The Trees And The Night (Book 3) (33 page)

“A half league more, then we will see how the Ulrog respond.”

Greeb crawled atop a low bluff that hugged the western edge of the Mnim Valley’s opening. His Hackles crowded near this opening in a hundred rows, ten deep. Their black, oily eyes slid from Greeb’s bluff to the grasslands below then back to the bluff again. The Malveel knew what they waited for and he knew it was too early.

The horsemen halted three quarters of a league from the Mnim and sat motionless as the giant dust cloud raised by their movement swirled up and over his valley. Temujen had not shown his intent and neither would Greeb.

The Malveel laughed to himself as a wicked sneer played across his lips. What did the Eru hope to accomplish by this display? The Ulrog were safe from the horsemen within the confines of the Scythtar. Even if Greeb chose to attack the Eru position, the only thing Temujen accomplished was exposing his force to danger in an area with easy retreat for the Ulrog.

Greeb was no fool. He had not been Sulgor’s second for nothing. His military victories far outweighed his one grievous error.  He would wait and see what the Eru intended. Besides, his orders were clear. He was to guard the pass and only harass the Eru with small raiding parties. Sulgor was explicit and Greeb was in no position to challenge the Malveel King.

Banners rose amidst the human force. Greeb showed no reaction upon seeing the gray stallion on a field of green, the banner of the Eru. However, a low growl rumbled forth from the depths of his belly as the Amethyst Compass and Crown of Astel fluttered on a field of white.

The Malveel narrowed his eye and his vision pierced the night. There amidst the horsemen stood the enemy. The banner of Astel fluttered over several hundred infantry.

“Slundoc!” roared Greeb.

Two thousand soulless, oil black eyes turned to the tracker standing in their midst.

“Yes, my lord,” replied the stone man.

“I want numbers and banners,” spat Greeb from his perch.

Immediately Slundoc and half a dozen Ulrog like him hammered their way through the lines of their comrades and fanned out across the Scythtar’s foothills, carefully picking their way toward the Eru front lines.

“Cortik,” bellowed Greeb.

The High Priest stared up in anticipation.

“It appears the humans unite,” scoffed Greeb. “An unforeseen development at this juncture.”

Cortik smiled, showing the black and broken rubble of his teeth.

“We may be forced into an assault on their position,” growled Greeb.

CHAPTER 20: ULTIMATUM

A full moon and an array of stars illuminated the grasslands of the Erutre enough to make them glow when viewed from inside the Derol forest. The forest, however, blocked any such light from reaching its floor and remained near total darkness. Hai led his stallion along a narrow woodland path. He remained alert to the Erutre’s glow just beyond the forest’s edge. In this way, he kept himself near enough the grasslands to remain on course, but deep enough within the wood to remain hidden from the eyes of his enemies.

Two hundred of his brethren followed the son of the chieftain in this manner, slowly stalking through the wood leading their mounts by a tether. Interspersed within their rank were one hundred more Derolian woodsmen and several dozen Astelan swordsmen. Hai and his father had debated over the numbers, determined to strike a proper balance between the believability of Temujen’s army and its vulnerability. Only the assurance of complete victory would lead Greeb to abandon the Mnim.

Movement along the forest’s edge caught Hai’s attention. He watched as several shadowy figures danced passed the glowing light of the grasslands beyond. Excellent, thought Hai, his scouts kept pace with the main group. The Derolians had selected several woodsmen to hug the forest’s edge and keep watch for Ulrog trackers. The Malveel’s spies were Hai’s greatest worry. In order for the plan to work, secrecy was of the utmost importance. The greatest threat to secrecy was Greeb’s trackers. Certainly the great beast would send trackers to scout the force arrayed before him. If any of those spies were to discover Hai, the results could be disastrous.

“Another quarter league should be sufficient,” whispered Lijon over Hai’s right shoulder.

The Eru rider turned and nodded to the big woodsman. Lijon’s teeth gleamed in the darkness.

Greeb stood above his Hackles on the rocky bluff continuing to eye the army amassed a half league from the Mnim’s opening. Temujen certainly built a sizable force. The horsemen themselves were formidable, thought Greeb, but the addition of Derolian ax and Astelan sword made them even more dangerous. The Malveel would certainly not attack the force if it were camped deep within the grasslands of the Eru, but the arrogant fool marched his new found power to the edge of the Scythtar. The mistake of pride, thought Greeb.

The trackers left nearly a half hour earlier and Greeb grew impatient. He needed information more than anything at this moment. Why did Temujen believe he could challenge the Mnim? How many horsemen were under his command?  How many ax? Were the Derolians fully represented or did they split their numbers between their homeland and this campaign? Certainly they did not leave their forest bereft of defenses. The Mnim was much too far from their camps along the Mirozert for them to rush home if needed. The Mirozert held a threat ten times more formidable than Greeb’s army.

“Cortik,” barked the Malveel from his perch. “Send word to Sulgor concerning this challenge to our strength. Also inform our lord that we believe the Derol to be poorly defended to the east.”

“Yes, my lord,” rumbled the voice of the High Priest.

The red robes of Cortik billowed as he swung toward his Hackles and locked an iron claw on an Ulrog runner. The High Priest quickly passed the message to the runner then threw the beast up the slope. The runner stumbled forward then without hesitation broke into a lumbering gait up the rocky slope of the Western Mnim.

Good, thought Greeb. He covered himself in case of failure. Sulgor would be informed of the human force challenging the Scythtar. Greeb afforded the Malveel King the opportunity to strike at the weaknesses created by such folly. If by some insanity Greeb and his Hackles were forced into retreat, it could only result from the combined efforts of Derol, Astel and Eru. In such a case, Greeb would be shamed, but if Sulgor neglected to advance on the Derolian camps along the Mirozert, he too would share in the shame of lost opportunity.

A roar echoed in the distance. The faint clang of clashing steel followed. An Ulrog death cry echoed in the distance then was swallowed by the darkness.  The Hackles aligned below Greeb grew restless and a low murmur of growls and grunts broke out. Greeb remained expressionless. Cortik nervously glanced to his master.

Five minutes passed. The darkness grew as the hour crept deeper into night. The murmur of conversation faded then unexpectedly rose once more. Trackers returned and pushed their way past the milling Hackles. Slundoc was amongst them. The lead tracker halted and gathered information from his subordinates. Finally, he turned and raced to the foot of Greeb’s perch.

“What do you report, tracker?” demanded Greeb.

Slundoc dipped his head in proper respect then spoke.

“The Eru hold their force a half league from our position,” began the tracker. “Darkness hides their numbers, and they do not hold the usual formation.”

“I asked for a report, not excuses,” roared Greeb, his eye pulsing red fire.

“Yes, my lord,” returned Slundoc dropping his head. “I only offer the information as a means of determining the enemies intent. Certainly they wish to confuse, my lord. A task they will find impossible when your servants act as diligently as I.”

Slundoc bobbed his head up and down in repeated bows and kept his eyes solidly focused on the ground. Greeb considered the tracker with a snarl.

“Go on,” hissed the Malveel through clenched jaws.

“As I said, my lord. The Eru keep their mounts apart and attempt to fill the gaps with riders and woodsmen,” continued Slundoc. “Therefore, from this distance their number appears more than it truly is. However, we were able to close on their position and discern a true count. It is a great force, my lord, but not as great as it appears. I believe Temujen commands near to four hundred horsemen and several hundred foot soldiers.”

A din of growls and curses broke out amongst the Hackles at this news. The limited number of humans emboldened them.

“SILENCE!” bellowed Greeb.

The Hackles immediately quieted and stared up at their master.

“What of support units?” questioned Greeb. “Does Temujen hold horsemen in reserve?”

“I sent trackers as distant as a league south from the Eru position,” replied Slundoc. “They discovered no reserve units.”

Greeb lowered his head in thought. Four hundred horsemen seemed too few. The last report he received from his trackers told of at least two hundred more riders under the chieftain’s command. However, Ulrog raids most definitely thinned their numbers. Cortik and his priests reported Eru casualties by the dozens after every such raid.

Greeb chuckled. He was no fool. The Ulrog tried to curry favor with him as much as he did with his masters in Kel Izgra. “Dozens of casualties” probably meant “few”, but he could not be certain. Additionally, Woil reported sightings of a large group of horsemen patrolling the Eru to the west. If this were true, it would certainly explain the limited numbers under Temujen’s command.

The number of foot soldiers also made sense. The woodsmen and their exiled allies were sensible. To leave their camps in the woods unprotected was not likely. Greeb believed hundreds of soldiers and riders were unaccounted for, but where were they?

The Malveel slowly raised his head and his lone eye glared at the dark ribbon of trees running across the eastern horizon. A low rumble grew within his belly as he glared at the trees. Finally, his sight shot to Slundoc.

“What of the Derol?” barked Greeb. “What lies within the wood?”

Slundoc’s eyes widened and again he dropped his head in deference to his Malveel master.

“The Derol is .... ah ...,” stammered Slundoc.

The tracker’s mind raced. Two of his brethren did not return from their mission. They were ordered to skirt the Eru position and survey the land between the horsemen and the Derol. Certainly they fell prey to Eru sentries. This resulted in an incomplete picture for Slundoc to deliver to his master and Greeb did not tolerate inadequate results.

“ .... has been reported clear of enemy forces,” continued Slundoc.

Greeb’s glowing red eye stared down hard at the tracker as a massive claw rose and stroked the dead gray orb. Slundoc feared his master and knew death was the penalty for supplying false information.

“Two of my subordinates were lost in their attempt to scout the area,” blurted Slundoc. “However, those assigned to cover the task were successful in avoiding the Eru sentries and report no movement in the wood.”

The lie was something his subordinates dare not contradict. All would be punished for their failure to scout the Derol. Slundoc was the lead tracker in the Eastern Scythtar and privy to all the information Greeb received. Certainly his master was aware that the numbers arrayed before them seemed logical. At best a hundred horsemen were unaccounted for and most likely roamed the plains to the west. Also, the Derolians most probably left a contingent of one hundred ax men in their roaming forest camp. Greeb glared at the tracker.

“I believe we face the combined force of all the South uses to defend itself in this area,” stated Slundoc confidently.

Greeb’s head rose and he stared out over the army in the distance.

“Why?” muttered the Malveel. “Why challenge the Mnim now? It does not make sense.”

“Two smallish Ulrog,” stated the Derolian. “They moved more quickly than their larger brethren, but our axes made short work of them.”

“You are sure there were no others?” questioned Hai.

“Absolutely,” returned the Derolian. “We allowed them to deeply penetrate our screen in order to watch for followers. There were none. No report of our presence returns to the Scythtar.”

“Excellent work,” smiled Lijon slapping the scout on the back. “Return to the forest’s edge.”

The woodsman bowed and slipped through the trees disappearing into the darkness. Lijon turned to Hai.

“It appears we avoid detection,” stated the big man, “but Greeb the Dead Eye will question the disappearance of his trackers.”

“Possibly,” replied Hai, “however, he may consider the trackers casualties of their own carelessness. Eru sentries are an easy explanation for the tracker’s disappearance.”

“He will remain uncertain of the Derol’s edge,” stated Lijon. “The plan requires that he focus on Temujen.”

“At worst his attention will waiver between Temujen and the wood,” replied Hai. “Once my father fully engages the Ulrog, Greeb will have no time to waste his thoughts on the forest.”

Lijon considered Hai’s words and nodded in agreement.

“These arguments remain moot if the beast remains holed up within the Mnim,” commented Lijon.

“True, but I believe Portlo and Temujen can find a way to motivate him,” stated Hai. “Have your woodsmen continue their work. We have a limited time to construct the trap.”

Lijon smiled.

“The work is under way as we speak. When the Ulrog enter the wood, it will guide them to their deaths.”