«You think they’ll come at us again, Captain?»
« Maybe. Could they, if they wanted to, do you think? How would they come?»
Whyl thought about it. «Other than through the draw they just retreated down, they have only one other good choice. There’s another cut through the hills to the west. It’s wide and flat and open. But it will take them two or three days to reach it and get through, then come up to where we are.»
« To the west,” Pied repeated, thinking. «Nothing east?»
The Elf shrugged. «One trail, through scrub, forests, low country. Pretty dangerous. Lots of bogs and sinkholes. Cuts pretty close at its south end to where the Dwarves and Bordermen hold the east plateau. It would be risky for them to try it.»
For them, but maybe not jor us,Pied thought. The beginnings of a plan were taking shape. He nodded to Whyl. «Your help is appreciated. You may go back to your unit. But keep what we’ve said to yourself for now. Don’t speak of it to anyone.»
The Elven Hunter nodded and hurried off across the grass with several anxious glances back. In spite of his promise, he would tell his friends what had been said. In particular, he would tell them that their commander was anticipating another attack, one that might not turn out as well for the Elves as this one had. Word would spread quickly. Panic, if not squelched, would as well.
Pied turned back to Ti Auberen and Erris Crewer. «Form up the wounded—everyone who can’t fight another battle right away. Detail enough men to carry those who can’t walk. Ilse as few as you can manage, but enough so that they can travel afoot for several days. I want them to make for the Rappahalladran, then for the villages in the Duln. They will find wagons there to complete the rest of the journey home. With luck, they will come across an airship to transport them. Form up everyone else and prepare to march. We’ll move east toward that pass Whyl mentioned, the tougher one that leads to the defensive position of our allies. Our best choice now is to try to link up with Vaden Wick before the enemy finds us again. There’s some cover along the way. It may help shield us from Federation airships.»
« Captain, if they send airships after us, whether it’s the one with that weapon or not, we won’t be able to hide this many men,” Erris Crewer pointed out quietly.
Pied met his gaze. «Get on with it, Lieutenant. I want all burials completed and the wounded dispatched north within the hour. I want the rest of us heading east. Wait, not all of us. Detail two dozen men to stay behind to watch the pass in case the Federation decides to send scouts through to see if we’re still here. We don’t want them to find out too quickly that we’ve gone. All we need is a presence to keep them guessing. The men can use the time to create false trails. 1 want them to hold the pass for one day, then catch up to us. Put a Tracker or two in the mix. And bring up Whyl again, as well. We’ll need what he knows about the country.»
When they were gone, he walked over to Drumundoon. His aide shifted his lanky body from foot to foot. He looked dusty and tired, but he smiled at Pied anyway. «Not much help for some things, is there, Captain?»
« Drum, I need you to do something,” Pied replied, taking the other’s arm and steering him away from everyone else. «Word has to be sent to Arborlon of what’s happened. Maybe it’s already been done, but we can’t know. The Elven High Council has to be told that the King and his sons are dead. More to the point, they have to be told to send reinforcements. More airships, more men to fly them. We don’t stand a chance without their support. I want you to do this. Travel on foot until you can find horses. Then ride until you can find an airship. Take two of the Home Guard with you, just in case. Leave at once.»
Drumundoon looked at him. «Arling will be Queen now,” he said. «It will be her decision.»
He was saying that she might not be favorably disposed toward Pied’s suggestion, no matter what the High Council said. Nor toward Pied, for that matter, once she learned that he had failed to keep her sons safe. But there was nothing Pied could do about it without speaking to her. He had to hope she would allow him the opportunity, that something of what he believed she had once felt for him would persuade her to do what was right.
« Do the best you can, Drum,” he said quietly. He placed his hand on the other’s shoulder. «But do it quickly.»
« I don’t like leaving you, Captain,” his aide replied, shaking his head slowly, looking down at his feet.
« I don’t like having you leave me. But we don’t always get to choose in these matters. I have to send someone I can depend upon to do this. There isn’t anyone I depend on more than you.»
He thought he saw Drumundoon actually blush, but it was hard to tell beneath the layers of dirt and sweat. Drum rubbed his fringe of black beard and nodded. «I’ll do my best.»
He was, as usual, as good as his word. By the time the wounded were loaded on litters and their bearers and caregivers ready to depart, Drum was already gone. Pied found himself wishing he could have given his friend something more than encouragement, but at least he was sending him out of the fighting. Drum was a good man, but he wasn’t meant to stand in the front lines on a battlefield.
Maybe I’m not meant jor this, either,Pied thought.But here I am.
He slung his longbow across his shoulders, cinched his quiver a notch tighter, and went off to meet his fate.
Seven
Darkness had settled across the cities of the Southland, but it was nothing compared to the darkness that had found a home in Shadea a’Ru’s heart. She stood at a floor–to–ceiling window in a reception room deep inside Sen Dunsidan’s compound, staring out at the lights of Arishaig. She had not moved from that spot, had barely changed her position, in more than an hour. She had gone deep inside herself, escaping the disagreeableness of the present, a Druid trick she had taught herself early on in her time at Paranor, when she had no friends and no future. It had served her well then, it was less effective now.
Behind her, the Captain of her Gnome Hunters stood with two of his men and watched her uneasily. He could feel the heat radiate from her. He felt her anger as she quietly seethed. He did not want to be present when she reached the boiling point, but there was nowhere else for him to go.
It had been a long day in more ways than one. They had arrived aboard theBremen the previous night, only to be told that Sen Dunsidan had not yet returned from the Prekkendorran, where he was personally overseeing the destruction of the Elves. Shadea had been willing to forgive his failure to adhere to their schedule, the defeat of the Elves was a major blow to the Free–born hopes, and the Prime Minister would want to make certain things did not go awry. She had heard of the defeat of the Elven fleet, of the burning of their airships, and of the deaths of Kellen Elessedil and his young sons. She had heard of the subsequent rout of the Elven army and its frantic retreat into the hills north. Sen Dunsidan had accomplished something important, and he had done it without her help. She would grant him his victory, even though it rankled her that he had deliberately gone behind her back to achieve it. She had gone to bed in the quarters provided for her with the expectation that their meeting would take place promptly the next day.
She had been wrong. A day of touring the ministries, of speaking before the Coalition Council, and of deliberate delays had left her convinced that something she knew nothing about was happening. She could feel it in the attitude of the Ministers with whom she met—men and women who were civil and indulgent, but clearly disdainful of her, as well. They extended courtesies because they would do so even to their worst enemy on such a visit, but there was no warmth or sincerity in the efforts.
By nightfall, she had lost her patience with Sen Dunsidan entirely. She had been advised of his return several hours earlier, but then he had asked that she wait while he freshened himself for their meeting. She had kept her composure mostly by telling herself that it would only weaken her position with him to reveal the depths of her irritation. If he thought he could undo her so easily, he would be much more difficult to manage. And she already knew from the news of his victory on the Prekkendorran and the nature of her reception here that he would be difficult in any case.
A knock sounded on the door to the reception room and a functionary cautiously stepped just inside the opening. Shadea came out of her shell instantly, but let him stand where he was for a moment, her eyes directed out the window toward the city. Then, drawing herself up, she turned to face him.
« My lady,” he said, bowing to her. «The Prime Minister apologizes for the delay and begs your indulgence for just a few minutes more. He is almost ready to receive you and asks that you wait—”
