Hand of the Wicked

Chapter Three

“Major Dryden, congratulations, sir!” An officer grabbed his hand and shook it. Another man clapped him on the back. “To Major Dryden and the 13th! To King Victus!” Someone shouted. “To Queen Ella!” Someone else shouted. He was being crowded by dozens of officers in the officer’s club at the garrison of Andaban. The armies of reprisal had arrived to relieve the city and found that it had broken the siege all on its own. Now the officers of those armies were mingling and celebrating with the officers who had held out. They all knew that the real fight was still ahead of them, but for now, they celebrated what they could. The city had been saved.

Dryden found now and much to his surprise, that he was something of a celebrity. Why, he could not have said. He had been defeated. The men under his command had all been killed or captured. He had only lived through sheer luck. They kept telling him he had been the sole survivor, and that of course, they wanted to buy a drink for the man who had lived. But he hadn’t been the only one who lived. Captain Khathan stood next to him in the officer’s club with a smirk. Only one or two officers had bought the Captain a drink, even though, at least in Dryden’s opinion, the Guludan captain’s heroism far exceeded his own. Instead, Dryden simply passed most of the drinks that were purchased for him off to the Khathan who happily took and drank them in his stead. The more Dryden was congratulated, the more glum he felt.

“Ahh, Major, there you are.” A man strode up to him. He wore the uniform of a V.A.C. officer. He had the epaulettes and insignia of a major general and too many medals pinned to his chest.

Most of the officers cleared off as the general arrived. Dryden stood and snapped to attention. Then he felt woozy. He realized how many drinks he’d had. Khathan tried to stand too, but fell back onto his barstool.

“Don’t stand, don’t stand.” The general grinned at them both, “I understand that I am in the presence of heroes.”

Dryden gestured to the chair next to him at the bar.

“Don’t mind if I do. Barkeep, a gin and tonic, if you please.” The general sat, then turned back to Dryden and Khathan, “Very good, very good, yes, indeed. I understand you’ve been made an acting captain in the 13th, eh Captain?”

“Yes, sahib.” The captain bobbed his head. Deference did not come easily to the Guludan, but he put on a show for the general. It would not do for him to make waves, his promotion had been highly unusual. None in the regiment or Andaban had questioned it, but that didn’t mean nobody would, especially now that the immediate threat was done. This man was not, strictly speaking, their superior officer, being a commander in the Vastrum Aethium Company’s private army rather than the proper King’s Army. Still, a man like this wielded much influence. It was not worth upsetting him.

“Indeed, very novel. Major Havelock is certainly taking an unconventional approach is he not? Never mind all that though, I read the report that Dansby had from Major Dryden here. Damned impressive stand at Golconda, that. Good on you, boy.”

Dryden felt his blood rising at the patronizing tone of the General. Before he could speak, a voice interjected from behind him.

“General Winslow, you aren’t bothering these two fine fellows too much, are you?” It was another general, this time a proper one. He too held the rank of Major General.

“Not at all, Haddock. I was just commenting on the fine work they’ve done here in Vurun.” He took his gin and tonic and downed it in one swig with a grimace, “Anyway. I’m off. Chin-chin.”

“Gentlemen. Major Dryden and Captain Khathan, I presume. I’m General Haddock.” He shook hands with both of them. The general was small in stature, both in height and in his build. He had a well-trimmed white moustache and a wispy greying hair. “As I see it, you’ve both earned a good rest, have you not?”

“If you say so, sir,” Dryden replied.

“A sepoy’s work is never done, sahib,” Khathan answered.

“Nonsense, and call me sir, this is the King’s army, and you are an officer of the King’s army now.” He took the seat next to Dryden that had been vacated by Winslow. He sighed, “I’ve made your commission official, Captain.”

Khathan looked shocked, Dryden realized that he had not expected that to happen. He had likely expected to be demoted as soon as officers with real authority arrived, “Thank you, sir.” He replied.

“You should be in line for a promotion too, eh Dryden?”

“I don’t see how.” He replied, “My entire command died.”

“Indeed. Terrible, that. It’s a miracle that anyone survived to come down and warn the garrison here. So, tell me, what do you want? A promotion to Colonel? A plum posting? To be sent home to Marrowick? Command of the 13th?”

Dryden shook his head, “Sir. Thank you for your offer. I wouldn’t want to take command from Major Havelock. He’s earned it more than I have. I want none of that. Don’t take this wrongly, I am truly grateful.”

A look of interest came over the general’s face, “Name your reward and you shall have it.”

“I have promises to keep, sir.”

“What kind of promises?”

“The kind soaked in blood.”

“Be more specific.”

“I promised Colonel Gorst that I would see his daughter safe, that I would rescue our captured people. I promised our men that I would take vengeance for them. That’s what I want.”

“Is that all?” The general looked both impressed and amused at the same time. Then he seemed to change subjects, “Major, are you a hunter perchance?”

“I’ve hunted.”

“Foxes?”

“Among other quarry.”

“And you, Captain?”

“We hunt tigers in my homeland.” The man from Gulud replied.

“Ahh, a man after my own heart!” The general exclaimed, “I do so love to hunt tigers. As you may have guessed, I am a hunter. It is my primary hobby and my true love. I hunt at every reasonable opportunity. I have hunted tiger in Dravan, gryphon in Huz, mammoth in the far north of Svardhavn, and snow leopards in the Korum. I think now we will be hunting a sorceress, the witch Aisa. I am told that she went north days ago, and now burns her way through the oases cities west of the Korum. This cannot stand. My favourite technique is to drive my prey from hiding with hounds. I will be the hunter. The 13th Dragoons shall be my hounds. You will drive Aisa the witch before you. General Winslow will cut off the Settru pass. I will cut her off at the northern passes. I cannot promise you that our prisoners still live, but what I can promise you, Dryden, is vengeance.”

Vengeance would have to be enough. The 13th Dragoons of Andaban rode north with the army two days later with Havelock in command and Dryden beside him.