Page 185 of The Infernal Battalion

She smiled, just slightly, and suddenly he could see Ellie in her face. The eyes were the same, the basic compassion he’d known from the little girl shining through the cynicism of the veteran soldier. He found himself momentarily unable to speak, and coughed to cover it.

“I ought to get back,” Winter said, standing from the table. “Busy day tomorrow.”

“Wait.” Marcus fought to keep his tone level. “Winter. You are my sister.”

Her face went guarded again. “I know.”

“I... may not be entirely sure what that means. Not yet.” He shook his head. “But I would like the opportunity to find out. So...” He paused. “Be careful, would you?”

That smile again, half sarcastic quirk of the lips and half good-​natured grin. “I’ll do my best. I think I’d like that, too.”

*

Bear Ridge was less impressive in person than on the map. Marcus hadn’t been expecting a craggy mountain, but the reality hardly deserved to be called a hill. It was more like a patch of rough ground, sparsely wooded and overgrown with bushes, that happened to rise slightly from the surrounding fields. Split-​rail fences divided up the land around it, more marker than obstacle. To the east, the Marak was barely visible as a shimmering line, with the ground rising sharply beyond it.

The cavalry had arrived at the ridge by midmorning, and the first of the infantry trooped up in the early afternoon, advance parties dismantling the fences in their path. The usual camp was laid out to the southwest of the ridge, in what would become the rear if the enemy advanced from the expected direction. Instead of pitching their tents right away, however, officers told off their companies to form work parties, and long lines of men slogged through the rocks and undergrowth onto the hill. The sound of axes was soon everywhere, an irregular rhythm like rain on a slate roof.

By the time Marcus had sorted out the day’s snags and made certain the baggage train was going to the right place, the work was well along. He rode up the hill on a track that the men had hacked through the thick bushes. At the top, a ranker took his mount, and Marcus hiked on foot to the crook in the ridge where the Girls’ Own would be deployed.

The forest was thinning out quickly. There were stumps everywhere, and stripped logs stacked beside the path, while the teams of axmen fanned out in search of more prey. Marcus walked past the crest of the hill and stopped, taken aback for a moment. The slope writhed, as though it were alive, like a patch of dirt crawling with ants.

Here and there were groups of soldiers in uniform, officers directing the work. The rankers carried shovels instead of muskets, and they were shifting dirt with impressive speed, digging out pits and piling the earth in front of them to make a rampart. They were far outnumbered, however, by the civilians, men and women from the city who’d come out with nothing more than work clothes and tools. They were everywhere, burrowing through the hillside like moles. As he watched, a half dozen stout women in dockworkers’ leathers roped themselves to a tree stump and yanked it out of the earth, clods of dirt clinging to the trailing roots. The rocks uncovered by the diggers were piled between the trenches and carried by relays of youths to be stacked down at the base of the hill, where they could be an obstacle.

“Enthusiastic, aren’t they?”

Marcus turned to find Abby approaching. Winter’s return had apparently done her a world of good. At the very least, the dead look had gone from her eyes, though she still had the thick, dark circles underneath.

“It’s impressive,” Marcus said. “Will it be ready by tomorrow?”

“More or less,” Abby said. “We could do more, with more time. But with all the volunteers helping, we should have a triple breastwork across the whole front, assuming we have enough timber. I’d like to dig a second line, but this ground is full of rocks.” She kicked the soil, as though it had personally offended her.

“We’ll need space for the gun pits in front, remember,” Marcus said.

“Don’t worry,” Abby said. “The Preacher and his hellion were marking out distances when we got here. And the girls are very eager to have some cannon around.”

The Preacher’s here? Marcus hadn’t realized that. I suppose I’ve been a bit preoccupied. “Good. Anything you need from me?”

“If you have a moment, it would help if some of the ax companies cut more trails up and over the crest, then down to the cutters’ stations. We don’t want to be tripping over bushes when we’re pulling casualties out of here.”

“I’ll see to it.” Marcus smiled. “It’s good to see you feeling better, Colonel.”

“Well.” Abby blushed. “I apologize for making you fret, sir.”

Marcus walked back up the hill, satisfied that section of the work was well in hand. It was the most critical part, the tip of the V, where the heaviest attack could be expected to land. More trenches lined the flanks of the hill, petering out where it sloped down onto the flats. Here the line would have to be more mobile, and they didn’t have the spare manpower to extend a full breastwork over such a distance. Still, men were digging gun pits, sloped at the back and deep enough to provide some shelter for the cannoneers. When a cannon fired, its recoil would drive it up the ramp, and then gravity would help run it back into position.

Just past the bottom of the slope was the boundary of the first plowed field, marked by a fieldstone wall that was already mostly dismantled. Immediately beyond it was the cutter’s station for the Second Division, several large tents with their sides tied open, operating tables already set up inside. Around them, lower tents were ready to shelter the wounded, at least until the beds filled up.

Hannah Courvier, the Second’s head cutter, was standing outside one of the tents, talking to a thin young man Marcus didn’t recognize. To his surprise, Raesinia was with them, accompanied by her two Girls’ Own bodyguards. Marcus went over in time to catch Hannah’s frown.

“Well.” She looked at the young man, then back to Raesinia. “I don’t hold with foreign mumbo ​jumbo, but you come highly recommended. Can you do anything with a broken foot? We’ve got a light cavalry lieutenant who fell off his horse.”

“I will do my best.” The young man glanced at Marcus and nodded. “General.”

Marcus nodded back. Hannah stomped away, and the young man followed. Raesinia looked up at Marcus. “How are the preparations going?”

“Well, for the moment. If they come tomorrow, we’ll be ready. It would be better if we had one more day...”

“But you don’t think he’ll give us that,” Raesinia said.