dictated that troopers ride with sabers drawn and shields enarmed in all unsecured territory, and though he believed the land to be in Polypontian hands, he’d received no confirmation of this and gave orders accordingly. As they rode forward, the broad sweep of the country came into view. Before them lay a wild and fierce land of broken rocks and scree slopes, and under the brilliant blue sky and dazzling sunshine it had an untamed beauty that made the young officer shudder. If the people were anything like the country they inhabited, then the Polypontus would have a worthy opponent.
They rode into the land in battle order and followed the road that swept down from the pass. Soon they came across evidence of resistance to the invading army’s advance, with dead horses and broken equipment lying where they’d fallen or been dropped. Cassius Brontus was puzzled. Normal procedure was to clear away debris after a skirmish, unless, of course, the army was under heavy pressure. His troops rode by with hardly a second glance at the flotsam of battle. Their forces had been hard pressed before and always they’d been victorious.
But soon they passed more broken equipment, then the burned-out remains of four supply wagons and even six cannons, their carriages charred and blackened and their barrels broken by what must have been amazingly ferocious hammering. Cassius Brontus called a halt and ordered his command to load their long-barreled cavalry pistols. Each trooper carried two in holsters on either side of their saddles. Once this was done they set off again, but this time the young officer sent out scouts and outriders to check the way ahead.
Within five minutes the outriders were racing back along the road calling out that the battlefield lay ahead. Cassius Brontus was relieved. Obviously the Polypontian army had brought the enemy to bay early, and at least he and his troops wouldn’t have far to ride before they were assigned their quarters. But at this point the scouts appeared on the road, riding with great urgency and looking back over their shoulders as they came on. The officer immediately put his troops on alert.
“All dead, sir! They’re all dead!” the scouts called as they thundered back to the regiment. They halted wild-eyed before him in a flurry of loose stones and rearing horses.
“Report clearly!” Cassius Brontus ordered sharply. “Who are dead? How many and where?”
“The entire invasion force, sir. Half a mile farther on.”
The shock of their words left him numb. An entire Polypontian army wiped out? Impossible! “You’re wrong! There may be some soldiers of the Polypontus mixed with the fallen, but you must have seen the remains of the Icemark’s army.”
“Yes, sir. They’re there, too. We saw their battle standard fallen with ours.”
“Our battle standard fallen!”
“Yes, sir. It’s held by the corpse of a giant red-bearded man in fine armor. Our standard-bearer lies dead beneath him.”
In the silence of his shock the young officer reached the obvious conclusion. The two armies had wiped each other out, and the description of the giant red-bearded warrior fit that of Redrought, King of the Icemark.
Recovering quickly, he sent two messengers with news of the disaster back through the pass and then ordered his troops to advance in battle formation. His agile mind was working quickly. The Icemark had probably risked all on wiping out the invading army and most likely would have nothing left to defend the land. It was wide open for the taking, and if he acted quickly enough, the name of Cassius Brontus would live forever in the Empire of the Polypontus. For one thing, he knew the heir to the throne of this little land was a mere girl of thirteen or fourteen. Who was protecting her now? A few of their barbaric housecarls? An assorted ragbag of half-trained soldiers of the fyrd? He had an entire regiment of battle-hardened and disciplined cavalry troopers with him. If he seized the moment now, he could ride for the palace and capture the girl. A puppet monarch set on the throne of a client kingdom by a mere cohort of the invading army. He’d be made for life! Promotion, perhaps his own army. And in later years maybe even a seat on the Senate.
He ordered the pace up to a canter, the rattle of the horses’ hooves echoing in the narrow canyon through which the road now wound. Then the rocky walls fell away, and the highway burst onto a wide plateau, stark under