Free Redemption (Book 6) by Ben Cassidy

strode up the steps of the turf embankment towards the destroyed palisade. He cast a critical eye over the damage. “The Jombards could come again,” he said over his shoulder. “Captain Beckett, post fifty men here to guard the gap until the palisade is rebuilt.”
    “Yes, sir.” A huge man with a bushy red beard and wearing the insignia of a captain in the militia strode up behind Kendril. He was dressed in the buff coat and cuirass of the cavalry, but instead of a helmet he wore a coonskin hat on his head. “With your permission, I’d like to take charge here myself.”
    Kendril gave a satisfied nod. “I was hoping you would.” He gave a charred piece of wood a kick. Ashes puffed up into the air. “We need to get some kind of basic defense up again here.” He pointed across the line of the turf embankment. “Start with wooden stakes. If you can get some platforms up where the watchtowers were, post snipers. I’ll get a cannon out to you as soon as I can round one up.”
    Captain Beckett rolled his shoulders. It was clear he was itching to get the heavy cuirass off as soon as possible. “What about that old pop-gun the last group of Calbraithans brought in? It’s just sitting back at Stockade.”
    Kendril gave a short shake of his head. “That old thing’s so rusted I’m afraid it’ll burst at the first shot.” He turned back to Beckett. “I’ll get you a proper cannon, even if I have to steal one from the Arbelans.”
    Beckett gave a snort as he looked over the destroyed palisade. “Some regulars they turned out to be. If we hadn’t come when we did—”
    “That’s enough, Captain,” said Kendril shortly. “They were outnumbered and taken by surprise. They held out longer than most would have against such odds.”
    Beckett straightened at the rebuke. “Yes, sir. Of course.”
    Kendril kept one hand on the hilt of his sheathed rapier. He peered out towards the dark woods past the burnt remnants of the Wall. “They’ll come again.”
    Beckett spat on the ground. “Sure as rain they will, sir.”
    “When they do,” Kendril continued in a quiet voice, “you hold the line here as long as you can. I’ll get reinforcements to you.”
    “I feel I should remind you, Lord Ravenbrook,” came a voice from behind them, “that the Wall and its defense are the charge of the Arbelan government.”
    Kendril and Beckett turned to see Captain Lockhart climbing the steps up to the turf wall.
    “Yeah,” Beckett mumbled through his beard, “and look where that got us, you stuck-up—”
    “ Beckett ,” said Kendril under his breath.
    The giant militiaman held his tongue.
    Lockhart reached the top of the embankment. “My dragoons can hold this section, General.”
    Beckett let out a guffaw.
    Kendril gave his subordinate a cutting glance before turning his attention back to Lockhart. “I’m sure you’ll agree, Captain, that given the circumstances it is in both of our interests to work together here.”
    “That’s not what I heard,” said Lockhart, his head held high. “Hangman’s Hill still falls under the protection of the Arbelan Protectorate, and Northampton’s Dragoon Regiment has been assigned to man it.” He gave the fuming Beckett a sidelong glance. “With respect, that means that I still have command here at Hangman’s Hill, not Captain Beckett.”
    Beckett flexed the fingers on his calloused hands, as if he were going to reach out and strangle the dragoon captain. “Why you insufferable piece of—”
    “And I should remind you, Captain,” said Kendril icily, “that Arbela is a long ways from here.”
    Lockhart stood his ground. “I hardly see how that matters.”
    Kendril mused for a moment in silence. His eyes gazed steadily at Captain Lockhart. “Fair enough,” he said finally. “Captain Beckett, you and your men will answer to Captain Lockhart while you’re at Hangman’s Hill.”
    “You’re twisting my beard,” Beckett rumbled. “If you think that