“Hold until they’re on the flat!” ordered Meinyt.
Quaeryt could hear other captains giving the same order.
A horn signal followed, and the regiment charged as one. Quaeryt let the captain take the lead, keeping himself in the second line. This time he had the staff ready long before the horsemen of the battalion crashed into the hill forces.
Almost immediately, the lines mixed, and there were footmen in leathers, horsemen in uniform, and those in leathers, all thrown together. Unlike the skirmishes in the trees, Quaeryt found, here there was only a little room to move, but he saw a footman with an ax, and he thrust with the staff, catching the man in the chest-and a Telaryn mounted ranker slashed down with a sabre.
Even as he thrust away a leather-clad rider, he had to wonder why he’d joined the charge, but he had little time for wonderment as another rider pressed between two rankers toward him. He used the staff to knock aside the oversized blade carried by the hill attacker, then managed to swing the staff over the mare to catch another rider on the back of the head before he slashed a ranker on his unprotected side.
For the next quint or so, he used the staff and his shields as much to beat back the men on foot who were trying as much to cripple or kill the mare and other mounts as they were interested in attacking the horses’ riders, although a few more times, he thrust at hill riders … and might even have injured one or two.
Before long, on the top of the ridge, the holding house was burning so fiercely that Quaeryt could feel the heat on his face, as he struggled just to keep men from the mare. Then, in a space of what seemed moments, the opposition faded away, and seemingly abruptly, the soldiers of the regiment were left alone. The main hold building was burning fiercely, but only the closest outbuilding was also afire.
Quaeryt found that he was panting and that his arms burned. He lowered the staff. Blood was smeared across the end, some of it already dried. He didn’t recall hitting anyone in a way that would have drawn blood. He looked to Meinyt, but the captain had eased his mount over to a ranker.
“You’re the squad leader now, Noyan. You know what to do.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Give me a report as soon as you can.”
Quaeryt eased the mare back and tried to inspect her from the saddle. He saw no injuries, and she wasn’t limping. He did not look eastward at the bodies strewn across the matted grass at the base of the ridge, or those lying across the slope, not for more than a few moments.
“See you’re still with us, scholar,” called Meinyt as he turned his mount.
“So far.”
“Sixth Battalion officers!” Skarpa’s voice rang over the hubbub.
Meinyt rode toward the major, and Quaeryt followed to where Skarpa had gathered the battalion officers, staying back and listening.
“I’ll need reports in the next quint. We’ll camp here and head out early tomorrow. Odds are that there will be more attacks. They’ll be more vicious…”
Quaeryt could understand that. What he didn’t understand was why the hill holders had thought that the governor would ignore them forever. Or had that been because the Khanars had let them do as they pleased, at least among themselves, so long as they paid token allegiance to the Khanar?
In a way, Rescalyn acted as the Khanars had until he had the force to do otherwise.
Yet Rescalyn had been able to do it with less tariff revenue, effectively, than had the Khanars. Because the princeps was more efficient at getting and using tariff golds? For all the answers Quaeryt thought he had, there were still many questions for which he had none.
“… Commander announced that sow’s ass Waerfyl was one of those killed. He was with the first attackers. His people didn’t even seem to miss him. Likely some of the other holders will be better commanders. Each holding attack is going to be harder than the last, but there won’t be any peace in Tilbor until we’ve gotten rid of the worst of these arrogant leeches.”
Quaeryt’s lips quirked. Clearly, Skarpa hadn’t forgotten his last meeting with the late holder Waerfyl.
82
As Quaeryt rode past where the natural stone gateposts had been, well before sunrise on Samedi morning, all he saw was a pile of rubble and stone. Behind them, he knew, they had left the smoldering ruins of Waerfyl’s hold, with every building burned and leveled, and all stores either taken or destroyed, but with several wagons commandeered and filled with food, grain, and other fodder. When he saw the gateposts destroyed as well, he shivered. Rescalyn was making it very plain what the cost was for attacking Telaryn.
The road that the regiment took angled to the northeast and was one that Quaeryt had never seen before. Sixth Battalion now rode as the first full battalion back from the vanguard and directly behind Rescalyn and the command group, with Meinyt’s company leading the battalion. For that reason, Quaeryt rode with both Skarpa and Meinyt, since Skarpa usually rode at the head of his battalion. Quaeryt also had refrained from wearing the overlarge green shirt, since he could occasionally see the governor, and that meant Rescalyn could see him.
A good glass after riding out, and just as the sun was beginning to rise, Quaeryt said, “I haven’t been on this road before. Where are we headed?”
“This is the direct back road to Saentaryn’s,” replied Meinyt. “In a few glasses, we’ll join the road where we dealt with the coal wagons.”
“And where from there? After Saentaryn?”
Meinyt shrugged. “No one’s told me, but the next closest hill hold belongs to Demotyl.…”
“Are all the holders who signed that message neighbors of Waerfyl?”
“What message?” demanded Skarpa.
“Oh … I thought you knew. Waerfyl and some other hill holders sent a missive saying they’d had enough of Telaryn interference. It was signed by Waerfyl, Demotyl, Huisfyl, and Saentaryn.”
“Demotyl and Saentaryn adjoin Waerfyl’s lands. Huisfyl’s are farther into the hills, and then you get to one of the biggest holdings. That’s Zorlyn’s.” Skarpa frowned. “How did you know about the message?”
”The governor told me before he sent me to Sixth Battalion,” admitted Quaeryt.
“That’s good to know. The governor hasn’t told me, or any of the battalion commanders. Not in our meetings, anyway.”
“We’re likely to reach Saentaryn’s hold by right after midday, aren’t we?” asked Quaeryt.
“That’s likely.”
“Will we attack this afternoon?”
“That’s up to the governor. I would. Men and mounts will be a bit tired, but Saentaryn won’t expect it that soon.” Skarpa shrugged. “Then I’d give the regiment a day to recover before moving on. More if the men need it.”
“Demotyl’s holding is more than twenty milles north,” added Meinyt. “No way anyone could get there and then get back to attack in less than a day and a half, maybe more. Any other hill holding’s more than twice that far.”
Slightly past midmorning, the horn signal for an attack was sounded from the rear, but the column never even slowed, and several quints later, word reached Skarpa that only a small group of attackers had appeared, and that they’d been driven off with minimal casualties.
“Most of the survivors from Waerfyl’s hold likely retreated deeper into the hills,” observed the major. “Saentaryn’s likely on his own.”
“Wasn’t Waerfyl?” asked Quaeryt.
“He was, but he’s always had more lands and men,” said Meinyt. “That was one reason, I’d guess, Saentaryn raided the coal mine. They couldn’t cut enough timber for the winter.”
“Or they hadn’t, and realized it too late,” added Skarpa dryly.
Less than a glass later, a volley of arrows arched from the trees toward the command group, but two squads from the vanguard charged out even as the shafts were falling, and no more were fired. But the squads
