Princeps

their lines.” He paused. “I’d like you to image the most acrid bitter coal and wood smoke you can possible think of across their lines.”

Desyrk looked puzzled for a moment, then nodded.

Shaelyt grinned. “Yes, sir.”

“You’ve done something like that?” asked Quaeryt.

“Only in the cot, sir, when I was little and wanted to go outside. My da-”

“Good. Just stay close to me and listen for my command.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Follow me up front.” Quaeryt moved out and then back up beside Skarpa.

“I’ve given the orders to the majors,” Skarpa said. “We’ll hit their flank at an angle, then move north to join up with Deucalon. I wasn’t ordered to sacrifice the entire regiment, just to attack. Besides, sacrificing won’t do any good. We can always move across Deucalon’s rear and take on the Bovarians on the triangle. That would immobilize them and allow Deucalon to engage without being attacked from the rear.”

Left unspoken was the fact that the marshal might not appreciate Skarpa’s interpretation of his orders.

“The scouts have found a path-it’s not even a lane-up ahead that goes north past a small woodlot. There aren’t any Bovarians there, except there might be scouts.”

“They won’t matter,” Quaeryt said. “They’d have to ride back and report, and by then we should be close enough.” You hope.

“We’ll have to re-form on the flat beyond the woodlot and then advance as a body.”

“We’ll do what we can,” promised Quaeryt.

As the vanguard neared the end of the woodlot, Quaeryt dropped his personal shields and raised a concealment screen. He wasn’t even about to try to hold a concealment shield across the entire regiment for all that long, especially since the distance from where the small woodlot ended to the Bovarian flank was close to half a mille. But if we can get within half of that, and Desyrk and Shaelyt can smoke them …

That would help. Would it help enough?

Quaeryt kept scanning the main Bovarian force, which had formed up on the flatter ground a good half mille from the ridge where Deucalon’s regiments were positioned. So far the Bovarians were not moving.

Why? Because they want Deucalon to attack? That seemed more than likely, since any movement by Deucalon would put him at a disadvantage. That explained why Third Regiment was being ordered to attack.

Quaeryt was beginning to feel the strain of holding the concealment, but continued to wait as Third Regiment re-formed. He looked to Skarpa. “How much longer?”

“Another half quint, at least.”

Frig! Quaeryt managed a nod.

Skarpa added, “Don’t lead. Let Zhelan do it. I need you to hold back with me. We’ll move northeast and pick up the regiment as it withdraws after the first attack. They all have orders to hit hard and then turn north.”

“Understood.” Quaeryt turned in the saddle. “Shaelyt, Desyrk, you heard the commander. Stay with me.”

“Yes, sir.”

Quaeryt thought it was more likely to have been a full quint before Third Regiment began to move westward, but this time he’d taken the precaution of drinking more watered lager, and even eating several hard biscuits, the last of which he washed down hurriedly as the regiment trampled through half-grown maize, and then through a bean field. Finally, when the regiment reached what appeared to be meadow, Quaeryt ordered, “Image smoke! Now!”

Almost instantly, a thin brownish mist appeared-not across the entire front of the Bovarian flank, but for an expanse of perhaps a hundred yards-the center of where Third Regiment was headed. At that point, Quaeryt released the concealment and rebuilt his personal shields.

Third regiment covered almost another hundred yards before there was any noticeable reaction from the Bovarians, and only those to either side of where the smoke/mist had settled. Quaeryt could see more than a few of the foot on the flank that faced in the general direction of Third Regiment rubbing their eyes.

He also saw the pikes, not that the foot bearing them had all turned to face the Telaryn attack. Quaeryt turned in the saddle. “Desyrk … Shaelyt! Stay with the commander. Stay with him.”

Whether Quaeryt liked it or not, if he didn’t do something, the attack would end in disaster. He urged the mare forward, glad that he’d finally learned to ride well enough to match the troopers, until he was in close to the first line. Then he took the half-staff and balanced it across the front of the saddle and extended his personal shields.

As he rode closer to the flank he urged the mare into almost a full gallop and angled her to the south, then with less than fifty yards between him and the pikemen, he turned her back so he would graze across the front line of the pikemen.

As he struck the first pike, a spike of pain vibrated through him, but he kept riding as the intensity of the pain built until he could barely see. Finally, after a sweep of perhaps a hundred yards he turned into the ranks of the oncoming Third Regiment, slowing and contracting his shield to cover but himself and the mare, and hoping the rankers could avoid him.

Miraculously, most did, except for one rider who bounced off the shields at an angle.

Quaeryt just let the mare move at a quick trot toward the company to the north where he trusted Skarpa was slowly moving to join up with Deucalon’s forces. Quaeryt glanced back over his shoulder.

The battalions of Third Regiment had most definitely torn a hole in the flank of the Bovarians and were already withdrawing. As the Telaryn cavalry troopers rode back north, most of them it appeared, Quaeryt could see that at least part of the Bovarian mounted was beginning to pursue.

He urged the mare into a faster trot. He felt damp spots on his face. Was he bleeding and not even aware of it? Then he realized that the sky had darkened, and a slight drizzle had begun. While the clouds directly overhead were light gray, those to the north appeared far darker and more ominous, but there wasn’t too much he could do about that.

“You got them all riled up. Here they come!” called Skarpa as Quaeryt neared. “I was hoping they’d do that. We’re headed east of Deucalon’s force. If there aren’t too many Bovarians on the triangle, we’ll take them. If there are, we’ll rein in and see if we can hold them in place.”

As Quaeryt eased past the two imagers, Shaelyt, his eyes wide, looked at Quaeryt.

Quaeryt just nodded, slowing the mare to match Skarpa’s pace, looking back. From what he could tell, most of Third Regiment had disengaged … except for what looked to be a company at the south end of the attack that was largely surrounded. Quaeryt managed to get out his water bottle and take several swallows and then recork it.

At least some of the beleaguered company, or companies, managed to break free, if by heading back due east, and after a time, the Bovarians pursuing them turned back more north and moved to join the growing attack on the main Telaryn force.

Skarpa slowed his mount as he and his escort company reached the lower part of the sloping grassy ridge.

An undercaptain rode toward Skarpa. “Commander, you’re to hold the east flank. Those are Marshal Deucalon’s orders.”

“We’ll hold!” Skarpa called back, adding in a much lower voice that could not have carried to the undercaptain. “Until we see if there are any attackers at this end.”

The first companies of Third Regiment were halfway up the slope when Skarpa began to pass his commands. “Third Regiment, re-form uphill of the van! Attack formation! Uphill of the van.”

When Skarpa took his final position, Quaeryt moved beside him, then looked down the slope at the Bovarians moving forward across the last yards of the flat of the meadow at a measured pace. For all that he’d seen Third Regiment inflicting numerous casualties on the attackers, the mass that moved forward seemed little diminished. He glanced to the west, realizing that Deucalon’s force looked almost as large.

After studying Deucalon’s defenses, with the ranks of pikemen across the front, Quaeryt could see why the Bovarian mounted units weren’t moving at a faster pace. They’d wait until the foot engaged the pikemen … or until