Sovereign

The lancers were off the slope now and Terin eased his mount to the trot and then the gallop. He held his sabre out as Lynan had shown him, with the elbow bent slightly. His blood raced with the sound of his banner charging behind him. Some came abreast as the line started to break, their lances couched low.

A short fence, easily cleared, and then the first of the defenders, some on horseback. Terin swiped at a head, missed, the impetus of his charge carrying him on. Someone with a sword appeared from behind a tent. He swung underarm, catching the side of the man's head. Still at the gallop. An officer on a horse, armed with a straight sword. Terin brought his arm up again, shouted his war cry. His sabre punched through the officer's arm and through to his chest. The impact tore the sabre from Terin's grasp as his horse slammed into the officer's mount and went down. Terin tumbled on the ground, sprung to his feet. His horse tried to scramble up, but its back was broken and it collapsed onto the enemy officer, killing him outright. Terin waited until the horse squirmed aside and retrieved his sabre, finished off the wounded animal, grabbed the reins of the officer's stallion and remounted. His lancers were all around the camp, finishing off scattered groups of defenders. The enemy that could escape had done so; it was too late for the rest.

Dejanus woke with a thumping headache that seemed ready to punch out his eyeballs. He managed to swing his feet out of his cot then had to stop. Savis came into his tent, looked down at the general with his head in his hands.

'I heard you get up,' he said cautiously, wishing now he had stayed out.

'What is it?' he said testily.

'Some of your captains are begging to see you.'

'Whining, are they?'

'They have concerns—'

'Concerns!' Dejanus shouted, and immediately moaned as pain seemed to grip his whole skull and shake it.

Savis blanched and retreated a step. 'About supplies, sir. Some regiments have been without food for several days now. And Captain Harden from Kendra died in his sleep two nights ago and his regiment wants to know which officer is to replace him. And there are representatives from three nearby towns who are here to complain about the army's use of their wells, and to report the theft of several cattle and sheep and several bales of hay—'

'Enough, Savis, enough. Why is everything happening at once?'

Savis did not remind Dejanus that most of the problems had come up over the last several days. He did not relish a tongue-lashing this early in the morning. 'Will you be up and about soon, sir? I can tell those waiting to come back, if you like.'

'Yes,' Dejanus said. 'Later. Tell them to come back later. And get me some wine.'

Savis nodded and left. Dejanus slowly, cautiously, stood up. He had slept in his uniform and it stank of stale wine. He ran his fingers through his hair to straighten it, strapped on his sword, and stood there. What now? How could he organise this army to besiege Sparro when its captains could not even solve their own supply problems? Orkid had not given him an army, he decided, he had given him a rabble commanded by petty officers without initiative. He deserved better than this.

There was an argument outside. He heard Savis's voice try to rise above the hubbub. Another voice rose above Savis's. Then suddenly it all went quiet. After a moment Savis reappeared.

'You had better come out, sir.'

With a low growl Dejanus burst out of the tent. The sudden brightness blinded him and he put a hand over his eyes.

'What's going on?' Dejanus demanded. He looked down and saw a young man in the uniform of the Amanite light infantry. Several captains, pale-faced, hovered around him. 'Don't tell me, another bloody message from Captain Urling. Well?'

'We are attacked, sir!' the Amanite called out.

The words hit Dejanus like physical blows. He actually reeled back. 'No,' he said.

'Yesterday afternoon, General,' the Amanite continued. 'At least a thousand Chetts. We heard them coming and were able to prepare an ambush. We killed many hundreds and drove them off.'

Dejanus did not know what to say. The one thing he truly believed would never happen was that anyone would dare attack the Great Army. The messenger's last sentence sank in. 'You killed hundreds of them?'

The messenger nodded.

'And you drove them off?' There was a note of hysteria in Dejanus's voice.

The messenger nodded again. 'But my captain is afraid they will try again today.'

Dejanus swallowed. 'I see.'

'He suggests this is a wonderful opportunity.'

'He does?'

'He thinks the Chetts will come in even greater numbers, but still only expect to find four companies of light infantry. If you could reinforce us with the other companies of light infantry, and maybe some cavalry, the captain says your victory will be even sweeter.'

'My… victory?'

'As general of the Great Army, of course it would be your victory,' the messenger said, surprised Dejanus should doubt it. 'As last night's victory belongs to you.

After all, it was you who placed our infantry so far forward.'

'Yes, of course.'

'So you will send the reinforcements?' the messenger asked hopefully.

Dejanus did not answer right away. His mind had grasped the opportunity offered and run away with it. If I defeat the Chetts today, I can claim two victories. That will shut up Orkid and all my whining captains. Maybe even terrify that fat fool Tomar into surrendering Sparro to me.

'I will do more than send reinforcements,' Dejanus said. 'I will bring up the whole army, and I will lead it personally.'

The messenger seemed overjoyed. 'This is better than even my captain expected!'

'Go back to Captain Urling. Tell him we're on our way. Tell him we'll be there by midday.'

The messenger bowed and left. Dejanus turned to all the captains who had come that morning to complain. 'Well? What are you standing there for? Get your companies ready to march!'

The captains scattered. Dejanus turned to Savis. 'Get word to all the other units whose captains were not present. We march in one hour. We march to victory.'

'Here they come,' Korigan said, watching the dark line of the enemy snake its way north from its camp.

'And all in marching order,' Gudon said, shaking his head in amazement. 'This Dejanus is a fool.'

'He is a king slayer,' Lynan said flatly. 'Can you tell their order?'

Korigan nodded. 'Some medium cavalry in the van and light cavalry on either flank; not much of either, though. The rest of the Amanite light infantry comes next, then archers, then heavy infantry, the general and an escort of more cavalry, supply wagons, and the last of the heavy infantry bringing up the rear.'

'We need to lure the cavalry away from its infantry support, especially the archers,' Lynan said.

'What we need is bait,' Korigan said.

Akota said: 'I can take care of that.' She stood in her stirrups and pointed north. 'The road bends around the copse there. That's where I'll set it up.'

'Fine,' Lynan said. 'Take whatever you need to do the task, but make sure none of the enemy horse get away.'

Akota grinned. 'That will be a pleasure.'

Captain Mylor of Storia was enjoying the morning jaunt. The sun was pleasantly warm without being too hot, something she had found easy to take after the cooler climes of her native province in the south of the continent. There was a light breeze brushing across the landscape. She and her company were in the van, so avoiding all the dust kicked up by the footsloggers. And best of all they were on their way to severely punish the army of this renegade Rosetheme.

She found Kendrans a peculiar bunch at the best of times, but the Rosethemes seemed to concentrate all the strangeness in a few individuals, throwing up the best and the worst of their kind. The sooner this civil war was over the sooner she could resign her commission and get back to her father's vineyards.

There was a picturesque little copse to her right, around which the road bent. She tried to remember the map she had studied that morning in the general's tent, but only had a vague recollection of a small wood. She had no real idea how much further they had to go before reaching the picket camp established by the Amanites. Perhaps it was even around this bend? Time to give the horses a bit of a run, she decided, and urged her horse into a trot. Her company followed her example and they drew ahead of the column. As she rounded the bend she saw about one hundred paces ahead of her twenty or so mounted Chetts, relaxing as their horses cropped at the grass by the side of the road. She glanced quickly over her shoulder to make doubly sure her company was behind her, gave the signal to charge and kicked her horse to the gallop. The Chetts looked up in shock and whipped their mounts with their reins. They moved quickly back onto the road, but Mylor knew she had them. The distance between them closed to sixty paces, then forty. Mylor could feel her surprise turn to excitement; it was like being on a hunt back home. Thirty paces. She aimed the tip of her spear at the back of the nearest Chett rider, right where his kidney would be.