“Would you rather walk out into their grapeshot?” Taniel asked.
“I’d rather,” Bertreau said sourly, “they come to us.”
Their entire strategy depended on exactly that. If the Kez advanced, the garrison could hold the center, gradually withdrawing through the city while Styke made passing strikes at the enemy’s right. Taniel and his Ghost Irregulars already had canoes waiting in the river, allowing them to skirt the enemy left and hit them from behind. But Jiffou, it seemed, was having none of it.
A nearby explosion made Taniel jump, and he turned just in time to see one of the other fort towers take a direct hit from a mortar and topple on its side, sending its occupants tumbling like toys.
Bertreau relocated her vantage point to a chapel bell tower further into the city, though smoke from spreading house fires and spent powder obscured almost the entire battlefield. Taniel squinted into the haze, listening carefully for the sound of snare drums that would indicate the Kez advance.
“They’re not coming,” Bertreau finally said after nearly two hours of the constant bombardment. The last of the garrison cannons had been destroyed. Nothing opposed the Kez artillery and Taniel had the gut-wrenching feeling, deep down, that Bertreau was right. The Kez would continue their attack from a distance until there was nothing left to fight them.
The garrison hid in the dubious shelter of blasted buildings, their numbers depleted by exploding shot, their faces grim. Taniel could see the doubt in their eyes – only three-quarters remained able-bodied. A few hours ago they were ready to die for their homes and families and now they wondered if they still had time to run. Of the assembled men, only Ka-poel seemed unfazed.
The strike of horseshoes on cobbles approached, and Taniel caught sight of Ben Styke riding along down the street, an imposing figure on his armored warhorse, lance balanced on his stirrup. He stopped below the church, putting up his visor, and called up to them.
“I’ve had my lancers riding lookout for over an hour. The Kez aren’t even trying to flank or cut us off.”
“They don’t have to,” Bertreau replied bitterly. “They’ll sift through the ashes of the city in a few days then ride down any survivors.”
Styke’s horse pranced beneath him, and Taniel wondered how any creature could feel giddy with so much weight on its back. Styke patted its armored neck with one gauntlet. “I’m not going to wait around to die.”
“If we retreat, these people die.” Bertreau gestured at the city around them, several dozen blocks of which were already in ruins.
“Retreat?” Styke laughed. “Who said anything about retreating?”
Taniel did some quick math in his head. The numbers – and the feeling in his gut – told him that their best chance was still to fight a defensive battle. “If we charge, we’re giving up any chance of withdrawal,” he said.
“I’ve got three hundred heavy lancers, Two-shot. My lancers do not withdraw. We’re preparing to charge as we speak.”
“You’ll get cut to ribbons by that artillery!”
“They won’t even see what hits them,” Styke shot back.
Taniel felt a knot tighten in his stomach. Damn it, Styke was suicidal. Styke stared up at him for several moments before lowering his visor and riding back the way he’d come. Taniel thought once again about Lindet’s warning. Styke would get them all killed.
And Taniel, he decided suddenly, was going to help him.
“Where the pit is he going?” Bertreau asked.
“He’s going to charge the enemy.”
“He’s going to…” Bertreau trailed off, her attention on soldiers down at the other end of the street, before her head whipped around to face Taniel. “Kresimir above, he’s going to what? Three hundred lancers against fifteen times their number in infantry? Is he a bloody idiot?”
Taniel ran down the belfry steps and into the street, after Styke. His heart was hammering in his chest, but he already knew what they had to do before he spoke it. “Pole!” he called over his shoulder. “Check on the Ghost Irregulars. Make sure the canoes are ready.”
“Ready for what?” Bertreau demanded, running to keep up with him. “The Ghost Irregulars aren’t taking the canoes until the Kez have committed to the city. To do otherwise would leave them sitting ducks.”
“Oh, I know,” Taniel said. “I’ll be with them. Styke! Styke!” He found Styke two streets down, heading toward the city center. “You’re going in?” he asked once Styke had wheeled to face him.
“I am,” Styke said.
“Major,” Taniel said, turning as Bertreau caught up again. “You have to follow him.”
“You’re as mad as he is!” Bertreau said.
“Maybe,” Taniel answered. “But we’re never going to have the advantage in this fight. Styke’s going to charge no matter what we say, and if you take the garrison in after him we might catch them by surprise.”
“Tell me, Two-shot, have you ever surprised anyone to death?” Bertreau demanded.
Taniel grimaced. This was suicide. He knew it, Styke knew it, and he could see in her eyes that Bertreau knew it too. Still, he pressed with a confidence he didn’t feel, “If we hit them hard, right up the middle, they might break. If they break, we win – outnumbered or not.”
“The Kez infantry are conscripts,” he continued. “They’re not that much different from us, except they really don’t want to be here. Their officers are nobility. The infantry know that no matter how hard they fight, they’ll never advance the ranks. This makes them particularly susceptible to a rout. Hit them hard enough and they do not bend. They break.”
Bertreau’s eyes narrowed, and she glanced between Taniel and Styke. “You sound dangerously like your father,” she said.
I bet he never did anything quite this stupid, Taniel thought. “Styke will lead through the center. He’s the wedge. You and the garrison will drive the wedge home. I’ll take the Ghost Irregulars along the far side of the river and come around behind them to cause panic, killing officers as I go. It’ll work.” It has to, or we’re dead.
Bertreau eyed Taniel for several moments, then gave a tired nod. “All right, Two-shot. We’ll do it your way. You,” she said, pointing at Styke, “had better damn well account for yourself before they take you down.”
“I’ll do my work,” Styke said. “Just do yours. And Two-shot, don’t kill Jiffou.”
“Why not?” Taniel asked. The moment he got a bead on the Kez general, he intended to pull the trigger.
“Because you’ve made them familiar with the murder of their officers,” Styke said. “It’s no longer shocking. If you want them to break, truly, you can’t just shoot the head. You’ve got to cut it off, remove the eyes and tongue, and hang it by the hair from the highest branches.”
“And how,” Taniel asked, “do you intend to do that?”
Styke put his visor back down, and his voice echoed from within. “I’m going to slaughter him and his whole officer corp.”
Taniel found Ka-poel waiting at the keelboat docks not far from Fort Planth, along with almost two hundred and fifty men – a mix of the Ghost Irregulars and their Palo allies. He paused to take stock of the soldiers, worn out from skirmishing with the Kez these last two days, but didn’t find a coward among them. There was hesitation in some of their eyes, even fear, but it was accompanied by the stubborn set of the jaw.
The Ghost Irregulars wouldn’t run until he gave the order.
Taniel slapped Sergeant Mapel on the back, jumping up on a crate to see the whole group and grabbing Mapel’s shoulder for balance. He suddenly felt very young and small, as many of these men were old enough to be his father, but knew that it was more important to show confidence now than ever.