Tides of Blood and Steel (6 page)

Piper frowned despite the ease of victory. Perhaps it was that ease that left him troubled. It didn’t make sense. Their stand resulted in heavy losses Aurec could ill afford. He supposed it could be blamed on the vagaries of war, but experience suggested otherwise. He was missing something. Anxious, he struggled to sort through the random bits of information leading up to the battle. Prost found him with a queer look when he returned with the horse.

“The army performed brilliantly,” Rolnir congratulated his adjutant.

Piper gave a modest nod. He was not the one to do his job for recognition or glory. He did it for Delranan and the honor. Nothing more. “Thank you, General. I do not deserve such credit, however. Field Commander Prost developed the strategy and led the men. If anything I was in his way. He should be so honored, not me.”

Rolnir feigned a smile. He expected such from his friend. “Ever humble, eh Piper?”

Piper rubbed the stubble on his chin. “They were in a static defense. I doubt they were in position very long. All of the wooden obstacles were fresh cut and green.”

“And their numbers?”

“Manageable. They didn’t have more than two hundred. We killed or wounded one hundred twenty-seven and took sixty-three prisoner. I allowed the rest to escape to spread the word of our coming.”

Rolnir approved though his gaze darkened slightly. “Our numbers?”

“Twenty-four dead. Thirty wounded.”

Higher than he had hoped or anticipated. Sadly, there was nothing for it. War was as unpredictable as the direction of the winter wind. Men died and the battles continued. The only way to stop the dying was through ending the war. Rolnir knew the end was too far away to begin thinking about.

“Why did they stand? Your force was strong enough to wipe them from the field in less than an hour. There must be some ulterior motivation,” Rolnir mused, echoing Piper’s earlier misgivings.

Piper threw up his hands. “The only conclusion I came to was that we had them cornered. Cut off from Rogscroft, they had no choice but to stand and fight.”

“Against impossible odds? They are fine enough fighting behind rocks and laying ambushes, but they’re not battlefield quality and you know it,” Rolnir scolded sharply. “Could be Aurec just wanted to see the full measure of what he’s facing. Even if meant sacrificing a few hundred men.”

“Prince Aurec was not on the field,” Piper added.

“He is not my main concern. Every day takes us deeper into enemy territory. Our supply lines are getting stretched and more difficult to maintain. At some point we will be forced to take an operational pause for resupply and refit,” Rolnir told him. “The prince will be brought to task in due time. I need you to stay focused on the task at hand.”

“Does that mean we ignore what just happened? I somehow doubt Aurec is foolish enough to waste valuable resources so blindly.”

Rolnir stalked over to the wall map and pointed out a series of positions. “We’ve engaged and destroyed three enemy outposts in the last day and a half. King Stelskor is no fool and neither is his son. He is not about to sacrifice his men for no reason. I believe these outposts are designed only to slow us down, nothing more.”

“I agree. The king must have a plan. Trying to figure it out has been most infuriating.”

“Until we know what that plan is, we remain cautious. I share your uneasy feeling about this affair, Piper,” Rolnir reluctantly admitted. “My gut tells me Aurec’s using these forts to draw us in, but for what I don’t know.”

Piper waited patiently. They’d worked together long enough to understand each other’s moods. Rolnir was clearly deep in thought and anything Piper had to say would only disrupt his train of thought. As in any military affair, the campaign progressed at varying degrees. The initial deployment was slow thanks largely to the treacherous crossing of the Murdes Mountains. Once they managed to get the full weight of the army in the field, the advance moved rapidly, only slowing for smaller fights and shadow attacks. Rolnir didn’t know what to expect from Aurec and that unsettled him, so he directed the army to advance with all haste towards the capital. Take the castle and the rest of the kingdom would fold. Or so he hoped.

Finally, the general said, “Their entire defense hinges on Aurec. I must know where he is.”

“Headed north the last we knew. He could be anywhere by now.”

Rolnir shook his head. “No. I think he is much closer than we believe. Aurec has all of the advantages except strength. He can pick up and move quickly whereas we take time. I think he’s going to strike the supply lines. They are our most vulnerable point of attack, and we don’t have the manpower to defend them and carry on the offensive.”

Piper scanned the map. His combat experience during this campaign was limited to two battles. Pride demanded more. Anger at his initial losses still burned in him. He would not find satisfaction until the prince and he came face-to-face. The guilt from losing so many men in that first battle insulted him, clouding his judgment.

“Are you listening?”

He looked up, cheeks flushed crimson. “Sir?”

Rolnir scowled, but kept silent. He understood. He’d been there himself long ago. The best thing for it was to let time heal. He decided to take Piper’s mind off the past. “I asked if you were ready to lead the advance.”

“Just give the word.”

Confident, and slightly cocky
. Good, Rolnir mused. The sting of the initial defeat
hadn’t yet rendered him useless.

“Take a full battalion out and scour the enemy positions an hour before dawn. Secure and prepare for further infiltration. I want to be within sight of Rogscroft proper by the end of the month. We must move quickly. Winter is nearly on us and the last thing we need is to be bogged down and cut off from our supply lines for four months. Hells, it’s already snowing. Any more and we might need to sit tight until spring.”

“We may not have a choice. The enemy is unwilling to fully engage,” Piper replied quickly. “They will try to delay us for as long as possible and let winter hinder our campaign.”

“It would not be the first time such has happened.”

“But?” Piper asked. He already knew the answer.

Rolnir raised an eyebrow. “You know exactly what I am talking about.”

He nodded emotionlessly. Badron. The king was the single biggest distracter in the whole campaign. He, more than anything else, was hampering the army. The war might easily hinge on his fanciful obsession with King Stelskor. His fervor was already having a negative effect on morale. None of the soldiers knew the true reasons for the invasion, but their king proved more than willing to sacrifice them all for his gains. That didn’t sit well with any soldier. It fell to Rolnir to keep as many of them alive as possible for the return home.

“I suppose this is where we come in,” Piper said.

“I suppose it is. Go and prepare your men.”

* * * * *

Badron paced uncontrollably across his tent. Anger threatened to consume him. Hundreds of enemy soldiers were dead, wounded or captured, and it wasn’t enough. He wanted more. More blood, more battles. More victories. King Stelskor mocked him from the sanctity of his castle.

“You are too tense, King,” Amar Kit’han hissed from the furthest corner.

Badron scowled darkly. “Ever you come uninvited.”

“No man commands me. I have come and gone as I pleased for hundreds of years. Do not presume to demand so much of me.”

The Dae’shan sidled from the shadows. Amar towered over the king, a hulking mass of mystery and despair. His very presence sent shockwaves of violence through the tent. Badron struggled not to cringe lest this abomination found advantage in it.

“I come with news,” Amar told him.

Badron wearily sat on his field throne, a makeshift bundle of wood and metal. However genuine, he had doubts as to the validity of the Dae’shan’s news. “What tidings do you bear? Something to end the war quickly I trust.”

Amar regarded the man through the swirl of shadow and repressed the urge to slit his throat now and be done with this affair. “Tidings of blood and steel. Lord Harnin successfully captured your brother and daughter.”

Badron reluctantly stared into the darkened hood. “Go on.”

“Apparently your Harnin acted overzealously. He had his mercenaries murdered on the docks and your family imprisoned. Both shall be dead soon, I have little doubt of it. He is a cold man.”

“How could you possibly know all of this?”

Amar Kit’han hissed laughter. “I know many things. Did you forget that I am not the only one of my kind? There are no secrets in all of Malweir that we do not have access to.”

“Harnin has been my most trusted advisor for decades. I cannot believe that he would turn against my wishes now and execute my daughter.”

Even as he spoke the words Badron had a sense of foreboding. He had spent his entire lifetime hating. First his brother and then his daughter. Both stole from him, robbed him of the finer things in life, thus making him what he was today. But dead? The thought paled him. He had dreamed of the day when his brother would no longer be a thorn, but now that it had come, he questioned whether he had the stomach to make it so.

“All men are corruptible, King. Harnin is not the man he once was. As we speak, your brother’s house and boat lie in ashes. Your dearest friend has ordered the executions of your family. He seeks to seize control of Delranan for himself.”

“Impossible.”

Amar replied casually, “I have seen this with my own eyes. Your kingdom is in upheaval. A rebellion festers in the dark hearts of your people. The world is changing.”

“What rebellion? The population was in full support of both this war and me. What could Harnin have done in the weeks since I left?”

“Your questions are warranted though slightly unanswerable. Men dream of power. It is the weakness of the soul that makes the world such as we see. Harnin believes that it is his time,” the Dae’shan taunted.

His tone was smooth, belaying a deceptive undertone. Badron was already so far under his sway that it was almost insultingly simple. Amar decided to turn the screw a little more.

“Harnin will be dealt with in due time. Maintain focus on the war. Rogscroft must remain your sole objective. All else must wait for another time. Your path to domination begins here, in this broken land. It is the only way to rise to your full potential.”

Destructive visions flashed across Badron’s eyes. The future lay open, a future in which he was the supreme power. He licked his lips as the Dae’shan continued to weave his web. Many paths, previously unimagined, were opened. Badron saw a future where he not only ruled Delranan, but all of the north. An empire so mighty all Malweir would tremble for generations.

* * * * *

Long lines stretched from the hidden caves as the warriors of Pell Darga clans left their loved ones and went to war. Their ferocity matched their environment. Cuul Ol and the other chieftains relied on the myths told about them to gain advantage over the invading Delranan armies. Fear was sometimes more powerful than an actual spear. That same fear pulsed ahead of the Wolfsreik wherever the army moved. Anywhere except in the mountains. The Pell Darga held no fear for any race, especially not their own.

Despite rumors and stories, the mountain folk weren’t violent at all. They kept to themselves, shunning the lowland societies for their corruption and greed. Kingdoms of lesser virtue thrived in the lowlands, all but forgetting the simpler tribes of Men. The Pell thrived in the heights of the Murdes Mountains. Inhospitable on the best of days, their scouts and hunters ranged far and wide for game and fish. Elaborate cave systems were dug deep into the mountains.

Cuul Ol stared up at the cloud-covered sky. His broad, flat nostrils flared as he took in the scents blown his direction. “Wolf soldiers come soon.”

“How can you know?” Durgas frowned, trying but not picking up anything unusual. “The stench of our warriors masks the wind.”

Cuul studied his friend. Short and powerful Durgas was one of the best. A brave hunter and cunning warrior, he was the only one in a generation to have gone single handedly into the den of a cave bear and come back with a head. Such things were just not done.
A good man. Perhaps my successor
.

“Scouts have returned. Many soldiers on the way,” Cuul answered.

Durgas frowned. His thick brows furrowing deeply, reminding Cuul of winter caterpillars. “Why look skyward?”

The chieftain of the Pell smiled, curt and crisp. “To see if it will snow.”

More warriors filed by. Each bore their fabled short spear and a dagger strapped to their hip. Most were covered with heavy animal pelts from bears and wolves. Their hair was mangy, hanging down past shoulders in jet-black waves. Their dark brown skin blended perfectly with the aged tree bark around them. Only the sharpness of their hardened eyes gave their presence away.

“We must return to camp,” Cuul said after a moment. His eyes never left his warriors. Men who would much rather be left alone with their families. Men who knew there was no choice but to step forward to defend their homes. “The prince is waiting.”

“Let him,” Durgas said. “He is trouble, Cuul Ol. Our life was peaceful before the lowlanders came. Now we go back to war.”