Steel And Flame (Book 1) (63 page)

“Victory to us,” Kerwin commented after the remaining
cavalry disappeared into the trees.

“A costly one though,” Marik observed.

“Battles invariably become harder when you aren’t
defending a stronghold,” Landon stated.  “The earlier fight went well because
we had earthworks between us and them, with us on the top and the stakes
pointed their way.”

“They ran straight at the depot though.  They might
have taken it if they had come up with a better attack plan.”

“They did, remember?  With the first assault, they
were hoping to take us in a rush and quickly retreat back to the Reaches.  That
didn’t work, so they came up with a new plan.  Do you think we would have held
against the second strike under normal circumstances?”

Kerwin stated, “They would have been up and over the
mound before we saw them, what with the weather favoring them like that.”

“I suppose you’re the Fourth’s good luck charm after
all, Marik old boy,” Dietrik teased, dropping an arm around his friend’s
shoulders.  “Those superstitious gits have no call to look askance at you any
longer.”

“Until
we
have to attack a fortified position,”
Marik grumbled.

“It’ll happen soon enough, so don’t fret about it too
much.”

*        *        *        *        *

Marik sat atop the northern earthwork examining his
blade.  After an entire spring of fighting, the poor thing needed care beyond a
casual sharpening.  Infinitesimal notches marred both edges as well as
scratches all up and down the flats.  At least its flexibility prevented it
from bending.

“Let me have the stone when you’re done with it.”

“Certainly,” Dietrik acknowledged from his seat
several feet away.  He honed the edges on his main-gauche dagger.  Most Fourth
Uniters were taking advantage of the break to perform needed maintenance. 
Unwilling to stay cramped in their field tents, most opted to find a corner
outside to work.  Unfortunately the camp stayed busy all day long.  The only
place without constant activity lay atop the northern earthwork.  Moving as far
east as possible avoided most of the latrine odors.

Marik worked on his mail while waiting his turn for
Dietrik’s whetstone.  Rust always required incredible effort to remove from the
links, and he set to.

“Damn, they need to start making this stuff out of
good steel!”

“Don’t say that in front of a smith,” Dietrik
advised.  “He’s liable to pass you a hammer and tongs and invite you to try
your hand.”

Nial pointed out, “If we had a barrel we could turn on
a spit, and some sand to throw in there with it, we could toss the mail
inside.  A few minutes rotation would have the job done, no sweat, no toil.”

“Add that to our wishing lists,” Marik grumbled.  “I’m
running out of oil.  Remind me to pull a new bottle from supply before we move
out.”

Hayden spoke from his perch.  “Better do it tonight
then.”

Marik looked northward.  “It’s already late afternoon
but they haven’t arrived.  You figure they got delayed on the road?”

“Who knows?”  Hayden had finished his work first and
lounged comfortably in the slight breeze blowing over the mound’s top.  “How
often have we been attacked by the Noliers so far?”

“About every three or four days I’d say.”

“Then there’s your odds.  One chance in three or four
they got themselves attacked on the road.”

“Does anybody have any idea what all is coming?”

Dietrik shrugged, “More men is all I’ve heard, mate.”

“Fraser said new orders, too,” Nial added.

“Oh?  I hadn’t heard that,” admitted Marik.  “Are we
getting off this damned patrol route?”

“How should I know?  Fraser never goes into
specifics.”

Well into summer, they had ridden patrol between the
Sixth and Seventh Depots nearly every day since spring.  If he added the miles,
Marik knew he could have ridden all the way across Galemar by now, and the next
kingdom as well.  A change of duty would suit him fine.

“Heads up!”

Dietrik tossed the whetstone to Marik, who fumbled it
over the side.  His friends started clapping.  He took the moral high ground,
stifled any comment he might make and began the climb down the mound through
the stake forest.

Of course, the damned thing had tumbled nearly to the
bottom.  The mound’s grade was far from perfectly vertical, yet steep enough to
require concentration.  Sixteen feet down, he stopped four feet from the bottom
with a firm grip on a stake to keep from sliding the rest of the way.  Since
the first battle, Major Enson had ordered the trench dug deeper and wider. 
This time they did not add the dirt to the old earthwork.  Instead they formed
a new mound outside the trench.  Much shorter, the second earthwork’s far slope
could be fired upon from atop the first.  It would make it even tougher to take
the depot.

With the rain that fell every few days, two feet of
muddy water stagnated in the trench.  Marik carefully leaned forward, grabbed
the stone and started clawing his way back to the top.  When he neared he saw
Hayden gazing north, his hand shielding his eyes.

“Looks like they made it after all,” he commented. 
The others rose to see for themselves.  Marik followed their eyes with one foot
propped against a thick stake.

A faint dust cloud rose from the road, a very small
one for such a large detachment.  The road dried fastest after a rain, though
the dust remained slightly heavy.  One lookout rang the bell to signal the
approach.

When they drew nearer, Marik estimated there were
nearly a thousand men, the original size of his own company before the fighting
started.  Under Balfourth, when he cared to leave the depot, they had held off
the Noliers, paying a heavy price in men to achieve it.  Without coherent leadership,
the men fought to their best individually, taking greater losses than they
should have otherwise.

Marik smoothed his sword’s edges with the whetstone
while the company halted outside the depot ramp.  A pair crossed once they were
acknowledged by the guards.  Enson emerged from his office in the building that
served as the main storehouse.  The major accepted a message tube and opened it
where he stood.  He spoke with the pair while he read over the dispatches
before issuing commands.

They returned to their company, which began moving
across the ramp, two at a time.  Quartermasters shifted wagons stored on the
south side to make space.  Horses were taken to their area in the west side,
but despite the loss of so many men and mounts over the spring, it looked like
they would be short of space.

The master handlers must have agreed.  Soon a company
of garrison soldiers exited the depot.  They set a picket and organized a watch
over the herd outside the earthworks.  Marik wondered what good a guard could do
if the Noliers showed up in force again.

“Are we joining with them?”

Dietrik replied, “I suppose so.  I thought we were
going to get new men to replace the fighters we’ve lost to date, but I don’t
believe so now.”

Marik agreed.  “That looks like a strike force.  Maybe
we’re finally going to take care of those cursed Noliers.”

“Could be.  We’ll have to see if the officers have
finally become annoyed enough by the blue boys to act against them, rather than
react.”

“I’m past annoyed.”

“But you aren’t an officer.  You are a frontline man
and your duty is to fight where they tell you to fight and die a glorious
death.”

“And you accuse me of cynicism?”

“It’s the truth as far as I see it, Marik.  Still, I
think the main fighting up north might be going well if they’re concerning
themselves with this petty business down south of them.”

“Petty?  We’ve been fighting for our skins!”

Landon added, “Perhaps we have been, but not as often
I’ll wager.  In the north, the Noliers are fighting to hold the gold strike. 
Down here, it feels like they want to sting us to keep us out of the Reaches.”

“They made a major attack on the depot,” Marik
reminded everyone.  “That’s hardly a sting!”

“But they only made one serious effort there.  They
discovered how deeply dug in we are, and how many men it would take on their
part to rip this place down.”

“If I hadn’t been playing watchdog, they might have
done it with the men they had then!”

“Then they’ve been operating under a misconception. 
All to the good if so, otherwise we might have found ourselves fending off a
horde of Noliers every time we turned around.  Most of the other nearby depots
haven’t been hit very hard either.  That is the power knowledge plays on the
battlefield.  It is worth as much as an entire company if it plays in your
favor.”

Marik had never considered it in quite that light
before.  “Glad to help,” he murmured.

“In any event,” Hayden interrupted, “it looks like we
might be up for more than another trip to the Seventh Depot tomorrow.”

“You almost sound eager.  I thought you hated anything
to do with the border.”

“Even I get tired of walking in my own footsteps every
day.  Fraser’ll tell us tonight what the story is.”

Marik returned to his sharpening and said, “I hope
it’s the kind where the characters survive in the end.”

It turned out the story had been partly predicted by
the others.  Earnell collected everyone in the Ninth once they snatched their
meals from the cooks.  It was a sad sight to see barely sixty men in three
ravaged units gathered under their commanding officer.

“The first piece of news is good,” the lieutenant
informed them.  “Captain Trask is the head of this company and he’s merging the
remnants of ours into his own.  That means, as an officer, Balfourth is under
him in rank.  We’re to report directly to the captain.”

Several men grinned.  No one cheered outright.

“As for what we’re doing, it’s also simple enough to
say.  The Noliers to the north are proving a tougher nut to crack than
anticipated.  Mostly that’s due to the supply lines feeding them food, weapons
and fresh men.  The lines run through the Green Reaches from the Hollister
Bridge across the Tenpencia all the way to the strike.  We’re supposed to cut
that line off.”

“Ourselves?” a Second Unit man asked.  It sounded a
ridiculous notion as they each measured the Ninth’s remains.

“No.  Scouts in the Reaches have identified three
major supply depots and staging areas.  They’re spread out further than ours,
so each third of the army forces is sending a company to attack one.  We get to
take the one in the center.”

Marik felt the need to speak.  “And how are we
supposed to get there?  The Reaches is crawling with Noliers.  They aren’t
about to stand aside and let us trot on through.”

“Major Enson and the other depot commanders are going
to send out teams to raise a ruckus and draw attention along the edges of the
forest.  We want to take the depot by surprise, but it’s likely we’ll have to
fight our way there.  Everyone draw what you need from the supply warehouses
before we go.  We’re setting out at dawn.”

The lieutenant left his men alone with their food. 
Marik thought he would kill for one of Luiez’s meals while he studied the bowl
of muck he had eaten every day for months.  He said as much to Dietrik, who
asked, “Including those rotten noodles?”

“No, I guess I’m not that desperate yet.”  He made a
face.  “I still don’t understand how it can be so awful.  The other dishes he
makes with the noodles taste good.”

“It might be one of those mysteries best left
unsolved.”

“You think there might be a chance to get fresh meat
in the forest?”

“We’re going to be running and hiding from the gods
know how many Nolier soldiers lusting after that pretty head of yours, and you
want to go hunting?”

“As long as it’s a good opportunity.  I’m sick to
death of this slop.”

Dietrik sighed, casting a despairing glare at his own
bowl.  “Yes, I as well.  Go ask Kerwin on the odds.  He’s hasn’t been able to
get a good wager going for eightdays.”

*        *        *        *        *

Marik rode partner to Kenley today.  The young man had
been subdued since Knox died.  Much of the youthful exuberance had vanished
from the boy, as Marik still thought of him, despite the fact he only claimed a
year’s seniority in age.  He felt older than his years, as though his time as a
mercenary had toughened his inner self to match the toughness outside.  The
aftereffects from the hedge-wizard’s attack left him looking older, with his
leathery skin and faint residual scars.

Riding north from the Sixth Depot already departed
from the normal routine they had performed throughout the spring.  Tomorrow
they would breach the Green Reaches, heading deep into enemy territory.  Trees
and shrubs would slow their pace, but they should reach their target in a day
if all went well.