buzzing clouds. Rathar’s horse flicked its tail this way and that; the marshal swatted and fumed.
Turning to the soldier guiding him to General Ortwin, he demanded, “Where are our own dragons? We need to pay the enemy in his own coin.”
“We didn’t have as many to start with as the cursed redheads did,” the man answered. “The ones we did have are mostly dead by now.”
Closer to the line of battle, egg-tossers concealed from the air with nets hurled destruction back at King Mezentio’s men. Rathar grunted in some satisfaction when he saw that. “The Algarvians aren’t having it all their own way then,” he said.
“Oh, no, my lord Marshal,” his escort replied. “They pay a price for every mile they move forward.”
“They’ve already moved too many miles forward,” Rathar said, “and the price they’ve paid hasn’t been nearly high enough.” The soldier riding with him grimaced and then, with obvious reluctance, nodded.
After what seemed far too long, the marshal reached the tent from which
General Ortwin was conducting his defense. Ortwin, who was very bald on top
but, as if to compensate, had tufts of white hair sprouting from his ears and nos-
‘ trils, shouted into a crystal: “Bring that regiment forward, curse you! If we don’t hold the line of the river, we’ll have to fall back past Wirdum, and King Swemmel will pitch a fit.” He glanced up and saw Rathar. In a voice full of defiance, he said, “If you want to haul me away for lese majesty, my lord Marshal, here’s your chance.”
“I want to halt the Algarvians,” Rathar said. “That’s the only thing I want, and I’m not fussy about how I do it.”
Ortwin snorted, which made his nose hairs quiver like grass in the breeze. “Why aren’t you shorter by a head?” he asked with what sounded like genuine curiosity. “Everybody thought you were going to be, this past fall.”
Rathar shrugged. “His Majesty believes I do not want to be king, I think. Powers above know it’s a true belief. But I came here to escape the court, not to gossip of it.” He strode forward. “Show me how you are doing.”
“None too bloody well,” Ortwin answered, which would have served as commentary for the entire Unkerlanter fight against Algarve. “When you set out, we still had a decent force on the east side of the Klagen. This morning, though, the cursed Algarvians threw us back over the river, and powers below eat me if I see how we’re going to keep them from crossing.” He pointed to the map to show what he meant.
“Why didn’t you reinforce your men on the east side?” Rathar asked.
“My lord Marshal, what do you think I tried to do?” Ortwin retorted. “I haven’t got a fancy hat with a feather in it like an Algarvian general, but I’m not stupid--not too stupid, anyhow. I tried. I couldn’t. Their dragons kept dropping eggs on the fords of the Klagen, and their behemoths thundered right through the line our men put up.”
“Where were our behemoths for a counterattack?” Rather inquired.
“Spread too thin to do much,” Ortwin told him. “They bunched theirs, and they broke through with them.”
Rather exhaled angrily. “Shouldn’t that have given you a hint, General? We’re going to have to learn to fight like the Algarvians if we intend to throw them back.”
Ortwin said, “My lord Marshal, I didn’t have enough of the beasts to make any great counterattack with them anyhow.” He held up a hand whose back was gnarled with veins like old tree roots. “And before you ask why I didn’t get some from the north or the south, the redheads are driving back our armies there, too, and no general has enough for himself, let alone to spare any for his neighbors.”
“That is not good,” Rathar said, an understatement if ever there was one. “We must be able to concentrate our behemoths, as the Algarvians are doing, or else they will go right on smashing through us.”
“You are the marshal of Unkerlant,” Ortwin said. “If anyone can make it so, you are the man.” He cocked his head to one side. “Listen to the way the eggs are falling. Sure as sure, Mezentio’s men are trying to get over the Klagen.” Rathar cocked his head to one side, too. Ortwin was right. Most of the bursts came from the southeast, where the Unkerlanters were fighting to hold the line of the river. One of the crystallomancers turned and spoke urgently to the general.
“I came here to see the fighting,” Rathar
