“ I thought there would be more,” Caenis said. “The Emperor’s army is supposed to be beyond counting.”
“ Indeed there are more, brother,” Banders assured him. “This is just the vanguard. The few prisoners we took in Marbellis were happy to confirm it. The force marching on this city is the elite of the Alpiran army. The finest infantry and cavalry he can muster, all veterans of the border wars with the Volarians. Don’t underestimate the savages either, all warriors born. It’s said they spend their lives worshipping the emperor like a god and fighting each other over petty insults, which they’re happy to put aside when he calls them to war. Seems they like the taste of defeated enemies.”
“ Siege engines?” Vaelin asked.
Banders nodded. “Ten of them, much taller and heftier than anything we have, can sling a boulder the size of musk-ox over three hundred paces.”
Vaelin glanced around the table gauging the reaction of the other captains to the baron’s words. Count Marven was rigidly controlled, seemingly wary of betraying any emotion which might undermine his jealously guarded status. Lord Marshal Al Cordlin had paled visibly and kept clutching his recently healed arm, a faint sheen of sweat beginning to show on his upper lip. Lord Marshal Al Trendil seemed lost in thought, stroking his chin, eyes distant. Vaelin assumed he was calculating if he could escape with all the spoils he had looted at Untesh. Only Bren Antesh seemed unaffected, arms folded and regarding Banders with only a mild interest.
“ How long do we have?” Caenis asked the baron.
“ Brother Sollis put them here.” Banders tapped a finger to the map spread out on the table before them, picking out a point about twenty miles south-west of Marbellis. “That was twelve days ago.”
“ An army that size couldn’t cover more than fifteen miles a day,” Count Marven mused in a deliberately measured tone. “Less in the desert.”
“ Gives us maybe another two weeks,” Lord Marshal Al Cordlin said, his voice was pitched slightly high and he coughed before continuing. “Ample time, my lord.”
Vaelin frowned at him. “Ample time for what?”
“ Why, evacuation of course.” Al Cordlin’s eyes cast around the table, seeking support. “I know there aren’t sufficient ships remaining to carry the whole of the army, but the senior officers could be got away easily. The men can march to Untesh…”
“ We are ordered to hold this city,” Vaelin told him.
“ Against twenty thousand?” Al Cordlin gave a short and somewhat hysterical laugh. “More than three times our number, and elite troops at that. It would be madness to…”
“ Lord Marshal Al Cordlin I hereby relieve you of your command.” Vaelin nodded at the door. “Leave this room. In the morning you will be escorted to the harbour where you will take ship for the Realm. Until then keep to your quarters, I don’t want the men infected with your cowardice.”
Al Cordlin rocked back on his heels as if struck, beginning to babble. “This is… Such insults are unwarranted. My regiment was given to me by the king…”
“ Just get out.”
The stricken lord cast one more final glance at the rest of the captains, finding either indifference or wary discomfort, before moving to the door and making his exit. “Any more suggestions of evacuation will receive the same response,” Vaelin told the council. “I trust that’s understood.”
He turned his attention back to the map, ignoring the chorus of affirmation. Once again he was struck by the barrenness of the region, marvelling that three large cities such as Untesh, Linesh and Marbellis could exist on the fringes of such trackless desert. All dust and scrub, as Frentis had said. Haven’t seen a tree since we landed… “No trees.”
“ My lord?” Baron Banders asked.
Vaelin gave no reply and kept his attention on the map as something stirred, the seed of a stratagem nurtured by a faint murmur from the blood-song, building to a chorus as his eyes picked out a pictogram about thirty miles south of the city; a copse of palm trees surrounding a small pool. “What’s this?” he asked Caenis.
“ The Lehlun Oasis, brother. The only sizeable source of water on the southern caravan route.”
“ Meaning,” Count Marven said, “the Alpiran army will have to stop there on the way north.”
“ You mean to poison the water, my lord?” Lord Marshal Al Trendil asked. “An excellent notion. We could spoil it with animal carcasses…”
“ I don’t mean to do any such thing,” Vaelin replied, continuing to let the blood-song feed his design. The risks are great, and the cost…
“ We should seal the city, my lord,” Count Marven said, breaking the silence which Vaelin realised had lasted several minutes. “The southbound caravans will surely pass word of our numbers to the enemy.”
“ People have been leaving by the dozen since the threat of the Red Hand faded,” Vaelin said. “I’d be greatly surprised if the Alpiran commander doesn’t already possess a full picture of our numbers and our preparations. Besides, letting him think us weak could work to our advantage. An overconfident enemy is prone to carelessness.”
He gave the map a final glance and moved back from the table. “Baron Banders, I apologise for asking you to take to the saddle again so soon after your arrival, but I require you and your knights on the morrow.” He turned to Caenis. “Brother, have the scout troop assemble at dawn, I will take command personally. In my absence the city is yours. Make every effort to deepen the ditch around the walls and double its width.”
“ You intend to ambush an army of twenty thousand with a few hundred men?” Count Marven was incredulous. “What can you hope to achieve?”
Vaelin was already moving to the door. “An axe without a blade is just a stick.”
Further inland the northern desert sands rose into tall dunes, stretching to the horizon like a storm swept sea frozen in gold under a cloudless sky. The sun was too intense to permit marching during the day and they were obliged to travel by night, sheltering under tents in daylight whilst the knights grumbled and their war-horses nickered and stamped hooves in irritation at the unaccustomed heat.
“ Noisy buggers, this lot,” Dentos observed on the second day out.
Vaelin glanced over at a clutch of knights, bickering and shoving each other over a game of dice. Nearby another knight was loudly berating his squire for the lack of polish on his breast plate. He had to agree the knights were hardly the most stealthy soldiers and he would have gladly exchanged them all for a single company from the Order, but there were no brothers to be had and he needed cavalry for this to work.
“ It shouldn’t matter,” he replied. “They only have to make one charge.” Though, I couldn’t say how many will be left after that.
“ What about patrols?” Frentis asked. “The Alpirans would be fools not to scout their flanks.”
“ This far out from the city, I’m hoping they’re foolish enough to do just that. If not, we’ll only have to linger for one day in any case. Any patrol that finds us will have to be silenced and we’ll hope they aren’t missed by nightfall.”
It took another two nights before the oasis came into view, shimmering into solidity amidst the baking dunes. Vaelin was surprised by the size of it, expecting little more than a pond and a few palms, but in fact found a small lake surrounded by lush vegetation, a near irresistible jewel of green and blue.
“ No sign of the Alpirans, brother,” Frentis said, reining in with the scout troop at the foot of the dune where he had halted to survey the oasis. “Seems we beat them to it, like you said.”
“ Caravans?” Vaelin asked him.
“ Nothing for miles around.”
“ We saw scant sign of traders on our journey north, my lord,” Baron Banders commented. “War is never good for commerce. Lest your trading in steel o’course.”
Vaelin surveyed the desert, spying a tall, almost mountainous dune two miles to the west. “There,” he said, pointing. “We’ll camp on the westward slope. No fires, and it would be greatly appreciated, Baron, if your men refrained from excessive noise.”
“ I’ll do what I can, my lord. But they’re not peasants, y’know. Can’t just flog them like your lot.”
“ Maybe you should, milord,” Dentos suggested. “Remind ‘em they bleed the same colour as us peasants.”
“ They’ll bleed well enough when the Alpirans come, brother,” Banders snapped back, his already flushed face colouring further.
