“Andriya bagged one, too. He’s portioning it out to the powder mages. This one’s for the officers.”
Tamas chewed on the inside of his lip. “Olem. Have it butchered and distributed to the men. A small, raw piece for each. Let them cook it themselves. We break camp in two hours.”
Olem climbed to his feet and stretched. He returned his pistol to his belt and headed off, calling a few names.
“We’ll reach Hune Dora tomorrow by midday, sir,” Vlora said. Her shoulders were stained with blood from the elk. She had to have been burning a powder trance, otherwise there was no way a girl of her size could have carried an entire elk over her shoulders.
“How far?”
“About sixteen miles. Went up that way while hunting.”
“And?”
“A small town, just like Gavril said.”
“Walled?”
“The wall is an old ruin. Eight feet high, maybe. I wouldn’t worry about it, though, sir. The city looks abandoned.”
Abandoned? Tamas had hoped there would be some population, just so he could loot their stores of powder and food.
“Anything else up that direction?
“The terrain turns steep. The road seems to follow the contours of the mountain ridges. Lots of bridges, from what I could see. Once we’re in the forest, the dragoons will have a hard time encircling us.”
“As I’d hoped.”
“The bad news is, the road narrows considerably. We’ll be able to march maybe just three or four men abreast.”
That would require Tamas’s column to extend to almost four miles long. Not conducive to an army being dogged by dragoons. Tamas swore under his breath.
He watched the sky for a moment. There wouldn’t be rain today, he decided.
“I lied, before,” Tamas said.
Vlora frowned at the embers of the fire. “Sir?”
“Back in Budwiel you asked me if there was any news about Taniel. I lied.”
Vlora opened her mouth, but Tamas went on before she could say anything.
“A few days before we went through the caves, I received a message from Adopest. Taniel’s savage was awake.”
“And Taniel?”
“Nothing. But if one of them can come out of it, presumably the other. And I wouldn’t think that little savage girl is stronger than my boy. He’ll…” He heard his voice crack. “He’ll make it.”
He examined Vlora out of the corner of his eye. He thought he saw a tear on her face.
“How is your leg, sir?” she asked.
Tamas looked down at his leg. Mihali had healed it. He could walk. He could ride. Pit, he could dance if he wanted to. But deep inside the calf, it still hurt. The pain throbbed, right where they’d taken that blasted star of gold out of his flesh. Despite the healing powers of a god, there was still something wrong with it.
“It’s fine,” he said. “Good as new.”
“You still walk with a limp,” Vlora said.
“Do I? Just habit.”
Vlora leaned back on her haunches. “I’ve heard that healed tissue has a problem readjusting itself. It needs help. Plenty of exercise and massage. If you’d like…”
“I don’t think I need the gossip that would come out of you rubbing my leg,” Tamas said. He chuckled, and was relieved when Vlora laughed as well.
“I was going to say have Olem do it, sir.”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine.” Tamas watched Vlora a little longer. She glanced up at him, then back at the fire. She still wouldn’t meet his eyes.
He found he missed their old familiarity. If things had gone better, she might be his daughter-in-law by now. Back before she went off to the university, she’d been the one soldier with the gall to call him Tamas. She’d hung on his arm, even hugged him in public.
Before she slept with that fop in Jileman and Taniel broke off their engagement.
Tamas climbed to his feet. “I want you and Andriya to keep on hunting. We need as much meat as we can get.”
“We’re going to run out of powder eventually, sir,” she said.
“Get some from the Seventh’s quartermaster.”
“I meant the whole army.”
Tamas drummed his fingers on his belt. An army on the march, without resupply or even wagons and camp followers. They would run out of everything. Sooner, rather than later. Their only advantage was a swift march, and that was lost with having to forage and the exhaustion brought on by hunger.
“I’ll be sure the mages get what they need.” His powder mages were still each worth more than a dozen men.
Vlora nodded. “I’ll check with the quartermaster.” She stood and abruptly headed off into the camp.
Tamas watched her go, and felt himself an old man, burdened with regret.
The camp grew louder over the next few minutes as the last of the soldiers were roused from their beds. A few cheers went up, and Tamas guessed Olem must have distributed the elk meat. It wasn’t much, not when spread so thinly, but it was a bite more than they’d had.
Tamas broke down and stowed his own tent. He’d just finished tying his bedroll when Olem returned with a bundle of bloody canvas.
“I would have done that, sir,” Olem said.
Tamas eyed the bloody canvas and felt his mouth watering. “I have you doing more important things. I was a soldier once, Olem. I can break camp as well as any man.”
“If you insist, sir.” Olem knelt beside the coals and produced a skewer, then unwrapped the bloody canvas to reveal a hunk of elk meat.
Tamas stood and looked to the south. Somewhere out there, the Kez cavalry were breaking their camp, probably hoping to overtake the Adran brigades before they were able to reach the relative safety of the forest.
Tamas heard, more than saw, a horse galloping through the camp. A few moments later and Gavril emerged from the still-dark morning on a shuddering charger.
Tamas grabbed the horse by the bridle as his brother-in-law swung down. The horse’s sides were lathered, its eyes wild. Gavril had been riding hard.
“Sixteen thousand,” Gavril said. “Ten and a half thousand dragoons and another five and a half of cuirassiers. Three full brigades of cavalry.”
Kresimir. How could they possibly fight that many cavalry? “How far?”
“We can beat them to the forest if we leave now. I’ve not spoken with my northern outriders.”
“Vlora just came from the north. We’re sixteen miles from Hune Dora.”
Gavril accepted an offered canteen from Olem and took a swig, then poured the rest over his head. His body steamed. “We won’t have time to sack the city.”
“She says it’s abandoned. I’ll have some men take a look, but we’ll probably head right past it.”
“Abandoned, eh?” Gavril scratched his bearded chin. “We could make a stand there.”
Tamas cast an anxious glance to the south. He couldn’t see the Kez cavalry, but it seemed to him he could sense them. “Maybe.”
Olem stood and held out a pewter plate. On it was a steaming cut of elk.
“Burned on the edges and raw in the middle, but it’s delicious,” Olem said with a grin.
Tamas heard his stomach growl. There must have been two pounds of meat on that plate.
“Share it with Gavril,” Tamas said. “I’m not hungry.”
Olem cocked an eyebrow. “I can hear your stomach making bear calls from here, sir. You have to keep up your strength.”
“Really, I’m fine.”
Gavril grabbed the meat with his bare hands. “Suit yourself.” He tore it in half and plopped one half back on the plate. He began to cram the rest into his mouth. Around bites, he yelled out to another rider who’d just come into camp.
“Sir,” Olem said as Gavril strode off, “you need to eat.”
“Get the men on their feet,” Tamas said. A sudden urgency rose within him as a gust of wind nearly tore off his hat. “Have the advance column marching out of the camp in twenty minutes.” He stared south until Olem was gone.
Sixteen thousand Kez cavalry. His two brigades of infantry would be ridden down. They’d die hungry, exhausted, and in a foreign land while the Kez burned their homes.
He couldn’t let that happen.