Shards of a Broken Crown (53 page)

Moving slowly
forward, he saw his footmen were upon the battlements and locked in
hand-to-hand fighting. “Dismount!” he shouted to his men.

They did, and
Erik said, “Follow me!”

He ran through
the gate and the men behind him saw what had made him stop the
advance. Just behind the gate lay a pit ten feet deep, with sharpened
wooden stakes. The gate was only six feet wider than the pit, three
on each side, so men could move around the pit, but a horse could not
pass.

Erik urged his
men through the smoke and blinked tears from his eyes. “Where
is all that smoke coming from?” he shouted.

“Over
there,” came the familiar voice of Jadow Shati.

Erik looked
where his old friend pointed, and said, “Damn.”

“Yes, man,
damn and damn again.”

Four hundred
yards up the highway, thousands of men were lined up in ranks, with
officers and cavalry mounted to the flanks and rear. More catapults,
mangonels, and ballistae were apparent. This was not a defensive
position. This army was making ready to attack.

Suddenly Erik
saw what was about to happen. He glanced at the wall through which he
had fought and realized that if it were knocked down from behind it
provided a massive bridge over the trenches on either side of the
pit.

“Back!”
shouted Erik, and the order was passed.

“Get back
and get ready!” shouted Jadow.

Erik raced back
to where his horse was waiting, and he leaped into the saddle. The
sound of horns and the shout of men up the highway told him that at
last he was going to join battle in the field with General Fadawah.
And Erik’s only thought now wasn’t on victory, but rather
on survival.

Men stalked the
Woods.

Subai moved
quietly but with purpose, following the river. Most of his men were
dead, though two might have gotten over the ridge to make their way
along the eastern face of the mountains down to Darkmoor. He prayed
it was so.

He had made it
through a murderous journey lasting weeks. His Pathfinders had skills
unmatched by any on Midkemia, save the elves and the Rangers of
Natal. But Fadawah’s defenses were bolstered by something far
more terrible than mere human ability: they were aided by dark magic
Subai did not understand.

It became
noticeable when they passed the first of the true southern defenses.
Besides the death and destruction, there had been a feeling of
despair everywhere, as if a miasma of pain and hopelessness hung in
the air. The farther north they traveled, the worse the feeling
became.

They saw little
of the coastal defenses for a while, as they moved north while the
road to Quester’s View turned northwest. When they reached the
road from Quester’s View to Hawk’s Hollow, they
encountered more indications of dark powers.

Not only had the
northern ridge above that road been fortified, the southern ridge had
been decorated with a grisly set of corpses. Wooden Xs had been
erected along the ridgeline, with a human prisoner nailed to each.
All had expressions of horror on their faces, showing they died from
wounds, rather than exposure and crucifixion. Most had their throats
cut, but a few had their hearts removed, their chests showing gaping
wounds.

And the dead
were not just men. Women and children had also been murdered for this
hideous display.

Two of his men
had died an hour later, as terrible-looking men wearing scars upon
their cheeks and seemingly possessed of inhuman strength and
determination had chanced upon Subai’s camp. From what
intelligence Subai had read on the Emerald Queen’s army, he
knew these men were most likely Immortals. Originally the honor guard
of the Priest-King of Lanada, they were ordinary soldiers turned into
murderous fiends by black rites and a diet of drugs. The Emerald
Queen had further degenerated them, using one a night in death rites
to continue her eternal youth.

It had been
thought they had fallen out of favor with Fadawah, but they seemed
very evident on the approaches to Yabon.

For the next
week they had been hunted, and two more men had died, leaving it to
Subai to order to his two remaining companions to turn east and find
their way to Loriel, which was still held by the Kingdom. He hoped
they would lead away the pursuing warriors.

Subai had
effectively isolated himself in the hope that one man might slip by
where two would be noticed.

For a week he
had journeyed past patrols and encampments, and each time he saw
another enemy band, his confidence in the Kingdom’s chances of
regaining Yabon was eroded. The theory that only a core of twenty or
twenty-five thousand soldiers remained under Fadawah’s command
was in error. Given the numbers he knew to be deployed down near
Sarth and estimates of what it would have taken to overrun LaMut,
Subai was now convinced Fadawah had at least thirty-five thousand
soldiers under his command.

Subai knew that
if it were true, and if Kesh continued to probe the southern border,
freezing soldiers along the frontier, Greylock did not have enough
men to dislodge Fadawah. It might be possible to retake Ylith, but
the price would be grim.

Subai had failed
to reach Yabon. The city was besieged and there was no way he could
get close enough to attempt to sneak in. He had considered trying for
Tyr-Sog, but found himself behind the enemy’s lines and
realized his best bet was to strike for the Lake of the Sky, and
around the northern tip of the Grey Towers and down into the elven
forests.

Subai had no
illusions. He had been chased for two days, since almost reaching the
Lake of the Sky. He didn’t know if the men who were behind him
were fanatics of Fadawah’s or renegades, but either way he knew
he needed to find a place to rest and something to eat.

He had had no
provisions since a week after leaving the vicinity of Yabon City. He
had foraged and found nuts and berries, as well as snaring a rabbit,
but he hadn’t eaten in the last two days, since being spotted
by his pursuers. He was losing weight and energy, and was in no
condition to fight more than one or two men. If five or six were
after him, to be caught was to die.

He was following
the southern bank of the River Crydee, which began at the Lake of the
Sky. He knew that soon he would be opposite woods that were claimed
by the elves, and that to enter them he would need permission. He
also knew that it was his only chance of safety. There was no way he
could continue to follow the rift down to the castle at Crydee, or
risk moving south through the Green Heart to the Jonril garrison.

Subai stopped
and looked back. Cresting some rocks a mile back, he saw dark figures
moving. He looked ahead and saw a ford.

It was never
going to be a better time, he told himself.

Subai entered
the water and found it rose to his knees. At the height of summer the
water level was lowest, and he knew that at thaw, or after fall
thundershowers, he could not cross here.

He was halfway
across when he heard shouts behind and knew his pursuers had sighted
him. That renewed his determination and he forced himself to move
faster.

He was ashore
when the men following him reached the ford. He didn’t look
back, but dodged into the woods, wishing he still had a bow. He had
watched it fall into a rocky crevasse when he was still in the
mountains, two weeks before. With a bow he could have stopped those
after him.

He ran on.

The light was
falling and Subai was disoriented, but he knew he was moving
generally toward the west. Suddenly a voice from ahead challenged
him. “What do you seek in Elvandar, human?”

Subai halted. “I
seek refuge and I bring messages,” he said, leaning over with
his hands on his knees as fatigue swept up over him.

“Who are
you?”

“I am
Captain Subai of the Royal Krondorian Pathfinders, and I bring
messages from Owen Greylock, Knight-Marshal of Krondor.”

“Enter,
Subai,” said an elf, who seemed to step out of nowhere.

“There are
men following me,” said Subai, “agents of the invader,
and I fear they will be upon us in minutes.”

The elf shook
his head. “None may enter Elvandar unbidden. Already they are
being led away from us, and should they finally escape the woods,
they will be miles from here. Else they may wander until they
starve.”

Subai said,
“Thank you for inviting me in.”

The elf smiled
and said, “I am called Adelin. I will guide you.”

“Thanks,”
replied Subai. “I am almost done.”

The elf reached
into his belt pouch; removed a piece of food, and said, “Eat
this. It will restore you.”

Subai took the
offering, a square piece of what looked to be a thick, hard bread. He
bit into it and his mouth filled with flavors: nuts, berries, grains,
and honey. He chewed it greedily.

Adelin said, “We
still have far to go.” He led the Pathfinder to the west,
toward Elvandar.

Erik washed the
blood from his face and hands, while outside the tent trumpets blew
and horses rode by. Richard, Earl of Makurlic, looked at the map and
said, “We’re holding.”

Erik said,
“We’re losing.”

The
counteroffensive had rolled the Kingdom army back in confusion, until
Erik could order up reserves to blunt the assault. Now they were five
miles south of the original point of contact, and night was falling.
Leland, Richard’s son, entered the tent and said, “We’re
routing them.” He was a likable young man, nineteen years old,
with a shock of blondish brown hair and wide-set blue eyes.

Erik said,
“Hardly. They’re withdrawing to their own lines until
morning. They’ll hit us again.”

The young
soldier was eager, and Erik had been pleased to discover he kept his
wits about him in the midst of battle. He officially was a junior
officer attached to a company of soldiers from Deep Tauton, left to
bolster the Army of the West when the Army of the East withdrew. But
with his father in command of the army, he was acting in an
unofficial capacity as Lord Richard’s adjutant and had picked
up the responsibility of relaying orders to outlying units.

“What do
we do next?” asked Richard.

Erik wiped his
face with a towel and came over to look down at the map. “We
dig in. Jadow!” he shouted over his shoulder.

A moment later,
Jadow Shati appeared and said, “Erik?” Seeing the Earl
sitting there, he changed that to “Captain? Hello, m’lord.”

Erik waved him
over. “I want three diamonds dug in, here, here, and here,”
he said, pointing to three points across the front. Jadow didn’t
wait for further explanation, turning and leaving without even
bothering to salute.

“Diamonds?”
asked Leland.

Richard looked
on in curiosity, too. Erik explained, “It’s an old
Keshian formation. We build up three breastworks, each with two
hundred men inside, but rather than try and build a huge one across
the road, which we wouldn’t be able to finish by sunrise, we
build three small, diamond-shaped ones across the front. Inside we
place pikemen and build up the berm with shields and let them form
defensive positions. The enemy’s horsemen can’t overrun
them easily, and the tendency will be for men to move around the
points of the diamond.”

Richard said,
“That funnels their men into these two constricted areas
between the center and the sides.”

“Yes,”
said Erik. “With luck they get jammed up in those constriction
points and our archers here”—he drew a line with his
finger across the map behind the diamonds— “can wither
any of the enemy who get trapped there. We’ll put a wall of
swordsmen with shields in front of them in case the enemy gets past
the diamonds in quantity.”

“What
about our horse?” asked Leland.

“They hold
to each side of the outer diamonds. If we’re lucky they can
prevent any flanking, and if the enemy retreats, we can unleash them
to harry the enemy.”

“Then
what?” asked Richard.

“Then we
lick our wounds, reorganize, and see if we can do something about
that mess up the road.”

Reports were
filtering back from men who had been cut off and lost for a while
behind enemy lines, and who returned to fill in gaps in Erik’s
knowledge of what was ahead of them. Along with Subai’s
reports, carried back by his first two couriers, Erik wasn’t
optimistic. The fact that no more Pathfinders had returned from
Subai’s journey was also a part of that pessimism. With no firm
picture of what lay closer to Ylith, Erik’s cautious nature
turned his imagination to the darkest possibilities.

As best as they
could determine, not only was there a vast network of fortifications
at the crest of each hill and rise, but tunnels had been dug, so that
reinforcements could be rushed from one location to another without
being exposed to enemy attack. Erik recognized the trap inherent in
the design: to attempt to bypass the fortifications left an unknown
number of enemies at his back, and to stop and dig them out one at a
time meant no hope of relieving the siege of Yabon.

Erik shook his
head. “I’m too tired to think. At this point it seems
possible that our only choice is in the manner of our defeat: either
ride home and dig in at Krondor, or get butchered as we continue to
push north.”

“Can we
not get support from the sea?” asked Lord Richard.

Erik said,
“Perhaps, up here, if we get past Quester’s View.
There’re a number of coves and beaches where we could land men,
but we lack enough ships to get the men there, don’t have the
proper boats for a landing, and if Fadawah positions men on the
bluffs above, none of our men would reach the road.”

Leland said,
“You make it sound hopeless.”

Erik said,
“Right now, that’s how I feel. Some sleep and a meal, and
we’ll see how I feel in the morning, but either way, I’m
not going to conclude anything on the basis of my feelings.”