Here is approximately seven-tenths of one per cent of the next novel in the MERCENARIES series.
I hope some folks will want to read the rest.
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1. APPROACH MARCH
“Just more woods, Zinni?”
“’Fraid so, major. But the cits say there’s a highway from Gorodel to Whitesands.”
“All right. Go tell the general.”
The young scout saluted and rode off. Loreg turned to Sgt. Chindan. “They say Vedraxa is part of the Empire now. I hope that means some new roads.”
We reach Gorodel in three days, sir. Things should get better then.”
“I hope it doesn’t snow. Any more supplies?”
“We can’t get much from the farmers, sir. They got nothing to spare. That last village managed to cough up about two bushels of wheat.”
“I’ll ask her about going on half rations until Gorodel. Carry on, sergeant.”
Loreg looked back; the van of the Pelicans could be seen wending its way through the forest. “Rear guard in Sarenia and vanguard here. Wish we could be in the middle for once,” he said. Then he trotted south, through the screen of archers, and reached 1st Company.
“Still nothing but forest,” he said to Lt. Vaklar.
“We’ll reach the Zerdar soon, sir. It’s easier north of the river.”
“I hope so. When we get to Gorodel, make sure nobody wanders off. The men are hungry enough to start pillaging, and we’re in friendly territory. Any rumors about the enemy?”
“The commander is with the general. Maybe she’ll have some news, but as far as I know they’re still near Vorgast, sir. It’ll be some time before we see any Saris.”
“You ever campaigned in the winter before?”
“No sir. This will be a new experience.”
“Maybe we can winter in Vorgast, or Norl.” He rode down the line, shaking his head when troops asked if there was any relief in sight.
The march from Ferlind had been going on for eight days across a poor and wild countryside. By now a battle seemed preferable. In fact, the prospect of a battle would have cheered everyone up by offering chances for loot and fame. Marching provided neither.
Loreg rode past the other three companies of halberdiers to the bag-gage column. The first wagon was pulled by two horses that looked as though they should have been carrying fighting men (which was what they had done before Kedriss Gap). Sitting in back, protected by a bul-wark of disassembled tents, were three young women, playing cards.
“How much further to this town, major?” called one, peering out from under the hood of her woolen cloak.
“About three days, Sary. And probably half rations until then.”
“Why couldn’t we go by sea!” exclaimed another.
“Rough weather, they say. The commander wasn’t upset about that.”
“No. She’d rather go to Whitesands on her knees than get on a boat.”
“Ha. I win,” said the third girl, laying down her cards.
The other two paid her as Terl Garvis rode up. “Commander around, Lana?” he asked one of the losers. “I’ve got a bivouac picked out.”
“She’s back with the general, captain.”
“Good. I can see her and the army billeting officer together.”
He rode away. Loreg went to his usual place, between 3rd and 4th Companies, and the long column of soldiers trudged on, into the gathering twilight of central Vedraxa.
(2)
Andiriel returned just before the evening halt, telling Loreg and Tomas that nothing much had changed. “The general is still worried that the enemy might try to threaten our right, so the light cavalry will stay to the east and our scouts will be in charge of guiding the army,” she said. “It’s an honor, really, that he trusts us to do that.”
Loreg told her of the food situation and recommended cutting rations.
“I was afraid of that, but there’s no choice,” she said. “The general assured me that there’s lots of food in Gorodel. The Prince ordered it sent there two weeks ago. We’ll have a decent road, too, finally. We’ll go to Whitesands and follow it down the coast.”
“No news of an invasion yet?”
“No. But the general says it can’t be long now, unless they’ve decided to wait until spring, which he thinks isn’t likely. Hang on, everybody. Things will get better.”
The army encamped near a brook. Fuel parties went to chop firewood after the tents were up and the guards out. The temperature was near freezing—colder than it usually had been the previous year at Ironport.
Supper was stale bread, a little beef jerky, and some dried vegetables. Andiriel ate with her orderlies and the regimental mascot, who was less bouncy than usual.
“Sandi isn’t too happy,” said Lana, passing the fox a bit of bread. “This isn’t the desert.”
“It’s the cold, and there aren’t as many things she can catch,” said Andiriel. “Hunting’s not easy these days, is it, honey? All the yummy mouses have gone someplace warmer.” She stroked Sandi’s back and smiled. “Your coat’s getting really thick.”
Sandi yipped plaintively and left the tent. “If you find a nice big rat, bring it back,” called Dagget. “We could use it.” He looked at Andiriel. “Chief, can we really fight a campaign in this weather? It’s November 20, and it’ll get lots worse. Food and weather, I mean.”
“It only takes one side to make a war,” she replied. “If the Saris invade Vedraxa, we have to meet them. If they don’t cross the border, the general plans to put the bulk of the army near Whitesands and cover the frontier with pickets.”
“Maybe the Empire will send some help,” said Lana.
“I asked him about that. He doesn’t think it will happen before spring. We couldn’t feed more men, for one thing. Demantius is pretty sure we can handle the Saris and their mercs. The Prince is placing him in supreme command. The message just got here today.”
“That’s good, chief.”
“He’s going to ride ahead to Whitesands, to look things over.”
“Who’ll command this force while he’s away?”
“Cormad. He’s the senior colonel.”
Dagget’s face fell. Andiriel smiled. “You didn’t think it would be me, did you? I’m not ready for that yet, Dags. Cormad’s in his fifties. He’s very good.”
“But we captured his whole regiment at Chevelina, chief.”
“That wasn’t his fault. He never got off the ship. He respects us, you know. We treated the Gryphons honorably.”
(3)
Demantius rode north the next day; his five regiments continued their unpleasant trek through the bleak countryside of central Vedraxa. Patrols came in regularly from Tyvar Negrath’s cavalry force—which included the 150 men of the general’s own unit—to report all was quiet on the right, and the Pelican scouts likewise found nothing new. The wind picked up a bit. Chilly rain fell. The troops trudged on. “Better a long march to victory than a short one to defeat,” said some witty officer, a saying that made the rounds.
They reached Gorodel, the only place of any size in the region, on the morning of the 23rd. This city of 12,000 souls sat astride the Zerdar River. Cormad marched through it, since it contained the only bridges for miles, but the troops were not allowed to break ranks. They made camp two miles north and dispatched wagons to get the expected supplies—which proved in fact to be there, a compliment to the arrangements of the Prince of Vedraxa and his bureaucracy, and a good thing for Gorodel, too, considering what might have happened if the troops started foraging after three days on half rations.
That night Captain Voros brought word that the army would force-march to Whitesands. Enemy light troops had crossed the border; Demantius felt that a full-scale invasion would soon follow. He wanted to meet the Sarenians close to the Reldani frontier.
Andiriel asked Voros what forces were already in place. “About 3,000,” he replied. “There’s five merc regiments, maybe 1,300 levies, and about 100 Vedraxan knights plus their people. The Prince of Reldan supposedly is coming in, too, with some loyal men.”
“So we’ll have over 6,000? That’s a lot.”
“The general thinks we may be outnumbered almost two to one once the Saris add their men to the mercs. This is going to be tough.”
“We can do it. Some of my men say we’ll spend the winter in Vorgast, or even Norl.”
“We’ll need all the confidence we can muster,” said the captain with a grin.
“Morale’s good, and now we’re on full rations. How are things at Whitesands?”
“The Vedraxans have a big depot there, and wagon convoys all the way from Karlisberg. Should be enough for a month or so. North of Whitesands the country’s very wild.”
“Well, if the enemy has a lot more men, maybe they’ll have a lot less food. It can’t be any easier for them to supply themselves.”
“The general thinks the same, colonel. He said that if Rognard can’t force a decision quickly, he’ll have to wait until March. If all else fails, we can just hold Whitesands. It’s the only walled city between Vorgast and Karlisberg. By spring Prince Ednis can call out his vassals in the south. The Empire will help pay for everything, too. It’s paying our salaries right now.”
“It is?”
“Yes. We learned that in Whitesands. The Chancery decided to foot the bill for all of Vedraxa’s mercs so Prince Ednis won’t go bankrupt.”
“So we’re fighting for the Empire, at least indirectly?” said Andiriel. “I’m very glad. I always hoped to work for the Emperor.”
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Sunday, July 18, 2010
A Pleasant Surprise
About two months ago I gave away five copies each of Storm Approaching and And Gladly Teach through a Library Thing program in which you offer some books and, after a couple of weeks, L. Thing randomly picks the winners from those who indicated an interest in getting a book and sends you their addresses. The recipients are asked to provide a review. In the weeks following my dispatch of the ten books, only one person even acknowledged receiving one. Oh well, I thought, so much for that. But when I checked L.T. today, I found that a recipient in Connecticut had posted the following in late June about And Gladly Teach:
"This book is extremely funny and I had fun reading it. There were times when at the doctor's waiting room, or at the laundrymat, I burst out laughing uncontrollably, prompting the startled people to ask just what I am reading that is so funny. I showed them the book and they either jotted down the title and author or asked me if they can read it after I'm done; they needed a good laugh. I highly recommend this book to whomever needs a good laugh. It is well written."
Isn't that nice? Thank you! And you, O reader, wouldn't you like a good laugh? Why not buy And Gladly Teach today? Or tomorrow. Or real soon, anyway. Soon your own gufffaws and chortles will also ring out at clinics and laundromats, and you too can recommend my books to eager readers. See "Books, Anyone? two posts down.
"This book is extremely funny and I had fun reading it. There were times when at the doctor's waiting room, or at the laundrymat, I burst out laughing uncontrollably, prompting the startled people to ask just what I am reading that is so funny. I showed them the book and they either jotted down the title and author or asked me if they can read it after I'm done; they needed a good laugh. I highly recommend this book to whomever needs a good laugh. It is well written."
Isn't that nice? Thank you! And you, O reader, wouldn't you like a good laugh? Why not buy And Gladly Teach today? Or tomorrow. Or real soon, anyway. Soon your own gufffaws and chortles will also ring out at clinics and laundromats, and you too can recommend my books to eager readers. See "Books, Anyone? two posts down.
Monday, July 12, 2010
The New Empire
The main political unit of the west, the New Empire has a polity somewhat reminiscent of the Holy Roman Empire. The Emperor ruless the Crown Lands directly; the nine provinces are subject to their own sovereigns, who owe fealty, but not taxes, to the Emperor. Valdi, which broke away from the New Empire long ago, is entirely independent.
Andiriel was raised at the Institute for the Salvation of the Homeless in Javakis, Norland.
(Click on maps to enlarge them)
The Calamian Islands
Although culturally and linguistically close to the New Empire, the ten states of the Calamian Islands are independent monarchies. The Isles are a good place for soldiers of fortune to find work, as small wars are frequent. Most of the action of the Mercenaries trilogy takes place here. There is also a good deal of piracy, especially near the Pinnacles.This map seems to get more views than anything else on the site. Can anyone tell me why??
Sarenia
Four hundred miles east of the Calamian Islands lies Sarenia, governed by the all-powerful King of Kings with the assistance of the Ruling Clerics. Less arid than foreigners imagine it to be, Sarenia, wealthy and populous, is very different from the nations to its west.
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Gold and Glory -- An Excerpt
Here are the first six pages of Gold and Glory, Vol. II in my MERCENARIES series. The print-on-demand production process is going well; I hope the book is available by early June, or perhaps earlier.
(If anyone knows how to get Blogspot to indent, please let me know. Since I can't, I have had to insert blank lines between each paragraph to make things more readable.)
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1. THE JEKLAR CAMPAIGN: IRONROCK
In the hills and valleys
Trumpets loudly blaring,
Mercenaries march, all
Bold, brave, handsome, daring.
Rat-a-tat-tat the drums are beating
Rat-a-tat-tat the drums are beating
Tantarara go the trumpets
Tantarara, one, two, three.
“What’s this one, Loreg? I haven’t heard it before.”
“Just a silly song, commander. But it keeps us marching at a good clip.”
All our officers are
Riding steeds so dashing:
Proudly step their horses,
Sun from helmets flashing.
Rat-a-tat-tat, etc.
Andiriel patted Brownie’s neck. “Do you feel dashing today, steed? Poor girl. At least you survived the winter. You’re tougher than you look.”
Though we’ve left behind us
Girls who can’t forget us,
‘Bout nine months from now they
May perhaps regret us.
Rat-a-tat-tat, etc.
“Give them a ‘tantarara,’ Artus,” Andiriel told her trumpeter. “Two days out and already I feel happier. It’s spring! It’s so nice to see grass, and trees with leaves.”
“We all feel better, commander. Morale’s high. All we need now is a job.”
What on earth is finer
Than with comrades trusty
To march forth to battle
Though the roads be dusty?
Rat-a-tat-tat, etc.
“Three days to Jeklar, right? Just hope that Emdan really is at war with Fanrix.”
It was early afternoon of April 2. Having gone around the hills and mines west of Ironport, the Pelicans were now on a dirt road, entering farm country. The cits, depending on their previous experiences with mercenaries, either stood and waved or ran away and hid.
About an hour later, as the regiment got underway after a ten-minute halt, two riders approached from the west: L/Cpl Gerlon and a stranger.
“Ah, visitors,” said Andiriel, trotting ahead to meet them. “In a hurry, too.” She gestured to Loreg, who joined her from his position further back.
Gerlon saluted. “Commander, this is Captain Kassis nar Voros, staff-officer to General Demantius. He’s been looking for us. Sir, our colonel, Anashla.”
The captain was about thirty, wearing very good mail and boots; his stallion made Brownie look feeble. He saluted, and said, a little breathlessly, “At last we found you. I can guide you to the general’s camp, colonel. It’s two days’ march to the northwest.”
“Northwest? Not at Jeklar?”
“Jeklar is under siege by the Count of Fanrix. The general is organizing a counterattack.”
Andiriel and Loreg stared at him.
“Yes. The Count moved fast and surprised us. He crossed the border a few days back and disrupted all our plans. The general left a garrison in the city and retreated north. We’re trying to raise everyone we can as quickly as possible. Jeklar can hold out for three weeks at least.”
Andiriel nodded to L/Cpl Gerlon, who returned to his scouting duties. She rode with the two men next to 1st Company, whose men had fallen silent, trying to overhear the news.
“So Emdan does want to hire us, captain?” she asked.
“We certainly do. We’re offering G1,100 for one month, supplied, with options for two more months. I have a contract with me. We heard the Red Rats were in the southeast.”
She winked at Loreg. “Captain, do you suppose the Count of Fanrix also needs troops?”
Voros frowned. “Oh, colonel, surely, after wintering in the Duke of Emdan’s lands, you would not....”
“Well, I don’t know, captain. We’re mercenaries, after all. You did say G1,200?”
He hesitated, gave a close-lipped smile, and said, “Yes, that’s right, colonel.”
“Then you’ve got us: the Pelicans, not the Red Rats. We’ll bivouac in an hour or so. Could you brief my officers then? Good.” She nodded towards the column of troops. “Please ride around and see what you’ve bought. Major Jevlis, you and Carlin inspect the contract.”
The regiment was getting better at castramentation. At 4 PM, Capt. Garvis, the Provost Marshal and Billeting Officer, came back from his reconnaissance to tell Andiriel there was a good bivouac site a mile ahead. Once there, the Mounted Scouts patrolled the perimeter while the halberdiers, archers, and civilians unloaded the wagons and put up tents. Then the wagons were chained together and placed along the “most likely threat” route; this was southwest, and seemed less theoretical than in the past. The Provost saw to the setting out of the usual security details after the Sergeant of the Guard for the week reported to Andiriel, who gave him the parole and countersign for the night. Loreg reported the contract to be satisfactory.
At Retreat Andiriel introduced Capt. Voros and announced that the regiment was now working for Duke Kesman of Emdan against Count Tilmand of Fanrix, “and for good pay, twelve hundred, supplied. Sharpen your blades. We’ll be in action soon.”
She was a little surprised by the cheering. Loreg said, “All our training and practice, commander—they want to use it.”
Captain Voros watching with a professional eye, was satisfied. He said so at supper, which he ate with Andiriel, Loreg, and Tomas. The other officers came in afterwards.
“I won’t make excuses,” he told them. “We were surprised and outmaneuvered. The Count of Fanrix is a good soldier. He forestalled Duke Kesman’s invasion by launching his own. Apparently he told his knights during the winter to assemble in early March. He hired four mercenary units and kept them up north; we knew of only one. He called out just his eastern levies, so they assembled and moved quickly. He crossed the border with over 4,000 men when we had barely half that number ready. It’s a short march to Jeklar. The count surrounded it by land while all six of his warships appeared in the harbor and sank two of the five Emdani quadriremes. So Jeklar is cut off, with Duke Kesman inside.”
“Inside!” exclaimed Lt. Galagos.
“Yes. His Majesty is a brave man. He refused to abandon his capital, so my general left the best garrison he could and marched fifteen miles northeast. We’re calling in all the levies we can. The enemy has not pursued. The general intends to relieve Jeklar as soon as you join him.”
“What mercs does Fanrix have?” asked Tomas.
“The Bears: 500 javelins; Carl’s Killers: 400 sword-and-shield men; the Red Company: 100 halberds and 300 bows; and the Sable Shields, 800 spearmen.” He paused. “I think you’re familiar with the last one, colonel? The Duke of Fanrix hired them away from Sir Bend nar Tillag after that battle.... I forget the name....”
“You’ve very polite, captain. Call it the Rats’ Run if you like.” Andiriel turned to her officers. “I’ll sign the contract now. Tell the men we’ll be facing the Sable Shields again and that we’re going to show them the difference between a rat and a pelican.”
“We sure will, commander,” said Lt. Vaklar; his colleagues voiced agreement.
She motioned Loreg and Tomas to stay and sent for Carlin. Capt. Voros changed G1,100 to 1,200 in the contract. She signed both copies and they touched palms.
“And now, captain, tell us frankly what our chances are of beating Fanrix.”
“That will depend mostly on your regiment, colonel. The Emdan levies aren’t wildly enthusiastic. You’re the only professional infantry we’ve got.”
“Don’t worry,” said Loreg. “We’re looking forward to meeting the Sable Shields again.”
Next morning the regiment turned off the road at Capt. Voros’s direction into an area where villages were sparser. A patrol of light cavalry reached them, which Voros sent back to report that he had hired the Pelicans.
That evening, as she sat reading Xenoranthus, she heard, “Not very talkative today, commander? Lots to think about?” and felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned to see Lana.
She put her hand over Lana’s. “We’ve got our first real battle coming up. I’m worried.”
“You’ll do great, Asha. The men are really ready for a fight, especially after what the Sable Shields did to us last time.”
“I know. That’s not why I’m worried. We’re just part of the army. I hope this Demantius knows his job and that the other troops are brave. We can’t win everything by ourselves.”
Lana knelt beside Andiriel’s chair and took her hands in her own. “We’ve got to win. Otherwise we won’t be able to go shopping in Jeklar, and I really need a new dress.”
Andiriel laughed. “At least if we win we’ll have something to shop with. I guess we’ll do all right. The enemy haven’t got a lucky fox, do they?” She looked out the tent flap, to see Sandi catching beetles.
Capt. Voros brought a report from the light cavalry that the Count of Fanrix was moving north. “He’s left enough troops to maintain the siege and the rest are on the march towards us. General Demantius is moving southwest. We should join him tomorrow afternoon and give battle the next day.”
(2)
The Pelicans met General Demantius sooner than expected: together with a dozen aides and guards he rode into the field while the regiment was having dinner. He urgently sought out Andiriel, who was disappointed by her new superior’s appearance. She had imagined an august, commanding figure (like Sir Branlor), but in fact Demantius was a small, sallow Islander of fifty or so riding a horse that seemed slightly too big for him. His sparse black hair was greasy, his beard untrimmed, his breastplate and cuisses needed polishing; his robust escorts diminished him still further. Andiriel felt that she was equally unprepossessing to him: his brown eyes seemed very skeptical as he studied her when she came to attention.
“Count Tilmand has halted a mile south, near Mud Brook,” Demantius said as he dismounted. “The rest of the army will be here before nightfall. Could I see you alone, colonel?” His voice was cultured, but he spoke abruptly.
They walked to a small grove. Dagget followed, to offer the general some wine, but he waved it aside and dismissed the young man.
Again Demantius fixed her with doubting eyes. “This regiment was the Red Rats?”
“Yes, general. It was.”
“Why is it any better now than at Thrale’s Disaster or Brakar’s Dike?”
“Better training, discipline, morale, and.... and leadership, general. We even won a battle last fall. A big skirmish, at least.”
“Tell me about that.”
She did (omitting her deception of the baron). He listened carefully, nodded, and said, “How long have you been a mercenary?”
“Since I was nineteen, sir.”
“And how old are you now?”
“Nineteen, sir.”
He chuckled before he spoke. “Anashla, you are the only woman I know to command a regiment, except for Ela nal Tindal. She took over the Claws of Gartos when her husband was killed, but turned them over to her brother-in-law a few months later. Listen. I’ve got about 2,200 men: 50 Emdan knights, my 150 light cavalry, 1,400 levies, and 600 Pelicans. Fanrix will field more: 125 knights, 1,700 good mercenary infantry, and about 1,000 levies who certainly aren’t any worse than ours. We have the initiative because they have no light horse, and we’ve got a few more bows, about 400 to 300. The point is, young woman, your regiment will almost certainly either win or lose this thing. I can’t count on the levies to do more than defend, and not even that for very long. It will be all my cavalry can do to distract theirs. I certainly can’t hope to defeat all their knights. Do you honestly think your Pelicans can handle the Sable Shields?”
“Yes, general.”
He waited; she said no more; he raised his shaggy eyebrows.
“The only other thing I could say is ‘no,’ general, and that’s not a good answer, is it?”
Now he laughed, and put a hand on her arm. “Maybe we’ll win this after all, colonel. Maybe we will. Make camp here. I’ll talk to the officers once the rest of our troops arrive.”
They duly arrived. The Emdan knights looked good, accompanied by a lot of people from their estates who pitched the tents and looked after the spare horses. But the militia who wandered into the area over a period of an hour or so made the Pelicans look like the Imperial Guard: a throng of peasants in leather gambesons or no armor, some with helmets and many without, armed with a collection of random weapons and farm tools, supervised (a bit) by older men, most of whom wore mail. They had few tents, and they mobbed the supply wagons to get their bread and meat.
“Will these yokels be of any use at all?” Andiriel asked Loreg.
He studied the milling throng and replied, much to her surprise, “They’re sturdy fellows, commander. Levies aren’t always bad, but they’re unpredictable. I’ve seen militia run at the first volley of arrows, and I’ve also seen them fight like mad. Of course, sometimes that’s because they don’t know enough to retreat. But these lads should give a good account of themselves. They’re healthy, and after a dull winter they’ll welcome some excitement.”
“They’ll certainly get lots of it tomorrow.”
(If anyone knows how to get Blogspot to indent, please let me know. Since I can't, I have had to insert blank lines between each paragraph to make things more readable.)
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1. THE JEKLAR CAMPAIGN: IRONROCK
In the hills and valleys
Trumpets loudly blaring,
Mercenaries march, all
Bold, brave, handsome, daring.
Rat-a-tat-tat the drums are beating
Rat-a-tat-tat the drums are beating
Tantarara go the trumpets
Tantarara, one, two, three.
“What’s this one, Loreg? I haven’t heard it before.”
“Just a silly song, commander. But it keeps us marching at a good clip.”
All our officers are
Riding steeds so dashing:
Proudly step their horses,
Sun from helmets flashing.
Rat-a-tat-tat, etc.
Andiriel patted Brownie’s neck. “Do you feel dashing today, steed? Poor girl. At least you survived the winter. You’re tougher than you look.”
Though we’ve left behind us
Girls who can’t forget us,
‘Bout nine months from now they
May perhaps regret us.
Rat-a-tat-tat, etc.
“Give them a ‘tantarara,’ Artus,” Andiriel told her trumpeter. “Two days out and already I feel happier. It’s spring! It’s so nice to see grass, and trees with leaves.”
“We all feel better, commander. Morale’s high. All we need now is a job.”
What on earth is finer
Than with comrades trusty
To march forth to battle
Though the roads be dusty?
Rat-a-tat-tat, etc.
“Three days to Jeklar, right? Just hope that Emdan really is at war with Fanrix.”
It was early afternoon of April 2. Having gone around the hills and mines west of Ironport, the Pelicans were now on a dirt road, entering farm country. The cits, depending on their previous experiences with mercenaries, either stood and waved or ran away and hid.
About an hour later, as the regiment got underway after a ten-minute halt, two riders approached from the west: L/Cpl Gerlon and a stranger.
“Ah, visitors,” said Andiriel, trotting ahead to meet them. “In a hurry, too.” She gestured to Loreg, who joined her from his position further back.
Gerlon saluted. “Commander, this is Captain Kassis nar Voros, staff-officer to General Demantius. He’s been looking for us. Sir, our colonel, Anashla.”
The captain was about thirty, wearing very good mail and boots; his stallion made Brownie look feeble. He saluted, and said, a little breathlessly, “At last we found you. I can guide you to the general’s camp, colonel. It’s two days’ march to the northwest.”
“Northwest? Not at Jeklar?”
“Jeklar is under siege by the Count of Fanrix. The general is organizing a counterattack.”
Andiriel and Loreg stared at him.
“Yes. The Count moved fast and surprised us. He crossed the border a few days back and disrupted all our plans. The general left a garrison in the city and retreated north. We’re trying to raise everyone we can as quickly as possible. Jeklar can hold out for three weeks at least.”
Andiriel nodded to L/Cpl Gerlon, who returned to his scouting duties. She rode with the two men next to 1st Company, whose men had fallen silent, trying to overhear the news.
“So Emdan does want to hire us, captain?” she asked.
“We certainly do. We’re offering G1,100 for one month, supplied, with options for two more months. I have a contract with me. We heard the Red Rats were in the southeast.”
She winked at Loreg. “Captain, do you suppose the Count of Fanrix also needs troops?”
Voros frowned. “Oh, colonel, surely, after wintering in the Duke of Emdan’s lands, you would not....”
“Well, I don’t know, captain. We’re mercenaries, after all. You did say G1,200?”
He hesitated, gave a close-lipped smile, and said, “Yes, that’s right, colonel.”
“Then you’ve got us: the Pelicans, not the Red Rats. We’ll bivouac in an hour or so. Could you brief my officers then? Good.” She nodded towards the column of troops. “Please ride around and see what you’ve bought. Major Jevlis, you and Carlin inspect the contract.”
The regiment was getting better at castramentation. At 4 PM, Capt. Garvis, the Provost Marshal and Billeting Officer, came back from his reconnaissance to tell Andiriel there was a good bivouac site a mile ahead. Once there, the Mounted Scouts patrolled the perimeter while the halberdiers, archers, and civilians unloaded the wagons and put up tents. Then the wagons were chained together and placed along the “most likely threat” route; this was southwest, and seemed less theoretical than in the past. The Provost saw to the setting out of the usual security details after the Sergeant of the Guard for the week reported to Andiriel, who gave him the parole and countersign for the night. Loreg reported the contract to be satisfactory.
At Retreat Andiriel introduced Capt. Voros and announced that the regiment was now working for Duke Kesman of Emdan against Count Tilmand of Fanrix, “and for good pay, twelve hundred, supplied. Sharpen your blades. We’ll be in action soon.”
She was a little surprised by the cheering. Loreg said, “All our training and practice, commander—they want to use it.”
Captain Voros watching with a professional eye, was satisfied. He said so at supper, which he ate with Andiriel, Loreg, and Tomas. The other officers came in afterwards.
“I won’t make excuses,” he told them. “We were surprised and outmaneuvered. The Count of Fanrix is a good soldier. He forestalled Duke Kesman’s invasion by launching his own. Apparently he told his knights during the winter to assemble in early March. He hired four mercenary units and kept them up north; we knew of only one. He called out just his eastern levies, so they assembled and moved quickly. He crossed the border with over 4,000 men when we had barely half that number ready. It’s a short march to Jeklar. The count surrounded it by land while all six of his warships appeared in the harbor and sank two of the five Emdani quadriremes. So Jeklar is cut off, with Duke Kesman inside.”
“Inside!” exclaimed Lt. Galagos.
“Yes. His Majesty is a brave man. He refused to abandon his capital, so my general left the best garrison he could and marched fifteen miles northeast. We’re calling in all the levies we can. The enemy has not pursued. The general intends to relieve Jeklar as soon as you join him.”
“What mercs does Fanrix have?” asked Tomas.
“The Bears: 500 javelins; Carl’s Killers: 400 sword-and-shield men; the Red Company: 100 halberds and 300 bows; and the Sable Shields, 800 spearmen.” He paused. “I think you’re familiar with the last one, colonel? The Duke of Fanrix hired them away from Sir Bend nar Tillag after that battle.... I forget the name....”
“You’ve very polite, captain. Call it the Rats’ Run if you like.” Andiriel turned to her officers. “I’ll sign the contract now. Tell the men we’ll be facing the Sable Shields again and that we’re going to show them the difference between a rat and a pelican.”
“We sure will, commander,” said Lt. Vaklar; his colleagues voiced agreement.
She motioned Loreg and Tomas to stay and sent for Carlin. Capt. Voros changed G1,100 to 1,200 in the contract. She signed both copies and they touched palms.
“And now, captain, tell us frankly what our chances are of beating Fanrix.”
“That will depend mostly on your regiment, colonel. The Emdan levies aren’t wildly enthusiastic. You’re the only professional infantry we’ve got.”
“Don’t worry,” said Loreg. “We’re looking forward to meeting the Sable Shields again.”
Next morning the regiment turned off the road at Capt. Voros’s direction into an area where villages were sparser. A patrol of light cavalry reached them, which Voros sent back to report that he had hired the Pelicans.
That evening, as she sat reading Xenoranthus, she heard, “Not very talkative today, commander? Lots to think about?” and felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned to see Lana.
She put her hand over Lana’s. “We’ve got our first real battle coming up. I’m worried.”
“You’ll do great, Asha. The men are really ready for a fight, especially after what the Sable Shields did to us last time.”
“I know. That’s not why I’m worried. We’re just part of the army. I hope this Demantius knows his job and that the other troops are brave. We can’t win everything by ourselves.”
Lana knelt beside Andiriel’s chair and took her hands in her own. “We’ve got to win. Otherwise we won’t be able to go shopping in Jeklar, and I really need a new dress.”
Andiriel laughed. “At least if we win we’ll have something to shop with. I guess we’ll do all right. The enemy haven’t got a lucky fox, do they?” She looked out the tent flap, to see Sandi catching beetles.
Capt. Voros brought a report from the light cavalry that the Count of Fanrix was moving north. “He’s left enough troops to maintain the siege and the rest are on the march towards us. General Demantius is moving southwest. We should join him tomorrow afternoon and give battle the next day.”
(2)
The Pelicans met General Demantius sooner than expected: together with a dozen aides and guards he rode into the field while the regiment was having dinner. He urgently sought out Andiriel, who was disappointed by her new superior’s appearance. She had imagined an august, commanding figure (like Sir Branlor), but in fact Demantius was a small, sallow Islander of fifty or so riding a horse that seemed slightly too big for him. His sparse black hair was greasy, his beard untrimmed, his breastplate and cuisses needed polishing; his robust escorts diminished him still further. Andiriel felt that she was equally unprepossessing to him: his brown eyes seemed very skeptical as he studied her when she came to attention.
“Count Tilmand has halted a mile south, near Mud Brook,” Demantius said as he dismounted. “The rest of the army will be here before nightfall. Could I see you alone, colonel?” His voice was cultured, but he spoke abruptly.
They walked to a small grove. Dagget followed, to offer the general some wine, but he waved it aside and dismissed the young man.
Again Demantius fixed her with doubting eyes. “This regiment was the Red Rats?”
“Yes, general. It was.”
“Why is it any better now than at Thrale’s Disaster or Brakar’s Dike?”
“Better training, discipline, morale, and.... and leadership, general. We even won a battle last fall. A big skirmish, at least.”
“Tell me about that.”
She did (omitting her deception of the baron). He listened carefully, nodded, and said, “How long have you been a mercenary?”
“Since I was nineteen, sir.”
“And how old are you now?”
“Nineteen, sir.”
He chuckled before he spoke. “Anashla, you are the only woman I know to command a regiment, except for Ela nal Tindal. She took over the Claws of Gartos when her husband was killed, but turned them over to her brother-in-law a few months later. Listen. I’ve got about 2,200 men: 50 Emdan knights, my 150 light cavalry, 1,400 levies, and 600 Pelicans. Fanrix will field more: 125 knights, 1,700 good mercenary infantry, and about 1,000 levies who certainly aren’t any worse than ours. We have the initiative because they have no light horse, and we’ve got a few more bows, about 400 to 300. The point is, young woman, your regiment will almost certainly either win or lose this thing. I can’t count on the levies to do more than defend, and not even that for very long. It will be all my cavalry can do to distract theirs. I certainly can’t hope to defeat all their knights. Do you honestly think your Pelicans can handle the Sable Shields?”
“Yes, general.”
He waited; she said no more; he raised his shaggy eyebrows.
“The only other thing I could say is ‘no,’ general, and that’s not a good answer, is it?”
Now he laughed, and put a hand on her arm. “Maybe we’ll win this after all, colonel. Maybe we will. Make camp here. I’ll talk to the officers once the rest of our troops arrive.”
They duly arrived. The Emdan knights looked good, accompanied by a lot of people from their estates who pitched the tents and looked after the spare horses. But the militia who wandered into the area over a period of an hour or so made the Pelicans look like the Imperial Guard: a throng of peasants in leather gambesons or no armor, some with helmets and many without, armed with a collection of random weapons and farm tools, supervised (a bit) by older men, most of whom wore mail. They had few tents, and they mobbed the supply wagons to get their bread and meat.
“Will these yokels be of any use at all?” Andiriel asked Loreg.
He studied the milling throng and replied, much to her surprise, “They’re sturdy fellows, commander. Levies aren’t always bad, but they’re unpredictable. I’ve seen militia run at the first volley of arrows, and I’ve also seen them fight like mad. Of course, sometimes that’s because they don’t know enough to retreat. But these lads should give a good account of themselves. They’re healthy, and after a dull winter they’ll welcome some excitement.”
“They’ll certainly get lots of it tomorrow.”
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