Page 90 of The Infernal Battalion

The other trooper came at Cyte, weapon raised. As he swung, she cut in front of him, forcing his mount to stumble in the moment his attack left him off-​balance. One of his legs came free of his stirrup, and the trooper dropped his sword and clung desperately to his saddle as he tried to right himself. His horse slowed, falling behind.

Cyte dropped back herself, toward Marcus, drawing her slim weapon. Marcus moved toward the remaining trooper before he noticed her, and sabers clashed again. With his clumsy sword work Marcus couldn’t maintain the offensive for long, and the cavalryman was getting the better of him when Cyte came alongside and slid her rapier in between his ribs. He went stiff as she whipped the sword free, then slumped forward over his mount’s neck, the horse slowing in confusion. I guess you can use a rapier from horseback if you know what you’re doing.

“How’d you know?” Cyte said, sheathing her weapon. Marcus didn’t even try that trick at a full gallop.

“Know what?” he said, feeling a little dazed.

“That General Solwen had turned traitor!”

Marcus shook his head. “He hasn’t!” It felt obscurely important to defend Val’s honor. In that moment, it first occurred to Marcus that his friend was probably dead, or at the very least a captive. His throat went tight. “I’ll explain later! General Kurot needs to know before it’s too late.”

*

By the time they reached Kurot, perched on the crest of the tallest hill in the area, it very much looked like it might be too late.

From the slope, they could see the whole battlefield stretching out before them. Marcus could understand why Kurot had chosen this spot, although it was a little far from the line. It offered an unparalleled view, from Marcus’ own troops on the far right to de Manzet’s on the left. And, directly ahead of them, the camp of the “Third Division.”

Marcus’ escape must have told whoever was in command there that the game was up. His four regiments were forming up and turning to their right, ready to descend on de Manzet’s line. At the same time, more blue columns were advancing from the front, silver eagle flags fluttering. De Manzet was about to be under attack from two directions, every commander’s worst nightmare.

“General!” Marcus reined to a halt on the hilltop, his horse blowing. Kurot was surrounded by his staff, staring through a spyglass at the surprise attack below, looking from the map to the terrain and back again in consternation. A corporal came over to take Marcus’ reins, and he got down, legs aching. He gave his mare an apologetic look. “Take care of her, will you?”

The corporal nodded and led the exhausted horse away. Marcus hurried in Kurot’s direction. “General Kurot!”

“General d’Ivoire.” Kurot was staring through a spyglass. “I’m surprised to find you away from your men.”

“I went to the Third Division, sir, to confirm that General Solwen understood today’s plan.” Out of the corner of his eye, Marcus saw Cyte come up to his side.

“Ah.” Kurot lowered the spyglass. “That explains the timing of his treachery. I daresay he’s sprung his trap a little early.”

“It’s not him, sir. That’s not the Third Division. They must have been ambushed, and Janus snuck his own men into place.”

“That’s impossible,” Kurot snapped, then frowned slightly. “He’d have to know our plans in detail. If someone is feeding him information—” The general’s brow furrowed for a moment, and then his expression cleared. “No matter. Whether it is the Third Division or a set of impostors, the damage is done, and it is for us to handle it.”

“Tell de Manzet to retreat,” Marcus said. “Give-Em-Hell can cover him with an attack on the flanking division, and Fitz and I will fall back to match. We’ll form a solid line to meet whatever Janus has coming.”

Kurot’s face darkened. “I appreciate the advice, General, but I believe I know my business here.” He raised the glass again. “If we retreat, without the Third Division we cannot hope to seal the gap between the rivers. Janus can maneuver around us and escape.”

“But—”

“Furthermore,” Kurot said, “his forces must necessarily be low on supplies, as we are now in possession of their lines of communication. This has the feel of a last, desperate gambit.”

It doesn’t. This is how Janus fights his battles—​with every means at his disposal. Marcus shook his head. Kurot isn’t listening. He straightened up.

“What do you want me to do, sir?”

“Push forward. I will detach General Stokes to your assistance. You and General Warus are to break through whatever’s in front of you and advance to the Daater and the gates of Alves.”

“What about de Manzet?”

Kurot clearly didn’t like being questioned, but he grated, “He will be ordered to hold his ground, and the artillery reserve will support him. Once you get in the rear of the forces opposing him, they will be compelled to surrender.”

“I don’t think Janus will surrender—”

“He will have to,” Kurot snapped. “He has made his move. It is a clever one; I admit it. But I have the countermove, and once he sees that he is outmatched, he will be compelled to give in. Even Janus bet Vhalnich is not immune to the rules of war!”

“Yes, sir,” Marcus said. God save us from clever officers. All he wanted now was to get back to his men before things got worse. “Understood, sir. I will convey your instructions to General Warus.”

“Please do.” Kurot stared down at the developing battle. “You are dismissed, General.”