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"He'll pay attention, by the gods," Ned said softly. "If he doesn't pay
attention to you, he'll have to pay attention to me." He smiled a thoroughly
grim smile. He'd met few men who cared to stand up under the full storm of his
anger.
He and Ben rode back toward Bell, who traveled with the pikemen and
crossbowmen of the Army of Franklin. When he saw Bell on a unicorn, he sighed.
The commanding general hadn't had an easy time of it. Ned had often wondered
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about Bell's common sense. No one could doubt the leonine officer's courage.
Bell's adjutant had had to tie him into the saddle. The stump of his left leg
was too short to give him a proper grip on the unicorn's barrel.
Ned looked down at himself. He'd been wounded several times, and still had
the tip of a crossbow quarrel lodged somewhere near his spine. It had broken
off; the surgeon had dug out most of the bolt, but not all. Men often died
from a wound like his. He'd confounded the healers he'd got well instead. He
still had the use of all his parts, even if some of them had been punctured.
Nothing on earth would have made him trade places with Lieutenant General
Bell.
What was it like, to be a wreck of your former self? What was it like, toknow
you were the wreck of your former self? Bell knew those answers. Ned was glad
he didn't.
Respecting Bell's bravery, he saluted the other officer. The commanding
general cautiously returned the salute. With only one good hand, he had to be
cautious about taking it off the reins. "What can I do for you, Lieutenant
General?" Bell asked. As it often did, laudanum dulled his voice. His sagging,
pain-racked features told the story of his suffering.
At Ned's prompting, Ben repeated his news for Lieutenant General Bell. Ned
added, "Sounds to me like if we move smart, we can hit the southrons a devils
of a lick."
"I don't want to go straight at them," Bell said. "We just use up our army
that way, and we haven't got enough men to be able to afford it. But if we can
flank the southrons out of their position, if we can get around behind them
and make them retreat past us . . . If we can do that, we'll really make them
pay."
"Yes, sir. I like that." Ned of the Forest liked hitting the enemy he was one
of the hardest hitters the north had. Hitting the enemy head-on was a
different story. He saw that plainly, and wondered why more of King Geoffrey's
generals didn't. Nodding with pleasure, he asked, "What do you want me to do?"
"Hold the gods-damned southrons in place with your men," Bell answered.
"Don't let them come any farther north, and don't let them get wind of how
many men we have or what we're doing with them."
"I'll try my best, General," Ned said. "Can't promise to hold off a whole
army with just my unicorn-riders, though."
"Yes, I understand that," Bell said. "You can slow it down, though, and
screen away the enemy's riders, eh?"
"I expect I can manage that much, yes, sir," Ned allowed. "Wouldn't be much
point to having unicorn-riders if we couldn't do that sort of thing, would
there?"
"I wouldn't think so," the commanding general said. "Well, go on down and
take care of it, then. The men on foot will follow and outflank the southrons
while you keep them in play. And when they realize we've got behind them and
they have to retreat, they're ours. I wish I could ride with you."
"So do I, sir," Ned said, more or less truthfully. Bell was no unicorn-rider
by trade, but everyone said he'd been a fierce fighter before he started
leaving pieces of himself on the battlefield.
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Bell paused now to swig from the bottle of laudanum he always carried with
him. "Ahh!" he said, and quivered with an ecstasy that almost matched a
priest's when he had a vision of his chosen god. For a moment, Bell's eyes
lost their focus. Whatever he was looking at, it wasn't the muddy road and the
trees shedding the last of their leaves. But then, quite visibly, he came back
to himself. "You there, trooper!" He nodded at Ben.
"Yes, sir?" the unicorn-rider asked.
"You're a corporal now," Bell said. "You took chances to get your news, and
you deserve to be rewarded. Lieutenant General Ned, see that the promotion
goes into your records, so his pay at the new rank starts from today."
"I'll do that, sir," Ned promised. "I was going to promote him myself, matter
of fact, but better he gets it from the general commanding the whole army."
Ben now Corporal Ben looked from Ned to Bell in delight. "Thank you kindly,
both of you!" he exclaimed.
"Don't you worry about that. You'll earn those stripes on your shirt, never
fear," Ned said. "Now come on. We've got work to do."
He urged his unicorn forward with knees and reins and voice. Ben followed.
Ned felt Lieutenant General Bell's eyes boring into his back. Bell could ride
well enough to stay in the saddle, but he'd never storm forward in a unicorn
charge.
Of course, Ned didn't plan on storming forward in a unicorn charge, either.
More often than not, he used his riders as mounted crossbowmen, not as
cavaliers slashing away with swords. Unicorns let them get where they needed
to go far faster than they could have afoot. Getting there first with the most
men was essential. And if you got there first with a few, most of the time you
wouldn't need any more.
Back in the west, Duke Edward's commander of unicorn-riders, Jeb the Steward,
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