Harry Turtledove - Through the Darkness

Saying as much would only get him into trouble, and he knew it. He tried an oblique approach: “A lot of the men are pretty frazzled right now.”

“I know that. I’m pretty frazzled myself,” Hawart replied. “But so is the kingdom. If Unkerlant folds up, it won’t matter that we got to sit here happy in the swamp for a while-and the fight’s already moving past it on both sides. You can hear that.”

“Aye,” Leudast said. Every one of Hawart’s words was the truth, and he knew it. But he still didn’t want to leave this shelter that had been so long in coming and so hard to find.

And then one of the sentries came trotting back from the eastern approaches to the high ground. “There’s Algarvians starting to probe the swamp, sir,” he told Hawart.

“Still think we can drive ‘em back whenever we please, Alboin?” Leudast asked.

The youngster scratched at his formidable nose. “It’s gotten harder, Sergeant,” he admitted, “but we aren’t licked yet.” He had a burn above one eyebrow. A couple of fingers’ difference in the path of the beam that had scarred him and it would have cooked his brains inside his head.

“Only three real paths that lead here,” Leudast said. “The redheads’ll be a while finding ‘em, too. They’ll spend a couple of days floundering in the mud, odds are, and we can hold ‘em off for a long time even if I’m wrong.”

Hawart laughed, though he didn’t sound very happy doing it. “The war’s coming to us whether we like it or not,” he said. “Me, I don’t like it very much.” He glanced up at Alboin. “Your orders are, don’t blaze unless you’re discovered or unless they strike a path and come straight for us. If they don’t, we’ll pull back after dark and see if we can find the rest of our army.”

Alboin saluted and repeated the orders back. Then he headed east to pass them on to the other lookouts and to return to his own station. Watching his broad back, Leudast slowly nodded. Alboin was a veteran now, all right. He’d seen the bad along with the good, and he was still fighting and not too discouraged.

Captain Hawart and his men got about half of what Leudast had predicted: as much as anyone could expect when dealing with Algarvians without snow on the ground. The sun was going down in the southwest before King Mezentio’s men realized the swamp was defended. Then they started a brisk little skirmish with the sentries. They sent more and more soldiers forward to drive back the Unkerlanters, and also started lobbing eggs in the general direction of the strongpoint.

“Don’t let ‘em worry you, lads,” Hawart said as one of those eggs burst and threw mud and stinking water all over the landscape. “They’re tossing blind. Sit tight a bit, and then we’ll get out of here.”

Unlike the Algarvians, Hawart’s men knew the swamp well. They’d found paths that led west, as well as some that offered escape in other directions. “Pity we haven’t got any eggs we could bury here to give the redheads a little surprise when they make it this far,” Leudast said.

“Pity we can’t bury the cursed Algarvians here,” Hawart answered. “But, as long as they don’t bury us, we’ll get another chance at them later.”

The sentries came back up the paths to the main patch of higher ground. One of them had an arm in a sling. “It’ll be a while before the Algarvians get here,” he said; he still had fight in him.

“Let’s get moving,” Hawart said, and then, casually, “Leudast, you’ll head up the rear guard.”

Leudast had been in the army since the days when the only fighting was the spasmodic war between Unkerlant and Gyongyos in the mountains of the far, far west. If anyone here could lead the rear guard, he was the man. If that meant he was all too likely to get killed.. well, he’d been all too likely to get killed quite a few times now. If he stood and fought, his comrades would have a better chance of getting away. He shrugged and nodded. “Aye, sir.”

Hawart gave him a dozen men, a couple of more than he’d expected. He positioned them so that they covered the places where the paths from the east opened up onto the high ground. They waited while their countrymen slipped away to the west. By the trilling Algarvian shouts that came from the other direction, they wouldn’t have to wait very long.

Sure enough, here came a filthy, angry-looking redhead. He didn’t seem to realize the path opened out onto a wider stretch of nearly dry ground. He didn’t get much of a chance to ponder it, either; Leudast blazed him. He crumpled, his stick falling from his hands to the muddy ground.

A moment later, another Algarvian appeared at the end of a different track. Two beams cut him down, but not cleanly; he thrashed and writhed and shrieked, warning Mezentio’s men behind him that the Unkerlanters hadn’t all disappeared.

“We’ll get the next few, then back over to the paths the rest of the boys are using,” Leudast called. Here he was, leading a squad again rather than a company. With the problem smaller, the solution seemed obvious.

Several Algarvians burst out onto the firm ground at once, blazing as they came. The Unkerlanters knocked down a couple of them, but the others dove behind bushes and made Leudast’s men keep their heads down. That meant more Algarvians could come off the paths without getting blazed.

Leudast grimaced. King Mezentio’s men weren’t making his life easy-but then, they never had. “Back!” he shouted to the little detachment under his command. They’d all seen a good deal of action, and knew better than to make a headlong rush for what would not be safety. Instead, some retreated while other blazed at the Algarvians. Then the men who’d run stopped and blazed so their friends could fall back past them.

Darkness was gaining fast now, but not fast enough to suit Leudast. He felt horribly exposed to Mezentio’s men as he scrambled and dodged and twisted back toward the mouth of one of the paths the rest of Hawart’s shrunken command had taken. He counted the soldiers who came with him: eight, one of them wounded. They’d made the redheads pay, but they’d paid, too.

“Let’s go!” he said, and hurried till the path bent. He barely recalled the bend was there, and came close to rushing straight ahead into the ooze and muck of the swamp. Peering back through the thickening twilight, he made out the redheads coming after his little force. He blazed at them, blazed and shouted the vilest curses he knew.

After he’d blazed, after he’d cursed, he slid on down the path as quietly as he could. The Algarvians charged straight toward where he had been, as he’d hoped they would. They charged toward where he had been, and then past where he had been-and right into the mud. He didn’t understand a word of what they were saying, but it sounded hot.

He was tempted to start blazing again; he was sure he could have picked off a couple of them. Instead, he drew away from them, disappearing down another bend in the path. He’d been this way before, by day and by night- Captain Hawart wanted everybody ready for whatever might happen. But the Algarvians would have a cursed hard time following the path. Leudast chuckled. They would have had a hard time following it in daylight, as he knew full well.

“Swemmel!” somebody called softly from up ahead.

“Cottbus,” Leudast answered: the king and the capital were hardly the most imaginative sign and countersign in the world, but they’d do. He added, “Bugger every Algarvian in Unkerlant with the biggest pine cone you can find.”

Whoever was up ahead of him laughed. “You’re one of ours, all right.”

“I’m your sergeant,” Leudast told him. “Come on. Let’s get moving. We’ve got to catch up with the rest of the regiment.”