Exiles of Forlorn (30 page)

“One that assured a glorious victory for the general,” added Claster.

“But cost us the lives of our men.”

I looked at Claster with a sneer. “What did you care? You’d be leading from the rear, right? Hardly any chance of you dying.”

Claster cast his eyes down. Horvis answered for him, “Listen, Lew, we don’t pretend to be the noblest of men. We’re guilty of a great many things, but being careless with the lives of the men under our command isn’t one of them.”

“We weren’t about to sacrifice a hundred men just so some general could get another medal and have a song written about him.”

I looked him in the eyes. He was telling the truth, or seemed to be. He really hadn’t wanted to waste lives. I could respect that. Though I wished he’d exercised such sentiment before lying about Antioc. Though, if he had, we might not have met, so maybe the Daevas had this planned all along.

“How did that get you exiled, though?”

“Instead of supporting his attack as planned, we brought in our men to augment his. He took the field, but lost a quarter of his knights and a fifth of his heavy infantry.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad.”

“It wasn’t,” said Horvis. “By all accounts it was a glorious victory, but it wasn’t quite as decisisive for his men as he wished, and some of the knights he lost were his personal friends.”

“We were brought up on charges of insubordination. Normally, we’d have taken discommendation and possible decommission, a small price to pay to save the lives of so many. But, the general was livid. He called for our heads in punishment. Our only real choice was exile, or death.”

Added Horvis, “So you see: we’re not really that willing to lead men into battle to die, after all. You should find someone else.”

“Two reasons. First of all, your story convinces me that you’re
exactly
the right officers to lead our men in battle. There are no vainglorious generals with petty egos to appease here. Only a colony of desperate exiles fighting for survival.”

They exchanged looks again. Claster seemed to ask what Horvis thought with his eyes, to which Horvis nodded and turned back to me. “What’s the other reason?”

“You’re the only officers we have.”

28.

T
he Scumdogs came a week later. We knew they were on the march well before that, thanks to Uller’s scrying. They set up a camp just around a bend where distance and the forest would shield them from our arrows and stones. Uller counted close to seven hundred of them. We had two hundred able to fight, at best, not including the twenty or so I’d apportioned for operating the onagers.

Sometime in the late day, a party of them approached the wall holding a white flag at the end of a spear. I’d climbed a ladder and taken up a perch near the gate next to Reiwyn, who held her bow at the ready. Same with the two-person teams I’d assigned to manage the
espringals
.

I recognized the barrel-chested, black-bearded one holding the spear as Burlone. “I could take him right now,” muttered Reiwyn. I placed my hand on her shoulder and shook my head. There weren’t a lot of rules in war, but one of them was anyone who approached under the white flag of parlay was to be untouched. In any case, until command was given to begin hostilities, no arrows would be loosed.

Burlone wore a suit of studded leather with a pair of axes hanging from his belt. He had his beard tied in tails that parted over his chest. To his left, the Umbrish hulk, Noosh, stood in a simple breastplate that looked like it had been hammered from wrought iron. To Burlone’s right, Ferun stood, with his eye-patch and longbow, a curved saber hanging from the belt of his thick leather tunic. An olive-skinned Ketish man stood a little farther back. He wore black leather armor that opened at the chest, and had a single lock of red hair tied at the crown of his skull, flowing in the cool autumn wind. His face and neck were covered with tattoos that trailed down over a lean, muscular chest. He could only be Quanglee.

I was most interested in the one standing directly behind Burlone. He seemed rather out of place with the rest of the Scumdogs. He was short, with clean-cut brown hair. He didn’t wear any leather or chain armor like the others.

I heard Arn call my name. I looked over the edge of the wall into the colony and found him standing at the gate with Antioc, Sharkhart and Claster. “You’re with me,” he said. I nodded and slid down the ladder as two guards turned the wheels that lifted the grate. Arn gave me a look when he slid the key into the lock. “What do you think they want to talk about?”

“Maybe they wish to surrender?” That made him smile.

We met them in the field west of the lagoon. Arn stood at the fore, with Sharkhart and Antioc close by. They were the most formidable fighters in the colony, so it made sense they would escort our leader. I kept my distance but got close enough to examine the brown-haired man, to see the hammer on his belt next to a small dagger, along with a few other tools jutting out of pockets and pouches on his vest and belt. He was captivated by my wall. I knew what that meant . . . they had an engineer, too.

“Hello, Sand King,” said Burlone once we were within a few strides of them.

“Burlone.” He barely acknowledged him. His eyes were on Ferun. “What’s he doing here?”

Burlone looked at Ferun and laughed. “I thought it would help if you saw a friendly face.” Ferun grinned at that. My hand inched toward Red. I wanted to cut that madman’s smile off his face.

Arn and Burlone met eyes. “You’ve come to talk?”

“I’ve come to offer terms. That’s the civilized thing to do, isn’t it? And we are all civilized men.”

“Civilized men don’t kidnap women and sell them into slavery,” I said.

Everyone looked at me, making me uncomfortable. Especially Burlone. I got the same wolf-eyed glance from him that had always disturbed me about Ferun, only worse. If possible, Burlone was an even bigger mad dog than Ferun. He was just better at hiding it behind a veneer of boisterous charm.

Burlone looked back at Arn. “You planning to let the wall builder conduct negotiations for you, Sand King?”

“No.” Arn gave me a look that unmistakably told me to keep my mouth shut and turned his eyes back to Burlone. “You come to offer terms?”

He put his thumbs in his belt. “I want your women. Old, young, newborn if you have them. And the boys. They’re popular in some circles.” Burlone’s chest shook as he chuckled.

“Impossible.”

“You haven’t heard my terms.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m not giving you anyone.”

Burlone raised his hand and gestured behind him. We could see the very edges of his army around the bend in the beach. I could smell them from here: a filthy, stinking mass of Scumdogs with cutlasses, hatchets and spears. “You don’t have a choice. I’m getting them one way or another. The only difference will be whether or not you get to live.”

Arn stared at him. “You think I would trade my life for theirs? I wouldn’t accept your terms for a single one, much less all of them. If you think you can take them, come and try.”

“You will die.”

“Many will die,” said Antioc. He stared at Ferun. The bastard stared back. They exchanged that look warriors did when they singled each other out. If we hadn’t been in the way, they might have just had a rematch right there on the beach.

Burlone noticed it too, and laughed. He clapped Ferun on the shoulder before turning back to us. “You have a counter-offer, Sand King?”

“Yes. Leave us alone. We’re no threat to you. We’re able to defend ourselves if need be. Just go back to Drullcove and stop harassing us.”

Burlone sighed. “I brought these boys out. It would be a shame to go to them with nothing.”

“You’ll go to them with their lives.”

They stared at each other for a while. That was when the engineer stepped up and jumped into the conversation. He looked at me and asked, “You’re the wall builder? Lew, is it?” I nodded. “I’m Kane. Marvelous work, it is.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s a shame to destroy such a beautiful thing, but we will bring it down.”

I crooked an eyebrow. “You sound quite certain.”

“Oh, I am.” He nodded. “I’ve breeched walls before, and I’ll breech this one.”

“You can’t mean with sappers and burrowers. The ground is too dense and you’ll never get close enough without us seeing.”

“That’s always the risk with sappers and burrowers.” He pointed at the gate. “I heard you used a
balanagra
lock.”

My face lit up. “I did!”

“Outstanding.”

“Thank you. You know, I always wanted to make one but never had the cha─”

Burlone interrupted me with an exasperated sigh. “I think we’re finished here.”

“Quite,” said Arn. And we turned and walked away.

“What do you think of our chances now?” Arn asked once we were clear of them, almost to the gate.

I shrugged. True, they had an engineer, and more men. But I was willing to bet they didn’t have as many builders as we did. Not that I had very many, but most of mine were conditioned to labor and had the discipline to see a job through to completion. I doubted a bunch of pirates, slavers and raiders had the patience to build a siege tower or trebuchet.

The bottom grate fell with a slam as we closed the gate. Arn slid the latches in place and slid the pin in, locking it with the new key I’d made him to replace the one Ferun had stolen. He dropped it into his shirt where it dangled at the end of a leather thong.

While he was doing that, Antioc turned to me and said, “That little exchange there, between you and the other engineer, that wasn’t just idle conversation between tradesmen, was it?”

I shook my head. “No, my stout friend. What you witnessed was the engineer’s equivalent to chest thumping. He was showing he is aware of the strength of our wall, and that he is confident he can breach it.”

“And can he?”

“Oh, I have little doubt that he can.” I grinned and looked at the ropes running along the side of the gate to the turning bars above that drew and dropped the wolf grate. “But I intend to make it quite difficult for him.”

“Let us hope so,” said Arn. He gestured for me to follow, and I did as we walked toward his yurt. “Once they breech the gate, it will be up to our fighters to kill as many of them as we can.” Horvis joined us then, panting to keep up. How he could still be overweight after living here for a month I had no idea.

“I estimate that we will need to destroy a full two-thirds of their number before they break and run,” said Claster as we walked up the steps and entered Arn’s yurt.

“So few?” asked Sharkhart.

“These are not disciplined men, sir. They may have numbers, but they aren’t used to a ground conflict. They haven’t the patience for a siege war and will attack as an unorganized cluster of individuals.”

Horvis caught his breath and pointed at the wall on the table map. “Wherever they do manage to breech, their numbers may well work against them as they try to fight their way in.”

Claster nodded. “They’ll be choke-pointed, and that’s when our ground archers can inflict the most serious damage.”

“What about the catapults?” asked Arn—I let that slide. “Can we bring them to bear against the breech?”

I shook my head. “I wouldn’t advise using the
onagers
on targets that close to the wall. One wayward shot, and we risk bringing down more of the wall. Besides, we’ll probably be out of ammunition by then anyway.”

Arn leaned on the table and looked down at the map. “Then after the archers, they’ll spill into the colony, and we’ll be fighting them in the streets?”

Claster nodded. “Yes, sir. That’s when we’ll suffer the heaviest casualties. Once we join them in battle, it’ll be man against man, and even the best of ours is outmatched by their fighters.”

Arn took a deep breath, not looking up. “How will we beat them then?”

He asked us all, but Antioc answered, “With faith.” We all looked at him. “Our cause is righteous, our fight just. It is with faith that the Adonai shook the mountains and parted the tides. It was faith that brought the Daevas and their blessings to us, and it is our faith in them, and in ourselves, that will win through the day.”

Everyone was silent for a while. I’d never known Antioc to be particularly spiritual, but here he was invoking the miracles of the Adonai and the blessings of the Daevas. I was impressed. Arn put his hand on Antioc’s arm and squeezed as he smiled. “I hope you’re right, my friend.”

I hoped so, too.

29.

E
veryone had the same question, “When will they attack?” I always had the same answer. “When it is dark.”

As evening approached, Zindet made her rounds, praying with as many people as she could at a time, offering the comforting words of Oralae. But Oralae was a Daeva of the sun, and our enemies were allies of the night. What power could the sun have at night? I was pleasantly impressed with her answer, “In its inevitable return.”

Before the last rays of light fell below the horizon, Arn took his place on the porch of his yurt. He couldn’t build things, and he couldn’t lead the men in battle. He was a decent fighter, but we wouldn’t allow him to stand on the front lines as he wanted. “What
can
I do, then?” he’d asked.

I replied, “You’ll do what kings do. You’ll give a speech.”

Before us, the colony. We were close enough to the wall that men could stand at their posts and still hear and see us. We surrounded the stage, my friends and I. Gargath with his healer’s kit and Hratoe beside him; Uller with his pouches and purses full of sorcerous aids; Reiwyn with her bow; Blackfoot with his dagger, sling, and sack full of rocks; Antioc with his great maul, Zin with her sun disc and book of scripture; Front-Strider with his crossbow; and finally Claster and Horvis with the short swords they’d had made for the battle. Sharkhart stood next to Arn, standing in place as the Sand King stepped forward.

He raised his hands to the crowd, and they quickly fell silent. “I have run before,” he said after a brief pause. “I have run most of my life. I liked to believe that I ran for a noble purpose. That I was looking for something greater than what I saw around me. But I know that’s just an excuse. I ran because I was afraid. I ran because I didn’t want the responsibility life had foisted upon me. I ran because I wanted to run. I am here because it is where I have chosen to be.