Hells march, p.48
Hell's March, page 48
Agon rubbed his chin whiskers in thought. “Yes, but don’t forget the fog here. It will come again tomorrow. We can use it to advance under cover, but that’s one thing we’ve never trained for. We could be asking for hopeless and costly confusion—whole regiments marching straight into the lake instead of the enemy! But the opportunity is too great to pass.” His expression firmed. “We’ll begin a bombardment as soon as our artillery can see the vaguest target—we do at least have a small advantage in artillery this time, and the enemy can’t maneuver either. We’ll pound them for a while, then advance all along the line under the cover of smoke and fog. I want the men to move swiftly and we’ll land the heaviest blow on the left, against that inconvenient hill. Once that’s overrun, we can roll the enemy up and push them into the sea!”
* * *
1ST AND 2ND DIVISIONS / SOUTHEAST OF GRAN LAGO
Lieutenant Fisher, 3rd Dragoons, and, to everyone’s surprise, Sal Hernandez, of all people, swept down out of the burning sunset glaring off the apparently endless lake to the west. Their horses, fine former Dom mounts, were hopelessly blown, and the riders didn’t look much better when they came to a halt beside Lewis Cayce and his eclectic staff. His personal companions were Varaa-Choon, Leonor Anson, and Corporal Willis as always, but King Har-Kaaska, Colonel Reed, Reverend Harkin, Dr. Newlin, Consul Koaar-Taak of the 1st Ocelomeh, Marvin Beck of the 1st US, and George Wagley of the 2nd Uxmal were there as well. And Captain Olayne had escorted Samantha Wilde forward to hear the news when the first cry of “messengers comin’!” was raised. She’d continued her excellent logistical work alongside Dr. Newlin (they headed the field quartermaster’s department in all but name together now), and she’d borne up well and cheerfully under the hardships of the campaign. No one begrudged her presence, particularly since she hadn’t seen Major Anson for but a short while when the forces briefly converged at Valle Escondido. She was understandably worried about him.
They all moved aside so the tired troops could keep marching on without altering their grueling, metronomic pace. Fisher saluted. “Beg . . .” He coughed and took a mouthful of water from his canteen, swished it around and spat away from everyone. “Pardon me, sirs, mistress,” he said, mortified, then looked even more embarrassed when he realized he hadn’t addressed Varaa as anything. She laughed and waved him on. Nodding his thanks, he started again. “Beg to report: all mounted forces are deployed and dug in east of the town of Gran Lago. Most of the populace has fled the city, but a few came over to our side. Unfortunately, the lead elements of General Agon’s army were arriving and going into camp as we left. Major Anson estimates the enemy at twenty-odd thousand, as observed before, and expects a general assault in the morning.”
“Thank you, Mr. Fisher. A fine report,” Lewis said, turning his attention to Sal. “I assume you were . . . found at Gran Lago?”
“Yes sir. Down from Vera Cruz with a couple ships.” He shrugged. “Lookin for you, sir.” He winked at Leonor, then quickly removed his hat and addressed Samantha. “I also bear the sweet, longin’ words an’ lovin’ regard for you, señorita, from the noble heart of the courageous Ranger Anson!”
Samantha fluttered her fan and flushed. “Did he really tell you to say that?”
Sal laughed. “Of course not! I said all that was from his heart. Bein’ his friend for twenty years, I know what’s in there better than he does.”
“I expect he’s right about that,” Leonor said, lips ticking upward.
“But why were you looking for us?” asked Colonel Reed.
“To take troops back to Vera Cruz,” Sal replied with exaggerated patience. “I understand there’s another matter to decide first.”
“Too true,” said Dr. Newlin.
“You just came directly from Gran Lago,” said Major Beck. “Exactly how many more miles is it now?”
“I’d say almost ‘exactly’ nine,” Sal replied, still a little sarcastic. He couldn’t help it.
Lewis puffed his cheeks and glanced at Varaa, who was whispering urgently with King Har-Kaaska. “Another four or five hours at this pace, and that just for the lead elements,” he murmured grimly. “And the men are already so tired.”
“We have to press on,” Varaa insisted. “March all night if we must.”
“I know,” Lewis said.
“If it comes to that, half the troops won’t make it,” Dr. Newlin warned. “And half that do won’t be fit to fight.”
“I’m aware of that,” Lewis said, teeth set.
“So what’s the point?” asked Colonel Reed.
“Sirs, if I may,” interjected Lieutenant Fisher. He continued when he saw nods. “I personally don’t think Major Anson’s combined force can withstand a determined assault. The numbers . . .” He shrugged. “He’ll try, but he’ll fail, and all those men—virtually all the mounted troops in this army—will die. The worst part is, they’ll have died for nothing, because even if they badly damage the enemy, there’s an almost impassable marsh west of the city the Doms can cross and effectively block behind them forever. I scouted it myself, along with a company of Rangers under Mr. Beeryman, shortly after we arrived. I hate to presume to offer a suggestion—”
“What he’s sayin’,” Sal interrupted, proud of the young lieutenant for speaking up, but suspecting his word might carry more weight with some—certainly Leonor, and therefore Colonel Cayce—“is there’s only two real choices. Either get there somehow an’ save the blocking force, or send us back—we’d be obliged for fresh horses—to tell Major Anson to pull out tonight an’ open the road. The campaign’ll be effectively over, though Gran Lago’ll be a good place for a new frontier defense, but it’ll be over anyway if Major Anson gets wiped out.”
“What if my fath—I mean, Major Anson,” Leonor corrected herself sharply, “pulls back to the crossing on the marsh himself? Blocks the enemy there?”
Sal was shaking his head. “Then the Doms would have the city an’ you can’t get past without attackin’ it, which would be a bloody nightmare. An’ the mounted troopers’d be cut off.”
“Why doesn’t Anson just pull back into the city himself, then?” Reed asked.
“He considered defending there at first,” Lieutenant Fisher confirmed, “but the perimeter’s simply too big. If he only had to defend one wall, he’d be fine, but the enemy could envelop him and attack multiple walls at once. The defensive position he’s in now is actually better in most respects.”
“I see,” Lewis said, noting for the first time that Samantha and Leonor were both watching him closely.
Varaa cleared her throat, and they looked at her, blinking and whipping her tail. “It’s no secret that King Har-Kaaska had . . . doubts about this alliance, about its ability to even protect the cities on the Yucatán, much less actually beat the Doms.” She looked at Lewis. “It did both those things, then defeated and incorporated the Holcanos, and has now chased another large Dom army halfway across a continent.” She glanced at Har-Kaaska. “After getting . . . a little excited at Cayal, he’s reluctant to put himself forward during discussions like this, but I’m not—and I feel the same way he does. We want to beat the Doms, not just chase them away! They’ll be back someday, worse than ever with the Blood Priests in control.” She flipped her tail and glared at Colonel Reed. “If you want to stop and rest the night, fine, but Har-Kaaska and I will lead the First and Second Ocelomeh Regiments onward tonight. They, at least, will be in position to support Major Anson in the morning.”
“But . . .” Reed sputtered. “You can’t just leave!”
“Actually, they can,” Lewis said gravely. “All the Ocelomeh can. Despite my urging and the good faith efforts by most, a true union of all the city-states and people in the alliance has yet to be agreed upon. Absent such an agreement, I’ll remind you that Har-Kaaska warned at the very beginning that the time may come when he’d reassert control over his Ocelomeh. They’re his people.”
“But he can’t just go off with them!” Reed insisted.
“He’s not,” Varaa denied. “We’re not. We’re going to fight the common enemy.”
Sal suddenly snapped his fingers. “Wait a minute! Look, there’s no need to split anybody up. Not even much need to rush. Sure, nobody’ll get any sleep, but those nine miles ain’t the roughest country, and if you can keep to a couple miles an hour, that’ll have you in position by midnight or thereabouts. You can throw down and sleep then, for a while.”
“We can’t just collapse in the face of the enemy!” Reed exclaimed, sounding indignant, and Sal wondered why he was being like this. He’d always been a careful soldier, but not hesitant. Maybe the fact they were so far out on a limb finally had him spooked. Sal shook it off. “They’ll never know you’re there. See, I almost forgot; up where we’ll be—an’ Lieutenant Fisher an’ I will lead you—there’s this really thick fog in the mornings. . . .”
CHAPTER 27
GRAN LAGO
Major Anson,” came a whisper, jerking him instantly awake. The form leaning over where he’d sat down “for a moment” against the rocky, raw earthen berm near Dukane’s center section of guns was indeterminate in the darkness. “It’s me, sir. Lieutenant Barca. Captain Meder sent me to ask if you had any special instructions for us, up on the hill.”
Anson blinked gummy eyes and looked where lanterns still lit men placing entanglements in front of Barca’s and Meder’s defenses. The dragoons were dug in almost to the top, but there was a gap where it got steep. It does look a little lonely up there, he reflected.
“Still, I wouldn’t have disturbed your rest if we hadn’t seen that,” Barca continued, gesturing out to the front. Anson now realized there were several men standing over him. One was obviously Boogerbear. The other two became clear when Dukane’s voice identified them.
“Lieutenant Lara and Captain Dukane, sir. Lara’s fellows spotted the activity first, and we came looking for you. Since then, well, see for yourself. Should we stand to?”
Boogerbear reached down and hauled Anson to his feet, turning him to look out at the space between the breastworks and the enemy camp. More lanterns had been arranged and lit in a circle about three hundred yards out, and several shadowy figures stood within it. “I’ll be damned,” Anson said. “Looks like Agon wants to talk again. He’s become a fiend for that, an’ I heard he had a long palaver with Colonel Itzam at Nautla. Devil’s gettin’ downright sociable. No, Captain Dukane, don’t rouse the men. Let ’em rest. If I’m right, talkin’ tonight means straight to fightin’ in the mornin’.” He pulled out his watch and tilted it so the distant gleam illuminated the face. “Barely nine o’clock. I’d thought it was the middle o’ the night an’ ol’ Agon was bein’ rude.” He looked apologetically at Dukane. “Didn’t mean to drift off.”
“You need rest as much as anyone. More,” Dukane scoffed.
“Hmm,” Anson replied noncommittally. “Looks like four of ’em out there. No tellin’ who they are from here. Boogerbear, pick a couple fellas an’ ride out to see who they are an’ what they want.”
“Want me to kill ’em?” the big Ranger asked casually.
“Not yet,” Anson replied, equally mild.
In minutes, Boogerbear and two other Rangers had retrieved horses and pounded out to investigate. They came straight back. “A lieutenant an’ some other sacrificial lambs,” Boogerbear reported. “Said Colonel Itzam had ’em do it this way at Nautla an’ it made sense. If you wanna talk, I’ll ride back an’ give ’em the word. They’ll go tell Agon everything’s set, an’ you an’ two others can go meet him an’ two others.” He hesitated. “Why not kill them when they come?”
Anson chuckled and sighed. “Ain’t sportin.’ An’ Lewis wouldn’t approve.” He looked around. “Mr. Lara, you an’ Mr. Barca, come with me.”
* * *
—
GENERAL AGON APPEARED largely as Anson remembered him: short, stocky, dark, and perhaps a bit more menacing in the meager light of a dozen candle lanterns. His yellow uniform and knee-high boots seemed less immaculate than before, the silver lace dull and tarnished against the faded black cuffs and facings of his coat. Even his large, silver-trimmed tricorn was more gray than black and had lost its crisp shape. His companions looked the same: worn down by a long, grueling march, and Anson thought he recognized them from a previous meeting. He definitely remembered the tall aide, the first “Dom” he’d ever seen—and the one Leonor once shot with a Paterson Colt. The other was a taller, thinner version of Agon, but could’ve otherwise been his brother. He was eventually introduced, after a long staring session, as “General Tun.” The enemy leaders had met Lara before as well, but not Barca. Anson was a bit surprised that they showed no curiosity regarding his race. Then again, it seemed there were many very dark, indeed quite black, inhabitants of the area around Gran Lago, and not all of them were slaves. Anson was equally surprised and glad that fact had gone virtually unremarked upon by his own troops. Father Orno, and certainly Reverend Harkin, would have theories about it, no doubt, but now wasn’t the time to speculate.
“So, we meet again,” Agon finally said rather awkwardly, addressing Anson directly.
“I reckon we been ‘meetin’ ’ for the last couple hundred miles,” Anson reminded. “I don’t know off the top o’ my head how many leguas that is.”
Agon frowned. “Quite so, and congratulations, I suppose. Dominion lancers have been the finest horsemen on the continent ever since they were formed, yet you essentially exterminated ours.” Tun grunted sharply, and Agon continued, “I give nothing away by acknowledging that.”
“No sir, you don’t,” Anson agreed. “An’ if they were the best around . . . well, I hate to speak ill o’ the dead, but that ain’t sayin’ much. Comanches would’a ate ’em alive even quicker.” It was difficult to tell in such meager light, but Anson would almost swear he’d seen surprise and concern cross Agon’s face at the mention of Comanches. Or maybe he just feared there might be another group he didn’t know, like mounted Holcanos, who literally ate people?
Anson let it pass, but General Tun bristled. “Not saying much indeed, it seems,” he spat at Anson, “but you, their betters, will soon be just as extinct. You’ve surrendered your mobility and trapped yourselves!”
“I guess that’s what we’re here to talk about, ain’t it? Your usual demand for me to march my fellas out to be burnt alive, impaled an’ crucified? No thanks. We seen enough o’ that—a bunch of Tranquilo’s Blood Priests went on a spree in some villages we passed on the way here. They’re all dead now, by the way,” he stated simply, “along with most o’ their soldier escorts. Wounded an’ surrendered troops were well treated—at least them that were just bein’ soldiers.” His tone turned harsh. “Those that were seen by survivors to be carryin’ on just like Blood Priests while they impaled innocent people, or nailed women an’ children to crosses an’ then burnt ’em alive . . . Well, they were still soldiers of a sort, so they were shot. We gave the Blood Priests to the villagers we rescued for proper justice,” he added with satisfaction, then took a deep breath and cocked his head to the side. “Now we’re here to sort you out.”
Agon nodded slightly. “Even outnumbered ten to one, I’ve no doubt you’ll try. But what if I told you I applaud your actions in the villages and we now share the same chief enemy—that it’s Don Frutos and Tranquilo’s Blood Priests I’m after, not you?”
“I’d say we pretty much guessed that. Some sort o’ power play or coup by the Blood Priests. Word from Vera Cruz—which I’m sure you know we hold with the aid o’ locals—bears that out.”
“Then you understand why I’d be content to allow you to march out of your works, but not to your doom. I simply want you to . . .” He paused and waved. “Go away. I don’t want to fight you. Not now. I only want to pursue and destroy the same rabid Tranquilo whom you also despise.”
“Are you implying we’re now on the same side in some way?” Lara asked incredulously.
“Of course not!” General Tun almost exploded. “You’re still only vile, savage heretics, and we’ll come for you again one day. At the moment, however, you pose a less immediate threat to the Dominion as a whole than the despicable and despotic Blood Priests. For now, we’ll lend you your miserable lives if you give us the road!”
“If I may, Major,” Barca asked, and Anson nodded. “I’m afraid I’m confused,” he told General Agon. “You originally came against us under the command of Don Frutos, with Blood Priests in your midst, professing the same hate and either performing or enabling the same atrocities. We defeated you badly at the Washboard and drove you away. Now you’ve had a break with the Blood Priests even as you resumed your offensive against us . . .” He paused. “. . . and Colonel Itzam stopped you at Nautla.”
General Tun was simmering, Captain Arevalo looked thoughtful, and Agon showed no expression at all.
“My point is,” Barca continued, “as depraved as we find the Blood Priests—and believe me when I say that appraisal’s recently been fortified,” he added darkly, glaring at General Tun. “In our eyes, there’s no appreciable difference between you and them, and your threats only reinforce that conviction. If you’re somehow different, you must explain how. What makes them worse than you, to us, and why should we care? Give us a reason not to oppose you with every last drop of our blood.”
Anson gave Barca an approving nod. “Well said,” he told him.
“You should ‘care’ because we’ll let you live, for now. They wouldn’t,” Tun huffed.
“You wouldn’t either, while they were in your midst,” Lara restated patiently.
Tun was fashioning another scathing retort when Agon held up a hand. “He’s right, you know,” he told his friend, then looked back at Anson. “Our understanding of God and His requirements is different from yours. I know little of the world you—perhaps we as well—originally came from, but my impression is that it’s a somewhat . . . gentler place in some respects. It’s therefore understandable that you, and quite probably many of our own ancestors, imagined the god we share—oh yes, I believe He is the same god—to be somewhat gentler as well. But others of our ancestors native to this world, or deposited here much earlier, had their own, harsher understanding of God. Considering the nature of this world, it should be easy for you to grasp why some of their beliefs rang more clearly to our ancestors and were so widely embraced and comingled to form a more perfect truth. . . .”
