Chapter 23

The army camped again at a defensible spot another ten miles up the treacherous road that wound through the hills towards the mountain pass. Several carts were lost on the road, and a dozen more horses went lame. Two small cannons that had been dragged along behind a pair of oxen had to be abandoned when the road narrowed. Their crews spiked the guns and pushed them into a ravine so they could not be salvaged by the enemy. It was a long cold day, but at least no more snow fell, and no more dead came for them. The rear elements of the 13th were riding into camp for the evening when a rider came galloping up the road. Dryden watched the man arriving on horseback. Several troopers rode calmly to challenge his approach. After a moment they let the rider pass.

It was an irregular cavalryman, a sepoy, employed by the Company as a scout. He rode a bone white horse. He was clothed in brightly dyed flowing silk robes and he carried a long curved blade called a tulwar. The man had a thick mustache and the chiseled dark-skinned face of a Dravani. He had bushy eyebrows, a sharp nose, and deep green eyes. He rode up to Dryden directly, “Sir, are you in charge here?” His accent was rich and clear.

“I am Major Dryden of the 13th Dragoons, and you are?”

“Sazh Khad of Lieutenant Trezger’s irregulars.” He offered no rank or official title. Such was often the case with the irregulars that were employed as mercenaries for the V.A.C., “I was sent to scout for enemy movements.”

“You can give me your report. I’ll pass it along.”

“Sir, sahib, I prefer to give my report in person, and to my own commanders.” The man’s eyes pleaded. The man’s horse danced under him, he tried to steady it.

Dryden knew the man did not answer either to him or the commanders of the 7th Brigade. Colonel Hood commanded his regiment at the same functional rank as General Blackwater. Dryden could block the scout as he commanded the rearguard. He wanted the information that the scout had but felt that preventing his passage would be a poor showing, and might damage his relationship with the V.A.C. officers, “Very well. You can report to your commanders, but I want to hear what you have to tell them. It seems of importance.”

The man shrugged, “Do what you like.” Then added a “Sir” after a long pause.

Dryden left Captain Baker in charge and then went with the scout. Together they picked their way through the encampment. Tents were being erected, campfires lit, carts secured, and livestock butchered for dinner. The 5th V.A.C. regiment was housed near the middle of the encampment. They found Colonel Hood and several of his officers in a command tent in the centre of their well-ordered camp.

They stood and faced the door when Major Dryden entered followed by the scout named Sazh. There was no saluting, men of the King’s Own armies did not salute to mercenaries. Instead, Major Dryden bowed to Colonel Hood. The man was a Lord, an earl.

“Welcome, Major.” Hood greeted him somewhat warmly, “I see you’ve brought our little scout home to us. Good on you.” Then he turned to the scout, “Make your report, please.”

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“The enemy is shadowing the army. I saw the banners of three warlords.”

“Which ones?”

“Kujala, Zhigo, Thabaz.” He listed three names, ones that Dryden had yet to hear.

“Witch’s men, one and all.” One of the officers said. He bore the insignia of a Company major. The man had a dark beard peppered with grey hairs. He was perhaps fifty years old. He had crow’s-feet around deep brown eyes.

“Where are my manners? Major Dryden, this is Major Cushman. He runs the regiment for me most days.” Colonel Hood introduced the man.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance.” Dryden replied, “Pardon me if I sound ignorant, but how do you know these things about our enemy? Why have you not shared this with us?”

Cushman shrugged idly as he answered, “You arrived, what, two years ago? I was stationed in Vurun a decade ago. We have a network of agents scattered across this land giving us reports. I understand you met the Fyrin that follows Kurush. He’s just such an agent, excepting for the minor detail that he is our enemy. As for why we do not share? What good would it do? I hope you do not mind my candour, but Blackwater is senile and Belfair is a fool.”

“Don’t be too hard on the man, John.” Colonel Hood stopped his Major.

Dryden looked at him, surprised that he had said John, which was his own name.

Hood saw the confusion, “You’re both named John. Common name. Would that everyone in the world could have a unique name, but alas. That’s why we have family names, I suppose.” He sighed and gestured to the table in the middle of the room. On it there was a map of Vurun, “This is a game that has gone on for longer than you know, Major Dryden. A thousand years of conquest and rebellion. A dozen kingdoms have taken this place and been ejected. What is happening now has happened again and again, in some form or other. All for a little flower. With this flower, so goes the fate of kingdoms. We would be remiss in our stewardship of this great power if we did not do our best to understand the politics of this land. Allow me to explain.” He pointed to the map, “Vurun. The Indigo City. The valley.” He pointed to several towns and forts in the north of the valley, “Zundak, Kashma, Estran, Ishulla. Clan Dakal and Shah Guranji’s base of power.” He pointed east of the mountains, “Exiled clans. Old clans. An-Beya, An-Zhigo, An-Thabaz, and more. They found magic out there in the east, something both new, yet vastly ancient. The sister of Kurush, Aisa An-Beya is a practitioner, perhaps their most powerful. You’ve seen what she can do. The Fyrans support them. Their plan? Cut us off from the flower and take it for themselves. The clans and warlords that follow Kurush, though, are not as united as they seem. Some follow his sister. Some follow him. Most follow along only for plunder. They will fall to strife within a year. Then we will return and take this place again.”

“Why are you telling me all this?” Dryden asked.

“You’re a good officer and a good fighter. I’m hoping once this is all done, you’ll accept a commission in the V.A.C. working for me.” Hood shot him the barest hint of a smile, “Of course, that all assumes we live through this.”

Dryden was taken aback, “I don’t know what to say, Colonel.”

“Don’t say anything, just think on it. As for the news we received from our scout, I expect you’ll share it with your commanders. I shouldn’t think it will make much difference, as Cushman already expressed.” He turned away from Dryden, making it clear the audience was at an end, then looked back for a moment, “Chin-chin.” That was all he said.

Dryden made his way from the tent, mounted his bay mare Rosie, and rode back through the camp to where the 13th was bivouacked. He told Colonel Havor about the enemy warlords shadowing the army. He told him of what he had learned of the enemy, their politics, and of Aisa An-Beya. He said nothing of the offer to join The Company.