* * *
A squad healer, name unknown to Ullen, gave his left arm a squeeze to let him know he was done, then moved on the next wounded man. Standing, Ullen spared a glance from then field to see that the man had fashioned a sling to tie the dead meat that was his right arm to his chest. One of Cowl's Veils, a tall slim woman with long white hair, had appeared out of nowhere, slaying guards and staffers, making for him until a saboteur sergeant briefing him, Urfa, had thrown something that burst a spray of razor fragments, some of which had lacerated his arm, slicing tendons and nerves. It left the Veil staggered, slashed in zig-zags of blood, then, and only then did a full Hand appear to jump her. The resulting melee had tumbled away into the night in a frenzy of leaping bodies, thrown blades and tossed Warren magics.
Ullen saw in that same all-encompassing glance that his command staff of relatively green lieutenants and messengers had been profoundly shaken. First time's always the worst. He cleared his throat, drawing their attention from the night. ‘Now we know what a visit from Dancer must have been like, hey?’ and he offered a self-mocking, almost sad smile. The gathered men and women eyed one another; some wiped at their shining sweaty faces. Then: appreciative chuckles and even blown breaths.
A chorus of ‘Yes, sir.’
‘Reports, people! What's going on?’
The Imperial lieutenant brushed at a trail of blood from a slashed cheek. ‘Reports are we're losing ground in the west. Urko is pulling his people to the centre.’
‘I have unconfirmed accounts that the Sword is wounded, possibly fallen,’ added the Dal Hon lieutenant, Gellan.
‘Moranth and other elements remaining in the east are rallying to the redoubt,’ said another. ‘I have also had intelligence from the Claw that Skinner is leading a phalanx north, making for that very strongpoint.’
Gods, what a clash that will he. It could determine the victor. ‘And that darkness gathered there … ?’
‘We have confirmation that it's one of our own cadre mages, apparently,’ came the grudging admission.
Don't count the mongrels out, you son of an aristocratic house. Even though they don't have vaunted titles like High Mage many actually know their trade. ‘Very good. Have all broken elements assemble on the redoubt. Order the skirmishers to concentrate fire on that phalanx – grind them down!’
‘Aye.’
‘What of the Empress?’ a staffer asked. ‘If the Veils have—’
‘Never mind the Empress,’ Ullen replied, angered. ‘She is fighting her battles as we must fight ours.’ And if you think we've been cursed by Veils – you don't want to be anywhere near her.
‘The Empress sends her compliments,’ said a new voice and Ullen turned, surprised – and pleased – to see the scarred figure of Captain Moss. He extended his left hand and they shook, awkwardly. ‘I have been seconded to your staff.’
‘You are most welcome.’
‘She bade me inform you that you have her fullest confidence. She commends your actions as field-commander.’
Ullen's brows rose. Just what the Imperials on his staff needed to hear. Thank you, Moss. He cleared his throat into his left fist again. ‘Very good, Captain.’ He turned to his people. ‘What of the Kanese?’
‘They have attacked but Avowed still hold the bridge,’ said one.
‘How many?’
‘Reports are,’ and the fellow swallowed, his voice failing, ‘… five.’
‘Five? Five Avowed against twenty thousand?’
‘Ah, yes, sir.’
Hood – are you pleased? What a ferocious confrontation! He didn't envy the Kanese the effort it would take to lever the Avowed from that narrow pass. And how many did they face - thirty? Forty? No, don't go there! Avoid the scenarios of despair. At least these are in the open. These can be cut down from afar. ‘The Kanese will break through soon enough,’ he said. ‘We just have to hold on.’
At least a few of his staff mustered the effort to murmur, ‘Yes, sir.’