Erlaan wished he had someone with which to discuss his thoughts, but his priestly companions were nowhere to be seen, and the shamans were incapable of providing any useful insight with such a conversation. The decision remained Erlaan's alone, without advice or encouragement.
His instinct was to attack and have the matter settled, but he knew that good commanders did not act on instinct alone. Harrakil thought that he faced the Mekhani of the past; barbaric and impetuous. His plan would be based upon that assumption. Thinking further along this line, tugging at his thoughts like a stray thread, Erlaan considered the consequences of what might happen. The Askhans knew the Mekhani would attack, and that was what they wanted to happen, for whatever reason. It followed, Erlaan concluded, that if he was simply to withdraw, Harrakil would be left with the difficult choice of coming down onto the grasslands, revealing his true strength in the process, or simply letting the Mekhani move away to wreak whatever havoc they intended.
'We will withdraw!' Erlaan announced.
This proclamation was greeted with some consternation by his subordinates. The nearby shamans muttered briefly to each other until one was nominated as spokesman. He knelt before Erlaan, eyes fixed on the ground.
'Forgive us for doubting your wisdom, which is brought to you upon the winds from the sky, mighty Orlassai,' the shaman began. 'We seek only to understand your impeccable will. The enemy are few and we are many, and you alone could destroy these fools. Why do we not attack? Is it now your intent that they escape, to take word to their king of the great and terrible foe that they face?'
As he considered his next words, Erlaan looked at the Askhan legion intently, unsure whether he was making an error. It had been Asirkhyr's intent to keep their presence as secret as long as possible. Such a factor seemed less important now when judged against the losses that a battle would inflict, before the campaign proper had begun. A few days mattered little measured over a season of war.
'They are beneath us,' declared Erlaan. 'When we wet our spears, it will be with the blood of men, not dogs. If they are truly worthy of facing me, they will come after us, and we shall oblige them with the deaths they desire.'
This seemed to satisfy the shamans, who nodded and smiled in reply.
'Pass on my will to my brave warriors,' Erlaan told them with a wave of his hand. 'The towns and people of Ersua should not be made to wait too long for our cruel attention.'
As soon as the shamans had departed, they were gone from Erlaan's mind. He drew his sword and pointed it towards the icon of Askhos as the centre of the Seventeenth's line. Drawing in a deep breath, he roared his next words, the runes on his tongue and lips sending them clear and loud up to the legionnaires on the hill.
'Know that I am Orlassai, the reborn king of Mekha! Run like dogs to your cowardly master. Tell your king that his time is short. I desire his Crown and I shall take it. If he kneels before me and presents the Crown to me I shall be merciful and spare his people!'
While the Mekhani turned away and headed coldwards, there was movement in the Askhan ranks. Two companies parted and a figure rode forward on the back of an ailur. Even with his enhanced eyes, Erlaan could not make out the noble's features, but the glint of gold when the man raised his spear was an unmistakeable declaration. A shout carried on the wind, picked up only by the king-messiah's ears; words that amused and concerned Erlaan in equal measure, for the man who uttered them could not have known that they would be heard.
'You want my Crown? Come and take it, you goat-fucker!'
As the cry drifted away on the wind, the hills were alive with movement. More golden icons appeared, and the flapping standards of many companies. Rank after rank of spearmen marched up the crests of the hills, until the Askhan line was nearly a mile wide.
Four whole legions stared down at the departing Mekhani army.
Pleased that he had not fallen into the trap, Erlaan smiled. The priests had been wrong about Ullsaard. He was here, and he had a force almost the equal of Erlaan's. Almost equal, but not quite. In the past, four legions would be a match for fifty thousand Mekhani, but not now. With the advantage of the hills, he was safe, but on the level ground of Okhar the advantage was with the numbers. If the Askhan king wanted to come down and start a fight, Erlaan was happy to let him.
But he knew it would not be that simple. Ullsaard had already caught up a step, even if he could not yet match Erlaan. Given the chance, he would strike when the right opportunity presented itself; but that was not now.
'We will finish this another time!' Erlaan cried out.
With that, he sheathed his sword, turned his back on the Askhans and walked away.
II
The departing Mekhani army was soon obscured by the cloud of dust left in its wake. Ullsaard watched them for some time, ignoring the presence of Harrakil to his right. Finally the First Captain broke the silence.
'Are we going to let them get away?' Harrakil asked, his tone conveying his disapproval of this course of action.
Ullsaard turned slowly in the saddle and fixed the legion commander with his stare.
'Do you want to fight them?' said the king. 'You can count as well as I can.'
'Had we struck earlier, while they were still crossing the Nakuus, their advantage of numbers would have been less. Fifty thousand Mekhani are no match for four legions.'
'You saw how organised they were,' said Ullsaard. 'These are not the Mekhani we have fought in the past. That creature, the one that called itself Orlassai, has changed the way they fight. They had war machines and armour. When I was last here, every legionnaire was worth five Mekhani. That isn't true with this lot. Why risk a battle when we can let them do as much harm to themselves?'
'I don't follow your meaning,' said Harrakil.
Before Ullsaard could answer, several officers arrived to request orders from their commander, including messengers from the other First Captains. The king told them to wait and continued to voice his theory to Harrakil.
'This reborn king, whatever or whoever he is, knows how to forge an army, but he is ignorant in strategy. It's clear he intends to march on Ersua, which is a mistake.'
'How so?' said Harrakil, concerned at the prospect. 'From Ersua, they can attack at the heart of the empire.'
'Possibly, but our opponent's thinking has been clouded by his time in the desert,' replied Ullsaard. 'Though the sun shines here and the weather is not so foul, remember that it is still winter. Once the Mekhani reach the Ersuan Hills, they'll find the climate not so much to their liking. The winter stores of the towns will be at their lowest. I'd like to see how he plans to feed an army of that size in the late snows.'
'You would just let them run loose over Ersua?'
Ullsaard shrugged.
'Better one province is ravaged than we lose the whole empire,' said the king. 'We're still unprepared for a straight battle. There are half a dozen ways for them to head coldwards, so even if we could force march ahead of them, where would we set our next line of defence? We're no more secure trying to protect Ersua than Okhar. Give them time to lose a few thousand warriors to winter supply and then we'll see what sort of shape they're in for a fight.'
'So what are we going to do now?' Ullsaard did not like Harrakil's accusatory tone, but chose to overlook it for the moment. Clearly the First Captain was disappointed at marching several hundred miles only to see his enemy allowed to walk away.
'We came here to kill some Mekhani, so that's what we're going to do,' the king explained patiently. He signalled for the heralds to attend him. 'Send word to the governors. They are to mobilise what legions they have to guard their borders with Ersua. We'll let the Mekhani have free rein for the moment, but I want the passes and crossings into Okhar, Nalanor and Anrair guarded. Also, I will have orders to convey to the army camp in Salphoria. I want a couple of legions to move closer to Ersua, just in case the Mekhani want to make trouble to dawnwards.'
