Powder smoke rose in the air, and charred corpses littered the earthworks. Groans and cries for mercy rose from the wounded. Men farther down the line had stopped their fighting to stare at Taniel. He took a step toward them, going to help hold the earthworks at the next spot, when he realized he couldn't see an infantryman in a blue jacket on his feet anywhere.
It was just a sea of sandy uniforms. The Kez had taken the earthworks.
The boy was still alive and coughing blood. Taniel slung his rifle over his shoulder and grasped the young soldier under the arms, pulling him backward toward the Adran camp.
It was a long haul, half carrying the boy over a hundred paces to the next set of earthworks. Most of the Kez ignored him. A few potshots skipped off the dirt nearby, but the Kez were too busy securing the new ground. They'd level the earthworks and move back to their own camp, where they'd push their artillery forward another hundred paces and prepare for tomorrow's charge.
Exhausted, his head still buzzing from the powder trance, Taniel reached the Adran army. "See to him," Taniel said when a surgeon came running. The surgeon balked and her eyes were wide.
"He's dead, sir."
"Just bloody see to him! Make him comfortable!"
"No, sir. He's not just dying. He's dead already."
Taniel dropped to his knee beside the young soldier and put his fingers on the lad's throat. No pulse. He used the same two fingers to close the young soldier's eyes.
"Damn it," he said.
The surgeon got on her knees next to him.
"I'm fine!" He pushed away her fingers.
"Your arm, sir."
Taniel looked down. His uniform had been torn through, leaving a bloody, jagged cut along his left arm. He'd not even felt it.
"Surgeon," a voice said, "tend to someone who's worth it." Major Doravir stalked toward them, her brown hair wild and her cheeks black with powder burns. Her jacket was gone, her white shirt stained with sweat and blood.
Taniel got to his feet. "Major Doravir," he said. "Didn't have the decency to die with your men, eh?"
Her backhand jerked his head to the side. He touched his cheek. That had been hard enough to rattle his teeth. "Do that again and I'll break your hand."
"I was the last one away from the front on the retreat," Major Doravir snarled.
"No," Taniel said. "I was. We could have held that bulwark. Instead we lost ground and who knows how many hundred men."
"I obey orders. You don't. No more warnings, Captain. I'll see you hanged." The major spun on her heel and marched off, shouting for the provosts.
Taniel rubbed at his chin and caught Ka-poel watching him from a distance. She headed toward the battlefield, where Kez soldiers were leveling the earthworks and civilians from both sides were already collecting the dead and wounded.
"Where the pit are you going?" Taniel shouted.
She pointed toward the battlefield and held up a doll. Damned girl. That wouldn't work like it did on Kresim Kurga. There were too many enemies here, and not enough dolls.
Taniel glanced toward Major Doravir. She was speaking to two soldiers with the insignia of Adran provosts on their shoulders. Military police. Doravir pointed to Taniel.
He decided it was a good time to make himself scarce.
CHAPTER
13
Tamas climbed out of his tent and finished buttoning up the front of his uniform. He adjusted the gold epaulets on his shoulders and he wondered if they'd have rain that day. The sky over the Adran Mountains to the east had just barely taken on a light halo, while the rest of the world slept on in darkness.
Tamas gazed at that slight brightening and wondered how things went on the other side of the mountains. Budwiel had fallen. The Kez were no doubt pushing their way up Surkov's Alley. Tamas hoped that his generals could handle the defense. He grimaced to himself. With Budwiel gone, the fight could only go in Kez's favor. His men needed him. His country needed him. His son needed him. He had to get across these damned mountains.
He could hear rustling in the camp, and the low whistles of sergeants as they kicked their men from their beds. The smell of smoke came from cookfires that no doubt had little over them.
Olem sat beside Tamas's tent. His forage cap was pulled over his eyes, his legs propped on a log in front of him, and his hands thrust deep in his pockets. The pose was an affected one. Olem's Knack eliminated the need for sleep.
"Quiet night?" Tamas asked, squatting beside the small, smoldering fire and rubbing his hands together. The heat of the summer didn't touch the early morning, not in foothills like this. He poked the coals with a twig, then tossed in the twig. No more than ash. There wasn't much to burn on the high steppe.
"Little bit of rustling, sir. Some grumbling, too." Olem sniffed as if the grumbling were no more than an annoyance.
His men were hungry. Tamas knew it, and it pained him.
"I put a stop to it, sir," Olem said.
"Good."
Tamas heard soft footfalls on the dirt. Olem shifted, and his hand emerged just a little from his coat. He had a pistol.
A carcass thumped to the ground beside Tamas. He started.
"Elk, sir," Vlora said as she squatted down next to him.
Tamas felt a little spell of relief. Meat.
"Any more?" he asked, his voice a little too hopeful.
"Andriya bagged one, too. He's portioning it out to the powder mages. This one's for the officers."
Tamas chewed on the inside of his lip. "Olem. Have it butchered and distributed to the men. A small, raw piece for each. Let them cook it themselves. We break camp in two hours."
Olem climbed to his feet and stretched. He returned his pistol to his belt and headed off, calling a few names.
"We'll reach Hune Dora tomorrow by midday, sir," Vlora said. Her shoulders were stained with blood from the elk. She had to have been burning a powder trance, otherwise there was no way a girl of her size could have carried an entire elk over her shoulders.
"How far?"
"About sixteen miles. Went up that way while hunting."
"And?"
"A small town, just like Gavril said."
"Walled?"
"The wall is an old ruin. Eight feet high, maybe. I wouldn't worry about it, though, sir. The city looks abandoned."
Abandoned? Tamas had hoped there would be some population, just so he could loot their stores of powder and food.
"Anything else up that direction?
"The terrain turns steep. The road seems to follow the contours of the mountain ridges. Lots of bridges, from what I could see. Once we're in the forest, the dragoons will have a hard time encircling us."
"As I'd hoped."
"The bad news is, the road narrows considerably. We'll be able to march maybe just three or four men abreast."
That would require Tamas's column to extend to almost four miles long. Not conducive to an army being dogged by dragoons. Tamas swore under his breath.
He watched the sky for a moment. There wouldn't be rain today, he decided.
"I lied, before," Tamas said.
Vlora frowned at the embers of the fire. "Sir?"
"Back in Budwiel you asked me if there was any news about Taniel. I lied."
Vlora opened her mouth, but Tamas went on before she could say anything.
"A few days before we went through the caves, I received a message from Adopest. Taniel's savage was awake."
"And Taniel?"
"Nothing. But if one of them can come out of it, presumably the other. And I wouldn't think that little savage girl is stronger than my boy. He'll … " He heard his voice crack. "He'll make it."
He examined Vlora out of the corner of his eye. He thought he saw a tear on her face.
"How is your leg, sir?" she asked.
Tamas looked down at his leg. Mihali had healed it. He could walk. He could ride. Pit, he could dance if he wanted to. But deep inside the calf, it still hurt. The pain throbbed, right where they'd taken that blasted star of gold out of his flesh. Despite the healing powers of a god, there was still something wrong with it.
"It's fine," he said. "Good as new."
"You still walk with a limp," Vlora said.
"Do I? Just habit."
Vlora leaned back on her haunches. "I've heard that healed tissue has a problem readjusting itself. It needs help. Plenty of exercise and massage. If you'd like … "
"I don't think I need the gossip that would come out of you rubbing my leg," Tamas said. He chuckled, and was relieved when Vlora laughed as well.
"I was going to say have Olem do it, sir."
"I'm sure I'll be fine." Tamas watched Vlora a little longer. She glanced up at him, then back at the fire. She still wouldn't meet his eyes.
He found he missed their old familiarity. If things had gone better, she might be his daughter-in-law by now. Back before she went off to the university, she'd been the one soldier with the gall to call him Tamas. She'd hung on his arm, even hugged him in public.
Before she slept with that fop in Jileman and Taniel broke off their engagement.
Tamas climbed to his feet. "I want you and Andriya to keep on hunting. We need as much meat as we can get."
"We're going to run out of powder eventually, sir," she said.
"Get some from the Seventh's quartermaster."
"I meant the whole army."
Tamas drummed his fingers on his belt. An army on the march, without resupply or even wagons and camp followers. They would run out of everything. Sooner, rather than later. Their only advantage was a swift march, and that was lost with having to forage and the exhaustion brought on by hunger.