It was a foolish method of attack, in Tamas’s opinion, but the Kez commanders had always favored a massed rush – no matter the cost in lives – above guile.
And it just might work. The key to throwing back the Kez assault would be to break the resolve of their second wave. To kill the Wardens and send the veterans running for cover. It would be hard to break such a sizable force.
But not impossible.
Which is where the Seventh and the Ninth came in. Once the Kez committed the main body, Tamas would order his men over the knoll at a dead charge into the Kez flank.
No matter the size of a crowd, they’d run if panic seized them.
The Kez cannon had been moved forward before dawn. They pounded away at Budwiel’s fortifications, answered in turn by Hilanska’s heavy artillery.
Tamas watched as the Kez infantry fell into rank a few hundred yards behind their artillery. He felt his stomach lurch.
“That’s a lot of men, sir,” Olem said from beside him.
“A great many,” Tamas agreed. Was that unease in Olem’s voice? Tamas couldn’t blame him if it was. That many soldiers would make anyone nervous.
“Think we can break them?”
“We’d better. The cavalry will help.”
“We’ve only two hundred, though,” Olem said.
“All we need is the illusion of a brigade of cavalry. We’re here to cause panic, and then slaughter. Not the other way around.”
During the night, they’d had enough time to bring two hundred cavalry through the caverns. It was a testament to Tamas’s engineers that they’d managed to get the caverns wide enough to accommodate the passage of ten thousand men plus a platoon of horse in just one night.
The real victory of the night, however, had been six field guns. Small, firing six-pound balls, and with five-foot wheels that would allow them to be moved easily, they were just enough to give the impression of an entire army on the Kez flank.
Tamas let his mind wander to the aftermath of the battle. They could rout the Kez, but they wouldn’t be able to pursue for long. Tens of thousands would be dead, but to the Kez that was just another number. They would still have hundreds of thousands left. This battle would be to break the morale of their army. The Kez couldn’t afford another loss on the psychological level of the Battle of Shouldercrown.
Tamas’s spies already reported that there were grumblings in Ipille’s ministry. Given enough of a spark, the army might even turn on Ipille, though that seemed too much to even hope.
“Sir,” Olem said. “The columns are advancing.”
Tamas pulled himself back to the present. It was bad luck to think of victory as the battle started. He had plans in place. If triumph came, then it would be time to implement them. Not now.
“Signal the men to get ready.”
Vlora crawled onto the knoll next to Tamas as Olem hurried away.
“Are your men in place?” Tamas asked.
“You mean Andriya’s men, sir?”
Tamas could hear the bitterness in her voice. He’d given Andriya command of the powder cabal for this battle, and it irked her. Tamas fought down his own annoyance. When would she learn that, skilled though she was, she did not have the experience to be in command?
“My powder mages,” Tamas said sternly. “Are they in place?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And you’ve sighted the last of the Kez Privileged?”
“They’re hanging back,” Vlora said. “They think we’re on Budwiel’s walls, waiting for them, so they’re well behind the columns. Quite within range of us here. You signal the attack, sir, and we’ll drop the Privileged.”
“Excellent. Get to your position.”
Vlora crawled off the knoll without another word. Tamas looked over his shoulder to watch her go.
“All ready, sir.” Olem came jogging up the hill and threw himself to the ground beside Tamas. “Time to hurry up and wait.” He caught the way Tamas was looking.
“Still thinking of punching her, sir?”
Tamas gave Olem a wry look. Since when had his men gotten away with speaking that way to him? “No.”
“You seem angry, sir.”
“She has a lot of growing up to do still. I’m mostly sad. Had things gone differently, she might be my daughter-in-law by now.” He sighed and brought the looking glass back to his eye. “Taniel might not have been on that damned mountain and lying in a coma under the House of Nobles.”
Olem’s voice was quiet. “He might not have been there to put a bullet in Kresimir’s eye and save us all, sir.”
Tamas drummed his fingers against his looking glass. Olem was right, of course. Change one event in history, and you might as well change everything that followed. What concerned him now was trying to find a way to bring Taniel out of his coma, and to keep his body safe until he did.
As if he could read Tamas’s thoughts, Olem said, “He’ll be all right, sir. I’ve got some of my best Riflejacks keeping an eye on him.”
Tamas wanted to turn to Olem, to thank him for the reassurance. But now was not the time for worry or sentiment. “The lines are beginning to advance,” Tamas said. “Make sure the men hold. I don’t want the Kez to know we’re coming until the right moment.”
“They’ll hold,” Olem said with confidence.
“Make certain. Personally.”
Olem moved off to check on the brigades, leaving Tamas alone on the knoll for a few precious moments. Soon, an unending stream of messengers would be requesting further orders as the battle began and raged throughout the day.
Tamas closed his eyes and envisioned the battlefield as a crow might.
Kez infantry formed a half circle facing Budwiel’s walls. Their ranks would tighten as they advanced to account for the terrain, and fill in the gaps from casualties caused by Adran cannon. A single line of Kez cavalry, perhaps one thousand strong, waited on the Great Northern Road for the infantry to take the walls and throw open the gates, at which time they would charge into the city. The rest of their cavalry camped over two miles behind the battlefield. Most of them weren’t even on their horses. They didn’t think they’d be needed today.
The Kez reserves waited behind the rest of the army. Their numbers were a terrible sight, but Tamas’s looking glass and his spies told another story: They were there for show only. Only one out of five had a musket. Their uniforms were mismatched and off-color. Tamas shook his head. The Kez had more men than they had guns. The reserves would break and run at the first sign of his troops.
The rat-tat-tat-tat of Kez drummers reverberated against the mountains, and Tamas felt the ground tremble as the mass of Kez infantry began their advance. He directed his glass toward the walls of Budwiel.
The heavy artillery, already firing on the Kez field guns, redoubled their efforts as the wall of infantry crept closer. Tamas could see soldiers of the Second on the walls, their Adran blues looking sharp, their discipline steady.
As the lines of Kez infantry reached the killing field, artillery blasted holes in their ranks. Those holes were quickly closed, and the tan-and-green uniforms marched onward, leaving a hundred dead for every dozen paces they gained. The smell of gunpowder reached Tamas on the wind and he took a deep breath, savoring the bitter sulfur.
He climbed to his feet and motioned over his signal-flag man. On the field below their vantage point, he watched as the mass of Kez reserves shifted forward to take places behind the infantry. Tamas scowled. If they were to take the city, it would be with the mass of infantry. Why would they even move the reserves into position…?