In their first briefings West had found himself outnumbered twenty to one by the two Generals monstrous staffs. He had reduced them, by a relentless process of attrition, to a meagre two officers a piece. The meetings had lost the charged atmosphere of a tavern brawl and instead taken on the character of a small and bad-tempered family eventperhaps the reading of a disputed will. West was the executor, trying to find an acceptable solution for two squabbling beneficiaries to whom nothing was acceptable. Jalenhorm and Brint, sitting to either side of him, were his dumbstruck assistants. What role the Dogman played in the metaphor it was hard to judge, but he was adding to the already feverish pitch of worry in the tent by picking at his fingernails with a dagger.
This will be a battle like no other! Poulder was frothing, pointlessly. Never since Harod forged the Union has an invader set foot upon the soil of Midderland!
Kroy growled his agreement.
The Gurkish mean to overturn our laws, smother our culture, make slaves of our people! The very future of our nation hangs in the
The tent flap snapped back and Pike ducked through, his melted face expressionless. A tall man shuffled behind, stooped over and wobbly with fatigue, a heavy blanket wrapped round his shoulders, his face smeared with dirt.
This is Fedor dan Hayden, said Pike. A Knight Herald. He was able to swim from the docks in Adua under cover of night, and slip around the Gurkish lines.
An action of conspicuous bravery, said West, to grumbles of grudging agreement from Poulder and Kroy. You have all of our thanks. How do things stand inside the city?
Frankly, my Lord Marshal, they are dire. Haydens voice was scratchy with weariness. The western districtsthe Arches and the Three Farmsbelong to the Emperor. The Gurkish breached Arnaults Wall two days ago, and the defences are stretched to breaking point. At any moment they could burst through, and threaten the Agriont itself. His Majesty asks that you march on Adua with all possible speed. Every hour could be vital.
Does he have any particular strategy in mind? asked West. Jezal dan Luthar never used to have anything in mind beyond getting drunk and bedding his sister, but he hoped that time might have wrought changes.
The Gurkish have the city surrounded, but they are spread thin. On the eastern side, particularly. Lord Marshal Varuz believes you could break through with a sharp attack.
Though the western districts of the city will still be crawling with Gurkish swine, growled Kroy.
Bastards, whispered Poulder, his jowls twitching. Bastards.
We have no choice but to march on Adua immediately, said West. We will make use of every road and move with all possible speed to take up a position east of the city, marching by torchlight if necessary. We must assault the Gurkish encirclement at dawn and break their hold on the walls. Admiral Reutzer will meanwhile lead the fleet in an attack against the Gurkish ships in the harbour. General Kroy, order some cavalry forward to scout the way and screen our advance. I want no surprises.
For once, there was no sign of reluctance. Of course, my Lord Marshal.
Your division will approach Adua from the north-east, break through the Gurkish lines and enter the city in force, pushing westward towards the Agriont. If the enemy have reached the centre of the city, you will engage them. If not, you will bolster the defences at Arnaults Wall and prepare to flush them from the Arches district.
Kroy nodded grimly, a single vein bulging on his forehead, his officers like statues of military precision behind him. By this time tomorrow, not one Kantic soldier will be left alive in Adua.
Dogman, I would like you and your Northmen to support General Kroys division in their attack. If your West wrestled with the word, king has no objections.
The Dogman licked his sharp teeth. Reckon hell go whichever way the wind blows. Thats always been his style.
The wind blows towards Adua tonight.
Aye. The Northman nodded. Towards Adua, then.
General Poulder, your division will approach the city from the south-east, participate in the battle for the walls, then enter the city in force and move on the docks. If the enemy has made it that far, you will clear them away, then turn northwards and follow the Middleway to the Agriont.
Poulder hammered the table with his fist, his officers growling like prize-fighters. Yes, damn it! Well paint the streets with Gurkish blood!
West gave Poulder, and then Kroy, each a hard frown. I hardly need to emphasise the importance of victory tomorrow.
The two Generals rose without a word and moved for the tent flap together. They faced each other before it. For a moment West wondered if, even now, they would fall back into their familiar bickering.
Then Kroy held out his hand. The best of luck, General Poulder.
Poulder seized the hand in both of his. And to you, General Kroy. The very best of luck to all of us. The two of them stepped smartly out into the dusk, their officers following, Jalenhorm and Brint close behind.
Hayden coughed. Lord Marshal four other Knights Herald were sent with me. We split up, in the hopes that one of us at least would make it through the Gurkish lines. Have any of the others arrived?
No not yet. Perhaps later West did not think it terribly likely, and neither did Hayden, he could see it in his eyes.
Of course. Perhaps later.
Sergeant Pike will find you some wine and a horse. I imagine you would very much like to see us attack the Gurkish in the morning.
I would.
Very good. The two men left the way they had come, and West frowned after them. A shame about the mans comrades, but there would be many more deaths to mourn before tomorrow was done. If there was anyone left to do the mourning. He pushed aside the tent flap and stepped out into the chill air.
The ships of the fleet were anchored in the narrow harbour down below, rocking slowly on the waves, tall masts waving back and forth against the darkening cloudshard blue, and cold grey, and angry orange. West fancied he could see a few boats crawling closer to the black beach, still ferrying the last of the army to the shore.
The sun was dropping fast towards the horizon, a final muddy flare above the hills in the west. Somewhere under there, just out of sight, Adua was burning. West worked his shoulders round in circles, trying to force the knotted muscles to relax. He had heard no word since before they left Angland. As far as he was aware Ardee was still inside its walls. But there was nothing he could do. Nothing beyond ordering an immediate attack and hoping, against the general run of luck, for the best. He rubbed unhappily at his stomach. He had been suffering with indigestion ever since the sea journey. The pressures of command, no doubt. A few more weeks of it would probably see him vomiting blood over his maps, just like his predecessor. He took a long, ragged breath and blew it out.
I know how you feel. It was the Dogman, sitting on a rickety bench beside the tent flap, elbows on his knees, staring down towards the sea.
West sagged down beside him. Briefings with Poulder and Kroy were always a terrible drain. Play the man of stone for too long and you are left a man of straw. Im sorry, he found himself saying.