Three voitar were there, sabers drawn. Macurdy engaged one of them, leery of the voitu's reach and presumed training. Within seconds he'd cut his opponent badly. The voitu dropped his sword, and Macurdy ran him through. None of them lasted much longer, then his Tigers mopped up the staff.
No one, voitu or hithu, had rung the alarm bell, so Macurdy had one of his Tigers ring it. It was a lot quicker and less trouble than hunting down and rooting out the soldiers. Several hundred responded to the bell. When they found themselves attacked by what appeared to be rakutur, most tried to flee.
The Tigers killed those who didn't flee fast enough, and dug out and killed those who took refuge in buildings. The only Tiger casualties were three wounded, none severely enough that he couldn't ride. Most of the hithar had given up without a fight. Like a rat cornered by a weasel, Macurdy told himself.
Blue Wing had correctly identified the provisions warehouse. It held not only thousands of sacks of grain, but quarters of beef, large wheels of cheese in stacks, and loaves of bread. All frozen, of course.
First Company provided warehouse security guards. Platoons not on guard duty would move into whatever quarters their commanders chose. Some of those quarters, Macurdy supposed, would have stashes of wine, beer, or liquor. He reminded the men that unfitness to travel or defend the cohort because of drunkenness, was punishable by death.
Tiger punishments were commonly draconian.
Macurdy bunked with Vulkan in a single residence that seemed to have been that of the voitik commander. He took his boots off for the feeling of freedom it gave him, and lay back on the featherbed, hands behind his head. "I wonder what Kurqosz will make of this," he said. "I suppose he'll see it in the hive mind."
‹An event like this is likely to cause a vector change,› Vulkan replied. ‹In this instance, however, I sense no change yet.›
"You don't tell me as much as you used to. I hope I'm not missing out on too much."
‹I will advise you when I deem it useful. So far your decisions have seemed quite suitable to the circumstances. Early on I did more tutoring, but now the need seldom arises.›
"The Bible says 'Thou shalt not kill.' "
‹Indeed. And in general it is good advice. But that same venerable book proclaims as heroes many Hebrew warriors who took lives in wars. Neither the Voitusotar nor any other ruthless conquerors can halt the evolution of consciousness indefinitely. Some may even accelerate it. But the Tao foresees the infinite vector sprays infinitely. And if the Voitusotar prevail, the future will be ugly for a long time. That is why I was sent here. And why you chose to come.›
"I chose but you were sent?"
‹In a manner of speaking. Your essence nudged you at critical points, but you the person chose freely, without knowing the circumstances. I also chose, but I knew something of what the stakes would be. And are. So for me the choosing was different, my decision a foregone conclusion.›
Macurdy frowned at the ceiling. Following Vulkan's meanings wasn't always easy. "You've mentioned other great boars," he said. "What are they doing?"
‹One is on the other northern continent, far to the east of voitik domination. The Voitusotar have designs there, too, where their rule would be as destructive as here. The third is near the western side of this continent. If Kurqosz prevails here, he will undertake to engineer something there.›
"And that's all?"
‹Hopefully three of us are enough. At any rate, the sapient bipeds-ylver, dwarves, and ordinary Homo sapiens, along with the Voitusotar-are responsible for their own futures. Their joint future. Humankind was and is an experiment. The others are separate experiments-variations on the theme. And though highly instructive, the experiment with the Voitusotar threatens to be as unfortunate as the high trolls were in their time.
‹Great boars were sent then, too. They worked with the dwarves; something retained in dwarven folklore. Which is, of course, somewhat embellished.›
Macurdy had nothing to say to that. With his hands still behind his head, he closed his eyes. He'd begun to drift off when Vulkan spoke to him again.
‹You mentioned that I had not advised you for some while. Let me break the drought. A raider campaign is good work, but by itself it will not defeat the voitar on this continent. You are well advised to pass its leadership to others, and select a different activity for yourself.›
"A different activity?"
‹Yes. Though the time is not yet upon us.›
"How about a suggestion? A hint, anyway."
‹You will find it. It is only necessary that you be alert to the need.›
Great, Macurdy told himself. I suppose I'll be awake half the night worrying about it.
He wasn't though. Within minutes he was asleep.
In the iron frost of dawn, they loaded their pack animals with food from the warehouse. Finding a pile of pack saddles, they attached a number of voitik horses to their string, and loaded them too.
While his Tigers worked, Macurdy, via Blue Wing, let the ylver, dwarves, and others know about Colroi: a powerful symbolic victory. Cyncaidh reported sending several noncoms west across the Deep River, to personally brief the Ozians, Kormehri, and Kullvordi on voitik tactics.
Before midmorning, the 1st Tiger Cohort headed west across the plain, looking for a fight.
34 Battle of the Merrawin Plain
Despite his supply problems, the crown prince had been feeling rather buoyant since the news, that morning, of the dwarves' march northward. Despite their reputation, he could see no way they could survive the coming battle. They were used to lesser foes, he told himself, and overimpressed by their recent success. They might in fact fight well; it wouldn't surprise him at all. But they were badly outnumbered, they had serious tactical disadvantages, and they'd chosen the wrong terrain.
It was after lunch that Kurqosz's good mood was soured. His communicator entered his office, seeming perturbed. "Your Majesty," the man said, "our occupation force at Colroi has been attacked, and may have been wiped out. By what appears to be a force of renegade rakutur."
"What!" The embarrassment of Colroi being attacked, the possibility that the garrison had been wiped out, the ambiguous "may have been"-it was none of them that gut-punched Kurqosz's equanimity. "Renegade rakutur?" he said. "That's ridiculous! The rakutur are our most reliable troops. And their entire battalion is based right here, carrying out patrol missions. My personal rakutur are within shouting distance of this building, right now. There are no other rakutur on this side of the Ocean Sea, except for Trumpko's detachment at Merrawin, and detachments guarding the various brigade headquarters on the Deep River."
"Nonetheless, Your Majesty, as seen in the hive mind, they look and fight like rakutur."
Together, the crown prince, his aide, and the communicator visited the hive mind to view the event. Kurqosz melded with an officer's time track for maximum detail. And experienced a hithik corporal hurrying into Colroi's occupation headquarters, reporting a column of rakutur drawing up in front. "They're acting strange," he said. "They didn't respond when…"
He was interrupted by shouting in the street. Seconds later, intruders pushed through the door. Anomalies registered at once on the colonel's mind: The trim on their winter coats wasn't right, nor their cap emblems. Their leader had a saber in his hand, and the major had drawn his own. They traded strokes, the intruder's shockingly quick and powerful. The rakutu's saber sliced deeply into the major's upper arm, burning like fire, then thrust like an explosion between his ribs.
The experience kicked Kurqosz out of the hive mind, cold and shaking. Even in a meld, the experience had been less traumatic for him than for the colonel, but it had shocked him severely.