Blood War

Page 11

"Message, Captain Solis," a runner, not more than sixteen or seventeen—I knew by the scent—splashed up beside us, handing a folded note to Solis.
"Commander's meeting in a mark," Solis sighed, stuffing the note in a pocket. "Let's go dry off a bit before we have to show up and decide the pecking order." I trailed behind him, rain dripping off both of us as we went.
* * *
"Take the knife, leave the blades," Solis instructed, just before we left his tent. I'm ashamed to admit I used a little Power to dry off. I was sick of being wet, already. I put my blades, sheaths and harness inside my duffle before splashing after Solis toward the General's tent. His was much larger than any of the others, and he'd been inside the first room, (if you can call something with four cloth walls a room) when I'd delivered Solis' message and then waited for the General's reply.
We walked into the main body of the tent; Solis and the other Captains got a campstool, Sergeants and Lieutenants stood at the back. The High Commander of the Pelipu's troops sat opposite the General, with only a small table between them. Only Captains and Generals got bodyguards, and I and the other bodyguards present knelt next to our Captain's seat. The other officers used a pool of runners to get messages around and depended on the Regulars for safety—they didn't get personal runners, either.
I was the only female in the room, too. Was I surprised? Of course not. I'd seen a few women in the Regulars, and only one female Sergeant so far. She looked as if she could take on a charging bull all by herself. She'd been assigned to keep order among the troops while the meeting was held.
"The Pelipu's instructions are quite clear," the High Commander huffed after lengthy introductions and much posturing took place. "He has placed me in charge. All others answer to me."
"My men will answer to me, first," the General said quietly. "I will discuss orders with you but I will not be taken out of the chain of command. I answer to my King, after all, not yours. This is our country and I am familiar with it. I hold the maps and am able to read them. I know where the enemy is located and can lead you there."
"Very well, but I expect full notification for all significant orders." The High Commander wasn't happy; we all knew that, but the General did have a point—this was his country and he knew where the enemy, such as they were, lived. I was holding off Looking, to be honest. This would be a slaughter unless I did something about it.
There was more discussion, followed by questions and answers afterward, and one of those questions was what would be done if fights and squabbles broke out between the troops. It wasn't difficult to determine that Red Hand might be spoiling for a fight with Farus' army, whom they obviously held in contempt.
"I suggest a joint judgment, with officers from both sides to hear and decide the punishment," Solis offered. That recommendation was eventually agreed upon, with two from each side to be appointed by the General and the High Commander. This march was going to take about a month. How much trouble were they expecting?
The trouble started that afternoon. Two Red Hand troops wanted to cut in line at the mess tent. The Regulars shoved them out. Knives were pulled and three men were cut up—all of them Farus Regulars. Solis was called to the judgment afterward, which meant I was by his side the entire time.
The Red Hand Captains wanted to dismiss it as high spirits. Solis didn't say anything; he chose to allow Captain Cordus to do all the arguing for some sort of punishment instead. Finally, it was decided that the two who'd caused the trouble had to pull night guard duty for a week. Night guard duty consisted of one or two nights before falling to someone else, so a week wasn't such a stretch. I thought that was rather light punishment for slicing up your allies, but I wasn't in charge and wasn't going to be. Not of this rabble.
The rain had finally stopped when we set out the following morning, but we were going to be traveling over extremely wet ground, which meant the wagons would likely be stuck within the first hour or two. They were in the middle of the marching army, since they carried supplies. I'm not sure whom they expected to attack for what we had—the food was terrible.
Our combined army consisted of three thousand Farus troops, twenty-five hundred Red Hand soldiers and a contingent of teamsters, coopers and blacksmiths. I wasn't counting the small group of camp followers that trailed along behind, both male and female. Honestly, we might have been better off with only a few hundred troops since we were going to a massacre, but some people tend to go for overkill.
Solis and I rode along the south side of the marching army, with other officers scattered up and down the line. My poor horse was dubbed Brownie, and he was quite patient with me since I hadn't ridden anything after my short stint on Falchan. Yes, the ass was sore at the end of the day. I mentally told it to get used to this and went on.
There wasn't much chance for the Regulars and Red Hand to get into altercations while we were on the march, but they found a way once we stopped for the day. "Come on, let's watch blade practice while we wait for dinner," Solis turned our horses over to the Regulars assigned to picket duty. I'd been about to take care of the horses myself, but that didn't seem to be my job. Instead, I gave Brownie a pat and followed Solis.
The evenings were the time to get in blade practice, or in many cases, blade lessons. We watched some clacking away with wood blades, out on the muddy ground. The new grass on the practice ground was wet and slippery, too, and the heavy boots of sparring troops had mud churned up in no time. If the soldiers weren't careful, they'd lose their footing and fall right into the muck.
I drew in a deep breath and almost went around Solis when I saw one of The Red Hand troops challenging the boy who'd dropped his practice sword in the dirt the first day. I didn't think he'd improved much in the four days since then, and The Red Hand soldier was comfortable with a blade, I saw that right off. Solis grabbed my arm and pulled me back. I gave him a swift glance; his face was set.
Perhaps I should have done something other than stand there and watch The Red Hand mercenary give the boy a beating. And when the young man slipped in the mud, the mercenary deliberately delivered a hard blow to the head. I don't know whether the others heard it but I did—the boy's neck snapped and he collapsed like a sack of spilled grain.
Solis didn't stop me this time; in fact, he was striding angrily beside me as we watched the mercenary deliver a kick to the already dead teen. Solis' shout had the mercenary backing up, however, and one of The Red Hand Captains was coming in—he was probably worried there'd be trouble. He was right.
"The boy's dead," Solis knelt beside the body.
"I wasn't expecting him to fall," the mercenary whined his excuse. I wanted to kill him, right then and there. It was all I could do to keep my eyes and fangs under control.
"Take the boy and call the General," Solis snapped to the Regulars that came running up at his shout.
That's how we ended up at another judgment that night, with the General and the High Commander weighing in. All the Captains had come as well, from both sides. Apparently, the mercenary was the High Commander's prized blademaster. His malevolent nature had led him straight to the most inexperienced youth in the Farus army.
"If your man was as experienced as you say, then he should have been expecting the fall—the others were falling in the muck," Cordus complained to a Red Hand Captain.
"But no one can predict when the fall might occur," The Red Hand Captain defended his position and the mercenary. We had set up the judgment in a clear spot outside the camp, far enough away that prying eyes and ears wouldn't be privy to the proceedings.
The entire Farus army was angry over the incident, although they hadn't treated the youth very well, either. Red Hand had overstepped their bounds and I was beginning to wonder if it wasn't intentional. After all, the new King of Farus had sent the bulk of the army his country could afford on an errand, when a fourth that number might have sufficed. However, his advisors might have been worried over the number of well-trained troops the Pelipu was sending, and that, in my opinion, was a legitimate concern.
"Your soldier knew the boy had no training; how could he not? He should have asked someone with more experience to spar with him," Cordus snorted.
"He merely wished to teach the boy."
"He was not teaching; I have many witnesses to that."
"All the witnesses are your own troops." The Red Hand Captain sounded bored.
"This is getting us nowhere," the High Commander stood. "I suggest one of our own traditions to decide this. Our man, with a blade, against the best you have. The one that survives, wins."
"That is not how we handle things," the General rumbled.
"It's the quickest way to settle this. We could be at this for days," the High Commander yawned to get his point across.
"Let me," I said softly to Solis. He turned to give me a concerned look as I knelt in my accustomed place next to his campstool.
"You're good, but not that good," Desmun muttered to me from his seat beside Solis.
"I like this," the High Commander grinned maliciously. "Your smallest female, against my most experienced blademaster? That's a joke."
"Are you sure you can do this?" Solis asked me quietly.
"If I wasn't, I wouldn't volunteer. Who would go otherwise?" I asked.
"I would," Solis answered. I'd already guessed at that and wondered then if this whole incident wasn't a set-up. The High Commander wanted command of the entire army—had from the beginning. What better way to assert his authority and prove that he should be in charge, since his were the better troops and all? What better way to discredit the General's leadership as well? Prove to all that he was weak and worthy only to be second-in-command, if that? Yeah, I was extremely distrustful of the Pelipu, who seemed to have his own best interests and ideologies at heart. Too bad he wasn't here to be scrutinized.