L. Modesitt - Imager’s Battalion

“Uh … yes, sir.”

Quaeryt thought he’d managed to make the stubborn undercaptain understand. “Once the lead battalion of Fifth Regiment passes, Fifth Battalion will follow, at my command…”

He had the feeling the day would be long, but he put that thought aside as he outlined the specific duties for each imager.

While Quaeryt was certain he wouldn’t sleep at all on Meredi night, he did sleep, or at least he dozed, but he was awake even before he heard the voices outside the cot and then the steps on the cot porch in the darkness sometime after second glass after midnight. He had one boot on when the squad leader entered the main chamber of the small cot and spoke.

“Subcommander, sir … it’s time.”

“I thought so.” Quaeryt pulled on the second boot, then stood. “Thank you.”

“Yes, sir.” The squad leader nodded, or Quaeryt thought he did, before leaving the cot.

Quaeryt finished dressing and readying himself, then mustered the imagers. Within another quint, Fifth Battalion was on the road, with first company in the van, followed by Fifth Regiment, the remainder of Fifth Battalion, and then Third Regiment. Meinyt rode beside Quaeryt with Ghaelyn immediately following. Skarpa rode at the head of Third Regiment.

“How did the attacks go earlier in the night?” asked Quaeryt.

“Too easy,” replied Meinyt. “We could have reached the hilltop with a single company.”

“Do you think they’ve pulled back to Villerive and left just a token force?”

“It’s possible.”

“You don’t sound convinced.”

“I’m not. Neither is Skarpa. Why would they abandon a strong defensive position?”

“To get us in a weaker one, I’d guess.”

“How could they do that if we hold the high ground and have more troopers?”

How indeed? The obvious answer to Quaeryt was that the Bovarians had some sort of plan. “All those musketeers, maybe, lined up and waiting on the hilltop?”

“It would take more than that. We’d take losses, but we could still run them down.”

“Hidden pits? Both? Heavy cavalry to the side?”

Meinyt shrugged. “We’re guessing, but we’ll need to be ready for any of that.”

And more, likely. Especially since, once again, the woods-or jungle-like forest-precluded a circling attack from the south or southwest while the river protected the north side of the approach to Ralaes.

Almost a glass passed, and first company was heading down to the flat section of the river road that ended at the base of the fortified slope leading to the town. While Quaeryt could see that Artiema, now almost a quarter full, hung well above the western horizon, it seemed that Erion had barely moved. Not wonderful for a supposed son of Erion. He smiled ironically. Somehow he doubted that Erion had been immobile in the sky or that the lesser moon’s position in the sky would make much difference, not when neither moon was offering that much light.

As they came to the end of the flat section of the road, the sounds of horses breathing in the moist warm night air seemed preternaturally loud to Quaeryt, yet he knew that was his own sensitivity. He heard nothing at all from the revetments ahead. In one respect, that should be the case. If the Bovarian lookouts and sentries saw nothing and heard nothing, why would they say much of anything in the middle of the night?

Except that, after several attacks, they should be jumpy and saying things, shouldn’t they? And why hadn’t they had sentries posted farther out? Or had they … and had the sentries hurried back to warn the Bovarian commander?

First company continued forward as Quaeryt held concealment shields over the first ranks of first company. Nearly a quint passed as first company rode slowly up the slope toward the point where the two revetments nearly joined. Quaeryt could see lanterns, or torches, in a few places at the top of the hill, well above the defensive revetments on the slope, but not a glimmer of light from any of the revetments. For a moment he wondered why. Then, recalling his days as a quartermaster, he realized that the defenders could see better if their eyes were used to the darkness. It was the same reason as why ships that spread sails at night kept the open decks dark.

Or … it’s because there aren’t very many troopers down there.

He still felt that someone on the Bovarian side should have noticed something … or would before long.

“Attackers! On the road!” The words came from the revetment on the south side of the river road.

“Smoke and pepper in the revetments nearest the road. Now!” Quaeryt dropped the concealment shields and raised his own personal shields. “First company to the right!”

He edged the mare forward. While he could not see the smoke, first company was close enough to the earthworks that he could smell a hint of the acridity within instants.

“Column! Charge!” came the order from Meinyt, along with a trumpet call, and the first companies of Fifth Regiment galloped past Quaeryt and first company, with Meinyt joining the charge-but after the first company.

A metallic clanging issued from beyond the crest of the road, near the lanterns or torches that Quaeryt could barely see, given the slope of the road up toward the town beyond.

Half a battalion had ridden past before armsmen with bucklers strapped to their left forearms and blades longer than the Telaryn sabres swarmed toward the road, with some headed toward Quaeryt and the imagers. The first defenders from the revetments launched themselves toward the legs of first company’s horses, holding their bucklers up as if to ward off down-cuts from the Telaryn sabres.

For just a moment Quaeryt expanded and extended his shields, knocking the Bovarians back. He didn’t know what else he could do, not with Fifth Regiment thundering by them and filling the road. He hadn’t expected the defenders to ignore the regiments. But you should have. You’re sitting swans.

“Imagers! First company! Forward with me and Fifth Regiment!” Quaeryt didn’t see much point in holding longer. You just hope this will work.

He contracted his shields into a wedge extending perhaps a half yard on either side and urged the mare forward, riding past the edge of the revetment and inadvertently throwing several Bovarian defenders back into the trench behind the earthworks. He only could see the trench for an instant-and not much of it at that. But it appeared empty, as if the few handfuls of defenders were all that had held the position. He was past the first revetment too quickly to be sure, but that worried him. There should have been more defenders. Many more. And if the Bovarians had merely withdrawn … why would they have left any defenders at all?

Unless the Bovarian commanders didn’t tell the poor bastards.

He tried to catch a glimpse of the revetments on the slope to the south side of the river road, but between the darkness and the troopers of Fifth Regiment to his left, he could make out nothing at all. There might have been thousands of Bovarians or none at all.

When, still on the shoulder of the road, he rode past the second revetment, some fifty yards farther uphill, and saw no troopers at all, he could only wonder what trap lay over the crest of the road … and what, if anything, he could do about it.

Quaeryt and first company were less than a hundred yards from the top of the rise when he heard the thunder of muskets-one volley, then a second, and a third. No defenders issued from the last line of revetments before the slope flattened out onto level ground.

In the dim light of a few lanterns hung on widely spaced posts and that of Artiema, Quaeryt could see that Meinyt had done exactly what he had said was necessary. He’d thrown his first battalion right at the musketeers-arrayed behind earthworks midway between waist-high and chest-high. The first troopers to actually reach the earthworks had tried to jump them, and some had succeeded. Others had left their mounts, or perhaps their mounts had been shot from under them, and climbed or vaulted over the earthen revetments.