Chapter Twenty-Seven

Havor had the cavalry form into a series of lines that stretched most of the way across the front of the Guludan infantry. They moved slowly at first, keeping just ahead of the sepoys. Then, as they advanced, they went from a walk to a trot, and then to a canter. Finally, when they were within a hundred yards, and the enemy had turned to face them, they turned fast and rode hard to the left, leaving a screen of dust behind them. The undisciplined enemy turned continually to face the dragoons. They were far out on the end of the line now. A whole mass of enemy infantry faced them. Shots rang out. A few horses and men went down. Suddenly the Guludan regiment was in range, clear of the dust, and had been left uncovered by the cavalry’s manoeuvring. They were lined up in two ranks. With the horse out of the way and the enemy looking off to the flank, the first rank fired. Vuruni soldiers fell dead. The first rank knelt and the second rank fired. More men died.

A bugle sounded. Havor twirled his sword over his head, and the whole 13th wheeled around together. Dryden had been at the back, but found himself next to the standard bearer, Private Harper, again, now at the front of the line. They spurred their horses hard. All two hundred dragoons and their steeds moved forward together.

The sepoys had reloaded. The first rank fired again. Then the second rank. More enemies fell. The Vuruni infantry broke before the charge hit home. The Vastrum cavalry flowed down and through the fleeing men. Dryden swung his sword again and again. His sabre was sharp. Cleaving through men like a sickle through tall wheat. The enemy infantry were nothing at all. Men were trampled. Butchered. The left side of the enemy line crumbled, followed by the centre. The whole mass of the enemy began to flee. A cheer went up from the centre as the enemy fell back.

A bugle sounded again, this time to hold and form up. The 13th broke off, letting the enemy go. Dryden felt it was a mistake. Havor looked around to see who had blown the bugle. He appeared ready to kill the man on the spot. Brigadier Belfair was riding up with a small contingent of his junior officers.

“Well done, well done my boys. Well done indeed!” The corpulent general’s face was split in a wide grin.

Havor rounded on him, “What in the name of the gods was that?”

Belfair’s grin turned to a scowl, “Soldiery, my dear boy, soldiery.”

Dryden looked back behind Belfair and saw the ragged and thin ranks of the Vastrum soldiers behind him.

“You call that soldiery, you bastard?” Gorst’s voice sounded behind the man, “You called for squares. There was no cavalry, yet you called for squares! Damn you Belfair!”

“You will watch your tone with me, I outrank you!” Belfair shouted suddenly, his tone going from jubilant to furious in a moment, “I will not be spoken to in such a manner! Where is your fucking decorum and sense of duty, sirs? The next man to speak against me will see the gibbet!” He screamed, his face purple with rage, “This is his majesty’s army, and I will have respect! I will have order!” Spittle flew from his mouth as he raged. Then the man turned and whipped his horse to go back to the devastated ranks of what remained of his infantry.

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Colonels Gorst, Havor, and Major Dryden all looked to one another in the silence that followed. They all knew now the depth of the failure. Half their infantry was now dead. Only a handful of sepoy units, the rangers, and the 13th now remained mostly unscathed. The baggage train, the colonists, the livestock, everything was in chaos. How could they go on, now? The army was on the edge of ruin. The column was in tatters. Yet they could not make camp here. It was too risky to sleep near so many corpses which could be raised by their enemies. They had to move on.

Colonel Gorst pulled his horse alongside Dryden’s, “Major, I know you for a soldier and a man of honour. I have a request of you. My Julia is with the colonists. If I should fall… “ He let the words hang in the air. The veil had been pulled back. This venture was lost. Gorst had not considered that they might not all survive until now.

“I will do what I can for her,” Dryden replied. He wondered if there was anything that could be done. He still made the promise.

Most of the rest of the day was spent recovering what goods they were able to, righting carts, collecting livestock, and assessing the damage. It was nearly evening when they set out again. It was night when the exhausted column arrived at the next campsite. Tents were hastily erected. Fires were started with such fuel as was available. Dryden found that his own tent had been in the cart that he had seen lost over the cliff. He slept on the cold hard ground inside Colonel Havor’s tent alongside Rathma, Mar, Captain Pugh, and Lieutenant Brine, who had also lost their equipment in the same cart. None of them spoke. They simply slept and went through the motions of living. All of them were bone weary and Dryden could see they all shared the same sense of shock and horror that he did. To speak, would be to speak the horror into existence, how could they talk of anything else, and if they did speak of it, how could they go on with this mad journey?

The next morning they rose in silence. Rathma cooked a pot of porridge for breakfast. Better food had already been eaten or had been lost the day before. As they were preparing to leave camp a messenger came and handed Colonel Havor a note.

“It seems Kurush wants to parlay.” Havor summarized the letter, “Blackwater, Belfair, and myself, are to attend the meeting.”

“What do they want to talk about?” Pugh asked, “It seems a trap.”

“True. We’ll have an escort. John, I want you commanding.” He used Dryden’s first name, he only did that when he was worried, “We’ll take a dozen troopers. Captain Pugh, you will be in command here until we return. Have the men ready to ride, yes? Make sure they’re ready to fight if needed.”

“When is the meeting to happen, sir?” Dryden asked.

“At the top of the hour.”

They met the rest of the commanders at the edge of the camp. Blackwater’s own guards were there, along with a dozen picked troopers from the 13th. Several adjutants and other junior officers were along with Blackwater. The old general looked exhausted and haggard, his face was gaunt and drawn. Belfair was there too. He looked cold and grouchy.

Blackwater looked over at one of his junior officers, “I’m tired. Must we do this now?”

“Yes sir, we must.” The corporal replied.