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The Praetorian
Part 3
Four tense days passed before the remaining half of Marshal Wallace’s battalion set out. Captain Duncan Milius led his company in a steady march southward, the eastern end of the Alpas Mountains looming before them. There had been no contact with Alren’s and Lecy’s companies. No progress updates, no scouting reports. Duncan shrugged — according to the plan, there should be no sign of their flanking units until the enemy was practically upon the main force.
Wallace had ordered Duncan and Captain Eliss Blaine to deploy their troops into standard defensive formations. Each company marched in a square, with three infantry squads forming double lines on each side: eighteen pikes in every outer line and eighteen swords forming every inner line. In the middle of the squares were the companies’ command teams (Wallace marched with Blaine), their attendants and the supply carts, as well as four squads of archers.
The road was just wide enough for the formations to pass, though Duncan had argued that smaller groups would allow for greater mobility and spontaneity — should they be attacked en route, platoons could be redeployed more quickly and efficiently than whole companies could. Wallace had opted instead for a more traditional defense.
They were progressing very slowly. Duncan’s company marched ahead of Blaine’s, and he instructed his front lines to be on the lookout for the scouts he had sent ahead as warning against any advance. Thus far, the scouts had been reporting regularly that there were no hints of the flanking companies, enemy forces, or signs of battle. Duncan considered the possibilities: the flanking companies had not yet met the enemy; they had been forced to hole up inside Ravelin; or their troops had been completely wiped out — a possibility that no Praetorian ever considered.
As they marched, many soldiers shifted their gear uncomfortably. Every person carried a backpack that contained a bedroll, rations, a sewing kit, extra leather patches for their armor, and basic medical supplies like bandages and tourniquets. Their bedrolls were water-resistant and had built-in head coverings. This was the standard issue for every Praetorian. Although it was generally understood that a tour of duty in the Federated States meant a greater risk to one’s life, troops assigned to other parts of Halcyon were envious of the fact that in the forests of the Federate they didn’t have to march with an ungainly backpack and heavy steel armor.
Leather protection may have made for easier travel, but this thought was far from the minds of those who marched to Fort Ravelin. With every new step, the tension increased. With every negative report, the soldiers’ anxiety deepened. Their training kept their emotions in check, but no amount of preparation could suppress the human need for action. They could deal with the notion of being a small force facing superior numbers — it was a fact of life in the Praetorship and a source of pride that they enjoyed such success in spite of it. To the contrary, the apprehension on the road to Ravelin stemmed from the unknown. Had their companions engaged the enemy? Had they faced death honorably? Duncan had often remarked that the worst part of battle was waiting for the fight to begin. He decided to ease the tension by starting a marching tune. Soon, every soldier in both companies was humming along. Duncan knew he would hear about it later from Wallace. The marshal considered singing a distraction.
It was midmorning now and the weather was clear, just as it had been for the last two days. The coniferous forest spilled over onto the side of the road. Pines stretched up from the ground in light clumps — many of them were as tall as a two-story building. The ground was frozen but not hard. There had already been one spring thaw, though most farmers were saying that there was still time for one last gasp from winter before it was finally chased away for the year. The air was chill but refreshing.
And a good thing, too, mused Duncan. It’ll keep the troops alert.
The captain looked about uncomfortably. This place was too still. He signaled a halt and the troops obeyed his command immediately. A second later Blaine’s company stopped as well. The echoes of the marching and singing faded away. Now there was no noise at all — the area around the road was completely silent. Duncan beckoned to two privates and ordered them to boost him up. They cupped their hands at their waists and hoisted him above their shoulders. At the same time, the troops readied their weapons: the infantry set their pikes, balanced their shields and steadied their swords, and the archers loaded their bows and prepared to fire. Blaine’s company did the same. Everyone awaited Duncan’s next move.
He stood above his privates’ shoulders and surveyed the scene. His searching gaze swept slowly and methodically over their surroundings. There was no movement in the forest, no natural sounds of animals or insects. It was as if the wildlife had been evacuated. Duncan suddenly felt out of place in the forest in which he was raised. Something was wrong — he could sense it right in front of him. He knew the answer was there, but his mind danced around it.
Blaine silently placed her company on high alert while Wallace watched Duncan intently. Didn’t he know that he was exposing himself needlessly by raising himself over the heads of his troops? He glanced at Blaine, who shrugged. They would have to wait and see what Milius was up to, and hope that a Hansic archer hadn’t managed to slip past their scouts.
Duncan returned to the ground and ordered the second infantry line from his rear flank to reinforce the front. Blaine and Wallace merged the second company with Duncan’s into one long rectangular formation. The three senior officers met in the middle.
“What did you see?” whispered Wallace.
“I don’t know,” answered Duncan. “I just had a feeling, that’s all.”
“What kind of feeling?”
Duncan shook his head. “It’s hard to describe. It’s an intuition that hits me whenever I enter battle. I felt like we were being studied.”
“Studied? What the hell is that supposed to mean? You’re a professional soldier! If I want to know what someone feels, I’ll consult a psychic. Give me hard data, not intuition!”
“Sorry, sir, it’s just that I’ve come to learn to trust my instincts, and I’m telling you that that something’s out there watching us.”
Wallace surveyed the pine trees that stretched above them along the sides of the road. “No-one’s reported any movement. There’s nothing here.”
“That’s the problem, sir.”
Wallace and Blaine looked questioningly at him. Duncan was getting desperate. He knew this was his last chance to sway Wallace. “Look, I know you don’t trust me because I’m Teivan —” Wallace glared at him “— but you have to believe me. I know things about this forest that you don’t. I can detect subtle signs… the movement of animals and insects, disturbance of leaves, certain kinds of trails designed to look real but they’re not—”
The marshal grabbed Duncan by his collar and pulled him close. He whispered harshly, “Listen carefully, Captain, because I’m not going to repeat myself. I am responsible for seven hundred and sixty-eight lives. I don’t care about overturned leaves or footprints on the ground!”
“Then listen to someone who does. We’re being tracked.”
Wallace released Duncan. “Tracked…”
A moment passed while the marshal considered his options.
Stay tuned for the next chapter…
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