The Crimson Campaign(The Powder Mage Trilogy)(43)

"That's too long," Adamat said. He rubbed his eyes. Ricard was his only hope of getting the money to pay Colonel Verundish to release Bo. How could he himself possibly come up with that sum in a week?

Well, perhaps Ricard wasn't the only hope.



"You smell like the southbound end of a northbound ass," Gavril said.

Tamas sat and watched his charger nibble on a bit of dry grass beside the road. The column had stopped for a short rest, and he was up near the vanguard.

In the distance Tamas could hear the crack of rifles. Another Kez scouting party close enough to engage. The Kez had been dogging their heels ever since Tamas's meeting with General Beon. Their dragoons stayed close, traveling in groups of ten or twenty, flanking the rear guard and causing whatever mayhem they could.

Tamas was weary of it. He'd set a dozen traps, killed hundreds of Kez dragoons, but his men couldn't even stop to scavenge or they risked finding themselves flanked by more than just a few squads.

Gavril sniffed at the wind, as if to punctuate his previous statement.

Tamas looked down at his uniform. The dark blue didn't show stains badly, but the silver-and-gold trim had seen better days, and the linen shirt beneath the jacket was yellowed from sweat, the cuffs stained dark from powder burns and dirt. A thin crust of dirt covered his face and hands like a second skin, and he didn't dare imagine how his feet might smell once he peeled off his boots.

"I smell fine," he told his brother-in-law.

"First rule of bathing," Gavril said. "If you can't smell yourself anymore, it's time to wash. We're stopped for lunch. The last of the horsemeat is gone, so the least we can do is give the men an hour of rest. Follow that stream back there up a few hundred yards and there's a waterfall. Might give you some privacy."

"Are you going to give me your report?"

"After you bathe."

Tamas examined Gavril for a few moments. He was a different man from the one Tamas had met so many years ago. Jakola of Pensbrook had been a svelte, dashing character with a clean-shaven chin and broad shoulders. Gavril had gained a lot of weight during his time at the Mountainwatch. He carried it well, but Gavril would still be here long after the rest of them had starved to death.

The morbid thought gave Tamas a chuckle.

"I'm serious," Gavril said.

Tamas climbed to his feet. It couldn't be helped. A sudden boyish impulse struck him and he flipped Gavril a rude gesture before heading down the column. Men lay about the road, their uniforms soaked with sweat. No one saluted him. Tamas didn't make an issue of it. A ways down the resting column, two men broke out in a fistfight. Their sergeant broke it up quickly. People were growing hungry again, and tensions would only get higher.

He found the stream where a few dozen soldiers had stripped to nothing, washing themselves in the cold mountain water. Tamas passed them and headed upstream.

The stream cut through a gully, surrounded on either side by steep earthen walls. The trees rose even farther, towering hundreds of feet above him, giving Tamas the slight feeling of claustrophobia.

As the stream cut around a corner, Tamas could hear the rush of falling water. He stopped and examined the top of the gully. This was a horrible place to be. An army could come upon him, and he wouldn't hear it over the sound of the waterfall.

Every stop had pickets out a quarter of a mile. No one would come upon him without warning.

Tamas rounded the bend to find Olem was there already, stripped down to his trousers, standing with his face up against the shower of falling water.

Tamas stepped toward him, and a word of greeting died on his lips.

Vlora stood under the waterfall with Olem. She was completely nude, her uniform discarded with the rest of her gear on the bank of the stream. Olem had his hands in her dark hair, pulling them through the knots and tangles. She said something and Olem laughed, and then she turned toward him. She pushed her body up against Olem's. She opened her mouth, and Olem tilted his head down toward hers.

Her eyes flickered open. She stepped smoothly past Olem and turned her body away from Tamas. Olem said something, then stole a furtive glance at Tamas. He was suddenly washing his own hair vigorously.

"What's wrong?" A hand thumped Tamas's shoulder. "Haven't seen a naked woman before?" Gavril passed Tamas, heading toward the waterfall, already stripping off his shirt.

Tamas's heart leapt, and he said a silent prayer of thanks that he didn't jump two feet in the air. He quickly grew conscious of his voyeurism. He could feel his face growing red, so he strode to the waterfall, stripping off his uniform.

Vlora left the water and gathered her knapsack, dressing quickly. A minute later and Tamas was alone with Gavril and Olem.

"You know," Gavril said to Olem, tossing his uniform on the rocks beside the stream, "you're supposed to take your pants off when you shower."

Olem cleared his throat and gave an uncomfortable laugh. He glanced in the direction Vlora had gone.

Gavril gave a belly-shaking laugh. "That is a good-looking woman. I can see why you left 'em on." He elbowed Olem in the ribs, nearly knocking him over. Olem gave him a lopsided grin. A glance at Tamas and his grin disappeared.

"Vlora was engaged to Taniel," Tamas said. "Up until the beginning of this summer." He stared at Olem. What had he walked in upon? Had this been going on long, or was it a chance thing?

If Gavril noticed the tension, he ignored it. "Not engaged to him anymore, is she?" He shrugged his big shoulders. "Fine-looking woman is a fine-looking woman. Her being unpromised is only a bonus."

"I sometimes forget your …  habits …  with women."

Gavril squared his body to Tamas, unashamed of his nudity. "You also forgot about that string of seventeen-year-old noble daughters trying to bag the most eligible bachelor in the Nine the year after Erika died …  before we went to Kez. How many of those did you bed?"

Tamas had forgotten all about bathing. He clutched his jacket in one hand, jaw clenched. "Watch your mouth, Jakola."

At some point Olem had left the waterfall and gathered his shirt, jacket, and pistol from the ground. He began to slink downstream.

"We're going to have a talk, Olem," Tamas said.

Olem froze. Drops of water hung in his sandy beard.

Gavril's thick finger prodded Tamas in the chest. "You've had your share of women, Tamas. Including my sister. That means I can say what I want."

Tamas looked down at Gavril's finger, seriously considering snapping it off. Who the pit did he think he was, speaking to Tamas like that? If they'd been in public, Tamas would have had no choice but to call him out. As it were, he wanted to punch him in the nose. In a fight, Gavril had the strength and weight. Tamas had the speed, and if he had powder, it was no contest. He could …

He stopped himself. Here he was, deep in Kez territory, pursued by an army four times the size of his, and all he wanted was to feel clean again before the next battle. What was he doing? Gavril wasn't his enemy.
 
 

 

A glance over his shoulder told him Olem had gone.

"You're too much of a hard-ass, Tamas," Gavril said.

Tamas hung his uniform on the protruding root of a tree and stepped under the waterfall. The initial shock struck him to the core. The water was cold as ice, runoff from the mountain peaks towering over them to the east.

"Sweet Kresimir!" He felt his leg stiffen with the cold.

"I've taken colder baths at the Mountainwatch," Gavril said.

Tamas looked downstream, the way Olem had gone. "Vlora was engaged to my Taniel. He could be dead now, for all I know. I'll not have -"

"The engagement was broken off," Gavril cut him off. "You told me so yourself. Let it go. How many times did you fool around behind Erika's back?"

"None," Tamas said. His voice came out colder than the stream.

Gavril made a face like he didn't believe a word of it. He opened his mouth, but Tamas spoke first.

"Question my honor," Tamas said. "Just try it."

"Won't say another word about it."

"Good. Now give me your damned report."

"The Kez have fallen back almost eight miles. Some of your roadblocks have worked, some haven't. The cavalry can't be more than two abreast on these roads, so their own column is miles long. They've got scouts ranging everywhere they can through the woods to try to find shortcuts. I have my rangers keeping an eye out for small companies that try to flank us, but so far our worst enemy is the lack of food."

"How long until we reach the Fingers of Kresimir?" Tamas scrubbed his fingers through his mustache. He needed a shave, badly.

"Six days."

"Good."

"About that, I have bad news."

Tamas sighed. "Just what I was hoping to hear."

"The Kez have sent their cuirassiers around to the west to cut across the plains. That's fifty-five hundred heavy cavalry. What they lose in going around Hune Dora they'll gain by having flat ground. If my guess is right, they'll reach the Fingers right about the time we do.

"Last time I went through the Fingers," Gavril continued, "the forest ended about a mile from the first river. Open, flat plain all the way to the water, then a narrow wooden bridge."

"A perfect place for the Kez to trap us."

"Exactly."

Tamas closed his eyes, trying to see the space in his mind. It had been thirteen years since he last passed through the area. "I need to break the Kez."