Die for the Flame (11 page)

Suddenly she was past the front lines and beyond, out of the fight. She kept riding and turned behind a sandy hill at the appointed rendezvous spot. Her archers came pounding after her and pulled up breathless, the horses heaving from the effort. After they had launched as many arrows as possible before the Maggan rushed them, they remounted their waiting horses and dashed away.

A messenger from Amran raced in on a wounded horse, bringing the message that she should move down the road and link up with him. She gave the order, and they all mounted up and snaked through the rocks and copses parallel to the road in the direction of the forest. The evening was upon them, and darkness was not far away. The Maggan had the advantage of being able to see in the dark better than the Karran, and as she rode, Lillan wondered how she would handle the night. Should she continue to attack in the dark or wait for sunrise? And where was Clarian?

They reached Amran’s temporary camp. It was some distance from the road and shielded by a series of low hills covered in twisted scrub trees. No campfires were burning. Amran’s soldiers were already sprawled on the ground eating cold food, their horses hobbled nearby. Lillan’s party poured into the camp. Her archers were exhausted. It had been a very long day. Clarian had sent supplies: extra bows, strings and arrows, and lances.

It wasn’t long before Tobran and Rokkman appeared as if out of nowhere, several messengers and scouts in tow, and a contingent of mounted archers taken from the rear to be redeployed. Their horses were lathered and blowing hard, and it was obvious they had pushed their animals to get there quickly. Tobran’s face was drawn, showing fatigue, but his mouth was set in a determined line, and his eyes were alert to the condition of the warriors who now surrounded him.

Night fell quickly. Under a hastily erected tent, candles were lit and placed on a makeshift table. There Lillan spread out a map. Officers huddled together in the dim light, some with bandages wrapped around heads or arms or legs, crowding the tent. The air was heavy with the smell of sweat and horse. Outside, over a thousand horse soldiers, most of whom were stretched out on the grass trying to snatch a quick nap, surrounded them.

“The Maggan are retreating into open country and probably to the forest, or that is what I perceive,” Lillan said to the officers.

Rokkman grinned, his face smudged with dirt. “I think we have turned them back.”

Lillan did not return his grin, her features drawn and serious. “I think so, but the battle is not yet won. Ferman is losing a lot of soldiers at the rear because his retreat is uncoordinated. We are picking off stragglers and exhausted soldiers and meeting weak resistance as we press against the rear of their army. Here is our problem: I did not expect the Maggan to retreat this early in the battle. Clarian has entered the forest and is now on his way to wreak havoc in their lair. But he needs time to reach Minteegan, destroy it, and return before the Maggan army reenters the forest. Otherwise, he and his soldiers could be trapped in the forest.”

“So, what do we do?” asked Rokkman.

“We have to delay the Maggan retreat until Clarian returns.”

“The Maggan are out of the ridge country, and while this is still rough country here, there is less cover and less advantage for us,” said Tobran. “And the grass is short and doesn’t burn as it did back among the ridges.”

“I have an idea,” said Amran. “In a few hours the moon will be up and bright.”

“Yes,” Lillan said, listening intently.

“Well,” Amran continued, “we can see Maggan better then. Of course the Maggan can see us even better with their nocturnal vision, and that’s the bad part. We could construct a barrier of logs, brush, and scrub across the path of the Maggan. When the Maggan approach, we could set it ablaze. The Maggan will either go around it, which would be difficult, or stop their forward progress and wait for it to burn down. If they try to skirt the fires, they will be vulnerable on their flanks, and we can attack them as they come out. In any event, the Maggan soldiers would be very visible from the fires as they approach the burning barriers,” said Amran. “Our archers can move in close to the fires and begin firing into the massed soldiers as they bunch up. That should slow them down.”

Lillan and the other officers nodded in agreement. She looked thoughtful as she considered the plan. She believed it would work, but what about the several days they needed to delay the Maggan until Clarian’s troops returned? “When daylight comes, you must move some of your archers up to the edges of the Maggan army on both flanks, hidden under cover and on foot and begin to pick off close targets. If they charge out, retreat. Even better, set small ambushes. Keep the pressure on and kill or wound as many as possible as long as there is daylight. Continue to block their advances down the road with logs and brush and fire, as you suggested, Amran. Do not let them rest, and do not let them find water. They may try to send out mounted patrols to find fresh water. Put dead Maggan soldiers into that little stream that runs along the road, and let the bodies bleed out into it, and let the water run red. Dead horses, too.”

A few officers grimaced at the thought, and some had wry smiles on their faces. They filed out of the tent and hurried off to their commands. Rokkman glanced back and saw that Lillan was hanging back to speak to him alone. He turned and called to Amran to wait for him. An aide rolled up the map and exited the tent.

“Lillan,” said Rokkman.

“There is no one I can talk to. About the dying, I mean, your Holiness.”

“I know.”

“I didn’t know it would be this hard. I knew I could tell you.”

“Do not dwell on the dying now. That will come later when it is all over.”

“Clarian is deep in that awful forest.”

He touched her shoulder. “The Flame is with him, daughter.”

Outside the tent the tramp of boots, the neighing of horses, and voices calling signaled that the muster for the night maneuvers had begun under a cold moon.

After a brief rest, Amran’s and Lillan’s combined forces began building the barricade across the path of the Maggan. Tobran returned to the battle lines in the rear. While some chopped trees, others used their horses to drag logs, downed trees, and brush into great piles that stretched across the path of the Maggan army to block the road. They were now into their second night without sleep. So was the enemy.

The Maggan marched back toward the Forest of Darkness. The moon in the night sky cast an eerie, gray light onto the battlefield. The Karran army kept up a grinding attack against the straggling Maggan soldiers in the rear. But the Maggan were regrouping because they were out of the ridge country and were no longer being hit by the Karran archers from the outcroppings of rock high above the road.

Ferman, leader of the Maggan army, his right arm and shoulder heavily bandaged, sat in his wagon in the middle of the column pulled by a team of horses. His tunic was encrusted with blood, and he had lost his helmet. He bawled out orders to his officers and messengers, sending them scurrying.

“Get me up to the front!” he yelled to his driver.

“Which front would that be, sir?” asked his driver, sarcastically.

“Get me up there!” Ferman snarled, pointing.

The driver snapped the reins, and the horses picked up the pace. Soldiers made way for the wagon once they saw it was their leader. Ferman was deeply troubled by what appeared to be a defeat at the hands of the Karran. No one had expected much resistance from them. They were weak. They had a small army. How could this have happened? His mind spun. How could he have been so stupid as to walk into a trap? Who was leading these Karran dogs?

The wagon pulled up just behind the marching vanguard, which was now stalled. Ferman, with help from his driver, stood up in the wagon and surveyed the front line, blocked by fires, burning logs, and brush. An attack by Amran and Lillan had just ended. Dead and wounded soldiers covered the ground, and the cries of the injured filled the night. Ferman pulled at his hair in frustration.

“Get my commanders over here!” he shouted to nearby aides. “I want them here
now
!”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

C
larian hid his companies of mounted soldiers in a small canyon near the entrance to the Forest of Darkness. Following Clarian’s orders, Martan moved his scouts through the night to join Clarian, who was waiting for them to begin the invasion of the Forest of Darkness.

At daybreak, Martan’s force arrived, bringing fresh horses with them. Clarian directed Martan to lead with his scouts and to post a rear guard. The main Maggan army had been crippled. This gave him breathing room for his mission. He ordered his soldiers to mount, and they rode out of the canyon, down through the narrow mouth, down the road into the forest, and then galloped into the ominous gloom known as the Forest of Darkness.

The tree canopy overhead blocked the daylight, and they strained to see through the inky blackness. The road was wide enough for at least six riders abreast. Martan set their pace at an easy canter to save the horses. They did not encounter any Maggan as they proceeded down the winding road that threaded its way through the great tall trees. Under the canopy the air was humid, and moisture lingered on the leaves that brushed against the soldiers. The road was a muddy track recently churned up by the passing of the Maggan army. Clarian knew he might run into supply wagons or even a contingent of enemy soldiers moving up to join the battle, but he and Martan had discussed it, and Clarian was convinced that they likely wouldn’t encounter any reinforcements. Martan wasn’t so sure.

The patrol of scouts disappeared into the blackness ahead. The forest had a heavy, damp, fetid smell that was unfamiliar to the Karran soldiers. The riders craned their necks upward to stare at the immensely high trees arching above them. A shaft of light penetrated the gloom through the leafy covering, sparkling as it fell. They could hear unfamiliar birds calling high up in the canopy. The forest was foreign to them. The Forest of Darkness had always been a place to avoid, as the Maggan had always been a people to avoid. The soldiers did not speak as they rode.

A thousand riders on horseback made a lot of noise. The pounding hooves could be heard and felt for some distance. Weapons jangled. Horses snorted. Anyone who frequented the forest would not be surprised at mounted soldiers riding fast.

Martan and Clarian led the troops deeper into the forest. Martan admitted to himself that this was one assignment he hadn’t welcomed. He feared the forest, and he feared the hated Maggan. As a child, he had been told tales by his grandfather of the evil night people with the cat eyes who lived in darkness beneath the ground and ate captured children. The column stretched out far behind him as they loped through the darkness. Martan rode forward to be with the lead scouts.

It was not long before Martan’s scouts came to the camp where the Maggan had been mustered just a few days before. It was empty. They hurried by, and the Karran force settled into a mile-eating gait through the forest. The morning made itself known as a weak gray light filtering down through the canopy. Martan called for frequent stops to rest and water the horses when they crossed streams. The soldiers dismounted for these all-too-brief respites and stretched and checked their weapons. Martan would pass the word to eat, and they would pull food from their saddlebags. They rode through the day, taking an endless, mind-numbing path where they couldn’t see more than a hundred paces before them in the blackness, following the twisting road that curved around great trees, plunged down ravines and up muddy grades, the horses slipping and falling back into the riders behind them.

Martan couldn’t tell Clarian how far away the cavern of Minteegan was. One estimate was a two days’ hard ride. He hoped Minteegan was not that far. The horses would tire before too long, he thought. He could stop and rest them more, but that would mean his troops would be in the forest that much longer, not knowing what they might meet there, and they were jittery as it was. He heard officers snap at soldiers who failed to keep up.

Without warning, shouting erupted up ahead, and the clash of metal and cries of pain filled the air. Nevertheless, Clarian did not alter the pace of the horses. Within a few minutes, he came upon several Maggan supply wagons, pulled off to the side of the road. Their drivers were dead, some lying on the ground, others draped across the seats of the wagons. The scouts were driving the wagons off into the gloom, disabling them and taking the horses. Clarian briefly halted the column, as Martan ordered a fresh scouting party to take the lead, and other soldiers helped hide the bodies and remove debris from the violent encounter. The Maggan wagons were lightly armed and had been easily overcome. No Karran soldiers were injured.

Within a short time, the brief fight had been erased as well as could be expected. Martan waved his arm, and the column resumed its advance. He urged his horse forward next to Clarian. “You were wrong. You didn’t think we’d run into anyone on the road until we got close to their city.”

Clarian thought about it and then muttered, “We’d better keep our eyes open.”

“The good news is that there were no mounted troops guarding the convoy.”

“No. But that doesn’t mean we’re invited home for dinner.”

Martan laughed and moved his horse ahead to join the first ranks in the column.

Resting the horses and the men every few hours, the day passed slowly but not without event. Twice more they encountered supply wagons, and once they skirmished with a small band of Maggan riders, all of whom they overwhelmed. In each instance, they dragged the wagons and bodies into the trees off the road and left them there.

Sometime after midnight, the troop took a detour off the main road down a narrow, faint trail that led deeper into the forest. Once they were far enough off the main road, Clarian had them dismount for the night, care for the horses, and lie down to sleep. There would be no fire. Cold food was fetched out of saddlebags and washed down with stream water. Horses snorted and stamped with fatigue. Figures wrapped in cloaks littered the ground in exhaustion. A few unlucky soldiers took watch on the periphery.

Clarian and Martan gathered their officers together under a huge tree. They could barely see one another. A small candle was lit. Clarian said in a low voice, “Before dawn we’ll be up and on the march. A wounded Maggan driver told us that Minteegan is two days’ travel from here. Wagons move more slowly, so I’m guessing one day of swift riding. If all goes according to plan, we will attack down in the cavern at what we surmise is just after bedtime for our nocturnal friends.”

“Catch them in their nightgowns,” said Martan.

The officers chuckled.

A young officer offered, “We’ll be interrupting their dreams of eating roast Karran.”

“That’s not funny,” said another, while others snickered.

The darkness was pitch-black, and the air was moist and heavy with the smell of rotting plant growth. There was no wind. Strange sounds and rustlings could be heard.

“What kind of animals do they have in this forest?” asked a voice in the dark.

“Get some rest,” said Martan. He lay on his cloak, too humid to cover up. He thought of his young wife, killed so many years before by the Maggan in the Great War. He hadn’t thought of her lately until this war had started up. Her sweet face slowly transformed into a bloody mask of death. He had found her broken on the field of battle. He tried to keep the sorrow and the hate that welled up in his chest from overcoming him again as it had so many times before. He closed his eyes and willed his mind to be still.

Morning came a few hours later. The profound darkness persisted under the canopy of the giant trees. The troop fed and watered their horses at a nearby stream, checked weapons and equipment, and wolfed down cold food from their saddlebags. There was no talking. The stamping of horses’ hooves and soft huffing were the only sounds that broke the silence.

No order was given, but as if by one mind, the troops mounted up and fell into columns, and led by scouts they moved back down the trail to the main road. Within minutes, they were back on the main road setting the horses’ pace at a lope.

Clarian expected to stumble onto fields and orchards as they got close to Minteegan. Because it was daytime, he didn’t expect any farmers to be at work in the fields, but rather down in the cavern in their homes sleeping. That was his assumption, but who knew about these strange beings? He thought it odd that people could be nocturnal. Except for their eyes, the Maggan looked a lot like the Karran. He swiveled in his saddle and looked back at the column following him. The line of solders followed the curving road and disappeared from sight in the trees and darkness. They seemed to make a lot of noise, even on the leaf-strewn road. He wouldn’t want to get caught in an ambush with his troops all strung out along the road.

The day slipped by as hour after hour the forest hemmed them in, and the darkness pressed upon them from all sides. They rested the horses frequently, trying to conserve strength for what might be up ahead. They met no Maggan on the road.

Suddenly, all the horsemen ahead of Martan stopped. Clarian urged his mount around the halted solders and rode toward the front. Martan was riding back toward him. They reined in their horses as they met.

“There are farm fields ahead and cattle and horses,” said Martan.

“See anyone?” asked Clarian.

“Not yet and no farmhouses either. Just fields. The road cuts through them and keeps going.”

“Let’s take a look.” Clarian and Martan rode ahead of the column past the scouts who were gathered up at the edge of a large, cleared field. Because the field was cleared of most trees, the sun shone down hot and bright.
Finally, daylight,
Clarian thought. He could see extensive fields spread out on both sides of the road. Some fields were planted with grain, others with vegetables, and the pastures were filled with grazing cattle and horses.

Clarian rode back and gave the orders to pull off the road and rest and water the horses and to cut staffs and prepare torches. He judged that the cavern was close, but how close was the question. The sun was beyond midday. If it took too long to get to the cavern city, he and his force would be engaging the enemy at night, and he wanted to avoid that. He preferred to hit Minteegan earlier in the day, preferably when the night people were sleeping.

He waved to Martan, and they assessed the situation. They agreed that attacking the Maggan late in the day and into the night was not to their advantage. Martan suggested they send scouts ahead to try to determine where the city was without being detected and move the column closer if possible. They would then camp out of sight and rest the men and horses until the next day and attack in the morning.

Two scouts were sent ahead riding horses with hooves muffled in sackcloth to search out the area ahead. The column followed slowly and cautiously. There was no talking in the ranks as they followed the road through fields where the forest had been cleared. Soon, other roads began to intersect with the main road, indicating more fields branching off in other directions. They encountered no farmers or riders, and Clarian considered that a good sign.

As dusk arrived, the two scouts returned. Clarian and Martan were anxious for their report. The cavern city was not far ahead. They had not seen anyone in the fields or on the road. The scouts had been able to get close to the cavern entrance or what they thought was the entrance—a wide road leading down into blackness beneath the cliff. From behind a clump of trees they did see a few men moving near the entrance but glimpsed no soldiers anywhere.

The scouts reported that there were stone buildings out in some of the fields and that they might either be storehouses or animal shelters or even farmhouses. It could be that not all Maggan lived underground. Martin decided to avoid those, and after orders were given, the scouts led the force down the road and into a forested area beyond some cultivated fields, deep enough to avoid contact with a wandering farmer or herdsman. There, the Karran soldiers rubbed down their horses, fed, watered and staked them out, followed by a quick, cold meal for themselves. Wrapped in their cloaks, they slept on the damp ground, uneasy and fearful in the pitch-black night.

Sometime before dawn, the soldiers roused themselves without being told. First, they saw to their horses, watering them and providing them a light feed, and checked harnesses and saddles. Next, they examined their weapons—stringing bows; arranging arrows in quivers; and checking lances, swords, and daggers. They gulped down some dried food from their saddlebags and drank their fill of water from a nearby stream.

The officers found Clarian and Martan beneath a great tree, waiting for them.

“From here on in, we are engaged with the enemy,” Clarian said to his officers, whom he could hardly see in the gloom of the forest, even though it was early dawn. “Prepare your troops. Prepare your weapons. Prepare to fight. Our first objective is to go down into the cavern and burn and destroy all we can. We will drive these nocturnal vermin out of their hole and up onto the surface. When we come out of the cavern, we will burn and trample the fields and drive off the cattle. We want the horses for ourselves. We’ll drive them in front of us back to Karran. Keep your teams together. Don’t let anyone get separated. We will be moving fast. Any questions?”

No one spoke. Heads turned from side to side, as if to query fellow officers, but they all seemed to understand their mission. “Let’s mount up. The Flame,” he whispered.

“The Flame,” they whispered back.

The Maggan army inched its way toward the forest, leaving the dead in its wake. There were no wagons and troops to carry them home. The sun had dropped behind the hills, and dusk was closing in. Lillan and Amran guessed that Ferman would push through the night and not stop to rest. This was the third night during which the burning barricades had blocked the advance of the Maggan army. As planned, the barricades held up the enemy army for hours, and the Karran archers downed countless soldiers. In the early morning hours, the fires had subsided enough for the Maggan to force their way through the hot embers and charred trees and resume their march down the road.