Doom's Break (6 page)

Heuze congratulated himself on the qualities of the place. He had chosen it from the map. Deep water, close to shore, well protected from storm winds.

He'd built eight forts on similar locations around the southern part of the monkey coast. This one was close to where he'd won his great double victory over the monkeys almost two years before.

Three forts had been lost, but lessons had been learned with each loss. No fort had fallen in the past three months, though all were besieged. It was a different way to fight the war, a way that played to the advantages Heuze held over his enemy, the mysterious commander of the monkey hordes.

Based on an island south of the land his fleet was seeking to colonize, Heuze held the sea and could operate upon it with relative impunity. Ashore, the Shasht army faced an enemy with uncommon tactical skill. Heuze had faced that enemy himself and been forced into a desperate retreat to the sea.

So Heuze had turned to a war of forts. By coming ashore, building a strong point and keeping a garrison big enough to hold it, he forced the monkeys to react. The territory all around each fort was at risk of his raids. So it emptied until the monkeys placed troops around the fort to invest it. A war of sneak attacks and raids it was, but it kept the monkeys on the defensive and perpetrated the idea among the colonists that the war was being prosecuted toward some end.

Sometimes, though, even Heuze wondered if they could ever succeed. This was their fifth year here, and for almost two years they had not even dared put an army ashore, just the small garrisons in the forts. The truth was brutal. The colony could not suffer any more casualties and remain viable. Between the terrible plagues and the fierce battles of the first two years, they had lost half their number. Heuze had barely nine thousand soldiers fit for battle.

But, he consoled himself, as he often did, there were only three Gold Top high priests left in the fleet, and the hordes of Red Top priests had been decimated. Their power was broken forever. Worship of the Great God among his men had become much more muted since that time.

Heuze, himself an unbeliever, didn't care much what anyone believed. As long as they obeyed his orders, they could worship Canilass or Buliferri or anything they liked. And as long as the Red Tops stuck with their ceremonial duties, he would let the survivors live.

His barge was ready. While he was lowered on a stout line, a horn blared to announce his departure for the land. Heuze prided himself on not being an invalid, even though he'd lost one leg from the knee down. The sailors, the backbone of the fleet, knew that their admiral was still a seaman. His personal aide, Ensign Combliss, had readied a spot for him, but he knew better than to try helping the admiral sit down.

Once he was seated, the barge shoved off. Rowed by twelve men, stout and true, it raced over the water to the beach. Heuze splashed ashore and was met by General Polluk's aide, Fode.

"Welcome to Fort Aeswiren, Admiral," said Fode, eager to help Heuze up the black shingle beach.

Heuze shook off the man's hand. He'd not be helped by some whelp like Lieutenant Fode. "This isn't the fort, Fode."

"Ah, no, sir. Step over this way, please."

Fode was reasonably sensitive, and he immediately toned down his fawning.

Heuze stumped up the stones of the beach and across to the lower station on the rope hoist. Heavy cables rose from the beams and pulleys in the beach station to the cliff top. A squad of a dozen burly slaves, many of them former Red Tops, stood ready to work the capstan.

It was a long way up. For a moment, Heuze questioned whether he really wanted to do this. Then he realized it was too late to back out. That would ruin him with the men.

Besides, his suggestion to put the fort up there had been a brilliant stroke. The place was damned near impregnable. He ought to take a look at it, enjoy the sense of accomplishment.

So, with a deep breath, he pressed on. Men could ride up the cliff on a simple loop attached to the main cable or they could go up in a chair. Heuze, thinking further about his reputation, put his good foot into the loop and took hold of the rope with both hands.

"All right, Fode. Lift me up there."

Fode turned to the sergeant in command of the station. A whip cracked, and the slaves heaved on the cable.

Heuze left the ground with a lurch and swiftly ascended. The capstan turned quickly with just his weight on the line. Heuze felt butterflies in his stomach as he contemplated the rock wall whizzing past him. Then the rope spun him around and he saw the seaward view. In the middle distance loomed the
Anvil
. Farther away, out beyond the headland, he could see the white pyramid of sails of the frigate
Cloud
, which was on station to ward off any fireships that the monkeys might try to send in against the flagship while she was moored in the bay.

Farther away still, white clouds rimmed the horizon to the south. Weather was blowing up from the sea.

The rope spun him around again. The walls of rock rose to the upper platform. He was almost there. Men were lined up, peering over the precipice at him as he came up on the cable. Heuze chuckled to himself at the figure he was cutting. Troops had to be inspired, and they could only be inspired if they respected their commander.

At the top of the cliff, the cable ran to a twelve-foot crosstrees. Below this was the landing stage and the main platform. The cable came to a halt. A soldier hooked the admiral's loop line and drew him safely across to the landing stage. Heuze stepped off the line onto his peg leg and stumbled, but he did not go down.

Cursing softly under his breath, he got his crutch under his arm and straightened up. A horn was blaring to greet his arrival. The officers saluted, and behind them was a line of men awaiting his inspection.

Heuze saluted back, then stumped along the line, staring into each man's face for a moment. They liked him, and he knew it. He was popular with the ordinary troops, mostly because he'd broken the damned priests, but also because they recognized something of themselves in him. They trusted him in ways they didn't trust their own generals, who they knew were all lapdogs, chosen for their obedience.

The men in the fort were veterans of the Third Regiment. They'd seen action in three battles against the monkeys and taken their share of casualties. As Heuze passed them, they exhibited the faintest of wintry little smiles.

At the end of the line, Heuze spun about on his peg and saluted them. "Looking good, Third Regiment, looking good. A great bunch of grim-faced rogues if ever there was one."

They smiled a little more broadly at that.

General Polluk accompanied him on a tour of the fort. There wasn't much to see. While the sense of airiness and space from the location atop the cliff was very strong, the interior of the fort was mostly dug into the ground. The men had to live in bunkers in almost all the forts, because the monkeys invariably built trebuchets and catapults and threw rocks over the walls. Except for the palisade and towers that blocked the side facing the neck of land, Heuze looked over only the entrances to the dugouts and the reinforced ground shelters.

However, the imperial banner waved above the big gate tower. Heuze smiled at seeing that white flag with the red fist of Shasht, the fist of the Great God, Orbazt Subuus. He didn't give a pin for the Great God, but another banner planted on the enemy shore was a symbol of his own success.

Heuze plunged into the inspections of the underground sick bay, then the kitchens and a scrubbed-down barracks, all dug into the hard ground of the cliff top. At each stop, Heuze exchanged banter with the men. Morale was good, even though they were under siege. The food supply was adequate; there was water and even ale now and again. The monkeys weren't terribly aggressive either, though they were building those siege towers. The soldiers didn't take too much notice of the small rocks; every so often, however, the big trebuchet out in the forest would launch a boulder. Those could be dangerous.

Their spirits had been raised by the strong rumors that they were going to launch a sally into the woods and scupper the machines. Everyone itched for the opportunity to get to grips with the monkeys again.

After seeing the barracks, Polluk accompanied the admiral on a progress along the battlement. The palisade had taken a few hits over the months from the big trebuchet. The wall had been broken here and there and repairs patched in. The parapet and battlement had been shattered on one side of the gate tower. The footway behind the wall was still jury-rigged.

Up on the gate tower, they studied the terrain inland. The ground was broken by small hillocks. Trees covered everything in a deep green mantle. Heuze was always shocked by the fertility of the land here, so unlike his homeland. In the near distant trees he could see the enemy's siege towers. They were still unfinished, but not too far from completion. Something was going to be done about that, swore Heuze, and very soon.

Later, when Heuze and Polluk were alone in Polluk's quarters, a dugout about ten feet across, Heuze relaxed and took a mug of ale.

"Safe as houses in here," said the general as he yanked the stopper from a flagon. Heuze cast a glance at the tree trunks that had been laid end to end to form a roof over the dugout.

"Well, General"—Heuze raised his mug—"here's to Fort Aeswiren!"

"To the fort!" Polluk raised his mug, then drained it and poured again.

"And, so, General, you've had a week to get ready. When do you strike?"

Polluk had the look of a capable fellow, tall with a square head and a dueling scar on the right side of his face. He was the last of the generals selected by Nebbeggebben for the expedition. All the others were gone now.

Polluk was looking nervous. This inquisition by the admiral was something he'd been dreading. Perhaps the fate of so many other generals was in his mind.

"Well, Admiral, I think we are finally ready to make an armed sortie against the towers."

"Good news. I have been impatient, General. It's a fault of mine, but this campaign has been a long one, and I wish it were over."

"Yes, Admiral. Everyone looks forward to the day when we have peace."

"Hmmm. The road to peace must be made from our victories, as you know."

"My command is ready. We have massed almost eleven hundred men in the fort. The enemy has not visibly reinforced. We suspect that they may not have seen our reinforcements, who all came in the night as secretly as possible."

"Excellent."

Heuze smelled victory. He had been involved in the planning of this from the beginning. The only way to get anything done well was to do it yourself.

Polluk warmed to his theme. "I intend to attack both siege towers simultaneously. We think the enemy has only a few hundred troops in our area. His patrols are rarely done in strength. We can see the same two or three hundred soldiers in visible positions."

"By the great purple ass! You can tell them apart?"

Polluk colored. It might be dangerous to admit such a thing, but it was the truth.

"Well, yes, Admiral. We have studied them very carefully. There are differences in the faces and ears. The eyebrow tufts are often different, too."

"Peel 'em and fry 'em, that's what I say. They're all the same when they're cooked, eh?"

"Yes, Admiral. Do unto them as they would do unto us, so it shall be."

"Have you been able to scout?" Heuze touched on a difficulty faced by all the fort commanders.

"Not very well. The enemy always seems to spot our men. They hardly ever get back."

Heuze nodded. Like everyone else he wondered what happened to men who were captured by the monkeys. If they behaved the way Heuze and his men customarily did with captive monkeys, then the scouts would have been killed and eaten.

"Horrible to think of being captured. They eat their prisoners, no doubt."

"Disgusting animals, daring to eat human flesh. We must exterminate them."

Heuze chuckled. "May the gods give us strength!"

"Sing the praises of He Who Eats!" General Polluk spoke loudly from the habit of a lifetime of truckling to the goddamn priests.

Heuze sighed and waved a hand. "Yes, yes. But the fact remains you have little information about what lies out there."

"We have seen their camp. Just a few primitive tents. They don't seem to use wood for construction."

"Only one camp?"

"Well, there are others, but as I've said, our scouts rarely survive to tell us what they've seen."

"A pity. But you're sure that you're seeing the same pack of monkeys day after day?"

"There's only a few hundred of them, it seems."

"Good. So, tell me, General, what are you planning to do when you capture these infernal towers of theirs?"

"Burn them and retire into the fort."

"I see."

Heuze had finished his mug of ale. He held it up for Polluk to refill from the jug on the table. It was poor stuff compared to the wine and rum they'd had when they set out from Shasht, but it would have to serve.

"Here, General, let's drink to victory!"

Relief surfaced on Polluk's simple face. It looked as if he was safe. One could never be sure with the admiral. He had a harsh reputation among the generals of the army.

Heuze was watching him carefully, waiting for just the right moment.

"But, I must say, General Polluk, this plan of yours is not especially ambitious, is it?"

Polluk goggled for a moment. The general felt that he was taking a huge risk. He planned to attack both towers at the same time, using surprise as his weapon. That wasn't ambitious enough for the admiral?

Heuze put a hand on the general's shoulder while favoring him with a patronizing smile. "You see, General, if the enemy is as weak as you think, then it may be possible to trick him into a confrontation that we can win without much loss to ourselves."

Polluk stared back, puzzled.

"And if we can kill a lot of them, it will help us take control of this region. We need victories. We need the taste of meat!"

Polluk still stared.