The Autumn Republic

Two grenadiers immediately came around the corner of the farmhouse. Their muskets cracked and powder smoke rose over their heads, but they weren’t going to hit anything at this distance. Taniel had already rammed a bullet down the end of his rifle, sans powder, and lifted it to his shoulder. He burned a powder charge in one pocket to propel the bullet and took one of the grenadiers through the eye. The second threw himself back behind the house.

Taniel broke into a sprint toward the farmhouse. He rolled as a grenadier appeared from a nearby ditch. The man’s musket belched smoke and Taniel heard the bullet whiz by. Too far to ignite the man’s powder, but close enough…

He let go of his rifle as he came out of his roll and drew a pistol. He fired, adjusting the trajectory of the bullet with his mind in the fraction of a second it took to cross the distance and lance the man’s heart. The grenadier fell.

Three down, three to go. Taniel’s heart sang as he moved, blood pounding in his ears, feeling the rhythm of the battle. A bullet skipped off the ground beside his foot, and he looked to see the grenadier hidden on the roof of the farmhouse. Taniel hesitated between reloading his rifle and drawing his second pistol and decided instead to finish his sprint toward the cover of the house. Another grenadier rounded the corner of the farmhouse just as Taniel reached it. The soldier raised his musket.

Taniel ignited the grenadier’s powder horn and used his mind to warp the blast away from himself.

A slight movement above him was his only warning as the grenadier from the roof leapt down, knife drawn.

Taniel caught the grenadier’s knife thrust with the stock of his rifle. He shoved, trying to push him away in order to thrust with his bayonet, but the grenadier grasped the musket with one hand and stabbed again. Taniel was only able to avoid the thrust by throwing himself against the stone wall of the farmhouse.

The grenadier followed through, his face furrowed in anger as he caught Taniel’s bayonet under one boot and bent for another jab. Taniel let go of his rifle and snatched the grenadier’s wrist, slamming his opposite fist into the man’s knee.

The grenadier screamed. Taniel wrenched on his wrist, pulling him down to the ground, and rolled on top of him. He had the grenadier’s knife now, and he wrapped one hand around the hilt and slammed it into the grenadier’s face.

“Where’s Ka-poel? The savage girl! What have you done with her?” Taniel waited a moment, then punched him again. “Tell me!” Why was he doing this? He already knew. What could this bastard possibly tell him? Taniel drew his second pistol and pressed it against the grenadier’s forehead. “Is she still alive? Tell me now!”

The grenadier spit blood in his face.

Taniel felt the pistol jerk in his hand, the crack of the blast in his ears, and the grenadier’s body beneath him stiffened then sagged. Slowly, he climbed to his feet and tossed the spent pistol aside.

He’d wanted answers. He’d wanted to hear his fears confirmed.

Taniel looked to one side as the sixth and final grenadier came out of his hiding place and advanced, musket leveled. Taniel took a deep breath. Shit. In his excitement, he forgot about the last one. Too far to ignite the grenadier’s powder, and too close for the grenadier to miss him.

A stupid mistake, and it had just gotten him killed.

Taniel flinched away as the grenadier jerked to one side and fell. His musket landed on the hard-packed road with a clatter, and blood seeped from his head to pool on the ground. Taniel took a shaky breath and squinted into the sun, but couldn’t make out anything in the glare. His backup must have arrived. No one else was close enough to make that kind of a shot. He would have sensed them.

Tamas must have sent another powder mage. But who? Had the rest of the cabal caught up to Tamas? Had Tamas himself come? Taniel felt some dread in the pit of his stomach, because he thought he knew who it might be.

No use staring into the sun, trying to see who had shot the grenadier. Taniel checked the bodies more closely and found each of the grenadiers dead or very near so. His knife finished the job on two of them. No sense in letting men suffer, and they weren’t going to answer questions in their state.

He finished his inspection, checking for other grenadiers he might have missed, and gathered and reloaded his weapons, then walked toward where he’d left his horse. He was just climbing into the saddle as the rest of his hunting party crested the nearest rise. He bent over his saddle, eyes closed, resting as he waited for them to catch up.

“What are you doing here, Captain?” he asked when he heard their hoofbeats come to a stop nearby. He opened his eyes.

Vlora reined in her mount and signaled for the others to stop. “It’s ‘Colonel,’ actually.”

“That’s quite a promotion.” Taniel had known, of course. And she knew he knew. He had called her “Captain” out of spite.