The Right Hand of God (51 page)

Of their fate, no one could say. Another five thousand, his mind noted, adding them to the total.

Then there were the fire-tipped arrows. Legions of archers had come in close to the Falthan lines, exactly where the front lines were closest to the supply wagons and the command tents, and fired arrow after arrow, continuing long after they were surrounded. The archers made no effort to defend themselves: in fact, they were armed with nothing other than the longbows they used to loose havoc on their opponents. Leith wanted them held captive, but did not arrive in time to prevent the archers being hacked to pieces by a vengeful army, frustrated at having to watch their friends and countrymen methodically obliterated just out of their reach.

The fires were difficult to put out, as the river was nearly a league away. According to the Chief Clerk of Instruere, nearly half the wagons were destroyed.

Yet there seemed as many Bhrudwans as ever. His strategists assured him that it was not so; that they suffered grievous losses, that they were only two-thirds of what they had been. His mind processed the numbers without his volition: perhaps thirty-five thousand Bhrudwans still remained - if they had not received reinforcements, his constant worry. Until his army was some distance further down the valley, he could not send spies to report to him about Bhrudwan supply lines and possible reinforcements.

Certainly the Falthans had received no extra soldiers, and might not receive any for some time. The Saristrians would come, he had been assured, but they would either have to cross the formidable Deep Desert or sail to Instruere. Even

if their loyal king had raised an army as soon as he'd received news of the Jugom Ark, it would be many months before they were seen on the field of battle. Nemohaim would send no soldiers; neither would Firanes. Anyway, both places were still too far away to make a difference, as was Plonya, from whom some help might be expected. What of the losian?

Were the Wodrani likely to descend in their thousands from the hills to the west and fall upon the Bhrudwan army? Those who knew of them said they were very few, and not much interested in the affairs of the First Men, secure in their mountain fastnesses. Who else?

Possibly the Pei-ra .. .

Leith pulled his mount up, sickened. After slowly climbing for a few minutes, the road had been about to descend a steep slope. For a moment the horse fought him, but then halted on the crest of the ridge. O Most High! The Pei-ran navigator had promised him a thousand warriors in exchange for free access to Astraea, and Leith had committed himself to sealing the bargain over a meal. The meal had never taken place. How could he have been guilty of such an oversight? He could see it now: the navigator waiting patiently, denied access to Instruere until finally being told that Leith had departed - or perhaps even standing sadly in the crowd that cheered their departure. The thousand warriors would remain on their islands, and the Pei-rans would never return to Astraea.

At that moment the Knights of Fealty began to file past, now numbering less than eighty riders on starving mounts and perhaps fifty pages. At a sign from Leith they halted.

'Is Sir Amasian among you?' Leith called to them. It would be just his luck if the seer had been slain that very day.

'I am,' came the reply, and a horse and rider emerged from the group.

'I wish to have words with you, Seer of Fealty,' Leith said

politely. Sir Chalcis nodded, and shook Amasian's gauntleted hand. Within moments the Knights of Fealty had ridden off into the half-light.

'I will rejoin them later,' the knight said quietly. He looked beyond exhaustion.

'How fares the battle?' inquired Leith gently, his head still filled with his blunder.

'The battle is a terrifying place,' the old man replied, his faceplate open, his breathing laboured. 'I am shocked and upset by every death, whether 'tis friend or foe. 1 cannot see how this is the wish of the Most High. Better to let the Bhrudwans have what they want. Yet I know that this is not so, and that many valiant deeds are done daily on the battlefield. Ah, Arrow-bearer, 1 was not made for this! I should have remained in my tower, seeking wisdom and insight at the hand of the Most High!'

'Yet you are here, and you might be of assistance to me.' Leith's words trailed off, and he turned to the north, where the knight's attention had suddenly been taken. From their vantage point on the ridgetop they could see back across the wide valley towards Adolina, perhaps half a league in the distance. The setting sun sent her last rays to illuminate the town... Leith and Amasian the Seer gasped together. Both knew what they were seeing.

Smoke rose from the village. Down the slope behind the town swarmed the Bhrudwan army.

Flames burst forth from the base of the smoky columns. Dark figures moved along the lanes, climbed over hedges, many carrying torches. The flames reached into the darkening sky. Now the two men could hear screams.

'I didn't think they would bother with the village,' Leith whispered. 'We warned them, begged them to leave.'

'Perhaps they have,' the old man replied. 'Perhaps we hear the Bhrudwans dying in traps left for them.' But his voice was hesitant, filled with doubt.

'This is - this is on the ceiling. Next to the Skull Rock picture. This is one of your visions.'

'It is,' said Sir Amasian, entranced. 'The first one I have seen in reality.'

'Oh, Sir Amasian, why did my path have to include this?' Leith cried. 'Why do I have to preside over so much suffering? Why is it all being charged to my account?'

The old knight did not answer, but his presence comforted Leith. They stood there together as the sun set behind them and watched as the fires raged, then died down. A light snow began to fall, a forlorn attempt to cover the desecration. The vanguard of the Bhrudwan army approached them, a grey, shapeless mass spread across the valley, a swarm of parasitic insects feeding on the corpse of Faltha. The two men watched until the last possible moment, then urged their horses down the road and back to the Falthan army some distance ahead.

'Stay with me,' Leith asked the old man. 'Remain by my side. Perhaps the key to our victory might lie in your second sight.'

'Certainly, my lord,' Sir Amasian replied. 'Certainly.' And he smiled at the boy: so young, so brave, and with so little faith. Such a fragile vessel for the will of the Most High.

The Falthans adopted a strategy of deceit and subterfuge to disguise their purposeful retreat.

They put forth a show of force, rotating their army to expose fresh troops every few days, alternately holding the Bhrudwans up and then drawing them onwards. Twice they drew numbers of their enemy forward, away from their main force; and these they utterly destroyed in the manner learned from the Bhrudwans themselves - but their grim harvest totalled in the hundreds, not in the thousands. They looked to manoeuvre the brown army away from populated areas, sometimes abandoning the highway to divert their pursuers around towns and cities. In these cases they spent time digging up the road and disguising it with hedges transplanted whole from nearby farms. The citizens of Saumon, safe on the far side of the river, stood on the banks and called encouragement to the Falthans as they trudged past, then hid in their homes as soon as the Bhrudwans came within bowshot, having heard the tales of what had happened to pretty Adolina. Further south the leaders of Turtu Donija threw down their bridge before the Falthans arrived. Indrett and her fellow strategists cursed their cowardice, having planned to cross the river before casting the bridge into the swift-flowing waters, but Leith understood. We of Loulea surely would have done the same. And it meant that another number was not added to the hideous total.

So the weeks passed, and the Falthans led the Bhrudwan army south through Piskasia, then west past Kaskyne. Some thought was given to crossing the bridge and seeking the much narrower (and therefore more defensible) southern path through Vulture's Craw, but the capital city of Redana'a had perhaps twenty thousand people, and Leith was not the only one who objected to their sacrifice.

Some time during the interminable journey back through Faltha, the army - or at least that part of the army whose homes were in northern lands - celebrated Midwinter's Day. One year ago, Leith remembered, this all began. The Midwinter Play had featured himself and Stella, and then later that night his parents had been snatched away from Loulea. His mother and father had been rescued, but Stella was lost. Leith celebrated with his Loulea friends and family but, like them, his heart was heavy and little was said.

Late one night a figure crept closer to the tent of the Arrow-bearer. Servants waited outside the entrance to the tent, ready to do the will of their master, but he wanted nothing to do with them. It should be easy enough.

No moonlight, no starlight, only the flickering of firelight from the various watch-fires set around the camp. The flickering helped the man escape detection, as it was much easier to conceal movement in moving light. He would move slowly, taking as long as was necessary, for what he had to do tonight was crucial to the success of his army.

Perhaps half an hour later he stood beside the tent he had been so patiently moving towards.

Through the thin tent-skin he could see that the boy was awake, reading some document by the light of the legendary Jugom Ark as if it was a mere torch. Good. He did not want to have to wake the boy up. He eased the tent wall up, then slid underneath.

The boy heard something and swung around on his pallet, hand grasping the Arrow. The man put his finger to his lips and the boy nodded, then indicated that his unexpected visitor should find himself a seat. The man sat on the edge of the boy's pallet.

'Son, I've been sent to talk to you,' said Kurr, the old farmer. 'I've come late at night and unannounced to spare you any embarrassment.'

'Embarrassment?' Leith responded, puzzled. 'How so? Why would I be embarrassed to have you visit me?' Then, as the import of the words hit home: 'What do you mean, "sent"?'

'From the look of it, you seem not to want to associate with your friends or your family,' said the old man testily. He held up his arms, cutting off Leith's retort. 'Just listen, boy. See it our way. You haven't spoken with your brother since the night you questioned him - I don't criticise you for questioning him; 1 have some of the same concerns. You avoid your father and mother, choosing to speak to your mother only as much as is necessary even though she is now in a position where your close cooperation is needed. Don't you know that they are sick with worry over you? Trouble with you, boy, is you've grown up too quick. Think you're above dealing with the people you once depended on. We know you have an intolerable burden to bear. We can't hold the Arrow for you, so we want to do the next best thing, and hold you up against the forces that seek to destroy you. But we can't do that, boy, if you won't let us near.'

Leith shook his head at the unfairness of it all, and he could not keep the tension from saturating his voice as he explained things to the old farmer. Avoiding his parents? He'd looked for them time and again, only to be drawn back into the responsibilities of command.

Avoiding his friends? Phemanderac continued to avoid him, and a look of shame in his eyes whenever Leith cornered him drew their conversations to a swift end. He would have loved nothing more than to confide in them, but he thought they expected him to bear up without their help. How could they understand the burdens he carried? Did they carry a tally around in their heads, one which grew every day? Did they carry in their hand the Hope of Faltha, a weapon that was no weapon? Did they carry on their faces a false smile, placed there to keep the Falthans in good heart?

The old man listened to the boy's litany of complaints,

then stood. 'It comes down to this. You let go the people that matter most in the quest to protect them, and you wind up losing even when you win. Numbers are deceitful things, boy.

Fifty thousand able-bodied men, fifty thousand dead or injured: in the end not as important as one Company, a handful of friends, one family. One brother. Go and make your peace with him, Leith, and everything else will fall into place.'

'Hal sent you, didn't he,' said Leith flatly.

Kurr looked at the boy, his eyes narrowed. It was as well to remember that he was clever, much cleverer than he appeared. Truly the son of his father. 'Yes, the cripple sent me. He warned you about this. You need to keep the love of your family close to your heart and always in your thoughts at times like this. Come and visit your friends, son, come and call on your family. There'll be no recriminations.'

'You can tell Hal you delivered his message like a good delivery boy,' Leith said, intending the insult, and was savagely glad - and bitterly hurt - to see the old man's face harden. 'Leave me to think on what you have said. Go out the door, go past the guards. I am not ashamed of you.'

'But I am ashamed of you,' the old man growled. 'A boy called to be a man, but who insists on acting like a boy. Well, boy, I am leaving. But remember that a boy needs his friends and family if he doesn't want to grow up into a lonely and bitter old man.' The old eyes fixed on the young man's pale face, holding his gaze. After a few moments, Leith dropped his head.

Without another word Kurr turned on his heel and left the tent, occasioning grunts of surprise from the guards outside. For a long time after the flap had closed Leith lay unmoving in his pallet, staring at the play of light on the ceiling. Finally he rubbed his eyes and turned away from the light, seeking the questionable solace of sleep.

The Lord of Bhrudwo understood his enemies and knew what motivated them. Constantly they underestimated him, thinking him mortal like them, limited as they were limited. How could they know that at various times in the last hundred years he had travelled to Faltha, had lived and walked in their towns and cities? How could they even suspect his planning would be so meticulous? He learned so much and forgot nothing, his disciplined mind a repository of transcendent wisdom. As a consequence he knew that uppermost in their minds would be concern over the numbers of dead and wounded - in particular of those whose misfortune it was to live in the path of the conflict. Bizarrely shortsighted or simply sentimental, they would protect these people even at the risk of losing the war. He challenged them at every opportunity by sending men to destroy the villages the Falthans tried to save, on occasion having some of the inhabitants publicly tortured, so as to unsettle them.