Free Breaking an Empire by James Tallett

“There’s something else, something they weren’t talking about. We lost a third of our men. You could see it, whole banners missing from the rows. We also lost half the storehouses. They were fired before our soldiers got there. We have enough for the trip down, and perhaps some of the trip back, but not all the way across Bedwar Barthu Dirio. Looks like it’s Niam Liad or nothing.”
    Taflen spoke. “A third? We must have crippled the Lianese.”
    “Oh, we did. Their forces in Horaim were shattered. But how many more do they have in Niam Liad?”
    “Given how many fought here, they can’t have more than a few handfuls left. The emperor never let them keep or train many soldiers, so we’ll be going against farmers with pitchforks.”
    “Pitchforks and a twenty foot city wall.”
    Days of sleeping and eating followed, with the squad not rising until the sun was directly overhead. It was a pleasant time, a break from the strictures of warfare. The citizens of Horaim, those who remained, came out of their hiding places to stare at the invading army. Some hucksters took advantage of the situation, and sold their wares at inflated prices to the Veryan soldiers.
    The third day came, and Glanhaol Fflamboethi formed again, the supply wagons flush with goods. The journey south was to take a little over two weeks, barring constant raiding.
    ***
    Within two days, the soldiers saw evidence of burned fields and ruined terrain once more. The cursed landscapes brought a dark humour over the soldiers, and many wry and sarcastic jokes were passed back and forth. Locsyn delighted in creating new ones, and shared them far and wide. Taflen took part too, as did all the others except Llofruddiwr, who disappeared for days at a time, returning at random intervals to gather supplies. Rhyfelwyr thought of approaching the assassin to ask his purpose, but knew he would get nothing more than a glance and one word, and so left the man alone.
    Rhocas had departed the squad, called back to his mage training. Whether he would be reassigned to them or not was uncertain. The sergeant was grumpy about that, for he had spent a great deal of time trying to turn the young lad into a good soldier, and just when it looked as if he had achieved his goal, command tried to make Rhocas into a mage. The young man hadn’t had enough time for his teachings to settle in, and being confused in battle was a quick way underground.
    The black humour lasted until the army was a week down the peninsula. Then the raiding began. The Lianese had held back some of their skirmishers, and, early in the morning or late in the evening, they would charge a flank, launch a volley of javelins and arrows, and retreat. The Lianese managed this twice before the officers adjusted to the tactic, and the third time the skirmishers came for the Veryan army, they were met with massive spheres of flame, each tearing huge chunks out of the onrushing line. With perhaps a third of their number dead or severely wounded, the Lianese turned tail and fled, and did not try again.
    Upon seeing their defeat, Locsyn twirled his moustache and grinned. “They’re going to have to come up with something better than that to defeat us.”
    Taflen sounded forlorn as he spoke. “They have, Loc. We’re being fed well, but our food supplies won’t last a long siege, and they won’t last the run up the peninsula, unless we capture and take every ounce in Niam Liad. Even if we win and break their rebellion, our army and this land will be shattered for many years to come. We’re the last guttering of a candle before the wick runs out.”
    “Damn it Taflen. I’d been trying to forget that.” Locsyn stared at the ground for a long moment. “You think I want to be reminded that I can survive every arrow and sword, and rather than die a hero’s death I’m going to die a thin skeleton in some roadside ditch? Look around. The black humour was the only leg we were standing on for morale. If the Lianese