Chapter Twenty-Seven

General Haddock’s tent was as busy as ever. A few officers were seated around his desk going over maps and plans for campaigning. Havelock and Dryden entered the tent together and were beckoned over. Extra chairs were brought for them and they sat with the rest of the officers. Besides General Haddock there was Colonel Shelton, an infantry officer with dark hair who always seemed to be brooding, Colonel Wilkes, who was a jolly fellow with a bright face and a rose red from a lifelong enjoyment of gin, and Colonel East, a taciturn artilleryman with bright red hair.

Once they were seated, Haddock spoke up, “Gentlemen, welcome. I called you here because I have just received a reply from the governor-general, Lord Robert Blakely. He repeated his order that we withdraw and sent his regrets. I understand that this will upset you, Major Dryden, as you made it clear to me when we last spoke on the matter several weeks ago.”

Time had passed since Dryden had arrived back at the main camp of Haddock’s army. They had made it over the pass and into Vurun and had stayed at Zundak, but they were stalled there. They had waited for word from the southern army led by General Winslow, but they’d had no word. Then, finally, they’d been instructed to retreat. It was a slap in the face to everything they had done.

“Do you mean to obey?” Dryden asked.

General Haddock’s eyes flashed, “I mean to do my duty, yes.”

“What about the duty to our people?”

“My duty is to my orders, Major, do not forget that. I will carry them out to the best of my ability, as we all do. I will help who I am able when my orders allow it.”

The faces of the other officers were grim. Not one of them wanted to retreat here. Vurun lay open before them. Scouts had reported that the enemy army was currently engaged in the business of fighting Winslow’s V.A.C. army in the vicinity of Golconda. Haddock’s northern army had achieved victory and was now held back only by political interference.

“Sir, might I interject here,” A young lieutenant from General Haddock’s staff approached the table of senior officers. He was a ruddy-faced young man, with a solid look to him.

“What is it, Lieutenant Charles?”

“Sir, might I offer a solution?” The young man asked.

“You might,” Haddock looked deeply irritated, both at the situation and the young man’s impertinence. It was highly unusual for junior officers to interject in this manner. Dryden felt that if the young man’s idea was not solid he might find himself punished.

“Well, sir, it seems to me that Lord Blakely has given you orders to retreat, but he has left the tactical decisions of when, how, and by what route, to you, sir.”

Several of the officers scoffed at once. Haddock leaned back in his chair frowning slightly. Dryden did not quite see what the lad was getting at. Maneuverings were never Dryden’s strong suit. Colonel Shelton looked up at the boy from his seat, “To be clear, are you suggesting, lad, that we retreat from our current position south through Vurun?”

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“Indeed, sir, that is precisely what I am suggesting,” The young lieutenant said quickly.

Haddock was silent and lost in thought. He stared at the map of Vurun on his desk.

Colonel Wilkes took a swig from a small pocket flask and frowned, “We can’t very well go around disobeying orders like this.”

“We’re not disobeying. We would be following them in the manner of our choosing,” The young lieutenant shot back, “Using the leeway given us by Lord Blakely himself, sir.”

“The impertinence!” Colonel Shelton exclaimed at the young man’s outburst.

“We would be redefining the very language of Vastrum by carrying on in the manner you suggest!” Colonel Wilkes added, “He told us to retreat, we ought to retreat.”

“Sirs, I like the idea,” Colonel East spoke up briefly but said no more on it.

“What of you, Havelock and Dryden?” Haddock asked finally.

“I’ll do whatever you require of me,” Havelock replied.

“Dryden?”

“He gave us the leeway to choose our route home, did he not? Let me ask you, under normal circumstances, would it be faster and easier to go home via the northern passes, or by Golconda and Settru?” He knew the answer. The north was far more difficult normally. The lieutenant had thrown them a lifeline with his suggestion, and Dryden had grabbed hold of it.

“Well, I should think we would go south if there were no army facing us, but we’ve got one just there,” Colonel Shelton replied pointing to the location of the enemy army on the map, “The letter also said safest. Is this a safer route?” There was silence at that question.

“How many months until the weather turns?” Haddock asked.

It was well into the summer now. The lieutenant replied, “Two perhaps. It turns bad earlier in the northern passes as they are several thousand feet higher than Settru Pass.”

“How long before we could be over the passes here and on our way south?”

“Days to break camp. Weeks to get the artillery back over.”

“Is there any chance we could have an early storm and lose our artillery?” Haddock asked, looking for any reason to go south to Vurun.

“It is possible,” Dryden replied.

“Sir, you cannot be considering this!” Wilkes exclaimed suddenly, “You would be redefining what it means to retreat. The very meaning of our language is at stake here!”

“I find, Colonel Wilkes, that it may be safer for my army to retreat in the mild climate of the valley of Vurun. I intend to join up with General Winslow and retire across Settru Pass.”

“That requires us to go through the enemy.”

“It will be a fighting retreat, then,” Haddock grinned at him.

The tent opened and a sepoy came in carrying a letter. He was one of the Dravani lancers, a private. They had been patrolling over the eastern passes at Zundak. He saluted crisply, stepped forward and handed the letter to Haddock who opened and read it.

“Ahh, damn,” Haddock said, “The Fyrin army has been sighted a week away from the pass. We must be done with these adolescent games over the meanings of words and begin our retreat quickly.” The way Haddock said it, it seemed he meant the discussion was done and they would not be going to Vurun. Dryden’s heart sank at the thought. So many would be left to suffer. Julia, Helena, and so many more.

Wilkes and Shelton both sighed, almost in relief, “So we’re heading back the way we came, then, sir?” Shelton asked tentatively.

Haddock smirked, “I said let us be done with the game, not that you had won it. The decision is made. We retreat south to Vurun. Damn, those Fyrin bastards. I’ll not let them have it. If I must rewrite the whole of our native tongue to defeat them, by the gods I’d do it without a second thought.”

“What happened to following orders?” Shelton asked.

“You see I am, but orders must be interpreted, Colonel. If we tried for the northern passes with the Fyrin at our heels, we would be caught from behind and buggered. So you see, we are retreating by the most expedient and safe means available to us.”

The next two days were spent preparing the army to move again. Once everything was loaded, all the supplies packed up, and cannons hitched, the order was finally given, march south. Finally, the army of reprisal, six thousand picked men led by General Haddock turned towards Vurun, a realm of dreams and sorcery, and went to carve that land a bloody scar.