From Across the Clouded Range (84 page)

The sallow-faced director stared down
the table with his dark-brown eyes to drive his point home. “I say
to you, my fellow directors, far from being the devil for not
sacrificing ourselves, we will be the goats of history if we are so
easily duped. Who is to say that these Darthur will not kill us all
no matter what we do? I, for one, say that we should use these
strong walls and buy time for our allies. We are the bulwark that
must hold if the Kingdoms, yea the world, are to have a chance in
this war, and I will not see that bulwark crumble so easily.” He
pounded his fist down to end and glared down the table. The looks
in many of the eyes there showed that his word had resonated. The
situation was desperate.

“
Your bulwark will not
last a day,” Ipid mumbled.

“
What is that, Lord
Ronigan?” Grand Duke Oscante asked, his hand behind his ear for
emphasis.

“
I am sorry, my lord. I
said that the city will not last a day against the power I have
seen from the invaders. Valati Lorenzo has confirmed the power of
the Exiles. They will tear down these
‘strong walls’
without every coming
into range of your defenses. From what I have seen, you have a
better chance on an open field than you do from within these
walls.”

Several heads nodded at Ipid’s words
including the valati – though the distance in his eyes suggested
that he was nodding at something very different. The man did not
say anything further, but others saw him, and Ipid hoped that they
would be influenced by his apparent assent.

“
We have heard several
valid arguments.” Oban brought everyone back to the task at hand.
“If no one else has anything to add, then it is time that we
decide. This, my friends, may be the most significant decision you
ever make. Personally, I can see both sides and give great credence
to what Director Ahern has said. So I leave it to you to decide
what you believe. Because of the importance of this vote, I call
for a blind tally. Captain Defours, Valati Lorenzo, and Secretary
Smalters will witness the vote. Ipid, as you have been cleared of
any wrongdoing and are still a member of this directorate. Please,
take your seat.”

Ipid was stunned. He had not imagined
that he would be allowed to vote, but because the Directorate was
ten without him, he would be the tiebreaker if things went that
way. He had to keep himself from running around the table to his
seat, two down from Oban on the left. Geoffrey Ahern glared at him
the entire time, but Ipid did not care. He found his things on the
table exactly as they should be and gripped his crest tightly,
prepared for the vote.

A blind tally meant that all the
directors would close their eyes while the votes were being cast.
The three witnesses would tally the votes and the secretary would
relate the result back to the chairman. No one but the three
witnesses and the guards would ever know how the individual
directors voted, and they were sworn to secrecy upon penalty of
expulsion from the city. Likewise a director who was caught peeking
during the vote would be stripped of office, lands, and titles and
cast out of the city. Because of these complexities, blind tallies
were extremely rare and only used for the most controversial of
circumstance.

Ipid’s hands were already trembling as
he closed his eyes and waited for Oban to call for the vote. “On
the matter of the Battle of Testing,” he announced in a booming
voice. “All those that will have the men of Thoren, as many as can
be mustered, stand against the invaders upon the common lands two
mornings thus as described by Lord Ronigan, please raise your
crests and be counted.”

There was a swirling of cloth around
him, but Ipid could not tell how many arms had risen. At least it
wasn’t silence, he thought. A suggestive cough from in front of him
interrupted his contemplation with the realization that he had
forgotten to raise his crest. Thanking the Order for the secretary,
his hand shot up. He held it there for what seemed a long time,
cursing himself the entire time and barely avoiding his desperate
desire to peek.

Secretary Smalters broke the tension
with another cough. “We are ready for the dissenters.”

Oban chimed again, “All who say that
the men of Thoren shall stay within the good walls of this city and
bide time for our allies while risking the destruction of our
nation and all who populate it, please raise your crest and be
counted.”

There was another swish of material on
material. But was it louder than the last one? Ipid could not be
sure. He kept his hand locked to the table before him, unwilling to
breathe for fear that he might be misrepresented. The need to look
was even greater now. He barely suppressed it.

When he could take it no longer, the
secretary cleared his throat. “The vote has been tallied and
certified by three witnesses, of which I am one.” His voice was
high-pitched but formal. “It is my duty to inform you, Lord
Chairman, that the ‘yea’s’ have carried the vote: seven votes to
four. The Directorate has spoken, and so its bidding shall be
done.”

Ipid’s eyes shot open, and he nearly
bounded from his seat before a glance at Oban stanched his revere.
There was no joy in the big man’s eyes, no sign of victory, and his
cold expression restored Ipid’s perspective. His victory was these
men’s death sentence. They had bravely voted away their lives in
the service of their countrymen, had voted away their lives on
Ipid’s word, on their trust in him. There was no reason to
celebrate, Ipid realized, and he suddenly wished that he had not
voted at all.

Chapter 36

The procession of men across the
valley seemed as if it would never end, column after column
appeared at the crest of the hill to the west, marched through the
valley, and disappeared over the next rise in the east as if on a
loop. From the position of the sun, Dasen had been watching the
invaders pass for nearly an hour, every unit the same, five
thousand men with no variation in their dress, formations, or
weapons. If not for the strangeness of the dress, formations, and
weapons, he would have been lulled to sleep by now.

“
How many you think there
will be?” he whispered to Teth at his side. He looked at her
through the few stalks of grass that separated their faces. It
surrounded them where they lay at the crest of the hill, tall and
thick, shielded them from the view of the men below, and bent to
form an arched roof over them.

She thought a moment then licked her
lips. “I think they’re almost done. See, there are wagons cresting
the hill. I think that will be their supply train. Usually, it’s
that, a rear guard, and that’s it. I’m guessing six thousand all
told.”

“
That’s one of the biggest
units we’ve seen.”

“
And the strangest. Look
at their hair. It’s pure white.”

“
Not as strange as the
guys who sang and danced rather than marching. The ones with all
the drums.”

“
Yeah, but I liked them.
These are just spooky. The way they march, all tall strides and
perfect cadence, it’s just not right, like an army of ghosts or
something.”

Dasen considered that. The men below
did resemble ghost. They wore ash-gray pants and shirts that
accented their snow-white skin and flowing, nearly translucent,
hair. But the similarity ended there. They wore planks of polished
wood as armor and carried large packs. Most of them carried tall
spears with narrow points that caught the sun six feet above their
heads. The exceptions were the men in every third row, who carried
tall shields of bronze-coated wood on their backs and small
crossbows at their belts. As Teth had said, they marched with high
strides that were perfectly matched to the cadence supplied by
drummers at the front of each company. Flanking each drummer were
flag bearers who carried square banners depicting a stork flying
over a golden sun.

“
They are spooky,” Dasen
finally agreed, “but more because of the discipline. I mean who
marches like that through the middle of a nowhere? Who do they
think they’re impressing?”

“
You mean the Kingdoms’
soldiers don’t march in perfect unison? I’m shocked. But they’re so
well trained and disciplined.”

Dasen rolled his eyes at the sarcasm.
Ever since they unified, the Kingdoms had been aggressively
peaceful. Ironically, the Kingdoms’ unifier and first Chancellor,
Alden Kavich, had fought and won the wars to unify the kingdoms
because his oldest son had been killed in a skirmish with a rival
kingdom. In his sorrow, he had pledged to bring peace to the
kingdoms so no more sons would be lost to war. Once he had allied
with or defeated all the dukes, he abolished the original kingdoms,
divided the land into the current districts, established a system
by which land owners elected their leaders, and dismantled most of
the military forces. Ever since, the army of the Kingdoms had
remained small, used primarily to patrol the roads, keep the
Sylians from raiding the border, and generally keep the
peace.

“
The soldiers might not be
much of a threat,” Dasen replied, “but I don’t begrudge any army
trying to capture Thoren. Unless you have boats to attack from the
river, you’d be fighting house to house through the outer rings
just to get to the main wall.”

“
Thank you General
Ronigan. Do you have any orders for your grasshopper army before
you prepare the city’s defenses?” Teth made a mock salute where she
lay. Dasen stuck his tongue out at her. “I dare you to come over
here and do that,” Teth chided in response. Dasen was only too
happy to oblige.

When they managed to pull themselves
apart, they recovered the distance they had slid down from the
crest of the hill just in time to see the last of the “phantom
legion,” as Teth decided to call them, disappear to the east. After
a few more minutes without further signs of activity, they
retreated a short way down the back of the hill and lay out of the
sun under a small ridge. Though it was still early, the day was
going to be hot, and they were both thankful for the shade. They
drank the last remnants of water from a topless bottle they had
found lying beside a roadside well the previous night. With Thoren
still a night’s walk away, they were going to get very thirsty, and
that was assuming they found a way to sneak into the likely
besieged city. They had finished the last of their food the night
before, so with stomachs rumbling, they lay close together in the
shade and fell asleep.

#

“
Dasen, wake up!” Teth’s
urgent whisper stirred Dasen from a deep sleep. Somewhere, he heard
the rhythm of horses’ hooves. Teth shook him again. “Now, Dasen!
There are riders on our side of the hill.”

Dasen’s eyes shot open. He
shook his head and tried to focus. He maneuvered around Teth in
their tiny sanctuary and followed her eyes to a dozen riders who
were just entering the broad valley below. The grass on this side
of the hill was scrub. It provided almost no protection, left them
horribly exposed, but the invaders were not supposed to be on this
side. They had assumed that the army would stick to the road, that
as long as they were out of view from the thoroughfare they were
safe.
What are the bastards doing over
here?

“
We have to try to make
the ridge,” Teth said, her words laced with fear. “When they go
behind that stand of trees, their view will be blocked. We’ll go
then.” They both held their breaths waiting for the riders to
disappear behind a half-dozen scraggly trees that stood alone at
the bottom corner of their hill.

“
Go!” Teth announced and
broke for the top of the hill. Dasen was right behind her. Staying
low was pointless since the grass only came to their knees, so they
sprinted all out, praying that the trees would shield them from
below, that more men were not waiting above. The hill was steep,
and their feet slipped as the dug for purchase, but it was only a
short distance. After a few strides, they threw themselves over the
ridge and dove into the thick grass on the lush southern face of
the hill. Their heads immediately shot up, scanning the road below
for the next threat. They exhaled. It was gloriously
empty.

Relief lasted just long enough for
smiles to form on their faces. The sound of hooves galloping around
the hill erased them. “Run!” Teth ordered. Dasen did as she
suggested, sprinting for all his was worth along the ridge of the
hill. Behind them six riders appeared on the road and angled up
their side of the hill. On the other side, another six riders were
paralleling the steep northern face waiting for their quarry. They
were trapped, but Teth was never one to give up. The ridge ended,
and she dashed down the eastern slope. There was nowhere there to
hide, no chance of outrunning the horses, but Dasen followed
anyway. Angling across the face of the hill, the riders were on
them before they were halfway down. Dasen heard the horses behind
him then something whistling. A second later, his feet fell out
from beneath him. He landed on his hands and felt the air rush from
him as his body followed.

By the time he recovered his air, he
was surrounded. A spear was held absently at his chest, so he
remained on his back and brought up his hands in the universal sign
of surrender. The riders, eight all told, laughed as if his
surrender were a tremendous joke. They spoke boisterously among
themselves in a foreign language without any seeming concern for
their captive. Dasen looked at his feet and saw that they were
tangled in a short rope with heavy balls on each end. That
explained what had tripped him. He searched next for Teth. Not
finding her, his hope rose that she had escaped.