Harry Turtledove - Advance and Retreat

“Sure as I’m on my unicorn’s back,” Ben said. “I’d take oath by the Lion God’s mane.”

“They aren’t trying to set up an ambush, or anything like that?”

“No, sir. Nothing like that at all,” Ben said. “They were just making camp, like they’d gone as far as they figured on going today and they were setting up for the night.”

“Something really ought to happen to them, then,” Ned said. “You come along with me, Ben. We’re going to have us a little talk with Lieutenant General Bell.”

“You reckon he’ll pay attention to the likes of me?” the unicorn-rider asked.

“He’ll pay attention, by the gods,” Ned said softly. “If he doesn’t pay attention to you, he’ll have to pay attention to me.” He smiled a thoroughly grim smile. He’d met few men who cared to stand up under the full storm of his anger.

He and Ben rode back toward Bell, who traveled with the pikemen and crossbowmen of the Army of Franklin. When he saw Bell on a unicorn, he sighed. The commanding general hadn’t had an easy time of it. Ned had often wondered about Bell’s common sense. No one could doubt the leonine officer’s courage. Bell’s adjutant had had to tie him into the saddle. The stump of his left leg was too short to give him a proper grip on the unicorn’s barrel.

Ned looked down at himself. He’d been wounded several times, and still had the tip of a crossbow quarrel lodged somewhere near his spine. It had broken off; the surgeon had dug out most of the bolt, but not all. Men often died from a wound like his. He’d confounded the healers-he’d got well instead. He still had the use of all his parts, even if some of them had been punctured. Nothing on earth would have made him trade places with Lieutenant General Bell.

What was it like, to be a wreck of your former self? What was it like, to know you were the wreck of your former self? Bell knew those answers. Ned was glad he didn’t.

Respecting Bell’s bravery, he saluted the other officer. The commanding general cautiously returned the salute. With only one good hand, he had to be cautious about taking it off the reins. “What can I do for you, Lieutenant General?” Bell asked. As it often did, laudanum dulled his voice. His sagging, pain-racked features told the story of his suffering.

At Ned’s prompting, Ben repeated his news for Lieutenant General Bell. Ned added, “Sounds to me like if we move smart, we can hit the southrons a devils of a lick.”

“I don’t want to go straight at them,” Bell said. “We just use up our army that way, and we haven’t got enough men to be able to afford it. But if we can flank the southrons out of their position, if we can get around behind them and make them retreat past us… If we can do that, we’ll really make them pay.”

“Yes, sir. I like that.” Ned of the Forest liked hitting the enemy-he was one of the hardest hitters the north had. Hitting the enemy head-on was a different story. He saw that plainly, and wondered why more of King Geoffrey’s generals didn’t. Nodding with pleasure, he asked, “What do you want me to do?”

“Hold the gods-damned southrons in place with your men,” Bell answered. “Don’t let them come any farther north, and don’t let them get wind of how many men we have or what we’re doing with them.”

“I’ll try my best, General,” Ned said. “Can’t promise to hold off a whole army with just my unicorn-riders, though.”

“Yes, I understand that,” Bell said. “You can slow it down, though, and screen away the enemy’s riders, eh?”

“I expect I can manage that much, yes, sir,” Ned allowed. “Wouldn’t be much point to having unicorn-riders if we couldn’t do that sort of thing, would there?”

“I wouldn’t think so,” the commanding general said. “Well, go on down and take care of it, then. The men on foot will follow and outflank the southrons while you keep them in play. And when they realize we’ve got behind them and they have to retreat, they’re ours. I wish I could ride with you.”

“So do I, sir,” Ned said, more or less truthfully. Bell was no unicorn-rider by trade, but everyone said he’d been a fierce fighter before he started leaving pieces of himself on the battlefield.

Bell paused now to swig from the bottle of laudanum he always carried with him. “Ahh!” he said, and quivered with an ecstasy that almost matched a priest’s when he had a vision of his chosen god. For a moment, Bell’s eyes lost their focus. Whatever he was looking at, it wasn’t the muddy road and the trees shedding the last of their leaves. But then, quite visibly, he came back to himself. “You there, trooper!” He nodded at Ben.

“Yes, sir?” the unicorn-rider asked.

“You’re a corporal now,” Bell said. “You took chances to get your news, and you deserve to be rewarded. Lieutenant General Ned, see that the promotion goes into your records, so his pay at the new rank starts from today.”

“I’ll do that, sir,” Ned promised. “I was going to promote him myself, matter of fact, but better he gets it from the general commanding the whole army.”

Ben-now Corporal Ben-looked from Ned to Bell in delight. “Thank you kindly, both of you!” he exclaimed.

“Don’t you worry about that. You’ll earn those stripes on your shirt, never fear,” Ned said. “Now come on. We’ve got work to do.”

He urged his unicorn forward with knees and reins and voice. Ben followed. Ned felt Lieutenant General Bell’s eyes boring into his back. Bell could ride well enough to stay in the saddle, but he’d never storm forward in a unicorn charge.

Of course, Ned didn’t plan on storming forward in a unicorn charge, either. More often than not, he used his riders as mounted crossbowmen, not as cavaliers slashing away with swords. Unicorns let them get where they needed to go far faster than they could have afoot. Getting there first with the most men was essential. And if you got there first with a few, most of the time you wouldn’t need any more.

Back in the west, Duke Edward’s commander of unicorn-riders, Jeb the Steward, had played at war as if it were a game. His men had fought as much for sport and glory as to do the southrons harm. They’d done quite a lot; not even Ned could deny it. But Jeb the Steward had died the summer before. He’d died a hard, nasty death, with a southron crossbow bolt in his belly. The war in the west had got grimmer since he fell.

Here in the east, the war had been grim from the start. With the southrons holding down Franklin and Cloviston but a lot of men in the two provinces still loyal to the north, brother sometimes faced brother sword in hand. No fight could be more savage than one of that sort. Some of Ned’s own unicorn-riders had kin on the other side.

Ben pointed ahead. “There’s our riders, sir.”

“I see ’em,” Ned answered. He raised his voice to a great bellow: “Blow advance !” The trumpeters obeyed. The men cheered the martial music. Ned went right on roaring, too. “We’ve got the gods-damned southrons ahead of us,” he told the unicorn-riders. “We’ve got ’em ahead of us, and we need to hold their vanguard where it’s at. Reckon we can do that, boys?”

“Hells, yes!” the troopers shouted. If Ned of the Forest wanted them to do something, they would do it, or die trying.

But even reaching the southrons proved harder than Ned had expected. He booted his unicorn up to a trot so he could lead the riders from the front, as he always did. One reason they followed him so well was that they knew he wouldn’t order them to go anywhere he wasn’t going himself.

He knew where Summer Mountain lay and how to get there. He knew the whole province of Franklin. I’d better , he thought. By now, I’ve fought over just about every gods-damned inch of it . He guided the troopers forward with confidence.