At the top of the ridge, Verkan and his Mounted Rifles were lying in. ambush for an advance arm of the Grand Host. According to Kalvan's scouts, there was a large detachment of cavalry and infantry, fifteen to twenty thousand troops, which was attempting to threaten the Army of Hos-Hostigos from the northeast. Kalvan had sent Verkan and the Mounted Rifles to the northeast, and two other brigades of Hostigi cavalry to the east. Whichever detachment ran into the enemy was to send messengers to bring the others on the run.
Verkan, as he checked the priming pan of his new eight-bore Hostigos rifle, scanned the opposite ridge for the first sign of the enemy. According to Mounted Rifle scouts, a combined Harphaxi and Ktemnoi cavalry force was within three and a half marches, as the Hostigi called it. He wished he could consult Kirv, but local spy-eyes were out of the question due to the clear weather, which was ideal for contrails. This was no time for transtemporal contamination, not with so many Hostigi close by. Verkan was under no illusions about outtimer inferiority; the men of the Royal Hostigos Mounted Rifles were just as savvy and intelligent as any squad of Paratime Police. The Zarthani might be less educated and technologically backward, but never inferior.
As much as he enjoyed a good fight, this time Verkan had hoped that it wouldn't be the Mounted Rifles who would make first contact. Verkan had placed his command at a critical juncture, the last mountain pass before the Kythros Valley, the one Kalvan-when he was in his cups-called the Nittany Valley. If the Styphoni took this pass they could overrun the Foundry, with the First Level Study Team, and cut Kalvan off from Hostigos Town. Both would result in a disaster, one a political bomb for Verkan back on Home Time Line, the other a major setback for Kalvan's beleaguered army.
Verkan had been a student of military history since his first posting as a Paratime Police cadet over a hundred years ago when the War Between the States was raging on time-lines throughout Europo-American, Hispano Columbian Subsector. For a few decades he'd read everything he could find on warfare, until he met Dalla-then his life took a much more interesting and less predictable turn. Still, he was very aware of the challenge posed to Kalvan by this Grand Host, the largest army ever raised on Aryan-Transpacific, Styphon's House Subsector.
The Hostigi were in an ordered retreat after rushing into eastern Beshta only to find the Grand Host deep inside Hos-Hostigos, less than twenty miles from the border of Sashta. Instead of fighting a pitched battle against an overwhelming force, Kalvan had chosen to fall back. Verkan was well aware of just how much that had rankled Kalvan and the Hostigi regulars who were used to setting the pace and forcing opposing armies to dance to their tune.
The Grand Host was even larger than the first estimates compiled by Hostigi intelligence; anywhere from one hundred thousand to one hundred and twenty-five thousand men were the numbers that had been bandied around at Kalvan's War Council. Overhead surveillance and some groundwork by the Harphax City Study Team had given him an estimated figure of one hundred and forty thousand combatants. The army of sutlers and camp followers following the Grand Host was estimated to be twice that number!
One of his sergeants came by and offered him a canteen of winter wine. Verkan took a deep drink. All this waiting was thirsty work, not to mention time consuming. And time was something he didn't have a lot of these days, especially with all the work he had left waiting back at Paratime Police HQ. This year's Year-End Day riots had been the worst in a millennium. The radical wing of the Prole Liberation Movement was claiming credit, while the establishment center of the PLM was decrying the riots and blaming them on citizen anti-prole prejudice.
There was still no sign of Dallas brother, Hadron Tharn, on First Level or any of his other regular haunts. Tharn had, however, stripped several of his holding companies of their assets through intermediaries, causing turmoil in the Home Time Line stock market. He was now the Number One fugitive topping both the Dhergabar Metropolitan Police and Paratime Police's most wanted lists.
Verkan's thoughts flashed back to the here-and-now when he spotted a small cloud of dust and half a dozen Hostigi scouts rode over the ridge and down into the valley. The scouts reached friendly lines and were tucked out of sight before the twenty-five to thirty enemy cavalry, with red and yellow helmet-plumes, followed behind. Verkan signaled his men to hold their fire. Not only was the Harphaxi detachment out of rifle range, but also he didn't want to warn the main body of the Mounted Rifles presence.
"Sergeant Ryff, bring these scouts to my tent at once!"
After Ryff left at a fast trot, Verkan gave a First Level hand signal to Captain Dalon, who was his Paratime Police assistant in this battle, now that Ranthar Jard was in Hos-Bletha with Kalvan's Insurrection Group. Dalon Sath had fought with Colonel Ranthar in the Army of the Trygath and had distinguished himself enough to win the rank of captain-Kalvan was very generous at rewarding faithful and decisive subordinates. Dalon was a master tech and in charge of the Beshtan observation sky-eyes.
Even though they were out of voice range of the locals, Verkan spoke in First Level, assuming that anyone who overheard them would believe it to be his native Grefftscharrer tongue. "Sath, I want you to change the setting on the sky-eye; I want to know what's coming over that ridge. Then contact Kirv at the Foundry and tell him to batten down the hatches."
Dalon Sath shook his head. "That's going to be tough, Chief. We've got the anti-gravity spotter almost within visual range now-"
"I don't care anymore. Our need for information overrides any transtemporal violation. If any indigenes see the satellite they'll just assume it's a portent of the coming battle. We need to know what's coming over those ridges. I'm not worried about some dirt farmer talking about Styphon's Eye in the Sky! Do it!"
"Yes sir, Chief."
When the Harphaxi scouting party reached the valley bottom they stopped to water their horses and fill their water flasks. Two of the enemy scouts threw off their buckskins and jumped into the creek, shouting and whooping it up. The Mobile Force sergeants ran up and down the line of riflemen making sure no one took a pot shot.
When Ryff returned with the scouts, Verkan debriefed them.
"Sir, there's a couple thousand Styphoni-even a band of Red Hand- coming our way."
After squeezing the scouts dry of what little information they had, he returned to the ridge to wait for the Harphaxi. The wait seemed interminable, but Verkan knew only ten or fifteen minutes had passed when the main body topped the rise and rode over the crest. As the Harphaxi cavalry moved into the valley the horsemen kept coming and coming and Verkan realized they were facing ten or twelve thousand horse. Many of the forward horsemen were light cavalry, with breastplates or leather jerkins, javelins and swords; but the majority wore the three-quarter-lobster armor of the cuirassier. Verkan wished he had a small battery of the heavy sixteen-pounders with explosive shells; they could have harvested a bloody crop on the much larger Harphaxi force.
Verkan had organized his Mobile Riflemen into three battalions, each containing three one-hundred man companies. The battalions were to fire in rotating volleys while the remaining HQ Company of sharpshooters fired at targets of opportunity-mainly officers and pockets of resistance.
He shouted, "ONE!" A single boom rolled through the valley, ripping through the Harphaxi men and horses alike. Taken by complete surprise, the Harphaxi detachment boiled, musketoons and pistols firing in every direction. Horses dropped and men spilled to the ground. "TWO!" Another volley, followed by a third, fourth and fifth, tore through the mass of enemy horsemen. His riflemen were using the new Minie balls and paper cartridges, which gave them the fastest rate of fire this time-line had ever seen.
The Harphaxi horsemen, with their red and yellow plumes, began to reform-even under the withering fire of the Mounted Rifles-and began to ride up the ridge. Still more riders came over the far ridge. Now Verkan could make out their shouting, "Down Kalvan! Down Kalvan!"
Verkan signaled his sergeants to stop firing and prepare for a single volley. The volley tore through the Harphaxi lines like a reaper through a fresh field. Suddenly, the wind changed and everything was obscured by swirling smoke. When the air cleared, the Harphaxi were half again as far up the ridge. The Mounted Rifles fired another volley and the leading riders went down in mass, the survivors jumping off their horses and scrambling close to the ground. Then the wind changed direction again and all he could see was roiling gray gunpowder smoke.
By the time the air had cleared again, a trooper had scrambled up the ridge and was pointing a bell-mouthed musketoon in his face. Captain Dalon shot him point-blank in the face with his horsepistol-even before Verkan could flinch.
"FIRE!" shouted Sergeant Ryff. The falling trooper and his companions, who'd lost their mounts and fought on foot, disappeared in a wash of red blood and swirling gray smoke. Verkan ran his sword point past the nasal guard and into the eye of one trooper trying to liberate a rifle from a fallen officer. The next volley fired through a scrum of patchy smoke and attacking cavalrymen. It took three more ragged volleys to clear the ridge and force the dismounted Harphaxi troopers into a retreat, signaled by the bellow of Harphaxi war horns.
Verkan had the healers and Uncle Wolfs brought to the front lines to remove the wounded and dead Hostigi on litters made of poles and blankets. Friendly casualties were surprisingly light. The enemy dead and wounded lay strewn over the hillside by the hundreds. The screams of wounded men and horses split the air.
The retreating Harphaxi reformed out of rifle range on the opposing hillside. Enemy reinforcements continued to join the main battle in small and large groupings, many of them dragoons. This was going to turn into a real rough-and-tumble if some Hostigi reinforcements didn't show up soon.
He walked down the line talking to his troopers giving them encouragement and making jokes at Styphon's expense. "How many Styphoni does it take to fire a musket?" he asked. "You don't know, do you? Five: one lower-priest to fill the pan with fireseed, one temple highpriest to push down the striker, one Archpriest to put fireseed and drop the bullet down the barrel and use the rammer, one Red Hand to fire it, and one Holy Investigator to hold the target!" It hadn't been half so funny back in camp, but here it drew gales of laughter.
He had time to smoke and refill his pipe twice before the Harphaxi cavalry formed up for their second attack.