'You may,' said the general. 'Our intelligence reports show that a Nadir uprising is planned, and it is our duty to see that it does not happen. Reports have been gathered and compiled showing that the Curved Horn tribe have been mustering for a major raid on the lands around Gulgothir. We shall crush this tribe; it will send a message to other Nadir chieftains. First, however, we shall march to the Shrine of Oshikai and dismantle it stone by stone. The bones of their hero will be crushed to powder and scattered upon the steppes.'
The veteran Marlham spoke up. 'But surely, sir, the Shrine is a holy place to all the tribes. Will this not be seen by all the leaders as provocation?'
'Indeed it will,' snarled Gargan. 'Let them know, once and for all, that they are a slave race. Would that I could bring an army of forty thousand into the steppes. By Shemak, I would slay them all!'
Premian was tempted to speak again, but Gargan had been drinking and his face was flushed, his temper short. He was leaning on the desk, the muscles of his arms sharp and powerful in the lantern light, his eyes gleaming. 'Does any man here have a problem with this mission?'
The other officers shook their heads. Gargan straightened and moved round the desk, looming over the shorter Premian. 'How about you? As I recall you have a soft spot for these scum.'
'I am a soldier, sir. It is my duty to carry out all orders given to me by a superior officer.'
'But you don't agree with them, do you?' sneered Gargan, pushing his bearded face so close to Premian's that the officer could smell the sour taste of wine upon the other's breath.
'It is not my place to disagree with policy, sir.'
'Not my place,' mimicked Gargan. 'No, sir, it is not your place. Do you know how many tribesmen there are?'
'No, sir.'
'No, sir. Neither do I, boy. Nor does any man. But they are numberless. Can you imagine what would happen if they joined together, under one leader? They would sweep over us like a tide.' He blinked and returned to his table, sitting heavily on the canvas chair which groaned under the sudden weight. 'Like a tide,' he mumbled. Sucking in a great breath, he fought to overcome the wine in his system. 'They must be humbled. Crushed. Demoralized.'
A commotion began outside, and Premian heard men shouting. With the other officers he left the tent. A wall of flame was lighting the night sky, and smoke was swirling around the camp. Horses began whinnying in fear. Premian swung his gaze around the camp. The fire would sweep right over it. 'The water wagons!' he yelled. 'Harness the wagons!' Premian began to run across the camp to where the twenty wagons had been drawn up in a square. Each carried sixteen barrels. A man ran by him in panic and Premian grabbed his shoulder. 'Fetch horses for the wagons,' he said, his voice ringing with authority.
'Yes, sir,' replied the soldier, saluting. He moved away. Premian saw a group of soldiers trying to gather their belongings from a communal tent. 'Leave them,' he shouted. 'If the wagons go up, we'll all die. You three get to the picket line. Fetch horses. The rest of you start dragging these wagons into line for harness.'
The flames were licking at the edge of the camp now. Hundreds of men were trying to beat out the fires using blankets and cloaks, but Premian saw that it was pointless. Soldiers came running back, leading frightened horses. A tent caught fire. The first of the wagons was harnessed and a soldier climbed to the driving board and lashed out with the reins. The four horses leaned in to the harnesses and the wagon lurched forward.
A second wagon followed; then a third. More men came to help. Premian ran to the nearest picket line. 'Cut the rest of the horses loose,' he told a soldier standing by. 'We'll round them up tomorrow!'
'Yes, sir,' responded the man, slashing his knife through the picket rope. Premian grabbed the reins of the nearest horse and vaulted to its bare back. The beast was panicked, and reared, but Premian was an expert horseman. Leaning forward, he patted the horse's long neck.
'Courage, my beauty,' he said. Riding back to the wagons, he saw that a further six had been harnessed and were moving east away from the line of fire. More tents were ablaze now, and smoke and cinders filled the air. To the left a man screamed as his clothes caught fire. Several soldiers threw him to the ground, covering him with blankets, smothering the flames. The heat was intense now, and it was hard to breathe. Flames were licking at the last of the wagons, but two more were harnessed.
'That's it!' yelled Premian at the struggling soldiers. 'Save yourselves!'
The men mounted the last of the horses and galloped from the burning camp. Premian turned to see other soldiers running for their lives. Several stumbled and fell, and were engulfed by flames. He swung his horse — and saw Gargan walking through the smoke. The general looked bewildered and lost. 'Bren!' he was shouting. 'Bren!'
Premian tried to steer his horse to the general, but the beast would not move towards the flames. Dragging off his shirt Premian leaned forward, looping it over the horse's eyes and tying it loosely into place. Heeling the now blind stallion forward, he rode to Gargan.
'Sir! Mount behind me!'
'I can't leave Bren. Where is he?'
'He may already be clear, sir. If we stay any longer we'll be cut off!'
Gargan swore, then reached up to take Premian's outstretched hand and, with the practised ease of a skilled horseman, he swung up behind. The young officer kicked the stallion into a gallop across the burning steppes, swerving around the walls of flame that swept towards the north-west. The heat was searing, and Premian could hardly see through the smoke as the horse thundered on, its flanks scorched.
At last they outran the fire and Premian dragged the exhausted stallion to a stop. Leaping from its back, he turned and watched the camp burn.
Gargan slid down beside him. 'You did well, boy,' he said, placing his huge hand on Premian's shoulder.
'Thank you, sir. I think we saved most of the water wagons.'
The stallion's flanks were charred and blistered, and the great beast stood shivering now. Premian led him to the east, where the main body of soldiers had gathered.
Slowly, as the fire died away in the distance, men began making their way back to the camp, searching through the wreckage. By dawn all the bodies were recovered. Twenty-six men and twelve horses had died in the flames. All the tents had been destroyed, but most of the supplies had survived; the fire had passed too quickly to burn through all the sacks of flour, salt, oats and dried meat. Of the nine water wagons left behind, six had caught fire and were now useless, though most of the barrels containing the precious water were saved. Only three had split their caulks.
As the early-morning sun rose above the blackened earth of the camp-site, Gargan surveyed the wreckage. 'The fire was set in the south,' he told Premian. 'Find the names of the night sentries in that section. Thirty lashes per man.'
'Yes, sir.'
'Less destruction than we might have expected,' said the general.
'Yes, sir. Though more than a thousand arrows were lost, and around eighty lances. I'm sorry about your manservant. We found his body behind the tent.'
'Bren was a good man. Served me well. I took him out of the line when the rheumatic ruined his sword arm. Good man! They'll pay for his death with a hundred of their own.'
'We've also lost six water wagons, sir. With your permission I will adjust the daily ration to allow for the loss, and suspend the order that every Lancer must be clean-shaven daily.'
Gargan nodded. 'We'll not get all the horses back,' he said. 'Some of the younger ones will run clear back to Gulgothir.'
'I fear you are correct, sir,' said Premian.
'Ah, well. Some of 'our Lancers will have to be transferred to the infantry; it'll make them value their mounts more in the future.' Gargan hawked and spat. 'Send four companies through the pass. I want reports on any Nadir movements. And prisoners. Last night's attack was well executed; it reminds me of Adrius and the winter campaign, when he slowed the enemy army with fire.'