“Yes, sir.”
While he was waiting for Skarpa to receive the report, Quaeryt studied the road ahead, as well as the small shuttered cots and dwellings they passed, as well as the absence of livestock, noting what the scouts had kept reporting-that there were no signs of any Bovarian forces.
In less than half a quint, Skarpa was riding up the shoulder of the road. By then, Quaeryt had sent a ranker to notify Major Zhael that third company might be required to accompany him and several undercaptains on a reconnaissance mission.
“You have a company ready to ride out and see?” Skarpa was wasting no time.
“Third company, with Desyrk and Lhandor.”
Skarpa nodded. “Make it quick. If there are supplies, let me know as soon as you can. If not, just leave the place … unless you think there are weapons or other useful items.”
“I’d be surprised if there were either.”
“So would I,” replied Skarpa. “Do what you can. I’ll call a halt by the gates.”
Quaeryt and third company moved out from the vanguard, and little more than a quint later, they reined up in front of the gates on the north side of the road. Quaeryt could scarcely miss the hold house, situated as it was on a rise overlooking the river, and so large that even from the chained gates, the structure still loomed impressively above the extensive formal gardens and forest park that surrounded it.
Yet, once they opened the gates and went through the buildings, that inspection revealed that the entire hold house and outbuildings had been recently and completely emptied.
But who could have done that so quickly? Kharst? The holding was certainly large enough and well appointed enough to be his. Still, there was little point in spending time there, not when there were neither supplies nor weapons, and Quaeryt had the gates rechained.
For the rest of Mardi and for the first glasses on Meredi, Skarpa and his forces saw only traces of the withdrawing Bovarians, or perhaps they were tracks of retainers hurrying Kharst’s goods from the holding back to Variana, mused Quaeryt-if the hold had been Kharst’s at all.
A quint or two after ninth glass on Meredi, the scouts came riding back with the report that the span over the fair-sized river three milles ahead had been destroyed, most likely with explosives. Once more, Fifth Battalion was in the van, as it had been for most of the ride west from Nordeau.
Skarpa didn’t have to glance at his map, but responded immediately. “That has to be the River Sommeil.”
“Whatever it is, Commander,” replied the squad leader of the scouts, “it looks to be too wide and too deep to ford.”
Of course it is. They wouldn’t destroy it if it weren’t. Quaeryt merely smiled.
Skarpa turned in the saddle and looked at Quaeryt without saying a word.
“We’ll see what we can do. I’ll take first company and the undercaptains.”
“Take the entire battalion, Subcommander.”
“Yes, sir.”
Shortly, Fifth Battalion moved ahead of the main column at a moderately quick trot. After riding about two milles Quaeryt glanced to the north and noted that the paving stones of the river road were only perhaps ten or fifteen yards higher than the River Aluse, if that. Ahead was a slight rise, and when Quaeryt came to the crest and looked ahead, he could see that the Bovarians had indeed chosen well.
The River Sommeil meandered through a swampy flood plain a good three milles wide, and the only raised ground was a tongue of land that led to the bridge. The structure itself had been a solid-looking stone span connecting two tongues of more solid land, although for a good hundred yards on each side of the bridge the road had been constructed on a causeway that was more like a levee. What the scouts had not mentioned was that, some hundred yards short of the east end of the bridge was a large gap in the road … and the causeway that had supported it.
While the terrain suggested it was unlikely that Fifth Battalion would face Bovarian forces, at least on the east side of the bridge, the gap in the road and the missing spans of the bridge indicated more work for the imagers. Since the bridge itself blocked a clear view of the road on the far side, there might also be other gaps.
Quaeryt kept studying the causeway and the terrain on the far side of the bridge, but could see no sign of Bovarians. If they waited, they were concealed in the trees that flanked the open ground on each side of the road.
Once he had reached the missing section of the causeway, he reined up and studied the damage in the road. While the gap wasn’t that wide, no more than five or six yards, the material that comprised the levee and roadbed had been blasted away to the point that whatever base remained was below the water level of the swamp surrounding the levee. He turned the mare sideways. “Undercaptain Horan, forward!”
“Yes, sir.”
“You’re to start imaging rock into that gap. Not dirt because the water will turn it to mud.”
“Any kind of rock, sir?”
“Any kind that’s solid. Not sandstone or pumice. Do it in smaller amounts at a time, rather than trying it all at once.”
“Yes, sir.”
Quaeryt watched as the slightly grizzled imager concentrated. The water in the gap swelled as though a current pushed it upward, but Quaeryt did not see anything but more muddy water. A second swell of water followed, and when the current subsided, he could see grayish stones being washed by the swamp water. He glanced to Horan, whose forehead was glistening with sweat. “Wait a moment. Take a swallow of ale or whatever’s in your bottle.”
Horan needed little urging to reach for the water bottle.
Quaeryt once more surveyed the lands beyond the swamp to the west, thickly forested with trees and undergrowth that could hide regiments. He had his doubts that there were regiments concealed, but the flatness of the causeway on the far side concerned him, since it was a perfect situation to use musketeers. The road would only allow three riders abreast at any speed, and it would take time to cover the mille or so beyond the bridge.
But then, they wouldn’t be all that accurate at that distance, and they’d wait until we were closer to the woods. That was another worry.
He waited for a time, then looked to Horan. “Ready for another imaging?”
“Yes, sir.”
In between periods of imaging and resting, it took Horan more than four quints to replace and raise the causeway to within two handspans of the stone paving on each side.
“That’s enough, Undercaptain,” said Quaeryt.
“I can do more, sir.”
“You’re getting pale. You need to drink some more and rest. Otherwise you’ll collapse, and we may well need you again if the Bovarians have done the same thing on the far side.”
“Oh … yes, sir.”
Quaeryt got the impression that Horan had not thought about that.
“Undercaptain Smaethyl, forward!” Quaeryt waited until the former hunter, not quite so angular as he had been when he’d first joined the battalion, rode up and joined him. “I’d like a layer of gravel, small pebbles, to cover the stones smoothly.”
Smaethyl managed that quickly, and without sweating.
Quaeryt then had Zhelan summon a squad of troopers to walk back and forth on the gravel, even jumping on it, until the gravel and pebbles would no longer sift downward. Then Smaethyl imaged finer gravel, followed by paving stones.
Finally, he rode across the stones of the repaired road and causeway, but sensed no give in the road. You can only hope that it holds. Still the stones Horan had imaged looked solid, and while they might settle some, Quaeryt doubted that they would totally give way, at least not in the next few days.
“Fifth Battalion! Forward!” As he urged the mare forward, he glanced back. The van of Third Regiment had reached the crest of the rise that marked the edge of the swampy valley holding the River Sommeil and the bridge. They’ll likely catch us before we finish image-repairing things, especially if there’s another hole blown in the causeway on the other side. There was no help for that. Imaging took time, just not as much time as having rankers and engineers repair the gaps.