“I’ve spoken to Lady Winceslav on your behalf,” Adamat said. “She agreed that whatever petty crimes you and your sister are guilty of are secondary to the safety of Adro. As a member of Tamas’s council, she has given me the authority to offer you an out.”
“And what could that possibly be?”
“You will immediately step down from command. Your sister will step down from command as well. You will be escorted to your estate in northern Adro, where you will have one week to put your affairs in order before you and your households will be exiled. You will be allowed a onetime stipend of one million krana, and your property will be confiscated by the state.”
Ket’s nostrils flared. “That is not an out. That’s a sentence.”
“One million is a lot of money,” Abrax said sternly. “Do you think Tamas will be so kind when he returns?”
“Tamas is dead.”
“He is not.” Abrax removed a letter from her pocket and handed it to Ket. “We received this communication just this morning. Tamas has crossed the Charwood Pile with the Seventh and the Ninth and sixty thousand Deliv infantry. He will be here in two weeks.”
Adamat felt his jaw drop. Tamas was alive? For certain? Why had Lady Winceslav not mentioned this? It changed everything!
Ket paled visibly. She took up the arrest warrant once more, her fingers shaking, and read it over thoroughly.
“I suggest,” Adamat said, “that you be sure to be out of the country by the time he arrives.”
“What of my men? Who will take command?”
“I will,” Abrax said.
“That is not legal!”
“And you are concerned about what is and isn’t legal?” Adamat asked lightly.
Ket rounded on Adamat. “I have covered for my sister’s crimes, yes. But I am still a general of the Adran army and I am a patriot. I will only take this ‘clemency’ ”—she spit the word as if it were poison—“on the condition that my men will be safe.”
“Your men will be placed under special command of the Wings of Adom,” Abrax said. “We will immediately send Hilanska a missive stating that you have been relieved and that your three brigades are under our employ—and protection—until Field Marshal Tamas returns to the field.”
Ket’s fingers drummed on the table and she stared hard at the air above Adamat’s head.
“General,” Adamat said, “this is the only way they will survive. Surely your scouts have told you that the Kez are already positioning themselves to attack tomorrow morning, and General Hilanska is positioning for a flanking maneuver.”
“More proof that he’s working with the Kez,” Ket said.
Adamat shared a nervous glance with Abrax. “Even if that’s true, he dare not attack once your brigades are under the Wings of Adom flag.”
Ket leapt to her feet suddenly. “All right! I agree. I relinquish command. I’ll take my sister and go. Just let me address the men one last time.” There was a note of appeal in her voice that hadn’t been there before, and Adamat could see she was in earnest.
Abrax met her gaze with steel in her eyes. “You will not have the chance to mend your reputation, Ket. Your men will know you as a thief and a liar.”
Anger and grief danced across Ket’s face—raw emotions of which Adamat wouldn’t have guessed her capable.
Slowly, Abrax stood, and with a sigh she added, “I will make certain they know that you stepped down with their best interests at heart.”
Ket’s only answer was a defeated nod.
Abrax clasped her hands behind her back and squared her shoulders. “General Ket,” she said, “you are relieved of command.”
Morning came with an unwelcome chill in the Wings of Adom camp.
Adamat stared, bleary-eyed, as Kez infantry began to form just within view, a couple of miles to the south. Their tan-and-green uniforms made them look like acres upon acres of fall wheat ready for the harvest. How many infantry did the Kez have left? Two hundred thousand? Three? Abrax’s scouts said that they’d brought up fresh levies from Budwiel during the night.
He jumped at the sudden blast of a cannon. Several more followed, and Adamat knew he should get used to the noise. For now it was just Abrax warning the Kez to keep their distance. It would get worse as the morning wore on and hundreds of cannons opened fire on every front.
Abrax stood beside him, looking out from their vantage on top of a hill where Ket’s command tent had been. Instead of the Kez, she was watching to the northeast.
“Any word?” Adamat asked.
The bulk of the Adran army, under Hilanska’s command, was hidden by the hills.
“We sent over thirty messengers throughout the night,” Abrax said, her voice raw. “At least ten of whom were shot on sight. I don’t know what Hilanska has told his men, but he has turned them against us completely. Lady Winceslav would have gone herself if I hadn’t prevented it.”
“Where is the Lady now?” Adamat asked. The Lady, along with twenty-six thousand Wings infantry, had joined them yesterday evening. They’d brought along news of the intercepted missive—Hilanska’s treachery. Adamat had hoped that at least Bo would be with them, but only Nila arrived. What good could a barely trained Privileged do?
“I sent her back to Adopest with a hundred of my best cavalry,” Abrax said. “I won’t let her die on the field.” There was a long silence as Abrax continued to watch the northeast, and then she said, “You’ve killed us all, Adamat.” There was no accusation or anger in the words. Just a dull acceptance.
The realization that they would all be slaughtered by nightfall descended on Adamat’s shoulders. He felt his chest tighten and forced himself to take slow, deep breaths. Hilanska was a traitor. He would attack the Wings of Adom, destroying both them and their three adopted brigades of Adran infantry, and then… what? Order his men to surrender to the Kez? Would they follow such an order? Or would the Kez simply swarm and slaughter them as well?
The Adran army would destroy itself, and then the Kez would be fresh to fight Field Marshal Tamas and the Deliv when they arrived.
It was absolutely hopeless. They were hemmed in with no possibility of escape. Abrax had ordered ditches dug and fortifications built. She was determined to make a last stand of it, but Adamat could see the stress lines on her face and the purple circles under her eyes from a sleepless night.
Abrax’s head twitched, and Adamat turned to follow her gaze. On the distant hills to the northeast, a horseman had appeared. It paused, watching them, and then Adamat saw the glitter of the sun off bayonets on the crest of the hill.
“They’re coming,” Abrax said.
CHAPTER
12
Where the pit is everyone?” Tamas demanded.
The corporal before him, standing over his breakfast with a spoon forgotten in his hand, stared openmouthed at Tamas.
The Adran camp was nearly empty. Only a small guard had been left with the thousands of hangers-on, and the sea of tents had been abandoned. That meant only one thing: Battle would be joined today. Tamas could smell it on the wind, and despite his exhaustion and the ache deep in his bones, he felt a thrill course through him.
Olem sawed at the reins of his mount to bring it closer to the corporal. “You heard the field marshal, soldier. Speak up!” Steam rose from their horses from the long, hard ride through the night.
“I’m, I’m…” the corporal stuttered. “I’m so sorry, sir. They’re…” He lifted one arm to point southwest. “They’ve gone to battle.”
“Bloody pit,” Tamas swore. Why would Hilanska choose to join battle now? The Kez would still outnumber the Adran army, and on the open plains like this the Kez would be able to bring their superior numbers to bear with devastating effect. “Do you hear that, Olem? Cannon fire.”
“I hear it, sir.”
“Sir!” Vlora raced toward them through the camp, having gone ahead to try to find the General Staff. She arrived panting and took the reins of her horse from Olem, swinging into the sa
ddle. “Sir, they’re not attacking the Kez!”
“Then who the pit would they be attacking?” Tamas asked.
“They’re attacking our own men. General Ket had separated her brigades from the army, and Hilanska is attacking her!”
“Ride!” Tamas bellowed, digging his heels in, feeling his stallion leap forward.
The three of them galloped through the Adran camp and then southwest, following the trail of his brigades. The sweat poured down Tamas’s face despite the cool wind racing past. What had happened? How could a disaster of this magnitude occur? He was going to find Ket and string her up by her own bootlaces.
They rode several miles along the main highway, and with each crested hill Tamas got a slightly better glimpse of the forces arrayed to their south. His heart thundered in his chest and he clung to the neck of his horse, urging more speed.
They reached the rear of the Adran lines. Soldiers leapt out of their way as they thundered through. Tamas spotted the command tent placed at the height of a hillock overlooking the artillery and veered toward it. Soldiers were beginning to look curiously in his direction, but he ignored them, pushing on.
He leapt from his mount, tossing the reins to a startled infantryman, and advanced on the command tent. He threw back the flaps. “Damn it, Hilanska, what is going on here?”
Several dozen eyes stared at him in dumb confusion.
“Well?” Tamas asked.
Chaos broke out among the assembled officers. There were protestations and exclamations and hands reaching for him. More than one chair was knocked over as men sprang to their feet. A cacophony of voices all tried to speak to him at once.
“Quiet down!” Olem roared.
“Thank you, Olem. Now, tell me, what’s going on here?” Tamas searched for familiar faces and was saddened to see so few. Had they lost that many men since he’d been gone?
“We’re about to commence battle with the traitor General Ket,” a colonel said from the back.
“Like pit we are,” Tamas said. “Olem… no, Vlora. Take a white flag across the valley. I want Ket here in person within the hour to give me an explanation as to what’s happening.”
“She won’t come,” the same colonel spoke up. “She refuses to see our messengers.”
“She’ll see me. Was that the Wings of Adom’s colors I saw above Ket’s camp?”
A female general whom Tamas only vaguely recognized gave him an uncertain nod.
“Then bring me Brigadier Abrax as well, or whoever is in charge. Dismissed, Captain.”
Vlora snapped a sharp salute and left the tent at a sprint.
“Wheel our artillery to face south,” Tamas ordered. “I want all of our cavalry on our eastern flank—and I do mean all of them. Split them into three groups and wait for my order. The Kez are preparing to advance. They’ll come on at about ten o’clock, or I’m a horse’s ass. Keep our men facing Ket’s troops, but make it damned clear that they are not to engage their fellow Adrans. If the Kez think we’re about to attack our own men, they are going to get a damned big surprise. Get to it!”
The tent burst into a flurry of motion.
“General Hilanska,” Tamas said, “what are you doing? Sneaking out the back? Get over here.”
Hilanska approached along the side of the tent, a wary eye on Tamas. “Sir?” he asked quietly.
“Come with me.” Tamas threw back the tent flap. “Move the command tent up the hillside about forty paces,” he said to the guards outside. “I want to be able to see everything going on in that valley.” He strode up the hill toward the spot he’d indicated, beckoning Hilanska along with him. His body ached from the ride, exhaustion tugged at his muscles, but the excitement of the battle made his fingers twitch.
When they reached the top, he turned to Hilanska, but his words caught in his mouth. “Are you all right?” he asked.
A sheen of sweat had appeared on Hilanska’s brow. His collar was already soaked, and he was picking nervously at the buttons of his jacket. Four provosts had trailed them up the hill and stood back at a respectful distance.
“Fine, sir,” Hilanska said, dabbing at his cheeks. “What was it you wanted?”
Tamas turned toward the Kez forces. There were at least two hundred and sixty thousand infantry out there, along with twenty thousand or so cavalry. It was a sight to behold, but he couldn’t let the grandeur of it impress him. He had work to do.
“Hilanska, I want you to put your best gun crews there and there,” he said, pointing. “I want them to rain down everything they have on… Hilanska, are you listening, I…” Tamas felt a sharp pain in his side. He scowled and rubbed at the spot. “Like I was saying, I want them to…”
Tamas felt himself shoved forward suddenly and heard a shout. He whirled, a curse on his lips.
Olem was shouting, his sword drawn, and was suddenly set upon by all four of the provosts who had followed them up the hill. Hilanska was behind the provosts, a dagger in his one hand.
“What the bloody pit is going on?” Tamas demanded. He reached for the butt of his pistol instinctively, but his fingers slipped on it. He held them up, blinking back a sudden dizziness. Their tips were red.
He’d been stabbed.
Hilanska had bloody well stabbed him.
The one-armed general turned and fled down the hill.
Tamas sat in the grass, his jacket stripped from him and his shirt soaked with blood, trying to make sense of what had happened.
A surgeon sat behind him with his hands under Tamas’s arms while another cut away his shirt and began to examine the stab wound between his ribs. Not ten paces away, the bodies of two Adran provosts were being carted away, while a third surgeon tended to a gash across Olem’s forehead.
Hilanska had betrayed him. That much was clear. But how deep did it go? How long had the betrayal been in the works? Had Hilanska let Budwiel’s walls fall, trapping Tamas behind enemy lines months ago? Hilanska had to be behind this schism with General Ket, working to ensure the annihilation of the entire Adran army.
“Olem!” Tamas had to know more. The most important question was, Did Hilanska have accomplices?
Olem appeared a moment later, pressing a fresh bandage against his forehead. “Sir?”
“Fine swordsmanship there,” Tamas said. Olem had held off all four provosts until help could arrive. “Did any of them survive?”
“Thank you, sir. Two of them survived. One will die by morning. The boys were rough on them when they saw that you were wounded.”
“Rough won’t even begin to cover it,” Tamas said. “Go find out what they know.”
“Shouldn’t I go after Hilanska, sir?”
Tamas hesitated. “I don’t know whom to trust,” he said quietly. “Get two squads together—see if you can find any of your Riflejacks—and send them after Hilanska. I want you to stay close.”
“Yes sir.”
Tamas swore under his breath as one of the surgeons poked a finger at his wound. “Bandage it up and get me some black powder. It didn’t hit a lung. I’ll live.” He beat the surgeons back with one hand and got unsteadily to his feet. The pain in his side was sharp now, and he was reminded of a similar wound he’d taken in Gurla twenty years before. He had been bedridden for weeks and nearly succumbed to infection.
He didn’t have time for that now.
In the valley below them he saw that the Wings of Adom had taken up a defensive ring around Ket’s camp and had dug in with fortifications not unlike the kind Tamas had used against Beon je Ippile’s cavalry—though not nearly as deep. He spotted Vlora racing along on her charger, white flag snapping in the wind. She reached the Wings’ lines and after a few tense moments was allowed past.
The Kez continued to fall into line. Their army looked immense—and it was—but its size made it ponderous. Tamas adjusted his initial guess that they’d attack by ten. They wouldn’t be ready until at least noon. Maybe one. They would attack straight out, using their superior numbers to surround and over
whelm General Ket’s camp.
Tamas cracked a powder charge and sprinkled a bit on his tongue. Once the initial shock of the powder trance passed, he felt younger and stronger and the pain from the knife wound was nothing but a tickle in the back of his mind.
Out of the corner of his eye, Tamas saw Olem approaching.
“Anything?” Tamas asked.
“No sir. Both provosts claim that Hilanska warned them you might return but that it would be a Kez trick—a Privileged disguised as you. They also claim he didn’t expect your doppelgänger for weeks.”
Tamas snorted. “So he panicked and ran when I arrived early? Let’s just be glad he wasn’t ready for us. Pit, what other rumors has he spread?”
“I can try to find out, sir.”
“Do it.”
“Permission to search his quarters?”
“Granted.”
Olem was off again and Tamas looked around him for someone he could trust. Most of the generals were with their brigades, and it seemed that at least some of Hilanska’s support staff had fled with him.
“You there!” Tamas called. “Colonel, come here.” From the side, the young man looked fairly familiar, and when he turned to Tamas, he recognized the colonel immediately. “Colonel Sabastenien, it’s good to see you alive.”
The former Wings of Adom brigadier was a short man in his midtwenties with muttonchops filled with premature gray and a somber face. Tamas noted that the gray hadn’t been there the last time they met, and wondered whether it was dyed. He gave Tamas a respectful nod. “Likewise, sir. And it’s not Sabastenien. It’s Florone now. I’ve taken my mother’s family name. I prefer not to be immediately recognizable to my former comrades.”
Tamas understood that. While he’d done nothing illegal or untoward in murdering a traitor in Tamas’s defense, Sabastenien had been cast out of the Wings of Adom because the traitor had been a fellow brigadier—and Lady Winceslav’s lover.
“All right, Saba… Florone. I need a battle plan. Where are you assigned?”
“I’m with the Twenty-First Artillery.”
“And you have artillery experience?”