Scavian scowled at him resentfully, but said nothing.
‘What about their guns?’ Emily asked.
She received a decidedly frosty look from Lascari – from Pordevere and Mallarkey even – but the colonel just shook his head amiably.
‘I’m afraid there really aren’t any magic guns, Miss Marshwic.’
Sergeant Marshwic to you. ‘But, Colonel—’
‘We even took a look at one,’ Mallarkey said. ‘We took it apart. Wasted time doing so, Miss Marshwic. They’re no different to our own.’
That’s not true. She said nothing; what would be the use? She had already made sure that at least all of Stag Rampant knew that the Denlanders had a new trick.
‘Well, now, Captain Mallarkey,’ the colonel said. ‘As Leopard is the largest company, I’m using you as the other pincer of the . . . the other half of the pincer. Move in on the west; keep a little behind the others. Once they engage, I want you to swing round like this . . .’
*
She found Tubal crouching low in a stand of reeds with some twenty or thirty soldiers about him. ‘What’s going on?’ she asked.
‘I was hoping you could tell me.’ The crackle and bang of muskets sounded all around like green logs on a fire. ‘I’ve lost sight of Fat Squirrel altogether.’ He looked around, biting at his lower lip. ‘I’m . . . going to need some scouts. We need to rejoin the others.’
A circle of grave faces met him. Nobody was volunteering.
Oh, damn it. ‘I’ll go,’ said Emily.
‘No—’
‘Then who, Tubal? I want one more with me.’
A soldier she vaguely recognized put her hand up then, shamed into it perhaps.
‘Then let’s go.’
As she stood up, the firing started, shot whipping past her and into the reed stand.
‘Back! Fall back!’ Tubal raised his gun and fired almost at random, and led them all in a retreat towards more solid cover. Even as they put tree trunks between them and the source of the shooting, another four or five squads of Lascanne redjackets – almost a hundred in total – came into sight, pausing to aim and fire. Five or six dropped instantly, but the rest discharged their guns, shredding the foliage and the ferns before them, then crouching to reload. Without hesitation Tubal led his band to join up with them.
‘Who’s got command?’ he shouted, as he recharged his gun.
‘Me, sir, but you’re welcome to it.’ A Bear Sejant ensign hopped down next to him. ‘I don’t know where the captain is. My whole division got separated. The Denlanders are everywhere, sir.’
‘Hell, someone tell me which way’s east.’
There was a brief consensus, and directions were given.
‘We’ll head forward but slant eastaways, try to get ourselves back with the pack,’ Tubal announced. ‘Everyone loaded and ready?’
Nobody said otherwise, so they made their break: jogging through the swamp, the mud and water, keeping their guns trained on the Denlanders’ last position.
They had another brief skirmish with a small band of Denlanders who fired and retreated before them, three rounds of musketry before they were driven away. Then they were out in a clearing, where a battle was in full sway.
Must be the bulk of the Bear. All Emily caught was the idea of a solid body of men that was punched full of holes, with individual squads in their own cover, firing defiantly into the trees. She thought she heard the voice of Marie Angelline, but the woman’s words escaped her.
‘Sir, behind us!’ the Bear ensign called out.
‘They’re trying to flank. Every man take a firing position. We’ve run far enough.’ Tubal knelt and readied his gun. ‘Where the hell is the Leopard?’
A moment later the Denlanders were coming out of the trees and, for once, it was them walking into the ambush, as nearly two hundred guns of the army of Lascanne roared out simultaneously and scythed through them, casting them down and strewing their bodies about in the pools, over the banks and the mounded roots.
‘Reload!’ Tubal ordered, but Emily heard the command of Captain Pordevere from behind them, exhorting his men to charge.
‘We’re about to lose our back,’ she warned. There were shots punching past them now, as the Denlander flanking party pulled itself back together. In the clearing there was a fearful noise. She would never forget it: the sound of three hundred men and women running forward into the swift, accurate guns of Denland.
Oh, Marie. Be safe, Marie.
Her own division fired again, but their targets were now hidden and well spaced.