Page 186 of The Infernal Battalion

“I wouldn’t,” Marcus said simply.

“Winter says she’s ready as well,” Raesinia said. “But she doesn’t know how long it will take, once the battle starts.”

“I’m assuming we’re going to have to hold out until dark,” Marcus said. “After that, we should be able to break contact and retreat down the road to Vordan City.”

“It won’t come to that,” Raesinia said.

“No harm in being prepared. We don’t know exactly what will happen, even if Winter wins.”

Raesinia nodded, her eyes distant, as though she were lost in thought.

*

There were more lines to inspect, more preparations to confirm. Marcus caught up with the Preacher as the sun was setting. Torches lit the way for the final preparations of the artillery.

“Oh, Almighty Karis, preserve us.” The artilleryman’s rasping voice was audible most of the way down the hill. “Captain! What kind of cannon is this?”

The answer was impossible to hear, but the Preacher’s response was clear.

“Correct! And it fires twelve-​pound balls, is that right?” Another pause, and then, “So what, exactly, were you planning to do with these boxes of eight-​pound balls? Hurl them at the enemy with your bare hands? Do you think you might find somewhere they could be put to slightly better use?”

Marcus grinned as an anxious captain dashed past him. A moment later, he found the Preacher standing beside a cannon, running his fingers through his long gray beard.

“General!” The Preacher saluted.

“Colonel,” Marcus said with a nod. “I didn’t know you were here.”

“Well.” The Preacher rolled his shoulders with a sigh. “I said I was getting too old for this, but young Viera disagrees, and she’s a hard one to argue with.” He grinned crookedly. “Besides, your lads came to the school and hauled all the cannon away. I didn’t have anything left to teach with. Or any students, for that matter.”

“Sorry. Most of the artillery was captured at Alves. We need all the metal we can get.”

The Preacher waved a hand, then patted the barrel of the gun next to him. “This is what they’re for, not moldering away on a drill field.” His face went dark. “I only wish it were infidels we were pointing them at, and not Vordanai.”

“I think everyone here agrees with that,” Marcus said. “Let’s hope this will be the end of it.” He frowned. “Do you want a command? I’m sure—”

The Preacher shook his head. “Colonel Archer offered, but I thought I could serve best as an aide. Dispensing my expertise, as it were.” He glared at the errant boxes stacked nearby. “Ammunition is going to be a problem. Some of these guns are older than I am, and we’ve got balls in a half dozen obsolete sizes to deal with. We can’t be spendthrift.”

“You’ll manage,” Marcus said. “At least we’ve got decent ground.”

“No complaints there.” The Preacher looked out at the darkening horizon, where the flat fields stretched into the distance. “But ground isn’t everything. I’m leading a service tonight, if you have time.”

“I’ll try to make it,” Marcus said, though he knew he wouldn’t, and suspected the Preacher did, too. It was an old dance between the two of them.

“Colonel!” Viera stalked up from farther down the hill, her blue uniform spotted and stained with mud. “Are you lazing about?”

“He’s obliging the general,” Marcus said.

Viera paused at the sight of him, saluted, and then turned on the Preacher. “They’re making a mess of things down at the third battery. When I pointed it out, one of them patted me on the head.” She sniffed. “I considered tossing a torch into their caisson to administer a sharp lesson, but I didn’t want to waste the ammunition.”

“That was probably wise. Karis teaches us mercy, even for the lowest.” The Preacher sighed. “Give me a moment.”

He turned back to Marcus, who grinned. “Try not to let her blow anything up.”

“Oh, I’ve given up on that. I just try to keep her pointed in the general direction of the enemy.” His smiled faded. “I meant to ask you, when I got the chance. Do you know what happened to General Solwen?”

Val. He and his men had been taken by surprise before the Battle of Alves. Marcus shook his head. “Captured, I hope. I can’t imagine Janus ordering a slaughter, and Val at least wouldn’t fight against us.” Unless he’s out there right now with glowing red eyes...

“I will say a prayer for him,” the Preacher said. He saluted again. “With your permission?”