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[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] "They're brave warriors nevertheless. For heaven's sake, we broke them. Besides," Andrew added hurriedly, "we need to save our ammunition." Looking to the west, Andrew was relieved to see that in another hour darkness would come. So far the Tugars had shown no desire for night action. He'd wait a couple of hours, disengage, and pull back to Tier to slow them again tomorrow. Maddened with rage, Qubata rode across the corpse-strewn field. Five days they had been stopped at the ford. For five days more each day had been the same. In the morning the humans would be gone. Formations would be pulled in, scouts sent up, and then yet another village would be in their path, with heavy woods anchoring their right flank, and the river with its damn gunboat the left. At least we've learned what their wheeled weapons can do, he thought grimly. From four hundred paces away he had nearly been killed, the warrior next to him decapitated by a shot from one of their weapons. Charging straight in on them was madness. Twice Tula had been sent out in the afternoon to flank wide. Waiting through the night, he'd swept in at morning light only to find that the enemy were gone. Whoever this human was, he was good, Qubata thought grimly. He wished that the man could be taken alive, for surely he would be a pet worth speaking to; perhaps he could even be trained to serve. If not alive, he hoped that at least he could eat of the man's brain and heart. Qubata turned in his saddle and stared grimly at Alem. Page 179 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html "Shaman, I care not if the night spirits are pleased, displeased, or screaming with rage. I want this army moved tonight." Alem shook his head grimly. "Tugars do not ride or fight at night. It causes a curse." "Then tell your prattle-spouting underlings that you've talked to the sky and they have given a pledge not to curse us." The priest crossed his long shaggy arms and sat silent. "Listen, shaman. You know and I know that your powers are a hoax. Old customs work when all observe them, for when Tugar fought Merki, or Uzba, or any of the tribes of the people, he wanted it done in the light, so all could see his prowess of arms. "But we are fighting men who do not care for glory. I will not waste my warriors again like this," and he pointed to the hundreds of bodies that lay about, ghostlike beneath the pale glow of the twin moons overhead. "The humans pull back, and are ready. Even now I can promise you that across that field," and he pointed southward, "they are pulling back. Tomorrow morning they will be at the next village, and then beyond that we will have to force our way through the twin passes. If they are allowed to group there we'll pay by the thousands to force our way through." "He's right," Muzta said riding up to Alem's side. "I will follow Qubata's advice, with or without your agreement, and I should remind you," the Qar Qarth said, drawing closer, "that I prefer my warriors to fight without some superstitious dread that is utter foolishness." "Must I remind my Qar Qarth that it is unwise to tempt the spirits," Tula said evenly, his shadowy form barely visible in the moonlight. "I know, Tula," Muzta snapped back, "and if we lose, then you will have yet another excuse to find blame with me. As keeper of the left, you will lead the flank march tonight, but by the spirits of my fathers, you'd better ride hard," Muzta said coldly. "When last I fought here," Qubata said, looking over at Tula, "there was a road going up into the hills above the first pass that I told you about. It must lead somewhere. "I'm leading this attack myself, just to make sure," Qubata continued, looking over at Tula with disdain. "I know that terrain. It's just a question of turning their position and perhaps we can still destroy them in the field." Tula growled darkly and stalked away while Alem looked at the group gathered around him. This final insult he would remember, and if indeed the cattle should somehow stop them, he knew quite clearly now where he could lay the blame. "I shall tell my people," Alem said coldly. "We move at once," Qubata roared, "before the sun sets I want the walls of Suzdal in sight!" Chapter 17 He felt tight, nervous, as if an inner sense were warning him of some lurking danger. Unable to snatch a brief moment of sleep, Hawthorne came to his feet. Damn, it was starting to rain. So now he had taken to cursing as well. Cursing, killing, even knowing his wife before they had been rightfully married what had become of him, Hawthorne wondered sadly. The campfire had simmered down, now hissing as the light cold drizzle drifted down, blanketing the exhausted army in a gradually rising mist. There was a dull brightening to the east. Dawn would be coming soon. "So my captain cannot sleep?" Hawthorne went over to the fire and squatted down while Dimitri, who had so obviously lied about his age to join, poured a hot cup of tea into a cup and handed it to his commander. "Something doesn't feel right, Dimitri," Hawthorne said quietly. Dimitri looked at Hawthorne, stroking his gray beard, his old weather-creased face breaking into a smile. Page 180 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html "That is why I like you so much and will listen to you, my captain. I hear others talk. Their Yankee captains always say everything will be fine. You do not play such games as if we were children. "And yes," Dimitri said quietly, "something feels hot right. I know Tugars. They are not foolish folk. Five days we have slipped away at night. Tonight is the sixth. I fear tonight they are following close behind." "Get the rest of the company up. I want all the men on picket line," Hawthorne said quietly. "I'm going back to see our colonel." Tripping through the underbrush, Hawthorne finally saw the low flickering of a fire and came into the circle of light. Rossignol, who only short months before had been a sergeant, was resting against a tree, sipping a cup of tea. Hawthorne came up and saluted. "Sir, it might sound funny, but something doesn't feel right. I've ordered my entire company to stand to arms for the rest of the night." Vince Rossignol nodded wearily and came to his feet. "Word just came up from Hans. He's feeling the same way. We're letting the men sleep till dawn, then pulling back to the pass at first light." Rossignol looked up at the sky, which was now covered by dark, lowering clouds. "Damn rain if it starts closing in, these flintlocks will be useless. I wish the hell I had " "Tugars!" Hawthorne whirled about. There was the dull report of a musket, another round snapped off, and then the nerve-tearing high ululating roar of the Tugars, so similar to the rebel yell, thundered up around them. "Jesus Christ!" Rossignol cried, and then staggered backward, a look of disbelief on his face. His hands grasped feebly at the shaft buried in his chest, and then as if his legs had turned to sacks of water, he sank down and was still. "Captain!" Instinctively Hawthorne ducked. He heard the slash of steel whisk over his head, and then a thunderous howl of pain. Looking up, he saw a Tugar towering above him, sword in hand, stepping jerkily, and then crashing down. Dimitri stood over the form, his bayonet still jabbed into the Tugar's back. Another form came crashing out of the woods. Dimitri stepped low and lunged in hard, catching the creature in the stomach, sending him sprawling. "Captain, do something!" Dimitri roared. Dammit, Rossignol wasn't supposed to die! Johnson, the second in command, and May of Company A had both been wounded and sent back. He was the only Yankee left in the entire regiment who could command. Dimitri stepped back and looked at Hawthorne. Wild shouts rose up around him, the woods seemingly exploding with struggling forms, the war cries of the Tugars mingling with the steady screams of fear and panic at the surprise. "Son, do something, anything," Dimitri said quietly, grabbing hold of [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] |