Kingslayer (12 page)

He adjusted the headband, making sure that the back flap covered his neck and ears. The fitted army coat he wore had been made with summer conditions in mind, so it had a very light weave to it, but he was still sweating buckets. He didn’t even think of removing it, though, even though it had long sleeves and a high collar. Doing that would remove the only barrier he had from the sun and he’d be as red as a tomato and as prickly as one of those cacti by evening. What he wanted an explanation for was the coat. The pants for the uniform were baggy and a light tan, the perfect combination for reflecting heat in this desolate place. Why couldn’t the coat also be tan and baggy instead of blue and form-fitting?

At least at the head of the army he didn’t have to constantly swallow the dust kicked up. Being general had its perks in that regard. Although his mouth still felt like a dry river bed.

They arrived ahead of schedule by a good hour, and despite only being a thousand in number, the troops at the front line were glad to see fresh soldiers. Darius went immediately to the side of General Mihr, the man who had been holding the eastern front for the past three months.

He found him in one of the wooden watchtowers, standing some ten feet from the ground, which gave a bird’s eye view of the area. Especially in this flat, desolate place, the watchtower allowed an open view for miles around. The inside of it couldn’t be called “spacious” by any stretch of the imagination—room enough for three grown men, at a squeeze. One of the runners had to step down just to make room for Darius to come up.

The shade inside felt cool and welcome to Darius after being exposed to the sun. He enjoyed the sensation for a moment before stepping forward and looking out of the large window. “General Mihr.”

“General Bresalier,” Mihr responded steadily. He looked tireless, despite the fact that he had been deployed here for several months without rest. His peppered hair and crow’s feet spoke of age but the man looked as healthy and fit as any twenty-year-old, and Darius felt sorry for anyone that tried to cross swords with the man. “You are ready to take command?”

“I am, sir.” Despite the fact that Darius outranked him, the other man had a good twenty years on him in age. He felt the gesture of respect was owed. “Where do we stand?”

“Your timing is good. Look there.” Mihr pointed to the northeast, where the mountains rose in the distance. “Do you see them?”

Not really, but he certainly could see the dust they were kicking up. A large army of men and horses were coming their direction. “I certainly do. How fast are they moving?”

“Not very. I think they are tired. Their attacks of late have lost vigor. If they are here before mid-afternoon, I’ll be surprised.”

That gave him three hours at least to put everyone into position. Ample time. “Excellent. Is there anything that I need to be aware of?”

He hesitated for a long moment before saying, “The men here are also tired. Their resolve is still strong, but I fear they cannot keep going like this for much longer.”

Darius had always cursed his luck when he went against Mihr two years ago, as any battle against the man always turned into a battle of attrition that didn’t win him much in the end. He now understood why. Mihr understood that every battle’s success depended on each individual soldier and he accounted for that in his tactics. Darius gave him a reassuring nod and smiled.

“Don’t worry, sir. I took that into account when I made my plans. The freshest ones will man the front lines while the worst off rest in the back. If this goes right, most of them will go home in seven days’ time.”

“I hope your plans work, then.” He turned to face Darius full on and clapped his right hand to his left shoulder. “General Bresalier, you have command.”

Darius returned the salute, clapping his own left shoulder. “I have command, General Mihr. Safe journey home.”

“Thank you.” As he turned to leave, he paused and then turned back. “General Bresalier, I do not understand why you have changed sides as you have done. I
do
know that the queen must have utmost faith in you to put you in charge as she has and I trust her judgment. Will you promise me that Niotan will not fall under your watch?”

It had to have been hard to hand command over to a former enemy. Darius appreciated that he handled this very odd situation with a professional attitude. “She will not fall under my watch, General. I swear upon my god that I will not let that happen.”

The tight worry in Mihr’s face faded and the man relaxed into what was almost a smile. “Thank you, Bresalier. Good fortune to you.”

“Thank you, sir.” With him gone, Darius stuck his head out of the rectangular window and called down to Kaveh, who was standing below, “Have the men fall back and have our relief troops take up their positions!”

Kaveh twisted around and looked up. Seeing his general, he cupped a hand to his mouth and shouted back, “Already on it, sir!”

“And make sure that every man drinks a full flagon of water before he assumes position!”

Even from ten feet up, the confusion on Kaveh’s face was obvious. “Sir?”

“Just do it, Commander!” Darius would have normally explained the rationale behind that command, but it would be hard to communicate something like that while shouting back and forth.

He had made so many decisions and commands that didn’t quite make sense to the Niotan officers that Kaveh apparently didn’t think much of this one. He just saluted and turned to a nearby soldier, issuing orders.

Darius turned his attention back to other matters. The first stage of his plan had the foot soldiers divided up into three groups, one under the command of each of his commanders. Kaveh would take the center position, in front of Darius’s tower. Navid’s men would be on the left flank with Ramin’s on the right, both ready to move in a pincer movement. The tactic could hardly be considered original, but this area was perfectly suited to it. There were mountains on Navid’s side, giving him a natural support, and there were low hills on Ramin’s, also supporting the troops there.

Jahangir had been forced to withdraw several times because of the two flanks pinching in and attacking his forces from the sides, even with the barbarians on the flanks. But
without
the barbarians, it would be a disaster. For Jahangir, that was. Darius indulged in an evil smile of anticipation.

“Why water, shir?”

Darius cast his bodyguard a glance. With Mihr’s aide gone, he had room to be here now. Bohme didn’t really fit in this narrow space. His head barely had an inch clearance. But he didn’t try to persuade the man to stay down on the ground. Bohme took his job very seriously.

“Water,” he explained absently, his eyes returning to the bright landscape outside, “is the source of wisdom. It is how Shaa enlightens us and gives us strength. I discovered early on that if my troops drink a large quantity of water before fighting, they always perform better. The few times I couldn’t convince them to do so, they fought poorly and usually succumbed to heat stroke.”

Another thought struck him and he twisted around to stare down the hole in the floor. “Sego doesn’t intend to come up here, does he?”

“No, shir,” Bohme assured him. “Shaid he would shee to General’sh tent.”

Phew. Darius did
not
want him trying to climb up that ladder with a bad leg. He’d kill himself trying, likely. “Good. Now, let’s see where the enemy is….” He focused on the far distance. Even with the shade of the roof, the brilliant glare of the sun off the sand nearly blinded him. He could still see the dust being kicked up from the army though, making them easy to track.

Mihr had been correct—at this pace, they wouldn’t make it to the front lines for another three hours. Really, what was Jahangir thinking? By the time the man got his men here, and in position, they’d barely have more than three or four hours of daylight left. His men still had to set up camp as well. Would he even choose to engage today?

Bohme came up to stand at his side and peered into the distance as well. “Shlow.”

“Very slow,” Darius agreed, scratching at the back of his head. “I know the man’s sloppy, but there’s limits, surely.”

“You know him, shir?”

“Unfortunately.” Well, fortunately now, because Darius knew who he had to outthink. “I ran into him several times in Brindisi. He’s the type that got his rank through personal connections.” And blackmail, probably. “He’s sloppy, short-sighted and rash. He doesn’t think and tries to bull his way through when he should be fighting smart.”

“Eashy opponent to defeat, then.”

Darius had to agree. “The only thing he’s got on his side is numbers, and even that’s not going to save him, not with the way he’s acting.”

“Sir?” Kaveh’s head appeared from below as he half-climbed inside the watchtower. “I can’t see well from below. How fast is the enemy approaching?”

Darius turned, finding it odd that the man would ask such a question when a runner would normally be sent instead. “Is there a problem?”

“Navid just sent word to me,” Kaveh admitted with a troubled expression. “He said his Night Raiders had a little more trouble than they expected to with the supply trains and they’re behind schedule. He estimates that they won’t get back until late this afternoon.”

A half a day later than planned. Darius didn’t like the sound of that. What kind of delay? Well, not much to be done at this point. “I’ll adjust for that. And your own men?”

“Sir, honestly,” Kaveh glanced down and apparently decided that he didn’t want this to be overhead as he climbed all the way up before continuing, “the men here are beyond tired. They’re willing to obey orders, but it’s like they’re sapped of strength. I wouldn’t count on them much as a fighting force.”

Now
that
sounded like trouble. Darius frowned and looked carefully at the men situated around his watch tower. Truly, they didn’t look like they had the energy to fight. There were lean-to tents popped up everywhere, offering shade for the men, and practically everyone had crawled inside. Most were sleeping, even in the heat of the day. The others just sat about listlessly, barely speaking.

They had been here too long without rest. Darius had brought a little over a thousand men with him for relief, bringing the total here up to seven thousand. But in reality, he maybe only had three thousand in fighting condition.

Shaa preserve us.
Blowing out a breath, he forced himself to calm down and think this through.

“Need water, shir?” Bohme offered sympathetically, apparently well able to read his general’s face.

“A barrel of it,” Darius sighed while rubbing at his forehead.

Kaveh looked between the two of them, baffled, not understanding the inside joke.

“We still stand a chance,” Darius said slowly, thinking aloud. “Jahangir’s sloppiness is going to be the end of him. As soon as he saw the relief troops coming, he should have abandoned his supplies with a minimal guard and double-timed it here.”

“Hitting the troops here that were tired and exhausted before fresh ones arrived.” Kaveh rubbed at his chin thoughtfully, eyes calculating. “That’s true, why didn’t he do that?”

“The man doesn’t think logically.” Thank the gods, otherwise Darius might be done for.

“Hash ten thoushand troops,” Bohme pointed out sardonically. “Maybe not worried about it?”

Darius snorted. “That’s true. That’s the type of bull-headed thinking I would expect from him, too. But that’s a very stupid decision on his part. He’s not going to get here until late in the day, and he’ll have to set up camp before he can actually engage, otherwise his men won’t be able to rest properly tonight. That gives us a full day to build barricades and get ready for him. Kaveh.”

“I’ll put more men with the engineers,” Kaveh offered, already anticipating what his general would say next. “I’ll tell them to speed up as much as they can.”

“Good. Send word to Ramin and Navid to do the same thing. Delay sending out the propaganda flyers until the army over there actually arrives.”

“Yes, sir.” Kaveh turned to go and paused, apparently remembering something. “Sir, Sego and I wanted to know…if the Brindisi soldiers really
do
desert and come over here, what do you want us to do?”

“Bring them to me.” Darius didn’t think more than a handful would try it, but he’d been proven wrong before. “I’ll probably put them with the engineers as laborers.”

Kaveh hummed in approval. “Shrewd, sir.”

“I have my moments.” Darius flashed him a quick smile before turning back toward his window. Keeping an eye on Brindisi’s advance, he ran through a mental checklist. The bounty on officers was out, the propaganda flyers were ready to go, the supply wagons were already hit, the cats exchanged, and the wagon manufacturers probably burned to the ground by now. His fresh troops were more or less in position, and would fall into their formations with a moment’s notice. The only thing not going according to plan was the Night Raiders, but even their delay wouldn’t amount to much in the end, not with this new timetable.

In other words, Darius had run out of immediate things to do.

“Darr take it,” he growled, half-resigned. “I hate waiting.”

Bohme considered his profile for a long moment before venturing, “Thought waiting wash good thing?”

“No, it’s very helpful,” Darius assured him. “I’d just rather be charging forward than sitting still.”

“Didn’t think veteran general would be rash.”

Darius shot him a glare. “
Rash
would mean that I act on my impulses. I know how to sit still.” He just didn’t know how to be patient about it.

Ignoring his bodyguard’s amusement, Darius made a snap decision. No use staying up here in the tower for the next six or so hours. Anyone could keep an eye on the advancing army and give him ample warning. Decided, he went back down the ladder, hopping the last few rungs to the earth.

Glancing about, he found a runner hovering nearby, lingering in the shade of the watchtower. He seemed to be about twelve or so, skin nearly brown from being under the sun too much, black hair cut short. “You. What’s your name?”