“This is his point of vulnerability, gentlemen. He hopes that we will charge ahead, taking the bait, and attack him head-on. Instead we will strike here. Part of our force will proceed to Alves, appearing to fall into the trap. When he springs it, our main force will fall on one of his flanking columns and destroy it, while our detached force makes a fighting retreat. We will seize this bridge and block his line of supply, and then he will be forced to engage us on our terms or starve.”
It looked very neat, the blue soldiers slipping in behind the oblivious reds. Marcus was reminded of diagrams from his textbooks at the War College, which was undoubtedly what Kurot had in mind. He glanced surreptitiously at his fellow officers. Fitz’ face was guarded, as always, but Val looked skeptical, and de Manzet was deep in thought.
“Comments?” Kurot set his wooden soldiers down and smiled, though the expression seemed a little forced. “I do not expect you to obey like slaves. You are all”—?he glanced at Marcus—“experienced officers.”
Marcus cleared his throat. “It seems a little... complicated.”
Kurot’s smile became even more strained. “Military operations often are.”
“You assume that Janus will react as you expect,” Fitz said. “And this force serving to spring the trap”—?he indicated the most forward of the blue soldiers—“?could be in serious danger if Janus ignores the threat to his line of communication and presses his attack.”
“He won’t,” Kurot said. “The cardinal sin of any general is underestimating his adversary, and I do not intend to commit it. Vhalnich is too good a commander to simply allow his flank to be turned. If he committed to attacking the bait force, he might destroy it, but we would be in a position to capture his entire army. No. He’ll come north to fight once it becomes clear he’s in danger.”
“What about Alves?” Val said. “There must be a bridge there, and supplies.”
“Messengers have gotten out of the city in small boats,” Kurot said. “Colonel Vinkers is in command there, and he is certain of his ability to hold out for at least another four weeks. In the very worst case, I have ordered him to demolish the bridges and fire the magazines before surrendering. Vhalnich will not escape that way, have no fear.”
That seemed to be the last of the objections. After a moment of silence, Kurot straightened.
“Very good. Detailed orders will be on the way before nightfall, gentlemen. The diversionary force will be yours, General Solwen, including much of the cavalry reserve. General d’Ivoire, you’ll have the lead for the attack against Vhalnich’s flanking force, when it shows itself. The rest of the army will follow and be ready to deal with Vhalnich’s primary attack. We complete our approach march tomorrow, and barring any unexpected developments, the plan goes into effect at first light the day after.”
All four generals rose and saluted. “Yes, sir.”
“God be with you all,” Kurot said. “Vordan is relying on your valor.”
*
“It’s hard to know what to think,” Val said, hunkering a little deep into his coat. He and Marcus rode together back up the road from where Kurot and his staff had camped. The rain was only a drizzle now. “If something goes wrong, I’m the one who’s going to be up the creek.”
“If it works, you’re the one who’s going to get all the credit,” Marcus pointed out. “Tip of the spear and all that.”
“Kurot will get the credit, you mean.” Val shook his head, a dribble of water running out of his cap. “Let him, honestly. As long as my men come back alive.”
“He seems to be taking Janus seriously, at least.”
“I suppose.” Val hunched his shoulders. “I can’t help but wish you were in command, Marcus. What would you do if you were in Kurot’s place?”
“I’m trying not to think about it,” Marcus said. “Panic, most likely.”
Val laughed. “I don’t think you’ve ever panicked in your life.”
You didn’t see me when dead men rose up with glowing green eyes, Marcus thought. But he said, “You just need to be careful. Remember you’re not intended to fight a major engagement, just give the impression that you’re ready to. And Give-Em-Hell will be there.”
“There’s that. After what happened in Murnsk, half the army thinks he’s practically superhuman.” He brushed his horse’s mane with one hand, sodden hair squelching. “I have a bad feeling, is all.”
“You always have a bad feeling, Val. It’s just nerves. Remember that tactics exam where you took class first?”
“I threw up just beforehand. In my boot.” Val smiled faintly. “Had to chuck it out the window and take the test in one sock.”
“Exactly.”
“There’s a little bit more riding on this than drinks at the Hafhouse, though.”
“I know.” Val had changed, too, Marcus realized. You couldn’t hold the lives of thousands of men in your hands and not change. Not unless you’re Janus bet Vhalnich, I suppose. “I think when we’re done you won’t have to buy your own drinks for a long time.”
“There’s a happy thought. Adrecht would have volunteered for the assignment just for that.”
Marcus laughed and clapped Val on the shoulder. Ahead, he could see the lights of the Second Division camp, and he waved to his old friend and turned off the road. His horse squelched across the sodden fields. He acknowledged the sentry’s challenge and then her salute as he came closer, and threaded his way through the outer ring of tents to his own.
Cyte was waiting for him, and mercifully she’d thought to save him a plate from dinner. Pork, apples, and some kind of bitter greens reminded him of the food from Mieran County, though the preparation was less artful. Enjoy it while it lasts. When they went on the attack, they’d probably be moving too fast to gather supplies, and the army would go back on good old dried meat and hardtack.
“Anything I should know about?” Marcus said, chewing vigorously. He swallowed and reached for his canteen.
“Not really, sir. A few out sick, but fewer than last week. The new recruits are toughening up. Colonel Erdine is complaining that the weather is hard on his horses.”
“Tell him that when I figure out how to give orders to the weather, I’ll take care of it.”
“Noted, sir. Any new orders from the general?”
“Mmm,” Marcus said, mouth full. After a moment, he went on. “I’m expecting written orders soon, so I don’t know how much I can tell you. But you can pass the word that we should expect action before long.”
Cyte nodded grimly. Everyone had known that was coming, of course. But to the recruits, the immediate prospect of combat was always something they had to work themselves up to, and it was better to warn them than to let it take them by surprise. Even the veterans could be forgiven for worrying a little, going up against Janus. I sure as hell do.
When the written set of orders arrived, Marcus was amused, though unsurprised, to find that they were both thorough and verbose. His line of march was spelled out in detail, complete with approximate times he was expected to reach certain landmarks and where his nearest supports would be positioned at each stage. If Marcus had sent it across an instructors’ desk at the War College, he would have received extra marks. After years in the field, though, all he could do was wonder what would go wrong first.
*