The Infernal Battalion (The Shadow Campaigns #5)

“Yes, sir.” The young man looked around curiously. Cyte and Abby were in the tent with them, looking over the big map, along with several Girls’ Own sentries. This courier clearly found the idea of women in uniform fascinating.

Marcus cleared his throat. “That’ll be all.”

“Ah. Yes, sir.” He straightened, saluted, and left the tent. Marcus glared after him.

He should go visit the cutters. Casualties from the fighting at Satinvol were still being brought in by the stretcher teams combing the town. Those who could be saved had been evacuated already, so now the work mostly came down to giving the badly wounded a somewhat more comfortable place to die. Meanwhile, Hannah Courvier and the other cutters worked nonstop, the floor of their tent slick with blood, the pile of amputated limbs outside growing ever larger as the bone saws sang.

All of the Second’s regiments had lost soldiers, but it was the casualties among the Girls’ Own that hit Marcus the hardest. I can’t help it, damn it. I’m supposed to protect them, not march them into danger. Thinking about it made him angry with himself, angry with Janus, angry with everyone. It was almost enough to make him forget what had happened on the enemy’s last charge.

Magic. It had to be magic. That Girls’ Own ranker had turned on him, and he was certain the glow in her eyes had been real. Janus must have... something. Some power. Maybe he found what he was looking for. The voice at the back of his mind—?the one he tried to ignore, because he knew he wanted what it said to be true—?said, Maybe something got to him. Maybe he’s not to blame for all this after all.

“More good news, sir?” Abby said.

Marcus blinked and shook his head. He handed her the orders, and while she read he said, “We’re going to be moving out at first light again. You’d better spread the word.”

“Understood, sir.” Cyte saluted. “I’ll make sure the colonels get the message.”

“You believe this, sir?” Abby said, when Cyte had slipped out of the tent.

“Which part?”

“That we’re going to be able to trap Janus against Alves.”

The orders called for a fast march southwest, pushing through whatever got in their way. With the Satinvol bridge destroyed and the Alves bridge presumably still in friendly hands or at least demolished, Janus would be left with no way out, and his supplies would be diminished by days of siege and fighting. The Army of the Republic, by contrast, was still receiving supplies and reinforcements over the passes. Kurot had carefully assigned forces to guard those lines, but Janus had made no attempt to interfere. As though he doesn’t mind walking into the trap.

“It seems... possible.” Marcus shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t want to speak against a superior directly, but... “Janus is tricky. You know that. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s got something up his sleeve.”

“Me either.” Abby sighed. “We gave about as good as we got yesterday. It’s not easy, fighting our own people.”

“No, it isn’t,” Marcus said. “Is morale holding up in your regiment?”

“I think so. The girls feel... not good, never good after something like this, but happy to have done their part.” She cocked her head. “Thank you, by the way. For keeping your promise.”

“It’s... only fair.” Even if it does give me nightmares. “Your performance was excellent. General Ihernglass would have been proud.”

“I’m only sorry you were in danger,” Abby said. “I never expected those mad bastards to try to break out.”

“No one did, myself least of all.” Marcus hesitated. “Any idea who they were? They seemed to have a mix of uniforms—?I saw Vordanai, Murnskai, and some in civilian clothes.”

“Nobody seems to know,” Abby said. “We didn’t capture any of them alive, not one. And the Vordanai soldiers from other regiments just know they’re some kind of personal guard for Janus, but not the name of their unit or how many there are.”

It feels wrong. Janus’ old Mierantai Volunteers had been almost fanatical in their master’s defense, but he didn’t think even they would have thrown away their lives like that. It has to be magic. He wished Raesinia were here. Cyte knows. Maybe I can talk to her about what she’s seen.

That would have to wait for tomorrow, though. The light was draining from the sky, and fatigue from the day’s fighting dragged at Marcus’ limbs like lead weights. He made his apologies to Abby, and she saluted and left the tent. Once she was gone, the full force of exhaustion fell on Marcus, and he barely made it to his bedroll before he was asleep.

The drums woke him what felt like minutes later. He sat up with a groan, blood pounding in his head. Before he managed to push himself to his feet, there was a scratch at the tent flap.

“Sir?” Cyte’s voice, sounding inhumanly good-?natured for this early in the morning. “Are you awake?”

“Getting there,” Marcus said. Maybe I’m getting old.

Blessedly, Cyte had brought coffee. His favorite was still Khandarai style, dark and thick with a kick like a mule, but when he was feeling fragile he had to admit the milder Vordanai variety had its appeal. Breathing in the rich scent and taking the first few scalding sips had an almost magical effect, and by the time he reached the bottom of the cup he felt almost human again. Cyte stood to one side, quietly watching his transformation.

“Thank you,” he said. “I needed that.”

She smiled only slightly. “Of course, sir.” Has she been taking lessons from Fitz?

“Everything on schedule?”

“We should be ready to break camp in the next half an hour, sir.”

“I’d like to have a word with the colonels before we take the command tent down.”

“I’ll let them know, sir.”

Within a few minutes, they had all gathered: Abby, Sevran, de Koste, and Blackstream, Erdine for the cavalry and Archer for the artillery. Cyte joined them, too, and stood quietly by the tent flap. Even the large command tent felt crowded with so many gathered around the table.

“In another half an hour, we’ll start our advance,” Marcus said. “We’re the far right of the line, so our flank should line up on the Pale. Colonel Blackstream, that’s you. Colonel Giforte, the First Regiment will be skirmishing in front. Colonel Sevran, you’ll be on our left. General Warus’ division is next in line, so make sure to maintain contact.”

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