Wrath of Empire

Chapter 34

The Mad Lancers left Bellport, heading west along the northern coast of the Hammer. They traveled slowly, sending out as many scouts as they dared and avoiding the larger towns and cities already flying the Dynize flag. They even stayed several miles inland to avoid being spotted by Dynize ships – of which, their scouts informed them, there were dozens plying the waters back and forth between Fatrasta and Dynize.

Styke kept to himself for several days, content to ride with the rear guard while recovering from the beating Valyaine gave him and teaching Celine how to handle her new horse. The creature turned out to be more stubborn than Styke had initially guessed, and would have found itself discarded with the rest of the extra horses had Celine not taken an equally stubborn liking to it.

Frequent reports came from Ibana with the vanguard. Styke read the reports and sent orders to the front. During the evenings he helped train the newest recruits – having picked up almost five hundred volunteers in Bellport – while Celine continued to learn Ka-poel’s language.

On the fourth day of riding, Styke heard the distant report of artillery and made his way up the winding line of cavalry, joining Ibana with the vanguard over a mile ahead. She sat on her horse on a cliff top, eyes focused on something in the distance. Jackal, bearing the Mad Lancer standard, sat with her.

To the northwest, Styke was able to see the source of the cannon fire that continued to echo across the water. There was a small fortress, whose name had long since escaped him, positioned at the end of a long breakwater. It overlooked the space between the Hammer and an unnamed island, and it was exchanging a violent torrent of fire with a sizable Dynize fleet positioned in a half-moon around the fortress.

“I’m guessing,” Ibana said without lowering her looking glass, “that you’ve been skulking with the rear guard the last few days because you failed to kill Valyaine?”

Styke glanced around. The only people within earshot were Jackal, Celine, and Ka-poel. Styke looked to Jackal, whose Palo freckles had darkened with all the time out in the sun. Jackal simply lifted his hands. This was not something he wanted to get involved with.

“I’ve been teaching Celine to ride her new horse.”

Ibana snapped her looking glass closed and turned toward Styke. “I heard you let Valyaine beat the shit out of you.”

“ ‘Let’ seems a strong word. He’s a champion boxer.”

“And you have the biggest knife on the continent,” Ibana retorted. “Why the pit did you square up fisticuffs against a champion boxer?”

“I wanted to see if I could kill him with my fists.”

“It didn’t work out. He betrayed you, and he’s still alive.”

“I can always go back and gut him later,” Styke said, the words coming out a little more petulant than he’d intended.

Ibana fixed Styke with a long stare and then turned to Celine. “What’s her name, sweetheart?” she asked gently, indicating Celine’s horse.

Celine beamed. “Margo. She already had the name and I liked it, so I decided to let her keep it.”

“That’s a good name,” Ibana replied. She nudged her own horse, quickly trotting around Margo before nodding. “Looks like a good horse.”

“Ben bought her for me.” There was an edge of challenge in Celine’s voice, as if daring Ibana to question the man who would acquire a horse for a little girl. Styke almost laughed out loud.

He butted in before Ibana could get annoyed. “I haven’t been hiding,” he said.

“Good,” Ibana said simply. She drew closer to Styke, letting her voice fall. She didn’t look happy with what she was about to say, but she continued on. “You know it just as well as I do – the Mad Lancers ride on their reputation. On your reputation. You start sparing people who have betrayed you and people will think you’ve gone soft. The prospect of your knife is the only thing that keeps some of these bastards in line.”

Styke sat back in his saddle, unsure how to respond. He remembered Agoston’s blood running down his arms, and then sparing Tenny Wiles. “They start to get uppity and I’ll set them straight.”

“It’s never come to that before. I don’t want it to come to that.”

Styke snorted. “Let me handle my vengeance the way I see fit.”

“I will. It’s just … a word of warning, that’s all.”

“Thank you,” Styke replied.

Ibana nodded and rode off a few dozen yards, pulling out her looking glass to watch the distant bombardment. Styke turned to Jackal. “How has the ride been?”

“Easy enough,” Jackal said. “Scouts are keeping us clear of Dynize forces. How is the rear guard?”

“Boring,” Styke replied. He nodded to the distant fortress. “Do the spirits tell you how much longer that fortress will last?”

Jackal’s eyes immediately went over Styke’s shoulder, and it took him a moment to realize Jackal was looking directly at Ka-poel. “Are you kidding? Only the bravest spirits will come within a mile of her. I can always tell when she’s getting near because they flee before she arrives.”

“You hear that, blood-lady?” Styke called. “The spirits are afraid of you.”

Ka-poel seemed entirely unimpressed.

“But it doesn’t take the spirits,” Jackal said, returning his gaze to the distant fort, “to see they’re almost done for. There’s six ships of the line out there and two brigades cutting off any support from the mainland. The fortress will fall within days.” He gave Styke a curious look. “Are we going to relieve them?”

Styke glanced at Ka-poel. “Is the godstone in that fort?”

She shook her head.

“No,” he told Jackal. “I’m not suicidal enough to charge two brigades in clear view of a supporting enemy fleet.” Besides, he added to himself, they’d already resupplied at Bellport. “We’ll have to swing around those two brigades. With luck, they’ll be so focused on the fort that they don’t even notice us.”

Styke heard a sudden shout from down the road. He turned, curious, and was soon joined by Ibana. “What was that?” she asked.

“I’m not sure.” Styke lifted Amrec’s reins, spotting a dust cloud rising from a nearby hill, and a familiar old face suddenly burst into view. Sunintiel clung to her horse’s neck, both she and her animal streaming tears from the hard ride, her wrinkled skin covered in a sheen of sweat. She stood in the stirrups, not bothering to slow.

“We’ve been ambushed!” she shouted. “Dynize cavalry from the rear!”

Styke whipped Amrec into a gallop. “Stay with Celine,” he ordered Sunin. He pointed a finger behind him as he charged past. “And keep Ka-poel out of the fight!”

He and Ibana raced along the road, past the milling of confused cavalrymen. Styke came around the hill into the valley that contained the bulk of his forces, taking in the situation at a glance. Dynize dragoons had swept in from the southern end of the valley, crossing a small creek and opening fire with carbines on the Mad Lancers, who were still strung out along the road.

There were at least three thousand dragoons, with more coming over the hill, and they raked the lancers’ flank with perfect precision, hitting them with a torrent of carbine fire in companies of a hundred before retreating out of range to reload. The lancers were in chaos – those that tried to fire back couldn’t pack a big enough punch, and the few that charged were deftly avoided and gunned down.

Another wave of dragoons suddenly appeared at the other end of the valley, blocking a retreat along the road and engaging the rear guard with a withering fusillade.

Styke pressed Amrec harder, weaving among his confused troops. “Ibana!” he shouted. “Take the vanguard and swing around to their flank. They’re not wearing breastplates. Hit the bastards with our lances!”

He continued on without waiting for an answer, galloping toward the rear guard and the fresh recruits being cut to ribbons. He passed Major Gustar, who’d just barely organized the Riflejack cavalry core enough to return fire. “Press them hard,” Styke shouted, slowing just enough to get his orders out. “That hill they came down was easier for them to descend than it will be to go back up. Send your cuirassiers straight at their center!”

Styke was quickly past. He urged Amrec harder, watching as more of his cavalry fell to the enemy carbine volleys. The Dynize became bolder, pressing in on the rear guard, not bothering to retreat before they reloaded their weapons. Styke finally reached the rear guard, who were desperately trying to reload their own carbines.

“Blast the carbines!” Styke roared as he whipped past them. “Lances down! Charge!” He snatched up his lance, lowering the steel tip as he broke through the confused line of his own men and up the open road toward the Dynize.

Dragoons had come within ten yards and they seemed shocked to see him charging toward them wearing one of their own breastplates. A bullet whizzed past Styke’s ear and he felt another slam into the breastplate, jerking him back in the saddle. He kept his hold on the reins and on his lance, leaning forward.

The closest Dynize fumbled with his carbine, dropped it, then tried to urge his horse to run in the opposite direction. Styke’s lance clipped him in the side, tearing out four inches of flesh and several feet of intestine and burying it into the next dragoon. Letting go of his weighty lance, Styke drew his cavalry sword and urged Amrec forward, laying about him with his weapon.

Gore whipped from the rise and fall of his sword. Blood spattered his lips, but Styke didn’t bother to check if it was his own or the enemy’s. Their sudden onslaught turned to confusion at his charge, and still he pushed deeper, using Amrec’s mighty chest to shove past the smaller Dynize horses.

Only upon turning to block the sword thrust of an enemy did Styke see that the new recruits had not, actually, followed him into the fray. Some of them stared at him dumbly while others fumbled for their lances. It wasn’t until Jackal appeared, waving the skull-and-lance flag and charging forward, that they seemed to break out of their shock and attack.

A straight-bladed dragoon sword caught in the clasp of Styke’s breastplate. He sheared off the arm holding it and discarded the blade, but the clasp snapped at the next impact of an enemy bullet. With one quick movement, Styke bit down on Amrec’s reins and used his left hand to pry the other clasp off the broken breastplate. He swung it over his head and threw it at a charging dragoon, knocking the rider off his horse. Reins still between his teeth, he drew his boz knife and rammed it into the chest of a man whose mount had been pushed too close in the melee. He jerked it out and threw it overhand into the neck of a horse. The horse screamed, throwing its rider.

Styke finally fought his way to the top of the ridge, looking down at the road. It was covered with the bodies of men and horses – almost all of them belonging to the new recruits from Bellport, stragglers who’d fallen behind the rear guard. With a glance Styke could see how the dragoons had come out of the trees, catching them completely unawares and slaughtering them without a fight.

The glance also told him that he’d reached the very edge of this wave of dragoons – they had no more men attacking the rear guard. He whirled to rally the rear, to dispose of these dragoons and join Gustar and Ibana to fight their main force.

Something struck his shoulder just as he drew breath to bellow encouragement. He turned to see a dragoon charging him at full speed, smoking carbine being exchanged for a straight-edged sword. The rider didn’t have time to fully draw her sword before her horse struck Amrec in the shoulder, sending both Amrec and Styke tumbling.

Styke barely managed to throw himself clear. Amrec fell on his side, legs flailing, finally righting himself and charging off before Styke could call to him.

The Dynize dragoon allowed her own horse to regain its balance before turning on a dime and pointing her sword at Styke and digging in her heels. Styke searched for his sword only to see it caught in Amrec’s harness as the beast galloped away. He felt for his knife – remembered throwing it – and began to loudly swear at himself.

The dragoon leapt into a gallop, her sword held to her side as she swooped in toward Styke. He remained on her sword side for as long as he dared, then leapt in front of the charging horse and across to the opposite side. Before the dragoon could change her sword hand, Styke set the foot of his good leg and barreled, shoulder-first, into the soft side of the Dynize horse. Both horse and rider went flying.

The impact knocked the breath from Styke and nearly threw him on his ass. He barely stayed on his feet and ran toward the horse that, still flailing with pain, had his boz knife in its neck. He jerked the knife out, reversed his hold on it, and rammed the blade into the creature’s spine with one quick motion, putting it out of its misery.

A shout of challenge was the only warning he got. The persistent dragoon leapt toward him, sword thrusting, and Styke barely parried the thrust with the blade of his knife. He charged forward, closing the distance, ramming his left fist into the dragoon’s face.

She reeled back but did not fall, driving him off with blind swipes of her sword.

They both froze, staring at each other, giving Styke his first good look at his opponent. She was tall – not as tall as he or Ibana, but nearly so – and she had wide shoulders that reminded him of Valyaine. She was broad-faced with quick eyes and her red hair shorn to a finger’s length. Her teal uniform had orange epaulets, which, Styke assumed, meant she was an officer. Over his shoulder he could hear Jackal urging the rear guard to finish off their Dynize attackers.

The dragoon regarded him for another long moment, her eyes flicking to her fallen cavalry, before suddenly turning and sprinting toward the closest empty saddle. She pulled herself onto horseback with incredible dexterity and was galloping back toward the edge of the forest before Styke could take a dozen steps.

He turned at the sound of a trumpet, watching as the Dynize cavalry disengaged from the Mad Lancers and began to retreat. The lancers, for their part, were obviously badly mauled, and he was not surprised when Ibana did not give the order to follow.

He found the dragoon officer’s horse where he’d shoved it over. The poor creature thrashed in pain with one leg broken and probably several cracked ribs. Styke calmed it as best he could and covered its eyes with one arm before putting it out of its misery.

He found Amrec and went back up the road in search of Ibana.

“That was a timely charge,” he told Jackal as he passed.

Jackal waved back at him. “The spirits wouldn’t forgive me if I allowed you to die charging an enemy army alone.”

Styke found Ibana down in the valley taking stock of their – and the enemy’s – losses. She was on foot, kneeling over a half-dead Dynize dragoon, trying to get the man to talk through a mouthful of blood. She left him be, snorting in disgust, then turned to face Styke.

“Find out where these bastards came from?” Styke asked.

Ibana shook her head. “He’s not talking, nor is anyone still alive. We’ll take a few captives and work on them later. Maybe give them to Ka-poel and see what she can learn.”

“Maybe,” Styke said. He wasn’t thrilled with the idea of handing anyone over to Ka-poel. He wasn’t entirely sure what she could do or how she could do it, but it sounded … protracted. He did not like torture. “That retreat was organized. They weren’t willing to commit everything to the fight, it seems.”

Ibana kicked at a body at her feet. “Damn it. We’ve sent scouts in every direction. How the pit did they sneak up on us like that?”

“Send a few men to follow them,” Styke said. “Not too closely, but …” He glanced back toward the road, then in the direction they had retreated. “They came from the south, but they retreated to the west. Send a few men the way they came, too.”

“Right.” Ibana stalked off, barking orders, while Styke stared down at the poor bastard she’d been interrogating. One of his arms was hanging by skin and he had three stab wounds through his chest. He’d be dead soon enough.

He glanced up to the ridge, where well over a hundred of the new recruits lay dead or dying. He wondered about that Dynize officer. This ambush had felt strange. It had felt … personal. Were those blasted dragonmen behind it? Or was this something else?