Imager’s Battalion (40 page)

Quaeryt closed the book and sat down at the small table, trying to turn what he read into a semblance of a homily. Two glasses later, he was still struggling, but he finally had something workable, if not ideal, just before he had to join the other officers in the public room.

That evening, after dinner, at slightly before half past sixth glass, Quaeryt approached the door in the South River Inn leading out onto the courtyard porch.

Skarpa stood beside the door, with a slight smile on his face. “Both courtyards are filled. I hope your voice is in good fettle.”

“So do I.” That meant image-projecting his voice, but that wasn’t tiring, and he would have a night’s sleep before they advanced on Villerive.

He stepped out onto the porch, and the conversations died away. He let the silence draw out for a bit, then image-projected his voice. “We gather together in the spirit of the Nameless and to affirm the quest for goodness and mercy in all that we do.”

Then came the opening hymn, again the only one he knew by heart—“Glory to the Nameless”—followed by the confession beginning with, “We name not You, for naming presumes, and we presume not upon the Creator of all that was, is, and will be…”

As always the confessional words that followed were difficult for Quaeryt, but he did lead the response that followed, “In peace and harmony.”

He waited for a long moment, and then spoke. “Good evening, and all evenings are good evenings under the Nameless, but we say that so often that, for many, it is like saying a day is a day, an evening an evening, and all roads lead somewhere. When I thought that, I wondered what Rholan had thought about roads, since he walked and rode many in his time. Then I recalled what he had said. He claimed that whether a road was good or not so good depended on how you looked at it. Were you considering where a road stopped as its end or its beginning? Now … if we’re walking a road, and it stops, we think we’ve come to the end. But what of the man who steps out of the woods and sees where we thought the road ended? He sees it as a beginning. In that way, whether a road is an end or a beginning depends on where you’re going. That’s true of every man here.

“Before long, we will be heading west, toward Villerive and then toward Nordeau and Variana. If we are to be successful, we must consider the road we travel, the road we must fight to travel, as a beginning, and not as an end. It must be the beginning of a better time for all of Lydar …

“Why do I say this? Some of you may know that Rex Kharst sent out his own men to burn the crops of his own holders for fear that we might benefit from them. His own holders, and his men burned crops we could not have used. Some others of you may know that he has sent assassins with crossbows to kill our officers, but these assassins were not trained to kill Telaryn officers. They were trained to kill anyone in Bovaria—not in Telaryn, but Bovaria—from High Holders to important factors who uttered a word against the rex. Rex Kharst does not have a few assassins; he has companies of them.

“We did not start to travel this road. In order to attack us, Rex Kharst sent his troopers down the very road we travel in the opposite direction. If we do not travel this road all the way to Variana, and beyond, then you, and your children, and your children’s children will live in fear that, at some time, another rex will burn your crops and worse. For as Rholan said many years ago, a road is measured by its quality and the goodness of not only those who create it, but those who must travel it … and we are traveling it to return goodness to Lydar…”

As he went on to finish the service, Quaeryt realized that he had twisted Rholan’s words, although, from what he’d read of the Unnamer, he doubted that Rholan would have found too much fault.

Still … it bothered him, for all of Skarpa’s nod when Quaeryt spoke the last words of his final words that followed the closing hymn.

“As we have come together to seek meaning and renewal, let us go forth this evening renewed in hope and in harmony with that which was, is, and ever shall be.”

43

When the sun cleared the eastern horizon on Lundi morning, Quaeryt and Fifth Battalion were riding westward on a narrow lane that circled a series of fields and would turn northward, less than a mille ahead, back toward the river and the western end of the earthworks around the southern part of Villerive. Because Fifth Battalion had the farthest to travel, Quaeryt and first company had been the first to leave Ralaes, shortly after daybreak.

Quaeryt studied the fields to his right, most holding some sort of bean plants that were near harvesting and stood waist-high. He would have preferred maize, because the taller plants would have concealed their movements, but then he doubted that his force would have gained much advantage from not being seen until later. The Bovarians had to know they were coming.

“Have the scouts reported anything more about where the defenders might be located?” asked Zhelan. “Or any areas where there might be fewer?”

“All they have reported is that the Bovarians have enough archers to keep them from getting too close to the earthworks. They could discover no pits or traps beyond two hundred yards, and there appeared to be few or none between one and two hundred yards.”

Zhelan glanced back at the undercaptains, then looked straight ahead. “In how many places will the imagers be able to weaken the defenses?”

“Three, at least.”

Although Skarpa was in favor of what Quaeryt would have called a measured and inexorable attack on Villerive, he had suggested that Meinyt and Quaeryt proceed as their men, their opposition, and circumstance allowed. Quaeryt intended to use imaging to change those circumstances.

He studied the lane ahead, where it curved northward toward the western end of the earthworks, and the fields of more beans that ran almost to the hurriedly built revetments. With the haze hanging over the fields and the woods farther east, Quaeryt couldn’t even feel the heat of the sun on his back.

He turned in the saddle as Threkhyl eased his mount forward.

“Sir … a question, if you would?”

“Go ahead.”

“You don’t care how we do this, sir?” asked Threkhyl. “In dealing with the earthworks? So long as we flatten them?”

“Whatever takes the least effort for you,” replied Quaeryt, his thoughts more on what lay behind the earthworks. “That way, you can open a wider gap. That will leave less cover for the defenders and more space for the troopers.”

“Yes, sir. I think we can do the same thing if we image the earth back, especially if they have trenches behind.”

“You can try it, but it’s got to be low enough for the troopers to go through without being slowed.”

“Yes, sir. We can do that.” Threkhyl let his mount drop back.

Another quint passed, and Fifth Battalion left the narrow way that had already dwindled to little more than a path and began to form up some 250 yards away from the earthworks, companies abreast with a five-man front. The area Quaeryt had picked was located just before the earthworks turned sharply north toward the low bluff that marked the edge of the river. The section of earthworks that ran north was less than fifty yards long, while the target area for Fifth Battalion ran roughly from east-southeast to west-northwest, so that the troopers would not be attacking into the morning sun. The earthworks before Quaeryt showed only two catapults rising above the defenses, not that there might not be smaller ones as well. He could see a few defenders here and there, but try as he might, he could make out no sign of muskets, or any sort of variation in the front of the earthworks that might conceal musketeers.

He heard bells or chimes clanging and thought he saw a few heads bobbing behind the earthworks, suggesting that the far side of the revetments were likely stepped, so that the defenders had some height, with trenches behind the space for supplies and others manning the earthen walls.

Zhelan and Quaeryt had decided on literally walking the mounts toward the earthworks, at least until the defenders reacted, whether with volleys by archers or a musket barrage or an attack from behind the earthworks. The longer the battalion could maintain a slow approach, the more likely the troopers could avoid stakes and hidden ditches or other pitfalls. That also meant that the imagers could get closer before having to image, and that would save their strength.

Of course, the Bovarians could put an immediate stop to that by attacking first.

“Sir … look at the bean plants,” said Zhelan.

Quaeryt looked, but all he saw was greenery. “What should I be seeing?”

“Some of them are like beans should be. Others are sagging and wilting.”

Frig! You should have seen that.
“That’s where there are pits and they’ve tried to conceal them with nets and plants?”

“I can’t be certain, sir, but I’d wager a gold on it.”

“I won’t take that wager. You’d better pass that to the company officers now. We can wait until you do.”

Another half quint passed before a squad leader returned. “All companies informed, sirs!”

“Fifth Battalion! Forward! Measured pace!”

As the companies moved forward, heads popped up from behind the revetments, but no defenders left the cover of the earthworks. Not until Quaeryt’s troopers were about a hundred yards away did the first volley of arrows arch out over the earthworks and sleet down toward the battalion.

Quaeryt briefly extended an angled shield that diverted the first fall of arrows into the plants before the advancing battalion. “Imagers! Smoke and pepper! Now!”

As the haze of acrid smoke and pepper covered the rear side of the earthworks, he watched to see if the undercaptains had followed their briefing, and so far as he could tell, the smoke and pepper blanketed the two-hundred-yard stretch that was Fifth Battalion’s target.

“Imagers! Breach the earthworks! Now!” Quaeryt did not immediately attempt to personally image gaps in the earthworks before Fifth Battalion, although he was ready to do so, if necessary.

His mouth opened. Directly before Fifth Battalion was a break in the defenses close to fifty yards wide. Moreover, the area behind it was flat, as if the defenses had been leveled and used to fill any trenches behind the walls. Two smaller breaches, slightly over ten yards wide and some fifty yards on either side from the main breach, had also appeared.

“Second company! Into the center breach!” ordered Zhelan.

Major Calkoran repeated the order in Pharsi, and second company swept toward the opening in the earthworks in a curved path around a stand of wilted beans. Even so, one rider and his mount went down.

“Third company! The right breach! Fourth company! The left breach!” commanded Zhelan.

“First company! On me!” ordered Quaeryt, keeping the mare moving at a fast walk while trying to study the charging companies and the defenders.

Not a single defender even appeared in the open space where the center breach was until the riders were within a handful of yards of the openings.

The movement of one of the catapults caught Quaeryt’s eye, and he tried what he’d suggested to Threkhyl—a quick shield in front of the basket being swung forward.

Fire—Antiagon Fire—flared up and around the basket, then cascaded down into the trench holding the catapult.

A few yells and screams pierced the morning, then died away.

Quaeryt kept riding, looking at the second catapult, then toward the cleared spaces in the earthworks ahead, and back to the catapult.

Around the middle breach, from both sides, scores of defenders rushed forward, a few handfuls with pikes or long spears. Most could not set their pikes firmly before the Khellans were upon them, at least in part because the gap in the earthworks was so wide.

The second catapult moved—or Quaeryt thought it did—and he realized he didn’t have time to keep watching it. So he imaged away one of the main timber supports and watched a moment longer, to make sure the frame sagged. He just hoped there weren’t too many catapults with Antiagon Fire on the east side of Villerive, where Skarpa and Meinyt were attacking.
You can only do so much.

He shifted his attention to the other two breaches, where a number of defenders were already trying to fill the gap.
Why so few defenders in the middle?
He didn’t have an answer, or time to worry about that, but guided first company behind second company, since it appeared that the wider breach would offer less opposition. He wanted to keep the imagers clear of hand-to-hand fighting as long as possible in order to use them as necessary to reach the bridge over the River Aluse.

Thinking about hand-to-hand combat, he belatedly eased his staff from the leathers and continued riding forward. Second company had pushed back the defenders, many of whom had thrown down arms and were running toward the houses to the north of the earthworks. Another group of defenders had formed into a circle with pikes pointing out.

Should you use your shields to break the pikes?
Guiding the mare to the right slightly, in the direction of the pikemen, Quaeryt glanced down as he rode through the wide breach in the earthworks, catching sight of the soles of a pair of boots, and then the backside of a figure in blue-gray. He swallowed, fully understanding what Threkhyl had meant by his question earlier. The ginger-bearded imager—and likely the others—had “simply” flattened the earthworks back into the trenches behind the raised clay and dirt, and that imaging had instantly buried any and all defenders standing on the stepped rear surface of the earthworks or in the trenches below.

No wonder there weren’t any defenders left standing behind the gaps.

At that moment Quaeryt heard the rumble of hoofs, and a company or more of horsemen charged along a narrow road from Villerive toward Calkoran’s troopers. The old major clearly expected something like that, because second company had already re-formed and rode toward the defenders.

Quaeryt didn’t want to see second company forced back into the pikemen.

“First company! On me!” He urged the mare forward, keeping his personal shields close to him and his mount—until the last moment before they reached the sharpened ends of the pikes, when he spread them like a wedge as he plunged into the tightly packed mass of men, linking the shields to the nearest first company mounts as well.