The ranker paid no attention.
Quaeryt jabbed his heels into the mare’s flank, and she bolted forward. This time, Quaeryt held the half-staff forward at an angle, again braced against the front edge of the pommel.
The hill rider didn’t seem to see Quaeryt until the last moment, just before the half-staff took him at the edge of his chest and then caught his arm, twisting him in the saddle. After that, Quaeryt had to hang on because the mare definitely hadn’t appreciated the boot heels in her flanks-or maybe that had told her she was free to run.
For the next half quint or so, Quaeryt was more worried about staying in the saddle and dodging trees than defending or attacking the enemy. Yet … when he slowed the mare, and took stock, he was within a few yards of the western outrider of Gauswn’s company … at least, that was what he thought he saw through eyes still tearing and stabbing with muted pain. Fortunately, there didn’t seem to be any more hill riders around.
He turned the mare more to the west, angling behind the staggered remnants of the first lines of Meinyt’s company and riding until he could make out the figure of the older captain, barely, given his blurred vision, who had reined up at the edge of a wide clearing bordering the south edge of the road to Boralieu. On the road were other Telaryn riders, roughly ranked. Quaeryt could see a battalion ensign, but couldn’t read it the way his eyes were twitching. He glanced to the west, looking for the sun.
Somehow … it was approaching noon. He reined up, not knowing what else he was supposed to do.
“Are you all right, scholar?” asked Meinyt.
The pain in Quaeryt’s eyes was so great that even squinting he couldn’t make out the captain’s expression.
“You’ve got blood on your sleeve,” added Meinyt.
Quaeryt looked down at his left arm. There was indeed a large smear of blood, but there was no cut in the cloth. He gingerly felt the forearm … sore already and probably bruised, but it didn’t feel like there was any wet blood or stickiness beneath.
“Someone else’s blood, I think. I’m bruised all over.”
The captain turned his head, but said nothing.
“I wedged the staff under the pommel of the saddle and stuck it out sideways … well, up a little. It worked, but it strained every muscle in my arms and shoulders. Then I blocked lances and a sabre somehow, but I’ve got bruises everywhere.…”
“I saw it, Captain, sir,” called a ranker. “He wedged himself sort of between two trees and stopped two mounts and their riders. Both went down so hard … never get up.”
“Why…?” Meinyt never finished the question.
“They had very sharp lances, and they were aimed at me. You said we weren’t supposed to let them pass. I did what I could.”
Meinyt looked back to the ranker.
“He stopped ’em, sir. Stopped dead. Didn’t see how … had to worry about some others.”
Meinyt nodded to the ranker, then, abruptly, laughed. “Trees and staffs … never heard of such.”
Quaeryt just hoped that none of the other rankers had seen any more. And, as sore as he’d been that morning, he had no doubts that he’d feel worse the next morning.
79
By less than a glass after midday, Major Skarpa had all the companies of Sixth Battalion in position on the west side of the hillside clearing overlooking the valley that held Boralieu. Quaeryt’s vision had largely returned, although his head still throbbed, and even the idea of raising shields was painful. He’d also rolled up the green shirt, which he thought of as his patrol and combat shirt, and wore just his browns.
As he stood just beyond the shoulder of the road, looking westward, he could see that the valley was very different from what he recalled. Most of the ground for a good half mille east of Boralieu, perhaps even a full mille, was dotted with ponds, lakes, and flooded fields. Although it was hard to tell, the flooding appeared to encircle the entire knoll on which the post had been built. A timber palisade had also been erected on a smaller knoll to the east of the walls, overlooking the raised road leading across the flooded land. For several moments, he stood there, considering the change, before Meinyt walked up beside him.
“What are you looking at, scholar?”
“The ground … the fields just east of Boralieu. Look closely.”
“What the Namer…” muttered Meinyt. “Never seen that before.”
“They must have diverted a stream or something,” said Quaeryt.
“Why would they…? Oh … the road’s the only easy way to the post.”
“Or from it, and that would restrict the ability of the companies at Boralieu to attack that temporary fort unless they wanted to take a lot of casualties.”
Meinyt gave a sound that was half grunt, half assent before he turned to face Quaeryt full on. “According to the men, scholar, you did a lot of damage with your little staff today. One man even claims you saved his life by unhorsing someone he didn’t see.”
“I yelled, but he didn’t hear me. I had to do something.”
Meinyt snorted. “Too many dead heroes felt that way.”
“The man who was attacking him didn’t see me.”
“That’s more the way it should be. Officers shouldn’t try to be heroes. They should be officers. Otherwise, who’s left to lead the men?”
That was another thing Quaeryt hadn’t considered. But then, he wasn’t an officer, not really, and he certainly wasn’t in the chain of command. Still … were he in Meinyt’s position, where would he draw the line?
“Good. You’re thinking,” said the captain.
Quaeryt didn’t retort that he always tried to think. He merely nodded.
The sound of a horn blared from somewhere nearby.
“Officers’ meeting…” Meinyt turned and headed in the direction of the horn.
Quaeryt decided to trail along, although he planned to be as inconspicuous as possible, browns or not, at the back of the officers gathering. The air was dusty, not surprisingly, with all the horses around, and there was already a faint odor of decay.
The number of officers wasn’t quite so great as Quaeryt had expected, although there were certainly more than fifty, and he positioned himself behind two taller men and waited. Shortly, there was another horn call-this one calling the officers to attention. Quaeryt stiffened with the rest of the officers, then waited as Rescalyn vaulted up onto the back of the supply wagon, likely moved into the middle of the temporary encampment for just that purpose.
The governor stood there for a moment, before commanding, “At ease, officers.”
Those around Quaeryt relaxed, but only slightly.
“So far … things are going more our way than theirs. If you’ve looked down at the valley, you’ll notice that it looks a great deal wetter than any of you recall. That’s because the hill renegades breached some of the irrigation dams and diverted the streams. They didn’t think too far ahead … or they miscalculated your abilities. It could be both, but I’m proud of the way you all handled your men and the way they responded this morning. All Telaryn should be proud, not that most will ever know. The enemy casualties were considerable, and ours were comparatively light.
“Because of the flooding in the valley, we’re going to shift our plan of attack … slightly. The main body of hill renegades has retreated to the west, out of the valley, but they’ve left a garrison behind those palisade walls. We’re not going to storm their little fort. Instead, the engineers have a way to deal with that. They’ll only need the support of Eighth Battalion, but I’m asking Seventh to stand by just in case.
“The rest of you can use the remainder of the day to re-form and recover. We won’t be entering Boralieu … for obvious reasons…”
It took Quaeryt a moment to realize that, if the regiment entered the post, the rebels could easily return, and the governor’s forces would be the ones hemmed in and hampered by all the flooded ground.