The Vitalis Chronicles: Steps of Krakador (46 page)

“
If there's no way of being certain of our destination, yet we have not the time to waste in making known its location, what are we to do?” He asked the question without bothering to look up.

“
We wait, your Majesty.”

“
But time is of the essence, is it not?” Rendin did look up now. “If the enemy is constructing his great weapon and is so close to finishing it as to withhold his strength from attacking us thus far, is it wise to give him any more space than absolutely necessary?”

“
This time and space is necessary, Majesty.” Beldin walked forward and put his finger on the map. “This could be the location.” He moved it again to another spot hundreds of miles away. “Or this could be it. If we are wrong, we can be wrong by hundreds of miles. Hundreds of miles of enemy-controlled territory that we know nothing about. Territory that is of his own making, in lands of his own choosing. Sire, there is a reason he has brought us here to fight, that he has yet to offer battle. We cannot plunge ahead without knowing where we are making for.”

“
I agree...” Rendin rolled the map up and tossed it onto a pile of similarly discarded parchments. “But I'm afraid we may not have the luxury of making that decision. Morale has plummeted, and difficulty with the supply line is only going to make that worse. We are exposed, and we dare not lose what initiative we currently hold.”

“
Sire.” Beldin moved in front of his king. “If we move into those mountains blind, we will be ripped apart before we even know we are dying.”

Rendin let a long silence pass after that. It was true, but if they didn't strike soon they might have no chance of success at all. “What do you have to report?”

Beldin hesitated now, uncertain or unwilling to say what he knew. “There is movement in the mountains,” he said finally. “I had some men scale the nearest plateaus and scout from the heights yesterday afternoon. They just got word to me this morning.”

“
What did they see?”

“
Something moving across the mountains directly north of us, something quick and dark. They think they may have been Parnithons.”

“
What were they doing?” Rendin was loathe to hear of Parnithons; he had hoped them extinct.

“
We don't know, sire. They dropped from view quickly after they were spotted. Nothing else was seen of them.”

“
Don't we have scouts up that way?” Rendin suddenly thought of Rain, of the danger he had sent her into.

“
Yes,” Beldin was yet hesitant.

“
What is it?”

“
Sire...” Beldin looked at the pile of maps for a moment. He cleared his throat before looking back to Rendin. “The others will think this a sure sign of the Relequim's fortress.”

“
It isn't?”

“
No, Sire. It's just... it's just Parnithons roving the territory.”

“
It's the first sign of life we've seen for leagues.” Rendin leaned back in his chair, causing Beldin to straighten his own stance before him. “It seems odd that it would mean so little.”

“
It doesn't mean all that little, I'm afraid. What it does mean is that our enemy lives, he's here somewhere, but where we cannot say with certainty.”

Rendin thought on it for a minute. He agreed with the young tribune, but perhaps he wanted to more than he truly did. “I will say this much, Sir Beldin. We are at a crossroads, one that I wish to escape as quickly as possible. As we must wait, I must hope that we can afford to do so and pray that my sister's scouts bring back a report of the location of our enemy. However, we cannot afford to wait long, and should they not return within another day, we will be forced to take your sighting as the only suggestion we have.”

“
But Sire.”

“
Fighting is breaking out among the troops regularly, Beldin. Tensions are high and I cannot assume that this is entirely of natural causes. Our enemy's influence is strong here, his divisiveness present and powerful. If we do not act soon, we may very well see the collapse of all order and discipline among our own men, at which point there will be no hope for us whether or not we are set upon by his forces.”

Beldin swallowed what he had to say. As much as they agreed on what they wished they could do, at least the tribune had the luxury of disagreeing with the decision that had to be made.

“
Would you do any differently in my place, Sir Beldin?”

Sir Beldin thought on it for a moment, weighing his response as he regarded his king. In the end he shook his head and looked to the ground. “No, your Majesty. I'm afraid I wouldn't.”

“
We will do our best to complete this task, Sir Beldin.” Rendin stood and promised, his heart breaking as he finished his thought. “We will do our very best to bring our men home... but should we need to sacrifice everything for this one cause, this one attempt at the lifeblood of our enemy, then so be it.”

“
Then so be it.” Beldin's face was sad as he lifted his eyes to agree with Rendin. “My life and sword are yours as always, Sire, to do with as you see fit.”

Suddenly Blassen appeared in the entrance of the tent, his stern, bland face showing the signs of concern. “Sire.” He stepped to the side. “A man bears a message I fear demands your attention.”

“
Let him enter.” Rendin leaned on the table, his strength already waning for the day, and it had only just begun.

“
Sire.” A young man wearing Bramblethorn's rose on his brooch entered and knelt. “The train is lost.”

Rendin stood straight at the announcement. “What?”

Beldin grabbed the young man and hauled him to his feet. “What do you mean the train is lost? Where is it?”

“
It's not lost like that, sir.” The young man had gone pale. “It tears itself apart as we speak.”

“
Why?” Beldin looked like he might bolt for the door to set things to rights in that moment. “What's happened?”

“
Sir Hembrody...” The boy looked like he might cry. “I was attached to him to watch Sir Hembrody. He set upon Sir Bramblethorn while they inspected the rear... he killed Sir Bramblethorn and set his men upon the train.”

“
That bastard.” Beldin's disbelief was only balanced by his anger. “I didn't think he'd really go so far!”

“
Did you see it?” Rendin pointed at the boy. “Did you see Hembrody kill Sir Bramblethorn?”

“
With my own eyes, sir, though I think Sir Bramblethorn may have dealt a deadly blow to Hembrody in turn.”

“
Woads!” A new voice came from outside, and after a hasty discussion another boy was permitted to enter. “Woads, Sire! The baggage train is under attack and faltering!”

T
HIRTY-
O
NE

R
ENDIN
R
ENAULT RODE AT THE HEAD OF HIS BODYGUARD, FORTY-NINE SOLDIERS IN SHIMMERING PLATE MAIL WITH GREEN CAPES AND TRIM
. They looked every bit like the fighting unit formed in ages past, and the young king hoped they could rise to their reputation today, for he was afraid they would be hard pressed to keep him alive.

Sir Beldin of the Shale rode close at hand, leading his outriders and some heavy cavalry. In total, eight hundred men made their way to the baggage train, and the call had gone out for more to follow. But there was no time to wait for them to form up, no time for more to mobilize. The threat of Woads in a baggage train would have been cause enough for action on its own, but was especially so when the men guarding that train were at each others' throats.

Smoke could be seen from here, though the train lay yet another three miles behind the bulk of the army. Rendin cursed as another plume began to rise, black billowing smoke rolling straight up into the windless sky.
How could this happen? Hembrody, how could you betray me like this?

The road his men were to leave unobstructed through the camp was far more cluttered than it should have been. Men rushed out to move carts and equipment from their path, but he made a mental note of the tribunes and commanders whose camps were not how he would have them. His jaw set as his anger rose.
Am I truly beset on all sides? Is there no one I can trust with even the simplest of tasks?

He had sent men off to watch the troops Hembrody had left with the bulk of the army in case they decided to join their comrades in the mutiny and wreak havoc in the main camp. He would have them all executed before he allowed his army to dissolve. He had no illusions about their chance of surviving this war with the Relequim, but he also knew they stood a chance to at least give their lives for something. If they faltered now and dissolved into the chaos their enemy sought to infect them with, then there would be nothing but meaningless death for them all.

The baggage train came into view as they continued toward it, Woads darting in and out of view as men screamed and died. Groups of soldiers had banded together, fighting the monsters with their backs against each other. Those groups seemed to fend well enough, especially the few with spears, but those caught on their own were not faring as well.

Rendin put his spurs to his horse, feeling his own fatigue chasing just at her heels. He needed to get there now, to restore order before everything was lost. His bodyguard formed up around him as they approached, unwilling to let him enter the field without a layer of protection in front. They dropped their wolf-mask visors into place as they lowered their lances. Those closest to Rendin at the center of the newly-formed square drew their swords, not bothering with the long wooden weapons of their outward-facing brothers.

The Woads sensed their approach, launching an all-out attack against the newcomers as Rendin's bodyguard entered the scene. Lances shattered as Woads gurgled and died. One of the men on the corner disappeared in a blur, his horse stumbling and nearly toppling to a halt. The guard pressed on, though two peeled back around and attacked the Woad before it could finish its task.

Sir Beldin's cavalry had spread out behind them, creating a long line three rows deep that would sweep the entire baggage train the entire way down. Rendin wouldn't fight if he could help it, though he had drawn his sword with his bodyguard. He was here to lead the charge, to infuse conviction in his men and give the cavalry something to chase. His winged helm stood out above the rest, and no soldier in view of him would dare let it fall into the hands of the enemy.

So let them fear its risk.
He plunged heedlessly forward. They needed to save their supplies or they could lose everything.

As the bodyguard wove along the train, keeping their momentum up as best as they could in the wrecked aftermath of the ambush, Rendin took a depressing account of the damage. There wasn't a single cart untouched, and the bodies of men and women lay strewn everywhere among the baggage. What was most disturbing to him was the fact that only half of them showed the wounds characteristic of a Woad's attack; the rest had been cut down very clearly by blades.
There is a madness unfolding.

They reached the end of the train and swung around wide, allowing the long line of horse behind them to complete their own sweep. Rendin called for his bodyguard to come to a halt, and pressed forward through them to take in the sight. The train was ruined. Carts lay upturned or broken with fires breaking out among them and broken bodies everywhere he looked. The Woads had not been great in number, the terror of their arrival only stirring the mutiny to madness.

Everything was lost. What little they could retrieve would be immobile, and without carts and work animals, their supply line was as good as cut. They had been undone.

“
Sire.” Sir Beldin rode up as his cavalry turned in place and headed back for another pass. “Sire, what would you have us do?”

“
Gather your men, Sir Beldin. What time we thought we had has now been lost to us.” Rendin motioned for his bodyguard to move forward. “Today we enter the Desert Mountains and finish what we came here to do.”

This was the last place that Rendin would have wished to have been forced: his options removed and nothing standing behind him for support. His sister was out ranging, his own scouts entering unknown territory, and his troops marched into confined space towards an undetermined destination. This campaign had begun with little chance of success, and now it would be carried out with little hope of even a meaningful failure.

He couldn't let his men remain stagnant, not after what he had seen at the baggage train. Their fears and idleness were being exploited, used to turn the focus of their aggression inwards. Keeping idle soldiers in line was difficult enough, but now that word had spread that their supply line was cut, he needed to hand them a definitive victory before he even thought about pulling them out.

Leaving now was tantamount to suicide, as an unmolested army was certain to remain with the Relequim and would certainly harry them from the rear should they be left undefeated. Retreating with few supplies over hostile terrain with an enemy close behind would leave him lucky to successfully recall a quarter of his present army. He couldn't withdraw now if he wanted to.