Cascet of souls

CHAPTER 5. Whispers in the Dark

KLIA and her force took the Plenimarans by surprise just before sunrise in a carefully coordinated attack, striking at one corner of the encampment. Beka and her troop successfully overwhelmed the pickets before they could raise the alarm, then Lieutenant Kallas and the Urghazi riders went after the enemy’s horses. Klia rode through the gap with Danos, Anri, and their troops, thundering into the camp as the first startled soldiers emerged from their tents.

Even taken by surprise, the Plenimarans were quick to mass against them, and it was a hard-fought battle that surged back and forth between the wood and the river. But as Klia had hoped, the Plenimaran line did begin to thin as they were pushed back.

Within a few hours the broad meadow was littered with the dead and dying, Skalan side by side with Plenimaran.

Bloody to the elbows and half blinded by sweat, Beka and her riders were fighting beside Klia when she heard Danos shout, “Commander, look there!”

Beka couldn’t see Danos, but she did spy a Plenimaran standard wavering above the melee no more than a hundred feet away. Summoning her flagging strength, throat already raw with shouting, Beka yelled, “Riders, to the commander! Blood and Steel!”

Fighting like the demons the Plenimarans had named them, they hacked their way through what felt like a wall of

flesh and armor, scattering the enemy commander’s bodyguard and clearing the way for Klia.

Beka was in the lead when they broke through at last and there was the Plenimaran officer, wearing the insignia of a cavalry commander.

Klia must have been as exhausted as any of them, but she gave no quarter as she shouted “For Skala and the queen!” and lunged past Beka to attack the commander with Beka and Captain Danos at her back. The others had their hands full holding off the Plenimaran soldiers.

Suddenly a cry went up from the enemy. Beka dispatched the man she’d been fighting with a blow to the neck, then looked over her shoulder quickly to see the Plenimaran commander on the ground, with Klia’s blade at his throat.

“Bretza!” Klia shouted, loud enough to carry around to the men still fighting. It was the Plenimaran command to yield.

The fallen officer glared up at her for a moment, then dropped his hands to his sides, relinquishing his sword. The day was theirs.

It took well over an hour for word to spread around the field that the Plenimarans had lost. Meanwhile, Klia had the captured officer and his bodyguard disarmed and escorted to the edge of the river, where Beka and several of her riders stood guard over them.

The sun had passed noon when the fighting finally stopped and the last of the enemy were disarmed. Klia had the Plenimaran provision wagons emptied, then gave them to the vanquished commander so he could gather and transport his dead. The wagons were nearly empty to begin with, just a few barrels of salt fish and hard biscuit; the Plenimarans were as badly supplied as they were, if not worse.

Leaving Klia with a sizable guard, Beka, Captain Anri, and Danos went to gather the remaining squadron.

“That was a bloody day.” Anri sighed, looking around. She was as filthy as the others, and there were dark circles under her darker eyes. She was a good friend, too. Years of bitter war had forged a solid bond between them.

“Do we see anything else?” asked Danos, yawning.

They continued on in silence, taking in the carnage. As the battle fever drained away, Beka felt exhaustion creeping into its place, but there was still much to do.

One by one, they found their lieutenants and listened to their reports. Urghazi Turma, which had already taken losses that summer, had lost eleven riders more and Braknil, who’d been lieutenant since Beka’s promotion, was mortally wounded. Sergeant Zir had only three riders left. Most of the others had wounds of some degree.

Klia allowed her exhausted forces to eat what they had, then gave orders to recover the Skalan dead for burning. What was left of Beka’s Red Horse Turma were ordered to guard the ford, sparing them the grim task of dispatching the enemy wounded and speeding on those of their own who were too badly hurt to survive. There was no time to grieve for the fallen.

The field was lit with funeral pyres and rank with the stench of death and burning flesh. The battle had cost Klia nearly half her remaining force, and the Plenimarans far more, but they had the crucial ford.

Klia’s tent stood just upstream near the burned farmhouse, so Beka set off on foot to make her own report. The waxing moon turned the rising mist to a gently roiling silver blanket spreading up from the river.

She used the funeral fires to guide her over the churned ground. The bodies had been cleared in this area, but the smell of death still hung on the damp night air. She was between fires when she heard low voices nearby.

“You see how the queen throws us into the dragon’s maw?” a man was saying. She couldn’t make out who the dark forms were, or recognize the voice. “Sending her own sister out with less than a full squadron!”

“Half sister,” said another.

“And for what?” a third voice scoffed. “Phoria could have rolled in here with her entire force and swept the whoreson bastards out like spiders out of a drain!”

It was the usual soldiers’ talk, and nothing Beka hadn’t thought herself. She was about to walk on when another said,

“What about the officers, Restus? Whose side would they take?”

“Can’t say about Anri, but from what I’ve heard that redheaded one is Klia’s friend,” another man replied. “I expect she’d take her side of things.”

Beka paused, frowning. Take Klia’s side in what?

“It’d be different if Commander Klia was general, wouldn’t it?” a young-sounding rider asked. “Then maybe she could talk sense to the queen.”

“Mind your tongue, Callin, and keep your damn voice down!”

“And about time, though,” one of the others muttered.

“To better days,” one of the others said, and she heard a murmur of agreement.

This was not the first time Beka had heard the sentiment. There’d been growing discontent since Phoria had refused the Overlord’s offer of a truce. Most of the officers, Klia included, shared Phoria’s belief that they would finally see victory before the summer was over; the state of the enemy’s captured provisions was a good sign. But it was hard to convince the ranks of that, even after a day like this.

Cursing the darkness, she listened for more, but the talk turned to the day’s fighting and no more was said of Klia or herself. After a few minutes they set off in her direction. Beka moved away, then trailed them to see who they were.

There were five of them, and as they stepped into the glow of a nearby watch fire, she recognized Sergeant Werneus of Captain Anri’s Fourth Troop; he’d saved her life that morning. She owed him something.

“Sergeant,” she called out.

Startled, the man turned and squinted through the darkness, then saluted. “Evenin’, Captain. Good to see you’re still in one piece and breathing.”

“And I have you to thank for it,” she replied, coming closer and lowering her voice. “Listen, I overheard you just now and I should report you to your captain.”

Werneus’s men exchanged nervous glances, but the sergeant saluted and went down on one knee. “We meant no harm.”

Beka held up her hand. “Given the good turn you did me, I’m not going to-this time. But don’t ever forget, we’re the Queen’s Horse Guard, the best and bravest regiment in the army. Leave the running of the war to the generals and the queen and keep your mouths shut. Is that clear?”

“As springwater, Captain.”

“Good. Blood and Steel, men.”

“Blood and Steel, Captain!” the others replied, fists to hearts.