"But he might if Cobar attacked. Is that it? He might send his horse companies, because he knows we don't have that far to retreat." Tuft frowned. "What are you suggesting, elf? That we go out and sting the bear, then lead it back to our house?"
"Not lead them home," Despaxas said. "Just let your warriors draw out Lord Kane's horsemen and keep them amused for a time. Lead them in circles or something for a few days. How difficult can that be… for the world's finest cavalry?"
"I don't mind putting arrows into some empire soldiers," the man admitted. "Nor do I mind leading Lord Kane's clanking churls on a merry chase. But I don't commit my warriors without knowing why. You were talking about dwarves a few minutes ago. Does this have to do with them?"
"Of course it does." Despaxas's level-eyed smile was as innocent as a baby's, but Tuft had long since learned that the elf's look of smooth-faced innocence was most pronounced when he was at his most devious and calculating. "Derkin's Chosen Ones are tough and well armed, but they are still dwarves. They've done well harassing humans in the past, but only as small raiding parties. To launch and sustain a major assault, dwarves must have a secure base. Let Derkin's dwarves entrench themselves in Tharkas Pass, and you know what will happen next."
"Sure." The Cobar nodded. "All blazes will break loose there. Tharkas Pass is right in Klanath's lap. Lord Kane can't tolerate a hostile base so near his headquarters. He'll have to drive them out."
"He'll have to try," Despaxas said. "And when he tries, Derkin will counterattack."
"You don't really believe a bunch of dwarves can take Klanath, do you?"
"I don't know." Despaxas shrugged. "Our Derkin has changed since you saw him last, and you haven't seen his army. The point is that Giarna isn't likely to run his troops and supply lines through a battlefield. He isn't interested in those dwarven mountains, or in Sakar Kane's ambitions."
"But if they don't cross the mountains there…"
"Exactly. The only other supply route from Caergoth to the southern plains is nearly a hundred miles north. They will have to go all the way around our forests. Even Giarna's best don't care to face the Wildrunners on their own ground. If the dwarves break General Giarna's supply lines at Tharkas, it will add weeks-maybe even months-to the time it takes supplies and reinforcements to reach the invasion forces."
"And give us that much more open country to-as you say-amuse them in," the Cobar noted, a fierce grin ruffling his beard.
"Is that reason enough?" the elf asked quietly.
Tuft rose to his feet, crouching slightly to avoid the low braces of his tent. He turned, opened the flap, stepped outside, and stopped, his eyes narrowing. Directly in front of him, something floated in midair-something that might have resembled a lazily swimming bat-fish if it had not been so hard to see. The Cobar whirled and stepped back into his tent, glaring at the elf. "Why did you bring that thing here?" he demanded. "You know my people don't like it."
"Zephyr won't hurt your people." Despaxas shrugged. "And I needed him. It has been a long time since we last met, Tuft. Humans sometimes change."
"So you had your pet shadow read me?" The Cobar's frown deepened. "And what does he say now?"
"He says that your soul is as strong as your heart," the elf said. "Just like before."
When Tuft stepped out again, Zephyr was nowhere to be seen. With a shudder, the Cobar took a deep breath. He knew that the verge-swimmer meant him no harm. He had accepted Despaxas's assurance of that long ago. Still, there was something about the idea of a magical creature that could be seen only in shadow, and that had the body of a manta ray and teeth like scorpion stingers-a thing that appeared and disappeared at will, and that could read a man's soul as easily as a man might read a scroll- that revolted him.
Tuft whistled-a call that any but a Cobar might have mistaken for a night bird's shrill. Immediately, all around him, the quiet camp began to teem with activity.
Tuft stepped back into the tent and picked up his boots. "We'll leave at first light," he told the waiting elf.
Less than five miles to the east of Klanath, the wall of soaring peaks that framed Tharkas Pass turned and divided, ranges of peaks extending north and south, separating the mountain fastness of old Kal-Thax from the foothills and plains that rolled away to the east. And it was here, where the giant range turned, that the road from Caergoth entered a narrow, winding valley called Redrock Cleft. The valley was a natural pass leading to the eastern slopes beyond. From it, the empire road wound downward in a series of serpentine arcs and switchbacks, to become many roads on the plains below.
It was through this cleft that the original armies of conquest had gone, heading for the southern plains and the elven forests beyond. And it was through this cleft that supply trains and reinforcements now moved, refreshed by a midway rest at Klanath.
Three days after the visit of Despaxas to Tuft Broad-land's camp, a long line of men issued from the cleft. Nearly eight hundred in all, with pack animals among them, they bore the banners of the empire and marched at the steady pace of men who have come a long way and still have a long way to go. There were three companies, assigned to join General Giarna's forces in southern Ergoth.
An hour after clearing Redrock Cleft, the rank was snaking down the slopes with the gentler foothills ahead. Another hour passed, and the road became gentler and straighten In the rough lands above, many of the soldiers had marched with shields on their arms and swords in their hands in case of ambush. But now, as the land grew flatter, most of them slung their shields and put away their blades. They could see for miles out here, and there wasn't anyone in sight except themselves.
Then, abruptly, there was. With shrill battle cries and thundering hooves, a hundred mounted barbarians charged over the rim of a little draw that hadn't seemed deep enough to hide a rabbit. Like messengers of death, the riders came, bows drawn full and the slanting sunlight brilliant on beaded buckskins and featherwork headgear.
Within a heart's beat of the first battle cry, the galloping attackers were thundering down upon the panicked line of soldiers. Arrows pinged and thudded among the footmen, aimed with deadly accuracy and driven by stout bows. Dozens of soldiers fell, and more dozens broke and ran in blind panic. Behind the barrage of arrows came the howling riders, bows slung now, and gleaming swords flashing as they charged through the ranks of soldiers, wheeled around, and charged again, laying about them with swift blades that ran red in the sunlight.
Then, as quickly as they had come, the riders were gone. Disappearing through their own dust, into that same eye-fooling draw they had come from, they reappeared on the far side, loping away casually toward the north. Behind them, the ground was littered with dead and injured empire soldiers. Officers ran here and there, calling back their troops, trying to restore order.
"Cobar," a senior officer muttered, looking after the retreating horsemen. "What are Cobar doing this close to Klanath?" Turning, he raised an arm, signaling others to him. "Send runners with signal mirrors back up to the cleft, on the double," he commanded. "There is still good light. From there, signal Klanath what has occurred. Tell Lord Kane that if his men move at once, they can catch those Cobar and make an example of them."
"Catch Cobar?" a junior officer questioned. "Sir, those people are…"
"Are you blind?" his senior snapped. He pointed. "You see where the barbarians are going? Look beyond them. That smoke in the distance must be their camp. They think we won't follow them, because we are not mounted. They are as stupid as they are arrogant. Do they honestly believe that a mounted battalion can't find them?"