Taniel said a few words – he couldn’t remember after what they were, and he doubted anyone else could either – and then they filled the grave with stones, covered it with soil, and carved her name deep into the flesh of the cypress: here lies Major Bertreau, died defending Planth from the Kez in K.Y.1521.
The Ghost Irregulars returned to the city one at a time until only Taniel and Ka-poel remained, rain running off the brims of their hats, clothes soaked through. Taniel found himself thinking of the poor drawing he had of Bertreau in his sketchbook and wishing he’d had the chance to do a better job.
Men died all the time, friends, enemies, and strangers, and Taniel had always felt detached from the fact, as if it was happening in a dream instead of real life. But this seemed different. He’d urged Bertreau into the teeth of the Kez army and she’d died because of it.
“We lost half the garrison the other day,” Taniel said, “and I don’t give a shit about any of them even though they died in the same fight as Bertreau.”
Ka-poel gestured and shook her head. You didn’t know them.
“I didn’t really know Bertreau either,” Taniel said. “She wasn’t even that good of an officer.” But, he thought to himself, perfect for what we needed out here in the swamps. He kicked a clod of wet soil onto the grave and began walking toward Planth. He emerged from the swamp on the west bank of the Tristan River and paused to gaze upon the city.
Three days had passed since the battle. The fires were all out, bucket brigades aided by a rainstorm that now refused to leave. Some of the fleeing settlers had tentatively returned to the city while others continued to trickle out, worried by the presence of the Kez army still camped a few miles to their south. The city was a wreck, testament to how much damage just a handful of artillery could do in a few hours, though Taniel tried to remind himself that the northern half of the city was still generally intact.
Taniel and Ka-poel rowed across the river to where a familiar figure waited for them on the far bank.
Styke wore his faded yellow cavalry jacket and pants and stood without a hat, the rain trickling down his face. His jaw was black and blue from where the Warden had struck him but he seemed otherwise whole, pulling their canoe onto the bank with one hand.
“She was a tough woman,” Styke said. “Pit of a thing, leading an untrained garrison into the teeth of the damned like that.”
After you, you big bloody fool. Taniel almost spat the words out loud, a war of emotion going through his head. He wanted to punch Styke square in the face – which, after what he’d seen him do to the Warden, seemed like a bad idea – but he also knew deep down that if they’d hunkered down Planth, they would have lost the city. Styke’s mad charge had saved them all. Bertreau’s sacrifice had saved them all.
Taniel bit down on his tongue for several moments before nodding. “Have we heard from the Kez yet?”
“They want to talk,” Styke said.
He and Styke, accompanied by a few dozen Mad Lancers decked out in their armor, met the Kez delegation in approximately the same spot they’d met General Jiffou five afternoons ago. Taniel’s group arrived first and watched the others approach at a distance.
“They look more wet and miserable than I feel,” Taniel said.
Styke snorted. “The storm will have softened them up. They camped too close to the river and half a dozen of their supply wagons floated away last night. They’ve no way to dry their clothes, tents, or powder.”
“You’ve had them watched?” Taniel asked, shooting Styke a sharp glance.
“Closely. Also been taking counts. That battle cost them four casualties for every one of ours, and word has it infection is going rampant among their wounded.”
Taniel shook his head. He shouldn’t be surprised to find Styke attentive enough to spy on the Kez. He was, after all, a decorated colonel. But the single-mindedness of his fighting spirit made it hard to see anything else but the Mad Lancer.
The Kez delegation came to a stop a dozen yards away. “They look…” Taniel said, “younger.”
“That’s Major Bahr,” Styke responded. “Thanks to you, he’s the highest-ranking officer in their brigade right now.”
Major Bahr couldn’t have been older than thirty. He was a stout man, the buttons of his jacket a little tight around his waist, but he handled his horse comfortably as he closed the gap between them. He looked over his shoulder once then cleared his throat.
“Colonel Styke,” he said.
“Major Bahr. Pleased to meet you. Have you come to offer your surrender?”
The joke seemed entirely out of place, but to be honest, Taniel wasn’t sure it was a joke.
“I’ve come to ask for the surrender of the city.”
“You think we’ll hand over the city after the thrashing we gave you the other day?” Taniel asked.
“Using our own bugle signals to force a retreat was inspired, to be sure, but it hardly constitutes a thrashing. You have nothing left – half a thousand men at best, and no artillery. If I press, the city will fall.”
“If you press,” Taniel said, “I will put a bullet between your eyes. You won’t even see if coming.” His father had always told him that the threat of a powder mage to the enemy officers should be silent and implied, or it would lose its potency. Taniel had heard his father break his own rule on more than one occasion and thought this was just as good of a spot to do so again.
Styke’s warhorse danced beneath him, and Styke added, “Once he’s done that, I’ll ride my lancers up and down your ranks until I trample every last one of you into the mud.”
“Lindet is long gone,” Taniel said. “The city is a ruin and half the people have left. There’s nothing here for you but bugs, snakes, and malevolence. Turn around, and the Tristan Ghost Irregulars will leave you alone until you’re well out of the Basin. I give you my word.”
Bahr cleared his throat a second time, looking between Styke and Taniel, before he finally settled his gaze somewhere in between. “Our intelligence confirms that Lindet fled almost a week ago. Our officer corps has been all but destroyed, and I am not willing to advance without replacements. I give you notice that the brigade intends to withdraw tomorrow morning and I hope you’ll stick to your promise of an unmolested retreat. Good day, sirs.”
Taniel watched the Kez delegation return to their camp. Despite the horror of the last few days, he felt a sudden lightness in his chest.
“We won,” he breathed.
Styke chuckled. “Chubby bastard just tried to bluff us. Good for him.” He looked up into the sky. “Rain’s clearing up.”
“We won,” Taniel repeated. “We didn’t just buy time. We saved the city.” He could hardly believe it. The mad charge, the loss of half the garrison, even Bertreau’s death – it hadn’t been for nothing.
Styke leaned over and slapped him on the shoulder, almost knocking him off his horse. “Well done, Two-shot. You saved a lot of lives.”
“So did you.”
Styke shrugged. “I just ride.”
Taniel wondered how much Styke was deferring credit, and how much he truly had led the charge out of something else – a lust for glory, a suicidal touch, or just a deep-set madness. Styke himself might not know.
Taniel frowned, looking over his shoulder at the ruins of Planth. Styke followed his gaze and must have sensed something of what he was thinking because he said, “I’ve seen dead cities before, with the land salted and the foundations destroyed. Planth is not that. It’s a crossroads. The people will return and rebuild.”
There was an optimism in his tone that made Taniel smile, and he knew that Lindet was not wholly right about Styke. Styke cared. He’d see that these people survived.