The road from Krestovik to Orkon snaked its way through the cold, starless night, and Captain Yendik, officer in His Majesties 17th Demiri Regiment, cursed the moment for the thousandth time when he lost his fine ermine gloves to Lieutenant Zulfitar.

“The bastard did not even need them,” he complained to Lieutenant Melgarin and to the captain of the sappers, whose name he forgot. “He is still back in Krestovik, sits all day in a heated room, and eats liver cream with oven-warm bread. Meanwhile, here am I, freezing in the night, slogging through the mire without a campfire in sight, and I don’t even have my gloves to boot!”

The sapper shrugged. Melgarin answered for both of them.

“The vizier wants us to gain the bridge at Orkon before the enemy does, sir,” the lieutenant said apologetically. “You know how it goes, sir – the vizier commands, we obey.”

“Oh, our enemy! The famed Blue Demon of the Selvoren Marches,” Yendik spat out with contempt. “He was not so spry last year! We took the largest fort in the whole of Ekvinark, and this Zinaç was nowhere to be seen. Now that our main force is hundred miles away, suddenly he gets bold.”

The sapper shrugged again. The man was starting to get on Yendik’s nerves.

“You seem to have something in mind, my esteemed colleague. Pray, share your wisdom with us!”

The captain shrugged for a third time. Then, he seemed to reconsider it and finally spoke. His voice was hoarse. No wonder if he speaks so little, Yendik thought.

“Zinaç stayed in the South last year to protect his own lands.”

An admirably long sentence. This Captain Whatshisname isn’t mute, after all. Unfortunately for everyone involved, because thinking does not seem to be his forte. “And we went to the North to besiege Kalondar, didn’t we? My point stands. The man is a coward. I don’t know why His Majesty’s soldiers seem to hold this man in such a high regard around these parts. I fought the enemies of the Commonwealth in Saljuk, Thindoran and in Erenis before I was transferred to this godforsaken swampland, and I can assure you that those were worthy enemies. Saljukian generals offered us battle after battle. The Thindorians were tough soldiers, who always fought to the last man. And those bastards in Erenis were the worst of all, even their women fought with them. This Zinaç and his famed Selvorens on the other hand are naught but hot air. I hear thousand tales of his ambushes, but the man does not seem to have fought a single battle in his life. Now we march against him again, and he will just disappear in the marsh like some cowardly toad. Blue Demon! What a farce!”

Lieutenant Melgarin nervously looked around and licked his chapped lips.

“Sir,” he said pleadingly, “it is no good thing to say his name this many times. It brings ill-luck.”

What a superstitious fool, thought Yendik with contempt. He did not voice his resentment though – Melgarin was an efficient Lieutenant and ran a tight company. Antagonising him would have only made Yendik’s job needlessly hard. God knows, my life is hard enough already. By the Seven Fates, how I hate this cold, damp land!

This time, it was Captain Nameless, who broke the silence.

“Zinaç did fight a small battle last year. The vizier of Berezla lost about thousand Cazurians against him when he tried to cross the river Arum.”

“That was hardly a battle,” Yendik spat out. “The Cazurians are rabble. You point one cannon at them, and they flee. Seems to be a tradition around here. That famed Ekvinark cavalry came into panic last year after we fired a single salvo at them.”

The sapper shrugged again, considering the topic done from his part. No, you bastard, you won’t get rid of me so easy.

“So, tell met then! What is this famed Blue Demon is going to do to us? What happens if we don’t gain the bridge before them?”

The man only answered with his indispensable shrug. Lieutenant Melgarin on the other hand felt himself spoken to.

“It is not about what the Selvorens can do to us, but we can do to them, sir. They are in our territory, sir, good ten miles from their home turf. It is the perfect opportunity to lay a trap, sir. The road twist and turns, and with all the alder and reed growing around these parts, no one can see ahead. We set up a barricade after a turn, put a few companies along the road to lay in wait, and then we attack the Selvoren column when they show up.”

“They will have scouts,” said Yendik sceptically.

“That’s where the Cazurians come into the picture, sir. They are no good against cannons, you are right in that, sir, but they are perfect for screening. Even in the summer, they can chance going into the marshes on their light horses. Now, when it’s all frozen over, they are not road bound at all.”

“Let us say the Cazurians keep the Selvoren scouts away, and we set up the trap. The Selvorens will see us crouching beside the road at once.”

“Not if they arrive in the dark, sir. The days are short this time of the year, so Selvorens march after sunset as well, just like us, sir. We will be well away from the road, among the trees, dug into the snow, and we will attack them when the head of their column hits our barricades.”

“Lieutenant, this is getting more and more unbelievable. If we dig ourselves into the snow, we will freeze to death before Zinaç show up.”

“No sir! There is a trick to it, sir. You see sir, if the entrance of a snow cave is downwards, it actually protects you from the wind and keeps you warm. Sir.”

“Have you done this before Lieutenant? Dug yourself into the snow?”

“No, not me sir. This will be the first time I will do that sir. But hunters do that sometimes. You can ask Captain Ayda here sir, he knows all about it, sir.”

Ayda, that is the bastard’s name! I will do my best to forget it again. Yendik turned to the sapper.

“Well, Captain Ayda, is that true? Do you know all about hunting in the snow?” And don’t you dare answer me with a shrug, you bugger!

To Yendik’s surprise the man did not shrug but looked thoughtful.

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“I did hunt in the snow before,” he said finally.

“And how did you prevent the snow soaking your priming powder and slow match?” asked Yendik triumphantly.

Captain Ayda shrugged. Just when Yendik felt ready to strangle the taciturn sapper, he added: “I hunt with a crossbow.”

“Well, we hunt with muskets on this occasion, so the vizier can hardly expect us to burrow into the snow. Speaking of muskets, Lieutenant, I see that only ten in one burns the slow match. If I am not mistaken, we are almost at the Orkon bridge. While I doubt this famed Blue Demon of yours will be here to greet us, you and the esteemed vizier do expect him to show up today or tomorrow. Therefore, you will have every soldier in the company prime their weapon and light their slow match for the duration of the crossing.”

“I’d rather meet the enemy tomorrow, but you are right, sir. One can never be too careful, even if we are in the rearguard.”

While Lieutenant Melgarin hurried forward along the column to instruct the men, Yendik turned to Captain Ayda again.

“I trust you will instruct your men likewise. If these Selvorens are truly as daring as all of you seem to believe, it is not inconceivable that we will have to fight tonight.”

Was that a smile that touched the man’s lips, or was it merely a play of the shadows? Does the man wish to make fun of me? This will not stand!

“Well, colleague?”

“You are right, Captain Yendik. I will have my men light their tindersticks.”

“Tindersticks? Who are you, my grandfather? Everyone uses slow match nowadays.”

“Tindersticks burn hotter. Lower chance of misfire, you see. As lovely as it was to chat with you, I will walk back now, order my men to prime weapons, and see what has become of our wagons. Good night to you, Captain Yendik.”

Without waiting for an answer, the sapper turned around and started giving orders to his men in a silent voice. They do not speak Tharven with each other? These sappers are getting stranger by the moment. What are they even doing in the rearguard? I never asked that captain, but are they not supposed to be in the vanguard normally?

Yendik felt cold creeping up his spine, and not because of the wind. I am seeing ghosts. By the Seven Fates, these fools infected me with their superstitions. He shook his head, and he walked forward, to inspect his men, who slowed down to load and prime their weapon.

“Form up, boys, form up!” he urged them. “Keep the distance even! If the vizier rides back to inspect his rearguard, I want him to see a straight column, not this oxen piss!”

The men dutifully chuckled. Yendik checked burning slow matches, pans full of priming powder, and nodded every time. These are good soldiers. Whatever their faults, Lieutenant Melgarin and my predecessor built a crack company out of them. May God give me the opportunity to lead them in a proper battle! I will be a major in…

His thought was cleaved in twain by a series of explosions, cries of men, screams of horses.

What the…

A hail of metal tore into the Tharven column from both sides of the road. A man beside Yendik fell with a painful cry, a musket ball whizzed past Yendik’s ear, so close he could feel the bullet’s wind.

He stared into the darkness, unbelieving. How? Suddenly, new muzzle flashes stabbed into the darkness, but he could still not see the faint glim of slow match. Then he understood. The bastards are using flintlocks!

With that thought, his momentary paralysis lifted, and the instincts of a Tharven officer under fire took over.

“Put out the torches! Quickly! Out the torches and form up!” He bellowed. “Two ranks, back to each other, middle of the road! Form up! Hold your fire!” The men were tired and dazed, but they quickly grasped his intentions and responded with the fluid discipline characteristic of the Demiri soldiers. Yendik felt pride swelling in him to be the leader of this crack company.

“Sir!” It was Lieutenant Melgarin, running along the column, a bullet intended for his brain tearing the hat from his head.

“Your Cazurians did not screen us too well, after all, Lieutenant.”

“I am afraid not, sir.”

“But you were right about Zinaç.”

“I am afraid so, sir.”

“How is it looking up in the column?”

“Not well, sir. The cavalry was hit by canister, it’s pure chaos.”

“All right then. Trumpeter!”

“He fell, sir!” A soldier reported nearby and pointed to a body lying on the roadside.

Yendik dashed to the body without thinking, a move his unseen enemies rewarded with three shots. He felt lead tearing into his side, followed by the gushing of blood, but the shot did not knock him over, and he already knelt behind the body. Only then, did he see that the trumpeter still lived, his chest rose and fell, and his eyes stared at him pleadingly. He grunted, took the soldiers arms, lifted him on his back, and run back to the forming line in the middle of the road. Melgarin, already anticipating his order, took the trumpet from the wounded signalman’s neck.

“Give the sound to retire, Lieutenant.”

Melgarin blew the horn. Once he finished, Yendik shouted “Fire!” and the hastily formed line in the middle of the road was covered in smoke at once.

“We are at a disadvantage, it seems,” hissed Yendik, as he tried to stem the bleeding in his side with a handkerchief. “The well-equipped bastards have flintlocks. We can see the muzzle flash, but not much else, while they can aim at the light our slow match gives off. We will fire once more, to have some more smoke, then we make a run for it. The other companies can follow us or die here at their leisure.”

“An excellent plan sir. May I ask, what has become of our sappers, sir?”

Yendik glanced towards where Captain Ayda and his men were supposed to be, and he saw a chasm of darkness widening between him, and the small dots of red light that he supposed were the tindersticks of the sappers. One of the dots disappeared as he watched. That’s where the road turns, I remember.

“They got away, it seems. Let’s do our best to join them. Ready!” he bellowed. Most soldiers he could see were still hastily reloading, but some raised their weapons at his command. He waited five heartbeats to give time for the stragglers, then he shouted again: “Fire!” The Tharven muskets spat lead and smoke at the night.

“Follow me! Carry our wounded!” shouted Yendik, unsheathing his sword, and started after the sappers. Lieutenant Melgarin started blowing the trumpet again behind him, but a musket ball whizzed, and the trumpet stopped. Yendik turned, dragged the man up.

“Lung,” the Lieutenant whispered with a bloody smile. “Save the others.”

“I don’t think so, Lieutenant,” Yendik said, as he put the man’s arm around his shoulders, and dragged him forward. By the Seven Fates, his side hurt! But at least the bleeding started to abate.

Hooves thudded, and a few cavalrymen thundered past them. Can’t say I missed you, lazy bastards. At least you did not trample any of my men.

Some of his men already overtook him, calmly reloading their weapons while walking. Without any orders on his part, his men still fired into the night sporadically, not to hurt the enemy they still didn’t see, but to shroud the retreat in smoke. Maybe it would have been better to put out the slow matches altogether, Yendik mused. The Selvorens could hardly see us then in this starless, moonless night. But we also couldn’t fight back.

A salvo cracked ahead of him, and one of the horses that ran past them a minute ago now galloped back towards the head of the column, dragging its dead rider hanging from the stirrup.

There are blocking troops, it seems. How did the the sappers get past them? Maybe the enemy blocked the road after the sappers got away. Or maybe… No, that is impassible.

“Form up, boys! There are blocking troops after the turn on the road. We will give one salvo, then charge at them. You, son, take the Lieutenant from me.”

“He is dead, sir,” said the soldier.

Yendik gently laid the body on the road. He checked for heartbeat, then closed the Lieutenant’s eyes.

“So he is, son, so he is. Form up then. Anyone got a torch?”

“I have two, sir, but you told us to put them out.”

“Well, light them up, soldier. We should throw a few at the feet of the enemy, so we can aim at them. Once you are past the turn of the road, you throw your torch, you fire, you charge. Easy enough, right? We chase the bastards away from our road, then we make away with our wounded. Understood?”

“Yes, sir!” the soldiers answered. There was nothing more to be said. Yendik rushed forward, turned with the road and threw the lit torch. Muskets cracked, and he felt the force of the shots throwing him on the ground. Once he came about, he lay in a puddle of melting snow and freezing blood. In the light of the torches, he could well see the makeshift barricade on the road, built by the characteristic proficiency of Tharven sappers. Captain Ayda and his soldiers manned the barricade, and they were massacring the remainder of Yendik’s company with merciless efficiency.

“Ayda,” he whispered. “You treasonous son of a bitch.”

Those were his last words.