The Infernal Battalion (The Shadow Campaigns #5)

“He’d have to cross the river once he got here,” Raesinia said. She grinned at Marcus. “I haven’t entirely forgotten your strategy lessons.”

“Exactly,” Marcus said. “The Marak is wide enough to be a serious obstacle, and the Vor is even bigger. There are only a few bridges north of the city, and none to the south before Ohms. And he has to know by now that we have a Borelgai fleet backing us. Even if we can’t get the men-of-war up the Marak, the frigates would make short work of a small-?boat attack. Without his own fleet, he’d have to try to outmarch us in search of a crossing, and risk our striking at the pass to cut him off.”

“Splitting his army would be inviting an attack,” Winter said. “So he’s coming down the east bank?”

“For the most part,” Marcus said. “There’s some cavalry on the west side, watching the crossings to make sure we don’t slip around to his rear. But the bulk of his forces are coming due south, between the Marak and the Vor. From scouting reports, our best guess is that he has the equivalent of seven divisions, a bit more than sixty thousand men.”

“And we have?” Sothe asked, in the ensuing silence.

This was what had been keeping Marcus up late at night, going over strength reports and recruiting estimates. At least, it was what was keeping me up before Winter got back. “We got out of Alves with two divisions, the First and the Second, plus fragments of other units that escaped the battle. Between depot battalions, garrisons from the south, and fresh recruits, we’ve got enough bodies to fill one more. With the cavalry reserve, that gives us about thirty thousand bayonets and sabers.”

“Meaning we’re outnumbered two to one,” Raesinia said. “I’m not a military expert, but that sounds bad.”

“What about civilian volunteers?” Sothe said. “That worked in the revolution.”

“We’ll use whatever we can,” Marcus said. “But I’m skeptical they’ll be much good against a seasoned army. In the revolution, our skirmishers caught the loyalists off guard, but Janus won’t make the same mistake.”

“We don’t need to defeat Janus,” Winter said. “If I can get to the Beast, that army should fall apart. And if I can’t, then none of this will matter.”

“You’re going to need time to find the core,” Marcus said. “It’s no good if we’re swept off the field at the first charge, which is what would happen if we just deployed in the open and waited for him.”

“It sounds like you have an idea,” Raesinia said, toying nervously with one of the red-?painted counters.

“I see two possibilities, but I don’t like either of them.” Marcus took a deep breath. “The first is that we abandon Ohnlei and fall back to the city itself. Fortify as much as we can, fight house to house. Blow up the bridges to the island, when Janus gets that far.”

There was a shocked silence. The ancient bridges of Vordan City were more than just a means of getting across the river—?they were cultural artifacts, tying the kingdom to its ancient origins. Suggesting their demolition in the name of military expediency was close to sacrilege, especially since they were named for the holiest saints.

“We can’t stop them,” Marcus said after a moment. “Maybe if Vordan City had a proper wall, but it doesn’t. But we can slow them down and make them pay in blood for every street. And it will certainly buy Winter the time she needs.”

“No,” Raesinia said. Her hand gripped the edge of the table, hard enough that her knuckles stood out in stark white.

“I know it seems cruel,” Sothe said. “But if we win—”

“What’s the good in winning if the city is rubble by the time we’re finished?” Raesinia said. “We can’t bring the war into the streets. Vordan City had enough of that during the revolution. I’d rather abdicate.”

“The alternative isn’t abdication,” Sothe said. “It’s losing all of humanity to the Beast.”

“The queen is right,” Winter said. “We can’t have the battle in the city if we can possibly avoid it.”

“What’s the other alternative?” Raesinia said.

“It’s riskier,” Marcus said. “We deploy the army north of Ohnlei, close to the Marak, and dig in as much as we can. Janus won’t be able to slip around our left, because of the river, and if he tries to go wide around our right we can pounce on his rear. He’ll have no choice but to attack us. If we choose our position carefully, we might be able to hold out until nightfall, or until Winter succeeds.”

“That seems logical enough,” Winter said. “Why do you say it’s risky?”

“Because Janus is Janus,” Marcus said, with a bitter laugh. “General Kurot thought he had him locked in a trap, and look what happened to him. He could do a hundred things I haven’t thought of and we’d be in no position to stop him. Once we pick our ground, we’re committed—?we can’t maneuver without losing the advantage of our fortifications.” He scratched his beard. “The only reason I even suggest it is because of the way he fought in the Pale valley.”

“What way was that?” Sothe said.

“Carelessly,” Marcus said. “As though the lives of his troops meant nothing to him. Whenever I served under Janus, he never spent blood recklessly, but now...” He shrugged. “If all he’s concerned with is speed, he’ll come at us head-on. Then we’ll have our battle. If not, then we may end up like Kurot.”

Raesinia took a deep breath, her face hardening.

“I think it’s our best option,” she said. “How long do we have?”

“Five days, at the minimum,” Marcus said. “Longer, if Janus goes easy on his men, but when has he ever done that?”

“And have you picked out your site?”

“I think so,” Marcus said. “I need to go and look it over personally.”

Raesinia glanced at Winter, who nodded.

“All right,” Raesinia said. “Then this is where we stop the Beast.”





28



Winter


Ennika held Winter’s arm as they descended the steps into the palace basement, Alex and Abraham following behind. It was cool down there, a steady breeze blowing up from the dark, underground corridors. There were springs under Ohnlei, and their chilly waters were channeled through the walls to wine cellars and meat storage. The ubiquitous braziers were absent, and Winter carried a candelabra in her hand.

At the bottom of the stairs, a young man in a gray robe waited in front of a curtained doorway. He bowed at Winter’s approach. She recognized him, distantly, as one of the students Feor had taken on when she’d been commissioned by the queen to study the Thousand Names. The lack of familiarity brought home just how long it had been since Winter had seen the Khandarai priestess. She probably feels like I abandoned her here.

“General Ihernglass,” the young man said. “My name is Justin de Horat. The mistress is expecting you.”

Winter nodded. “Is there somewhere Ennika could rest while we talk?”

Django Wexler's books