Taniel pursed his lips. Lindet’s imperiousness reminded him of an Adran noble, from the way she lifted her chin to the expectation of immediate obedience. But there was a dangerous competence behind her stiff demeanor that reminded him also of his father – something pragmatic and very un–noble-like. “Is that all?” he asked.
Lindet took a step closer to him. Taniel was running a strong powder trance. He could kill her before any of her Blackhats could react, and maybe even get away in the chaos but he still felt like he was the one who should be cautious.
“If you do manage to survive,” Lindet said quietly, “And to save a few thousand Planth citizens, I will pin a medal on your chest when I win this war. But know this: I will remember this insubordination forever. Accidents happen, Two-shot. Even to powder mages.”
Taniel noted the way she said when she won the war, not if. She truly believed she couldn’t lose, and Taniel found himself believing as well.
“I’ll remember too,” he replied. “I’ll remember that you’re the type of person to abandon ten thousand people to die in order to play it safe.”
Lindet pulled herself onto her horse, tugging the reins expertly to wheel around Taniel several times, looking down on him. “I should warn you. My spies tell me that the Privileged have several Wardens with them. Good luck, Two-shot. And be wary. Don’t think you can trust Styke. He is a mad dog without a leash. If you don’t get yourself killed, he’ll do it for you.”
Taniel felt the butt of his rifle kick back into his shoulder. He immediately burned the extra powder in his jacket pocket, willing the bullet he’d just fired along its path for far longer than any projectile should have stayed in the air. It traveled a hundred yards, then five, then a thousand, until he let it drop suddenly to slam into a Kez Privileged riding her horse along the highway.
Taniel’s aim was slightly off at the end and the bullet took the Privileged in the forehead instead of the left eye. The body jerked back in the saddle, slumping to one side, and her bodyguards erupted into chaos.
Taniel watched just long enough to be sure he’d made a kill before handing his rifle to Ka-poel, who swung it over her back and began to descend through the branches of the cypress. They found their canoe hidden in some nearby reeds and set off through the myriad of river channels, heading south. Ka-poel turned back to him and held up two fingers.
“One down,” Taniel agreed. “Two to go.”
The swift cracking of a barrage of musket fire echoed through the distant trees, and Taniel turned his head to try and pinpoint the location. It took him a few moments before he decided that no, those weren’t muskets. They were rifles. Hrusch rifles. Somewhere north of him the Ghost Irregulars had engaged the Kez.
He and Ka-poel paddled their canoe downriver for almost a mile, hiding in inlets from the occasional Kez patrol, before they stashed it again and headed across the highway. They managed to remain unseen by the few bedraggled, lagging rear wagons of the Kez train and then headed north for a ways before they found a good tree to climb.
Their newest vantage gave them a fantastic view of the Kez army, snaking its way along the Basin Highway as it approached Planth.
By Taniel’s estimate, the Kez vanguard was less than six miles from Planth. They’d slowed considerably as they approached, likely expecting that fierce resistance that Lindet had planned for them before she decided to flee. So as not to disappoint them, Bertreau and the Ghost Irregulars had split into two parties and were harassing the vanguard’s flanks. On the road, Styke’s lancers had discarded their lances and armor in favor of mobility and were keeping the Kez from mounting a proper reconnaissance of the city.
It was a simple ruse, and Taniel hoped that it would gain the people leaving Planth an extra half-day. The real problems would begin once the Kez finally reached the city and discovered how few troops remained to defend it.
Taniel remained in the treetop for almost three hours, watching the Kez army creep forward, both he and Ka-poel keeping a steady eye out for the remaining Privileged. Mid-afternoon came and went and they changed positions, and then after a light supper of jerky and dry corn cakes Ka-poel went to move their canoe up the river.
She returned just as the sun was beginning to touch the treetops to the west, settling in on the branch beside him and shooting him a quizzical look.
“Nothing,” he responded. “Even the ranking officers are keeping their heads bloody-well down.”
It wasn’t difficult to find a Privileged. Taniel could open his Third Eye, looking from this world into a parallel one in which a sorcerous aura surrounded anyone with magical abilities. There were ways, however, that a Privileged could mask their aura and remain undetected for periods of time. Taniel didn’t understand it entirely, but knew it wasn’t easy. It was a testament to his reputation that these Privileged thought it worth their effort. They weren’t taking any chances with the lone powder mage lurking in the swamp.
Such a thought should have cheered him up – Privileged, dealers of death and sorcery, afraid of him – but it only annoyed him.
“Just poke your head up so you can die,” he whispered, sighting along his rifle and doing another sweep of the camp. Even the Privileged’s guards were disguising themselves as ordinary soldiers to stay hidden.
All he could do was hope that one of them made a mistake before the sun set.
“I guess,” he said, referring to the Privileged, “that staying hidden means they’re not engaging either Styke or the Ghost Irregulars. So that’s good?”
Ka-poel pulled a sour face.
“Yeah. They can just wait and kill us all tomorrow when we’re defending the city.” Taniel swore to himself. His body ached from crouching in the treetops all day. It was a deep ache and was even leaking through the powder trance he kept up so he could watch the enemy movements with the greatest precision. “You haven’t seen any Wardens, have you?” he asked.
Ka-poel shook her head.
“Lindet said they had a few.” A shiver went down his spine. “I really don’t want to run into a Warden.” He said a quick prayer that Lindet’s spies were wrong, but he wasn’t going to waste too much hope on the thought. Wardens were sorcery-twisted humans, spawned by the horrid magics of the Kez cabal, and most Kez Privileged kept them nearby. They were fast, incredibly strong, and merciless. Like rabid dogs they knew no fear, and could move so swiftly through the ranks, killing as they went, that they were worth thirty or forty ordinary soldiers on a battlefield.
Tomorrow was not going to be a good day.
“Wait,” Taniel said, half to himself. He paused in his long examination of the Kez army and adjusted his aim slightly, looking down the barrel of his rifle. An extra pinch of powder sharpened his eyesight, and he noticed four Kez infantrymen walking in a very tight formation around a fifth. All five men’s shoulders were touching and none of them were carrying muskets.
Privileged hated being too close to gunpowder.
Taniel focused on the infantryman in the middle. A man of medium height, his shako was slightly off-kilter and his uniform seemed quite a bit too big on him. Taniel watched the group march for several minutes, noting the way they lagged behind, how the man in the middle walked slightly bow-legged, like someone who was used to riding horses or in carriages.
Taniel pulled the trigger, burning powder as the crack of the rifle echoed in his ear. He guided the bullet along its path, adjusting for wind, drop, and troop movement, fueling its trajectory with miniscule flares of powder until it blew through the middle soldier’s throat, splashing crimson across the tan coats of his companions.