The Dark Glory War (27 page)

Prince Scrainwood stabbed a finger at the bridge on the map. “I propose we send troops forward to defend the bridge. A small number of us can hold the bridge against the forces chasing refugees. Prince Augustus’s cavalry and the Oriosan Guards should do the trick. This will free the rest of you to swing around and relieve Svarskya.”

Prince Augustus smiled. “We can do it, I’m certain. It will take us no time at all to reach the bridge.”

The grim smiles and nods of the others gathered in the room seemed to show approval for the plan, but Lord Norrington still stared at the map. He pressed his left hand over his mouth and let his right hand ride the dagger hilt at his right hip. I wondered what he was looking for, and suddenly I thought I saw it.

“Of course.” I smiled, then raised my hands to apologize for my whispered comment. “Forgive me.”

“No, no, Hawkins, no apology needed.” Lord Norrington pointed his left hand at the map. “Tell me what you see.”

I squeezed my way through the ranks to the table. “A couple of things. The fleet that met us probably came down from Crozt, which meant they were sailing for a good eight hours before the battle was joined. That would mean that spies on Wruona probably usedarcanslata to inform the Aurolani we were coming. Attacking us where they did, and using the Crescent Sea against us, they pretty much made Mirvostok the only harbor we could hide in. Given that the fleet had at least eight hours of warning, we have to assume land troops did as well. Chances are they’ve already reached the Radooya Bridge and may even be on this side of it.”

Lord Norrington looked up at Prince Scrainwood. “I think Hawkins has the right of it. If I let you two go, you could well run into a large force already on the road.”

Scrainwood curled a lip in my direction, then nodded to Lord Norrington. “I realize the potential risk, but have we another course?” Sarcasm dripped through his words as he asked, “Perhaps you have another plan, Hawkins?”

I shouldn’t have risen to the bait, but I did. “Well, if we were able to land a forcenorth of the bridge and hold it or destroy it, that would cut off the force that’s moving against us now. That would lessen the troops we’ll face at Crozt or Svarskya.”

Scrainwood traced his finger along the coast near the bridge. “It’s all impassable; says so here on the map. Nearest you could land would be twenty miles north of the bridge.”

“Begging your pardon, Highness, that’s not ‘zactly so.” A grizzled old native fisherman scratched at his throat. “This map here, it’s by royal warrant. Smugglers here about, so I’m told, know of places where a ship can land to the north. The cliffs there is fierce, but birds nest on ’em and sheep get stuck on them, so they’re not impossible to climb. Or so smugglers brag.”

Prince Augustus laughed lightly while Scrainwood reddened. “Well, Hawkins, it seems your plan has merit. Problem is that shipping a force to your cliffs is impossible, given the state of the sea. Or do you have a solution to that?”

I shrugged uneasily. “How is it that Tagothcha knows which ships have offered him something for safe passage?”

The fisherman smiled, revealing a half-dozen yellowed teeth scattered in his jaws. “We offer wine. Tagothcha isn’t terrible particular for vintage and isn’t hard to trick. Vinegar serves some times, in bad years. We let it pour down the sides of the ship. He knows by feel which ships have been touched.”

“Doesn’t matter who crews them?”

“It’s the ships not the men, near as I can figure.”

I clapped my hands. “Perfect. Heslin was trying to explainarcanslata to me, and he said there was a magick Law of Contagion—things that touched other things bore some of their essence. I know we have some small ships that we can use to send a force north to destroy the bridge. The rest of our ships, though, ought to get through if we trick Tagothcha. If we take apart some of the captured boats and nail some of the planking to our hulls, that contagion thing should make all our ships seem right for passage.”

Lord Norrington’s eyes narrowed as he regarded me. “Do you mean to suggest you understand that much about magick, Hawkins?”

“No, my lord. You’ll be wanting to check with Heslin on all this.”

“Then how … ?”

I blushed. “It’s just camouflage, my lord. If we look like an Aurolani fleet, we’ll be safe. By the time the mistake is spotted, we’ll be in Svarskya, or better yet, Chytrine will be angry enough to stop sacrificing to Tagothcha, giving us a chance to win him over.”

“Ah, I see it clearly now. Thank you.”

Prince Augustus frowned. “The key problem I see with this plan is that if we succeed, we’ll leave an Aurolani army trapped here in the south, bound for Mirvostok.”

“I agree, which means we’ll have to evacuate the town. We’ll organize that effort while our force heads north.” Lord Norrington nodded, then pointed to Prince Augustus. “You won’t be able to take horses, but I would have you lead the taskforce going north. Prince Scrainwood will be your second. I suggest you pick people who climb well.”

“I will. I’d also like people who see clearly.” The prince nodded to me. “If I might, Lord Norrington, I would take your aide, your son, and even Master Carver with me.”

Scrainwood frowned. “They’re mere boys, Augustus.”

“As mere boys they were at Arval, Scrainwood. As men they slew asullanciri. Don’t question why I want them with us, question why I would not.”

Lord Norrington looked at Nay and me, then nodded. “If you were yet boys, I’d keep you here; but none of us are safe on this expedition. Go with the blessings of Kedyn.” is the sun died the next day, we made our mbve. Two of the 11 small boats we’d captured from the enemy fleet hauled an-I Ichor and spread sail. Rain still lashed us, and lightning still flashed. Ballistae on the other ships shot flaming balls of pitch high through the sky, but our little ships evaded them. Cries went up about the escape of prisoners, but we quickly left the chase ships behind and slipped around the headland into the Crescent Sea.

As we came into the open ocean, the waves increased, pounding the headland mercilessly. One of the galleys pursuing us came into view and the waves battered it. The ship turned about, barely avoiding being grounded on the far side of the harbor’s mouth.

For us it was clear sailing, though all of us felt miserable. The rain still soaked us, and our new cloaks did not help much. We’d spend most of the day dressing out dead gibberers and pulling their flesh on over our leather armor. Heslin couldn’t be certain if disguising ourselves as gibberers would help deceive Tagothcha, but he knew it wouldn’t hurt. Fortunately for us, the lack of sun and general coolness meant the skins had not begun to stink too badly.

On each boat we had thirty-six individuals. Twelve of us rowed at any one time. All the crew were volunteers and representative of all parts of the force. Princes Augustus and Scrainwood led, but each ship had a dozen Loquelves in addition to men. Our ship also had Seethe and the urZrethi, Faryaah-Tse Kimp, aboard.

The inclusion of the urZrethi surprised me. I know it was because of her size—it seemed to me that someone so childlike couldn’t possibly scale a three-hundred-foot cliff, much less scale one that was supposed to be impassable. Doing it while carrying over a hundred yard of line looped over her body just didn’t seem possible.

Once, standing in the bow of the ship I smiled at my sulfur-colored companion. “Are you sure you can make the climb?”

“I am from Tsagul. I have spent my whole life in the mountains.”

“I know, but I thought the urZrethi spent their timein the mountains, not climbing around on the outside of them.”

“Even the interiors can require climbing skill, Hawkins.” She brushed her left hand against the bow wale, then tapped a finger on a board that had warped up away from the one beneath it. “This is why I will climb first.”

She stiffened the fingers of her left hand. More quickly than slow, her fingers and thumb merged. The whole hand assumed a sharp wedge shape, which she shoved into the gap. I heard a cracking sound, and a piece of the board splintered and came up. She pulled it away with her right hand. The tip of her left hand had expanded into a block, which had broken the wood. As she pulled her hand free, the wedge flexed. In a heartbeat she waggled her fingers at me.

My jaw worked, but I had nothing to say.

Faryaah-Tse grinned broadly. “UrZrethi have a certain flexibility to our form. We find it … useful.”

“I can see that.” I shrugged uneasily. “And you wear no weapons or armor because …”

In an eyeblink her left hand lengthened and tightened into a stout shortsword blade. “Why chance losing something you don’t need? I cannot shoot bits of myself as arrows, but most of my fighting is done well inside an archer’s range.“

“But doesn’t it hurt when you get hit?”

Faryaah-Tse shrugged as her hand returned to normal. “Does it evernot hurt?”

“Good point.”

Our trip north took just under three hours. We located the tiny smuggler’s cove and beached our ships. We made them fast with lines to the rocks, since the tide was running low and they’d be afloat by the time we returned. We armed ourselves. I went with only a sword and gibberer longknife. Archery we were leaving to the Loquelves.

Faryaah-Tse scrambled up the cliff as easily as I might scuttle across the beach on hands and feet. I couldn’t see her much past a hundred feet up, but in no time at all her coil of rope unwound down the cliff. Nay went up next, carrying two more coils, then a couple of Alcidese warriors from the west made the climb. Once all five lines had been secured at the top of the cliff, the rest of us began our ascent. Those who could climb did and those who could not—like Heslin—would be hauled up last.

Three hundred feet doesn’t sound like much, but when the rocks are rain-slicked, your fingers are cold, and everything you’re wearing is water-logged, the distance seems likely never to end. My feet slipped a couple of times, raking my legs against the rocks. I might have fallen once, but an outcropping caught my belt and held me long enough to find my footholds again. By the time I neared the top, my shoulders and back burned and my legs quivered.

Nay grabbed the scruff of my gibberskin neck and hauled me onto the flat at the top of the cliff. Ahead, I saw the outlines of a couple of the Loquelves crouched on a hill that would take us to the main plateau. The coast road, if the charts had been at all right, would be two dozen yards past the crest of the hill.

Beyond them, limned in the weak grey light the moon projected through occasional breaks in the clouds, I saw the Radooya Bridge. The stone span arched regally over the Dnivep River. Four stone pillars rose from the river’s mist to support the bridge. Little obelisks added spikes to the bridge’s curve, and fires guttered at their peaks.

The sheer size of the bridge did not register until I realized I still had a mile’s worth of march to reach it. The bridge had to be five hundred yards long. The only consolation I got was the confirmation that the obelisks were too small to house any sort of a garrison.

By midnight we’d all gathered at the top of the cliff. The Loquelves went forward, moving through the forest on the north side of the gorge while the rest of us shambled down the road. We all assumed the gibberers and vylaens left to hold the bridge would have good night vision, but just how much detail they could pick out we couldn’t guess. We hoped we’d look like a relief unit, so Faryaah-Tse, wearing the skin of a vylaen, marched in front of us.

Seethe returned from scouting with the Loquelves and found us before we made the final turn in the road to the bridge. “Twenty gibberers at this end and an estimate of the same at the far end. The bridge’s arc prevents us from seeing them, though two vylaens are stationed in the middle to watch both ends.”

Prince Augustus nodded at her report. “Can the archers kill the vylaens?”

Scrainwood snorted. “Two hundred fifty yards or more for a shot? At night, in the rain? Very difficult.”

Leigh shook his head violently enough for his gibberer-flesh hood to fall back. “Doesn’t matter. Have them shoot the near garrison. We’ll be on them and through and get the vylaens.”

“Workable plan.” Prince Augustus dispatched Seethe back to the Loquelves with their assignments. Leigh grabbed Nay and me and hauled us to one side.

“Listen, stay with me. Speed’s the key here.” He smiled and rested his hand on Temmer’s hilt. “First, fast, victorious.”

At Prince Augustus’ order we moved out, marching quickly along the road. As we came within sight of the bridge, I noticed two things. The first was that the garrison of gibberers was mostly lying down on the bridge, sleeping. A handful of them paced at the foot or leaned against the obelisks at the near end. The guttering flames highlighted the wetness of their fur, while the pitter-pat of raindrops on our disguises drowned out anything they might have been grumbling.

We closed to thirty yards before the sentries seemed to take any notice of us. Two started toward us, walking casually, and one raised a hand. He howled something, not loudly, but clearly expected a response.

Before we could have answered him, and before Prince Augustus gave any order, Leigh drew Temmer and started to sprint at the bridge. Each footfall splashed muddy water from the road’s wagon-wheel ruts. There was a madness in his dash that infected me, for I ran a step behind him. I held my sword aloft the same as he did, and I heard Nay bellowing behind me. Raindrops danced hard on the roadway and bridge and all sound save the hoarse thunder of my own breath seemed dulled.

Ahead, gibberers stirred and threw back sodden blankets. Then their movements became jerky as arrows fell among them. One gibberer, with both hands clutching the arrow in his throat, splashed facedown in a puddle. Other figures spun, smacking into the bridge’s posts or walls before they fell. Two seeking to rise crashed back to the bridge’s cobbled surface and yet another curled up around the arrow in his belly.

I remember with crystal clarity the shocked look on the face of one slow riser. An arrow hit inches in front of his muzzle. The arrow bounced straight back up in the air, much as the gibberer sat bolt upright in surprise.