Chapter 20

The 13th Dragoons arrived at the second encampment just as dusk was falling. They passed two layers of pickets on the way into the camp. Ahead of them was a ragged trickle of Vuruni refugees fleeing the city with the army. They had been tasked with taking up the rear along with the 22nd Rangers, a company of skirmishers dressed in green and black who fought with rifles rather than smoothbore muskets. They were elite marksmen and they were able to move quickly to screen retreats and maneuvers.

They were commanded by one Lieutenant Koen a middle-aged man recruited from the far southern colony of Durzan, which had a long history of colonization by different Western powers. He had reddish brown hair, green eyes, and a big chin covered with a five-o’clock shadow, he was a tall and burly man with a powerful frame. As Dryden passed by, he overheard the burly Durzani speaking to Lieutenant Wolcott, “Aye, it t’aint right that we’re bringin’ up the rear boyo.”

Dryden pulled his horse up, “What’s all this?”

“Oh, t’aint nothin’ Major, just chattin’ with my fellow soldier.” The big man shot him a winning smile. Perhaps that had worked with other officers.

“Sir, if you have a concern, please voice it, but voice it to me rather than grumbling about it.”

“Oh, well, I just don’t like that we’re bringing up the rear every day.”

“Someone has to. Besides, you’re a ranger, this is what you signed up for, isn’t it?”

“Aye. I don’t like followin’ these fuzzy bastards. They’re slowin’ us down. We should leave ‘em behind.”

“That word. You’ll not say it again. Not of our allies, at least.”

“What word, followin’?” The big man gave him a shit-eating grin.

Dryden dismounted from Rosie so fast he practically jumped from the mount. He pulled out a glove and slapped the man hard across the face, “You know damn well what word I meant. You will respect your superior officer. Come to attention!” He shouted the words in the man’s face.

He snapped to attention, “Apologies, sir.” He practically spit the word “sir”.

“You will not say that bloody word. You will not denigrate our allies.” Dryden’s jaw was clenched, it took everything he had not to slap the man again. “You are dismissed, lieutenant.”

The man saluted, turned, and marched off.

Dryden turned to his own officer, “Lieutenant. You will not engage in such talk again, yes?”

“Yes, sir,” Wolcott said before he too was dismissed.

Havor rode up with Rathma and Roxana in tow, along with several other officers. Dryden put his foot in his stirrup, stood himself up, and slung himself back into the saddle. “Sir.” He saluted.

Havor nodded to him, “What was all that about?”

“Just some disgruntled junior officers. They feel the refugees are slowing us too much.”

“And?”

“They’re not wrong. They were simply disrespectful in how they voiced it.”

“Indeed. Look out for that one, though, John.” The colonel gestured to the Ranger’s senior officer, “I hear he’s a right bastard. He’s one of Belfair’s bullies. Speaking of Belfair, he wants us in his tent.” Then he turned to those following him, “Our billets are over there. Make yourselves at home.” He gave a slight smile to Roxana as he said the last part. She gave him a strained smile in return. Her eyes were cold when she looked at him. The small group rode off. Havor and Dryden went the other direction from them, off towards the general’s tent.

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The camp they rode through was mostly orderly. Campfires with pots of stew were cooking, men were eating, muskets were arranged in neat stacks that looked like little pyramids, and bedrolls and tents were neatly ordered as well. The camp went on for what seemed like miles along the slope of the hill. They were far from the river at the bottom of the valley now, so the land here was mostly barren, with only the occasional tree. The ground was rocky, however, and it was difficult terrain. Still, they were making the best of it. He could see, however, that the colonist camp was less well-ordered, and the area to which the refugees had been assigned could hardly be called a camp at all. Dryden also noted, that from this new campsite, the city of Vurun could not be seen anymore. For better or worse, they had left that place behind them.

The general’s tent was large and made from bright red cloth. It was spacious inside and done up to look like his office. General Blackwater had brought his whole desk. Both Blackwater and Belfair were seated at it in large comfortable-looking chairs. Blackwater looked haggard and pale. Belfair was sipping what appeared to be a gin and tonic. He looked up as they entered the tent.

“General Blackwater. Brigadier Belfair.” Havor said. Both he and Dryden removed their shakos and saluted crisply.

Belfair saluted in return, then spoke first, “Ahh, yes, come in, come in. We’re still waiting on Colonel Gorst. I may as well start, though.” His tone was ominous, “This afternoon, shortly after we arrived and made camp here, we received a guest. You remember Kal’kuris, don’t you?”

“Indeed. The emissary.” Havor nodded.

“Yes, well, he’s created a bit of a dilemma for us, you see. The daughter of our friend, the late Shah Guranji has disappeared apparently. Damned unfortunate, you see, as Kurush intended to marry her.”

“What does that have to do with us, sir?” Havor replied haughtily.

“They think she’s with the army,” Belfair said.

“What would make them think that?” Havor squirmed, which was uncharacteristic of him.

“Where else should she go? Her clan has been all but dismantled with the death of her father. The few friends she has are mostly trailing along behind the army as refugees.” Belfair grinned like a cat as he watched Havor squirming. “The fact is, we know she’s here.”

“What does it have to do with me?” Havor said.

Blackwater had still said nothing since they entered the tent. Now the elderly white-haired general leaned forward and spoke, “For gods’ sake Jack, you’re not fucking her are you?”

Havor said nothing, he turned up his chin.

“You are! You bloody rascal, you!” Belfair began laughing loudly, “Good on you, son. I don’t bloody care about all that.”

“You’re a bore, James. Stop being so crude and low.” Blackwater admonished Brigadier Belfair sharply, then he turned to Havor, “This is serious. Jack, I cannot have you behaving in this manner. The new Shah wants her returned. I don’t think we can stop him; he’ll have her one way or another.”

“Have we no honour left, sirs?” Dryden spoke now, “A lady, a princess no less, has asked for our aid in escaping a man who would rob her of her honour, and we simply throw her to the dog? By all the dead gods…” He let the thought trail off.

There was silence in the tent. Then the tent flap opened and in walked Colonel Gorst, leading Roxana by the arm. She was still dressed in the black and white uniform of a cavalry trooper.

“Ahh, Colonel Gorst, thank you.” Blackwater said quietly, “Please sit, Roxana.” He gestured to a chair.

She sat.

Belfair leered at Roxana, “Well I see why you did it, Havor, you dog. She does look rather smashing in a trooper’s…”

“Belfair, you will behave as a gentleman, or I will strip you of command on this very spot!” Blackwater nearly shouted the words at him. For a moment he was his old self again, the man that Dryden knew from his first years in the army when he was merely a lieutenant. Then he reeled and nearly fainted and sighed back in his chair. He took a few moments to recover. There was total silence in the room while he recovered. Then he spoke again, “Very well. We will take her into our protection. I am a man of honour. Thank you, Major Dryden, for the reminder. From here forward, she will travel with the wives and daughters of the officers. Colonel Gorst, she will be with your daughter Julia. Disguise her as a servant.”

“I am no servant,” Roxana said defiantly.

“Yet, you will pretend to be one, and do it well, else I will return you to Kurush. The quality of your disguise will decide not only your fate. If they discover our deception, well, it doesn’t bear thinking about.” Blackwater spoke softly, but firmly.

Gorst then led Roxana from the tent by her arm, presumably to find where his daughter Julia was camped among the colonist families.

“Jack, what I am to do with you, then?” Blackwater frowned at him, “Were our situation not so precarious I’d remove you from command and court martial you. As it stands, I must have my cavalry commander, and I must have the 13th whole and in fighting shape. At such a time as we return to the safety of Andaban, you will be demoted. For now, the 13th is yours. Now leave my tent, all of you. I must needs retire.”

The whole army moved again the next day. They trudged through an icy easterly wind that blew harder with every step. Refugees turned to walk home in the hundreds, knowing they would be made slaves. It was still day when the 13th rode in at the end of the line. As evening came, great clouds full of moisture rolled in from the east, and just after the last light fled from the sky, the first snowflakes began to fall.