‘They took it too cursed seriously,’ Mordrec told him. ‘We dumped a load of bows and spears and swords on them, and they had the wit to ask us how they were supposed to put them to use. We ended up staying there half a tenday more than we’d hoped, just drilling them in the basics. You should see Siriell’s Town now: everyone and their grandmother’s going about armed. You got the weapons we sent ahead?’
‘I did.’
The two of them turned, as Soul Je and Barad Ygor rode up, too, and dismounted.
‘Have you told him?’ the Scorpion demanded. His companion clung to his back, her claws crossed beneath his collarbones, and her stinging tail curled about his waist.
‘I was getting to it,’ Mordrec snapped back. ‘Dala, we’ve seen the Salmae on the move between here and the Rhael border.’
‘I know,’ Dal agreed. ‘The game’s changed, and we’re pulling back. What have you got available in Rhael now?’
‘There’s close on five hundred just over the border, waiting for the word. If we don’t use them soon, they’ll go sour on us and either head back south or start fighting with each other,’ Mordrec declared.
‘We had them just where we wanted them until a few days ago, but then they got wise to us,’ Dal explained. ‘We were running them all over the place, keeping them guessing, and they were going for us every chance they got. We could lead them any way we chose. Then they went on the defensive all of a sudden, and wherever we decided to raid we’d find at least a handful of them on watch for us, with fliers ready to spread the word. We still scored a few hits, but our luck’s turned. Time to regroup and take stock, I think.’
‘If they’re on the defensive, shouldn’t we take advantage of it?’ Ygor suggested slowly. ‘I mean, if they’re backing off, and we’re also backing off, where will the fight be?’
Dal Arche shook his head. ‘The way I read it, they want us to chase them, so instead we’re going to creep quietly back to Rhael Province and join up with your force there, and wait for reinforcements from Siriell’s Town. After that, we’ll have enough numbers to come back and up the stakes a little.’
‘How many are you here?’ came the dry voice of Soul Je.
‘Right now? About three hundred and fifty. I’ve a raiding party out at the moment of somewhere near seventy-five. We’re moving as soon as they get back. What size parties did you see on the way here?’
Mordrec opened his mouth, but it was Soul who spoke. ‘Move now.’
‘What do you mean?’ Dal demanded.
‘Head south now,’ the Grasshopper insisted. ‘This is wrong, I don’t like it.’ It was a lot for him to say.
The four brigands exchanged glances, because Soul seldom wasted words, and his intuition had been right before, when they had ignored him to their lasting regret.
‘You may be right,’ Dal said slowly. ‘I’ll get a messenger off to the raiding party, and we’ll pull back. Can’t be too careful.’
Almost as he said it, a young Grasshopper-kinden dropped down beside them. ‘Enemies coming,’ he panted. ‘Couple nobles, maybe forty levy.’
‘Fight?’ Mordrec asked.
‘Too few of them,’ Dal stated, eyes narrow. ‘Been a while since they were parading about in groups that small. Any word of the raiding party?’
The young Grasshopper shook his head.
‘Move out,’ Soul Je urged.
After a moment’s grimacing pause, Dal nodded. ‘We’ve outstayed our welcome,’ he decided. ‘Let’s get back across the border and regroup. I don’t like the feel of this.’
Within moments, he and his lieutenants were kicking their way through the camp, getting everyone moving. Brigands and their hangers-on took what loot they could carry and readied their weapons. Dal had conditioned them to a rudimentary order: those with bows spread left and right, whilst spears, swords and miscellaneous blunt implements formed the central block. At the vanguard rode their cavalry, consisting of Dal and his fellows and half a dozen others who possessed stolen mounts and the ability to ride them.
‘You’re thinking that raiding party won’t be coming back?’ Ygor pressed as they got under way.
Dal shrugged. ‘I reckon all that quiet we’ve been hearing was the Salmae finally getting their act together and moving into position.’
They broke from the trees not in military order, but not a mob either, heading south at a good pace. There was another stretch of woodland ahead, and once there they could travel under cover of the canopy almost all the way to Rhael.
‘Double pace,’ shouted Dal abruptly, kicking at his own mount. There was a baffled grumbling from the men and women around him. ‘Run, you bastards!’ he berated them. ‘Head into the trees.’
Most of them obeyed, in the end. He had done just enough to turn them from a gang of thieves into an army, whether he had originally wanted to or not. As his horse lurched into a canter, he swung it to the right, bringing it around and along the flank of his suddenly piecemeal force, and watching the complaining, stumbling brigands as they picked up speed.
‘Archers, fall towards the rear,’ he shouted. ‘Be ready to let them have it when they come.’ He guided his steed all the way around the back, galloping along the left flank and repeating his orders to the bowmen there. About half of them would have the wit or the courage to obey, he reckoned. The others, once running, would just rush full-tilt until they had the trees around them.
‘They can’t be on us already?’ Mordrec complained, as Dal rejoined the other riders at the front. Even as he said it, though, Soul was pointing. Along the treeline ahead of them could be seen the glitter of sun on armour, and then they saw the enemy cavalry. So far, in the skirmishing, they had faced individual nobles on their mounts, and each noble had brought his own levy of peasants travelling on foot and slowing him down. There had not seemed enough of the aristocracy to mount the cavalry charges that traditional Commonweal war had centred on. Now here they were, surely the majority of the nobles under Salmae command, and they were racing to catch the brigands in the open. There were perhaps forty of them in all, noblemen and noblewomen with their favoured mounted retainers, but Dal knew the bandits could not stand up before a cavalry charge. They would break and then be ridden down, however many of them there were.
If the brigands had been moving at their usual slower pace before then they would have been caught right under the hammer. Even running as they were, it would be touch and go, but they had bought themselves a chance to get under cover now, and safe from the worst of the charge.
Dal Arche’s wings took over, parting him from his saddle as he coasted over his fleeing people. He had his bow in hand, an arrow fitted to the string.
‘Archers!’ he bellowed at them. ‘Hold till my mark!’
As he had expected, at least half of his bowmen were running headlong for the safety of the trees now, but a number had stopped to form a ragged line, and now Soul Je leapt down to join them, drawing back the string on his man-high bow.
The approaching cavalry exerted a fearful fascination, and Dal nearly missed his chance. ‘Loose!’ he shouted suddenly. ‘Loose, cut and run!’
He watched as the arrows rose high, before curving in midair and falling upon the riders like rain. Soul’s shaft caught one man near the point of the enemy formation, cutting between his helm and breastplate and sending the luckless target lurching back across his saddle. None of the other shots found a human target, but they struck home amongst the horses, causing them to jerk sideways, rearing and plunging. The gleaming perfection of the charge faltered just enough, and then the archers were following their fellows into the trees, on foot or wing, and Dal followed after. He realized that he had not actually loosed his own arrow at all.
Did I ever really want to become a leader of men? he asked himself. Surely the answer was no.
This long arm of the forest – this brigand’s road – would take them to within striking distance of the Rhael border, but he doubted that a few trees would keep the Salmae off his back from now on. They were obviously pushing for the endgame, and Dal found that he had overextended his people, driven them too far from home, too close to Rhael. But we were doing so well! Then he remembered the war, and the way that every victory against the Wasps, however striking, had seemed to be the prelude to an ever-greater defeat. Just my luck that I find a Commonweal noble who actually learned something from all those cursed battles.
He drove his followers hard, keeping them moving and keeping them organized. He had scouts on either flank, and Soul Je leading a band of the fleetest in the vanguard, whilst Mordrec and Ygor marshalled the main
