered, imaging a second cloud of finely mixed red and black pepper across the middle of the uniformed Bovarians. “First company! Forward! At my pace!” He didn’t know a command for the deliberate pace he wanted.

For a moment the fog of pepper was so thick that it appeared like a cloud.

As he led the company toward the sneezing, coughing mass of defenders, Quaeryt could see a line of pits, not covered well, but obvious enough to a rider moving slowly. “Beware the pits!”

As first company moved forward, a handful of uniformed Bovarian troopers realized that the pepper was mostly where they were and dashed forward into clearer air, their blades out. Some of the uniformed troopers lifted blades, and a few of the locals waved and thrust a few pikes and spears wildly, but it was obvious that few could even see or react. Then, most of the locals in gray threw down whatever weapons they had and ran for the stand of brush and trees to the south side of their line.

“Fifth Battalion!..” came the order from Zhelan.

“Forward!” Quaeryt heard Skarpa’s command. “Deliberate pace. Beware the pits!”

As he continued to ride forward, imaging yet more pepper, Quaeryt could see the confusion, blindness, and sneezing among the defenders, and when first company neared the line of pits, he called to Ghaelyn, “Have them hold, arms ready!”

“First company!”

Within a quint, the skirmish was all over. The defenders, those who were able and had not already fled, found themselves attacked from behind and pushed toward their own staked pits. Only a handful even tried to fight.

Quaeryt hoped too many of those had not been killed or badly wounded, because he doubted most had really been true Bovarian troopers. Nonetheless, he held the imagers and first company in readiness just in case.

After a time, Skarpa rode over, and Quaeryt rode from his position to join him.

“You know that pepper trick won’t work against regular troopers?” said Skarpa.

“I know. They’ll have too many archers, and they won’t let us get close enough.” Quaeryt smiled. “But it might work in close combat when matters are not going well.”

“You have a nasty turn of mind, Subcommander. It was a good tactic for this.”

“I hoped it would be.”

While the troopers of Third Regiment continued to round up the uniformed Bovarians, who looked to Quaeryt to be more of a militia or a local guard of some sort, Quaeryt studied the edge of the town, far too neat to have been supported by the gaggle of cots and small holders to the east. That suggested that they would find more prosperous lands along the south side of the river farther to the west, because the cable ferry wouldn’t have been developed or used without trade and people going back and forth.

A courier rode toward Skarpa from the center of the town, reining up beside the commander. “Sir … Subcommander Meinyt has captured the cable ferry tower. There was little resistance.”

“What else?” asked Skarpa.

“Even before we reached the tower, sir, the Bovarians had cut the cables.”

“Thank you. Tell the subcommander we will join him shortly.”

“Yes, sir.” The courier turned his mount and rode back up the brick-paved street.

“The Bovarians were watching from the north bank,” said Skarpa. “They don’t want us to be able to reinforce Deucalon.”

“They couldn’t even see the fighting,” said Quaeryt. “They must have cut the cables when they saw Meinyt’s men reach the cable tower.”

“We’re likely at least two days ahead of Deucalon,” said Skarpa.

“How do you figure that?”

“We had a day on them to begin with, and I know how Deucalon moves. That means we can take a day here and rest the men and the mounts.”

“You don’t think he’ll try to send a messenger across the river?”

“He knows the terrain. There’s no way to get a messenger and a mount across from where he likely is so that the messenger could catch us until we’re both west of Rivecote. That’s another reason to wait.”

“Orders?”

“He suggested it before we left. Besides, we need to get the town in order.” Skarpa grinned. “You have much more experience with that than anyone else.”

Quaeryt offered a mock-groan. “You would remember that.”

“So … what do you suggest to begin?”

“Patrols on all the streets, half squad size. No violence against people unless they start it. Name-calling isn’t violence, but inciting others to violence is … We need to get that word out to the people immediately as well…”

Skarpa nodded and listened.

By late on Mardi, Quaeryt had trooper patrols riding the streets of Rivecote Sud, with already experienced and effective troopers because, with Skarpa’s approval, he used those companies from Third Regiment who’d served the same function in restoring order to Extela after the eruption-and Rivecote Sud was a far smaller place. Then he, Skarpa, and Meinyt had to obtain what passed for quarters for more than three thousand troopers and their officers, although Skarpa did take over the largest inn for the senior officers and the imager undercaptains.

By Meredi morning, the militia or local reserves that Skarpa’s force had captured were working hard and removing the earthen berms, filling in the staked pits, and burying the handfuls of Bovarians killed the day before.

Quaeryt and Skarpa had ridden out to see the progress of that work under a slightly cooler sun and a silver hazed sky that promised a far hotter afternoon.