Captain Larnss yawned mightily. Ye gods, this was a boring job. Nursemaiding all these volunteers and reservists at the back of beyond on the off-chance that the Bethlarii might spring a sneak attack across the northern border while the army was looking for them at Whendrak. Some hopes!
He was beginning to wish they would. Anything was better than this trial by tedium.
'A good career move for you, Larnss,’ he had been told. ‘Not many captains of your age get such a responsibility.'
'Career move,’ he had retorted, somewhat indiscreetly. ‘I'm hardly going to cover myself in glory in front of the Duke while I'm up there, am I?'
'Men in the right place can prevent a battle, captain, and staying alive is glory enough for most people in a war. Besides, the Duke knows the value of those who wait prepared at the edge of the conflict.'
'That's very poetic. But I'd rather have my present responsibility and be in one of the divisions marching to Whendrak.'
'Here are your orders, captain. Safe posting.'
As if it could be anything else up here. Rendd, of all places. Serenstad's most northerly ally. Sheep, sheep, more sheep, and a goat. Give him city life any day. An up-and-coming officer already moving into the fringes of court life, he shouldn't have been dumped up here. Not for the first time since his arrival he began to search through the names of his superiors for the most likely culprit.
'Companies one to five ready to commence patrol, sir.’ The voice made him turn a further yawn into a taut- lipped expression of acknowledgement and, fastening up his tunic, he stepped out of his tent to examine his charges.
Companies indeed! They were scarcely more than glorified platoons. As he walked along the waiting ranks, he tried to work up a sneer for these local volunteers, gathered traditionally into companies by family and district. But they'd been reliable and conscientious so far, and more than anxious to oblige this young fellow from the city. He could not deny that it made a refreshing change from the ambitious back-biting that often typified life in the Serenstad force.
They're not such a bad lot really, he admitted grudgingly. Just farmers and artisans looking to do their bit. Not exactly the legendary warriors of heroic saga, but they were his to make what he could of. It could've been worse. He could have been sent to Farlan and been given the job of trying to organize sailors and fishermen into a fighting unit.
He was about to take his horse from a waiting groom, when, on a whim, he dismissed the man. Be prepared to do as your men do. That much he'd learned from studying Ibris and Menedrion. This patrol was to be a comparatively short one and was to be made on foot, so he too, would walk. It would do him no harm. Indeed, the walking might help him shake off the lethargy that the slow pace of this place seemed to be inducing in him.
The Rendd reservists set off on their patrol.
Once or twice during the day, Larnss regretted his decision to walk, as the locals, used to the hilly terrain, maintained a very commendable pace. It took him some effort to keep his discomfort from showing in his face.
The patrol was, of course, uneventful and they began pitching camp beside a wide, boisterous stream, just before sunset.
While the work was proceeding, Larnss walked up a nearby hill and surveyed the countryside. There was little to be seen except rolling hills in every direction, although to the north-north-east? — he fancied that the sky seemed red. Endir was it, over there? He could not remember, and without giving the matter any further thought he turned back towards the camp. A fine drizzle started to fall.
As he strode down the hill, he frowned in a mixture of irritation and dismay. Before him lay a rambling string of tents spanning across a sharp bend in the stream.
Orders from Serenstad had been quite explicit: all camps in border areas were to be laid out with a defensible perimeter, and appropriate sentries mounted.
Managing to control his initial response he took the officer responsible on one side and explained to him the inadequacy of his response to orders that might well have been initiated by no less a person than the Duke himself.
'Letting the men put their tents up where they want, won't do,’ he concluded. ‘Apart from the standing orders, this is a border area. What if there's a sudden attack?'
'Sudden attack, sir? Here?’ the man interrupted, laughing good-naturedly.
Larnss’ face hardened and he levelled a finger at the suddenly solemn officer. ‘Yes, a sudden attack, here,’ he said angrily. ‘We're at war, for your information. It's not for us to decide what might happen, it's for us to behave like soldiers and be ready for whatever does happen. Groups like us are spread out all along the border in case of some Bethlarii treachery.’ He modified his own commandant's words. ‘The Duke knows the importance of those who wait prepared at the edge of the conflict, that's why I've been sent all the way from Serenstad.’ He glanced up into the increasing rain. He'd had enough doing as the men did for one day, and he certainly didn't intend to get soaked with them while they re-pitched the camp. However, the matter couldn't be let lie …
'Now you can go back to the men and tell them that as our perimeter's been doubled, so has sentry duty. Perhaps then, tomorrow, they'll appreciate the value of observing the Duke's orders and lay the camp out as a proper defensible enclave. And if there's any complaining, we'll put stakes around it … or a ditch … or both. Dismiss.'
Do them no harm, he thought later, as he extinguished the lamp and lay back in his blankets. In fact, it had been very useful; given him a chance to display his authority quite legitimately. And he'd done it quite well, he decided.
He toyed with the idea of waking early and making a spot inspection of the doubtless negligent sentries, but his aching legs and admittedly not unpleasant fatigue told him that this was little more than idle dreaming.
He yawned and stretched, then closed his eyes. The blankets were warm and though the ground was hard, he was both too weary and too contented to care. This might not be such a bad posting after all.
The sound of the rain on the canvas was oddly comforting and, as he drifted off to sleep, its steady drumming rose to fill his mind and displace all other … sounds … distractions … thoughts …
Drumming, drumming.
Drumming.
Grey wakefulness slowly penetrated into the sound.
And more!
Shouting!
Larnss leapt up, suddenly wide awake, just as the flap of his tent was torn open by a wide-eyed and breathless reservist.
Larnss did not wait for him to find his voice, but pushed past him and out into the dawn.
For an instant he thought he was dreaming. Pouring around the broad shoulder of the hill, and making for the camp at full gallop, was a vast horde of horsemen. The drumming hooves filled the air, almost drowning the shrill cries of the sentries dashing through the camp desperately rousing their companions.
Larnss’ mouth dropped open. He had seen the Serenstad cavalry at practice and that was a formidable sight, but this …
This was unbelievable.
But it was there! And it would be on them in minutes. Stark reality swept aside Larnss’ initial shock.
Drawing his sword, he ran through the straggling camp, slashing open tents and brutally kicking awake any who had not already been wakened.
'To me! To me! Spears and shields! Form up, as you value your worthless lives. Form up!'
His junior officers frantically following his lead, the five companies attempted to form a line across the bend in the stream, but the speed of the approaching horsemen and the size of the widespread camp resulted in their only having time to form three ragged squares: two against the banks of the curving stream, and the third in between them.
Larnss, in one of the outer squares, was petrified. Questions flooded into his head. Who were these attackers? Bethlarii surely. But with such a huge cavalry force? He squinted into the approaching mass, but he could see none of the characteristic markings that he had been told typified the Bethlarii regiments.
And how could he and his men hope to stand against such a force? Their position was surely impossible against such numbers. The horsemen could move through the gaps between the squares and surround them almost
