Chapter Thirty-Five: Cold Harbor
The night after our retreat, Julie and I hid ourselves away in camp. I felt bone crushing shame over the defeat. I walked around dazed by it, shellshocked that everything had gone so wrong so early. I went through the necessary motions for setting our camp on automatic, while I watched Julie do the same where dealing with the backlash was concerned. The army was still together, but for how long, I wasn't sure. The myth of our invincibility had been broken, and both of us knew it.
We had both come to the same thought. As soon as the sky was a deep blue, we ran into each other at the wagon containing what we both thought we would need. Without so much as a word, we agreed to work together and took what we needed to a supply tent quietly. As quietly as one could haul large metal boxes along the ground, carrying packs. It would not be long before someone came looking for us for one reason or another. We needed to be ready before anyone could stop us.
I cracked open the boxes, and we started loading up.
We stripped down to our smallclothes, and helped each other layer one another from there. Fresh fatigues. Kevlar plate-carrier armour vests. Combat webbing, knee and shin pads, black boots. I felt better with each thing I put on, the natural weight seeming to relieve that which was all in my head. The understanding of what we were to attempt was almost like a drug against the shame.
We both sat down on stools by the metal boxes, and opened them. The weapons within stood in tidy rows, ready to be loaded and used. Only now did a thread of rationality cross me.
"We need to talk," I said.
"I'm doing this," Julie replied instantly, pulling a firelance from a box.
"So am I," I continued, "But we need to talk about how."
Julie eyed me briefly, like I was talking nonsense. She searched the boxes for a moment, before hefting the precision firelance out of the 'bed box' we usually kept underneath our bed in Hearth. She carefully gave it to me, and when it was in my arms, pointed to it.
"You use that to do what needs to be done," she said, "I keep anything else off your back with this."
She lightly slapped the side of the firelance balanced across her lap.
"That's the plan," she concluded, "We do it and come back alive."
To say that it was a long shot is both a bad pun and an underestimation of the challenges we would face. But it was as good a plan as any.
To signal my agreement, I held out four loaded magazines. Julie smiled with her mouth, but it didn't spread to her eyes. She took the offered items and began stuffing them into the pouches. I threw over another, which she caught in mid-air and snapped it into place in the firelance itself. A dramatic pull of its bolt followed. It was ready, and so were we.
We continued loading up, closing up the boxes as we finished with them. I grabbed Patel's own firelance, a shorter one, and passed out the last of the grenades I had from Earth. We hung them from our armour. We stood up and put on our helmets.
"You got your goggles?" I asked.
Julie held up the night vision goggles, and snapped them to the front of her helmet as she had seen me do a dozen times.
"You know how to use them?"
She nodded. "I remember you doing it."
"Good," I said, "Let's see if the coast is clear."
We went to the cloth partition serving as the door of the tent, rounding a few supply crates. Julie bade me to stop a few feet from it, and moved it slightly to peek outside.
"Merde," she said, backing off from it.
Before I could ask, in burst Tam, still in her own Earth-panoply. Her face was crestfallen, eyes wide and mouth flat. A knife of guilt went through me.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
Julie and I exchanged a glance. We couldn't say it.
"You are dressed for battle," Tam stated.
"We are," Julie admitted.
Tam put her head in her hands. "Please tell me that you do not intend what I think you do."
The pressure built, and I felt the knife of guilt twist in my chest. It was too much.
"We're going to assassinate Gaspard, Duval... Remache if we can," I said quietly, "Set up on the road and wait until they pass. Take them out and run."
Tam stared at me like I had two heads. "That's suicide. You both know so, and I won't let you do it."
What we thought of as our last option taken from us. Julie buckled. She dropped her firelance, fell to her knees and sobbed. Tears began streaming down her face in a flood, but she made very little noise. It sent a shudder down my spine. It hadn't been a good month for Julie, to say the least. Both Tam and I scrambled to her.
Tam took her in a hug, and held her close. "It's alright," she soothed, "We'll get through this."
"We led them to defeat, all because we wanted vengeance," Julie whimpered, "Gaspard will kill us all."
"No he won't," Tam said firmly, "You two will think of something to save us, without sacrificing yourselves on some insane chance."
Threading my hand with Julie's for safety, I felt compelled to try and explain.
"It's the only path we can see," I choked out, "If we cut the head off the snake, maybe we can negotiate with Celene using Briala as a go-between, or..." Complete bullshit, even I knew it was as I spoke the thought.
Tam's violet eyes pierced me, and I shut my damn mouth. "You can't negotiate if you are dead," she said, "And who will lead us when you are? Ciara is too young, Briala hasn't earned the trust of our army, de Villars is a noble, the other officers don't have your experience... You are our only hope."
Our Qunari lover drew me into the embrace. She kissed Julie softly, and me afterwards.
"Tomorrow, you will command as if nothing happened," she stated, matter-of-factly, "You will assure every man and woman out there with your confidence. Even if you cannot bring victory, you will save their lives at the very least. Do you understand?"
I wasn't entirely sure if I could do that, but I gulped the doubt down. "I do," I said, rallying.
Julie's green irises emerged from Tam's shoulder. "So do I," she sniffled.
"Good," Tam said, rising, "Now that is settled, you both need sleep. Come."
We got to our feet, not bothering to shed our armour and weapons. Tam brought us by the hand out of the tent, where Armen, Ciara and Leha were waiting. Armen gave a single nod. Ciara let out a loud, relieved breath. Leha saluted with her flask, and took a swig. I snatched it out of her hand, took one myself, and gave it back.
"Better?" the dwarf asked.
"You have no idea," I sighed.
Armen leaned forwards on his staff towards me. "No matter what, we've got your back," he said sternly, "Don't forget that." The unspoken admonishment for leaving them out of the plot sitting there on the table, unaddressed in words but obvious to us all.
"We won't," Julie said, gaining back some of her usual assured tone.
With that said, the other three wandered off. There was no need for any more discussion on it, provided we kept our promise the next morning. Tam managed to slip us back into our own tent without any notice. Everyone else must have been exhausted or too demoralised to stay awake too, as the camp's thoroughfares were empty and the lookouts atop the Imperial Highway were the only visible people at all.
We piled up what we had put on in a chest, unloading the weapons first, and fell into bed. I hit a deep sleep in minutes, despite the camp cot we had being too small for three people, Tam using my stomach and Julie using my shoulder as pillows. At least it was warm. It was early September now, the night humidity had broken and the evening chill had begun.
I had a dream that I was swallowed by a whale repeatedly, each instance sending me to a different time and place until again the whale would come. It wasn't a nightmare... but it wasn't a good dream either.
As we had went to sleep early, I woke early, confused about the dream. Yet I felt immensely better about myself. The guilt and shame had subsided significantly, leaving my chest and throat feeling more free, letting me breath easier.
My waking had the knock-on effect of bringing both Tam and Julie out of their slumber. There just wasn't any room for movement, so the slightest jerk from one of us had the other two moaning objections. A general idea of what I was to do that day formed as I untangled myself from my lovers.
The first step was simple. I washed up a little, went to the chest again, and put on the whole panoply of fatigues, armour and weapons again. Julie observed me out of a cracked eyelid as I finished up, which opened wider when she realised what I had done. I snorted amusement at her worry.
"No need to fear," I said quietly, "I'm not running off to go alone. Just presenting myself as a soldier should."
"It's about time we got up," Julie groaned, "Wait a few and we'll join you."
I watched the two of them do as I had, thanking the Maker that I had such people in my life, and gathered my thoughts.
Duval had delayed us just long enough for Gaspard to arrive in force, though the exact size of the army facing us remained a mystery. It was larger than ours, double at the very least. We had lost the initiative, that much was clear. Getting it back meant getting in and kicking the shit out of them at every point they advanced from now on, making them pay for every yard of ground with blood.
The problem was that there wasn't enough space to do it. To my mind, Halamshiral was the prize to take, and it wasn't twenty miles away from where I was standing at the time. Sure, the city is surrounded by foothills, excellent for our artillery, not to mention the river over which there was only one bridge. The man who would be Emperor had enough troops to pin the entire Free Army in place, while sending Duval around our positions with cavalry to occupy the hills and bridge. We wouldn't be able to retreat safely and quickly enough to stop him.
I came to a conclusion.
Leaving the girls to it, I exited the tent to find Soprano, Mike and McNulty waiting, the latter yawning wider than any man I had ever seen. The other two stood to attention, faces grim, followed by the third as soon as he noticed me.
I ignored them for a moment, and took note of the bustle of the camp. The soldiers were far from asleep now, moving about with packs, loading up their ponies or horses, tossing dismantled tents onto carts. They didn't seem depressed, but it wasn't like our soldiers to express their discontent openly. Discipline had been instilled in the majority of them, and the volunteers from Halamshiral were most likely all too aware of the threat now facing their city.
"The Free Army awaits your command, my lord," said Mike, in her customary booming voice, "We will be ready to move in a half hour. Our scouts report the enemy are breaking camp themselves." It took me a few seconds, but I realised she was trying to cheer me up by assuring me that the army could still be called that.
"Thank you, general," I said slowly, "You'll take most of our people and the National Guard back to Halamshiral. You're to prepare a defence of the hills, the Highway's bridge over the river, and the city itself."
"What about us, my lord?" Soprano said, "I get the implication that the Peacekeepers won't be joining the others."
"No," I said, "We'll take all the firelancers from the Free Army, and stick to Gaspard's force like a tick on a dog."
"Doesn't that mean we'll be outnumbered," McNulty said, not phrasing it as a question, "By something like ten to one, at least."
"Seven thousand soldiers are a lot easier to move than seventy thousand, Colonel," I replied, "Considering we have horses for everyone and the supplies, we'll be able to strike, move, and strike again whenever we want. They'll besiege Halamshiral, and we'll bleed them from the outside as they throw themselves against the walls."
"What about Celene?" Soprano asked, "Won't that be almost impossible once the Royal Army joins Gaspard?"
"Celene is two weeks away, assuming she can reassert control of the navy. She and Gaspard hate each other," I said, "If we weaken Gaspard enough, Celene may take the opportunity to crush him. Briala has informed us that the Grand-Duke is jumping the queue by attacking us himself. Then we may only have to fight the Empress' forces."
Soprano frowned. "That's too good to be true," she said.
"You may be right," I said, "But we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. For now, Gaspard is the concern. Every soldier we kill increases the chances of him holding off, at least until the Empress arrives. Since we won't be fighting far from our capital, we can raise every able-bodied person willing to fight. Gaspard's men will undoubtedly wreck havoc on people's homes if they get near, it shouldn't be too hard to convince them to fight."
The sound of horse hooves on soil drew my attention away from my subordinates. Major Isewen was riding hard through the camp, scattering all before her. Frustrated, I rubbed the bridge of my nose. Such an arrival could only mean news, and it was unlikely to be good news.
"Viceroy, our scouts have seen the enemy's own scouts move off," the Major reported, "They've left their pickets and are not coming towards us."
My heart jumped. "Are they withdrawing?" I asked.
"No, they're moving south," Isewen replied, "Spreading out along all the roads in that direction as fast as they can."
I froze in place, not from shock but from the sudden understanding.
"Gaspard doesn't care about Halamshiral," I thought aloud, "He's a military man. For all its worth, it's not the centre of the rebellion."
"Hearth," said Mike, "He's going for Hearth."
"Smart man," I said, "He won't have any trouble crossing rivers or hill country if he comes from the north east."
"No shortage of forests through that way, though," Soprano added, "We'll be able to hit him a lot easier."
"After Lady Doucy's old turf, sure," I agreed, recalling the likely routes from one of the old maps in Pierre's collection, "But he'll be able to use alternative routes if we block one."
"I presume this means I'm not going to Halamshiral?" Mike asked.
Tam and Julie emerged from the tent, dressed , to find us all huddled together. They approached, and the others bowed to Julie as apparently was proper. She bowed in turn. Their arrival gave me an idea.
"Yeah," I replied at last, "Slight change of plan."
A week later, a few miles outside the town of Vindargent.
It's beautiful country, that part of the Western Dales. Unlike anything I had seen, really. It was tamed, a garden, rather than possessing the less refined charm of the farms stuck between deep forest that the rest of the region has. It was open as you could get, right up until the forests began again about fifty yards to my back. In summer, you'd see vines growing everywhere, but the harvest had been completed early that year. The threat of marching armies eating it up was a little too real to ignore.
Despite all this beauty, my eyes were fixated on something else. Under the shade of a huge oak, its leaves turned red and gold of fall, a collection of burned wood and metal by the side of the road. The road itself was charred. These remains were the reason why I had chosen this ground, or at least why I had chosen it out of a selection of similar points. The bodies had been removed for a more complete cremation, so there was no bones or cooked flesh to be seen, but that hardly mattered. The place was haunted, or at least, I hoped it was.
It was the exact place where Lady Camille Doucy, Baronne des Nouveaux-Landes, had been trapped in her carriage and burned alive. With her children and her coachman.
No better place to make the Peacekeepers' first stand against the Grand-Duke's forces. I was no scholar where the Fade is concerned, but in choosing the site of a vicious set of homicides committed with the purpose of stopping us, I thought perhaps we might get aid from the other side in some small way. If not an actual intervention by spirits, then that my men and women would fight harder when standing upon the ground where the crime against humanity had been perpetrated.
I shifted my attention down the road and across the fields that Duval would send his men at us. It was ten in the morning by my watch, and there was still no sign. Blondie and Isewen had been dispatched forward with our cavalry to make sure the royalists would follow the right route. I kicked the dirt of the road. I was getting impatient.
A flapping sound distracted me.
Searching for the source, I found myself being stared at. On a lower branch of the oak tree, a white headed eagle sat, golden eyes tracking my movement. One of the eagles that had perched on Julie's warhammer at Sahrnia, to be exact. It had to be, though it was a very strange coincidence. I tilted my head in thought, and the bird did the exact same thing.
"Now, what are you doing here?" I chuckled, unable to help myself.
The eagle straightened its head again, not making a sound. Eagles don't tend to be chatty. I crossed my arms and watched it for a few minutes. Between cleaning its feathers and scanning the surroundings by turning its white head, it didn't do anything offensive. I should have been bored, or worrying about more pressing matters, but I was captured by the creature. It was handsome, and its reason for being there was an intriguing mystery.
One that was brought to a close shortly, as two small corpses fell from the sky onto the ground a little way in front of me. I jumped on the spot, taken completely by surprise. They landed on the blackened part of the road, perfectly. A little mangled, I still recognised them for what they were by their large ears. Two fennecs, the fox-like animals that infested every part of the Dales and beyond.
I looked up, searching for where they came from. The shadow of another eagle, the dark-golden feathers telling me what I suspected. The other eagle from Sahrnia circled downwards in a spiral. Its white-headed companion flapped its wings and sailed down too, both of them meeting at the fennecs. Together, they began gorging themselves, ripping the dead prey apart with claw and beak. I watched them with a strange sense of satisfaction, the soft sound of tearing flesh the only noise heard over the heaving of the leaves behind. It was hypnotic.
"It's an omen," said a voice from behind.
This time, I didn't jump at the unexpected presence. It was Tiberius, and upon checking, I saw that Briala was with him as well. Both were now dressed in the restrained green garb of the Free Army, the former as a disguise for his actual allegiance and the latter as a display of her commitment to her new one. I approved, enough so to actually reply to the magister's seemingly ridiculous statement.
"Is it?" I said, eyeing the eagles again, "Just seems like lunch to me."
"Does it?" Tiberius asked, levelling his eyes at me.
"Alright, I recognise them," I admitted, "Doesn't mean anything. The birds have been following Julie around for months now."
"Madame Marteau is not here," Tiberius noted.
"No... so?" I said, "What brings you out here?"
"You've been gone some time," Tiberius replied, "Your warriors are beginning to wonder what you are doing."
"So you invited yourself to find out," I said.
"No, I came to speak privately," Tiberius said, "I brought Briala. We are in agreement about something that you need to address."
I looked at Briala for confirmation. She remained passive. Not wanting to admit anything in common with the magister, no doubt.
"Well, what is it?" I asked, folding my hands on top of the butt of my firelance.
"You have lost," Tiberius said, "You may not yet know it, but the war you envisaged is over."
Heat rising to my face, I stormed over to the magister.
"Don't push your luck, Tiberius," I said as calmly as I could, "This war isn't over until I'm as dead as those fennecs over there." Anything less would have been the most grave insult to those who had died for our cause. It was the notion of giving up when so many had been sacrificed already that pushed me to rage.
Tiberius met my gaze without flinching, anything less would have been truly surprising. The man had been at war longer than I had been alive. But it wasn't an effortless defiance. Of all the beings on Thedas, the magister had unique reasons to fear me. His magic could not harm me, and at an arm's reach, I could do much to hurt him. He remained silent, which calmed me a good deal. He wasn't apologising, but he had not meant to offend.
"You misunderstood, Viceroy," Briala explained, "What we mean to say is that your strategy will make you lose. I propose a different one."
I turned my head to look at her, and found something like alarm in her eyes. I also spotted Felassan lurking close by, where he had not been before. I had scared them both. Finally containing myself, I backed off from Tiberius, eliciting a sigh of relief from the man.
"Best get talking then," I said, crossing my arms.
"Gaspard will take Hearth," Briala explained, "He has too many troops for you to resist, and ..."
"We are gathering all the former men-at-arms of the nobles," I cut-in, "We might not have a hundred thousand, but we will have enough to break any siege."
"If you can gather them in one place, in enough time," Tiberius said, "Listen to her, and then complain."
I grumbled, but waved my fingers for her to continue.
"You need to do battle in the elven way; fight on the run," Briala said, getting right to the point, "If you choose a place that you refuse to give up, Gaspard will take it with his numbers, or Celene with hers if you manage beat him."
"Asymmetrical warfare," I thought aloud, "It wouldn't be a bad idea, except Gaspard would not hesitate to kill everyone in any area we hid in." Indeed he would not.
"He'd use the threat of that to get the location of our soldiers out of locals," I continued, "The war is too hot now, it won't work."
"You have many mages, Sam," Tiberius replied, "I can teach them techniques that allow them to hide large numbers of people, or even whole villages if they work together." Which meant we could probably have hidden Hearth, though it was so large by that point that it would have been a huge feat of magic. And it wasn't like people wouldn't know where to stake out the roads to it. Still, it was a good offer, but as always with Tiberius, it was for his agenda.
"Here it comes," I said, "What price do you ask for teaching us this?"
"You know what price," Tiberius urged, "There is no need for you to leave for Tevinter. Indeed, without you, this movement you have created would fall. Stay and lead your people, I will remain here to help you. Take Aurelia as your bride, keep those dear to you close, and together we will bring down the Empress and the Grand-Duke."
I rubbed my temples, not sure how to respond. This was the first time I seriously considered the offer. I had no choice but to do so. Seeing my battle plan at Lydes fall to pieces, and ten thousand of my soldiers taken away in chains, it had changed me. The sense of immortality I had felt after deflecting the magic of hundreds of mages, after crushing the armies of the Emprise, it was gone. I hated my new-found vulnerability.
But still, I could not accept his offer. I didn't consider my life as belonging to myself alone any more, plus it was two birds, one stone for Tevinter if I did agree.
"No," I said at last, "We're not there yet."
Tiberius took it well for someone with a bug up his ass about the issue. "I will remain with the army until you see it is the only way," he said.
"I'd appreciate that," I said, "Whatever else, you're welcome to stay. We need every bit of help we can get."
Tiberius bowed and left, walking up the road towards the forest and our army, brushing close by Felassan as he did so. The Dalish mage made a disgusted face at the magister, but it didn't result in anything. I can only imagine that pleased him greatly. What a collection of allies I had, I thought to myself as I watched.
"Viceroy," Briala said, "I hope you know what you are doing."
"Look, your idea is a good one, but I have to try it this way first," I said, "I can't abandon people in the villages and towns to the mercy of Gaspard's chevaliers for strategic reasons. I have to try and beat him first. Anything less and we're admitting weakness. That would be terrible for morale, and we're already beat to hell on that front. We'd pay for it in blood too."
"For what it's worth, I still believe we can win," Briala said, "I am sure many feel the same. Just don't risk everything."
"I'll try," I said in what I hoped was a reassuring tone.
The eagles flapped away, up into the sky, a signal of the arrival of another visitor to my lonely picket. Grand-Cleric Brandon on horseback no less, red and white robes and all.
"Viceroy!" she called as she came on, "News from Hearth."
My mood lifted, and I waved her over. She dismounted, and with a glance at Briala, joined us.
"Good news, I hope," I said.
"Oh yes," she said, "Hearth, Halamshiral, the Wolf's Lair, les Grandes-Collines, and le Midi have all began preparations for sieges. The changes you proposed to Hearth's defences have begun, and your tools are being moved inside the walls. Blackpowder is being made day and night... the High-Chancellor and the Qunari send their love."
I snorted with amusement at the last part of the message. No way that was what was said.
"You mean the High-Chancellor and the Qunari are still angry for sending them away from the fight," I corrected, "But in their heart it is because they're afraid for my safety."
"As you say, Viceroy," Brandon replied with a smile.
"See Briala, all hope isn't lost," I added, "I suggest you go get something to eat. The eagles had their lunch, it's time we had ours. I'll follow in a minute."
The elf bowed only slightly, and left, falling in with Felassan a little bit down the road, leaving me alone with the Grand-Cleric.
"Mother Brandon, I have a question," I said, "Regarding faith."
"Such questions are why I am who I am," Brandon replied enthusiastically, "Speak, child, for I will reveal what wisdom is granted to me."
"You believe the Maker is on our side," I said, "Yet we were defeated at Lydes. Would the Maker allow us to be defeated completely?"
Brandon frowned, no doubt suspecting my doubts were eating at me. To be honest, it was simply a matter of curiosity to me. I didn't find God all that helpful on a battlefield to begin with, his agenda higher than the life of any one person or nation. But it was important to get the perspective of someone who was deeply involved with keeping the morale of my people up.
"I regret to say that, yes, the Maker would allow us to taste ultimate defeat," she intoned gravely, before picking up, "However, he would only do so if it served our cause in some greater fashion. For instance, were we to lose and become martyrs, perhaps it would ignite the hearts of our fellow Orlesians into seeing the truth of our cause, or the tyranny of our enemies."
I hummed my acceptance of the idea. The assassinations of so many prominent patriots and ordinary citizens who got in the way had been the source of much new support.
"There is no greater love than this," I quoted, "That one should lay down his life for his friends."
Brandon nodded, recognising wisdom when she heard it. Though I doubt she would have approved of its source in John 15, one of the few parts of the Bible I recall.
Further discussion was cut off by the thumping of multiple horses' hooves from the direction of the rolling, empty vinyards. Louise de Villars and her company of chevaliers were riding hard towards us. The enemy would be upon us soon.
Considering Tiberius' own words on the subject of supernatural aid, I looked up into the cloudy sky again. Sure enough, the eagles were still up there, watching over us.
"If you'll excuse me," I said, watching the birds, "I have a battle to win."
The delay in the royalists' arrival was to allow them to form up out of range of our cannon.
Within fifteen minutes of our cavalry returning, the fields at the horizon were filled with banners moving forward, heralding the arrival of the battalions holding them. On they came, step by step. Through my binoculars, I could see the whole mass of them.
Crossbowmen advanced in loose order in front, hugging cover. Duval's influence was fairly obvious there. The sword and pike troops followed in wide, close formations. The cavalry stayed back, as far back as they thought would provide safety from our weapons. They were dressed in tabards of various colours, but they all had white and green ribbons flying from the top of their banners, indicating their allegiance to Gaspard. McNulty's estimates weren't far off either. There had to be seventy thousand coming straight at us at least.
We were indeed outnumbered a little less than ten to one; seven thousand firelancers, three hundred mages, three hundred Grenadiers, three hundred Rangers, three hundred Lancers, one hundred and fifty chevaliers, and thirty five cannon. They were arranged in a semi-circle formation at the edge of the dense forest, bulging outwards, with the mages in the centre on the road nearest the enemy and the artillery at the forty-five degree points on either end of the curve. Our cavalry and the horses we had used to move everyone were to the rear, away from any possible fighting (to Blondie's chagrin).
Thankfully, our battle plan didn't require anything like even numbers. In fact, any more than what we had would have impeded us. The realisation that we had just the right amount to deal with what was being thrown at us
I put away my binoculars as soon as I was sure we could begin.
"Here we go," I said.
"May the Maker protect us," Velarana replied. I glanced to her, seeing Armen's disapproval expressed in the lack of smirk on his face. Barris closed his eyes and mumbled a prayer of his own, his gauntlet-shielded hands held together in front of his plate armour.
"Hopefully, we won't need protection," I said.
"The Libertarian and Aequitarian regiments stand ready, my lord," Velarana reported, ignoring the other two.
"Great," I said, "The enemy are in range. Inform the Tranquil they can start."
Velarana summoned a runner, and passed them the message. Of course, the runner was a mage too, and instead of mounting a horse, he zipped by in a flash of white and red robe, leaving behind a trail of ice on the ground. Seemed like a waste of magical energy to me.
"Shouldn't he be saving himself for the fight?" I asked, pointing after the man.
"He is not a powerful mage," Velarana replied evenly, "But he is very adept at the use of the Fade step." With a mental note that she was not one to waste human resources, contrary to my image of her, I shrugged and resumed my watch of the enemy.
They had not picked up the pace, but were moving towards us rather than forwards. I smirked. They had made a mistake there. It have been hard to hack through the woods to either side in order to surround us, but that was an infinitely more wise move than moving their troops closer together as they were. All except for the crossbowmen in front, they stayed nicely spread out. I immediately tagged them as being under Duval's personal command.
The cannons boomed almost as one, sending their shells forwards with a wave of acrid smoke. Seconds later, explosions burst among the close infantry battalions, tearing visibly blood holes in the royalist line. The Tranquil had followed their orders in their usual fashion, in this instance to fire at the best targets for maximum casualties. That meant ignoring the tangle of loose archers in front.
As expected, the royalists wavered for a moment. I took a breath, glad that we hadn't lost our reputation for sheer damned murder in the defeat at Lydes. I turned to Armen and gave him a slap on the shoulder, and we both started laughing, the tension that had built during the wait relieved somewhat.
"What are they doing?" Barris asked. I whipped around to watch again, and saw what he meant. I checked via my binoculars to be sure.
"They're narrowing," I said, "And not maintaining their formation."
The second volley of the cannons rang out, obscuring a good view of the advancing enemy for a moment. When the vapours cleared, I saw that we had killed even more than the first volley had, but it hadn't slowed the advance.
"They're moving swiftly, my lord," Velarana said, "More swiftly than anticipated."
"Not a problem," Armen said, "More meat for the firelances."
I grimaced. It was true, but not enough so to remove worry. I balanced my heavy firelance on my hip, checked the belt feed and cocked it. No need for delays there. The enemy was getting close enough to pick out individual soldiers.
Four more slaughtering volleys from the cannons, and the enemy crossbows were finally in range. And we were in range of them.
"Tranquil, one more barrage and then retreat to the rear," I said to Velarana, before activating my radio, "Soprano, McNulty, volley fire."
The affirmations came as Velarana's runner swept off in a flurry of snowflakes to deliver the orders. Our troops, previously well disguised in the foliage, revealed themselves. Seconds later, the crackles of musketry started at the edges of the line, sweeping like a Mexican wave and growing in volume as they approached us. The cannons added their wrath at the end, like a period at the end of a sentence.
There were a lot of bodies in the fields, but still, the enemy rolled forwards over their dead. I shook my head. Such feats of bravery are rare, but in this case, it was plain suicidal. Even without our last move yet unmade.
"They've got stones, I'll give them that," I said, "Are we ready?"
"Yes, my lord," Velarana said.
"Good," I said, "Barriers up."
"BARRIERS!" Armen roared.
The mages raised their staves, the whole middle of our line glowing a soft blue. There was a brief but overwhelming scent of ozone, displaced again seconds later by the nearest firelancers giving another crackling volley at a throng of royalist archers. Soon, the glow faded, leaving only a faint blue sheen on our magical troops and the Templars.
Of course, the effect shattered around me, glass-like remnants flying off back into the Fade. I was the only one unprotected, but with the green cloth covers over my desert camo, it wasn't like anyone could know. My confidence swelled in my chest.
Our artillery had moved off, and the firelancers did not lack for targets. With breathing space at last, the enemy began to fight back. Bolts hissed through the air around me, filling the space between the sounds of the volleys.
The high-pitched pinging of the impacts off of the magical barriers set my teeth on edge. I took a step to the side, half behind Armen. I got a snort and a small flash of lightning for my trouble. Not that either hurt me, and it certainly saved me from a pair of nasty looking bolts that came down where my feet had been seconds earlier.
The radio crackled, echoing the sound of gunfire. "We are taking casualties," McNulty said through the din, "Orders?"
He wasn't panicking, not yet, but even I could sense there was a danger to the situation. One I couldn't quite quantify yet. The air had gone heavy again.
I took out my binoculars and looked. Without the cannon to tear them to shreds, the swords and spears were advancing at a rapid pace. They were taking losses similar to what they had been when it was just explosive shots raining down on them, but they were spread out and intermittent. Without the shock of half their buddies all going at the same time, there was a new boldness to them. Worse, the crossbows behind the stone walls were giving them very effective covering fire.
Even at three shots a minute, we weren't killing them fast enough. My jaw clenched, I shoved my binoculars back into its place. We needed to make them doubt. And there was an obvious route towards doing that.
"Mages," I growled, "Come with me."
I stepped forward and broke into a ran straight up the road. Not bothering to check if the mages would actually follow me.
The reaction of the enemy told me enough. Lots of pointing and shouting by archers and sergeants, all trying to get a bead on me. Or more likely, those behind me. By the time I reached the oak tree and the burned carriage, there was a horizontal rain of wooden shafts with pointy metal heads. And a large battalion of infantry were rushing to meet us, just for kicks.
I dove to the ground, beside the pink bones of the dead fennecs, and set my firelance on its bipod. I set the sights on the men coming towards me.
They seemed to stop and scatter, and my brow inched upwards. Smart men. I adjusted my aim one last time to fire.
Armen beat me to it, skidding to a halt beside me and unleashing the granddaddy of the lightning bolt he had tickled me with minutes before. The thunderclap shook through to my very core, and the electricity struck the men. A number fell dead, puppets with their strings cut. The others began convulsing, struggling to maintain their faculties as death approached. I couldn't watch it.
I pulled the trigger and put them out of their misery, with a number of controlled bursts. The tracers tracked into each group, and the convulsions stopped. As did the feeling of disgust that had flooded my mouth.
"Armen, no damn lightning this time," I ordered. I got a grunt of acquiescence in return, followed by a burst of icicles.
The other mages were spreading out, doing much the same. Gouts of fire, flashes of lightning, localised blizzards, green rocks falling from nowhere. Where the enemy reached our positions, Templars in full plate armour stepped in front again, deflecting blows and striking down those fortunate... or unfortunate enough to have made it that far. It was chaos. Just as planned. Better, any semblance of organisation in the ranks of the enemy completely dissolved once Velarana and her knight-enchanters charged forwards, spirit blades waving and stabbing. The waves of arrows and bolts abruptly stopped, letting me stand up straight again.
It was pretty hard for me to find a decent target in that madness, but with more and more attention coming our way, I knew that was temporary. I decided to hang back by the oak tree while the others moved forwards, reloading and watching proceedings. I began the procedure from muscle memory; I had carried a heavy firelance into battle during my first stint with the army of my homeland, but at a relaxed pace. My view was increasingly obscured by smoke to either side, which concerned me a little more.
"Soprano, McNulty, report," I said via radio.
"Gaspard's really interested in the mages," Soprano replied, "It's like shooting nugs in a cage over here, the enemy is all moving close to get at you guys."
"Same thing over here," McNulty replied, "Almost feel sorry for the bastards."
"Don't," I replied.
"We're beginning to run low on ammunition," Soprano added, "We're going to need to break off soon."
"Copy," I said, "Shoot until each has three shots left... that should be enough to cover our retreat."
Soprano and McNulty said something beyond acknowledging my orders, but I didn't hear it clearly. The loud, unnatural rustling of branches above me garbled the voices. I glanced upwards, expecting to see the eagles screwing around.
Instead, I saw a half dozen clowns hanging by their legs or arms. Masked clowns with daggers.
"Oh shit!" I shouted, my voice higher pitched than I would like to admit.
Breathless, I completed the reload of my firelance, stepping back. I tried to get a bead on the killer clowns, feeling my heartbeat in my throat as I swung the barrel. They dropped from the tree with the grace and athleticism of acrobats, and rushed forwards. I tripped backwards over a rock and fell on my ass, an accident but one that saved me from taking two or three daggers to the face.
"FUCK YOU!" I yelled, and depressed the trigger.
The firelance spat hot brass at the fuckers in a stream, propped up on one of my boots. Spray and pray. At that range, a couple of paces at most, the effect should have been an end game. Except the enemy was entirely made up of gymnasts. I caught the two immediately in front of me, two men who wouldn't have looked out of place at an S&M party if the colour black had been banned. They got stitched across their chests, tumbling to the dirt bloodied up.
I turned my weapon's attentions to the rest. The other four pirouetted and tumbled aside like a circus performance, and produced more daggers. Three had went right, in the direction of the forest. At first I thought they were fleeing, but it was a feint. Flying daggers came out of the blue, one bouncing off my firelance, another off the top of my helmet. I sent bursts chasing after the throwers, with the desired effect.
Except that it had left me wide open for the last one.
A bladed shoe of all things caught my peripheral vision, courtesy of the sparkling jewellery encrusting it, and I rolled over sharply. Painful, dirty, but absolutely necessary to survive. A second later, and I would have been the butt end of a bad 007 joke to any future Outlander.
I pulled my handcannon out, the firelance stuck underneath me, but it too was kicked aside. A dagger whirled in a hand, the killer clown putting on a show for herself. She was definitely female, which gave me the idea for what to do next.
I sprang at her, a feat of squat strength that would have made any drill sergeant happy. My body collided with her, and I tackled her to the ground. I just managed to grab her arm with my left hand as the dagger thrust came. It bit deep, but only between my collar bone and my shoulder. The combat haze fell over me, the pain of my wound not registering and the world narrowing to nothing but the death struggle.
I retaliated with a vicious punch to the head, which stunned her for half a moment. I tried to grab her arm again, but it came about, stabbing again in a motion that was blocked by the kevlar. I began to move my knees to pin her legs. Mistake. She moved inside my reach into a position that would have been positively intimate otherwise, wrapping her legs around my hips, our breath mixing, every inch of our torsos entwined. She had blue eyes under the mask.
It was not as pleasant as it sounds.
As I tried to pry her loose, pushing her face away from mine with both hands, I felt the dagger's point move downwards along my side and tuck itself just under my armour. She had me. Almost.
Shouts echoed from around us, I couldn't make out who, but I felt the dagger remove itself from where it had began to thrust. I wasn't sure if it had done any damage, but I felt an overwhelming fatigue. A strange one. I had been wounded before, a flesh wound on my left thigh, and it felt nothing like this. I began to lose consciousness, even as the hold on me eased off.
I fell forwards on top of the enemy, blacking out.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: It appears as if alerts for the site are currently down, as I'm getting none of them at present. I'm not exactly sure if everyone else is getting theirs, but no time to waste.
Also seems I lost about ten followers and a few favourites over the past few weeks, made up for by new ones but still noticed by me as I've investigated the above problem. Not sure why that is, whether some people don't like where I've taken the story or whether it's some sort of glitch. Either way, I'd appreciate a review explaining why.
The next chapter(s) is the last of this volume, after which Outlander will be going into hiatus until November 12th, to allow for completion of Battlefield 2183 (hopefully).
Katkiller-V: Needless to say, the adaptation cycle will go on from now on. Certain cats have left certain bags, and there are few more to escape.
Raw666: The nobles lost quite a few, but not as much as the Free Army in the instance of Lydes. In this chapter at Vindargent however... well, you'll have to wait for the next chapter to find out, won't you?
N Tucker: Sam's radio communications are short range, a couple of miles or so. He has long range equipment too, but only one set. So, the cavalry scouts sent out in the morning went out, gathered rumours, saw Gaspard's cavalry, and came back. Add the interference of the enemy to them actually getting back, and all of that would take time without radio, leaving him vulnerable to exactly what happened.