Chapter Thirty

  The army encamped north of the city of Vurun across three hills that held a commanding view of the valley and cut the north road. These were the hills upon which Kurush had camped when he had taken the city from the north. Dryden saw now why he had done so. It was a strong tactical position, with good access to northern supply lines. The An-Beya army had not even possessed any significant artillery with which to fully exploit this position. Haddock’s army did. Colonel East deployed his two batteries of artillery aggressively, with one poised to strike the city and the other to strike the approaches to the hills which the army held. Yet they did not fire, they merely threatened the city. Colonel East had wanted to reduce the city immediately, to shoot molten exploding shot into the slums on the outskirts when the wind was from the northeast, to set blazes that might spread through the city. Haddock had refused, saying he wanted first to secure his position and make an attempt at diplomacy.

  Dryden and Havelock sat together at breakfast, going over a map of the western approaches to the city, and a hastily scrawled map of the canyons and ravines that spiderwebbed out from the Korum Mountains that made up the western boundary of the wider valley which was also called Vurun. The road to Settru Pass snaked southwest out of the city. Scouts had reported that numerous enemy units were withdrawing to the city now that Haddock’s force had appeared. There was still no word of where General Winslow at the V.A.C. army was.

  “Commander, if I take Khathan’s squadron, we could slip through these ravines here, as Kurush’s army did, and get round behind them. If we can link up with Winslow, it would be a boon to our effort.”

  Havelock looked across the rough sketch of a map and pursed his lips, “This map is shoddy at best. We know there are ravines there, yes, but we cannot be sure they go where we want. Besides, you said the roonies know these paths well. What is there to stop them ambushing you, instead of you getting by them unseen?”

  “They take the main roads now that they control the land, these paths should be clear of the enemy now. They were certainly well hidden enough when they used them to ambush us.”

  “Why do they use the main roads if these are faster?”

  “They’re not faster than taking the main road to Settru, only faster than a mass of people thick with women and children and hampered by doddering old generals,” Dryden insisted, “We can get through to Winslow here. If we can link up with them, we can hem these bastards in like they did to us.”

  “They can still go south.”

  “No, that’s An-Guranji land. Unless they pacified those people too, then that land is still foreign to Kurush and An-Beya.”

  Havelock took a glass of gin and tonic that he had been nursing and downed the rest in one swig, “You should have had command, Dryden.” He said softly.

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  “Sir?” Dryden questioned in confusion.

  “You are a proper soldier, Dryden, a warrior even. You think as a soldier does, you even take command in battle, and I let you do so.”

  Dryden frowned, a commander ought not to admit such things, “Do not let others hear you speak thusly, it would not do for men to hear their commander say they are not fit for it, sir.”

  “I do little, you do much,” Havelock repeated sullenly. There was no one else to hear.

  “You are wrong, sir. The best officer I have ever served with told me, sir, that it is not the orders a man gives that matter. Once battle is engaged all plans go to shit. There are only two things that keep the men moving forward, sir, the sight of his officer riding fearlessly ahead, and the banner whipping high in the wind. Naught else matters as much as that.”

  “I suppose,” Havelock frowned, “I hesitate to give you Khathan’s squadron, though. I need a stout commander here on the right to hold the road if they try coming up it. Take your pick of Benton or Adams.”

  Dryden thought on it, Adams was a good man, affable and well-loved by the men, but he lacked grit. Benton on the other hand was fearless in battle, he had not the temperament of Khathan, but then few men did, “Benton. He’s the sort I need for this.”

  “Very well,” We will speak with Haddock.

  They did not have to wait long to see Haddock. The general’s tent overlooked the valley with a most splendid view of Vurun. Two grenadiers were guarding the entrance of the command tent as usual, their tall bearskin hats standing proud against the blue sky. Dryden and Havelock were ushered inside and sat opposite Haddock at his great desk.

  “What is it you propose?” The white-haired general asked of Dryden. He didn’t even look at Havelock.

  Dryden put the map sketched by his scouts onto the table, “I propose taking the second squadron of the 13th and riding to link up with General Winslow. I propose that we use these ravines to do it.”

  “Using the tool of our enemy against them. I always enjoy a bit of turnabout. I don’t like it, though.”

  Dryden sat back and frowned, “What’s not to like?”

  “You want to encircle the enemy, yes? Us from the north, Winslow from the west, the impassable peaks of the Shan to the east, and An-Guranji from the south, yes?”

  “You see through me, sir,” Dryden replied, he realized that perhaps his plan was too simple and that if it were so easy for Haddock to see, it might be easy too for Kurush.

  “You mistake me,” Haddock said smiling at him, “I like your initiative, Major, and the thrust of your sabre, but I wonder if your scope is too small.”

  “Oh?”

  “Indeed, I was pondering this very thought this morning. What if we did link up with Winslow, it would be the correct move from a broad perspective. It would not be the coup de grace that we need. We cannot besiege the city and hope to starve them out. The Fyrin army would attempt to relieve them, and while we might still have victory, it would come at a cost. Scouts say they have camped just on the other side of the Shan across from Zundak. No, we must come at them from all sides, and hard. Dryden, I am sending you and Captain Benton not only to link up with Winslow but to make contact with the remnants of whatever forces An-Guranji still possesses. Take Mar with you. Bring them up from the south. We strike Vurun on the seventh day. I’ve already written up your orders,” He handed the letter to Dryden, “It is not much time, but the hour is very late now. Ride hard. Do not spare the horses, do not let victory be the cost we pay for kindness.”