Imager’s Battalion

“I have another question, sir,” ventured Shaelyt.

“Yes?”

“Many times when you have done what others would claim is not possible … you have been injured. Yet nothing has struck you. You are moving with great care even now…”

“I don’t deny it. I’m a bit sore. You want to know why?”

Both undercaptains nodded.

“Beyond a certain point … I’ve learned from experience … when there are too many impacts on shields, the force of those impacts are born by the body.” Quaeryt paused for a moment. “It’s like a physical shield. If a sabre hits a shield that’s properly held, the shield-holder doesn’t feel much. If a horse rears and its hooves and a battle ax hit the shield, the man holding the shield is likely to have many broken bones, if he survives.”

“You’ve survived worse than that with no bones broken,” Shaelyt pointed out.

“At times that’s been true. But not at other times. You saw what happened to me at Ferravyl. And I was bruised all over when I came to Ferravyl because I’d used shields against explosives in a wagon. The more you work on shields the stronger they get-but there’s always a breaking point. I had shields, probably like yours, when I went to Tilbor. They weren’t enough to protect me against a crossbow bolt fired at close range. They slowed the bolt enough that it didn’t break my collarbone or go deep enough into my chest to kill me. But it was more than a month before I rode again. In the last battle in Tilbor, I wore myself out and was flattened by a heavy cavalryman. That broke my arm and tore up a few muscles.”

The two exchanged glances again.

“So … you’ve continued to fight when you knew…” Voltyr let his words break off.

“When necessary,” Quaeryt admitted. “Sometimes you have no choice. Just as sometimes troopers and their commanders have no choice.” No good choices … there are always choices …

“Thank you, sir.”

“I’ll go over this with the others in the morning.” Quaeryt nodded and turned.

As he walked back toward the central cot near where rations were being prepared, Quaeryt could feel their eyes on his back. Did you say enough? Too much? Did you make it clear enough?

He could only hope so.

34

Quaeryt woke in the darkness to an off-key trumpet and the insistent clangor of a bell, followed by shouted commands, and then by the muffled sounds of weapons. For a moment he had no idea where he was, not until the undercaptains around him began to stir. Then he sat up on the thin pallet he’d covered with his single blanket and yanked on his boots and put on the uniform shirt he’d folded and laid aside to sleep in the too-warm night.

“Imagers! Muster out front!” Quaeryt stood and hurried toward the door.

When he reached the narrow porch of the cot, he glanced around, but while he heard sounds, they did not come from the river road to the west, but more from the southwest. That made sense. The Bovarians wouldn’t have attacked along the road if they wanted to surprise Skarpa’s forces.

Both moons were but thin crescents. Neither shed much light, and in the near darkness, all he could see were the shadowy figures of troopers forming up.

What can you do that will be most effective? As soon as he asked himself the question, he realized how stupid it was, since he had only a general idea of from where the Bovarian attack was coming … and none about what Telaryn forces were responding and how.

When the imagers all appeared, after what seemed like a quint, but was closer to a few moments, he ordered, “On me! To the headquarters house.” At least we can protect Skarpa, if necessary.

But by the time they had reached the large dwelling, it was clear that Skarpa and the other officers had already left.

“We’ll move up the river road,” Quaeryt stated firmly. “Be ready to image. Smoke first, then iron darts. Only on my command.”

“… can’t see … friggin’ thing…”

Quaeryt had no trouble recognizing Threkhyl’s loud and surly voice.

“… is night, you know?” replied Desyrk. “You expect the moons to shine for you?”

“… be helpful…”

“Quiet,” Quaeryt ordered firmly, but not loudly, image-projecting his voice back at the undercaptains. He strained to hear and to see any moving shadows, but the only sounds nearby were those of his men. Even the noise of fighting to the south had died away.

After walking another hundred yards or so, Quaeryt heard movements to his left, coming from the south, and he immediately extended shields. “Stand ready!”

At that moment a good squad of Telaryn troopers charged out from a small grove of trees on the left side of the river road toward the imagers.

The two troopers in the lead ran into Quaeryt’s shields and rocked back. One stumbled, and the other fell at the edge of the road, then scrambled to his feet.

“Imagers! Halt!” snapped Quaeryt in Tellan. Then he image-projected his voice at the troopers. “As you were!”

The troopers stiffened, and a squad leader hurried forward, blade at the ready.

“Sir?”

“Subcommander Quaeryt. The imagers and I couldn’t do much in the dark where every one is all mixed up. So I thought we’d cover the river road.” Quaeryt hadn’t thought it out quite that precisely. He’d gone more on instinct.

“Yes, sir. I’m sorry, sir. We didn’t know.”

“You wouldn’t have. No damage done,” said Quaeryt. But there could have been. The last thing we need is to take out our own troops-or have them take out an unaware imager. “We haven’t seen any Bovarians. Have you?”

“Not here, sir. The ones who came from the south withdrew when we hit them. Well … after they hit us and we pushed them back. The captain sent us here to make sure they didn’t circle us.”

As the squad leader explained, Quaeryt could see more troopers gathering and forming up in the trees.

“It’s just the imagers and Subcommander Quaeryt, sir!” the squad leader called.

A captain strode out of the trees. “Subcommander, sir, Subcommander Meinyt didn’t tell us you’d be here.” The accent suggested he was from one of the battalions from Piedryn.

“He didn’t know. There wasn’t time to inform him.” Quaeryt gestured. “We can move west on the road together.”

“Yes, sir. Appreciate it, sir.”

As Quaeryt led the imagers along the road, flanked by the Telaryn company, his eyes searched the dimness ahead, barely illuminated by the stars and thin crescents of Artiema and Erion, but a portion of his thoughts were elsewhere.

Holding shields was the only imaging that was even halfway effective in deep darkness or where the imagers couldn’t see, for one reason or another, and he was the only imager proficient in doing that. Yet … Have you delayed too long in trying to start them in learning shields?

He didn’t think he could have started much sooner … but the question still nagged at him.

35

Quaeryt was up early on Mardi, dressed quickly despite muscles that were still sore, and saw to the imagers, telling them that they would meet again after breakfast. Then he met with Zhelan about Fifth Battalion before