Chapter 26

The next day saw the road make a treacherous climb up the side of an escarpment. They climbed slowly. The oxen pulling the colonists’ carts had trouble up the rise. Furthermore, snipers occasionally shot down at them. There was not a good place for the enemy to mass, but still, the few snipers placed around them did not need to be accurate to kill men. Even so, the deadliest foe were not the Vuruni snipers, but the road itself. Ice had formed in the night and the slippery rocks were treacherous. The road was narrow too. Dryden watched as a cart full of supplies, together with its driver and team of oxen tumbled screaming down the cliff after slipping off the side. Still, the army pushed on. There was nothing to be done for those that fell. Numbness crept into his heart as they marched up that bastard of a road.

As the army arrived at the top of the road well ahead of the 13th, the sounds of massed gunfire erupted. There had been reports of enemy movement ahead of them, but down on the road at the back of the line, they were in the dark. Wind whipped at Dryden’s great coat. He wanted to spur his horse and join the fighting, but the road was too narrow, there was no way to move up the line. The column moved inexorably forward, inch by inch, foot by foot. The gunfire grew ever closer as they approached the lip of the cliff. Carts were being moved, and cattle pushed aside as they arrived. Bullets whizzed in the air. Then suddenly they were above the edge of the canyon and utter chaos came into view.

Colonist carts were overturned for cover. Troopers were dismounted and hunkering down. Cattle roamed freely, some had been caught in the gunfire and lay dead. Ahead of them sepoys were deployed in the front and Vastrum regiments were deploying behind them. Belfair, Gorst, and other officers were riding around giving orders madly. General Blackwater was nowhere to be seen. Dryden spurred Rosie and drew his sword. Colonel Havor was just ahead of him, still on his horse trying to rally the 13th to him. Mar and several officers were gathered with colonists behind a great cart which lay on its side. Both oxen that had pulled the cart up from the valley were riddled with bullets and lying dead.

Snow was beginning to fall as Dryden arrived next to Havor, “Sir, we must take cover.” He admonished his commander.

“I’ll do no such thing.” Havor shot back. A musket ball whizzed between them, but Havor took no note of it, “We must see off those cavalry on the left flank, lest they get behind our main line.” He pointed with his sabre to the far left where a large unit of Guludan infantry was trying to form an ordered line. They had no support and kept falling back in the face of a group of light Vuruni horsemen who were harassing them aggressively. The colonel looked down at the soldiers and officers who were hiding behind carts and boulders, then bellowed out for all the regiment to hear, “Up men, up and on your mounts. It is our day to bleed, to die, and to kill. So up, you bloody bastards, and get thee to thine slaughter. Sound the bugle, draw your swords, and ride with me!” He screamed these last words, his voice carrying over the whole blood-soaked field. Those that were hiding came out and mounted back up, then together they followed Lord Havor into battle.

The Bloody 13th rode hard for the left side where Havor had pointed. A group of light cavalry was harassing a unit of sepoys who were dressed in red and blue uniforms. They had dark blue jackets and bright red pantaloons. They wore white turbans. They were armed with what looked like good muskets. Dryden had recognized them as a regiment from the southern colony of Gulud, they were known to be steadfast. They cheered when they saw the 13th coming to aid them. The enemy riders saw them coming too, and retreated rapidly from the flanks. The lines of the Guludan sepoys quickly reformed and the left flank stabilized without the 13th having to do anything aside from show themselves. Dryden was grateful for that.

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The left end of the battlefield was slightly higher than the rest of the field, a slight rise from which they could see the battle unfolding. Dryden stopped his horse next to Havor who was observing the fighting, along with his captains and lieutenants, determining where they were needed next. They could see Vastrum units advancing out towards the enemy in good order in the centre. On the right, Dravani sepoys held. The enemy was massed nearby, with few of them mounted up. Many of them were on foot, trying to emulate the tactics of line infantry. Dryden watched them, somewhat confounded. They were not firing in volleys, but firing at will, in a kind of odd mob of soldiers. The Vastrum line infantry advanced on them. Suddenly, as they advanced, a bugle sounded, and the army began to quickly march and reform its order of battle.

“What the devil are they doing in the centre?” Havor observed in confusion.

“Are they forming squares, sir?” Captain Pugh asked, looking through a spyglass.

“I can’t imagine they would against massed infantry, sir.” Lieutenant Brine replied.

Pugh handed the glass to him, “See for yourself.”

He took that spyglass and looked, “By all the stupid bloody gods!” He exclaimed.

Even without a spyglass, Dryden could see it now. They were indeed forming squares. The formation was like a square fortress made of ranked soldiers facing outwards with guns and bayonets. It was an excellent formation against cavalry as there was no flank to strike at. It was horrid against infantry as three-quarters of your muskets were pointed the wrong way, and it massed the men, allowing them to be easily shot. It was suicide against artillery. They were lucky the enemy had none of the latter. The shocking thing was that little enemy cavalry was present. All their warriors were on foot. The men must have known, but they followed their orders, the formations and marches drilled into them over years of training. They were doing their duty. As they formed squares the enemy slowly moved forward, emboldened by the massed enemy who was making a tactical error. More shots rang out and the enemy moved towards them.

Havor grabbed his reins and whipped his horse over to where the sepoy officers were standing. They too were watching in shock. Their leading officer was a dark-skinned Guludan man. He wore the same uniform as the rest but had a bright red turban and a huge curved sword that marked him as an officer. The man had a thick black moustache, a thickset face, and a muscular physique.

“Lieutenant-Colonel Havor, 13th Dragoons!” Havor shouted to the officer in a brief battlefield introduction.

“Captain Khathan, 19th Guludan Native Regiment!” The man shouted back with a thick accent.

“We will screen you!” Havor shouted down at him, “Advance and enfilade them. Once you’ve engaged, we’ll hit them from the back. We’ll roll up their whole flank, yes?”

“Yes, sahib. We will do it!” The officer shouted back. Then, before Havor could leave, the Guludan captain asked, “Why are they forming squares, do you know?”

“They are commanded by a fool!” Havor shouted back. Then they were off again, in a vain attempt to salvage something of the mess that Brigadier Belfair was making.