The Chaos Balance

LXXI

“They skulk around and watch,” snapped Miatorphi. “If we ride out with less than twoscore lancers, they wait, and then they attack, and run. We’ve lost half our scouts, ten at a crack, twice, and more than a few in some skirmishes, and that one time where we lost nearly a half company.” He scowled. “Three men left.”

“They only attack when they have an advantage in numbers,” added Azarphi, his narrow face shimmering in sweat. “If we ride out with more, nothing happens.”

“One on one, they’re no match for a Mirror Lancer,” said Miatorphi.

Majer Piataphi frowned. “Some must be. One of their war leaders sliced right through a blade and a shield. Funssa brought back the shield. Another shattered a lance and a sabre with a short blade.”

“So…we move in larger groups.”

“That’s not the point,” countered Piataphi. “That means they’re using blades with sharp edges, and not just those metal bars they call swords.”

The two captains waited.

After a moment, the majer continued. “The sooner we get rid of them the better. Have you located their camp?”

“It’s here, we think.” Azarphi pointed to the map. “One of the smaller hamlets where we removed all the contraries in the first sweep.”

“Take the entire Fourth and Sixth Lancers.” Majer Piataphi frowned. “And the Eighth. Attack their base. Their ‘honor’ will make them defend it if we attack-and that will be the end of them.”

“What if they show some common sense and retreat?” asked Miatorphi.

“We lose nothing. Destroy the camp. Raze it to the ground. Then they will have a less suitable base. We will keep doing that until they have no place suitable.” The majer smiled grimly. “And we only move in forces of two companies or more. That should put an end to these efforts to whittle away our men.”