33 - Envy

We sent all but those we ransomed over Kamis, and claimed, as is our custom, a Lakan valley large enough to feed all those lost on this front in this war. Foreign scholars ask us how, if we were never the aggressors, Yeola-e acquired land from other nations. It was all gained this way, when we could, every fingerwidth the compensation for lives lost, which can never be regained. We take no more than has been taken from us, nor do we always win, but we’ve had a long time, one and a half millennia.

Tyeraha summoned Hurai to Leyere, and me with him, my ten among his guard. By then I’d read in a Lakan military history about a tribe to the northwest of Laka, the Kadril, who had countered the Lakan horse better than anyone else, the author wrote, by using three-man-height-long pikes with their butts set in the ground. The first five or six ranks of points extended beyond the first rank of warriors, who were in very close order lending the whole formation, which was fifteen ranks deep, great weight. It was deadly against horse or foot or anything that could not flank it.

Since we’d come up with nothing that worked well ourselves, Tyeraha, Hurai and Emao-e decided to try it. Each enormous spear had to be made out of two tree-trunks, since it would be too wasteful to whittle down a whole tree that tall, joined with a steel coupler; a drawing in the book showed this. Then we had to train up our pikers to wield something half again as long as they were used to, and work in the new formation.

The great battle expected there had not come yet. The Lakans had stopped marching upriver at Kantila once the snows became heavy, but left a garrison in Leyere. Plague does not distinguish the color of one’s skin; they caught it, and then through a messenger or supplies, I imagine, it spread to their army in Kantila.

So at the same time thirst-sickness had been plaguing our Lakans through the winter, fever had been plaguing Tyeraha’s, likewise halving their number. With those left of Emao-e’s army gathering together, and the reinforcements, our force matched theirs by spring, with five thousand pikers well-drilled in the Kadrini way. For the first time we could face them army-to-army on a plain.

I was too small and slight to be in a pike unit, of course, and so stayed with my ten in the heavy foot for the first Kadrini battle, close by the right edge of the right-most Kadril, in a hundred with Elera Shae-Tyeba of Terera, whom I knew very distantly, since he was from Terera, as our setakraseye. The whole army was ranged across the valley with its steep sides and on one end the river guarding our flank.

Confident as usual—maybe their general, Arzaktaj, hadn’t read the same book, or didn’t recognize the formation—the Lakan horse came charging. We’d set up the traditional Yeoli crossfire from archers on either wing; their countermeasure to that was always to get through it as fast as possible, losing a few, and engage, usually cutting easily through.

Not so easy this time. The valley floor had a slight slope, so I had a good view, as the entire vanguard line of the Lakan horse came to a dead halt, either from horses balking or being impaled if they didn’t, and the second rank of units all but piled into them. I remember the screams of horses, so much louder, longer and more terrible than those of the people, being uncomprehending.

Stopped, of course, they were at the mercy of the crossfire, and didn’t know what to do, the commanders bellowing conflicting orders to each other, until their general, Arzaktaj, pulled them back. Had I been commanding, I’d have had our wings of heavy foot on either side curl in to flank them rather than stand pat—what matter if we left gaps between the ends of our lines and the valley sides if their cavalry was trapped still?—or better still, had reserves behind on either side to fill in the gaps in case the rear horse rallied and charged around, having anticipated stopping them dead Kadri-style at the start. To see the horse so destroyed would have unnerved the Lakan foot, and that would have turned it into a rout. I’m sure I would have done that when I was twenty-three or twenty-four, knowing always to plan a battle from beginning to end more than one way, and having learned how to know how things would go. But I was still only sixteen, and not in a position to send suggestions that major to Emao-e on the field. We won anyway, forcing them into a fighting retreat, which we left off pushing when the valley widened out enough to thin us too much, in Emao-e’s opinion.

But now we had the problem that we wouldn’t be able to surprise them by being Kadril again, and of course Arzaktaj would charge his horse elsewhere. What we decided to do was split the Kadril into four and intersperse them along our whole line. If he tried to send the horse between any two, they’d close in from either side.

What he did instead—the next battle was a half-moon later—was order his foot to advance, holding his entire horse in reserve.

My hundred, then under the command of Elera Shae-Tyeba, of whom I knew little except that he was a few years older than me and from Terera, was near the center of the Yeoli line, my ten just to the right of a bloc of Kadril. Suddenly the Lakans before us fell back fighting, and Elera chased after them, ordering us to follow.

I had a bad feeling; the Lakans had changed too quickly and easily to retreating, it seemed to me, as if it were planned. I cursed my shortness, which kept me from seeing where we were in the forest of warriors. The oldest trick in history came into my mind: the horseshoe, in which an army falls back at the centre to draw in the other’s centre, and then sweeps in the flanks to surround them.

I would normally be the first in the file; now I signaled in Krero and said “Mana! Lift me on your shoulders!” He looked at me as if I were mad; engaged though we were there was still the odd arrow or javelin flying. “That’s an order!” Sure enough, I saw as I straightened up, both lines were curving, like the edge of a glacier. As if to agree with my eyes, the gong boomed, in the rhythm that means “Keep the line straight!”

All the other commanders called their units to where they should be for that; my nine turned as one when I did. But Elera, to my disbelief, charged on as if he were deaf, and the rest of the century, torn two ways, scattered and strung themselves all out in a half-hearted advance. In a moment we were all in the open. Like a nightmare clearer than waking, I saw what would unfold. It was time for arrows; the Lakans would begin their volleys, and our archery-commanders must either leave them unanswered, or say kyash on the fools who’d ignored the gong and go ahead.

I should have sent someone else; if Emao-e did command a volley it would come down thickest furthest ahead. But I didn’t think Elera would listen to anyone else. The nightmare began playing itself out as I chased him, with a volley of Lakan arrows falling unanswered as Emao-e chose to spare us, for now. Kahara… she might be holding off, I realized, because she knew it might be the unit I was in.

I found Elera advancing a spear-length from the Lakans, who kept up their orderly retreat, beckoning us to fight them with smiles on their faces, as if it weren’t obvious enough. “Seta!” I screamed, “the child-raping gong, if you're deaf to it at least look over your shoulder!” Perhaps he’d misunderstood the rhythm; I don’t know. What he claimed afterward was the root of his misjudgment defies my understanding. “I knew I’d have to say this sometime,” he snapped. “Shut your cocky brat’s mouth, Fourth Chevenga.”

I was so stunned, I stood flat-footed, beyond even anger. He’d said it with satisfaction. Was this envy? Here? Now? Several Lakans called out “Ahai!” and they all ducked behind their shields; Emao-e had given the signal. I threw mine behind me and heard a shaft thump into it from my shield-side while another hissed past my ear from my sword-side; ever effective is the traditional Yeoli crossfire. I couldn’t stop myself from hearing two Yeoli death-cries. “All those who don’t want to get their own arrows in the back follow me I’ll take the whip!” I screamed. As one, they did; they’d only needed someone, no matter who, to command it. We sprinted across open ground with our shields before us for the Yeoli arrows first, then behind us for the Lakan, many of which were aimed specifically at us. Elera was the last to get back, his face such a deep red it seemed black, and his hands trembling. He didn’t look at me.

When we reformed I saw we were down to about seventy, plus fifteen wounded badly enough to be sent back, including Kamina with an arrow in his shoulder. When we did our full accounting later we’d find out that seven of our dead, as we would never mention aloud in camp, had fallen to the obsidian points of Yeoli arrows.

His ruse failed and our wings hacking back his, Arzaktaj ordered in the horse at our centre after all, thinking to overrun the Kadrini there by sheer numbers. That brought the edge of their squares to us. It gave me more joy than usual, to turn the lance of the man who’d lined me up and unhorse him with a flying kick; I even liked finding myself in a press, the worst place to be, so that I had to carve my way free through more Lakans than I counted. Even so, when it was over, ended in a mutual retreat, I was full of the internal shaking of anger.

I wasn’t even all the way back to our tents, let alone washed or ungeared, when a hand seized my hair, hauled my head down and dragged me along bent over like a child. I came within a hair’s-width of fighting Elera, before sense seized me; there was too much rage here already, he was still my commander, and whatever harshness he showed me would add only to his shame, not to mine. Most of the unit was already following, yelling “Seta, kras’, no, don’t, he saved some of us!” until he ordered them all to shut up. “Insubordination is insubordination, is it not, Fourth Chevenga?”

“Yes, setakraseye.”

”On your knees, then.” I obeyed as they milled around muttering, and he struck me the blow of shame so hard everything was dark for a moment, then had them set up the flogging-post and lash my arms to it, though I’d proven in front of twelve thousand in Shairao that it wasn’t necessary. “You said you’d take the whip, did you not, Fourth Chevenga?”

“I did, setakraseye.”

“To falling.” There were gasps all around. “Silence; next one to speak other than him gets the same.”

“I submit myself,” I said. My stomach clenched and sweat broke out icy all over, my body remembering last time. Everyone went even more quiet. He snapped his fingers for the whip; he wanted to do it himself.

In my life I had come to know the envy of children, of overshadowed siblings, of friends wishing themselves in my place, of older warriors imagining what I would someday be. But what I felt on my skin now, I was unprepared for and thus naked to, having never dreamed it possible. There before all who were left of his warriors, as if it were right, he laid into me as if his mistake had somehow been my fault, as if he could erase it by purging his anger on me, as if he could make himself greater by causing me pain. I did not see his face, but my friends did, and they told me that all through it was joyful with satisfaction in the guise of discipline.

When it was over I woke hanging by my arms, and Mana and Krero untied me, their hands, even as they tried to be tender, trembling with rage. As Elera turned to walk away, a score of voices called him back, the loudest his second, Karili Senchara. Though I had not been aware of it, there had been whispering all through the flogging. “The people request a vote; our wills as one are our own until it is done,” she said, formally, then: “Your balls are ash, Elera.” His features went stone-grim, but weren’t entirely surprised. He’d wasted no time, I saw, so as to get it in before he was impeached or demoted or both.

Of seventy-eight, seventy-four voted chalk to impeach him; even his friends did not vote charcoal, but abstained. Without a word he surrendered the insignia to Karili. Mana and Krero half-carried me back to the tent, and on the way I threw up thoroughly—it was a cursed hot day—while everyone else washed and cared for their gear. Then a messenger came from Emao-e, and I had to get up and move again.

Before her tent, with me in a chair, she questioned us all. Elera’s answer to why he had not obeyed the gong-order I couldn’t believe I was hearing: “With someone like Fourth Chevenga Shae-Arano-e under your command, it gets hard to think clearly sometimes.” He really was blaming me for his mistake. “Oh right!” Mana spat, speaking entirely out of turn, “and he’s to blame for the plague, the flies, and last century’s poor harvests too, I suppose!” --“And the heat!” snapped Kunarda. --“And the hardtack!” Sachara got in before Emao-e shut them up. The fast give-and-take of jest suddenly cast me back into the past, nine moons ago, when it had had no obsidian-sharp edges, when we’d known nothing and had no scars; when we had been children.

“Well,” the general said once she had all the answers she wished, “I was going to just demote you to common rank, Elera, but that’s been done for me, no surprise, and it seems you are a believer in harsh punishments.” She struck him as hard a blow of shame as he’d had me, and ordered him flogged to falling.

Some in my place might have wanted to watch, but I didn’t, and so with my friends’ arms under mine I went back to our tents. Evening brought blessed cool, and cookfires were being lit, though I wasn’t hungry. We assembled between the tents to choose a new setakraseye; Karili told us she was willing to take it but would prefer to remain second, and everyone began saying my name. I agreed and it went chalk all but unanimously. The next day, when I was healed enough to stand straight, Emao-e awarded me the Bronze Circle, for presence of mind on the field.