“If we can?” asked Meinyt. “They’ve only got a regiment.”
“They’re using stone walls,” said Quaeryt. “Do you think they might have imagers and Antiagon Fire? Was that why you asked about catapults?”
“With Antiagons, that’s possible.” He frowned. “They probably won’t have imagers, not in Bovarian territory. Antiagon Fire-that’s more likely. If they do, we’ll need your imagers.”
Quaeryt frowned. “I’ll have to think about what they can do.” He glanced to the hazy but clear sky. No chance of rain. Not soon, anyway.
“One of them can deflect arrows. Why not a fireball thrown from a catapult?”
“Arrows don’t weigh nearly as much.”
“And a bridge doesn’t weigh anything?” asked Skarpa.
“They weren’t trying to stop it or move it,” Quaeryt pointed out. “They’ve never dealt with Antiagon Fire. Neither have I.” You’ve only watched it being fired from a cannon in a strange shell … and only once at that.
“None of us have,” Skarpa said, “but we’re likely to find out sooner or later.”
“I need to talk to the imagers.” Quaeryt guided the mare back along the narrow shoulder of the road until he reached Fifth Battalion. As he eased in beside Major Zhelan, he called out, “Undercaptain Voltyr, forward.”
Voltyr rode forward.
“Do you know anything about Antiagon Fire?”
“Sir?”
“We’re likely about to face an Antiagon regiment that’s positioned behind stone walls. Would you like to wager that they don’t have at least some weapons that employ Antiagon Fire?”
“No, sir. But I don’t know much about it.”
“It has to be created by imagers, it’s said.”
“Yes, sir, but I don’t know how. No imager I know ever knew how.”
“What do you know about it?”
“It’s supposed to be a sticky liquid that’s dark, like bitumen, and it has resins mixed in it, and some say brimstone, and then there’s a yellow-white powder that’s mixed with that, but it has to be coated with hot wax or it will burn, even on top of water.”
“It burns on top of water?” asked Zhelan.
“I’ve read about that,” replied Quaeryt. “Do you know why it takes an imager to make it?”
Voltyr shrugged. “No, sir, except I heard that only an imager could create the powder.”
Quaeryt looked to Zhelan. “Have you ever encountered it?”
“No, sir. Aren’t the Antiagons the only ones who have it?”
“At least one High Holder from Nacliano has it,” replied Quaeryt. “His ships have special cannon and shells they use against pirates.”
“I wouldn’t know, sir.”
“Voltyr … ask the others if they know anything about Antiagon Fire, then ride back and ask the Khellan majors.”
“Yes, sir.”
In little less than a quint Voltyr returned with the information that none of the imagers or Khellan officers knew more than he and Quaeryt had already discussed.
As he rode on, Quaeryt continued to think. Given the way Captain Shuld had handled the shells on the Diamond Naclia, it had been clear they could easily explode. That meant a regiment likely wouldn’t carry large amounts … But what if they kept them in small containers, like miniature cannonballs that would fit in small catapults? He tried to recall what had happened to the pirate ship. The flames hadn’t appeared until after the shell struck … Yet it couldn’t have been the impact that created them-or they didn’t need much of an impact because there were too many reports of Antiagon Fire being used against troops in situations where the impact of a shell or globe grenade could not have been that forceful.
When, a glass later, just after midday, Skarpa called a halt more than a mille from the stone emplacements, Quaeryt still had no answers. For all his questions, he had come up with only one possible way of dealing with the Antiagon Fire. And it was a way he really didn’t want to try, especially after he rode forward to join Skarpa and Meinyt and surveyed what lay before them.
The approach to Caernyn was suited far more to defense than attack. The river road followed a tongue of land, likely man-made, through a marshy lowland before leaving the swamp and rising along the right side of a slope that extended a half mille or so before flattening out. The marsh continued around the base of the slope as far as the eye could see, turning into a lake at some point. The far left end of the slope was heavily wooded, and the woods angled westward away from the marsh. The river road rose from the swampy lowland into a gradual slope that bordered a bluff overlooking the River Aluse. Near the top of the slope a waist-high brick wall some five yards from the right shoulder of the road marked the edge of a steep drop-off down to the River Aluse. Between the road and the woods was an expanse of meadow that held grass and a few low scrub bushes. At the top of the slope, between the road and the woods, was a pair of long walls rising two yards above the matted grass that grew right up to the ancient stones.
At the river end of the wall flew a banner bearing the emblem of a chateau in the center of a yellow sunburst against a vivid blue background. At the southwestern end of the walls was a second banner, bearing a jagged lightning bolt of green and yellow crossed with a stylized halberd, all against a bright maroon background.
So … Kharst … or those who ruled before him … believes he is the sun whose light illuminates Bovaria? Do all rulers believe they are at the center of everything? Quaeryt was afraid he knew the answer to his question.
“Subcommanders, do you have any suggestions as to how we might best attack?” Skarpa raised his eyebrows.
“Go around them if we can, and attack from the rear,” suggested Meinyt.
“It’s twenty-five milles around the southern end of that swamp and lake,” replied Skarpa. “Might be farther than that, and it looks like the approach from the west isn’t much better.”
“Why’d they build a town here, then?” asked Meinyt.
“Just for that reason,” said Quaeryt. “In the early years it was probably hard for river reavers to get to flatboats who tied up here.”
Skarpa nodded. “It’s a good spot to stop on the river, and the higher ground along the river goes for maybe eight milles. The map shows the marsh and the lake as just one long lake. Could be the place was an island in the river a long time back. Anyway, it’s here, and we can’t just go around it and leave an Antiagon regiment sitting here.”
“They were sent here to stop us,” suggested Quaeryt. “They’ll have Antiagon Fire and who knows what else. They might even know that you’ve got imagers.”
“That thought had occurred to me,” said Skarpa. “Do you have something in mind?”
“Just that I’d rather not lose a lot of troopers this far from Variana.” Quaeryt paused. “Is there any way to get to those woods over there?”
Skarpa smiled crookedly. “The marsh is filled with swamp lizards, some of them three, four yards in length, with teeth as long as a man’s hand. If you stay away from the water, you’ll be exposed, but it’s a bit far for their archers.”
“Can you send scouts to see what the woods are like?”
“I already have, but none of them have come back … and they should have by now. That means I’ll need to send a squad, because we don’t want to mount an attack and discover another regiment on our flank.”
Left unsaid was the fact that the casualties would likely be high for a recon squad.
A quint later, Quaeryt watched as a squad from Third Battalion rode across the lower part of the grassy slope, some fifteen or twenty yards above the reeds that marked the edge of the marsh. A few shafts flew from the stone ramparts, but fell short. Then, when the scouting squad was less than a hundred yards from the woods, scores of shafts flew out, and four riders slumped in their saddles immediately, and several others were hit. The squad turned and withdrew, not quite at a gallop, and not quickly enough to avoid having three other troopers take shafts.