Arm Of Galemar (Book 2) (99 page)

 “And if you are caught slinking around under his very
nose,” she harshly directed at Sloan, “that might shake any overconfidence he
might be harboring!  You will stay there until the assault, and
only
then will you attempt to move!”

She sealed it with her own authority and invoked the
knight-marshal’s for good measure.  Celerity extracted their acknowledgement as
officers before vanishing from the glass.

Kineta spit venomously to clear a foul taste from her
mouth.  Sloan gazed blankly at the mirror for six or seven heartbeats before
addressing Marik.  “See to the hunting, and be quick about it.  The night and
the hollow will hide the smoke of a cook fire.”

Marik slipped away with the mirror, glad to leave them
both behind.  He collected Dietrik to go hunting as well, figuring that an
extra blade would be welcome should his magesight be unable to steer them
around all the black soldiers in the night.  Dietrik nodded, and though Marik
half-expected his friend to gloat over being correct that the mirror had proven
useful after all, he only remained solemn.  Probably he dwelled on the fight
ahead and calculated what role they would play in it.

Edwin perked up for the first time Marik had seen
since the battle in the pass.  He collected his gear in short order, ready to
hunt.  Several First Unit men joined them to act as donkeys for carrying the
fresh meat back to the camp.  They passed Kineta still lurking near the narrow
crevice.

So
, Marik
silently thought,
it looks like we’ll be going home after all, provided we
kill a deer large enough to feed us for two or three days.
  But he
remembered clearly how battle plans never outlasted the first engagement, and
wondered how the coming clash would play out in truth.

*        *        *        *        *

“Sub-Major Fective, Sub-Major Ceede, take your
regiments to the town at the pass’s base.  Over-Captain Owden will direct you
to reinforce the soldiers in-kingdom according to unit distribution.”

The two officers saluted General Adrian crisply before
spinning on their heels to lead the thousand men assigned to each.  Adrian
addressed Major Sereno.  “You stay and hold this pass.  Keep our route through
the mountains secure.”

Major Sereno also saluted, though without the
whip-crack movement of arm as his two subordinates.  As a full major, he could
risk questioning his general, albeit carefully.  “Sir.  Are you certain?  We
have left most of our men too far behind to arrive quickly.  The natives still
persist in their refusal to give over.  I would wager my pension that our
forces will spend three months securing their hold on the newly taken
Tullainian lands before they will be free to begin subjugating this side of the
range.”

Adrian stared at him before responding, as if he had
needed a moment to craft a suitable answer.  “Speed will be the essence in this
stage, major.  We dallied too long before and allowed the foreign land the
opportunity to plague us with its own attacks.”

Sereno looked dubious.  He cast his gaze over the view
from the high pass.  “This kingdom looks far greener that the dry waste behind
us.  These people will be adept at using their terrain to their advantage. 
Haste may cost us, sir.”

Again Adrian paused before answering.  “This kingdom’s
army is still bleeding from its war with their neighbor, by all reports.  They
will be less of a hassle than the brown-skinned amateurs who have already
fallen before us.  I will keep Colonel Harbon nearby, if that eases your
worries, and my own personal guards in addition to his men.”

Major Sereno saluted.  His concern still hovered
around him in a cloud, no appreciably thinner than before.  Adrian spurred his
mount down the slope.

The two-hundred soldiers forming the general’s
personal guard wrapped around them while he rode, Harbon at his side.  They
thundered toward the flatland in a rumble of cavalry, eight-hundred hooves
pounding their beat on the shuddering earth.  Two divisions, both under the
colonel’s command, waited to great them.  Once they swallowed the lesser
company, over a thousand men set out south at a sedate pace.

Adrian stared ahead, apparently deep in thought while
his men watched for danger despite this area having been cleared by the initial
strike force.  Harbon rode at his stirrup, the few low exchanges presumed by
the men to be quiet discussions concerning the campaign.

“We will arrive by tomorrow afternoon, barring
unforeseen circumstances,” Harbon whispered.  “But to be on the safe side,
perhaps you should collect the Taur forces along the way.”

“Should I collect the Taur forces along the way?”
Adrian asked in a dreamy whisper.

“Yes, you should, Adrian.  Any uninitiated soldiers we
take into the forest will need to die once we reach the heart.  While that
would serve a noble purpose, better, I think, to take only the Taurs to deal
with any…surprises, that might have been left behind.”

“I should collect the Taur forces along the way.”

“Yes.  You are wise, my general.”

“I should collect the Taur forces along the way.” 
Adrian’s voice rose in a strong command.  “You!  Send out messengers to find
all the Taur packs between here and the southern command!  Order them to
proceed directly to Mendell’s camp with all speed!”

“Sir!  Yes, sir!”  The guardsman wove his horse
through the unmounted soldiers to exit the throng.

“An astute command, general, sir,” Harbon nodded.  In
a lower voice he added, “Very smart indeed.  Are you excited, Adrian?  Can you
feel the winches and gears of the world spinning faster as the Day of Glory
approaches?”

Adrian had taken to staring ahead.  That was well,
too.  The general would understand soon enough, when the obsidian knife freed
his sweet life energy to serve a higher cause.  And he was not alone.  Many
faithful Taur controllers had managed to join the first ranks through the pass
with Mendell.  Harbon would take them into the forest.  Any heathen controllers
among them could be left beyond the trees with Mendell, or dealt with easily
enough once away from the soldiers.

Harbon felt the delectable pull grow with every step
closer to the trees his mount brought him.  Soon.  Soon.  Soon.  Once Adrian’s
hot blood coated his hands and his energy was used to shatter the last shields
around their prize…oh, the magnificence!  The glory!

To the men around, he seemed calm as he sat his horse,
but inside he danced in exultant ecstasy.

Right there.  Right there, and there is nothing I can
do about it!

:Impossible!  Will you allow an outlander to claim his
life?  Will his blood stain an outlander’s steel rather than our own because
you
are too much of a coward to claim our rights?:

I am no coward!  I will go there alone if I must!

Yes, he would claim the Dead Man’s life, the commander
of these murderers.  What did it matter if the price demanded would be his own
in return?  How would he reach that imposing tent, though?

A war raged below the tree he perched in.  The day was
two candlemarks past the dawn.  As the damnable mage had promised, kingdom
forces had descended half a mark earlier to attack the invaders’ base camp. 
They would have robbed Colbey of his long-sought prize were it not for the
Taurs that had begun arriving late in the night.  Forty already milled in a
loose pack outside the tents near the forest.  Their numbers doubled when more
continued trickling in after sunrise.  Until the surprise assault.

The powerful monsters not only prevented the
Galemarans from destroying the five-hundred man camp, they were effective
enough to nullify the kingdom forces’ advantage.  Eighty massive, terrifying
Taurs fought alongside the black soldiers to hold back a full regiment and two
divisions.  Two-thousand Galemaran soldiers should have run roughshod over
these foreigners in their lands.

But these pitiful outland fighters were astonishingly
naïve, allowing their shock at seeing the Taurs to freeze their hand and
immobilize their legs.  Easy prey for the savage beasts, who slaughtered dozens
without receiving a single counterattack.

Stupid fools!  Their own deaths contribute nothing
except to demoralize their shieldmates.  Astounding how half-witted these
dullards are, throwing away their lives to no purpose.  If they had any skill
at all, they should distract the Dead Man’s men enough to allow
me
to slip through.

As of yet, the Taurs surrounded most of the eastern
camp, fighting the Galemarans.  Black soldiers fought to the sides, none daring
to come between the snarling monsters.  The idiot leading the surprise assault,
a fool riding along the frontline’s rear, holding his sword high and
encouraging the men to a quicker death,
still
failed to order flankers
to move around the black soldiers and attack where the defense was weaker.

Most of the enemy soldiers were either fighting or
positioned in the western camp.  The leader, the Dead Man, kept enough guards
around his tent to void any chance that Colbey could close enough to make the
kill.

So damned close, yet still beyond his grasp! He felt
pain in his stomach, watching the battle unfold.  A fiery knife stabbed at his
midriff, churning his guts.  The whole long hunt, and here, now, his quarry
stood less than a mile distant.  All his skill as a Guardian would be for
naught.

:We need an opening,:
Liam whispered. 
:With so much activity on their
eastern flanks, their men and attention is centered there.  A strike against
their rear would shatter them.:

Yes.  But the fool rider hasn’t re-deployed his men. 
And if he does, they will move to counter.

:The Dead Man has kept his own guards in the rear with
him.  All we need to do is draw them off.  Or less than that!  Disrupt their
formation enough, and that will suffice.  You have the skill to pass through
then, a shadow slipping through the cracks.:

Colbey’s eyes narrowed.  The encampment lay slightly
less than a mile east of the Stoneseams.  They had kept from pitching their
camp on the Rovasii’s immediate border, leaving a half-mile buffer between
their tents and the trees.

With such opposition washing against their defenses,
they could not afford to pull fighters off the front.  Colbey smiled, teeth
glinting in the morning light.

He swung down from the tall tree.  Timing would be
critical.

Quick minutes later he dodged through the trees
abutting the crevice hiding his ‘shieldmates’.  A sudden urge to laugh welled
from within, which he choked down.  It would not do to seem anything other than
professional.

The two sergeants waited inside the entrance.  Across
from them sat the mage, no doubt itching to find a new way to interfere.  He
had proven most troublesome by upsetting Colbey’s plans in numerable ways. 
Both sergeants sought his second opinion every time he wanted them to move
according to his greater purpose.  It proved the wisdom in the village’s
philosophy; mages were never to be trusted, the worst breed of outlander
miscreant.

Let him attempt to do so this time.  Whatever he saw
with his queer perceptiveness would be nothing except the unvarnished truth, or
as much as Colbey wanted him to see.

“It is time to move.  The battle has started.  They
are too close to the trees to pass between, so we will move north, along the
mountains.  All the enemies nearby have moved south to join the battle.  The
field will be clear.”

“We heard,” Kineta responded with a quick glance at
the mage.  So the mage had already been out to look, had he?  Did he want only
to monitor the enemies, or had he been
spying
on him?

Probably the later.  This disgusting mage has crossed
me at every available opportunity.  Now he follows me with his witchcraft,
prying into business of no concern to him!  How dare he!

Colbey kept his face neutral while his fingernails dug
into his palms in knife points.  “Once we travel two miles, we will cut back
east, then south to rejoin the divisions attacking.”

“Why make such a large loop?” Sloan demanded. 
Colbey’s glare nearly slipped past his control before he stopped it.  “If we
dash through the trees, we can meet with the army in less than a quarter of the
time.”

“I saw black soldiers swarming their southern tents. 
It might only be a rally to redouble their defensive efforts, but it might be a
prelude to fleeing into the trees.  Do you wish two or three-hundred black
soldiers coming upon you?”

“Let’s go, Sloan,” Kineta said with traces of
weariness.  “We haven’t run afoul of this ‘haunted forest’,” she mocked in the
mage’s direction, “but the sooner we’re on the move, the better.”

Sloan arched a silent question at the mage, who stood
with his friend and stepped closer.  “I haven’t sensed anything about the forest
yet,” he awkwardly informed his sergeant, “but we haven’t gone in very far. 
Still, with all this…this
noise,
I guess, or
presence
from the
battle, the Rovasii might wake up, or take notice, or do whatever it does.”

The Fourth’s sergeant spoke to Kineta.  “Fine.  We
will leave the trees to the ghosts.  Let’s move.”  She frowned, not caring for
Sloan’s apparent blessing, or what it implied about who had the final say
between them.

Colbey spoke before they could penetrate deeper into
the hollow to gather their men.  “I will return and continue scouting in case
of sudden changes.” 
Yes, sudden changes.  And while you are all being
slaughtered by the Dead Man’s guard force, he will be vulnerable!  His death
will be remembered a hundred generations hence, and I will make him feel pain
equal to what every last one of my people suffered!

He whirled to leave when the odd voice echoed through
him a second time. 
:Against…:

Colbey froze.  He listened hard, searching his entire
inner being.  At his side he felt Liam and Sylvia waiting, watching over his
shoulders with bloody eyes and broken bodies.  Nowhere did he feel this third,
this flickering specter who had found enough strength to speak, yet lacked
enough to retain a presence.

Who are you?  I must have known you for you to find
your way to me!  Have you come to lend me what strength you can as well?
  No reply came.  He waited ten heartbeats, then a
further ten beyond.

His people were restless, urging him to claim their
vengeance.  They felt their murderer’s presence so close to the Rovasii and
their tormented souls called out for Colbey to bring his Guardian skills
against their killer.  It would grant them the peaceful rest they craved.  That
was why the third had spoken again.

Go back to the others, then.  Today will finally bring
the end to it.  After the years of waiting, I will finally avenge you all!

His village.  His
people
, all of them closer
than family.  They had made him into a warrior befitting the Guardians.  Best
of the best.  Elite.  He would use their teachings to destroy this vile
commander who had dared think he could treat the village as he liked.

:Against…:

Yes.  I will go against this vile man.  Watch, and
take pleasure at his demise.

Smiling heartily, Colbey slipped through the crevice
to run, run, run with all the stamina
only
a true Guardian could summon.

*        *        *        *        *

Marik stood with Dietrik after the sergeants left,
watching his friend prepare for the coming candlemarks.  It always fascinated
him to see Dietrik cast away hesitations or worries.  He breathed deeply, eyes
closed, one hand on his rapier’s swept hilt and the other on the matching
main-gauche.  His body almost stiffened as he prepared for battle.  Even his
aura shifted slightly.  Any faint swirls, so like a wind passing through morning
mist, slowed until they were as sedate as deep water.

It only took a brief moment.  Marik knew he saw how he
himself must look when he heightened his battle instincts to their full.  He
enjoyed it especially today since it meant Dietrik had finally gotten over his
doubts.  When he’d woken that morning, complaining of a stiff back from
sleeping curled around a boulder, he’d been the same old Dietrik Marik knew and
loved as a brother.

He could never say that aloud.  Still, it was an
unspoken truth most in the band recognized, he believed.  The bond between
shieldmates could run deep, connections sacred in their intensity, and it would
be a blasphemy to either acknowledge them or take them for granted.  Dietrik’s
returned self-assurance since fighting the black soldier lightened a burden
Marik had only been half aware of.

Dietrik smiled, that half-cocked grin Marik knew, and
they both swiveled for the boulder where their packs still rested.  The odd
utterance from Colbey made Marik turn back.

“Against…”

Marik waited, wondering what Colbey wanted.  His voice
had sounded most peculiar, both strained and empty.  He noticed the scout
staring blankly at the stone wall a dozen feet away.

In fact, he looked asleep where he stood, with his
mouth slightly parted and that idiot’s gaze at nothing.  Marik nearly stepped
back to shake the man.  The scout abruptly jerked and glanced sharply around. 
No enemies were anywhere near the hollow, Marik knew.  Perhaps Colbey sought
after an insect that persisted in annoying him.

Colbey had been acting strange enough that Marik
wanted to avoid any arguments. 
Leave well enough alone,
as his mother
had been wont to say whenever she caught him poking at a crate stack or tugging
on a log set low in the woodpile.

And yet he watched the scout for another long moment
until the man grinned.  He looked like a hangman who loved his work and had a
full roster lined up for a busy day.  “Against…” he muttered a second time, the
moment disjointed because of the despairing tone whispering through that
scythe-smile.

“What do you suppose he’s about this time?” Dietrik
asked at his shoulder when the scout jumped through the narrow crevice.

Marik shrugged.  “I don’t have the faintest.”

“At least he’s cleared off for awhile.  He’s been
making my skin prick lately.”

“He’s off to scout, and that’s what he’s best at.” 
Marik gave Dietrik a head-to-toe appraisal.  “You all set for an interesting
day?”

Dietrik laughed.  “I could have done with a bit of a
lie-in this morning.  It was hardly a restful night, what with freezing to
death on a rock pile and wondering if the bleeding tommyknockers would crawl
out of the deep forest to butcher us where we lay.”

“Now you can wonder if we’ll have to fend off the
hell-beasts before you can find an empty patch in an army tent tonight.”

He instantly wished he could erase what he had said
when Dietrik grimaced, the dark cloud returning to his face.  “Those bloody
monsters are the
real
tommies,” Dietrik muttered.

“Don’t worry about them,” Marik announced with
confident assurance.  He wanted to keep Dietrik from sinking back into a black
mood.  “I’ve been going over everything I know about them since dawn, and
everything I’ve done against them.  I think I can handle them, but if we’re
going to fight anyone, it will be those soldiers! 
They’ll
fall under my
blade like wheat before a sickle.”

“It’s too bad you have no penchant for hats, mate. 
I’d like to see if any that might have fit you before still do.”  Dietrik
seized Marik’s half-helm.  He twisted it where it sat on his head.  “Has this
become too tight on that swollen head of yours?”