The Betrayed by Igor Ljubuncic Page A

Edwin in Lieutenant Bruce’s company. When they both got killed, Captain William promoted me.”
    He waited. Nothing happened.
    “Are you the only survivor?” the second officer asked, after a short pause.
    “For gods’ and goddesses’ sake, let’s not make a parade out of this. Bring that man into the tent,” a third voice boomed.
    Gently, as if he were some rare beast, he was ushered into a tent, given a stool and a flagon of wine. He drank slowly, biding his time.
    “He must be in shock,” he heard someone comment.
    “Do you remember the…battle?” the second officer persisted.
    Adam put down the flagon. It was time for the second act. “Not really, no, sir. I remember bits of it. I remember we were marching when the enemy ambushed us. Our flanks were exposed. And then, it was chaos.”

    Mali’s brows jumped at the news. “What? A survivor?”
    Colonel George shrugged. “It seems to be. No one can believe it. Looks like a miracle.”
    “Where is he now?” Mali asked, already rising from her chair.
    “My captains are with him now. He claims to be one of William’s men. Field promoted some two or three ranks. I find it highly unlikely.”
    Abruptly, Mali stopped walking. George bumped into her. “You think he’s a spy?”
    George puckered his lips. “I’m not thinking anything. It’s just weird, that’s all.”
    “I want to speak with him,” Mali said.
    “Wait, let me make sure he’s not armed,” George said and rushed ahead of her.
    “So now he’s an assassin too?”

    Adam was surprised by his own calmness. He sat in a crowd of complete strangers, people who would have his head instantly should they know the truth, and yet, it hardly mattered to him.
    His act seemed to have convinced them. He was a bit hesitant, a bit vague, making them believe he suffered from shock and exhaustion. Still, wariness remained. Adam knew more than well not to push his luck. This was no different than being a whore. You had to let your customer warm up to you.
    The tent flap stirred, and another group of officers entered. A tall, imposing man with a black beard led them. He stood there, scowling, as his eyes adjusted to the murk. Then, they found Adam.
    “Welcome,” he said, his voice pleasant.
    Adam tried to rise from the chair, but the man waved a hand at him. “No, please, remain seated. You must be terribly exhausted.”
    “Thank you, sir,” Adam mumbled. His rival had the eyes of a fox, gleaming and knowing.
    “Can you tell me what happened?” the man asked almost too casually.

    As agreed, Mali had remained outside the tent, eavesdropping through the thin canvas.
    She admitted the First Battle of Bakler Hills had been an utter disaster. After some debating, she had decided to move south and meet the enemy face-to-face. Being significantly outnumbered, she had hoped to gain some higher ground before meeting the Caytoreans.
    But her scouts had done a lousy job. A huge force of enemy cavalry had slipped past west and then backtracked in a wide circle from the north, attacking her exposed flank. She had been able to regroup and pull the mainstay of her forces back to her original position, but the vanguard of light infantry had been cut away. With no help from the heavy shock, the skirmishers and former convicts had been decimated easily. Instead of securing a foothold in the hills, she now faced a fortified enemy, with a thousand less spears than she had had a week ago. Partly, it was her fault. She should have sent dragoons instead of the rabble.
    The battle must have been a total disaster. She did not know all the gory details of the fiasco. But she knew that the troops from Penes had been training to harry infantry and stragglers— not to fight heavily armed Caytorean cavalry. Kal Armis’s men had been there just for show, three ragged companies of fodder and some regulars.
    And on top of all that, the Caytoreans had a nasty habit of slaughtering all captives. They did not believe in the