“Excellent,” Niwa said approvingly. “But the movements must be convincing, and the troops and guns we leave must be well concealed.”
“Of course,” Halik agreed, “as well as the warriors we return there!”
“How do you mean?”
“As we both agree, they cannot see what we do at night. We’ll move nearly everything out of the highlands! Prod them into attacking just as Uul will chase wounded prey! Under the cover of darkness, we put it all back!”
“Chancy,” Niwa said, “all will depend on concealment and exaggeration-two things they will not expect of Grik, based on those they’ve met before.”
“Indeed,” Halik said with a self-satisfied gurgle. “We must see to it ourselves. The warriors we leave, those trained on the cannons, will have to hide-not an easy thing to achieve in itself-and…” He paused. “When we shift the warriors back to the highlands in darkness, we will fill the lines south of the city with the city’s inhabitants themselves. Use the noncombatants.”
“What will N’galsh say?” Niwa asked.
“He will wail as if being flayed alive. All his followers, merchants, artisans-his preparers of food!-all the privileged Hij in the city, along with their own little armies of Uul forced into the company of ungroomed warriors…!” Halik could barely contain his glee. “Perhaps we’ll even arm them!”
Niwa chuckled himself. “The idea of N’galsh wielding a sword is amusing… but can he if he must="3
“Of course not, but if we fool the spies from the air, we will know it soon enough. The enemy will pause before the ‘mighty force’ we assemble before it, long enough to strengthen itself, while his lighter center force that slogs slowly through the mountains to the east will charge headlong into the trap! Once we destroy it, we’ll attack the western force from the side, the ‘flank,’ as you say!”
“It could work,” Niwa allowed, studying the map. “If we do it, it must work, because nothing remains if it fails.”
“Yes,” Halik agreed, sobering. “Either we achieve a great victory-or depart as originally planned. By then that might be… difficult!”
CHAPTER 18
New Ireland
T he once almost-pacifistic Major Chack-Sab-At was a veteran of many battles now, but the wild melee that erupted in the darkened streets of New Dublin was something new in his experience. It was somewhat like the climax of the battle at the Dueling Grounds on New Scotland, except here it was on a completely different scale, sprawling through the congested streets of a large, unfamiliar city. He couldn’t even tell which direction was which, because the smoke from guns and burning buildings hid the sky and blotted out the stars. Few of “his” Imperial troops had ever been to New Ireland before, and even fewer had been in this Company city. Most were as lost as he was in the confusion of this bizarre battle.
Blair’s attack down the slope and across the field toward the city had succeeded far better than expected. The enemy positions had been devastated by the aerial bombing and mortar attack, and the remaining Doms were completely surprised when assailed through the smoky darkness by a force they’d been sure was withdrawing. They broke. Blair’s regiments charged onward, yelling like fiends, flush with success-and lost all cohesion. The Imperial Marines weren’t real professionals after all, Chack had reflected sadly, and he tried to round up as many clumps as he could when his own division went in, but when they continued advancing-while trying to maintain some contact with Blair-everything fell apart. By the sound, the seaborne assault had commenced with a will, likely catching the Doms attempting to respond to Chack and Blair’s attack, as hoped, but now there was fighting everywhere, and Chack had personal control of barely a company of mixed “American” and Imperial Marines.
“The harbor’s that way,” gasped Lieutenant Blas-Ma-Ar, pointing vaguely over the top of a stone barrier that she, Chack, and the rest of his remaining command had been forced to shelter behind. The barrier formed a rectangle around the Company/Government headquarters building, and there were a lot more rebels or Doms within than Chack had Marines outside. “I can hear the monstrous, great guns still firing from one of the forts,” Blas added.
“I’m glad someone can still hear something,” Chack growled irritably. “This war gets noisier all the time.”
“You like the exploding shells,” Blas accused.
“They don’t explode repeatedly next to my ears,” he said. “And if our enemies ever begin using them, I’ll probably like them less.”
“General Aalden was right about the muskets, though,” Blas insisted. “You can’t poke a bow over a rock wall and loose an arrow without showing much of yourself!”
“A point.” He looked around. Firing had resumed in the direction they’d come from, echoing dully down the narrow, debris-strewn streets, and he had no idea who was shooting at whom, or in which direction. It would probably not be a good idea to go back that way. “If they made their buildings up off the ground in a proper fashion, we could see more,” he grumped.
“We can’t stay here, Major. We must get back into the fight.” Blas looked around. “We need a mortar-gre-naades. Something to raise the enemy fire so we can move.” An errant roundshot, a big one, probably from Salaama-Na herself, crashed into the building before them and showered rocky fragments into the street. The strange but geometrically pleasing city was being systematically destroyed. Smoky dust filled the air.
“Major!” cried an Imperial Marine nearby. “Look there!” A door had opened across the street, and an arm was waving them toward it.
“A local?” Blas asked.
“Must be. It may be a trap, though,” someone said.
“Not all here are rebels, surely,” Chack speculated. He looked at the Marine. “Try to make it across. We’ll fire a volley as you move, to cover your sprint!”
At Chack’s signal, the men and ’Cats behind the barrier fired their muskets at the Company headquarters, and the red-coated Marine scrambled through the rubble and disappeared safely through the door. There was little return fire from the Doms. Several minutes later, a red-sleeved arm motioned from the door in the gloom, and Chack ordered the covering fire resumed. The Marine almost made it back before he tripped and fell, but he managed to scrabble back to safety with musket balls “vrooping” by above his head, or sending shattered rock over the top of the wall.
“Major,” he wheezed, crawling up beside Chack, “it’s a New Dubliner, all right. A cobbler.” The man grinned. “He don’t know what you Lee-mooans are, and he was a touch nervous, but he seen our red coats. He’s a loyal man. Says his sons are watchin’ the fight from the rooftop. Lots of locals are, all over the city, an’ many’re with us! The Doms’ve treated folk rough.” He shook his head. “Anyway, a lot have risen up-that’s one reason we’re not takin’ much fire from above. There ain’t many of ’em armed, but those that are are tryin’ to stay out of the way, on the roofs! They ain’t fightin’ much,” he admitted, “just enough to keep the Doms down off their places, see, and not enough to provoke ’em as much against them as they are against us!”
“That’s a larger service than they credit,” Chack mused. “But are they not vulnerable to the flying creatures the Doms control?”
“They might be, but for the smoke. Seems the bloody damn things don’t like it. Can’t see through it, or breathe it, maybe. They don’t know why. Anyway, all them devils are gone, or stayin’ above the fight, says he.”
“Does he know where our closest friends are?”
“Aye. If you’ll look up, he has three stories. A fair view. There’s maybe another company just two streets yonder!” The Marine pointed beyond the cobbler’s establishment.
“Okay,” Chack said, deciding. “Will you take me to meet your new friend?”
The Marine looked back across the avenue he’d just crossed twice. “Aye, sir.”
“Good. Blas? Same procedure as before.”