March To The Sea

time there was something extra. The rain had stopped, temporarily at least, but a wind was blowing through the treetops. It probably presaged yet another rainstorm, which would be irritating enough, but it was also blowing noisy spatters of water off of leaves and vines. It made hearing difficult, yet there was something else, another rustling half-lost in the background sound, but there.

He turned around and realized he could barely see two mounts behind him.

'First three troopers. Move forward and see what that is. And try not to get yourselves killed.'

A trio of civan trotted obediently forward, and he heard one of the all-but- invisible troopers grunting in laughter.

'Yes, Sir. We'll try real hard not to get killed.'

'You'd better,' the cavalry commander said with a grunt of his own. 'Anybody who gets killed tonight is going on report!'

It took only a few moments for the civan to thread their way between the trees. But their approach, quiet as it was, was detected, and the night rang with barbarian warcries from hundreds of lungs.

'Gods of Fire and Darkness!' Pri snapped. 'What in the three hells did we run into? '

One of the troopers he'd sent forward let loose with all seven shots in one of the newly issued revolvers, and the brilliant lightning bolts of the muzzle flashes showed the cavalry commander dozens of barbarians . . . and probably hundreds more behind them.

'Spread out!' he shouted. 'I need some sort of accurate count!'

The commander spurred his civan to the south, searching for the tail of the barbarian column as the Boman charged straight into the swirling cavalry of the Basik's Own. Finally, as the shots rose to a crescendo, he decided he'd seen enough.

'Sound the recall!' he ordered the hornmen, who'd somehow kept up through the woods. 'Sound a general retreat. Hopefully, they'll fall back to the infantry.'

He picked the communicator off his breast as he turned to the northeast, wondering how to tell Roger that the entire force was apparently cut off. Behind him, the horns began to sound.

The enemy was upon them.

* * *

'Well, gentlemen, this is what happens when you draw to an inside straight,' Pahner said.

'It might not be that bad,' Bogess said. 'If it's a small force, we can beat it off.'

'According to Chim Pri, it's at least a thousand or two thousand,' the Marine said, 'and our last sizable cavalry force—his—is scattered through the woods and all mixed up amongst them. So it's not going to be easy to stop them.'

'Should we stop the loading?' Rus From asked.

'Not unless we have to,' Pahner said. 'Pull one regiment off of loading duties just in case, but basically, it's up to Roger now. If he beats them, we'll continue as we're going. If he's forced out of position or flanked, we'll start pulling troops off of loading to form a front facing towards D'Sley.' The Marine paused and shook his head. 'Did I just say what I think I said?'

'You said we should pull a battalion off of loading and that it's up to Roger,' Bogess said. 'Is that what you mean?'

'Yes,' the captain said with a grimace. 'I'm supposed to be protecting Roger, not the other way around. This is not going to look good in my report.'

'You have to write the report for it to look good or bad,' Rus From said with a grunt of laughter. 'Let Roger look out for himself.'

'Lord, Lord, Lord,' the Marine groaned. 'His mother's going to kill me.'

* * *

Roger dropped his pad into its pouch and shook his head. He already knew the terrain, and there was nowhere to anchor his flank. There was a stream not too far behind them, though, that would work to control the line.

'Turkol, we're backing up to the far side of the stream. Put one company in reserve, spread the other three in a line, and start working out a light defense work. Have them dig in good; we're not backing up any further.'

'Got it,' the infantry battalion commander said. 'What about the flanks?'

'If we can get the cavalry back in, we'll have it cover them. Until then, I'll split the Marines and put them in place as security teams.' He thought about it for a moment more, but there wasn't much else to do. 'Move.'

* * *

'Roger,' Pri said into the communicator, 'where the hell are you? And where the hell am I, for that matter?'

'Do you remember crossing a small stream on your way out?' the prince responded, gazing at the icon the location transponder in Pri's communicator had thrown up on the map on his pad.

'Yes, I'm on the same trail we followed on the way out, I think.' The cavalry commander looked around. He heard occasional pistol shots behind him, but he had at least half his command regrouped.

'We're setting up on the stream. Are you in contact with the Boman?'

'No,' Pri said. 'Not as an organized body, at least. Some of my people are still out there, and I can hear them shooting, but it's blacker than the inside of an atul's nest, and I can't see crap. We broke contact as soon as we realized we were outnumbered, though, and I'm pretty sure my stragglers all know which way to head.'

'Well, get back down there. Stay together this time, and hit them hard, then fall back in contact. We need them to come to us from the direction of our choice, and the only way to make sure they do is for you to lead them right in. We've got you on our pads and helmet HUDs, and Despreaux or I can guide you, roughly, at least, if you lose orientation on our position.'

'Got it,' the cavalryman said, glad to have orders, even if they were mildly crazy. 'You do realize that there are over two thousand of them, right?'

'Fine,' Roger said. 'Just get them to the stream, and Turkol will do the rest. Oh, and when you get close, you'd better start sounding your horns.'

* * *

Roger strode along the line of digging riflemen and grinned.

'I thought you New Model Army boys could dig! What are you, a bunch of women?'

A shovelful of wet dirt, half mud, came flying out of the darkness and hit his chest in answer.

'We're so good we can hit you in the dark, Sir!'

'As long as you can hoist them as well as you throw them,' Roger said with a laugh. 'We've got about two thousand Boman coming at us, so I think you're going to appreciate a wall in a little bit.'

'Don't worry, Your Highness,' one of the riflemen said. 'We're not afraid to die for the God.'

A quote came to mind. Roger couldn't remember who'd said it, but it sounded like Miranda MacClintock.

'You're not supposed to die for your God, soldier. You're here to make sure the other poor sod dies for his.'

'Nice,' Bes said as Roger walked back to the command post. The low wall and fighting trench the soldiers were erecting was backed with a small bastion for the commanders. Considering that they'd only been working on it for half an hour, it was quite an accomplishment.

'It was a quote,' the prince admitted. 'I swear, every good military line has already been used by somebody.' He looked at the developing defenses and shook his head. 'Very nice. I suppose if we can't win with this, we don't deserve to. I wonder how it's going north of the river?'

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE