Chapter Thirty-Nine

A few men held. Not enough to win, but some. The charging Vuruni cavalry leapt over the wall, screaming and twirling their talwars and khukuris as they came and screaming battle cries as they did. Their black and gold banners flew high above them, their gold helmets shining in the sun. If Dryden were Vuruni, it would have been a sight to behold. Dryden had lost his sword in an enemy soldier. He drew his pistol and shot the first man to reach him. He deftly moved his horse aside and between two more. Rosie responded with agility, despite her injuries and exhaustion. Then he spurred his horse towards his colonel whom he had lost sight of in the melee. He simply followed that last banner which rose above the slaughter.

Those few men who had held now found themselves in a small bit of luck. The cavalry were like hunters, and they found now that fleeing men made easy prey. Something primal triggered in their minds and they rode to the slaughter, hacking down the retreating Vastrum deserters. Harper and Locke had not run. They fought through whirling cavalry trying to keep up with Dryden’s pace. Harper had a sword in his good left hand and fought like a devil. He had dropped his reins and now led the horse with his knees. Sergeant Locke alternated between his sword and blunderbuss, loading his gun when he could. Mar followed behind, exhausted from the effort of his wizardry. It was not easy, but slowly they made their way through the chaos to where Gorst was wheeling his horse around, fighting off their enemies. A handful of men stood around him. The foe now encircled the colonel and his few soldiers, seeking to hem them in, likely to capture them. Muskets fired somewhere around them and men screamed and fought with sword and bayonet.

Dryden looked around for somewhere defensible. He saw a spot at the left of the line. It was an outcropping that stood strewn with boulders and jagged rocks where the low pass met the mountain. A few Vastrum soldiers were already climbing up into the spot, seeking a dry island above the flood of death.

“Sir, there!” Dryden shouted at Gorst, pointing.

Gorst looked and saw it, “With me!” He shouted at the few men still with him and together those men and horse charged towards the defensible spot.

The enemy jumped back in surprise. They had not expected such a rapid movement, and they made way. As they rode, a shot rang out, and Gorst suddenly gave a start and fell forward on his horse. His feet were stuck in his stirrups and he gripped the pommel desperately. The horse, feeling its rider falling, started to pull away, so Dryden grabbed his reins and guided the horse to follow as they rode. The ride was a desperate one, but suddenly musket fire rang out from the hill above and the enemy riders fell away, some dead and others giving ground.

The small party climbed the short rise up to the outcropping. The terrain was difficult, so Dryden and the other riders dismounted and were forced to lead their horses up into the boulders on foot. Locke and Dryden together helped Gorst from his horse. The old colonel looked pale and the man pointed to his chest. Dryden saw the blood then. He and the sergeant hoisted Gorst onto their shoulders and bore him further up into their new position where the enemy riders dared not follow.

“Dryden!” A voice called out, “You made it, I wasn’t sure you would.” It was Captain Pugh.

“Pugh, old boy! I thought you’d fallen! I looked for you and couldn’t find you on the climb.” Dryden exclaimed. He and Locke put the colonel down in a spot that looked like a more comfortable bit of rock.

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“Me? Never. My horse on the other hand. They shot her dead in the first volley.” He said sadly, “I’m not a man for going on foot, let me tell you. If we get out of this spot, Dryden, I swear I shall never go on foot again anywhere. I am a man for horses, sir.”

“Situation?” Gorst gasped. He was having some difficulty breathing.

“I’ve arrayed my men around this knoll. Good cover, you see. When the men broke in the middle I took my men up here to see if we could ride out the slaughter.”

“Yours didn’t break?” Dryden asked.

“Marrowick boys don’t break easily, as you should know, being one yourself.” Pugh grinned at Dryden.

The major wondered how Captain Pugh could smile and even be jovial at a time like this. He did not mention it, however. He looked back around one of the large boulders to see what the enemy was up to. Several Vastrum men were running far down the hill, pursued by cavalry. One of them looked like he might make it for a moment, but one of the riders took up their jezzail and gunned him down. Soon all were dead but those few on the rocky outcrop.

Gorst’s breathing was ragged. Mar knelt next to him and began to dress the wound, “It hit his lung.” He said as he worked. He was no medic, but there were no proper medics left. At least Mar knew the anatomy of a man from his time in the wizard’s conservatory. There was little he could do, however, for the chest wound. Even if they’d had a proper surgeon, it was the kind of wound a man did not often survive. They could only make him comfortable and wait for the end to come.

“Sir,” Dryden said, kneeling beside Gorst opposite Mar, “What are your orders?”

“Did any of the cowards make it?” He coughed as he asked.

“No.”

“Damn. No word will get to Andaban, then. That will not do.” Gorst coughed again, this time some blood came with the cough. He paused and took a few ragged breaths. How many men do we have still?”

“Twenty-seven, including officers,” Pugh replied.

He sat thinking for a moment. When the colonel spoke again it was soft, “How many horse are left?” He asked.

“Five,” Pugh answered.

“Dryden, take five men and ride for Andaban. Pick any five you like, just leave me one good officer to take charge after I die. The rest will cover you as best they can with what ammunition we have left.”

“We will go tonight, then, in the dark.”

“Indeed.”

“I’ll take Pugh, Mar, Locke, and Harper. I want men who know how to ride.”

Pugh sighed, “Sir. It cannot be me.”

“What do you mean?” Dryden asked.

“You must leave an officer.”

“I’ll leave someone else.”

“There are no other officers besides us.”

Dryden looked around at the men who were gathered in their small hollow between the boulders and those who were positioned around overlooking the pass. He saw that Pugh was correct. There were no other officers. There were two sergeants, but no one to take command.

Dryden shook his head, “Damn it all. Pugh, you lead the group. Take Rosie and get out.”

Again Pugh shook his head, “He asked for you to lead, sir. Nobody else has your skill on a horse. Nobody else knows the enemy like you know them.”

“Bloody fucking damn it all. Damn these bastards.” Dryden felt a kind of helpless rage come over him. He stood and shouted at the sky in anger, then he walked to the edge of the outcrop, standing tall, taking no cover, and screamed, “Damn you! You are all dead men! Every bloody one of you will die by my wicked hand or the hands of men I command. I swear to all your gods and devils that it will be so!” The words echoed around between the glacier-peaked mountains. Somewhere something rumbled and Dryden felt that something had heard him, something more than the ears of men and horses or even the stone itself. His words had been carved in hatred within the land itself. The land has a long memory, the witch had said. He knew bloody vengeance would come to these lands and he regretted his words as soon as he said them.

Then he turned back to his men. They had felt the power of his words as well and looked at him now with something between fear and awe. “I need one man who knows his way with a horse. If we’re still here by then, we leave at midnight. Who will dare to ride with me?”