The Tharyngians had celebrated enthusiastically, firing off cannons. Chemicals added to the brimstone produced bright red and green flames. Ryngian mortars launched fused charges that exploded in the air, providing dazzling displays of light. Ever courteous, the Ryngians aimed the mortars over the lake, so no errant charge could explode among the besieging army.
The Mystrians had worked day and night digging trenches and moving their cannon forward. They'd gotten to within eight hundred yards of the fort. They controlled the battlefield, but the glacises prevented them from hitting the walls. That would require them to be two hundred yards closer. Vlad imagined that du Malphias would use his cannon to discourage those efforts.
Owen found the Prince first. 'Yes, Highness?'
'What do you know of Rivendell's doings?'
The younger man shook his head. 'Not much. The diners started working yesterday after their hangovers eased. Everyone else was kept away. What has he done?'
'He's undone us all, I am sure.' The Prince nodded as the Kessian joined them. 'Come, gentlemen. Lord Rivendell requires a visit.'
Von Metternin's eyes tightened. 'Rivendell has taken du Malphias' bait?'
'I believe so.' Vlad had been afraid of trickery ever since the invitation had been extended. Rivendell's contempt for du Malphias would blind him to whatever the Laureate sought to hide.
The Norillian commander assumed du Malphias was every bit the gentleman he was. Since Rivendell would never stoop to trickery, he assumed that du Malphias would likewise eschew deception. Rivendell and his subordinates would accept the Laureate's word that things were as they appeared to be. They would note things of interest within the fort, and think themselves far cleverer than their host for having gotten inside to take a look.
They just would never imagine that what they saw was exactly what du Malphias wanted them to see.
As they marched, Vlad glanced toward the fortress. In no time shot and shell would shred the green, grassy expanse between camps. It would destroy the men fighting their way across it. Though Prince Vlad had never witnessed warfare on this scale before, he'd read enough and talked to enough men, that he had no trouble imagining the bleeding ruin Rivendell's foolishness would foster.
'I cannot let Rivendell's folly kill men.' Vlad stared at the soldier blocking the entrance to the tent. 'Stand aside, soldier.'
Stone-faced and silent, the man remained rigidly in place.
Owen slipped past him and slashed through the tent's wall with his Altashee obsidian knife. 'This way, Highness.'
Owen stepped aside as Vlad passed through the slit. He had never seen that level of resolution on the Prince's face before. Count von Metternin followed him, then Owen squeezed through. The tent had been divided into three parts, with the largest-Rivendell's headquarters-taking up nearly two-thirds. The smaller two areas were centered one around a bunk and the other a small dining table.
Langford abandoned the map table around which Rivendell and three other colonels had gathered, moving to intercept the Prince. 'You should not be here, Highness.'
Vlad stopped him with a glare. 'Your saying that is precisely why I must be.'
Rivendell's head came up. 'Leave us, Highness. You, too, von Metternin. Colonel Langford, place Captain Strake under arrest.'
'What deviltry are you up to, Johnny?'
'This is a military matter, Highness. I command you to leave.'
The Prince hammered a fist on the table. Colonel Thornbury jumped back, giving Owen a glance at the map. Rivendell and his colonels had altered Owen's original survey map significantly. They'd placed a small sheet of paper over the central stone roundhouse and had drawn flowers and a tree upon it. The gun emplacements remained correctly positioned, but instead of four cannon at each, they'd only placed two. Beside the barracks buildings they'd made notes indicating that only battalions of the Platine Regiment were on station. Other notes indicated that a hundred civilians functioned as laborers.
'What is this travesty?'
Rivendell's nostrils flared. 'It is the proper map of La Fortresse du Morte. We were given a complete tour. It is woefully understaffed and vulnerable. We will press our attack today and destroy du Malphias.'
Vlad stared, his mouth open. 'What did he do to you in there?'
'He offered brilliant conversation on military strategy. He fully understood that for a defender to be successful, he must have at least a third of the attacking force's numbers under arms. He remained confident that he would be able to hold us off, but he lacked the resources necessary to do so.'
The Kessian studied the map. 'You show two cannon at each battery.'
'That is how many there are, sir, no more.'
'But you show a pair at each battery, including the lake wall. Cannot du Malphias just transfer those cannon to the north wall?'
'He does not have enough personnel to operate them. Six batteries of four, with four men each to serve them. This places one of his battalions at the guns, leaving only two more to man the walls-and he has a great deal of wall to cover.'
The Kessian frowned. 'He will strip men from other walls to defend.'
Rivendell shook his head. 'We keep Thornbury's cavalry in reserve as a threat to strike at a weak point.'
The Prince leaned forward and tapped the troop estimate notes. 'You did not account for the Ungarakii he has under arms.'
'There are no Twilight People in there.'
'Yes, there are.' Vlad pointed off toward the lake. 'I have had men watching the water. We counted nearly two hundred warriors coming in. I sent you reports.'
'Langford, did I get any such reports?'
'Yes, sir. You deemed them unreliable and insignificant.'
Rivendell smiled. 'Satisfied?'
'What about the pasmortes. You know they can't be killed.'
Thornbury stepped back to the table. 'The civilians were women and children, with a few old men. They are non-combatants.'
Owen couldn't contain himself. 'Those civilians attacked your cavalry!'
'The wurm devoured the bodies, so we don't know what they were.'
Vlad rubbed a hand over his forehead. 'Why have you eliminated the central stronghold?'
'It has trees and flowers on it. It is nothing.'
The Prince tapped another part of the map, where the opening to the underground chambers should have been. 'And this building here?'
'Storage.' Rivendell preened. 'I demanded to see within. And I did find a chamber dug into the hillside. It was the Laureate's wine cellar. From there I shall choose the vintage with which to toast our victory.'
The Prince stared at him. 'And your grand plan is to walk our men up and storm the walls?'
'Precisely. We have more than three times his numbers.'
Count von Metternin rested a hand on the Prince's shoulder. 'My Lord Rivendell, the three-to-one ratio is accepted minimum needed to defeating a foe, but it does not guarantee victory.'
'But, my lord Count, we are speaking of Norillian troops.'
Vlad again hammered a fist against the table. 'No, you fool, you are speaking about men! Men who are going to be ripped to bits as they march forward. Grapeshot will rake any siege ladders you create, and blow apart your trench bridging.'
Rivendell laughed. 'This is precisely why command of this operation was given to a military man, Prince Vladimir. Anthony, tell him what you saw.'
Colonel Exeter replied with a smug half-smile. 'While I was examining one of the batteries, I measured both the carriage height and the height of the embrasures. I did the basic geometry. It is impossible for the guns to depress far enough to shoot anything atop the glacises.'
'My God, man, do you think he doesn't know that?' Vlad thrust a finger toward the fortress. 'Do you think he has no axes to cut the embrasures down?'
