He glanced uphill, but saw no one, then turned to Zhelan. “Can we get past the stones quickly and re-form?”
“Yes, sir.” Zhelan turned in the saddle. “First company! Forward and re-form!”
Quaeryt kept the mare close to the major as he threaded his way through the stones, but first company was barely in position above the stones when at least one company of Bovarians charged over the crest of the hill.
“Imagers! On me! Smoke and pepper across the front ranks! Now!” Quaeryt glanced to Zhelan. “First company forward!” Then he quickly guided the mare to the river side of the road, filled with brushy ground that sloped some two hundred yards down to the river.
“First company!” ordered Zhelan. “Charge! Second company! Forward past the rocks and re-form!”
Quaeryt watched as the mist of pepper and smoke spread across the first ranks of the Bovarian riders, who had angled to the south side of the road to avoid the rocks hurled from the broken wagons. The Bovarians did not move out of formation except slightly, but Quaeryt could see that many were rubbing their eyes and a number were sneezing.
He imaged more pepper and smoke, this time farther back in the ranks, then glanced up the slope on the river side of the road, feeling that more Bovarians were headed in their direction.
In moments, another company came charging over the low crest.
“Imagers! Smoke and pepper!”
Because the shoulder and area clear of brush on the river side of the road were narrower, the Bovarians were bunched much closer together.
Quaeryt waited until the second company was less than fifty yards away, then concentrated on creating an angled stone wall no more than five yards wide and a yard and a half high, just in front of the Bovarians.
The entire front line of riders went down, and those following plowed into the mass of men and mounts.
“Third company! On the river side!” ordered Quaeryt. “Imagers, clear the way! On me!”
Even before third company finished surging past the imagers and toward the attackers, the Bovarians on the north side of the road-those who could-were withdrawing. In moments, so were the trailing Bovarians on the south side. The others were quickly surrounded by Major Zhael’s Khellans.
Quaeryt rode forward and eased his mount beside Zhael.
The major glanced at him. “They are like all Bovarians. When matters become difficult, they vanish.”
“The problem is that when they vanish like that, they survive to try again,” replied Quaeryt dryly.
“Some of these did not.”
“No, but have the captives that are healthy start clearing those boulders off the road. If any try to run away, ride them down.”
“We can do that, sir.”
“The rocks first.” Quaeryt nodded and rode back to rejoin the imagers.
“Where’d that wall come from?” demanded Threkhyl, even before Quaeryt had finished reining up.
Shaelyt glanced at Quaeryt, then at Voltyr. “Voltyr and I did it!”
“Excellent work!” added Quaeryt, although his words applied to the quick thought from the young undercaptain.
“We do what we can, Subcommander, sir,” replied Shaelyt with a quick smile that vanished immediately.
“I could do that,” announced Threkhyl.
“I’m sure you could,” replied Quaeryt. “I saw what you did in Ferravyl after the battle, but it’s also knowing when to do it.”
“If you’d told me, I could have done it,” Threkhyl reiterated.
Quaeryt held in a sigh and nodded. “I’ll remember that.” He was just glad Threkhyl hadn’t seen Voltyr roll his eyes.
“Is there anything else you need from us now, sir?” asked Voltyr.
“See if you and the others can image those wagons back together. They might come in useful.”
“Yes, sir.”
As the undercaptains rode toward the ruined wagons, Quaeryt turned to Zhelan, who had returned from talking to Undercaptain Ghaelyn. “Send fourth company to hold the crest of the road up there while we clean up the mess here.”
“Yes, sir.”
A quint or so later Voltyr rode back to Quaeryt. “We got one wagon back together. The other one was … well … we made some mistakes, sir, but the one is sturdy.”
“Good.”
Quaeryt rode over to the image-repaired wagon, studying it carefully. From what he could tell, it looked sturdy. They’d had to use the wheels from the other wagon, possibly because none of them knew enough about wheelwrighting, but the bed and seats looked strong and smoothly fit together. “You all did a good job. Thank you.”
He could see Skarpa riding up the road. He turned the mare. “I need to talk to the commander.”
Shortly, Skarpa reined in beside Quaeryt, looked over the hillside, then asked, “How many attacked here?”
“Two companies, maybe three. They hit and when we surprised them, they immediately withdrew.”
“They attacked, and you surprised them?”
“The imagers hit them with smoke and pepper and took apart the wagons they sent down the road…” Quaeryt summarized as quickly as he could, finishing up with the rebuilt wagon.
“I’m sure the quartermasters can use another wagon, especially since we got shorted leaving Ferravyl.”
“What about the supply wagons and Fifth Regiment?” asked Quaeryt.
“The same sort of thing as here. The regiments had more casualties than you did, but so did the Bovarians.” The commander glanced up the road to the top, where fourth company held the crest. “Have you seen any of the scouts?”
Quaeryt had no doubts that the scouts were captured, or dead, most likely the latter. “No. None of them returned. They were likely ambushed somewhere up ahead.”
“Now we’ll have to send out scouts in full squads,” said Skarpa sourly. “Before long, they’ll have to go in companies.”
Quaeryt understood. That meant losing more men. “Won’t they also lose more troopers?”
“They might.”
Given Skarpa’s tone of voice, Quaeryt didn’t press.
More than a glass passed before the road was clear, and the casualties taken care of. Fifth Battalion’s first and second company had suffered no deaths and only a handful of wounded, possibly because of the pepper and smoke, but the Bovarians had lost twenty men, and thirty six had been captured, half of them wounded, most severely.
A mille farther to the west, they found the bodies of five Telaryn scouts, thrown in a heap beside the road. Three had been hacked down and died fighting, it appeared. Two others had been wounded, but then had had their throats cut.
Skarpa looked from the dead scouts to Quaeryt. “Never thought much of Kharst before. Think even less of him now.”
Quaeryt agreed. There was no reason the Bovarians just couldn’t have left the wounded men behind … without cutting their throats. For a time, after Skarpa made quick arrangements for the dead scouts, they rode without speaking.
A glass later, as they passed a marsh that looked to be drying out, Skarpa turned in the saddle and cleared his throat. “There’s another matter we need to discuss.”
“Yes?” replied Quaeryt warily.
“We’ve had quite a few weeks without proper services, Subcommander.” Skarpa snorted. “Not even improper services. After everything today … well, tomorrow is Solayi…”
“I’d be happy to conduct services.” Quaeryt wasn’t about to argue, even though he had no idea what he might offer as a homily. Still … he had a day to think about it.
As the afternoon neared fourth glass, Quaeryt saw plumes of smoke ahead, at least two milles ahead, and possibly three. “I wonder if the Bovarians are burning more crops.”
“Something’s burning,” replied Skarpa. “We’ll know what when the scouts return.”
Quaeryt nodded. So far, the tracks of the attackers had followed the river road westward. From all indications Skarpa and his forces were following close to a battalion of Bovarians toward Villerive. “You think they’ll rejoin a larger force before we get to Ralaes?”
The commander shrugged. “They’ve got to have more troopers ahead. The ones that tried to surprise us are setting a good pace. That means they don’t have to delay us.”