Denser looked up, anger in his eyes, but it evaporated when he saw the smile on Hirad’s face. ‘Funny, Coldheart. Very funny.’
Hirad reached down his hand. ‘Come on, Denser, we’ve still got a long way to walk.’
Chapter 31
Lord Senedai awoke to the smells of campfires, cooking meat and damp, and the sounds of Shamen leading their warriors in songs and chants calling for the alignment of spirits and the ancient lords of war to be with them this day.
He rolled over on his low pallet, eyes to the slightly billowing roof of his tent. He listened to his men, he caught the whisper of the wind through the camp and he sighed, a deep slow exhalation, before sitting upright and rubbing a hand across his face and through his knotted hair.
‘Attendant!’ he shouted, and his tent door was pulled back immediately to admit a tall young warrior, barely more than a youth. His tanned frame was hard-muscled beneath a tight-tied sleeveless grey shirt and his hair was cropped to his scalp as his rank dictated.
‘My Lord.’
‘Battle furs and breakfast,’ ordered Senedai.
‘My Lord.’ A half bow and he left.
Senedai dragged himself reluctantly from his bed, walked a little stiffly to the door flap and pulled it open a crack. Outside, the pre-dawn gloom was deepened by a misty rain that fell from a heavy sky, punctuated only by the cook-fires dotted around the camp. He set his jaw and moved back into the relative warmth of his tent.
‘So much for the songs of fortune,’ he muttered. A damp battlefield was all he needed. Yes, blood would slick the ground underfoot but rainfall on grass would make the ground slippery from the very start and he had a feeling they would need every bit of help they could get despite their overwhelming numerical superiority.
During his sleepless night he had gone over every option, wishing fervently his catapults weren’t still in Julatsa, awaiting the move to Dordover. He could attempt to simply overrun the enemy, sheer weight and press of numbers driving their bodies into the mud, but that was a charge he would have to lead himself and he found no desire to die this day.
He ate and dressed quickly and walked outside into the slowly lightening sky, to be accosted by a tribesman who thrust a message into his hands. It was unopened.
‘Who brought this message?’
‘A fast rider from Understone, my Lord. He arrived just before you awoke.’
Tessaya had sent word. Excellent. Senedai turned away and unsealed the message on his way to the nearest cook-fire with enough light to see by. He made his way through a mass of warriors sharpening weapons, hefting furs, practising strikes or just talking among themselves, and everywhere the sounds of a camp coming to life filled his ears. Dogs snarled and barked, orders were shouted, fires crackled and popped, tent sides thumped, loose guys snapped and song filtered from all sides. It was hard not to feel confident. The enemy had nowhere to run and it was obvious to even the untrained eye that they were too few.
Yet Senedai felt doubt deep in the pit of his being. And reading the message from Tessaya multiplied his fears. He had hoped to see his Lord marching over the fields to make victory certain that very morning. But there had been a change of plan. Tessaya had had word from the remnants of Taomi’s army that a large force was marching from the south. Senedai was to complete his task with no further help, the message said. Tessaya would join Taomi’s forces and crush the southern enemy. They would then muster on the road to Korina while reinforcements shored up the defences of Julatsa.
Victory was assured, the message ended. The Spirits smiled on them and the enemy gods would look away. Tessaya had made certain of that.
But Tessaya wasn’t facing what Senedai faced. And as the sun lightened the sky to reveal the masked force standing stock still on the ground in front of the ruins just as they had as night fell, the Wesman Lord quailed inside and prayed for an answer to present itself that could save him from humiliation.
Behind him a dog barked and a harsh voice silenced it. At least there was part of the answer. He dropped the message in the fire and summoned his Captains to issue battle orders.
In the light of late afternoon, General Darrick sat around a hastily erected map table with Blackthorne, Gresse and a tired Communion mage. The Wesmen had stopped and dug themselves in, scouts reporting that Tessaya and the southern force remnants had managed to connect.
‘What is all this about?’ asked Gresse. He’d just heard the Communion report and both he and Blackthorne faced Darrick blankly.
‘Look, there’s things been going on you know nothing about. I’m sorry not to have told you but there didn’t seem any point and we all had axes to grind against the Wesmen anyway.’
‘What exactly?’ asked Gresse carefully.
‘This is going to sound preposterous but it’s all true, I swear it,’ said the General. He looked round to make sure they weren’t overheard. ‘There’s a . . . a hole in the sky over Parve. It’s growing and when its shadow covers the city at noon, dragons will invade. Don’t ask me how or why, but they will. The Raven and Styliann have ridden to find a way to close the hole. He went back to Xetesk, and they went to Julatsa. I was left praying they would make it and now it seems obvious they have.
‘But now the Wesmen are threatening even themselves, ridiculous though that sounds, and we clearly have to stop them.’
‘But why have the Wesmen chased them? I mean we’re talking about ten plus thousand running after what they think is six people.’
‘Yes, but they think that The Raven are going to bring back dragons. I mean, they’ve got it hopelessly wrong but that’s what they think. And it makes them very difficult to deal with.
‘More than that,’ continued Darrick. ‘It explains why Tessaya went on the move. Look.’ He indicated the map. ‘Tessaya’s plan was to march on Korina when his southern army sacked Gyernath and his northern took Julatsa, thereby removing supply all the way, north to south, from the strongest Colleges, Xetesk and Dordover. Lystern he can leave until later. He has thousands of men in reserve to defend both cities and the pass so he is relaxed. He also knows, or thinks he knows, that co-ordinated defence of the East is non-existent so even though Dawnthief has removed the Wytch Lords and his own magic, he still believes he can take Balaia. So he wants Korina next to cut off principal west-east supply and break Balaian morale.
‘But not everything went right. For a start, Gyernath survived its onslaught and still stands. To add insult to injury, you two and your motley band of farmers’ boys—’ he imbued the term with complete reverence and respect ‘—have taken the rest of the southern force apart, something he has only become aware of very recently. Next, The Raven reappeared in the East as did Styliann and I, and they desert a siege situation and presumably through torture in Julatsa he has answers to why, but the wrong ones.
‘He knows he has to move fast so he begins to destroy as he moves, knowing we still can’t take the pass and having to hamper our resupply at every stage he can, hence Understone. He is on his way directly to Korina but he doesn’t want to lead us straight past Septern Manse and leave any chance that we can stop his other army - also on its way to Korina, by the way - from catching and killing The Raven. I’d do the same if I held the superstitions they do. On their own, The Raven have already destroyed apparently indestructible forces and he’ll be sure they can do it again. Best not to take chances. Best to see them dead.’
‘So he’ll fight us just to stop us reaching Senedai?’ Gresse’s expression was sceptical.
‘For one, but also because it’s better to fight us there than outside Korina where he thinks, again mistakenly, that we would get significant help. Possibly even enough to defeat him.’ Darrick’s heart was racing and he could see the pieces slot themselves into place in the minds of the Barons.