Chapter Twenty-Nine

Even knowing what was coming, Dryden was shocked by the scene outside the tent. Hundreds of Vastrum and sepoy cavalry were in chaos as skeletons rose from the ground around them. Their claw-like skeletal hands tore soldiers and horses alike back down into the dirt. Dark spirits flew in the sky above the soldiers, swooping to attack the falling men. Darkness and mist flowed up and through the cavalry, as they went. Men and horses fell together, dragged down to the ground by the dead soldiers that clawed up at them from below. The whole battlefield beyond the horsemen moved with undead as Vastrum soldiers fought for their lives.

The enemy cavalry wheeled and broke off from their charge. They cheered and whooped as they went, riding hard for the tent where Dryden and his few men stood. There was no winning this. They could stay and be killed or captured, or they could mount up and flee.

Dryden stuck his head back into the tent, and spoke to Rathma, “Can you bring them?”

The Dravani servant answered by grabbing Havor’s jacket, slinging him over his back, and hauling the colonel from the tent. The colonel groaned as he was lifted. Dryden went to grab Blackwater, but one of the guards in the tent stepped forward brandishing a tulwar.

“You will not take him,” Kurush said, a false smile playing on his lips.

“Where is your honour, sir, we came here under a banner of peace,” Dryden demanded.

“You people came to Vurun under the same banner. How many did you kill?” The king’s smile turned to a sneer.

The man with the tulwar advanced on Dryden.

“Sahib! We must go!” Rathma’s cry came from outside the tent.

Dryden growled and slipped back outside where Rathma was waiting to hand him Rosie’s reins. Together he and his handful of men mounted and rode away from the tent. Havor was draped over the back of his horse Commandant, with Rathma in the saddle. The enemy cavalry arrived at the tent only moments after they had gone. A few of them came chasing the remaining Vastrum men. They peeled off after only a few seconds as they were called back by their commanders. Ahead of them, the same skeletal warriors rose from the ground. The bulk of the 13th and the sepoy lancers were simply gone. A few still rode on, fighting the tide of undeath that threatened to pull them down. The few dozen survivors were riding to meet Dryden’s detachment.

“Ride at them hard!” Dryden shouted, “If you waver, you will fall. We will crush the bones under our hooves!” He spurred Rosie hard in the flanks and she responded by galloping faster.

They rode through the skeletal warriors, hands reaching up to meet them. One horse went down. Then a second. Dryden screamed with rage as he rode as if he could make it through by anger alone. He heard men yelling beside him. He struck with his sword where he could, but his horse’s hooves did most of the hard work, crushing bones into the dirt. Then suddenly they were through the wall of skeletons, beyond the edge of the old battlefield. Beside them, they were joined by a scattered group of other cavalry that had escaped the trap that the necromancer Aisa had sprung upon them. Dryden looked around for Rathma and Havor, but they were nowhere to be found among the horsemen. He looked back and saw Rathma dragging Havor’s body back towards the tent away from the skeletons where he and the colonel were obscured from view by Vuruni horsemen.

There was nothing to be done. They rode hard for their own lines. Dryden found Colonel Gorst waiting for him at the front of the army, having just fought off a mass of skeletal warriors.

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“That looked a bloody hard ride, Major. What the devil happened?” Gorst asked as he arrived.

“They’ve been taken prisoner. It was the witch.”

“Blood and thunder. What of Blackwater and Belfair?”

“Captured. Havor too, I think, if he still lives. Where is Roxana?” Dryden asked, “This is all because we would not give her over. She must be protected, I think, at all costs.”

“For the Shah’s daughter?” Gorst asked, “He’d do all this for her?”

“To secure his kingdom? He’d do anything for that. What are your orders, sir?”

“My orders? I don’t command the cavalry.” Gorst said, scoffing.

“You do, sir, the whole army is yours to command, is it not? Belfair, Blackwater, and Havor are all taken. Of the remaining officers, you are the most senior, are you not?” Dryden replied.

Gorst frowned deeply, “I suppose so. Very well.” Then he turned to one of his officers, a man named Abernathy. When the colonel spoke now his voice had changed, it was more military than before. This was business he knew, and well. Now he was no longer held back by his generals, and he could simply go about the business of being a soldier, “Prepare the army to march up the pass. I want lines of sturdy soldiers covering our rear. Put those 19th Guludan Natives at the centre, Captain Khathan knows his business. I want my grenadiers on the left flank, and those good Marrowick boys on the right. I want them to fall back by ranks, covering fire, and all that. Hurry now, if you please, wot.” Next, he turned back to Dryden, “Major, the 13th, or what’s left of it is yours now. I’ll give you Blackwater’s old horse guard, and the sepoy irregulars as well, if any are left. If they ride a horse, they’re yours. Reform what remains. Your only task now is to escort our colonists. By all the devils and gods in the world, we’re getting over that damned pass.” Men snapped to attention, following his orders to the letter. He marched his way off through the throng bellowing orders to sergeants and demanding order in the ranks. By the time Dryden had made his way to where the remaining cavalry was gathered, the whole army was moving in a way that Dryden had not seen in his whole time in Vurun.

The major rode up to where Captain Pugh, Sergeants Flint, Vane, and Locke were sitting on their horses, “Where’s everyone else? Baker, Brine, and the lot.”

“This is everyone.” Flint replied gruffly, “Upton and Reed are with the carts. A few are with the surgeon, I expect Captain Wilson will lose his arm.”

There were roughly two dozen troopers behind them, another two dozen sepoy horsemen, and another dozen horse guard. They had begun the day with two hundred dragoons, another fifty sepoy horse and two dozen horse guard. Dryden’s voice cracked, “What of Mar?”

“Here, Major. Lost my horse, I’m afraid.” Mar spoke from the ground, where Dryden had not been able to see him.

So many were simply gone. He didn’t know what to say, “Get yourself a horse from the quartermaster, Mar.”

“Aye, I’ll do that. What of Jack?” The mage used their commander’s first name, a breach of etiquette. Havor and Mar had truly been friends, so he ignored it.

“Captured or dead, I can’t be certain.” He replied, “There’s not many of us, but we have to reform, and quickly.” Dryden shouted out to the rest of the assembled cavalry, “Colonel Gorst is now in command of the army. We’re no longer to bring up the rear. Our duty is to protect the colonists, even unto death.” Together they rode up and away towards where the colonists and their carts were beginning to move towards the long road which led up to the last fort at Golconda and the final approach to the Settru Pass.

Dryden looked back at the men lined up behind them who protected their flank and the retreat. The remaining skeletons had been defeated by Vastrum’s massed line infantry. Somewhere a regimental mage fired a spell that blasted into the shadowy creatures that circled overhead and drove them away. Blackwater had rarely employed his wizards, he did not trust in magic. Now the gloves had come off. They were finally led by a competent commander. The major wondered if it would matter, or if the change had come too late. There was no time to consider it, really. No time to grieve. No time to feel the pain of the loss of his friends and compatriots. No time to consider the loss of so many men. The only thing he, or any of them could do, was their duty. The only thing they could trust were their horses, their steel, and the man next to them. After a quick assessment of what he still had under his command, he spurred Rosie, his old bay mare, into a trot towards that dark road up the mountain. He did not look back to see if his men were with him; the pounding of horse’s hooves on the hard-packed earth told him they were. Then, as they rode, somewhere across the plain a horn blew. A great sound went up like the roaring of the ocean, and the whole host of Kurush’s horde began to march forward together.