the Reedbottoms. Stragglers and deserters, for all practical purposes, who didn't look to have any more fight in them than so many whipped curs.
She glanced at Jessep, who was now standing on her other side. Oddly, the middle-aged veteran seemed to be rather relaxed.
Yunkers confirmed her impression immediately. "Tomsien's always been clumsy. Capable, mind you—but with about as much imagination as an old matron set in her ways."
"What do you mean?" she asked, frowning.
He gestured with his square chin. "What's the point of taking a battle formation like that against something like this? He's not facing an Emerald phalanx or a mob of barbarians. No way to outflank us—so why even try? And the saw and the wedge'll both be useless here."
She heard a massed Vanbert battle cry, followed immediately by the first real volley of Reedbottom guns going off, and jerked her head back around. Every wagon within range of the Confederates looked like a pincushion, thousands of short lead-weighted javelins having struck them in the Vanbert volley. That had been the battle cry she heard, she now realized.
"Stupid," hissed Jessep. "What in the name of the gods was Tomsien thinking?" He pointed a thick accusing finger. "No way a javelin is going to punch through the walls of those wagons. All the dumb bastard's done is create a hedge against his own men."
By "hedge," she knew, Jessep was referring to a standard tactic used by Confederates to defend their camps against assaults. Pushing branches out sideways through the walls, to impede anyone trying to scale them. Now that she thought about it, she realized that all those javelins sticking on the wagons were going to do much the same to any Vanbert soldiers trying to scale them.
True, the volley fired in response by the Reedbottoms was equally stupid. The range was still too great—although she could see that a number of Vanberts had been struck down. But, at least as long as their ammunition held out, the tribesmen could afford a few mistakes like that.
"And he's doing it again!" Jessep's hiss, this
She glanced at Jessep, who was now standing on her other side. Oddly, the middle-aged veteran seemed to be rather relaxed.
Yunkers confirmed her impression immediately. "Tomsien's always been clumsy. Capable, mind you—but with about as much imagination as an old matron set in her ways."
"What do you mean?" she asked, frowning.
He gestured with his square chin. "What's the point of taking a battle formation like that against something like this? He's not facing an Emerald phalanx or a mob of barbarians. No way to outflank us—so why even try? And the saw and the wedge'll both be useless here."
She heard a massed Vanbert battle cry, followed immediately by the first real volley of Reedbottom guns going off, and jerked her head back around. Every wagon within range of the Confederates looked like a pincushion, thousands of short lead-weighted javelins having struck them in the Vanbert volley. That had been the battle cry she heard, she now realized.
"Stupid," hissed Jessep. "What in the name of the gods was Tomsien thinking?" He pointed a thick accusing finger. "No way a javelin is going to punch through the walls of those wagons. All the dumb bastard's done is create a hedge against his own men."
By "hedge," she knew, Jessep was referring to a standard tactic used by Confederates to defend their camps against assaults. Pushing branches out sideways through the walls, to impede anyone trying to scale them. Now that she thought about it, she realized that all those javelins sticking on the wagons were going to do much the same to any Vanbert soldiers trying to scale them.
True, the volley fired in response by the Reedbottoms was equally stupid. The range was still too great—although she could see that a number of Vanberts had been struck down. But, at least as long as their ammunition held out, the tribesmen could afford a few mistakes like that.
"And he's doing it again!" Jessep's hiss, this