The Autumn Republic (12 page)

Gravel shifted beneath him as he scrambled backward on his hands and feet as the soldier advanced with his bayonet. Taniel backed around the edge of the boulder and snatched for his knife. It wouldn’t be worth shit against a bayonet, but he had to try. He drew it just as the soldier was rounding the corner. He wouldn’t be able to get to his feet in time. This would be impossible to —

Blood spouted from the soldier’s mouth and beneath it something sprouted from his throat like a plant growing in a field. He teetered on his feet, then was helped in his tumble off the edge by a firm shove by Ka-poel.

She held a bayonet in one hand, clutched by the ring, and her ratty clothes were stained by the blood of far more than that one poor infantryman.

Taniel let out a sigh of relief and his whole body sagged beneath him. She’d saved his life. Again. He climbed to his feet and nodded his thanks, not trusting himself to speak. All this adrenaline, this skirting of death, was far harder to deal with when he was not in a powder trance.

A bullet ricocheted off the boulder just above Ka-poel’s head. Taniel grabbed her by the front of her jacket and pulled her into an embrace, knowing instinctively that the bullet had come from behind him. He caught a glimpse of two soldiers standing on the outcropping that he’d spotted earlier. The second one was lining up his shot. Taniel could do nothing but put his body in between Ka-poel and the bullet and hope the man missed.

FOOM
.

The sound left Taniel’s ears ringing. When he managed to pull himself away from Ka-poel, the soldiers weren’t on the outcropping anymore. One of their hats lay on its side where they had just been, and a quick glance showed him two more bodies down in the gorge.

What the pit was that?

The crunch of boots on stone made him cringe. More infantry?

A familiar figure strolled out to the end of the narrow outcropping. He wore ruddy muttonchops and a suit of clothes that, if they hadn’t been so travel-worn and dusty, would probably cost as much as a horse.

Privileged Borbador kicked the infantryman’s hat after its owner and watched it soar down into the gully. He turned to Taniel and waved.

“Hey, Tan. Sorry I’m late,” he called.

N
ila was going to die.

She wondered if that certainty had ever crossed her mind before, during any of the events of the last six months. It must have. During her time with the royalists, or as Lord Vetas’s prisoner, or even her first encounter with Bo. There were a dozen or more times that she had stared death in the face.

Yet none of them seemed more certain than now.

Something had been done to buy the Adran army an extra day. She’d seen a messenger rush from General Hilanska’s camp yesterday afternoon, crossing over to the Kez lines, and the anticipated attack had never come. It had given Brigadier Abrax more time to plan and dig in her forces.

And now, with the sun rising over the Adsea, the Kez and Adrans prepared for battle once again. A hundred thousand Kez infantry fell into ranks to the south, their bayonets glittering in the morning sun. To the northeast, General Hilanska’s men were already arrayed and ready for battle. Nila stood near the Wings of Adom command tent, where she could see messengers running to and fro and hear the bark of Abrax’s stern alto.

The Wings of Adom and the three brigades of Adran soldiers that Ket had handed over would be crushed between the two enemy armies.

There wasn’t even any place to run.

Rumors swirled among the Wings of Adom. A captain claimed that they’d seen one of Field Marshal Tamas’s powder mages. An infantryman claimed that Deliv had entered the war and were sending reinforcements, but that they were still weeks away. Another said that this was all a ruse by Hilanska and that once the Kez forces advanced, Hilanska’s army would swing around and hit them in the flank.

Soldiers would say anything to keep up morale, it seemed.

Even if all of those things were the case, they would still be crushed by the Kez. There were just too many of them. Their army could swallow the entirety of the Wings of Adom mercenary company five times over and still have room for more. The Wings’ infantry – impressively – kept up a professional front, but she could see the panic in the eyes of the rank-and-file soldiers and their officers.

They would all be dead by morning.

“Ma’am,” a voice said at Nila’s elbow, startling her.

She regained her composure and turned to the young lieutenant. He couldn’t have been much older than Nila and he wore his black hair slicked back under his bicorne and tied in a bow behind his head. He favored her with a nervous smile.

“Yes?”

“Brigadier Abrax has requested your presence.”

Nila frowned over toward Abrax. The brigadier had exited her tent and was standing just thirty paces off, staring balefully at the Kez army. Why hadn’t she just come over herself? “Of course.”

Nila joined Abrax in front of the command tent. “You wished to see me, ma’am?”

“Is it still a secret that you’re a Privileged?”

Nila blinked back at her. “I… well, I assume so. Bo said that I was still too green for my aura to show in the Else, so the enemy Knacked or Privileged shouldn’t know I’m here.”

“The enemy has no Privileged. Or,” Abrax corrected herself, “the ones they do have amount to very little. None of the mountain throwers of the royal cabal.” She turned to Nila suddenly. “Have you told anyone?”

“No.”

“Keep it that way. You’re to be our trump card.”

Nila couldn’t help but laugh at that. She stifled it as best she could, but it still leaked out as a giggle.

“Something funny, Privileged?”

Privileged. Being addressed as such sent a shiver down Nila’s spine, sobering her instantly. “It’s just that I’m only a trainee. I’ve barely learned to look into the Else, let alone command the elements. I won’t be any help at all in a fight.”

“You can’t do
any
sorcery?” Abrax sounded skeptical.

“I can light my hand on fire. But only when I get very startled or angry.”

Abrax turned away, looking slightly disgusted. “We have some Privileged, but they’re very weak. They won’t do much more damage than a well-placed field gun and they’re far more fragile. Borbador told me you were powerful. I’d hoped you’d be of some help.”

Bo had said that to Abrax? Why on earth? Nila was untrained, and Bo knew that better than anyone.

“I’m sorry,” Nila ventured.

“I didn’t realize you were
that
green. Stay back with the baggage. You’ll do nothing but get underfoot near the front. And whatever you do, don’t attempt any sorcery. You’ll likely kill everyone around you. It’s unfortunate your bloody master abandoned us. He might have tipped this in our favor.” Abrax strode away without another word, barking orders.

Nila stared after her, indignation warring with a sense of helplessness. Bo
had
abandoned her. She knew just enough to know that maybe, with a few months more training, she could have defended herself. But she couldn’t be of any use here. She was no better than the rest of the camp followers – part of the luggage. She was back to being with the laundresses and all the rest.

Abrax could go to the pit. If – when – the Kez broke the line, Nila
would
fight. She didn’t care if she took the whole baggage train with her.

The baggage and camp were about a quarter of a mile behind the front line. The area had been fortified with hastily dug entrenchments and was guarded by a brigade of Wings of Adom mercenaries stretched out – to Nila’s eye – over far too much ground.

The camp followers had been ordered to stay behind when the Wings had marched to General Ket’s aid, but even so there had to be several thousand people with the baggage, essential personnel such as wagoners, quartermasters, and the like.

“Shouldn’t you be near the front?”

Nila turned to find Inspector Adamat sitting on the ground nearby, looking older and wearier than he had just a few days before.

“Abrax sent me back here. I don’t have enough training to be useful.”

“Ah. I suppose that’s true enough.” He smiled as if to soften the comment. “I’m too old to be of any use.”

“I’ve seen infantrymen with ten years or more on you.”

“I haven’t held a rifle in line since drills at the academy. I’m more likely to stick my bayonet into the man beside me than I am to be of any use up there.”

Nila wondered if that were the case. She knew that Adamat had led the charge against Lord Vetas’s men. He was more than capable. Perhaps he’d used his age as a pretense to avoid the front. Nila wouldn’t have blamed him. Courage, Bo had told her, was overrated.

Adamat certainly didn’t look frightened. Just tired. He stared at his feet for a few moments, then raised his head. “They don’t have enough men back here to guard the rear.”

“I was told an entire brigade.”

“The Kez will flank us to the west while General Hilanska hits us from the northeast. I predict this position will be overrun by” – he glanced at his pocket watch – “one o’clock. If we’re lucky, we’ll be killed outright.” He fingered his cane as if he were wondering how much of a fight he had left in him.

“Lucky? I thought it would be preferable to be taken prisoner.”

He gave her a skeptical look. “Of course.”

If we survive, he’ll be sent to a Kez workhouse. And I’ll be passed around the infantry until I’m sent to a workhouse as well. Unless an officer catches me first. Then I’ll be at his mercy, little more than a slave.
 

Was that preferable to being killed outright?

Adamat climbed to his feet. The Wings’ field artillery had begun to fire, and even at a quarter mile, the sound shook Nila. She remembered the fighting in Adopest between Tamas’s men and the royalists and the countless sleepless nights she’d had after escaping. This was going to be so much worse.

“The sound gets to me, too,” Adamat said. “Infantrymen might get used to it, but we’re just civilians. Artillery is terrifying.”

“Like Privileged.”

“Yes. Like Privileged.” He examined her out of the corner of his eye.

Nila pretended not to notice.
Yes
, she wanted to say,
I am a Privileged. But I can’t
do
anything yet.

A distant sound caught Nila’s ear. It was hard to hear beneath the report of the artillery fire, but she knew it immediately when she turned toward the Kez lines. It was the
rat-tat-tat
of snare drums. The Kez columns, infantry in their tens of thousands, were advancing.

The lump in Nila’s throat felt like she had swallowed a carriage. She’d never been this terrified, not even beneath Vetas’s threats.

She wondered if Jakob was getting along well with Adamat’s children. He was a good boy, still far too young to manage on his own. “Will Faye take care of Jakob after I die?” she asked.

“You won’t die,” Adamat said halfheartedly. After a pause, he added, “She’s not the type to turn out a child.”

Nila gave a soft sigh of relief. “I didn’t think so, but I don’t know her all that well.”

Several moments passed as they watched the Kez continue to advance into the onslaught of artillery fire. “How the bloody pit did I end up here?” Adamat muttered.

Nila didn’t think it was meant to be heard. What was going on in the old inspector’s head? Was he thinking of his children? Or was he trying to think of a way out? Nila knew that’s how she should have been thinking. She glanced toward the lazy fields to their northwest. Maybe she could run for it. Hide in some farmer’s wheat field until nightfall and then strike out toward Adopest.

It was worth a shot. Wasn’t it?

The sight of something moving out there on the plains killed her hasty plans.

“There are soldiers out there,” Nila said. Adamat turned and gazed toward the northwest for a few moments, squinting.

“Cavalry.” He spit in the dirt and turned toward the closest Wings officer, but it was plain they had already spotted the enemy. A ripple of panic went up among the brigade guarding the camp, and officers had to shout to drown it out.

Adran cavalry. Nila had no idea of their number, but they took her breath away. There must have been thousands. Breastplates glittered in the sun and their Adran-blue jackets and red-striped pants stood out against the tan fields of grain. They must have circled around far to the north and were now blocking the only avenue of retreat.

A Wings colonel sent a messenger running for the front lines. The colonel’s face was pale and she gripped her belt with white-knuckled intensity.

Adamat gave a resigned sigh. “I guess that was predictable,” he said. “Looks like at least three battalions of cuirassiers.”

“Cuirassiers?”

“Heavy cavalry. You can tell by the breastplate. Adran cuirassiers armor their horses as well.” Adamat pointed to the Wings’ infantry as they fell into lines behind the waist-high breastworks that were their only defense. “They’ll break a thin bayonet line like this one without too much problem.”

Adamat headed closer to the rear of the camp, where the Wings’ infantry were preparing to make their stand. Nila hesitated for a moment and then followed him.

The Wings’ colonel gave him a glance as he approached. “Civilians should keep away from the front,” she said.

“The front is that way,” Adamat said, pointing behind him.

“Tighten up your men, Cronier,” the colonel shouted. “If a single man runs, I’ll gut him myself!” She looked at Adamat and Nila once more but refrained from commenting.

The Adran cuirassiers drew closer. They were taking their time and it wasn’t until they stopped some half mile away that Nila realized they were likely waiting for a signal from General Hilanska. They would charge the rear right as the Kez charged the front.

Looking back to the south, she noted that the Kez were still advancing at a slow, methodical rate. The Wings’ artillery left scars throughout their ranks, but it seemed to have no more effect than would scratching a giant. They just kept coming on.

On the hill to their northeast, General Hilanska’s infantry suddenly surged forward, advancing at a pace just faster than the Kez.

To the northwest, some three thousand cuirassiers began to advance at a trot.

It seemed to Nila as if she could see her death advancing across those fields. The cuirassiers were really rather splendid, if she considered them without regard to her life. They moved in perfect coordination, the plumes on their horses’ heads and the feathers in their steel helmets blowing with the breeze. She wondered if the ground really was shaking, or if it was just her imagination.

“Over there,” Adamat said, his voice coming out a dry croak, “to the west. Looks like a battalion of Adran lancers.”

She knew that term. More cavalry. Lightly armed.

“They’ll swing around and hit our front lines from the west,” the Wings’ colonel said. She immediately dispatched another messenger to the front, just as the first messenger returned.

The messenger saluted. “Brigadier Abrax orders you to hold your fire.”

“Hold my —” The colonel’s face turned red. “Hold my fire? What the pit is that supposed to mean? Those cuirassiers will crush us!” She sent the messenger back to the front and fumed silently.

Nila tore her gaze away from the advancing cuirassiers. To the northwest, the Adran artillery batteries suddenly belched flame and smoke, their barrels pointed toward the Wings’ encampment. Nila squeezed her eyes shut, remembering the terrible whistling of cannon fire at the royalist barricades, and waited for the horrible sound.