‘It worked out quite well, Gunda, and when something works, it doesn’t make much sense to change it.’
As always, Narasan’s army was roused by the sound of horns at first light the following morning, and immediately after breakfast they broke camp and began the march toward the pass which lay just ahead.
The ridge line could hardly be described as a mountain range, but was more in the nature of a string of relatively gentle hills rising up out of the flat plain of the southern reaches of the Empire. The soil appeared to be quite rocky, and the local nobility had evidently decided that trying to farm it would just be a waste of time and effort, so the hills were covered with fairly dense brush and clumps of stubby trees.
Narasan’s nephew Astal marched at the front of the ninth cohort, leading the army up the slope toward the narrow pass at the top of the ridge. As was customary, the bearer of the army banner marched just behind the young officer. The army’s reputation tended to make potential enemy armies a bit nervous, so Narasan always made a point of displaying the banner to ward off any misunderstandings.
Gunda was marching beside Commander Narasan to keep him advised of the terrain lying to the front.
‘Just exactly how narrow is that pass up there?’ Narasan asked Gunda.
‘It’s pretty skimpy, Narasan,’ Gunda replied. ‘I’d say maybe no more than fifteen men wide. If there was anything serious about this little outing, I’d probably recommend avoiding it altogether, but it’ll probably be all right in a situation like this. Astal’s going to have to break formation to get his men through. I hate these narrow places. It’s probably going to take us until long past midnight to get the entire army on through to the other side.’
‘Does the road widen out at all after it goes through the pass?’
‘Not enough to make much difference. It’s a good thing that the Duke of Tashan doesn’t have much in the way of an army. If there were opposing troops with any kind of experience, that pass up there could give us a lot of trouble.’
Narasan shaded his eyes from the newly-risen sun and squinted up toward the pass. The morning sky was clear blue, untarnished by any clouds, and the thick brush on the steep side of the ridge lay almost like a green carpet. It was one of those very pretty days.
Astal called the ninth cohort to a halt near the pass and issued the order to re-form in a crisply military tone. His soldiers assembled in a narrow ten-man-wide column, and then Astal took his place at the head of the column and gave the order to march.
Narasan felt a certain family pride. Astal was handling things exactly as they should be handled, and his men marched very well behind the crimson and gold army banner.
‘It’s going to take us all day and half the night to get on through to flat ground, Narasan,’ Gunda advised. ‘That pass isn’t really very steep, but that narrow section’s definitely going to slow us down.’ He vigorously rubbed at his receding hairline.
‘It’s not like we had some kind of appointment, Gunda,’ Padan reminded his friend. ‘We’ll get there when we get there.’
‘I know that,’ Gunda replied. ‘I just don’t like the idea of being all strung out like this. If somebody happened to jump us, we could be in a lot of trouble. I hate mountains.’
Padan shrugged. ‘Why don’t you go up there and order them to lie down, then? I don’t think they’ll listen to you, but it’ll give you something to do instead of standing around complaining about every little bump in the road.’
‘Very funny, Padan,’ Gunda growled. ‘Ha. Ha. Ha.’
‘You ought to work on your laugh just a bit, Gunda,’ Padan teased his friend. ‘It’s not really very convincing.’
The tedious business of marching through the narrow pass continued as the sun rose higher in the morning sky, and it was somewhat past mid-morning by the time the twelfth cohort had marched on through the pass at the top of the ridge line.
Then there was suddenly a great deal of noise coming from beyond the pass, and Narasan came to his feet in alarm. ‘Find out what’s happening!’ he shouted at Gunda.
‘On the way!’ Gunda replied sharply, running as fast as he could up the narrow road toward the pass. When he was about halfway up, a runner came down the road to meet him. They spoke for a few moments, and then Gunda spun about and ran back down, spouting sulphurous curses every step of the way. ‘We’ve got trouble, Narasan!’ he bellowed. ‘There’s an enemy force on the other side of that pass, and they’re attacking our people!’
‘Spread out!’ Narasan barked at his men. ‘Never mind the road! Move!’
The army fanned out and scrambled up the side of the ridge, but before the main force was even halfway up the north side, vast numbers of well-armed soldiers began to appear along the ridge-line on either side of the narrow pass.
‘I make it to be three armies, Narasan,’ Padan reported. ‘I don’t think we’ve got much chance of breaking through.’
‘We’ve got twelve cohorts on the other side, Padan!’
‘I don’t think so,’ Padan said bluntly. ‘I don’t hear any noise coming from over there, and that means that our cohorts are all dead.’ He peered up the ridge. ‘Those banners up there look very familiar, don’t they?’ he said from between clenched teeth. ‘The green one’s definitely the banner of Galdan’s army, and the blue one looks to belong to Forgak. I can’t quite make out that third one.’
‘Tenkla,’ Narasan said shortly.
‘Isn’t that interesting. We’ve defeated all three of those armies during the past year, and it looks like they’ve decided that it’s payback time. They’re probably working for short pay - just to get the chance to climb all over us. Do you want us to keep on charging?’
Narasan clenched his fists in a futile gesture of fury. ‘No,’ he replied in a choked voice. ‘There’s no point in that now. We’ve already lost twelve cohorts. This silly war wasn’t worth that. Sound the retreat, Padan. Let’s get the men out of here if we can.’
Narasan pushed his grief firmly behind him as he led his army in the retreat. It was obvious that his men had been very disappointed by his decision to fall back. They’d all had friends in the twelve lost cohorts, and the yearning for revenge hung over them as the army marched back to Imperial Kaldacin.
Narasan had lost friends and family members in previous wars, and he was certain that in time he’d be able to set his sorrow aside and go on with his life. What made his grief so sharp this time lay in the fact that the loss of Astal was his own fault. Had he not placed Astal at the head of the column, the boy would almost certainly still be alive. Under ordinary circumstances, the ninth cohort would not have led the march through the pass. Narasan painfully realized that many of his decisions had grown out of his own egotism. Astal had been the closest thing to a son Narasan would ever have, and he’d pushed the boy into situations he hadn’t yet been ready for as a way to boost his own image.