Imager’s Battalion

Without the imagers-again-the results could have been much worse.

But the question of shields lingered in the back of his mind.

After he finished with Calkoran, Quaeryt rode to the front of first company, his eyes going to the trees on the north side of the road and the canal, not quite seeing either. You tried to protect them … you just didn’t think about muskets in a side volley. He shook his head again.

No matter how much he told himself that in the few weeks he’d had the imagers he couldn’t have taught them what it had taken him well over a year to learn and develop, he had the feeling that Akoryt’s death … and perhaps those of others … would haunt him.

But he did need to give the others a better chance. They might surprise you.

One way or the other …

He glanced northward again, for a moment.

32

Just slightly after midday, Skarpa ordered resumption of the advance toward Ralaes, leaving Fifth Battalion as vanguard. He also sent out two squads of scouts and remained at the head of the column with Quaeryt as they rode alongside the ancient canal.

A mille or so past the spot where the Bovarians had attacked, the canal turned southward. Quaeryt couldn’t help but study what the Naedarans had done. The far side of the canal was clearly a stone wall, backed by an earthen levee. On the far side of the levee was a marsh that extended northwest and joined the River Aluse. An ancient stone bridge-repaired in more recent times-crossed the canal, and on the far side of the bridge, the ancient stone road swung west to again parallel the river.

As he adjusted the visor cap and blotted the sweat off his forehead in the early afternoon heat, Quaeryt’s eyes followed the canal. Why isn’t it swamp? There has to be water flowing from somewhere or it would have long since filled itself in. Quickly taking out his map, he located where he thought they were. While the canal wasn’t shown on the map, nor the bridge, the isle was. So was a large lake to the south, with a town called Chelaes located along the western side of the unnamed lake. Chelaes must have been important for Naedara.

“What are you thinking about? You’ve got that expression,” said Skarpa.

“The canal and why it was built.”

“It was built to get boats to the river. That was a long time back. Right now, the Bovarians used the canal wall to get off that isle. They have carts or wagons and they’re moving west at a good clip.”

“So they can set up another ambush or withdraw to meet their main body,” suggested Quaeryt.

“Most likely both,” replied Skarpa dryly.

Another glass passed before one of the scouts rode up beside the commander.

“What did you find?”

“The wagons that carried the musketeers and their muskets took another road just ahead. It’s headed south. The millestones say that there’s a place called Chelaes eleven milles south.”

“It’s on a lake, according to the map,” added Quaeryt.

“They won’t go that far. They need to get to Villerive.” Skarpa shook his head. “We’ll have to leave a company where the roads split … at least for a glass or so after we pass. I don’t want them circling back and following us. Not too close, anyway.”

“Maybe there’s a back road that parallels the river road that will get them to Ralaes or Villerive sooner,” suggested Quaeryt.

“That could be. The river swings north and then back south. Might be faster to cut across. But we don’t know. Don’t want to take any chances, though.”

Quaeryt could understand that all too well.

“I’m going to ride back and talk to Meinyt. You see anything out of sorts … call a halt.”

“Yes, sir.” Quaeryt understood what Skarpa hadn’t said-that he’d better be alert to something “out of sorts” early enough to avoid another ambush.

Skarpa looked to the scout. “You keep the reports coming to the subcommander.”

“Yes, sir.”

As the scout headed back westward and Skarpa rode toward the rear of the column, Quaeryt made an effort to study the terrain on both sides of the road-carefully, forcing his eyes to take in each area, from the scraggly weeds just beyond the shoulder of the road, to the sagging split rail fence of the small stead ahead and the lack of smoke from the chimney of the small cot.

Quaeryt kept watching.

Finally, a quint or so later, they reached the spot where the road to the south split off the river road, except it was a gentle turn, and the paved road was the one heading south, while the river road returned to being packed clay. Quaeryt studied the river road carefully, but there were no heavy wheel tracks and only a few hoofprints, likely those of the Telaryn scouts, heading west along the river. He could discern no attempts to blur prints or tracks on the river road, nor did he see any evidence of a concealed return to the river road as he and Fifth Battalion rode on.

Shortly, another scout rode back eastward and swung his mount in beside Quaeryt.

“There are tracks on the road ahead, sir, just past some fields that have been harvested. That’d be a mille or so ahead.”

“What crop?”

“Looks to be hay, sir. They got those funny haystacks in the field, and the stubble’s short.”

“There’s no one hiding behind those stacks, is there?”

“No, sir. Hardly big enough to hide a single man and mount.”

Quaeryt recalled what Calkoran had said about muskets … and flat areas. “What’s the ground like just ahead, between here and there?”

“You can see, sir. Pretty much the same as here.”

That meant fields and small steads on the south, and a narrow strip of brush, bushes, and occasional trees between the river road and the River Aluse.

“Column! Halt! Third company! Forward! Pass it back!” Quaeryt couldn’t quite have said why he had reacted so quickly, but there was something about the scout’s report that bothered him, even if he couldn’t have said what. He turned to Zhelan. “I don’t like the scout’s report. So I’m going to move ahead with third company. Keep Fifth Battalion at the ready.”

“Yes, sir. Are you certain that you don’t want the whole battalion?”

“If it’s that bad, I’ll let you know.”

In less than half a quint, Major Zhael reined up, third company behind him on the shoulder of the road. “Sir?”

“We’re going to look and see about something, Major.” Quaeryt offered a smile. “I thought you and your men could keep me company.” He eased his mount around to the south, so that Zhael would be riding on the river side of the road. Then he nodded to the scout. “Lead the way.”

For the next half mille, Quaeryt could see nothing out of the ordinary. While the fields had been recently harvested, there were no haystacks or even enough grain or maize for gleaning. Then they rode past a cot set back some fifty yards from the road, with a weathered split rail fence some thirty yards to the west of the cot. Beyond the fence began another series of fields, beginning with a green plant that covered everything and stood a little over knee-high. Beyond that was the harvested grain field dotted with small haystacks.

As they rode past the fence, Quaeryt studied the green field, clearly something being raised for winter fodder for livestock, but he could see no sign that anyone had walked or ridden through the comparatively low plants. The haystacks beyond did indeed look strange, seemingly with hay bundled into pyramids and encircled with cord. But there was something about the haystacks.

There aren’t any in the fifty yards closest to the road.

“Third company! To arms!” Even as he spoke, Quaeryt tried to extend his shields more and at an angle.